It’s very early. Too early for you to be up and leaving the comfort of your bed. You consider closing your eyes again, but you realize that Satoru is here. With you, separated by the walls of your bedroom. After weeks of endless late nights and waking up beside an empty bed, suddenly the sound of his singing doesn’t annoy you anymore, instead it makes you yearn for the normalcy of your married life. 

Then again, “normalcy” means something different when you’re two overworked sorcerers.

And now the feeling of wanting to spend every second possible with him makes you feel very awake. 

Satoru is still taking his sweet time inside the shower once you pattern down to the kitchen, switching on the cupboard lights. You rub at your eyes, and when the darkness finally ebbs away, you spot something starkly standing out against the ritzy furnishing of the room.

It’s a cupcake. Inside an old plastic jar that looks too tall for it.

At first, you wanna laugh. It’s funny, and actually really cute. You think about the way he probably rummaged through the cupboards trying to find the perfect container for his cupcake, one that won’t smush it in any way. Logistically it’s perfect, wide enough to encase the width of the cake, but leaves a lot (maybe too much) space on the top to preserve the hardened frosting and all its sprinkles. He could probably fit another cupcake on top if he wanted to. You don’t even remember having this one at all, it must’ve been an old plastic jar you stored away behind the clutter and forgot about.  

It reminds you of what a little kid would do if they wanted to save a sweet treat for later, grabbing whatever was the most convenient around. 

You’re melting at the right, but then you start to question it. Why did he pack just one singular cupcake? Where’s his lunch? Was he not going to eat anything else? 

Your heart butts in, thinking about why the only reason he packed his “lunch” like this is because he simply doesn’t have the time to properly prepare one. That once he’s out there, wherever the world demands him to be, he won’t even have the mind to take care of himself, let alone spare an hour for lunch. He wouldn’t have someone to take a break with. Everyone is already stretched too thin, and he’s going to be someplace else before you can reach him. 

And the worst part is, the cupcake (singular) isn’t even freshly baked. It’s a leftover you brought home a few days ago. 

It makes you want to cry. 

And maybe you are being a bit dramatic. You’re not sure what’s gotten into you this morning. But you really can’t blame yourself for feeling an unimaginable amount of affection and love for the man you get to call your husband. Not when it’s during moments that really remind you that Satoru is human. That somewhere behind those walls, beneath that immeasurable power is a man who’s living life for the first time, too. A man who has a notebook filled with things he wants to learn later on, who still wears that outfit combo you once said he “looked really handsome in”, and one who plays with the digivice you got him in the middle of the night just as you’re falling into a dreamless sleep. 

Your body moves before you can even think, and you’re already pulling out a pan and turning on the stove to cook him something more edible than a stale, half frozen cupcake. 

By some miracle, you finished packing the food into a lunch box when Satoru comes out of your bedroom. 

You can smell the remnants of fragrant steam from his shower, and the familiar scent of his cologne almost puts a smile on your face. But the second you really take a look at him, you’re back to aching inside again. 

Satoru doesn’t have a single clue on the internal turmoil you’re going through. 

He has a big grin plastered on, very happy to be greeted by the sight of you in his digimon shirt and a pair of sleep shorts that ride up just the perfect amount. He’s already dressed in his uniform, though his jacket is unbuttoned and he hasn’t put his blindfold on so there’s nothing to keep his white hair from springing up the way it usually does. It’s so soft, the way they frame his face and contrasts the bright blue of his eyes. It makes him look more gentle—boyish. Reminiscent of his jujutsu high days when everything seemed much easier. 

He notices you straight away, of course. There is no world where he wouldn’t find you first. 

There’s an evident eagerness in his steps as he approaches the kitchen, mussing his hair up from the front though it somehow falls back perfectly.  Satoru grins widely, nose turned up at the smell of your cooking. But you have a suspicion that it’s you who makes him happier when he can’t keep his eyes off you the whole walk.

“Wifey~ I don’t think I’ll make it back by dinner,” Satoru starts, apologetic. “but promise I’ll text at least 10 times today!” He recovers from his solemn tone and beelines straight towards you, making grabby hands and pouting his lips to ask for a kiss. 

He sounds so positive, humoring you so the thought of being left alone won’t make you feel sad. You really, really want to let him sink right into you and give him all the kisses of the world, but all you can think of is how lonely he must feel having lunch all by himself, somewhere halfway across the world. 

And that damn cupcake in a jar. 

He lets out a quiet “oomf” at the sheer force in which you barrel straight at him.

“Woah, slow down, honey.” He laughs, cushioning your fall before snaking his hands down to your hips and squeezing. “I know I’m prized commodity these days~”

You don’t even play around anymore. Being in his arms makes everything feel too real. And it reminds you of how important these mundane moments are—how fleeting they can be. 

Does he even know how precious he is?

“Eh?”

You can feel the way he tenses immediately after hearing your first sniffle. 

Satoru coos at you softly, right hand gently raking down the back of your head as his right holds you by the waist. He noses at your hair, planting kisses on the crown of your head while asking you every possible version of “what’s wrong?”. 

You don’t relent for a while though, too busy drowning in your own emotions and trying to squeeze him against you—trying to merge your bodies into one. 

You don’t want to face him just yet. You’re just a bit embarrassed, a whole lot sad, very much in love. Actually every single emotion at the same time. 

He rests his palm on the back of your neck, patiently waiting on you to look up at him. Satoru shakes his head affectionately, murmuring against your hair to explain to him why you’re so sad. He doesn’t stop trying, even when you stubbornly shake your head on his chest. But it doesn’t take you long to relent,—because you always crave being spoiled by him—and once you do, he almost quivers at how sad you look. Snot faced and all. 

You manage to push out the words through slow breaths, sniffing away the remnants of your outburst. 

“You’re just so.. cute. My husband. My handsome boy.” Your thumb traces careful lines on his skin, starting from the corners of his eyes to his temple. “So cute and strong and good and takes care of me so well.”

Satoru feels his chest seize, and then release fully, a breath so big that it feels like every burden he’s ever carried has finally gone. 

You're not praising him for his power, or for his position in this world. But for being good. A good husband, a good friend, a good lover. A good person. 

You have the ability to dismantle and build him up again every single time. 

“I guess I am pretty cool, huh?”

It hits you then, how soft he sounds. How small. Like he truly believes the words he’s saying, not just as an offhand rhetoric thrown out in lighthearted conversations. 

This really shouldn’t make you sad. Brought to tears and ruin. But damn his stupid big blue eyes and the undying love in them every time he talks to you. 

A sudden burst of shy clinginess has you latching back right into the crook of his neck, as your hands tighten impossible harder around his shoulders.

“What’s going on, pretty?” He whispers and coos at you still, running his fingers gently through your hair. He stops right at the back, holding your head closer.

“Isawyourcupcakeinajarandgotsad.” You mumble against his neck, and your husband chuckles at your childish actions.

“Can’t hear you from all the way up here,” Satoru definitely can hear you, but he won’t stop until you say it to his face.

He gently uses the hand on your neck to massage the area, wordlessly asking for you to look up at him. When you finally do, his hands stay right where they are. A small reminder that he’ll always be there for you. 

“I saw your cupcake in a jar and got sad.”

The pout on your face can move mountains. Satoru has to physically hold back after his heart practically jumps out of his chest at the speed in which it starts to beat. Naturally, he’ll take this chance to tease you, even when you’re all mushy and sappy against him.

“You cryin’ over my 2 day old cupcake?”

And at that your lips wobble, immediately driven to tears again.

It takes a solid 10 minutes for Satoru to hold you through your tears. And every time you think you’re finished, you manage to burst into sobs again because he is so gentle with you. So soft in the way he holds you by the waist, and even how he caresses the back of your head—like he’s afraid one wrong tug will cause you even more hurt. It doesn’t help that you’re aware of just how silly you’re being right now. How you’re making him late to be the hero of this world. Yet despite all of that, he still listens, still answers your unintelligible mumbling and cries with words that make you feel entirely heard.

He even coos at you with that tone that soothes the deepest part of your heart, the one who loves so much and asks for it the same way. 

Inside though, he’s completely torn between wanting to laugh at how cute you are or comforting you because you’re crying real life tears at his face. Full on sobbing and clawing at his shirt like your life depended on it. 

In the end, both reactions come out simultaneously. Whenever you let out a particularly dramatic cry, you can feel his body shaking from holding back his laughter. When you pout up at him after he finishes consoling his baby, you can see the pure restraint in his expression, the way his tongue pokes the insides of his cheeks to stay still. Of course when little giggles do manage to burst out, you punch his chest weakly. And then he soothes you all over again when he brings your violent hands to his lips. 

It’s silly, so silly in retrospect. He hadn't put much thought into the cupcake that morning, yet here you are, absolutely distraught over his poorly packed dessert. He can just brush it off as a passing thing—just you having a cuteness aggression that’s enough to drive you to tears. 

But Satoru is a weak, weak man for you. 

He is already prepared to give you the world if you look at him in any way, so the sight of you in tears is enough to bring him onto his knees. You don’t even have to ask, and he’d fulfill each and every one of your whims, regardless if they seem big or small. Silly or serious. Simply because you are worthy of being celebrated, chosen and loved in all the possible ways. 

Satoru doesn’t even care that he’s late.

He would put the entire world on hold just for you. 

He sways you against him, and the motion calms you enough for your sobs to die down. You’re left sniffling against his now-damp uniform, squished between his chin on top of your head and his arms around your body. Breathing in, heart to heart. As if you’re trying to make him understand all the love that will never be enough to express with words through the gesture alone. And he can understand, because he knows you in ways that nobody else does.

“I made you lunch. I know you’ll be really busy but I still want you to eat something nutritious.” You say against the column of his neck, grounding yourself as you feel the low hum of his voice through the skin. 

You turn around quietly, and Satoru adjusts his arms so that they rest on your stomach. He watches your movements keenly, chin hooked over your right shoulder. His warm breaths tickle you, but you don’t shrug him off. You just huff in response, and Satoru replies by nuzzling his face further into the side of your neck. 

Still caged in his arms, you open the lunch box to show him the express meal you cooked with the little time you had. 

It’s a simple dish. Salmon fillet, vegetable salad on the side and a hearty serving of rice. You even put his lonely cupcake in the bag, knowing he’d still eat it regardless.

“It’s not a lot, but I just want the best for you.” You tell him quietly. 

“You are the best for me.” 

Satoru immediately spins your body around to face him. He hunches his shoulders down to make himself smaller—closer—holding you by your cheeks and bumping your noses together. 

He doesn’t stop until he sees your smile through your tears, eyes crinkling as the happiness sparks its way back. 

You are so pretty. Even with swollen eyes and furrowed brows—especially like that. There’s so much beauty in the quiet ways you take care of him. How your actions say “I’m here for you”, louder than any words.

“I love you.” Satoru reminds you once more.

He repeats the words, pressing a kiss to each part of your face. 

“I love you,” your cheeks “I love you,” your forehead “I love you,” your nose “I love you,” and your lips.

He stays there for a little longer, pressing so hard that you have to hold onto his biceps when the force of his love bends you backwards. 

“I love you sooo so much.” Satoru singsongs, finally detaching from your lips with a loud and exaggerated “mwah”. 

“I can’t believe I get to call you mine.” He smiles at you, a little smug and undoubtedly sweet. 

“I can’t believe I get to call you mine.” You retort, though your voice comes out slightly gibberish as he’s still squishing your cheeks together. 

Instead of accepting, your husband decides to challenge you in your love. “Uh no, me even more.”

“Me, times like, a million.” You raise a brow, poking his cheek.

And like all your arguments, it continues as a one-upping competition, before you forget what you were squabbling about once he decides to be a sore loser and starts tickling you. 

When he takes mercy and holds you tightly against him instead of violently assaulting you with tickles, you’re breathless and heavy, with a big grin decorating your face. “We should get married again, or something.”

“If this is your way of telling me you wanna recreate our honeymoon night, you can just ask~”

You reward him with a light slap against his butt. And Satoru shamelessly revels in it, because that wasn’t a no to his offer.

Your home is quiet for a few moments, and in between the silence is the occasional sound of your sniffles, and his gentle lips against your forehead following every time. 

“Promise to call me when you eat?” A gentle tap of your nose against his.

“Pinky promise.”

And he does just that. Some time during the day, your phone rings and Satoru greets you with an up close look of his grin. He’s already taken off his blindfold, though you tell him to put it right back on because you know how sleep deprived and overwhelmed he is. Satoru whines and denies at first, but you push with a sealing argument, saying that “he’ll get to see your pretty face just fine with those six eyes of his”. He relents, because he can never say no to you. 

It doesn’t shock you nearly as much as it used to when your husband flips the camera around, showing him sitting right on the edge of a very tall skyscraper. You chastise him, but he just laughs in your face and tells you to eat more sweets to make up for him being away. 

This is how it is. 

Just you and him against the world. Miles away, but under the same sky. Imperfectly perfect together.

Based on this lady’s tiktok where she gets sad seeing her husband set out a granola bar for work, and all the comments underneath. (+muffin pic creds)

🥹 in the end, he’s just a boy with love and dreams too 💔

You’re pumping your fingers in your needy cunt just thinking about it after every damn date with this boy. Whining out in your bed with your hips bucking up, gasps escaping your lips desperately in your empty room. Pumping faster and faster until you’ve got that sticky release all over your hand.

It’s almost as if you have this sort of ritual now, before you see your boyfriend and right after/.

Your rose toy is probably fucking tired of you.

As if you don’t you ache so damn bad around him it’s painful, hard not to shamelessly hump his thigh till you cum. No, the toy? This takes the edge off just a bit, but even the way you moan his name in your sleep is endlessly hilarious to your poor roommates that have to hear you between the walls of your off campus apartment.

“Still a virgin?” Utahime asked with a laugh when you had woken up this morning, getting ready to see Satoru.

“Not by choice,” you grumble, shaking your head and grabbing a coffee pod from the little rack, popping your favorite inside and pressing the on button. The aroma hits immediately, waking your tired brain.

You’d had the filthiest damn dream of him fucking your tits, cock sliding up and down in messy strokes that had you needing a damn shower right now.

You’re just perpetually ovulating.

Satoru is the perfect boyfriend, truly he is. He’s sweet, he’s a gentleman despite his blue eyes and where they glance too long. Mostly, he cares. You’ve fallen so in love with him so quickly over these past few months, but every time you think that things might progress, Satoru stops it. Gently lifting you up off his lap and sighing, kissing his way up your jaw, his snowy lashes tickling your cheek.

‘Sweetheart, let’s pause this,’ he would murmur those words all sweet and sultry against your skin after almost sucking on those nipples that just stay hard around this man, instead hovering a breath away so it ghosts your tits. Those huge hands brushing just underneath them.

It’s torture, really.

‘Oh, okay Toru,’ you’d whisper back, he’d moan and kiss up your neck, breaths tickling your skin. ‘Mnh…’

‘You’re so beautiful, god look at you.’

It was just wrong to talk to you like that!

“You poor baby. At least you have your toy collection,” Shoko teases, sneaking in and brushing your hair back. “Extensive, too.”

You flip her off, peeking at the phone then and seeing Satoru's name pop up.

Study session?

“Dick session?” She asks, you gasp, as if affronted at such a suggestion.

“I would never assume such a thing!”

You hope so.

*****

It’s not.

No, it’s not a dick session at all.

It really is an actual goddamn study session – both of you were sitting there in Satoru’s living room, his place was far fancier than anywhere, but that came from him being the Dean’s very son. It intimidated you a little at first, but now you’ve grown comfortable, as he made you feel so special.

Today though?

Well, you can’t focus on anything but how badly you’d love to kneel and suck your nerdy boyfriend, his thighs spread wide all slutty.

God his legs are long.

You bet his cock is-

“And this equation?” Satoru teasingly asks you, distracting you from your slutty freaking brain.

You're not even sure what stumbles out of your mouth for an answer, without saying how thick you think the circumference of his cock must be.

That is something you’ve done with your past experiences, and you know you’re good at it. You could easily deep throat a man and you wanted to see his cock so damn bad – could he be a challenge, though?

Your eyes drift down his chest, he peeks at you curiously.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks casually, spinning his pen between his fingers and studying you. “Hard question?”

“Um… yeah, a very hard time…”

Stop that! Stop looking at his dick print!

“The question is hard?”

“Uh… the question… yes.” You feel like a damn pervert every time you’re around him, can’t you chill and let things happen when they happen?

He sighs and stands up, stretching his arms up over his head, his abdomen revealed when his dress shirt rides up, showing those little v cuts that make your ovulating brain just a million times worse. It’s like you’re in heat. It's so pathetic right now – maybe you should avoid him till it stops.

“Let’s take a break then.”

“Yeah?”

He chuckles at how eager you are at the thought and comes up to you, leaning down with a hand on each arm of your chair, tilting his head so some of that soft white hair falls over his forehead. You brush a bit of it back and he kisses your palm, lips warm and sweet.

“You’ve been such a good girl, how can I not treat you a bit?” Your heart hammers in your chest, until those next words spill from his lips. “Boba?”

“What? Huh?” You blink as he eases back, pulling up his phone and leaning against the desk. “Boba??”

“Yeah, Boba, I’ll buy you some, I know you love it,” he smiles curiously as you bury your face in your hands. “No Boba? Matcha then?”

“I’m um…” About to cum if he touches you once even. “No, I guess Boba is fine. Thanks Toru.” you manage to say, thighs pressing together, Satoru frowns, kneeling now and gently taking your hands off your face, seeing your blush.

“Are you sick!? You’re all flushed!”

“I’m not-”

“You’re burning,” he touches your cheek in concern, and you almost fucking feel bad – you’re not sick, you’re ovulating. “Baby girl, let’s get you to a doctor right now!"

“No, no I feel fine, I’m not warm because of that,” you shift in your seat and whine out at just that friction. “Promise.”

He frowns and watches you carefully. “You’re hurting, it could be the start of something!”

“Well yeah I hurt,” you sigh as he spreads your thighs and kneels between them, shoving at him. “You’ll make it even worse down there.”

“I’ll make what worse, exactly? Your…” He trails off then, seeing your panties and blushing himself, pink dancing across his high cheekbones and dusting them in that rose. “Y-your… your panties are so… uh… s-soaked and…”

You should freak out at this proximity, at just how much he can finally see of you, but all you can do is whine again, as his eyes shoot back up to yours. “I’m okay, promise.”

“Am I neglecting my pretty girlfriend?” He asks softly, just a little nervous. Satoru has never touched anyone but you, but he’s extensively studied the female anatomy, and how to make you cum.

He just wanted your first time to be perfect.

That’s why he was waiting – the last thing he needed was for you to not enjoy your first time, though he knows you’re a little more experienced than he is – Satoru’s hardly kissed anyone before you. Not because he couldn’t – he just had no interest in that sort of thing until he met you – and even then, he really couldn’t find the damn courage to ask you out forever.

“No I’m being a damn pervert,” you cover your face and he chuckles at that.

“You’re being a what, now?”

You sink into the seat, mumbling. “You heard me.”

He’d been your best friend for so long, thinking there was no chance in the world – always jerking his cock with any article of clothing you’d leave in his room, like a filthy depraved pervert – and you think you were one perverted here?

Does him wanting the timing to be just right making you think that?

Satoru exhales softly, just a hint of what he wants to say slipping from his plump lips.

“What, do you touch your little pussy thinking of me?”

His voice has you lowering your hands, he spreads those thighs and slides up your skirt, making you moan out, head falling back, your hands gripping the arms of the chair even tighter.

“Wha-?” You can’t even finish your damn word.

“Asked you a question, baby.”

“God,” he’s diabolical without knowing – or maybe he does know. You’re trembling as you lean back, letting his thumb brush on your clit and gasping at the touch, already getting slick from a brush on your skin. “What question?”

“Not paying attention, tsk,” he clicks his tongue and his teeth nip your inner thigh, sinking in and making you whine out. “Do you touch her?”

“Y-yes,” he hums a bit, tugging your panties up until your lips are visible, that dark spot growing as slick starts pouring. “Please…”

“Be patient, baby,” he leans back now, smirking at you. “Show me?”

“Are you sure you…”

“Please? I wanna see so bad,” you blush now, you masturbate sure – but not in front of people! “I’ll show you?”

“Show me you um… jerking off?”

“Yeah, I mean… yeah?” You sigh a bit.

“Toru…”

“Mmm?”

“Why don’t I um… suck you?” He is bright red now, he’s almost busting just thinking of your mouth – that won’t do. His first blow job and he busts in one go!? No, Satoru has to jerk it three times before he gets the privilege of fucking your pretty little mouth, of feeling your pink tongue on him.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? But you’re so hard,” you giggle and tease him with your foot nudging his thigh, he glares and catches it, shoving it wide. “Not yet, then. So you just wanna see me touch myself?”

“God yes, dreamed of that since…” He trails off then, he doesn’t want to admit just how long he’s jerked off to you, because it was before you even knew who Satoru Gojo was. “Lemme see.”

“Okay…” you lean back, running your fingertips over your panties, slipping underneath and leaning your head back, eyes fluttering shut, hearing Satoru’s soft little whine. “Toru…”

“Fuck,” he thought he could handle this, but he’s utterly failing, he can’t even see your pretty pussy and he’s already throbbing, leaking so much pre it hurts, sticking to his brand new digimon boxers. “You’re s’pretty, sweetheart.”

You blush as you look at him with dazed eyes, running little circles right around your puffy clit, coated in hot slick as it dribbles out of your panties. He swipes some of it on his fingers, studying it carefully, his tongue going to lap at it, moaning as the sweetness coats his tongue.

“Oh you’re t-tasting me,” it makes you needier, until you have to plunge two fingers inside your messy, quivering hole, that loud squelch echoing in your ears. He’s gripping your thigh with one hand bruising until you cry out.

“Fuck, so s-sorry… baby I hurt… y-you…”

“No, no, like it,” he moans and puts his hand back on your thigh, squeezing again so hard it aches. He's jerking his cock faster, whining out when he sees your slick fingers pull out of your panties. You press your cum soaked fingers to his lips and he eagerly wraps them around, sucking them off. “Toru…”

“So sweet, my pretty girlfriend,” his glasses fog up when he leans down, licking your inner thigh that is trembling, sliding higher until his tongue is on you – but it's not on your skin, it's on the soaked cotton of your panties.

“Fuck…” he moans as he gets those juices that are spilling through the fabric, his and squeezing his own cock as your thighs sit over his shoulders. 

“More, please,” you're tugging at his hair so hard it hurts, bucking up your hips for more. “I need you, please.”

“Such a needy girlfriend,” he murmurs, thumb circling his drooling tip, looking up at you with desperation in his pretty blue eyes. “You want me to lick it more for you?”

Your answer is a little nod, even having him lick you over your panties is more than you've ever had done, and fuck it feels good. Sinful as he trails a long, slow stripe over the fabric, the tip stopping right over your twitchy clit, his moan is muffled against the damp cotton.

“Toru!” He's lost in your scent, in that taste, the little hints of lace decorating your panties rough against his tongue, the sound is fucking filthy.

Satoru tugs those panties up more firmly, strings of gossamer saliva dripping and dissolving, peering up at you with flushed cheeks. “Like that, baby? Is this what you were thinking about instead of studying?”

Your only answer is to nod quickly, a jerky little motion as he sees those puffy lips just swallowing the damp material. He swipes his tongue over and over, the heat and wetness of his mouth making your entire body tremble. You feel it heating up, hearing the messy sounds of his own cock fucking his fist, wishing it were your throat instead.

"Oh god, Toru," you whimper out it so pathetically, your hands tangling in his soft white hair, fluffy and silky underneath your touch, trying to pull him closer, to shove his face where you need it. “Not enough, mnh!”

He chuckles against your puffy cunt, the vibration and the quick lave of his tongue have you on edge. Pulse racing as he had the audacity to tease you, landing a wet smack on your cunt that had you pathetic.

"Ah - ah," he clicks his tongue, catching your wrists in one of his stupidly large hands and pinning them against your waist, smirking at you in a way that's utterly not dirty at all. "No touching yet, sweetheart. I'm taking my time with you."

“Meanie,” he chuckles again, but you love it – feeling that strength as he grips you so tight. “My panties are ruined, Toru.”

“Mmm. Yes they are,” he tugs them again, looking at how wet the material is, just a pathetic little scrap of fabric with your juices pouring.

Instead of showing you mercy and moving them, he just presses them further against you again, tongue shoving that fabric until it's flush with your needy clit, you swear you can feel his tastebuds as that tongue drags through the fabric, pausing everywhere that has you jerking and honing in.

Like this nerdy boy is studying you.

Oh. He is.

He's methodical, almost clinical with his research of your needy, clothed cunt just separated by this pathetic little piece of fabric, his tongue pressing more firmly against your soppy lil hole. She is pulsing around nothing, torturous strokes, pressing his fingers up and down, you're hot and sticky underneath his touch.

“Toru!” Your wrists are still pinned, his cock forgotten even though it's dripping down onto the soft, plush rug below his knees. Satoru finds your clit again and looks up under snowy lashes, you watch the drips of slick connect with that wickedly long tongue.

“Mmm. I bet I could see myself inside you,” he whispers, you suck in a breath at that, as if he is measuring the distance of your entrance to your belly button, easing your wrists to tug up your top, nipping your puffy lips over the fabric. “Scientifically.”

“Then experiment, scientifically.” He chuckles like the little shit he is, finding your clit once more, a hand pressing where he imagines his cock would bulge out.

“You are so needy f'me, s'pretty like this,” his words slur as he wraps his plump lips around your twitchy clit, barely concealed and swollen underneath the cotton material that is dripping wet. He pulls it in his mouth and sucks it hard through your panties, humming against you.

You're aching, cunt filling his hungry mouth as your hands land back on his hair, his movements making you cry out and buck your hips against his mouth for more.

“So sweet right now, god, look at that…”

Satoru is so close to cumming when he grabs his cock at the base again, squeezing so goddamn hard – he could almost bet that if he felt your cunt without the fabric, he'd spurt his white ropes everywhere.

Make a mess of you.

“Mnh. You close, sweetheart?”

Your answer is a jerky little nod, as he keeps torturing you with this fucking barrier, his teeth grazing that tiny clit ever so lightly through the fabric, making you scream out, your head falling back. Your panties are absolutely ruined now, utterly transparent with your slick and his spit coating them, your sweet little cries rushing through his ears.

Satoru? Well, he laps at the mess he's making happily, his tongue coating the entire area in circles that deliberately avoid that spot until you're twitching, tears falling down your cheeks.

"Such a messy girl," he moans out those words, eyes black when they peek up at you, his voice husky as your slick clings to his lips. "Soaking these pretty little panties f’me.”

“Please, Toru… move ‘em please,” he smirks and decides to have mercy on you, tugging them to the side of one of your lips and exhaling, watching the slick drool and spill down. You gasp as the air hits your cunt, already aching and needy, the dampness making it a cool shock.

“Fuck, you're so pretty,” he murmurs, his cock just about to bust without his touch, he glides his tongue from your ass all the way to your clit, looking right up at you. “Is this what you were thinking of, hmm? My tongue inside you?”

“Your cock, too,” he chuckles against you, but just a couple more flicks has you close, as he spreads your cunt wide, studying your every expression.

“Look at that. My slutty little girlfriend.”

Satoru is trying his best to hold it together, but when his tongue glides into your gummy walls and they grip him, he's too far gone, slurping up every bit of the cum that just pours out. You shatter so damn pretty, squirting all over his face, dripping down his chin until it's glossy, his cock starts pulsing right with your hole, imagining her milking him.

“F-fuckk….”

“Toru, mnh! S'good I… please…” You’re overheated, body sensitive, it’s just not enough, even with his tongue lavishing every bit of your pussy.

Not enough.

“Please what, baby? Mnh,” he grips his veiny cock as he cums with his tongue on your clit, more of your mess drenching his throat, his face, his shirt. His white ropes coat his hand, lashes fluttering shut as he savors your jumping clit in his mouth, whining against you.

“Want your cock in my mouth, Toru please…” he exhales, breath making you jolt, looking up at you with a blush.

“I um…” he leans back on his knees and you see the mess, blushing at it. 

“I didn't touch you though…”

“Didn't need to,” he's clearly a little embarrassed, you take his cum soaked hand then – dripping white – and wrap your mouth around one of his thick fingers. “Oh fuck…”

You suck him right off, tasting that salty white substance and moaning as it hits your taste buds. Satoru pulls back and laps it off his own fingers, before kissing you right with it, the mess spilling between your mouths and dripping down.

Satoru Gojo – your nerdy boyfriend with an insane Digimon collection was a fucking freak, greedily drinking his own cum off your mouth.

You’re trembling when the door knocks, and you faintly remember that he has ordered you boba. He’s the epitome of a perfect boyfriend after that, considerate, caring, cleaning the little rivulets of your own release from your inner thighs – you’re stuck back on the opposite side of the bed, cuddling him and watching a movie.

Satoru even has the audacity to snore after, heavy body wrapping as you ache to get filled by him – at least the movie was so damn boring you drift off right next to him.

****

“I’m gonna die a virgin,” you mumble to Shoko and Utahime the next weekend, aside from more heated kisses and grinding on Satoru’s thigh after your well planned out dates – nothing.

You’re aching.

How much use could your rose toy really see!? And now you even have two more toys going along with it, though you doubt any of them are getting close to Satoru and how good he must feel. No ‘clit sucker’ could come close to what that nerdy little mouth could do.

“You look like you’re dying, girl, damn…” Utahime earns your glare. “Is it that bad?”

“He finally got me off and…” You blush now, unable to finish your sentence, remembering his tongue drinking up your juices.

“Does he know what a clit is?”

“Very much so, it was so good.”

They look surprised.

“You all have no clue, he really was,” Shoko laughs at that, leaning back and hitting the vape, handing it over to you. “No, no.”

“You need a smoke, sweets,” you grimace, brushing your hair back, pacing back and forth as the two girls watch you, snuggling with each other. “You’re pacing holes in the carpet.”

“I can’t handle this, I just… god I wanna suck his dick, is it so terrible? He hasn’t even let me touch it. I sound like a horny ass man, I hate it. I wanna respect him, I really do.”

“You wanna respect him with his cock in your throat?” Shoko finishes.

“Yes. I mean!? I will respect him without the cock in my mouth! You two are menaces.”

They’re laughing like the brats they are, blowing smoke in each other’s mouths, you damn near moan in frustration. Satoru’s gotten you off that one time, then since then he has gone right back to worshipping you in the sweet way he always did, as if you’ll what – forget about his tongue?

His stupidly long fingers…

The cum on your tongue that you lapped right off!?

The taste.

“Ugh -” you lean back and sink further into the couch. “I really am gonna die.”

“Can’t die, we’ve got that party tonight,” Utahime teases, kissing Shoko’s lips and giggling just a bit, you pout at the two of them.

In public Satoru would kiss your hand at best.

Where on earth even had that freak come from that spit his cum in your mouth last week!? He’s all gone again – the pocket protector wearing Nerd Gojo in his place, like some twin fucking took over for a minute.

“I can’t go to a party and get drunk, I’ll make a fool of myself around him, one drink and my pussy has a mind of its own…” You finally sit down, plopping back into the seat. “I feel like a pervert.”

“You are! Let’s just call you fucking pervy Sage.”

“Hey!” You glare at Utahime, Shoko is inhaling another puff of smoke, you cough just a bit. 

“Hah – Sanji from One-”

“Don’t even!? I’m not that bad,” you huff at her, frowning now. “I swear I'm not trying to be pervy. God, what is in this weed?”

“Hmm,” Shoko tugs Utahime on her lap. “I wonder if he's scared you'll like … bite his dick.”

“You're so fucking mean,” you cough a little more, eyes watering as you scowl at the two of them.

“Look slutty, like really slutty,” Shoko walks up now, tilting your chin up and crooking her lips up at the corner. “Something that screams – fuck me.”

“He licked my panties and didn’t even…”

“Really slutty,” Utahime agrees, tapping her chin. “Ooh! I know, I have the perfect outfit in mind, that little black dress of yours.”

“But it’s too small for me now! It’s from like high school, and thanks to you two cooking all the time, my hips-”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what? Oh…”

You trail off now, realizing what everyone knew – that Satoru loves your hips, he grabbed on to them every chance he got, even when he was just a little bit shy.

“Okay…”

They kiss again in front of you, laughing a bit, making you lovesick for your man – your nerdy man who you wish would kiss you in that way, tongues all dripping. It’s not even fair.

“All lovey dovey, fuck you both.”

They’re so hot and rude laughing at you – you decide to just disappear, you don’t need your hot ass best friends making out in front of you when you’re already in pain from the constant edging from Satoru. You are rushing to your room and trying on outfit after outfit, before finally deciding on the exact fucking one they brought up.

You would look as sexy as you could and hopefully get your boyfriend to not be able to resist you.

But also you’ll respect his decision, dammit! You can wait as long as he wants to, even if you were absolutely gonna put your tits and ass out there for him. Looking in the mirror and touching up your lipstick, swiping a finger across your lower lip to smudge it just a tad.

“Oh damn you look hot, Sanji,” Utahime says when you come out.

“I am not Sanji.”

“You are.”

“Fuck you both!”

*****

Satoru can’t keep his damn eyes off you.

Fuck you’re pretty tonight.

That damn little black dress clinging to your skin is fucking ruining Satoru’s mind, brain short circuiting as the two of you navigate the insanely packed frat house, one of his hands on the small of your back protectively. People are all bumping into everyone, stumbling around, absolutely no chance he lets someone hurt you by accident.

Moreso, Satoru Gojo can’t get his fucking hands off you, no, he can feel your warmth right through the thin layer of cotton material, fingers splaying across it. He reminds himself in his head over and over just what a horrible thing it would be to fucking take your first time at a frat party, even as he has to adjust his cock, turning from you to face the wall for a moment.

“Everything okay, Toru?” You ask softly, hand on his back, he laughs, a fake and terrible attempt at being normal, turning right back around to you.

“Me!? Yes, yes. Do you need a drink, babydoll?” He asks.

The music kicks on as he speaks, and all you can see are his plump lips forming words, ringing from how damn loud they’re blaring the worst dance music known to man. “What!!”

“A drink!!”

“Huh?”

“A DRINK-”

The music pauses for just a minute, switching to something else but leaving multiple people to stare at Nerdy Gojo shouting.

You blink a bit at his shouting, he swears he’ll kill Suguru and Nanami for having the audacity to fucking laugh at him and his pain. Them smoking weed earlier and trying to give him every tip known to man on how to bury said tip right against that surely cute little cervix.

As if Satoru hadn’t studied extensively.

“Yes, please,” you smile all pretty, letting him guide you through, he just about loses it from the sheer amount of eyes locked onto you, gripping you just a little too tight, feeling the curve of those breedable hips underneath his fingertips.

Imagine having them bent over, his hands fit so perfect-

No, he can make it another night, a dumb frat party was not the time or place for something so precious as your first time. Even if you smell that good, and you’re dancing all over him, giggling, your ass brushing right against where his cock has tented his dark jeans.

Your drink in one hand, the other in his as he pulls you against him, for a nerdy boy, Gojo can absolutely move his body. You feel so goddamn good against him, with your waist in his grip now, his lips pressed against your ear – he can inhale that sweet scent you just naturally fucking have.

That’s when he realizes he’s about to cum if your ass rubs up on his cock one more damn time with those heels making you tall enough, he could bend you over and slide it right in. God he bets you’re so wet too.

Satoru has to pull back, making you blink just a bit in confusion, he downs the rest of his drink, smiling apologetically.

“Bathroom, sweetheart.”

“Oh, um… okay, want me to-”

Satoru runs the fuck off.

Maybe you’re doing too much, shit… you were absolutely grinding all up on Satoru because you were craving him so bad. You needed to give him more time! If the roles were reversed, you know he would, even if he may want to as badly as you do. Going to pour yourself a shot, you throw it back and let your eyes shut, sighing just a bit as it burns your throat.

You need to ease up and let Satoru take his time, even if you have to press your thighs together to resist the needy urge of rubbing your cunt on anything right now.

Maybe you are fucking Sanji.

*****

Satoru’s leaned back on the door, unzipping his pants and seeing his reddened cockhead, and just how fucking swollen it is. He’s jerking his cock desperately, whimpering out as the door gets knocked on, banged on in fact by fucking Sukuna of all people.

“Gotta take a piss man, stop jerking it.”

“I’m not!? I’m pissing right now – w-wait,” Satoru is jerking it of course, but how dare Sukuna call him out on it. Dickhead fratboy that he is, he’s chuckling outside of the door, but none of it is getting rid of Satoru’s throbbing erection.

He’s just way too needy, too sensitive, he can see his reflection in the mirror – those flushed pink cheeks. Sukuna thankfully fucks off, but Satoru can't even cum with just his hand, not when he knows your little fist would feel so much better, when your mouth and pussy would grip him.

No, Satoru is left tortured.

*****

You are alone for some time, concerned if he was somehow drunk or sick when the leader of the frat – the slutty ass, pink haired jock named Sukuna comes up to you, sipping his cup and flickering his red eyes up and down your face.

“Hmm, Gojo left you all alone?”

“And?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him now, he smirks just a bit, leaning close. “He’s busy. Okay?”

“Mmm… yeah,” he peeks over his shoulder now, then looks right back down at you. “So.”

“So, what?”

He grins all big. “Wanna play beer pong?”

“Beer pong?”

“Mhm,” he tugs at a little lock of your hair. “Bet I stomp your ass at it. Look like such a good girl.”

“Hah you think I've never been to a party!?”

“Never seen you before aside from with your nerdy lover boy,” he pours you a drink now and inclines his head.

“I've partied, just… usually me and Toru are busy.”

He snorts at that.

So busy your boyfriend is jerking his cock in the bathroom.

“I see, so busy, huh?”

“Yes but…” you curse now, shaking your head. Satoru has been gone fifteen minutes and won't answer a text, a game of beer pong wouldn't hurt. “Fine then.”

It doesn’t take long until there is an entire gathering of people to watch you absolutely annihilate Ryomen Sukuna in beer pong, to the point he is fucking furious. You're landing the pong ball in every cup, decimating the entire frat at a certain point, giggling as you study them, down to the last shot, against Sukuna again.

“Beginners luck or some shit,” he’s fucking furious – you swear you see his vein ticking underneath his jaw.

Satoru is still not here.

You’re worried but you’re also enjoying the cheers, especially when you land that last one, giggling as the frat brothers who were talking all that shit about the nerdy girlfriend of Satoru moments before are now staring in disbelief. With one final, perfect arc, the ball splashes into the last cup. 

It really is beginner's luck.

But.

Also, fuck Sukuna.

"Damn, girl!" someone yells, and you take a little bow, rubbing it right in Sukuna’s face now, who is slamming down the rest of his beer.

Surely he drank enough to get annihilated – but somehow still standing just normal, big ass man has some insane tolerance because those eyes look completely aware.

"Guess I'm not such a good girl after all, huh?" you tease Sukuna, who's standing there looking down at you, setting the cup down and crushing it.

“Hmmm,” his red eyes dilate just a bit as he steps closer to you, suddenly making you feel just a bit nervous.

Satoru hates Sukuna.

It’s well known, since high school the two of them have been overcompetitive and absolutely insane against each other. He’d be fucking furious if he saw you anywhere near him at all. You peek and see him across the crowd then, getting a text from Shoko blinging on your phone.

He’s really mad.

He is.

You get another text now from Utahime, biting down on your lower lip.

Make him jealous and maybe you’ll get dicked down, Sanji.

“I’m not Sanji,” Sukuna raises a brow, lips twitching. “I’m not.”

“Sanji? Who the fuck is that?”

“One piece?”

“Nerd – hey, wait,” you’re turning and he grabs your wrist for just a moment. “Shit, I mean… you’re right, you’re not a good girl, huh?”

“I sure beat your ass,” you say, pausing when he reaches out, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a stray piece of hair back from your face, rough knuckles brushing against your cheek for a second too long.

"You did, you're full of surprises, brat.”

“Brat? Whatever…”

You can feel Satoru’s eyes on you – you’d pull back, but part of you wonders if making him jealous would bring that freak out that spit cum in your mouth – maybe you are a brat. You sip your drink, remaining normal.

“I’m dating Satoru, you’re too close.”

“Would nerdy ass Satoru know what to do, how to handle your ass?” He taunts, your eyes narrow, his laugh echoing despite the music as your boyfriend starts shoving his way through. “Show you that digimon collection?”

“I’m very pleased, thank you.”

“You look like you need to get your attitude fucked right out of you,” your fingers itch to slap him now. “If he fucks up, you know where to find me.”

“No thank you, I- Toru!”

Satoru is between you and Sukuna, shoving him off and glaring right at him – perhaps the two tallest men at the party right face to face, Sukuna’s smirk making Satoru want to punch him.

“Why are you so close to my future wife?”

“Wife?” You blush and he glares at you.

“Yes, and baby momma – but you’re being a brat,” he whispers, Sukuna snorts at that.

“She is a brat.”

“You can’t call her that,” he shoves the big ass man and takes your hand now. “She has better shit to do than talk to you.”

“Aw, but we were having fun,” Satoru is dragging you away, you blink just a bit, almost scowling at Sukuna who blows you a kiss.

What a dick.

BUT.

Satoru is fuming, and he’s hot.

You’re so toxic!

“What’s wrong, Toru? I was just playing some beer pong,” you say all innocently, as he drags you past everyone, you’re struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Um… what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong!? Hah,” he’s laughing, psychotic and feral like you turned on a switch in his brain, when he finally starts getting some privacy. “Everything.”

“I don’t get it…”

“He was hitting on you,” Satoru yanks you away in the center of the party, you barely bite back your giggle at how excited you are to see him this way, looking ever so serious when he glares down at you.

Maybe you are evil, loving how mad he is, how jealous he is when he presses you against the hallway wall on the other side of the party, you can feel the music humming through the walls, but not as fast as your heart is racing looking up at your blue eyed boyfriend. Blue eyed angry boyfriend.

This isn't sweet Satoru at all, no – he's completely fucking unhinged, his chest rising and falling with his quickened breaths, cupping your face and jerking your chin to look up at him.

“You think he was?” You ask softly, making him raise a brow. “I thought he was just… being nice?”

You make him laugh without humor now, thumb brushing across your lip. “Are you being bratty, sweetheart? Teasing me, making me jealous?”

“What? No,” you straight up fucking lie to his face, batting your lashes all innocent and cute, but you can tell my that little smirk he doesn’t buy any of it for shit right now.

“No?”

“No, I was just talking, Toru. Isn't that fine?” You trail your hands up his chest, wrapping your fingers around to hook behind his neck, tugging him down to face you. “It’s fine for me to make friends, isn’t it?”

“Not when he's looking at these pretty tits,” he cups one, making you suck in a breath – your needy boyfriend is never this bold. “They're not his to look at.”

“Oh?” You lean forward now, tip toeing as he leans low, thumb brushing over a nipple, making it perk up for his touch. “Are they yours? Yours to look at?”

He’s losing it, his pulse hammering behind his ears, in his wrists, everywhere was hammering, his mouth practically salivating as he cups that tit right where anyone can see, big hand squishing it. You gasp out at the sensation, your lashes fluttering closed, little whines mingling against his lips.

“Yes, mine, every inch of you is mine,” Satoru shakes his head now with a soft laugh. “He thought he could dance with you. Kiss your lips? Lips that are mine.”

“All yours,” you open your eyes and giggle again, earning his scowl. “Sorry you're just so cute like this.”

Satoru blinks.

“Oh, I’m cute?”

You go to press a kiss when he snatches you up in one swoop, you gasp and wrap your arms around his neck now. Thighs trembling as he carries you to some room he finds, stumbling you in and shoving you right against the door.

“You think I'm cute,” he presses his cock against your slick heat, slutty little panties practically ruined for him, grinding his cock until you're gasping out. “Well I think that you're a brat.”

You gasp. “Me?”

Two people calling you that.

Well… maybe you are.

“You are bratty, with those pretty fucking lips,” he's kissing you filthy, tongues dancing, saliva dripping between you both, easing you down so that you slide against his body achingly slow. “Maybe I should shut your bratty mouth up.”

Oh fuck.

“Yes please?” He glares at your big fucking grin. 

“On your knees then, sweetheart,” you so eagerly obey, he laughs softly, his heart hammering in his chest, a mix of being utterly furious, nervous about his first time, and dumbstruck by the sight of your heart eyes. “Look at you, bein’ such a good girl – but are you really that desperate to suck me?”

“Please yes,” you have no shame – all you want is Satoru’s cock deep and buried in the back of your throat. “If you want though! C-consent.”

“As if I haven’t wanted this for years,” he shakes his head and tilts your chin up, sighing. “I wanted to do it all perfect, to lick and kiss every inch, worship your body until you were writhing, so fucking needy for it.”

Satoru unclicks his belt, the metallic click hitting your ears. “Mnh… years?”

"Years," he repeats softly, unbuttoning his jeans entirely too slow for you, you go to move your hands and he halts them with a little smack, you bite down on your lip, aching. “Hands on your thighs, you’ll listen to me for once, since you’ve been driving me so fucking crazy.”

“Me, making you crazy, really,” you do as he says though – eagerly – palms on your thighs, he laughs a bit, the sound of his zipper lowering echoing in the room even with the reverberating walls.

“You know every time you drag that messy cunt on me it ruins me, right?” He draws out that word, sighing now. "Every time you wore those little skirts and bent over, every time you'd bite your lip while concentrating…”

Satoru drags a thumb down your lip now, achingly slow against the plumpness that moves underneath it, your teeth nip on his thumb teasingly, and then you let him push your mouth open.

“Open real wide, sweetheart,” you do just that, and he can’t help but whimper as he presses down on your tongue, as if he’s studying the recesses of your open, eager mouth. “Wider, can’t you? For me?”

You listen eagerly, opening wide and fucking obscene, your tongue out for any bit of him he wants to give you, core just aching.

“Fuck, I've imagined this exact moment."

Satoru won’t tell you just how long he has, either, he swallows – just a bit nervous now.

“Suck,” you suck his digits, slurping them and moaning around them, imagining his cock instead, loving how dominant he’s being. “Stop.”

You obey, making him raise a brow.

“You like me tellin’ you what to do? Is that why you got me so fucking mad, so jealous, to have you listen?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, as he shoves his jeans down, and the hard, thick length of his bugle strains against the thin fabric of his boxers. “Pokemon? You traitor!”

“I can’t wait to shut your mouth up tonight,” you giggle at that, Satoru sighs and frowns at them, brushing your hair back a bit. “They were a gift, okay?”

“I’ll buy you digimon ones.”

“God, you’re so perfect,” you’re still giggling, when he gently smacks your face – the lightest little touch that has you almost moaning. “Open up again, yeah? Be a good girl, baby.”

“Mmm, yes,” you nod your head, doing just as he says – the side of freaky Satoru you only saw hints of last week when he’d lavished your panties with his long tongue.

“You got me jealous on purpose, yeah? Wore that slutty outfit to fucking ruin me, wanted cock in your throat that bad? Got me fucking leaking so much… fuck…”

Your answer is to keep that mouth open, leaning forward as you lap your tongue along the damp spot where his pre cum has already soaked through, right over a traitorous yellow pikachu. You’ll make more fun of that later, right now he’s jerking his hips, hissing at the drag of your cute lil tongue on him.

“Fuck…” You’re teasing him just like he did you – licking and sucking his tip over the damp cotton of his boxers. “Act so sweet and you’re evil, shouldn’t feel that good through that… mmm…”

Satoru’s letting you suck around his fat cockhead, slurping every bit of his white cum from it, tongue lolling right along that slit over and over.

“Torturing me back?”

“Yep,” you lick your lips, making him sigh, shaking his head now.

“Go on then, take what’s all yours…" his voice is low, hoarse damn near as he for the very first time pulls his cock out, letting it spring free, slapping against his lower abdomen with a loud, wet smack. “Can you fit all of it?”

You knew he’d be big.

You didn’t know he’d be that big, with his jeans undone all slutty, his pokemon boxers shoved down – his cock is perfect, just the right amount of thick and entirely too fucking long, with a prominent pale blue vein running along the underside. You’re literally drooling as he strokes it right in front of you, the head flushed a deep, pretty pink as it leaks white.

You’re soaked, fucking ruined.

“I can.”

You cannot.

Maybe?

You will try!

“Go on then, sweetheart, lemme see how good you can take all of me,” he chuckles as you lean forward without hesitation, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the tip. “Teasin’ me more?”

You lap your tongue up, keeping your hands right where he asked you too, sliding underneath so you hit that frenum. His sharp inhale is met with his huge hand tugging in your hair so hard it hurts, pulling at the hairs on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck… greedy lil mouth,” he’s damn near slurring his words when you swirl your little tongue around the head, lapping up the salty taste of his cock underneath, brushing along that vein. He whimpers out when you wrap your lips around it and suck. “Oh my… f-fuck…”

Satoru loses it the first time you really suck his cock, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, pushing you down further as his other hand rests on the doorway, beginning to move so that he’s choking you. You’re whining out, aching to touch your cunt so bad you slide your fingers down.

“So desperate,” he tuts his tongue, fucking your throat now, his cock slamming the back of it as tears spill. “B-baby, is this s’okay?”

You pull back as he does, with a wet, filthy pop, grinning. “I want it, all the way deep in my throat, Toru, I can take it.”

“You can take all of it in that tiny lil’ throat? When she’s this tight?” He whispers, your nod makes him glare now. “Have you done this?”

You blink a bit. “Yes?”

“Then I’ll fuck your throat so hard you’ll forget anything but me,” he takes you over now, slamming deep inside, you’re whimpering as one of his feet spread your thighs, and you’re soaking his black boot. “That’s it, rutting on my boot and taking cock like a little slut, hmm?”

“Mnhgh…” you’re done for, this is exactly what you needed, him railing your throat until you can’t think, until you’re gagging and tears are spilling.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, you do just that as he presses deep, sniffling as you try to take all of him, he hisses as he feels his tip stretching that tight throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. “You know I fucking love you? And respect you?”

You giggle around him and he glares.

“You have to know if I’m gonna say all this,” you pull back again, fingers all coated in your slick, gliding it along his sticky tip.

“I know you love me, Toru. I love you…” He sighs, touching your cheek. “I love you talking to me this way, you could be meaner.”

“Oh? Fuck my frustration on your throat?”

“Please?”

“You’re ruining me,” he mumbles, slamming right back inside, now that he knows you’re okay, he can lose control, see how much you can take, as you grind on that shoe, nails now pressing in the muscles of his thighs, jeans slipping down. “Want our first time to really be right against this door? Shove your slutty skirt up and ruin your cunt for fuckin’ anyone?”

God, Satoru’s sexy like this, fogged glasses and all.

Your answer is to take him all the way, your nose brushing against the white hair, the tufts of it tickling your nose, he’s stuttering now, unable to stop himself from fucking faster, harder, the wet sounds mixing with his whines. He doesn’t hold them back, either, every time he does he feels a fresh gush of wetness even over that leather, he can see it shimmering as he pulls back and slaps his cock on your mouth.

“Slutty girl, this all f’me, huh? Not that fucking loser downstairs?”

“All you.”

“Hold that tongue out,” you do just that, and Satoru slaps his tip on your tongue over and over, as you keep grinding on him. “Can’t believe you’re this much of a pretty little whore, god I thought you were a good girl?”

“Toru… please…”

“Please what?” You just keep rubbing. “Desperate, fuck… stand up.”

You can hardly do that when he helps you by tugging you up, spitting directly in your mouth, you swallow it greedily, earning his pathetic moan as he turns you, shoving you against that door. “Mnh!”

“Stop me before I fill all your fucking holes with cum,” he’s kissing down your neck, his glasses cool against your neck, whines escaping his lips as he shoves that slutty lil dress up the gentle curve of your hip. “All of them, I’ll have your cunt drippin’, your throat full, fuck that ass while I’m at it.”

“Mngh, please, please,” it’s all you can do but to arch.

“That needy?” He’s tugging your panties to the side, dragging his tip up and down over and over, moans escaping his lips when he bends down, turning your face to him. “First time in a frat house against a door? You’re so wet do I even need to finger you right now?”

“Already did,” you answered, he laughs, shaking his head and kissing you, rubbing even more, teasing your slit with the fat head of his cock until you’re weak, your thighs shaking. “Please, please….”

“Please what, fuck your cunt for the first time? That’s what you’ve been wanting, me to lose it, huh?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, teasing even more, mouth messy and mean as he bumps your clit, until you squirt right down his length, dripping all down the carpet.

Sukuna’s carpet – it’s his room you faintly notice, as you see the little pictures on the walls.

You wonder if Satoru meant that.

“Squirting already, haven’t even fucked you yet,” he pulls back and bends down, slamming his cock so deep you scream out, head falling back as he tugs your hair, making your ass arch out as he fills you. “Oh my g-god… baby…”

“Toru,” he lets you adjust to his thickness, the very first time your cunt has ever been filled – and this wasn’t how he wanted to do it.

He wanted to stretch you out – one finger, two, then three – but you’re so soaked you suck him right in. Such a tight, perfect fit he can hardly take it, bending down to press sweet kisses on your bare shoulders, easing back and shoving in again, taking your hand and placing it on your tummy, pressing so you feel it all.

“Feel me here?” He asks softly, desperately – worried for a moment with how tight you are that he’s hurt you, but your answer is to look back at him with those slutty, parted lips and dilated eyes, nodding. “Who’s inside you?”

“You, Toru.” you answer, cunt spasming as she’s already close, his body overtaking you, wrapping and tugging, shoving even deeper.

“Who’s first?”

“You.”

“Who’s gonna make this cunt stretch out?”

“Y-you and… ah!”

“Mine, mine… fuck you’re all mine,” Satoru gave you that minute to adjust, a last mercy before your nerdy boyfriend fucking loses his mind. “Mine, this pretty body, this perfect pussy… you… mine…”

“Yours,” you whisper it over and over as Satoru fucks your messy cunt, even though it’s hard to take, you’re so full it feels perfect, letting his hand wrap your throat, fingers pressing on either side of your windpipe. “Ah!”

“Hah – such a perfect fit, made f’me,” he’s fucking you so deep you feel him everywhere, cock gliding in and out of your sticky, gummy walls, fucking you so goddamn messy it's dripping down between your thighs. “B-babyyy…”

You arch for more when he pulls out of your cunt with a filthy squelch and you whine from the loss. “Back in, please…”

He lifts and carries you to the bed, thighs shoved wide, feral now as he shoves back inside and sees himself moving inside you. Every slick glide smoothing your puffy cervix, until she is bruised and aching, that dress shoved higher, panties tugged firmly to the side. He uses both to move in you, laughing as you gasp out, as your thighs tremble.

“Aw, is it too much, sweetheart? Too deep?”

Feral Satoru is here, mixed with sweet Toru, but his cock is anything but sweet – the way it stretches you out, fucking ruins you, pummels your cunt so deep you’re about to cum all over his length, already sensitive.

“Mhm!”

“Full of me?”

“Nghhhh…”

You don't know how the fuck else to answer, it all is entirely too much, the way he can see his cock print, his insane laugh, those blue eyes glittering with the frames fallen off. So blue it hurts to look at, eyes almost threatening to close.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me, that's it,” Satoru keeps pumping into your cunt, leaning up to shove your thighs against your tits, smushing them as he fucks you dumb.

He knows it too.

“Can't think?”

“mmm, nnnhhh,” your answer is pathetic and just a babble really, as your nerdy, once virgin boyfriend pummels your messy, needy cunt until she's stuffed so full it hurts. Your nails pressing into biceps, digging in as he stretches your puffy lips on it.

“Can’t even fucking talk – already?” Your eyes roll back in your skull as his cock ruins your pussy, so deep you do feel him all over.

“Gonna pump you so full, hah will you finish college without me breeding your cunt?” Satoru Gojo is batshit insane, as he leans over you, bending you so that you're folded in half under his heavy weight. “What would you do then, hmm? If I breed your slutty cunt? Make you mine.”

“Want it, mmm,” you’re utterly fucking shameless about it, feeling his bruising grip, his cock getting creamy at the base as his heavy balls slap.

“Jerked it in the bathroom, had me so hard,” you bite down on your lip, gasps escaping your throat, eyes locked. “You love that, huh? Driving me insane, slutty dress, pretty body… god…”

He presses your thighs down enough to tug your tits out, gripping them and exhaling, thumbs brushing your nipples until they’re peaks.

"Look at you," he pants, "taking my cock so well, pretty girl. You’re just such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white, your answer is to grip his hips with your thighs, letting him cup your face, pumping you so full that you can feel it all over. Warm and hot when he whines out so pathetically in your ringing ears, slutty little moans falling from your lips.

“Takin’ all of it, god…” He kisses you even as you shatter, your cunt spasming all around his veiny length, milking him for every drop. “So fucking greedy. So needy.”

He leans down and captures your lips, spurts of cum still pouring, you can feel him twitching, nails pressing into the strong muscles of his back. “Toru… l-love… toru y-you…”

“Cock drunk, sweetheart?” He teases, like the menace he really is – but he also lovingly caresses your cheek. “You took me like you were made for me.”

“I did?” You’re so damn drunk off him you’re slurring your words, pussy achingly empty, feeling his cum slipping out.

“You did a very good job. Such a good girl.”

“Yay!”

Satoru snorts at you, shaking his head and peppering kisses, leaned up on an arm, his shirt half open, revealing the hard planes of his chest. “You’re s’cute… I wanted to take it easy your first time.”

“I loved it,” you admit, yawning now, peeking around the room. “Mmm, can we go home though?”

“Of course we will,” he kisses down your body though, breath ghosting your thighs, spreading them to watch the filthy mess of his cum pour out, groaning. “You’re wasting it all, baby.”

“Hmm? Ah!” Satoru scoops some of that mess up against his fingertips, shoving it right back inside your quivering hole. You’re gripping him tight, thighs clamping down on his hand, as he smirks. “Toru you’re… crazy…”

“Mmm, you really have no idea what I have wanted to do,” he clicks his tongue, pushing that cum deep again, watching your every expression. “Gonna keep you so full of cum it’ll drip everywhere.”

Satoru does not just fuck you once, no – he makes sure to bend you over in the backseat of his car, fucking cum back inside. Once you're at his house he is pumping ropes of cum on your tits, laughing at how messy you get coated in white, before spreading it all over your body.

Satoru fingers and fucks all that cum inside until you're a trembling mess in his arms, passing out and snoring.

“So funny you started all this but then couldn't keep up, hmm?” He teases softly, cleaning you up, cock sore from how you gripped him, how much he came. But even the sight of milky drops escaping your hole had him damn near twitching back to life, groaning against your skin.

*****

“Good morning,” your nerdy boyfriend is littered in pretty kiss marks, indentions of your teeth all down his neck, a loopy smile on his face as he stands there shirtless, glasses firmly back on.

“Oh! Good morning…” you thought you'd be the one to ruin Satoru Gojo, ride his cock till he whimpered and cried from overstimulation.

You had no clue he'd fuck you so good you couldn't sit up right without his help, cupping your face and leaning down to kiss your lips, tilting your chin up and smirking. You're a mess.

A pretty mess.

Hair fucked up, covered in fingerprints and hickies, taking the coffee he brings and sipping it, sighing as it hits your tongue. “Mmm… good morning.”

“Don't you look pretty in my bed?” He muses, smirking on his features. “I wonder what Sukuna thought of his bed covered in your squirt.”

A blush heats up your cheeks. “I didn't squirt that much!?!?!”

“You really did,” you shove him playfully, giggling then. “My cum too though.”

“You did it on purpose, his room!”

“Me? Never.”

Satoru absolutely did.

That's what Sukuna gets for hitting on his girlfriend, dried up cum all on his blankets – as if he could handle you ❤️

heheh i hope ya'll liked horny reader for a change!!!

You kept your face blank, eyes lowered like the obedient daughter they expected, while inside your mind screamed.

Later that night, when the household finally fell into drunken slumber and the torches burned low, you moved.

You had planned this in secret for weeks. A plain dark wool cloak stolen from the stables. A small bundle of hard bread, dried cheese, and a waterskin. Soft leather shoes you hoped would last. But the most valuable thing you owned was the wedding gown itself. You had decided to wear the half-finished white dress during your escape — the expensive satin and delicate lace might fetch enough coins in a distant village to buy you passage far away from here. It was risky, but you had nothing else of real value.

You slipped out through the narrow servant’s entrance at the back of the kitchens, the heavy door groaning softly behind you like a warning. The moment your feet touched the cold, dew-soaked grass, terror and fragile hope surged through you in equal measure.

You ran.

The forest swallowed you whole.

Ancient trees loomed like silent judges, their branches clawing at your white gown as if trying to drag you back. The delicate satin — still only half-finished, with pins and loose threads — snagged mercilessly on thorns. You heard fabric tearing again and again: sharp rips that sounded far too loud in the darkness. The long lace veil caught on a low limb and nearly yanked you off your feet; you tore it free with shaking hands, leaving half of it fluttering behind you like a surrendered flag. Mud and wet leaves caked your bare feet. Sharp stones and roots sliced into your soles until every step left bloody prints in the dirt. The cold night air burned your lungs. Sweat soaked your back and chest despite the chill, making the torn gown cling obscenely to your skin. Your legs screamed with exhaustion after only an hour, but fear kept you moving. Behind you, distant shouts echoed through the trees — your father’s guards, torches flickering like angry fireflies. Dogs barked. They were coming.

You pushed harder.

Branches whipped your face, leaving stinging cuts across your cheeks. Your hair fell loose from its elegant pins, wild and tangled. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with blood and dirt. Every shadow looked like a man ready to grab you. Every snap of a twig made your heart seize. You ran until your vision blurred and your chest felt like it would burst. You ran until the shouts grew fainter and the trees finally began to thin.

Hours had passed. The moon hung high and merciless overhead, bathing the world in cold silver light. Your legs trembled violently as you stumbled out of the treeline onto a wide, muddy road. In the distance, warm golden lantern light glowed between clusters of simple wooden buildings. A village.

You nearly collapsed with relief.

The main street was deserted, shutters closed tight against the night. Only one building still showed signs of life. Warm light spilled from its open front door onto the dirt road, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood and raw meat. A weathered wooden sign creaked overhead in the cold breeze:

Fushiguro Meat Co.

You limped toward it, every cut and bruise screaming.

A massive man stood under the wooden awning, illuminated by the lantern light. He was enormous — broad as a barn door, easily over six feet tall, with shoulders and arms so thick with muscle they looked carved from stone. He wore a blood-streaked leather apron tied low on his narrow hips. Beneath it, a simple white tank clung to his sweat-slicked chest, the thin fabric molded to heavy slabs of muscle and dark, scattered scars. His black hair was damp and messy, strands falling across his forehead. A deep, jagged scar twisted the corner of his mouth, giving his face a permanent, dangerous smirk even when he wasn’t smiling.

Thick veins stood out on his forearms as he slowly wiped a long, wicked boning knife clean on the edge of his apron. The blade gleamed.

He looked like violence given human shape — raw, brutal, and utterly terrifying.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him except that he was the only soul still awake, and you were completely out of options.

Your legs gave out the final few steps. You dropped hard to your knees in the cold dirt right in front of him, the torn white satin of your ruined wedding gown pooling around you like spilled milk mixed with blood and mud. Your chest heaved. Fresh tears cut clean tracks down your filthy cheeks.

“Please—” Your voice came out cracked and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Hide me. Just for one night. My family… they sold me to Lord Kato to settle their debts. He’s going to break me. Hurt me in ways I can’t even speak of. I’ll do anything you ask — scrub floors until my hands bleed, haul carcasses, sleep in the cold room with the meat, be your servant, your cleaner… anything. Just please… don’t let them take me back.”

You bowed your head, trembling, and clutched desperately at the bloody hem of his apron with both hands, staining your fingers red.

The man stopped moving. He looked down at you slowly, sharp green eyes narrowing as they took in every detail: your torn and filthy wedding dress, the cuts on your face and feet, the desperate tears, the way you knelt before him like a supplicant before a god of slaughter.

He flicked the long knife shut with a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet street.

“Not my problem, princess,” he rumbled. His voice was deep, low, and rough — like gravel being dragged across stone. There was no pity in it. “I don’t hide runaways. Go beg somewhere else before you bring trouble to my shop.”

You stayed on your knees, fingers still twisted tight in the bloody hem of his apron. Tears kept falling, mixing with the dirt on your cheeks. “Please… I have nowhere else. They’ll find me by morning. Lord Kato will—”

Footsteps. Soft, quick, coming from the narrow alley beside the butcher shop.

Three women emerged into the lantern light, their shawls pulled tight against the night chill, each carrying a small lantern. They stopped short at the sight of you kneeling in your ruined white gown in front of the massive butcher.

“Gods above,” the tallest one gasped. “Is that a wedding dress? Child, what in the world happened to you?”

The women hurried closer, lanterns swinging. Warm golden light spilled over your torn satin, the mud-caked hem, the blood from his apron smeared across your bodice and hands. One of the younger women pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s bleeding… and look at her feet!”

You looked down at yourself — the once-beautiful dress now filthy and shredded — then up at the stranger towering over you. His green eyes were narrowed in clear irritation, jaw clenched like he was seconds away from shoving you into the street and bolting the door.

A wild, desperate plan came to your mind.

You pushed yourself up on shaky legs, ignoring the sharp pain in your cut feet. Before he could step away, you grabbed his large, calloused hand with both of yours, clinging desperately. His palm was warm, rough, and still faintly sticky with dried blood.

Turning to the three women with the most exhausted yet radiant smile you could force, you announced clearly:

“This is my husband.”

The words rang in the quiet night air.

The women froze.

You kept going, voice trembling but determined. “We were married in secret this evening. My family didn’t approve — they tried to sell me off to a cruel lord to settle their debts. So I ran away through the forest to reach him. The dress… it got ruined on the way, but I’m here now. I’m exactly where I belong.”

Silence stretched for a heartbeat.

Then the women erupted.

“The butcher got married?!” the tallest one exclaimed, eyes wide. “Toji Fushiguro actually took a wife? I never thought I’d live to see the day!”

One of the younger women clapped her hands together, beaming. “Look at her, even all torn up she’s lovely! Brave thing, running through the woods in the middle of the night just to get to her husband.”

The third woman laughed warmly. “We’ll bring fresh bread and some stew first thing in the morning for you newlyweds. Can’t have Toji’s new wife going hungry on her first day here!”

Toji.

So that was his name. Toji Fushiguro.

You felt the man — Toji — stiffen beside you. His massive hand twitched hard in your grip, muscles flexing like he was fighting the urge to rip free and deny everything. His sharp green eyes burned into the side of your face, dark with fury and silent threat. But the women were watching excitedly. The whole village would know the story by sunrise if he contradicted you now.

You squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into his skin in a silent, desperate plea. Please. Just play along.

Toji’s scarred jaw flexed. A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in his chest. For one terrifying second you thought he might expose you.

Then, in the flattest, most reluctant voice you had ever heard, he grunted:

“…Yeah. She’s mine now. Wife.”

The women squealed with delight. They offered more congratulations, promised gifts for the “newlyweds,” and finally bustled away down the dark street, lanterns bobbing and their voices already carrying the juicy news.

The moment their footsteps faded, Toji’s grip turned bruising. He yanked you forward so hard you stumbled against his broad, solid chest, then dragged you roughly through the open door of the butcher shop. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud that rattled the walls.

Inside, the air was thick and heavy — cold iron, raw meat, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of fresh blood. A single lantern burned low on the wooden counter, casting long, flickering shadows over heavy chopping blocks, hanging meat hooks, and rows of sharp knives.

Toji spun you around and shoved your back against the closed door. One thick, powerful forearm braced beside your head, completely caging you in. His massive body loomed over yours, heat rolling off him in waves. The scent of blood, sweat, and raw masculinity filled your lungs.

His green eyes were dark with fury… and something much darker, much hungrier.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, voice low and lethal. “You just told half the goddamn village you’re my wife. You got any idea what you’ve done, little runaway?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel the hard press of his chest against yours, the sheer size of him making you feel tiny and trapped.

“It was the only way,” you whispered, breathing fast. “They would’ve dragged me back to Lord Kato by morning if they knew the truth. Now they think I belong to you. No one will question it. Please… just let me stay the night. I’ll disappear at dawn, I swear it.”

Toji stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. His scarred mouth twisted into a slow, dangerous smirk. His free hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his intense green eyes.

“Disappear?” he growled, thumb pressing hard into your jaw. “Too late for that, princess. You just tied yourself to me in front of witnesses.”

He leaned in closer, so close his breath ghosted hot across your lips. His voice dropped even lower, rough and full of promise.

“You owe me now. Big time.”

His gaze dragged slowly down your body — over the torn white lace barely clinging to your curves, the bloodstains, the way your chest heaved with fear and adrenaline. He just held you there, pinned against the door, letting the heavy tension coil tighter and tighter between you.

“Upstairs,” he finally ordered, voice like gravel. “Now. We’re gonna have a long talk about what you just got yourself into.”

Toji didn’t give you time to argue.

His massive hand clamped around your upper arm like a steel band and he hauled you away from the door. You stumbled after him on aching, bleeding feet as he dragged you through the back of the shop. The scent of raw meat grew thicker near the cold room, but he turned toward a narrow wooden staircase tucked behind a heavy curtain.

“Move,” he growled when you hesitated at the bottom step.

You climbed. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up your legs, but you bit your lip and kept going. Toji followed close behind, his heavy boots loud on the old wood, one hand still gripping your arm so you couldn’t possibly run.

The stairs opened directly into a small, sparse apartment above the butcher shop. It was surprisingly clean for a man who spent his days covered in blood. A single main room served as both living space and kitchen — a sturdy wooden table with two chairs, a stone hearth with dying embers, a few shelves holding jars of preserved meat and dried herbs. A narrow hallway led to what you assumed were the bedroom and washroom. Moonlight spilled through two small windows, painting everything in cool silver.

Toji kicked the door at the top of the stairs shut behind him and finally released your arm. You immediately backed up a few steps, the torn hem of your wedding dress whispering across the floorboards.

He folded his thick arms across his broad chest, blood-stained apron still tied around his waist, and stared at you like you were a problem he was deciding how to carve up.

“Start talking,” he said flatly. “And don’t leave anything out. Who the fuck are you, why is a lord hunting you, and why the hell did you decide to drag me into your mess?”

You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. You introduced yourself by name, then continued quietly, “My family is in debt. Deep debt. They sold me to Lord Kato yesterday to settle it. He’s a cruel man. Three wives before me, and none of them lasted long. He told my father in front of me what he plans to do on our wedding night.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I ran in the only thing of value I had — this dress. I thought maybe I could sell it in a village for enough coin to disappear.”

Toji’s green eyes flicked over the ruined white lace clinging to your body — torn, muddy, bloodstained. He let out a low, humorless snort.

“And instead of keeping your mouth shut and hiding somewhere quiet, you decided the best plan was to announce to the biggest gossips in the village that you’re married to the local butcher.” He took one heavy step closer. “You realize what you’ve done?”

You nodded quickly. “They won’t hand me over now. Not if they think I belong to you. The whole village will protect the butcher’s wife… right?”

Toji laughed — a short, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Protect?” He shook his head. “You just painted a target on my back too, princess. Lord Kato isn’t the type to let his property run off. When he comes looking — and he will come looking — he’s going to hear all about how the village butcher stole his bride.”

He dragged a large hand down his face, clearly pissed off, but there was something else in his expression now. A glint of dark amusement. Maybe even reluctant interest.

“You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met… or the most cunning.”

You stood there trembling in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself. The torn bodice of the dress had slipped dangerously low on your shoulders, but you didn’t dare fix it.

“I’ll leave at first light,” you promised again, softer this time. “I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just… let me stay until sunrise. Please, Toji.”

Hearing his name from your lips made his eyes narrow.

“Don’t,” he warned. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re actually married.”

He turned away from you and walked over to the small hearth. He crouched down, added two fresh logs, and stoked the fire back to life with practiced efficiency. The warm orange glow slowly filled the room, chasing away some of the chill.

When he stood again, he looked even bigger in the firelight — shoulders impossibly wide, muscles shifting under the thin tank top, the scar at his mouth pulling as he scowled.

“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”

You obeyed, lowering yourself carefully onto the chair. The moment you sat, exhaustion crashed into you like a wave. Your feet throbbed. Every cut and bruise ached. You were filthy, terrified, and running on nothing but fear and adrenaline.

Toji disappeared down the short hallway and returned a minute later with a metal basin, a clean rag, and a small jar. He set the basin on the floor in front of you, then dropped into the chair across the table, watching you with those sharp green eyes.

“Clean your feet,” he said gruffly. “I’m not carrying you around if they get infected.”

You dipped the rag into the water and started wiping away the mud and blood as carefully as you could. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Outside, the village was completely quiet.

Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, studying you like livestock.

“You really think this marriage story is gonna hold?” he asked after a long minute. “Village folk love to talk. By noon tomorrow everyone’s gonna want to meet my mysterious bride.”

You kept your eyes on your injured feet. “I just need a day or two to figure out where to go next. I can… I can work. I’m not useless. I can clean, cook, help in the shop—”

Toji’s low chuckle cut you off.

“You? Working in a butcher shop?” He shook his head. “You look like you’ve never touched anything bloodier than a sewing needle in your life.”

He watched you struggle to clean a deep cut on your sole for another moment before he made an irritated sound and leaned forward.

“Give me your foot.”

You hesitated.

“Now,” he growled.

You slowly lifted your leg. Toji took your ankle in his huge, rough hand — surprisingly gentle despite the calluses and dried blood on his fingers. He pulled the basin closer and started cleaning your wounds himself with careful, efficient movements.

The contrast was jarring: this terrifying mountain of a man, covered in someone else’s blood, carefully tending to your torn-up feet.

“You’re staying the night,” he said quietly, not looking up from his work. “Not because I’m kind. Because if I throw you out now, those three hens will ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell to do with you.”

He finished cleaning one foot and moved to the other. His thumb brushed accidentally over a sensitive spot and you hissed softly.

Toji’s eyes flicked up to your face for a second, something unreadable flashing across his expression.

“After that…” He set your foot down carefully and leaned back again, voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna start paying off the trouble you just caused me.”

He didn’t explain what that meant.

But the way he was looking at you — slow, heavy, possessive — made heat crawl up your neck despite the fear.

Toji held your gaze for another long moment before he finally released your ankle. He pushed the basin aside with his boot and stood, towering over you once more. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his face, catching on the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth.

“Stay there,” he muttered.

He disappeared into the back room again. You heard the sound of water splashing, then heavy footsteps returning. When he came back, he carried a thick wool blanket and a tin cup. He set the cup in front of you — it was filled with cool water — and dropped the blanket over the back of your chair.

“Drink,” he ordered. “You look half-dead.”

You obeyed without thinking, your hands still trembling slightly as you lifted the cup. The water was clean and cold, soothing your raw throat. Toji watched you drink the entire thing, arms crossed, before he spoke again.

You lowered the empty cup. “Thank you… for the water. And for cleaning my feet.”

He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, like thanks made him uncomfortable. Then he leaned against the edge of the table, close enough that his thigh nearly brushed your arm.

“You really thought this through?” he asked, voice low. “Running in a fancy white dress, announcing yourself as my wife in front of the nosiest women in the village… What’s your actual plan once the sun comes up?”

You stared down at your bandaged feet. “I didn’t have time for a real plan. I just knew I couldn’t let them marry me off to that monster. I thought if I could get far enough away, maybe sell the dress, I could buy passage on a cart or a boat. Start over somewhere no one knows me.”

Toji exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but darker. “Selling that dress would’ve gotten you robbed or worse before you even reached the next town. You’re lucky you only made it as far as my doorstep.”

Silence settled again, broken only by the crackling fire. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed you still were — the torn bodice of the wedding gown hanging loosely, the lace ripped in several places, dirt and dried blood streaked across your skin.

Toji’s eyes drifted over you again, slower this time. They lingered on the curve of your shoulder where the dress had slipped, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the white fabric clung to your thighs.

“You look ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “Like a bride who lost a fight with a pack of wolves.”

Despite everything, a tiny, tired smile tugged at your lips. “That’s… not far from the truth.”

He pushed off the table and walked over to a wooden chest in the corner. He rummaged inside and pulled out a large, worn linen shirt — clearly one of his. It looked big enough to reach your knees.

“Here.” He tossed it to you. “Can’t have you walking around my place looking like that. Change. There’s a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up more.”

You clutched the shirt to your chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You’re still in my house. Still wearing that damn dress that’s going to bring trouble to my door.”

He turned his back to give you a moment of privacy, busying himself by adding another log to the fire. You quickly stood, wincing at the pain in your feet, and slipped behind the partial wall that separated the washroom. You peeled off the ruined wedding dress with shaking hands, letting the torn fabric pool at your feet. The cool air kissed your bare skin as you pulled Toji’s shirt over your head. It smelled faintly of smoke, soap, and something unmistakably masculine. The hem fell halfway down your thighs.

When you stepped back out, Toji turned around. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on you in his shirt.

“Better,” he grunted, though his voice sounded rougher than before.

He gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. Only one bed. You take it tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”

You hesitated. “I can sleep on the floor. I’ve already caused enough—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off. “My house, my rules. Get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

You walked carefully down the short hall, every step still painful. The bedroom was small and simple like the rest of the apartment — a large wooden bed with thick blankets, a single chair, and a window overlooking the dark village street. You climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.

Toji appeared in the doorway a minute later, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame. The firelight from the main room silhouetted his massive form.

“Door stays open,” he said. “And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. If I have to chase you down, I won’t be in a generous mood.”

You nodded, sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion was pulling at you hard now, but sleep still felt far away with him standing there watching you.

“Toji…” you whispered.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” you said again, softer. “For not throwing me out.”

His expression didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted. He pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave.

“Get some sleep, runaway,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”

He left the door wide open. You heard him moving around in the main room — the creak of the wooden chair as he sat down, the quiet clink of a cup. The fire continued to crackle.

You lay there in his bed, wrapped in his shirt, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. The fake marriage. The village women who now believed you were his wife. Lord Kato still out there searching. And the terrifying, strangely careful butcher who had just tended to your wounds and given you his bed.

Sleep finally claimed you, but even in your dreams you could still feel the heavy weight of Toji’s gaze on your skin.

You woke to the sound of knocking.

It was loud, cheerful, and relentless — three sharp raps on the shop door downstairs, followed by muffled feminine voices. Sunlight streamed through the small bedroom window, warm and golden. For a brief, disoriented moment you forgot where you were. Then everything crashed back: the forest, the blood-stained butcher, the lie you’d told.

You sat up quickly. Toji’s oversized linen shirt had ridden up your thighs during the night. Your feet still ached, but the bandages held firm. You heard heavy footsteps downstairs, then Toji’s low, irritated growl as he opened the door.

“Morning!” a cheerful woman’s voice called up. “We brought breakfast for the newlyweds! Fresh bread, stew, and honey cakes. Don’t tell us you’re still in bed on your wedding night!”

Another woman giggled. “We’re dying to meet your bride properly!”

Toji’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking imposing in the daylight. He wore a clean black tunic stretched tight across his chest, the same blood-stained apron tied around his waist. His hair was messy, jaw set with clear annoyance.

“They’re here,” he said flatly. “Three of them. Loaded with food.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”

Toji’s green eyes dragged over you — bare legs, wearing nothing but his shirt. Something dark flickered across his face.

“You sold us as newlyweds,” he reminded you, voice low. “So act like it. Smile. Look happy. Keep the story straight.”

He stepped closer and tugged the hem of the shirt down your thighs possessively. “There’s a spare skirt and blouse in the chest. Change. Quickly.”

You moved fast, wincing at the pain in your feet. Toji turned his back while you dressed in the simple dark green skirt and cream blouse. They were a little loose but far more practical.

When you were ready, Toji gave you one last look and jerked his head toward the stairs. “Downstairs. Remember — you’re my wife.”

The three women had already let themselves into the front of the shop. They had laid out a generous spread on the wooden counter: warm bread, a pot of hearty stew, honey cakes, and spiced cider. The moment you appeared behind Toji, their faces lit up.

“Oh, here she is!” the tallest, round-faced woman exclaimed. “Look at you, dear. Much better than last night. I’m Mrs. Sato, by the way! My husband runs the bakery just down the street.” She gestured to the other two. “This is Mira and little Hana.”

The younger women smiled warmly.

“You clean up beautifully,” Mira said. “You already have that newlywed glow!”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your lower back, warm and claiming.

“Thank you,” you said, offering a shy smile. “You’re all so kind. I’m sorry for how I looked last night… the journey through the forest was harder than I expected.”

Mrs. Sato waved her hand. “No apologies needed! Running away from a bad match to be with the man you love? It’s the most romantic thing to happen in this village in years.”

Toji grunted, his thumb slowly stroking your spine. “Wasn’t exactly planned,” he said dryly. “But here we are.”

The women laughed and chattered while you helped serve the food. They asked how you met, how long you’d been secretly courting, and whether you planned to stay in the village. You answered carefully, sticking close to the story. Toji added short, gruff confirmations, never moving far from your side.

Just as the women were gathering their empty baskets to leave, a loud, sharp knock echoed through the shop.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This knock was different — heavy, authoritative, and impatient.

Toji’s hand tensed on your back. His expression hardened instantly.

Mrs. Sato glanced toward the door, curious. “Are you expecting more visitors already?”

Toji didn’t answer. He moved toward the door, positioning himself so his broad frame blocked most of the view inside. You stayed behind the counter, heart suddenly hammering.

He opened the door.

Two armed men stood outside, wearing the dark crimson and gold colors of Lord Kato’s household. Swords hung at their hips. Their eyes scanned the interior of the shop coldly.

“We’re searching for a missing girl,” the taller guard announced. “Runaway bride. White wedding dress. She fled the lord’s estate last night. Anyone matching that description come through here?”

The air in the shop grew thick. Mrs. Sato and the other two women turned to look at you with wide eyes, then back at the guards.

Toji’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “No one like that here.”

The second guard tried to peer past him. “Mind if we take a look inside?”

You stayed frozen behind the counter, heart hammering. Before Toji could answer, Mrs. Sato stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had gossiped through every scandal the village had ever seen.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said brightly, waving a hand. “You boys are wasting your time. That right there is Toji Fushiguro — our butcher for the last fifteen years. We’ve known him since he was a surly teenager dragging whole pigs through these doors!”

Mira immediately jumped in, nodding eagerly. “And he has a wife! They’ve been happily married for two whole years now. We were at their quiet little wedding ourselves. Very romantic.”

Hana clapped her hands together dramatically. “Yes! They’re the sweetest couple. Toji can barely keep his hands off her even when he’s covered in blood. Always canoodling right outside the shop like they’re still courting!”

Mrs. Sato leaned toward the guards like she was sharing precious village lore. “Honestly, if some runaway noble girl in a fancy white dress had shown up here last night, the entire village would’ve known before sunrise. This dear girl has been living above the shop for ages. Helps Toji with the accounts and everything. She’s no fugitive — she’s the butcher’s wife, plain and simple.”

Toji finally moved. He reached back with one thick arm, caught you around the waist, and pulled you forward against his side in one smooth motion. His grip was firm and possessive, his large hand resting heavily on your hip as he held you close.

The guards blinked, clearly thrown by the united front.

The taller one squinted at you. “But the missing girl was wearing a white wedding dress…”

Mira let out a theatrical laugh. “Plenty of white dresses in the world! Our girl here has been wearing plain village clothes for years. Look at her — does she look like some pampered noble who ran away last night?”

Hana nodded vigorously. “Exactly! She even makes the best meat pies in the village. We’d know if she was some lord’s bride.”

The two guards exchanged uncertain glances. Between Toji’s intimidating size, the three women’s absolute certainty, and the perfectly domestic scene in front of them, their suspicion melted away.

The shorter guard cleared his throat. “Seems like a false lead, then. Sorry to bother you folks.”

The taller one gave a reluctant nod. “Apologies for the intrusion. If you hear anything about a girl in a white dress, send word to the lord’s estate.”

Mrs. Sato smiled sweetly. “Of course, dears. Safe travels back!”

The guards turned and walked off down the street without another word.

The moment the door clicked shut, Mrs. Sato burst into laughter and fanned herself. “Well! That was more excitement than we usually get before noon.”

Mira winked at you. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got your back. No one’s taking the butcher’s wife anywhere.”

Hana grinned. “We’ll spread the word. The whole village will keep an eye out.”

Toji gave them a short, gruff nod. “Appreciate it.”

The women gathered their empty baskets, still buzzing, and finally left with more promises of future visits and gifts.

The shop fell quiet again, morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows.

Toji slowly turned to face you. His hand was still on your waist, heavy and warm. For a long moment he just studied you, green eyes dark and intense.

“You’re damn lucky those three are the nosiest women alive,” he muttered. “They just sold that story better than we could’ve.”

He stepped closer, backing you gently against the counter. His voice dropped low, rough around the edges.

“So the whole village’s got our back it seems.” His thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone. “This lie keeps growing. Whole village thinks you’re mine now.”

His gaze dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.

“So tell me, runaway… how long do you plan on playing my wife? And how far are you willing to go to make everyone believe it?”

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. The counter pressed into your lower back, and Toji’s broad body blocked out most of the morning light. His hand remained heavy on your hip, thumb still tracing slow, absent circles that made your skin prickle beneath the thin blouse.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think past getting away from Lord Kato. I just wanted to survive the night.”

Toji hummed, low and thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to decide whether you were worth the growing headache you’d brought him.

“Surviving isn’t enough anymore,” he said. “Not after this morning. Those guards will report back. When they don’t find you, Kato will send more men. Maybe even come himself.” His fingers flexed on your hip. “And the whole village now believes you’re mine. If the story breaks, they’ll look like fools. They won’t forgive that easily.”

You met his eyes, heart thudding. “Then what do we do?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he reached up with his free hand and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone so rough-looking. His calloused fingertips lingered against the side of your neck.

“We lean into it,” he finally said. “Hard. You stay. You act like my wife in public — every smile, every touch, every time someone knocks on that door. No slipping up. No running off when it gets hard.”

He leaned in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “And in private… we figure out the real terms.”

Your breath caught. “Real terms?”

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, dangerous half-smirk. “You cost me peace and quiet, runaway. You cost me the simple life where nobody bothered me. So you’re going to start paying me back.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the heat in his green eyes made it very clear what kind of payment he had in mind.

“I won’t force you,” he continued, surprising you. “Door’s right there. You can still walk out and take your chances on the road. But if you stay…” His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Then you’re mine until this blows over. Or longer. Depends how good you are at pretending.”

The solid wall of his chest pressed against you, warm and unyielding. You could smell faint traces of smoke, soap, and the metallic hint of blood that never quite left him. Your hands came up instinctively, resting lightly on his abdomen.

“I’m not pretending right now,” you whispered.

Toji’s eyes darkened. For a second you thought he might kiss you — really kiss you — but he held back, letting the tension stretch until it was almost unbearable.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because the village expects a devoted wife. They’ll be watching. Bringing food. Asking questions. Asking when we’re going to have little butchers running around.”

Your face burned. Toji chuckled, deep and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“Don’t worry. We’ll give them a good show.” He finally stepped back, giving you room to breathe again, though his hand lingered on your waist a moment longer. “For now, help me open the shop. Act natural. If anyone else comes asking, you know what to say.”

You nodded, still flushed.

As he turned to start his morning routine — sharpening knives, hanging fresh cuts, preparing the counter — you moved to help where you could. Every time you passed near him, his hand would brush your lower back or arm — small, deliberate touches that looked casual to anyone watching but felt heavy with intent.

By midday, a few villagers had already stopped by “just to say hello” and congratulate the newlyweds. Each time, Toji played his part perfectly — gruff, possessive, pulling you close with an ease that made the performance feel dangerously real.

An older man dropped off a small basket of eggs and clapped Toji on the back. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you settle down, Fushiguro. She must be something special.”

Toji’s arm tightened around your waist as he gave a low grunt. “She is.” His fingers flexed against your side, warm through the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into him instinctively, playing along, and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath his tunic.

A young mother came next with her toddler in tow, offering a jar of preserved berries. She smiled at you brightly. “You two look so good together. How long have you been hiding her from us, Toji?”

“Long enough,” he answered, voice rough but carrying a hint of smugness. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head right in front of her. The casual affection made your stomach flutter.

By early afternoon the steady trickle of visitors finally slowed. Toji flipped the shop sign to “Closed for the Day” and locked the front door with a heavy click. The sudden silence felt louder than all the chatter combined.

You let out a shaky breath and leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself. “They really believe it. All of them.”

Toji wiped his hands on a rag, watching you from across the room. He tossed the rag aside and stalked toward you, slow and deliberate.

Gods, he was huge.

Up close like this, in the quiet afternoon light, the sheer size of him hit you all over again. Broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the fabric of his black tunic, thick arms corded with muscle from years of hauling heavy carcasses, a powerful chest that rose and fell steadily. The jagged scar at the corner of his mouth only made him more striking — dangerous, rough, and strangely, undeniably attractive. Those sharp green eyes pinned you in place, intimidating as ever, yet there was something magnetic about the way he moved. Like a predator who knew exactly how much power he held and chose not to use it… yet.

He stopped right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. One large hand came up to cup your chin, thumb brushing along your jaw.

“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said quietly.

You felt your pulse quicken under his touch. “I feel like I’m going to faint every time someone looks at me.”

His thumb stroked slowly over your skin. “You’re not fainting. You’re standing here in my shop, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you like you belong to me.” His voice dropped lower. “Looks pretty convincing from where I’m standing.”

The air between you thickened. You could smell the faint mix of blood, woodsmoke, and clean sweat that clung to him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming — the heat rolling off his massive frame, the way his broad chest nearly brushed against you with every breath.

“What happens when the guards come back?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.

Toji’s expression darkened. “Then we give them the same show. Or I handle it my way.” His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. “But right now? Shop’s closed. No more visitors. No more pretending for a little while.”

He didn’t move away. Neither did you.

Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, exhaustion and adrenaline twisting into something warmer, heavier. Your hands rose to rest on his chest, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath your palms.

“Toji…” you started, unsure what you even wanted to say.

He cut you off with a low sound. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that and I might start believing this marriage is real myself.”

His grip on the back of your neck tightened just slightly — not painful, but enough to remind you how easily he could pull you in. His green eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering this time, dark with hunger.

“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier,” he murmured. “How far are you willing to go, runaway?”

The shop was quiet except for the distant sounds of village life outside. No one was watching now. It was just the two of you, the weight of the lie, and the growing, electric heat between you.

You wet your lips, heart racing.

“I’m still here,” you whispered. “That should tell you something.”

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, hungry smirk.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “It does.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The shop was quiet now, the afternoon light cutting sharp lines across the wooden floor and the rows of knives hanging on the wall. Toji didn’t step back. He stayed right there, towering over you, one hand still gripping the back of your neck while the other rested heavy on your hip.

He really was massive up close.

Broad shoulders that strained his tunic, thick arms veined and scarred from years of brutal work, a chest so solid it looked like it could take a hit from a horse and keep going. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his face a permanent edge, dangerous and rough. Yet there was something about the way he looked at you — intense green eyes, half-lidded, focused — that made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

Toji noticed you staring.

“Eyes up here,” he muttered, but the corner of his scarred mouth twitched like he was amused. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna get the wrong idea.”

You swallowed. “I’ve never been this close to someone like you.”

“Someone like me,” he repeated, almost mocking. He leaned in a little more, voice dropping low. “Big, ugly butcher covered in blood half the time?”

You shook your head. “Not ugly.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Toji paused, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to decide if you were lying. Then he let out a short, rough breath.

His thumb brushed slowly along the side of your neck, calloused and warm. You could feel the strength in his hand, how easily he could tighten his grip if he wanted. The contrast between that raw power and the way he was holding back made the air feel thick.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “I’m not a patient man, runaway. And I’m definitely not a gentle one.”

Your hands were still pressed against his chest. Under your palms, his muscles were firm and warm, shifting slightly with each breath. You didn’t pull away.

“I know,” you whispered.

Toji’s jaw flexed. For a moment his control looked strained — shoulders tense, fingers pressing harder into your skin. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“If you stay,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “this stops being fake whenever I say it does. Behind this door, you won’t be playing a role. You’ll be in my bed. Under me. Taking what I give you.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip. “And you’ll moan my name like you mean it.”

Your breath caught.

Toji held your gaze for another long second, then slowly released you. He stepped back, rolling one shoulder like he needed to shake off the tension. The sudden space felt colder than it should have.

“But not right now,” he added gruffly. “You’re still half-dead on your feet and I’ve got work to finish before the meat spoils.”

He turned toward the back counter and picked up his sharpening stone. The steady scrape of metal filled the shop as he worked on one of his larger knives. You stayed by the front counter, watching the way his back and arms moved — powerful, efficient, every motion reminding you exactly what kind of man had just offered to claim you.

Every so often he glanced over at you, eyes dark and unreadable.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Heavy with everything neither of you was saying out loud.

After a while, Toji spoke without looking up from his work.

“You hungry?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden normal question. “A little.”

He jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s leftover stew from this morning in the pot upstairs. Heat it up if you want. Or stay down here. Doesn’t matter to me.”

You hesitated, then moved to help him organize the counter instead. Every time you passed close by, his arm would brush yours — deliberate, not accidental. Small reminders that the tension hadn’t gone anywhere.

The afternoon stretched on like that. Quiet work. Occasional glances. The weight of his presence never really leaving you.

By the time the sun had fully set and the village outside grew dark and quiet, the tension between you had only thickened. Lanterns flickered in distant windows, but inside the butcher shop everything felt hushed and intimate.

Toji locked the front door with a heavy click and killed most of the lanterns, leaving only a single low one burning near the stairs. The warm glow followed you both upstairs, casting long shadows across the wooden beams.

He grabbed a spare blanket from the chest and headed for the worn couch against the far wall without a word. The piece of furniture looked comically small beneath his massive frame as he tossed the blanket over it. Then he reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion.

Your mouth went dry.

Firelight danced over his bare back and shoulders — thick slabs of muscle shifting under scarred skin, powerful arms flexing as he folded the tunic. His waist tapered into a sharp V, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Every inch of him looked hard, battle-worn, and undeniably masculine. The sight made something low in your belly tighten.

You stood frozen in the bedroom doorway.

“Wait,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Toji glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised. The movement made the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex visibly.

You twisted your fingers in the hem of your blouse, cheeks already burning.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you offered shyly. “The bed is… big enough for both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Toji slowly turned around to face you fully. The low firelight carved deep shadows across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every old scar, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his trousers. He looked even bigger like this — raw power barely contained, green eyes locked on you with dangerous intensity.

He took one slow step closer, then another.

“Careful what you offer me, runaway,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. “I’m not the type to hold back.”

You swallowed hard but didn’t back away.

“I just… it doesn’t feel right making you sleep on that tiny thing after everything,” you murmured, eyes flicking involuntarily down his bare chest before snapping back up. “We’re supposed to be married. At least to everyone else.”

Toji stopped just inches away from you. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around you like a cloak. You could smell him — smoke, clean sweat, and that faint metallic trace that always clung to his skin. His sheer size made you feel small and fragile in comparison.

He tilted his head, studying you like prey.

“You offering to share my bed isn’t about being polite,” he murmured. “If I get in that bed with you, I’m not staying on my side. I’ll pull you against me. I’ll have my hands all over that soft little body. And if you keep looking at me with those wide, needy eyes…”

He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I won’t be able to stop myself from spreading those pretty thighs and finding out exactly how wet pretending to be my wife has made you.”

Your breath hitched sharply. Heat flooded your face and pooled between your legs. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, but Toji noticed — of course he did. A dark, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face again, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.

“I’m not gentle,” he continued, voice dropping even lower. “I fuck hard. I take what I want. And right now, I want to ruin that shy little runaway who dropped to her knees at my door and turned my whole life upside down.”

His hand came up, knuckles lightly dragging down the side of your neck, over your racing pulse, then lower until they brushed the neckline of your blouse. Not quite touching skin, but close enough to make you shiver.

“So think very carefully before you offer again,” he warned. “Because once I’m in that bed, the only pretending left will be how long you can keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”

The air felt too thick to breathe.

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he watched the effect his words had on you.

“Still want to share a bed with me… wife?”

Toji’s words hung heavy in the air.

You didn’t answer with words.

You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and gave a small, shy nod.

That was all it took.

Toji’s control snapped. A low, almost feral sound rumbled in his chest as he moved. In one fluid motion he scooped you up, one thick arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught at how easily he carried you — his biceps flexing hard against your body, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your side.

He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down on your back with surprising care, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. The mattress dipped deeply under his weight as he climbed over you, caging you in completely with his massive frame. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the firelight, leaving you in shadow beneath him.

“You a virgin?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes searching yours like he was looking for any hesitation.

You nodded again, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word almost reverent. His gaze darkened as it dragged slowly down your body. “Gonna have to take my time with you then. Can’t wreck this tight little virgin cunt on the first thrust.”

He kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth in slow, filthy strokes while his rough hands explored every inch of you. He took his time peeling your clothes off — first tugging your blouse over your head, then sliding your skirt down your legs, and finally hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and dragging them off. When you were completely naked beneath him, he sat back on his heels and just stared, drinking in every inch of your exposed body like a man who’d been starving for weeks.

“So fucking small,” he muttered, almost to himself. His large hands ran up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin on the inside, then spread your legs wide open. “Look at this pretty virgin pussy… already glistening and I’ve barely touched you.”

The cool air hit your wet folds and you shivered. Toji’s eyes were locked between your legs, dark and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He lowered himself between your spread thighs like a man on a mission. The first slow, hot drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit made your entire body jolt. Toji groaned deeply at your taste, the sound vibrating straight through you.

“Sweet as hell,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”

Then he devoured you.

His tongue worked in slow, broad strokes, licking every inch of your soaked folds before focusing on your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling and pressing but not pushing in yet. When you started whimpering and rolling your hips, he finally pushed one thick finger inside you — careful, but relentless.

“So goddamn tight,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl. “This little hole is gonna fight my cock the whole way in.”

He curled his finger slowly, searching, until he found that spongy spot that made your back arch. He rubbed it firmly while sucking harder on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the quiet bedroom — slick, filthy, and loud. Your thighs started trembling around his head as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.

“Toji— oh gods—”

He didn’t let up. He ate you out like he was starving for it — messy, hungry, and completely focused on pulling every sound out of you. He added a second finger, stretching you open carefully, scissoring them while his tongue flicked fast and firm over your clit. The pressure built unbearably fast.

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your back arched clean off the bed as you came hard on his face with a broken, sobbing cry of his name. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, pulsing wildly.

Toji licked you through every wave, slow and thorough, drawing out every last tremor until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly. Only then did he pull back. His chin and lips were shiny with your slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at your flushed, panting face.

Then he shoved his trousers down.

His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veined, and longer than anything you’d ever imagined. The flushed head was already leaking steadily.

“See this?” he said, stroking himself slowly. “This is gonna stretch you wide open, baby. But I’ll make it fit.”

He climbed back over you, pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.

“Deep breaths,” he warned. “Gonna go slow.”

He pushed in.

The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply, a high-pitched whimper escaping you as just the thick head popped inside. “Ah—! Toji… it’s so big…”

Toji groaned, jaw clenched tight as he fought the urge to slam forward. “Fuck— so tight,” he hissed. “Relax for me, baby. Let me in.”

You whimpered softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “It burns… but— ah— don’t stop…”

He worked himself in inch by slow, careful inch. Every time you tensed, he stopped, leaning down to kiss your neck or suck on your tits until you loosened again. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the restraint.

Halfway in, you let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering. “Oh gods… I can feel you so deep already…”

Toji looked down at the bulge already forming in your lower belly. “Shit… look at that,” he groaned, pressing a big hand over the swell. “My cock’s barely halfway and I can already see it inside you.”

When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt so full you could barely breathe. A broken whimper left your lips. “T-Toji… you’re all the way in… I feel so full…”

Toji stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he kissed you slow and deep. “Good girl,” he praised, voice strained. “Taking every inch of my cock on your first time. Such a perfect little wife.”

When your whimpers turned into soft, needy moans, he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet drag of his thick cock against your walls made you cry out.

“Feel that?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? Gonna breed this cunt so full tonight.”

“Ah—! Yes… I feel it,” you moaned, voice trembling. “It’s so deep… Toji—!”

His pace gradually picked up. The bed started creaking rhythmically as he fucked you harder, deeper. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth.

“Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Pump this tight womb full of my cum until it takes. Want you walking around the village with my kid growing inside you. Everyone’s gonna know exactly who fucked you first.”

The filthy words sent you spiraling. “Please— Toji— I’m gonna—!” You came hard around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as you screamed his name, “Toji—! Ahh—!”

Toji snarled and fucked you through it, pace turning brutal. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed loudly.

“Fuck— gonna cum,” he groaned. “Gonna breed you— take it all—”

You whimpered and moaned beneath him, voice hoarse, “Cum inside me… please— fill me up—!”

He slammed in deep one final time and came with a long, guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after heavy pulse. There was so much it leaked out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him. Toji kept grinding deep, pushing every drop into your womb, hand pressing down on the bulge in your belly like he wanted to keep it all inside you.

You let out a soft, overwhelmed whimper at the feeling of being so full of him.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat.

Then he leaned down, kissed you slow and possessive, and murmured against your lips:

“This cunt belongs to me.”

Toji stayed inside you for a while longer, gently grinding and kissing your neck, before he finally pulled out with a low groan. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your abused hole onto the sheets. He looked down at the mess with dark satisfaction, then rolled onto his back and pulled you against his chest.

“Rest now,” he said quietly, voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a heavy arm around you. “You’ve had a long day, runaway. Close your eyes.”

He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, his large hand resting possessively on your lower belly.

“Go to sleep.”

-

You woke up to warmth.

A heavy, solid arm was draped across your waist, pinning you to a broad chest. Toji’s body was curled around yours from behind, one thick thigh wedged between your legs. His breathing was slow and deep, but the moment you shifted even slightly, his grip tightened possessively.

The room was still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the small window. Your body ached — a deep, satisfying soreness between your thighs, faint bruises on your hips from his fingers, and the unmistakable sticky warmth of his cum still leaking out of you.

You tried to move again, but Toji’s low, sleepy growl stopped you.

“Stay,” he muttered against the back of your neck, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down to cup your lower belly, pressing lightly. “Not done holding you yet.”

Heat rushed to your face. You stayed still, letting him pull you tighter against him. His cock — already half-hard again — rested heavy against your ass.

After a few quiet minutes, Toji sighed and finally loosened his grip. He rolled you onto your back so he could look down at you. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but the smirk on his scarred mouth was fully awake.

“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly. His hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles. “How’re you feeling?”

You shifted, wincing a little at the soreness. “Full… and sore,” you admitted softly.

Toji’s smirk widened into something darker, more satisfied. He leaned down and kissed you — slow and lazy at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled back, he dragged his hand lower, fingers brushing through the mess between your thighs.

“Still leaking my cum,” he murmured, almost proud. “Good.”

He pushed two thick fingers back inside you, slow and careful, fucking his dried cum deeper. You whimpered, hips twitching.

“Toji—”

“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your temple. “Not fucking you again right now. You’re too sore.” He kept his fingers inside you anyway, lazy and possessive. “Just keeping you full.”

You stayed like that for a while — his fingers buried inside you, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder. The morning was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and your soft sounds.

Eventually he pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while watching your face.

“Breakfast,” he said simply. “Then we open the shop.”

He got up first, completely naked and shameless. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the powerful lines of his back, the flex of his ass and thighs as he moved. He caught you looking and chuckled.

“Keep staring like that and I will bend you over the table downstairs,” he warned.

You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.

He tossed you one of his clean shirts and a fresh skirt. While you dressed, he pulled on his usual trousers and tank top, tying his blood-stained apron around his waist.

Before you left the bedroom, he caught your wrist and pulled you close one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

“Last night wasn’t pretend,” he said quietly, eyes serious. “Not for me. You’re mine. Understand?”

You swallowed and whispered, “I understand.”

He kissed you again — hard, claiming — then rested his forehead against yours for a second.

“Good.”

He led you downstairs, his hand firm on your lower back the entire way.

The village was waking up outside. And for the first time since you’d run away, you didn’t feel like running anymore.

Toji unlocked the front door and flipped the sign while you tied on a clean apron. The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Sato’s bakery and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. A few early customers began drifting toward the shop.

The first hour passed in a surprisingly calm rhythm. You helped weigh portions, wrap cuts of meat in clean paper, and hand them over with a shy smile. Toji stayed close the whole time — sometimes reaching past you for a knife, sometimes resting a hand on your waist as he moved behind you. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was marking his territory even when no one was watching.

Then the bell above the door rang again.

A tall, sun-tanned man with kind eyes and an easy, friendly smile stepped inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, with the strong build of someone who spent his days working the fields. He greeted Toji with a familiar nod.

“Morning, Fushiguro. The usual shoulder cut, please.” His gaze shifted to you behind the counter and softened with genuine interest. “You must be the new wife everyone’s been talking about. I’m Haru. I run the big farm past the mill.”

You returned his smile politely. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”

He watched as you carefully wrapped his order, your hands still a little clumsy with the butcher paper. “It’s good to see a new face around here,” he said warmly. “You seem really kind. Gentle. The kind of person who makes a place feel brighter just by being in it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “If you ever need anything — extra vegetables from the farm, help carrying something heavy, or just someone to talk to when things get quiet — my door’s always open. Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely so soon after moving in.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to any hidden meaning, and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before you could say anything else, the air behind you changed.

Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your hip, fingers digging in with clear possession as he pulled you back firmly against his chest. His other arm slid around your waist, locking you in place.

“She won’t be needing anything,” Toji said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I take care of my wife.”

Haru blinked, the friendly smile faltering as he finally registered the tension rolling off the butcher. “Of course. I was just… being neighborly.”

Toji’s grip on your hip tightened. “Neighborly is saying hello. The rest sounded like something else.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Haru swallowed hard, quickly paid for his meat, and muttered a polite goodbye before leaving without another word. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle.

The second he was gone, Toji spun you around and backed you against the counter. His green eyes were dark, jaw clenched tight with barely-contained jealousy. One big hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip.

“You really didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice rough.

You shook your head, genuinely confused. “He was just being nice…”

Toji let out a short, irritated breath and leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “He wasn’t just being nice. He was testing the waters. Seeing if my wife might be open to something else. Offering you a soft place to land if you ever got tired of me.”

His other hand slid under your skirt, fingers brushing between your thighs and finding you still slick from the night before. You gasped softly as he pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them slowly.

“Toji—”

“Mine,” he growled quietly against your ear, pumping his fingers in a lazy rhythm. “This pussy is mine. You are mine. I don’t want you smiling so sweetly at other men. Understand?”

You whimpered, clutching his shoulders as pleasure sparked through your still-sensitive body. “I understand…”

He kissed you then — hard, possessive, and hungry — while his fingers continued their slow, deliberate strokes. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still dark with jealousy.

“Next time someone talks to you like that,” he said, voice low, “you let me handle it.”

He reluctantly withdrew his fingers, straightened your skirt, and stepped back like nothing had happened. But the tension in his shoulders and the dark look in his eyes remained.

“Back to work,” he said gruffly, still clearly worked up.

You nodded, legs shaky, heart racing, and turned back to the counter.

The rest of the morning passed with Toji staying even closer than before — a constant, heavy, possessive presence at your side. Every time another customer entered, his hand found your waist or lower back, silently reminding everyone (and you) exactly who you belonged to.

The rest of the morning dragged on with the same heavy tension.

Every time a male customer stepped through the door, Toji’s demeanor shifted. His hand would find your waist, your hip, or the small of your back — a silent, unmistakable claim. He answered questions in short, clipped tones and watched the men with sharp, warning eyes. You tried to focus on wrapping orders and smiling politely, but the constant possessiveness was becoming impossible to ignore.

By early afternoon, when the shop finally quieted again, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

You turned to him while he was wiping down the counter.

“Toji,” you said softly, “you’re being too much.”

He paused, setting the rag down slowly. When he looked at you, his green eyes had gone dark.

“Too much?” he repeated, voice low and deceptively calm.

You swallowed but stood your ground. “Yes. The constant touching, the glaring at every man who even looks at me... They’re just customers.”

Toji stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he slowly walked around the counter, backing you up until your hips hit the edge. He caged you in with his massive frame, one hand braced beside you on the wood, the other coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Tell me something, wife… What kind of husband would I be if I let other men think they can have access to what’s mine?”

His voice was rough, low, and dangerous. “If I smiled and stepped aside while they flirted with you? While they offered you help and soft words like they had any right to you?”

He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “I’d be a fucking joke. A weak man who doesn’t know how to protect what belongs to him. And I’m not weak.”

His free hand slid under your skirt without warning, fingers pushing between your thighs. You were bare underneath. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed your folds, he groaned softly — low and rough — when he found you already wet again.

“Already soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Complaining about me being too possessive, but your pussy is dripping the second I touch you.”

“Toji—” you whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from the night before.

He curled his fingers slowly, deliberately, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.

You moaned, loud and broken, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. Your legs trembled around his wrist as pleasure sparked hot and fast through your body.

“You can tell me I’m too much,” he growled against your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “But we both know the truth. You like it when I act like this. You like knowing no one else can touch you. You like being mine.”

His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the quiet shop. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook.

“Ah— Toji… please—” you moaned, voice cracking. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to him. He took full advantage, sucking and biting along your skin while his fingers drove deeper, faster.

You were right there — teetering on the edge, muscles tightening around his thick fingers — when he suddenly pulled his hand away completely.

You let out a desperate, needy whine, hips chasing his fingers uselessly. Your core throbbed, aching and empty.

“Toji…!” you whimpered, voice hoarse and frustrated, eyes glassy with unshed tears of need. “Please— I was so close…”

Toji smirked, dark and satisfied, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm. He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were — coated in your slick right up to his knuckles.

“Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His green eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal. “Look at you… so fucking eager. Whining because I stopped, sucking my fingers like you’d do anything for my cock right now.”

He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged.

“You can complain about me being possessive all you want,” he said, voice dark and low, “but your body doesn’t lie. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”

He suddenly lifted you onto the counter with ease, as if you weighed nothing. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs as he shoved your skirt all the way up to your waist in one rough motion, baring your dripping pussy completely. He stepped between your spread thighs, his broad body forcing your legs wider apart until your knees were nearly touching your shoulders.

His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh with unmistakable ownership. With his other hand, he freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already throbbing. The veined shaft glistened as he stroked himself once, slowly, eyes locked on your exposed, glistening cunt.

“Since you think I’m too possessive,” he said, voice rough and dangerous, “I’m going to remind you exactly why I am.”

He rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.

“Toji… please—”

Without another word, he pushed in with one deep, powerful thrust.

You cried out sharply, back arching hard off the counter as the thick head forced its way inside, stretching you wide open. The sudden, overwhelming fullness stole your breath. Toji groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke, his hips flush against your ass.

“Fuck… still so tight,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure. “Even after I filled you last night. This greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”

He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the heavy wooden counter creaking loudly under the force of every brutal thrust. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the empty shop as he claimed you right there in the middle of the day.

“Mine,” he snarled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another dark mark. “Say it.”

“I’m yours— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, voice breaking as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

He fucked you even harder, hips snapping forward with powerful, punishing strokes. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, loud and filthy. One of his big hands reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, tight circles.

“That’s right,” he panted, breath hot against your ear. “My wife. My pussy. No one else gets to look at you the way I do. No one else gets to touch you. No one else even gets to fucking think about you.”

Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock with every deep thrust. The counter shook beneath you. Your tits bounced wildly inside your blouse with the force of his movements.

He suddenly leaned back slightly, gripping your thighs and spreading you even wider as he drove into you. The new angle made him hit even deeper, the bulge in your lower belly becoming visible with every thrust.

“Look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so fucking deep. This tight cunt was made for my cock.”

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you. “Toji—! It’s too deep— ahh—!”

“You can take it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — fast, violent, and overwhelming. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as waves of intense pleasure tore through your body. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently around his waist.

Toji snarled like a beast, his rhythm turning erratic and savage as he fucked you through your climax. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds.

But he didn’t cum.

Instead, he suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep and slow, keeping you right on the edge of overstimulation. His breathing was ragged, sweat glistening on his chest and neck.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss while still buried deep inside you.

“You’re not done yet,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and full of promise. “We’re nowhere near finished.”

Before you could catch your breath, Toji pulled out of you with a wet, obscene sound. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the thick stretch of him. But he didn’t give you any time to protest.

In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you over onto your stomach across the counter. Your chest pressed against the cool, smooth surface, your cheek resting on the wood as he yanked your hips back and up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your skirt was still bunched uselessly around your waist, leaving you completely exposed — bent over like a whore in the middle of his shop.

Toji kicked your legs wider apart with his foot, then pressed one large hand firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard against the counter.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice thick with raw lust. “Bent over my counter like a proper little wife. Ass up, pussy dripping for me.”

He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing your swollen, abused pussy completely. Without any warning, he spat directly onto your folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit and dripping down. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation, your hips twitching.

Toji groaned at the sight and used two thick fingers to rub his spit into your pussy, mixing it with your own slick, pushing it inside you. Then he brought his palm down hard on your ass with a loud, resounding smack.

The sharp sting bloomed hot across your skin. You cried out, jolting forward on the counter.

“Stay still,” he ordered, voice rough. He smacked the other cheek even harder, watching the way your flesh jiggled and turned pink under his hand. “This ass is mine too. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”

You moaned helplessly, pushing back against him despite the sting. Toji lined up the thick head of his cock again and thrust back inside you in one brutal, deep stroke.

The new angle made him feel impossibly bigger, reaching even deeper. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden counter as he immediately started fucking you hard and fast.

The counter creaked loudly under the force of his powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the empty shop. Toji’s hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke like he was using you.

“Fuck— this pussy feels even better like this,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, watching the way your flesh rippled red under his palm. “So fucking wet. You like being bent over and used like this, don’t you?”

“Yes— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut. Every brutal thrust made your breasts press harder into the wood, your sensitive nipples dragging against it.

Toji reached forward and fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he fucked you even harder. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He spat on your pussy again, right where his thick cock was stretching you open, and used his thumb to rub the saliva into your swollen clit.

“Such a messy little wife,” he panted, smacking your ass repeatedly between thrusts — sharp, stinging slaps that made you clench tighter around him. “Dripping all over my counter. Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it. Look at this greedy cunt swallowing every inch.”

Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. The combination of his brutal pace, the stinging heat on your ass, and the filthy words pushed you right to the edge again.

Toji leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he kept pounding into you without mercy.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he growled, smacking your ass one more time, hard enough to make you yelp.

“You—! It belongs to you— Toji—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and desperate.

He snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the counter shaking beneath you. His hand slipped between your legs again, rubbing your clit fast and rough.

You came with a broken scream, your walls clamping down hard around his thick cock, thighs shaking violently as intense pleasure tore through you.

Toji groaned loudly as your orgasm triggered his own. He slammed in deep one final time and came hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He kept grinding into you slowly, pushing every drop as deep as possible, his hips pressed tight against your reddened ass.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the shop were your heavy breathing and the faint drip of his cum leaking out of you onto the floor.

Toji stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back and kissing the back of your neck possessively.

“Still think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured against your skin, voice dark and satisfied.

You could only whimper in response, too overwhelmed to form words. Your body was trembling, pressed against the counter, pussy still fluttering weakly around his thick cock. Every small shift made you feel the mess he’d left inside you — warm, sticky, and so full it was leaking down your thighs.

Toji let out a low, rumbling sound of approval. He stayed deep for a long moment, grinding slow and lazy, pushing his cum even deeper as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it escaping. His large hand smoothed over the reddened skin of your ass where he’d spanked you, almost soothing now, before giving one last firm squeeze.

“Answer me,” he said quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“…No,” you breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t.”

He hummed, clearly pleased. He finally pulled out slowly, watching with dark eyes as a thick trail of his cum dripped from your abused hole onto the floor. The sight made him groan softly.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” he muttered. He used two fingers to push some of the leaking cum back inside you, then straightened your skirt with surprising care.

Toji helped you stand on shaky legs, turning you to face him. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing your flushed cheek as he studied your expression — eyes glassy, lips swollen, hair messy.

“You’re going to feel me for the rest of the day,” he said, voice low. “Every step. Every time you move. I want you thinking about who fucked you over this counter.”

He leaned in and kissed you — slower this time, but still deep and possessive. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.

“Clean yourself up a little,” he told you, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “We’ve still got half a day left.”

Toji stepped back, tucking himself away and adjusting his apron like nothing had happened, though the dark, satisfied glint in his eyes remained.

You stood there on unsteady legs, heart still racing, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly leaking down your inner thighs.

And somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.

a/n: aren't the old hags kinda iconic? lmk what you think and if you'd be interested in a part two! likes and reblogs appreciated!!

Then, he stalls. He pulls back slowly until only the flushed-angry red tip remains inside, holding you right on the edge. You let out a soft, breathless murmur of his name. When you glance back over your shoulder with lidded eyes, the faint lines around your eyes, the elegant crinkles of a woman who has lived a little, deepen into a heavy, knowing smile. You aren't some young, terrified brat. You’re a grown woman who knows exactly what she bought, and you aren't ashamed of how much you want it.

Looking at that expression on your face, Toji figures he’s giving you every single yen’s worth. He slams his cock back in. The sudden, brutal bottoming out forces an audible, messy squelch from your needy pussy, tearing a sharp gasp straight out of your throat. His shaft is already heavily coated in a thick, wet layer of your own cream, but it’s barely visible beneath the dim, shifting shadows of the room. Unbothered, Toji reaches over and clicks the camera flash on. The harsh, white light cuts through the dark, exposing everything. He uses his massive, calloused fingers to ruthlessly spread you further apart, getting a perfectly clear, high-definition shot for the camera—showing the internet exactly how wide you stretch around him, glistening and completely filled to the brim.

@honored1inthesheets (Gojo Satoru)

THE HONORED ONE CUMS IN WHINY BRAT'S THROAT: LIMITLESS COCK MAKES HER CRY !

The white glare of his phone screen reflects off your sparkly lip gloss that’s smudged all over Gojo’s shaft. Fat, hot tears are already swelling in the corners of your eyes, your cheeks puffed out and aching in a desperate (frankly pathetic) attempt to stretch around the sheer length of his cock.

“There you go, baby,” the white-haired man above you coos, his voice dripping with mock-sweet sympathy.

After ten minutes of nonstop gagging, whining, and bratty complaints—to the point where thick, bubbly spit began dripping down your chin and pooling right into your cleavage—you’ve finally managed to take him all the way down. Gojo looks down at your warm, tear-stained face with a proud and condescending grin, his fingers tangled in your hair to keep you pinned.

“A hard worker, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek with fake gentleness. “Took you long enough to fit it in, baby. But look at you now, a real fuckin’ trooper.”

You try to drown out his teasing and focus on your ministrations, determined to wipe that smug look off his face. You bob your head up and down, deliberately pushing his dick to the very back of your throat. Nasty, wet slurping sounds echo through the quiet room with every single movement, the friction so intense that hot tears streak down your round cheeks again, leaving you breathless. It’s an exhausting effort, but it’s all worth it when he finally loses his cool ‘n mocking composure. His hips jerk forward as he releases a thick, heavy load straight into your mouth, his voice dropping as he praises you.

"That’s my pretty girl. Clean it all up for me, yeah? The fans wanna see.”

@purification.ritual (Geto Suguru)

CULT LEADER BREEDS OBEDIENT MEMBER ON THE ALTAR (FILLS HER UP TO THE BRIM) !

“Perfect,” Geto grunts, a low groan vibrating deep within his broad chest as he rolls his heavy hips against yours. He stays buried deep, keeping the thick, sticky mess he just pooled inside your slicked cunt trapped, using the prodding head of his shaft to push his kids even further up against your womb. He handles your hips like property, long fingers digging dark bruises into your soft skin to anchor you beneath him.

“Always been such a good listener, haven’t you?” he murmurs, his voice a smooth, velvet purr that echoes off the dim sanctuary walls. He leans down, his long black hair brushing against your damp shoulder as his lips graze your ear. “Your loyalty deserves a proper reward.”

You lazily nod in response, but it’s more of a dazed response, your head rolling back against the cold cedar of the altar like some flimsy rag doll. Your mind is completely gone—utterly cock-drunk, floating in a warm, ditzy haze of absolute pleasure and devotion. You can barely form a coherent thought, your round eyes lidded and unfocused as you stare up at the flickering candlelight.

You’re just so incredibly honored. After so long spent listening, obeying, and bending to his every single whim, having your messy pussy stuffed to the brim by your savior feels like the highest holy blessing. It’s the best gift you could ever ask for in return.

“Mmm… thank you, Master,” you whimper out, a tiny, pathetic line of spit stringing from your lips as you tilt your hips, desperately trying to swallow every last drop of his offering. Geto lets out a satisfied chuckle at the sight of your ruined, vacant expression. He strokes your cheek with a mock-gentle touch, pleased with how thoroughly he's broken your mind.

“Just keep it all inside.”

@malevolent_cock (Sukuna Ryomen)

MORTAL SLUT STRUGGLES TO BOUNCE ON A KING.

His bored, crimson eyes blink down at your frustrated, pouty face. You glare at his heavily tattooed cock before wrapping your small hand around the thick shaft, trying your best to guide it into your entrance. The stretch is undeniably painful, the sheer width of him making you pause. This is your third attempt, and your tight walls can only manage to swallow him halfway before you stall out, whimpering from the pressure.

“Any day now, woman,” he grunts, his deep voice scraping through the dark. He’s growing frustrated, patience running thin as he’s forced to just lie there while half his cock is being choked by your wet, trembling walls.

You don’t blame him for getting irritated.

Growing determined, your eyebrows furrow and tears prick hot at the corners of your eyes as you try to force yourself down a few more centimeters. Sukuna sighs—a low sound and suddenly, his large, clawed hands find your waist, his grip bruising as he ruthlessly pulls you down in one swift, sudden swoop. The whine that rips out of your mouth is loud and trembling, your core stretching to its absolute limit as he bottoms out inside you.

The pain turns into a blinding, suffocating rush of pleasure. Gaining a sudden burst of courage from the sheer intensity, you start hopping on his cock like a rabbit, your tits bouncing frantically in unison. Messy, loud squelching sounds echo through the room as your juices spray over his lower stomach, your wet cream coating his tattoos with every deep stride.

@yujisolderbrother (Choso Kamo) <— (had no clue what the website was till after btw)

GOOD NEEDY BOY LICKS MOMMIES PUSSY TILL SHE SQUIRTS !

The camera is shaky in your hand, the angles wobbly and uneven. In your defense, it’s nearly impossible to keep a lens steady when you’ve got a pretty boy buried between your thighs, his tongue thrusting deep in and out of your wet, aching hole. He’s eating your cunt out like he’s on death row and you’re his last meal, completely desperate to please you. Choso is needy beyond belief, letting out soft, pathetic whimpers against your puffy folds each time you use your free hand to shove his face harder into your mount.

“Please…” Your name rasps out on his tongue, raw and begging. Strands of his black hair stick to his damp forehead, his dark eyes shining with pure, unadulterated need as he looks up at you.

“You want to make me feel good that bad, Cho?” you coo down at him, your tone dripping with indulgence as your fingers tangle in his hair.

“Want you to feel so good… want to taste all of you,” he whines, sniffling a little and rubbing at his teary eyes with the back of his wrist because he’s so overwhelmed at this point. He’s completely unraveled, just wanting you to cum on his tongue more than his next breath. He pushes two thick fingers inside you, scissoring them in with perfect harmony, his tongue lapping and circling around your sensitive clit. Deciding he's been a good boy (and because you can’t hold on much longer), you finally grant his wish. Your gummy walls clamp down hard, thighs shaking violently as you spray sweet juices straight onto his waiting pink tongue. Choso licks you down greedily as you capture every single second on the shaking screen.

gojo hums indulgently at you, playing the role of the ever patient and doting boyfriend, “ask for what you want or you won’t get it.”

digging your teeth into your lower lip as you consider your options but as the pads of his fingers caress your g-spot, you know you’re done for. hands grasping at his biceps, eyes a little wider with your overwhelming need, “‘toru! please– ohh god– inside– hng– i want—”

“—you want?”

eyelashes sticking together with your fight against unshed tears, gaze set on how your pussy greedily sucks in his fingers over and over, “your dick!– please– just fuck me open already.”

“good job,” he grins. digits slipping from you, drenched in your slick, “you always struggle to ask for what you want but if you ask, i’ll always give it to you.”

using the hand of the fingers that were just inside you, he lubes his cock with your wetness. hissing through his teeth as he grips his shaft and strokes a few times. you can see the way his abs twitch and his balls pull, he’d neglected himself to prep and tease you.

you always forget that he gets off on giving you pleasure, so involved in how cruel and teasing he’s being to remember that he really loves touching you. there’s gotta be something wrong with him because he looks painfully hard in his hand. he could’ve been inside you ages ago if he weren’t so intent on this song and dance.

“pay attention,” he taps the head of his dick against your clit a few times.

his touch jolts you back to yourself, you’d spaced out while staring at his cock. he slides his tip from your clit down to your hole, almost pressing inside before trailing back up. “why are you such a— hng!”

cut off by your own moan, all the air leaving your lungs. you’d been surprised by how he’s suddenly plunged inside, only about half-way in but more than enough to have your eyes rolling and back arching. he’d worked you up so much already you might cum far quicker than you want too.

“i’m sorry, pretty…” he huffs, making the monumental effort of dragging his eyes from where his cock is splitting you open, “what were you saying?”

you can’t talk, not yet, still reeling from the shock of how good it feels to finally have him in you. walls convulsing wildly around him as you struggle to fight off immediately cumming. though gojo seems to be enjoying your struggle immensely.

he knows, he always knows, he’s just that attuned to your body. so, of course he slams his hips forward and shoves the rest of his dick inside you all at once. your fingers dig into his skin as you mewl, he got what he wanted by doing that. your creamy walls tight and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

you’re cumming hard around him and truly all he’s done is fed you his cock. he finds you adorable, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you squirm and twitch. gooey walls loving on him so sweetly, asking so nicely for his cum. he’s aching for it, he could dump a hot load inside your womb right now but it’s not enough, he needs to have more of your sweet cunt before he’s satisfied.

doing your best to respond but it’s not completely coherent, not when he’s started grinding into you. tip of his dick rubbing against your cervix, stimulating you cruelly as you shake and shiver through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he encourages, hands hooking under your knees to fold you, “what were you gonna tell me?”

you feel so incredibly full, head all fuzzy, “why– hnn– you’re such a fucking tease– hhh–”

“you bring it outta me,” he sighs like it’s a compliment. you’re so creamy around his dick that he’s choking a little, “fuuck– now sing for me.”

just like that, his pace is brutal, patience officially snapping. snapping like his hips, skin against skin loud in your shared room. you’re so sensitive too, orgasm barely passing before he’s fucking you into the mattress. the veins on his shaft throbbing against your twitchy walls, it’s good, too good.

your moans are pitchy and broken, feeling like he might actually break you or fuck you stupid. clawing to him desperately even in your folded up position, suddenly aching to be held by him. wanting him up against you completely.

you blink at him and struggle through moans, “hold me?”

“aw, sweetie,” he coos at you, he loves how clingy you get during sex, tugs at his heart strings as well as his balls. “of course,” because he meant it when he said all you ever had to do was ask.

gojo tugs your legs so they wrap around his waist and then he leans down, pressing his chest against yours. your arms loop around his upper back and hold him close, whining a bit at how he seems to slip impossibly deeper.

he’s overwhelmed by his affection for you and kisses you deep, tongue in your mouth licking against your own. shivers go down his spine at it, moan rumbling from his chest at your cunt squeezing him a little tighter. your reaction to his kisses visceral and obvious.

it’s not that much later that he’s on the verge of cumming, strokes deep and calculated as he does his best to keep the pace he’d set. he knows you’re about ready to cum again too, pussy begging for just a little bit more.

already knowing the answer to the question he’s about to ask but asking it anyways, “where you want it, pretty?” mostly he just wants to hear you say it.

your eyes are glossy and your lips are swollen from his hot kisses, “in– hng– inside me,” you whimper.

“sure, sweetie, whatever you want,” he grins like he’s not already excitedly picturing his seed leaking from your stretched hole.

his pelvis smacking against your clit inevitably does you in again, pathetic sounds that you hardly recognise as your own flooding the room. gojo struggles to let you ride it out, honeyed pussy attempting to milk him before he’s done getting you off.

and when you look at him with bleary, tearful eyes, he’s finished. fucking himself as far into you as he can go while he stuffs you with his load. feeling it so clearly how his spend is dripping back down his shaft, cumming too much for you to take it all.

gojo slips out of you tentatively and greedily eyes your drooling hole. his insides clawing with an obscene need, a filthy need to play with your messy cunt even more.

you’re blissed out in the foggy haze of your afterglow, forgetting how much of a pervert your boyfriend truly is until you’re jolted by his mouth on your overstimulated, overstuffed pussy. his tongue lapping at his own cum, cleaning you up while also ruining you further. your hands shoot to his hair as you weakly try to tug at him.

he relents a little unwillingly, moving up your body. his thumb on your chin pulling down, indicating for you to open your mouth. you wordlessly do what he wants, tongue hanging from your mouth and he spits your mixed cum onto it.

“you’re so perfect,” he grunts before taking your lips with his, all messy and deep. the taste of your shared cum filling the kiss. it’s dirty and lewd and it has you holding him tighter and whining into his mouth.

he may be a perverted freak, but you guess you’re no better.

Boyfriend!Gojo who was wearing his part of the set already, a hand sliding under the loose t-shirt to rub a large palm across his toned abdomen, a white strip trailing downnnn and disappearing into the fuzzy fabric.

Boyfriend!Gojo who wasn't wearing any boxers underneath the blue hello kitty pants. Id say a good… z tier (hard) cock print was staring right up at you. Didn't help that a small wet splotch of precum was already making itself known.

Guess who got their dick sucked dry that night.

Boyfriend!Gojo

Boyfriend!Gojo who always held the door open for you, never letting you step out of the car without being there to give you his hand.

Boyfriend!Gojo who loved it when you clung to him in public, not being ashamed of some PDA. If you held his bicep, he made sure to flex it.

Boyfriend!Gojo who knew what you needed before you even did.

A sweet little treat with your coffee? There.

Some hair in your face or mouth you hadn't even realised was there? Fixed with a sweet caress.

After coming home from a tiring day and being pulled down on the couch and getting eaten out? Without a thought.

Boyfriend!Gojo who, speaking of eating out your cunt, was so good at it that it made his dick jealous- twitching and leaking while not being able to get inside that deliciously tight warmth his own tongue was occupying.

Boyfriend!Gojo who maybe was a bit too addicted to the taste of you after a long day.

Close to "home in three days, don't wash" level of obsessed.

Boyfriend!Gojo who gathered you up in his strong arms at any given chance, either carrying you or cuddling you like some oversized teddy bear he couldn't live without.

Boyfriend!Gojo who sent you pictures every day. No matter what you were doing that day or how many people were around.

Never a warning, never a spoiler.

A big fat dick dropped into your dms.

Shameless, i say.

But he loved making you flustered.

Yoon's notes: h..h..hey guys... a light lil hc i hope my blog doesnt get taken down for using tags lmao

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all work belongs to @yoonsucks , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!

In the third year, you forgot to submit a "visual application" and they denied you once again. By this time you were starting to think the program was a scam and that there were just some creepy men behind the whole thing—tricking monster-fucking women into submitting intimate details about themself just for the hell of it.

It's not until this year that you realize this program was very much not a scam at all.

Your final attempt at getting into it was a success, resulting in that previously mentioned email that your eyes happily skimmed over. That, and you also had two other good friends who apparently had gotten accepted into it years ago, only deciding to spill the details of their experience now that you've been accepted.

"I had a great time when I went. Whatever you're thinking it is, I hope you know it's ten times better!" Yuki claimed. Apparently, she slept with some hybrid-wolf guy?

"No because I was actually upset they didn't send that one guy to me, y'know the one on the posters with the tentacles?" Your dearest Utahime had ranted. She got stuck with some dude with more eyes than arms—six to be exact—and evidently that turned her off from the whole experience.

Not that she didn’t go back a few times afterwards, though…

"Well, at least your monster had a face. I got a tentacle man but fuck, he was kinda boring since I was looking at a blank face the whole time." Your last acquaintance hummed in response to the previous statement.

There was a lot of information to take in and yet you were bright-eyed ‘n beaming with excitement upon listening to every little detail. This program asked its recruits for so much prior to acceptance due to the various things that could go oh-so-wrong.

After all, you were required to sign a waiver that said something about being okay with these tests possibly resulting in the loss of your own life. It was scary, sure. But you weren’t exactly thinking with your head whenever S.W.A.M. was involved.

Why would you be? One look at some hot, long-haired vampire who seemed to be the face of the program along with some other dark-haired brute with a freakishly long tongue, and your cunt was leading every decision of yours.

Not to mention the fact that this program housed all sorts of different types of monsters. Many were science experiments gone wrong and some were from entirely different worlds. And now that you were accepted into it, you'd finally be able to meet and sleep with one of them!

What could possibly go wrong?

——

"...Most have said it best if you follow their lead," Dr. Nanami Kento was in the middle of droning about while he led you to your designated "room of pleasure" or whatever he called it. "Some of our specimens here can be a bit... much to deal with, and if you'd like to walk out with the best experience possible, it is always advised that you let them do their thing and simply be compliant."

The two of you had been walking some lengthy hallway for what felt like hours now. Nanami was the first person to greet you upon your entry to the facility—which very much rivaled a prison on the outside, but looked to be a mix of a hospital and a hotel within its interior—and while you swear he's been walking you in circles, he's also explained to you a long list of rules that you'll need to keep in mind before you're to meet your monster.

All experiences in S.W.A.M. are unique and different. Even if two different people have slept with or been bred by the same monster, they both leave the program with two entirely dissimilar stories. 

Along the walk to your designated room, you passed by many others that gave you glimpses of how many differing species occupied this place. There were definitely a lot that looked nowhere near human, but there were also a considerable amount that seemed to be completely human.

Which Nanami clarified for you that they were certainly not.

At some point, the two of you had reached an elevator and after swiftly stepping onto it, Nanami calmly pressed the button for the twelfth floor. During this, you took notice of how some floors had names attached to them. The sixth floor was for hybrids, the eleventh floor was for the undead, and somewhere around the fifteenth floor included spirits and fae.

You naturally found all of this to be most fascinating, but in doing so, you missed the name of the floor the two of you were heading towards.

By the time the elevator creaked its way there, Nanami had let you step out first and then proceeded to remain in place with a stoic smile stitched across his face.

You swirled around with wide eyes, "Uh-, Dr. Nanami? Are you not coming with m—"

"Good luck," was the only, and last thing the man said to you before rapidly mashing at the lobby-level button to his right.

Then the doors shut in your face.

You stared at your slanted, shimmery reflection for a long moment before sighing and turning back around to the short hallway. There were three doors; one on the left that said Simurian, another on the right that read King of Curses, and the last one set in the middle which held your name on it.

You think your eyes stretched open impossibly wider upon seeing it.

Did all people get their own room like this? What the heck is a Simurian and just who the hell is the King of Curses? Why did Dr. Nanami leave you like that?? And what did he mean by good luck???

You were only here for sexualized testing, right?

Pushing all these questions of yours aside, you paced forward slowly. 

With every step you took, you couldn't help but notice how the door to your left seemed to be nearly ten feet tall. Over on your right, that door looked to be a few inches shorter but much wider.

Who or whatever occupied either room must have been freakishly huge. The thought of which makes you shudder before you finally slip into the human-sized door set for you.

Inside the room, you were met with a massive area. Everything looked as though it were twice your size—the bed, a table you end up walking past, a... a cuck chair(?), and a bunch of other stuff you didn't quite familiarize yourself with.

What caught your attention the quickest—aside from the large chair near the bed—was a file that was laid out on the only normally sized piece of furniture in the room, a dresser.

Curiously, you swiped up said file and were quick to open it. One of the papers inside fluttered out and elsewhere as soon as you did so, but you didn't pay it any mind since the first page inside captured all of your attention rather quickly.

It was a profile for someone named Dabura Karaba.

A picture of the man-, or, alien—as you come to know within the next few seconds of reading—sits up near the top left corner of the page.

There's a shit ton of information about him plastered all throughout the rest of the paper, going on to extend towards the back of it, and even a few more pages afterwards. But you skim over the majority of that just to read the details listed about his genitals.

Gross Morphology: The phallus is retractile, measuring at approximately 7-9 cm in total length (base to tip), with a circumference of 6.5 cm at mid-shaft—when flaccid. The organ falls under the spectrum of beige in color [HEX: #c2b6a1 for reference — intermittently a hue lighter or darker dependent on lighting], with twisting veins that pulse at roughly 20 bpm—presumably reflecting circulatory activity. The hemisphere of the glans measure at about 5.7 cm in width, and secretes a viscous, petroleum-like lubricant (pH 7.5-8.0). The membrane is. . .

You think your mouth is watering by the time your eyes return to their skimming, one too many scientific words printed out across the paper for your concern.

That is, until the word erectile seems to stand out in its bold letters before you.

Erectile Dynamics: Upon arousal (typically triggered by pheromonal, faint tactile, or visual stimuli) the glans reaches hues up to HEX: #7f737c — mimicking that of a flushed state. The phallus has then been measured to broaden rapidly, extending the full, non-curved, erect length of—

Unfortunately for your curiosity, your reading is cut quite short when the loud sound of something thumping against the wall causes you to flinch and redirect your eyes elsewhere. Though, you’re pretty sure you saw double digits following those last few words you read.

When you turn, you're met with the same being you've been reading about, who's currently busy with silently cursing your tiny doorframe for hitting the left tip of one of his horns. The alien is hunched over when your eyes make contact with him, but that changes within the next coming seconds as he steps into the room and quietly shuts the door behind him—clearly unaware of your gaze being on him.

The moment his eyes—all three of them—glide your way, you flinch like an idiot and let that document drop out of your hands as if you weren't supposed to be touching it in the first place.

Dabura is a brooding-looking creature, to say the least. He's got a great deal of staggering feet to his height, easily exceeding some inches over seven feet tall. You believe you feel a short shot of pain in your neck just from the angle of which it takes to peer up at his face.

Despite being an alien, he carries a humanoid frame and possess quite the lean, but well defined, musculature. The three eyes he had slipping along your build all carry irises with an redish-orange color in them. There's a pair of long, curved horns—that you'd love to hold onto later—which extend upwards 'n outwards from the side of his head.

You're gulping down a thick sum of nerves as your gaze travels to the expanse of his body in sync with the way he was doing to you. There's a plethora of dark markings plastered all along his neck, arms, and shoulders, which form these uneven, asymmetrical patterns out across his smooth skin. That, and there's even another marking encircling that third eye of his.

Which you note hasn't moved from your face from the moment he noticed you despite his other pair having carried right along...

Your ogling comes to an end just as you're admiring his elongated earlobes from where you are, catching how they run down to his abdomen and are adorned with more piercings than you can count.

"I presume you're the human I am to mate with?" His voice sends a cold chill straight down your spine. Not because it was scary or anything, but simply due to the fact that no human could ever possess such a soothingly deep baritone to their words in the way he does.

You gulp loudly enough for him to hear and the sound makes his head tip over just an inch as if curiosity has struck him. "Y-Yes," The first stutter out of your mouth already makes you want to find the nearest window and ju-, "That would be me, yes. Which means you must be..." You halfway saved yourself of embarrassment until you realized you'd dropped that file with all his information and somehow managed to forget his name already.

Shit, this whole thing is going poorly already and neither of you have even taken your clothes off!

Scrambling to the papers that fell earlier, you hurry to swipe some of them up in search for a name and don't even notice the way he stalks over to assist you until a large hand comes into view just above yours. Then you lift your chin up and the alien is crouched right in front of you while looking down.

Up close, you realize just how intimidating he really is. It was bad before when he was a few steps away from you but now that he's up close, you think you can feel your heart beat pounding against your ears as if to give you an audio representation of your climbing anxiety.

You'd spent four years trying to get into this program and now you finally had a monster (technically alien) in front of you but the only thing you could feel was fear instead of excitement. What a bummer—

"Dabura," The alien murmurs in a contrastingly gentle tone, bass consuming all bits of space in between the two of you and weirdly settling down that anxiousness of yours to replace it with something much warmer. Then all his eyes flick up to meet with yours again and his demeanor is strictly calming as he hums, "There's no need for papers to tell you my name when I am right in front of you."

You blink, letting the word, "Right," tumble out of your mouth all softly. Snapping out of your flustered stupor, you look upwards and notice the faintest scuff on his left horn—which reminds you of the noise you heard when he first came in. Then you redirect your hand to reach up towards it, "Did you hit your horn on the way in?"

"I did,” Dabura cuts off your traveling hand by grabbing onto your wrist and holding it a few inches away from their destination.

"Are they sensitive to touch?" You ask harmlessly, batting your lashes at the creature.

His expression falls impossibly duller, eyelids lowering as an unamused frown takes over his lips, "Every human asks me this, no."

You immediately raise a brow as if unconvinced, "If that's true then,” He sees the way your fingers wiggle before you go to move your other hand, “May I-"

His free hand shoots over to grasp at your other one as his eyes widen slightly. Grumbling, "No." with more firmness to it in hopes you’ll stop with your attempts at feeling on his horns.

Then you pop a pout, "You're no funnnn.”

The alien stares at you for a long moment, taking you all in just as you’d done earlier. You’re far prettier than any other human he’d been sent so far, and he feels his heart doing something weird each time you make a surprising advance to touch him.

But even so, he’s not about to let you get into something you clearly don’t quite understand yet. "Unless you should like to begin mating now," Dabura explains lowly, steadily moving your hands down and towards your lap, "No, you cannot touch them."

A smug smile breaks out onto your face and it makes his brows twitch. He watches as you quickly break out of that momentarily timid shell, "Oh, so they are sensitive!" you exclaim.

"They are not, they just-,” He cuts himself off and shuts his eyes, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he exhales strongly, “Human."

Your eyes roll, "I have a name too, y’know-"

"Do you wish to be bred against every available surface in this room?" Dabura interrupts, hoping to catch you off guard just as his initial appearance did.

Unfortunately for him, he’s in the presence of the world’s most eager human.

"Do you want my honest answer to that?" You ask with an unfairly cute grin on your face.

"I-,” He chokes whilst returning his eyes to you, “Pardon?" You act like you didn’t say anything unordinary and blink innocently. In which he’s left to let his shoulders slump a bit and begrudgingly say, "I am curious, yes. Answer me honestly."

That’s when you place your hands on the floor and lean closer to him rather cat-like, causing him to lean back out of shock and nearly fall completely on his ass despite being almost twice your size. "I would love if you fucked me against every surface,” You tell him with this little sparkle noticeable in your eyes.

In the time Dabura has been apart of the program, he can’t say he’s ever encountered a human quite as… enthusiastic as you. Plus, your sentence came out far more vulgar than his had—something he takes note of.

Which is exactly why his next words leaves him slowly, tone etched with concern, "...You appeared frightened by me just mere minutes ago."

"Yes,” You agree before looking down at the way he’s managed to lean back enough to nearly be positioned under you, “And now I'm aroused—in some places this is could even be called scarousal."

Dabura feels like you’re more of the foreign creature in the room as opposed to himself by this point. Letting his brows scrunch up, "I don't believe that's a word-"

"You're an alien, you only know so much,” You hush out in this purring tone that catches him off guard. Then you lift one of your hands and move to tap your index against one of his many, many abs.

His breath hitches and his lips twitch—threatening to smile from the experience of being teased by you.

Dabura’s got two eyes focused on the soft taps of your finger and the remaining one fixated on your face as he utters, "I like you, human."

"Thank you, alien.” You reply, sliding your finger over and tracing a few of his abs just to smile at the way he flinches under your touch. God, for a creature much larger than you and all intimidating, he sure was sensitive to the smallest of things. “I think I like you t-"

"May I taste you?" Dabura requests, throwing your entire focus off the rails.

"What?" You choke as an immediate throb feels out for your attention from in between your legs. Then you remember that he’s still a different species, and find yourself instinctively pulling away cautiously, "You mean like, sexually, right…?”

He snorts and your heart skips a beat at the realization he finds you most amusing when you’re confused. "Unless you have a preference for being devoured in a literal sense,” Dabura reaches for your wrist once more and pulls you closer, letting your palm meet his abdomen as he husks out a careful, “Yes."

"O-Oh. I mean, if that’s the case then of course." You agree with that same twinkle from earlier returning into your irises. Though, Dabura doesn’t miss the way your expressions vocalize your thoughts before your mouth does, "Wait, Dr. Nanami mentioned something about this testing being primarily for breeding.” You recall, moving away from the alien to stand up. “Eating me out will won’t really have anything to do with-"

"It will help." He insists as he too shifts around to bring himself up onto his feet. Then he gives you this look that has your thighs drawing nearer to one another, "And I'm sure that doctor of yours also mentioned how you are to listen to me."

You can’t exactly refute that, "Well-, wait, how do you know that?!"

Rolling his eyes only once as if he’d grown tired of this useless back and forth, Dabura presses forward and tutts, "You worry yourself with the wrong things."

After which, and before you have a moment to debate with him even further, he’s bent down to swoop you up ‘n over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing! One arm is tightly set around your thighs and the other comes over to place a hand against the curve of your ass to support you.

You feel all warm again as you realize how high up in the air he has you, considering how tall the alien stands. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off within the next few seconds by your body flopping down onto the bed carelessly, a soft oof lofting out of your mouth instead. You then shoot your inquisitive gaze upwards again and open your mouth to question him further, but find yourself rather speechless from the angle of which he now stands.

It was one thing to see him from afar, another to see him practically beneath you, but above you? Fuck, you couldn’t even help the way your thighs clamped shut—arousal daring to damp itself at your core.

Dabura is looking down at you for a quiet moment before drawing a hand up to his chin in thought and muttering, “Perhaps I should have tossed you the other way…” 

You know you’re supposed to be following his lead but it’s a bit difficult to do that when all he’s said is that he wanted to taste you, “Huh? What are you-“

“Flip over,” He orders flatly, barely adding on, “Please,” after noticing the way you’d begun to glare at him. 

You’re slow to do exactly that, and feel awkward in your every move—being watched so closely by some alien you’ve hardly gotten to know wasn’t exactly what you were expecting from this whole thing. You don’t know why, but you thought this process would be a lot more-

“I’m going to undress you now,” Dabura warns, his hands having met with the fabric at your hips.

You freeze before regaining your thoughts and then glancing back at him from over your shoulder, “I really don’t think this part is necessary for the-“

He interrupts you with an unintentionally rude sigh—as if your extra communication is the problem here and not his lack thereof—and moves his hand to the center of your back before applying pressure. The weight from his palm forces your upper half down against the mattress. Your face smushes right into the sheets and you let out a frustrated grumble in response to his curtness. 

Then you could almost hear the smile in his words as he asks, “Is this the best you can arch?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice is muffled but he could make out what you were saying quite clearly.

Grinning to himself, “Your arch,” He repeats, biting back a snort, “Is this as good as it gets?”

You couldn’t tell if he was taunting you like this on purpose just to get a rise out of you or if he was being sincere but either way it was starting to annoy you. So much so that you lift your head a little and scoff, “How about I arch my foot into your a-ah! Hey,” Unfortunately, your words whisk out into a breathy sound rivaling a moan.

Dabura had deduced that right then, in the middle of your complaints, it’d be best to swipe his thumb against your crotch—bringing friction to your cunt through the few layers of fabric.

“For a human so intuitive, and uncooperative, you are quite wet.” He points out—making you furrow your brows as you wonder how the hell he figured that out from only one little touch. It’s not like you were leaking through your-, “What caused this, I wonder.”

With a bratty frown on your face, you pull your hips away from him slightly—not to reject his touches but simply to torture his desire to do so, “Not you, asshole.”

“Mmh.” Dabura is fully amused now. He’d never encountered a human quite like you. “Seems I forgot to add liar into that list,” He says playfully.

You gasp, “Excuse me-“

Your pants getting tugged down swiftly enough to cut your words off again, cool air slapping against your naked skin rather quickly.

“My, my…” Dabura gawks lightly. “You know, I’ve never tasted human pussy before.”

“Eh?” Your head pops up from the sheets and you look back over your shoulder, “You mean you’ve never given oral before?”

Almost sheepishly and in a stiffened manner, the alien shakes his head. “Many denied me from doing so, but you… You seemed so excited to mate with me, I only assumed you’d enjoy this just as much as I would.”

“Well-“

“And considering how…” The thick of his thumb presses in between your folds, rubbing against the fabric of your panties sluggishly, “…wet you are,” Then Dabura releases a parched sigh. “Why, it’d be improper of me not to get a taste. This entire program is based on sexualized testing, yes? Perhaps your cunt will take my seed best after being thoroughly licked.”

Talk about giving you fancy excuses just to eat you out…

You suppose you couldn’t blame him for wanting to plaster his tongue in your juices—after all, he did just say no other human allowed him to do so. Now, that does make you curious since Nanami specifically informed you to listen to your monster’s whims.

Perhaps he’d only done so based on this one’s past experiences? And that ‘good luck’ he gave you… what was that all about?

——

None of these questions of yours get answered anytime soon but they’re forgotten rather quickly with the way Dabura’s tongue had so feverishly met your twitching folds from beyond the layer of cotton that lay in the way.

You suppose he didn’t care much to move them aside just yet, as he seemed to enjoy toying with the material and liked the way you squirmed whenever he sucked it into his mouth—the raw feel of his plush lips grazing your bare cunt.

Even his decision to eat you out from the back left you curious. Hell, everything this damn alien did had you doused in concern. But of course, he hadn’t spared you a moment to dwell on any of them.

Especially not with those distracting grunts he let out by the time he finally peeled your panties down your clammy legs—hands gripped tightly onto your thighs to keep you spread open at the perfect angle for his tongue to lap inward.

“Mmmgh, yesyes,” Dabura groans, “Such a-, mmh, tasty lil’ thing.” His words slathered in between your pussy lips at varying angles, adding to each flicking movement of his tongue. 

“Dabura,” You moan just as his mouth plucks away for a split second long enough for his teeth to bare. Then angles down just to nibble at your inner thigh for no direct reason other than wanting to feel you squirm against his hands. “I-I still don’t think you’re supposed to-, ngh!”

Again, you’re cut off by his actions—his mouth having returned to your poor, leaky entrance to swab over with his tongue. Then his hands pried your legs further open in an attempt at feeling your labia peel apart even more, tongue hot ‘n aching for more and more of your slick. You’re unsure of what exactly would satiate the alien’s thirst for you when he was already thrusting the majority of his oral muscle in between your walls.

Humans didn’t eat pussy like this, naturally. Not only was there a foreign movement to the way he fucked his tongue into you but the added factor of Dabura being clueless with his every move had you dazed. You wanted to tease him for the way he’d waddle his tongue around your clit for a second too short but he always seemed to make up for it by wiggling it deeeep into your pussy directly after.

It was almost like he wanted to smear your own taste around.

“What was that?” Dabura eventually mumbled against your sappy folds, letting you gush against his lips as he spoke, “I couldn’t hear you over my talkative girl down here.”

Your legs twitch as if to close but it’s to no avail. All while your voice has pitched off into whine after whine, “Y-Your?”

The alien pulled his mouth off of you after one more suctioning pop! and then sported yet another tiny grin, “Whilst you’re in this room, yes.” A fat glop of spit spanked out across your hole next and he moves his thumb to fuck his salive inward, “Mine.”

“O-Oh.” Your jaw flails open some and you feel yourself drooling from the instant he starts feeding his thumb to your cunt. It’s only one finger but fuck, nothing could quite compare to it.

Dabura tipped his head aside as he twirled his thumb around your insides, “You seemed to like that,” He pointed out hotly, breaths fanning into your skin, “Being called mine.“

Your hips did that thing they did earlier when you attempted to flee from the pleasure he’d provided for you, “I do, but-, hahh.. none of this is important for the-“

“Oh hushhh, woman,” Dabura drawls out, fully bored of hearing you remind him about how eating you out has nothing to do with breeding you. “…Allow me to have this in peace, won’t you?” He pulls his thumb out of your cunt and spits once again before tapping at the saliva—mimicking a spanking motion against your hole.

After that, you give up on your arguments. Partially because Dabura decides to replace his thumb with two stretching fingers, and also because he seems to realize he can stimulate you rather greatly with only one hand—digits lodged neatly into your entrance while his thumb runs across your glossy clit.

Of which he’s taken quite the liking to. One could even say he grows fond of the gorgeous bundle of nerves, drawing all sorts of shapes around it and loving the feel of it jumping whenever his other fingers curl into that spot against your inner walls you adore so much.

You’re brought to not one, not two, and most certainly more than three orgasms from his fingers alone. And which each one, you try—you really, really do—to remind him of what you’re here for, but he ignores you each time.

Eventually Dabura finds himself in this drunken state, having his slicked fingers biting into your skin while he devours your cunt sluggishly with his whorish mouth.

Moaning, “S’good,” as his tongue tickles in somewhere deeper than it had previously—almost as if the damn thing were growing! “So sloppy, fuuuck,” The last curse exits his throat in a whine and by this point his hips have been eagerly bucking against the massive bed. “I love the way your pussy feels on my tongue,” He babbles, grinding his hard cock down against the mattress—rocking the entirety of the furniture in the process. 

Now, even though you’ve been occupied with having your cunt licked to utter numbness, you couldn’t ignore how needy Dabura’s other appendages seemed to be for you.

You knew the moment he got hard based on how much he adjusted himself against the bed. It was like the erection he carried in between those loose fabrics of his was a hindrance to him—oozing in precum excessively from the plump head and aching to dive in between the same lips he’d been lapping at.

His tongue is kissing at your clit right when he’s about to cum from doing so, but his orgasm is cut embarrassingly short by the way your room door flings open.

The poor door slams into the wall and Dabura lets out a very adorable yelp of surprise in between your legs.

So much for that intimidating aura of his, huh…

Even so, the sound he lets out, along with his flinching are both disregarded as he focuses back on the task at hand. He’s a little lazier with his feasting since he realizes the two of you have some company now but, again, this doesn’t stop him.

“You greedy fucking alien,” A new voice hoots out deeply, shucking the door away from the wall it slammed into just to shut it properly.

“Mmmnh, Sukuna, you ah-,” Dabura pauses his words to the newly entered monster just to sluuuurp! you right up one more time. A wet, sloppy smile spilt out across his lips, “You must come taste this. It’s like-“

“I know what good pussy tastes like, no need to explain it to me.” Sukuna cuts off, stomping his way into the room with his four eyes all fixated onto you. Pink brows furrowing, “I was a human prior to becoming this,” He adds on with a wave of his hand in Dabura’s direction, “Now move over.”

“…A bossy one, I bet.” The alien breathes out sassily, not paying the man any mind whatsoever and instead playing with the lips of your cunt by pulling them apart and then letting them fall back naturally after lifting his thumb away.

Ignoring his snarky remark, Sukuna ends up shoving poor Dabura out the way and letting his lower set of hands meet the purchase of your hips. One of his upper palms comes down to smack across your ass, making you flinch away from your previously dumbed-out state.

You lift your head and glance back, eyes met with a new creature that causes your jaw to fall open all stupidly. “A-And you are?”

Sukuna seems immediately ticked off by your lack of awareness, shooting a look over to Dabura and ignoring your question entirely. “What have you been up to with our toy so far?”

Toy? Surely he wasn’t talking about you…

“I’ve only licked her a few times,” Dabura claims—knowing all too well that few is beyond an understatement.

Sukuna seems pleased to hear that regaurdless. Sporting a haughty smile, “Have you?” He purrs before gripping onto the fat of your ass and pulling your cheeks apart to steal a glance at how swollen your folds are now, “Mh. That explains why she’s so puffy down here.”

Your face is still resting against the bedsheet but that doesn’t hinder you from mumbling, “M’not puffy…”

“Cute,” Sukuna comments shortly as he speaks as though you weren’t in the room with him. “She’s fucked-out already.”

“M’not,” You huff a bit louder this time, angling your rather wobbly arms to push yourself up on all fours.

You crane your head to get a full look at him, blinking past the blur of pleasurable tears that have built up along your lashline to take all of him in. Now, Sukuna was quite the sight for sore eyes.

While he was a bit shorter than Dabura in height, he surely made up for it in just about everything else. He had dark markings splayed out across his skin just as the alien did—but there was a clear difference in them. He also carried four eyes instead of the three you’d only just grown used to, all of which were red in hue and ever-so-glaring when met with yours.

There was a smirk on his face that never seemed to leave, stretching his pinkened lips out as if every fiber of his being were better-, or greater than you in every way imaginable. You wouldn’t call it smugness per-se, but there was something rather gloating about the way he carried himself. 

You could only see so much of him with the way he was positioned behind you, having taken Dabura’s place entirely and left the alien to lay on the bed somewhere to your left. Even so, you did notice that Sukuna had two of everything except legs.

He had a bulky stature, muscles bulged and stretched out across his limbs. Your eyes felt as though they had little hearts in them upon meeting the mouth stretching across his stomach. It should’ve been grotesque to look at considering the way it moved all freakishly and almost carnally.

The massive tongue would lull out to lather across his lips and you’d get a hint of sharp teeth within your view each time he did so.

Up until that same tongue extended to swipe across just about everything in between your legs. “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind this,” He’d said in response to your almost forgotten words.

Then you felt the slippery wetness draaag against the backs of your thighs, your jittery-spread pussylips, and even your ass with the way Sukuna took one greedy lick. 

Your eyes bulged out all wide in reaction. The sight of which encouraged him to watch the way your expression contorted up as he focused the rounding tip of his stomach-tongue onto your cunt, bucking in dankly against it.

“Hnngh-, fuck.” You moaned before pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth and letting your back arch again, “W-What is your guys’ obsession with-, ohgod..”

The sweet sound of your voice was drowned out in your own pleasure as Sukuna’s tongue performed the same dances Dabura’s lengthy one had done just a moment ago.

“Poor thing,” Sukuna mocked, pouting at you to mirror the one sewn into your lips, “That dumb alien hasn’t given you any cock yet, has he?”

Your torso ended up falling once again as your hands went grabbing and tugging at the sheets to brace yourself for the full, greedy feel of his tongue. Then you shook your head in response and whimpered something along the lines of no.

Sukuna shot Dabura a look immediately. “Waited for me, didn’t you?” He taunted.

The alien no longer seemed amused and reciprocated Sukuna’s looks with a flat, irritated expression, “No.”

The pink-haired man rolled his eyes. “Mh. No matter, I see why you were occupied here for so long.” His attention returned to you and he found it most pleasing to watch you try to scurry further up the bed in an attempt at escaping that blinding pleasure his dewy tongue was gifting you with. “She is rather tasty.”

Even as you arched and moaned all over the place, you still managed to return to your focus of why you were here in the first place. There was no way you were about to let these two monsters make a pocket pussy out of you and only use their tongues with you!

“Can you just-, mmmph!” It’s quick that you learn Sukuna has even less of a patience than Dabura as one of his many, massive hands come to the back of your skull and push your face into the sheets.

He’s peering down at the way you wiggle your body in response, feeling pleasure begin to overstimulate your every nerve as his tongue invades every spongy spot of yours. “Has she been demanding all this time?” Sukuna asks the alien who seems quite bored now.

Dabura raises his eyebrows, surprised that Sukuna is acknowledging him again, “Yes, I believe she’d like to be bred.” He states, pointing out the obvious.

“Awh, too bad these tests are hardly for a human’s curiosity and primarily for our enjoyment.” The pink-haired man exhales—jerking his tongue back ‘n forth and backkk ‘n forthhh against the entirety of your soddened pussy, clinging to your clit and schlepping it around with his every move.

“Sukuna,” Dabura blinks, his eyes stuck on the motion of the man’s insistent tongue. He almost feels like his own was inadequate in comparison. “I do not believe you’re supposed to-“

Another cry is heard from you and the two are quickly distracted by the way your nails are beginning to tear at the bedsheets. Ah, Sukuna only then realizes that his tongue might just be too much for you after however long Dabura had his own on you.

Leading him to feel bad for you and gesture your way whilst directing his words to the alien at your left, “Hush her up, will you?”

Dabura frowns for the nth time. He didn’t much care to be ordered around by Sukuna like this.

…But that didn’t stop him from listening to each order he was given.

Which is how he ends up with his mouth against yours while Sukuna satisfies his incessant taste for you. 

——

That continued on for… heavens know how long. 

All three of you lose track and the only thing you can recall is the mixed feel of Dabura swallowing up your moans and Sukuna using his stomach mouth to play with your pussy like some toy.

It’s like you were the test subject in the room—not them. They both treated your body as if they’d never felt a human before or something. Which was weird considering the two of them have had their fair share of these tests before.

While Dabura was kissing you, his hands twitched with a need for exploration, soon traveling your body and fondling with your soft breasts. Every part of your body was left either marked or swollen from their many touches or bites.

And you don’t even remember how or when but you believe you were positioned on top of Dabura while Sukuna remained where he was behind you at some point. Because of this tangled position, Dabura was able to wrap his arms around you and keep you perfectly in place as Sukuna rubbed one—of his two—cocks in between the valley of your ass.

Within this position, the alien was beneath you with his own lengthy dick freed from the restricting fabrics of earlier—tugging at his shaft whilst feeling you squirm against him and whimper into his mouth.

That went on until both creatures had painted your stomach and your spine with their seed.

But, that wasn’t even where things really began.

No, no, things started—in your mind—when they let your body roll over from in between theirs and you were left to watch with dazed eyes as Sukuna grabbed at Dabura’s face and tugged him up. Then, erect cocks freed and tapping against one another upon all the movement, the two had exchanged one slow kiss in the name of “sharing your taste”.

You didn’t know what to make of it, really. 

Was it hot? Well, duh. But for the most part you were wondering if this is what both of them had wanted the entire time.

Were you just some ploy in this little game of theirs? Is this what Dr. Nanami had meant when he told you good luck?? Or—

The loud, prominently wet sound of their lips detaching from one another catches your ears as it rings throughout the entire room. When you look at their faces, you note how softened Dabura’s features seem to be. His eyes seem utterly desperate to please as they veer upwards to meet Sukuna’s hardened expression based on the angle of which the two were.

Then Sukuna lifts a hand to wipe away drool from the corner of Dabura’s lips, cracking yet another smirk before looking over to you. “You’ve got my poor alien whipped, human. I’m impressed.”

You stare dumbfoundedly, “Huh?”

Sukuna snorts, “Can’t you see it?” Gripping at Dabura’s chin, he turns his face over for you to look at. “There’s nothing in this head of his aside from you. You should be proud of yourself.”

You chew on your bottom lip again out of fear of saying the wrong thing in response, moving your gaze onto Dabura who is in fact just as whipped as Sukuna described him to be—eyes glazed over with lust and barely wiped away drool staining the side of his mouth.

When you and the alien make eye contact, his pupils seem to dilate and his cock is twitching all over again. He hadn’t the words to describe it, but from the very moment he saw you standing in this room, he was left entranced by you.

Chuckling, Sukuna releases Dabura from his grasp and then pulls away. “I suppose it’s time we give you what you want, yes?”

Now your eyes were lighting up, “Please?”

“Manners, how cute.” Sukuna hums before running a hand through his hair with one hand and motioning for you to follow him with another. “Come, let me place you in the most effective position."

Within the next few minutes, you’re hauled up into a pair of the man’s sizable arms, legs straggled out within his hold as your pussy is left to drip ‘n spill slick out all over the floor. You were a mess but the two monsters accompanying you weren’t fairing any better.

Dabura’s still sat on the bed in a foggy state of arousal, the plummy head of his cock waving in the air as it globed with honeyed plashets of cum. He was sitting there in his own disorder, unable to move until he made eye contact with your unfairly pretty pussy again.

The sheeny gloss from your arousal webbed out ever so beautifully against your lips, hole pulsing softly as it begged to be filled properly. Tongues wouldn’t satisfy you anymore, that much was clear.

Sukuna’s peering over your shoulder as he holds you up like some trophy, “Don’t tell me you’re too pussydrunk to move, alien.” He chastises, “Come breed her with me before she runs out of stamina on us.”

Dabura snaps out of his momentary torpor and staggers up on his feet, quickly looming over the two of you in the next coming seconds. Then he brings a finger to your chin to tip your face further up and his voice is a small whisper, “Tell me something first…”

You bat your damp lashes at him in that same probing manner he’d grown to admire, the sight of which makes his heart feel weird again.

“How exactly did you prepare for this? I’m curious,” He asks.

You’re still hardly lucid so, your voice is at some cockdrunken pitch as words slide out of your throat, “I rode a uh-, t-thirteen inch dildo a couple times,” You explain, giggling in thought shortly after. “Took a while to get used to…”

Sukuna nuzzles into the crook of your neck like a big cat, “And you believe that has properly prepared you for three cocks? Fuck, you’re dumber than I thought—I like that.”

You grumble something short of a curse at him but the sound only makes him smile against your skin. Then Dabura is finally closing the distance between all of you and you feel his tip sloping up against your sex.

Few words are exchanged in the next few moments as the two decide it’s time to finally stuff you full.

The first dick that slides into you is one of Sukuna’s—the lower one—which is absurdly thick as it slots into your gushy hole. Following this is Dabura’s eager cock, which has throbby veins bumping against every crevice of your insides.

By this point you’re being streeeetched all the way the fuck out and think it damn near impossible to fit all three lengths inside you at the same time. One alone was more than enough to have your eyes crossing but two and eventually three?

Oh, you didn’t think you’d be able to feel your legs come next morning.

Though this was of very little concern to you. You came into this program to be bred by monsters and that’s exactly what you were determined to do—no matter how much your poor hole would have to be stretched open in the process.

And it didn’t help that all three cocks just kept bulging and twitching inside you, smooching over one another as they explored the inner depths of your sweet cunt. Something short of a cockdrunk smile was painted across your lips but you couldn’t really feel it.

The only thing you could feel were the three fat dicks wadding their way into you—along with the hot breaths all over both sides of your neck. Then came the gobbets of cum that filled your insides to the brim. So much so that it’d spilt out of your puffed labia and sogged onto the floor beneath the three of you.

They didn’t stop there though.

No, no, your monsters were just as determined as you were so they kept on with their uneven thrusts—Sukuna bucking forward each time Dabura sleethed his hips back, all whilst bouncing you up and down like a true fucktoy.

No other experience could quite compare to how used this one left you feeling, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Their mixed seeds schliiiicked ‘n sloshed around your gummy walls, sure to take after this prolonged session of feral fucking with the excuse of sexualized testing to mask it.

It’s not until you hear Sukuna and Dabura exchanging hushed words that you finally get an answer to at least one of your many questions.

“And if-, shit.. if that doesn’t work…” Sukuna’s steady humming towards the alien, “Dabura..”

“Yes?”

“I shall have to breed you next.”

A loong, awkward silence stretches on uncomfortably before he chokes in response. Batting his lashes, “What.”

perm general tags (1/2):

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@withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt

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you lift your head from your knees and make eye contact with your husband who looks rather . . . upset. somehow more upset than you are at the moment.

you whimper as his big and intimidating stature dwarfs over yours while you’re stuck in the corner. when you look up at him, you cry even louder. seeing that familiar face after two whole days of suffering in this place alone gets you even more emotional.

after sukuna entered the room, his gaze had immediately fell upon your quivering figure.

he raises an eyebrow as you cry louder once you spot him, the sound breaking his ear drums. he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“enough with the tears,” sukuna grumbles as he crosses the room in a few long strides. his presence is both imposing and protective as he looms over your small figure.

his eyes flicker over your body—taking in the sight of your round belly. he can’t deny that the view makes his shoulders relax, relieved to see his wife do well after two days.

sukuna kneels down before you, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tears running down your cheeks. who knows how long you’ve been sobbing? the realisation that no one’s checked on you while you’ve been crying like this irks him.

the king of curses will make sure that every single servant—and especially the ones assigned to you—pay for not noticing your sour mood sooner.

“damn it, woman,” he curses under his breath, his words laden with both irritation and a sense of concern, “what’s gotten into you now, hmm? why the blubbering mess?"

you hiccup, gasping for air as sukuna kneels down to your level, something he rarely does. one of his hands reach out to wipe a tear from your cheek, his expression stoic and unreadable while he does so.

“welcome home,” you utter, remembering to greet him properly.

you wipe your own tears away and try to explain the situation without it sounding absurd. “i—i went down to the kitchen to get som-something,” you stammer, trying to spit it out before sukuna’s irritation spikes.

“but they didn’t have the food i craved. they’re out of mangoes,” your wailing starts again just at the mention of the fruit. it felt like the most devastating moment in your life when the maids told you that they were out of mangoes.

sukuna’s annoyance quickly dissolves upon hearing your explanation. the revelation that you’re crying over mangoes seems so unbelievable, so absurd, that he can’t help but let out a dry huff of laughter. an amused smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

he brushes the remnants of the tears away from your face. his rough fingers pause at your chin, giving it a light tap. “mangoes, huh? y’re out here bawling y’r fucking eyes out like a baby for some damn mangoes?”

despite his tough exterior, sukuna knows that pregnancy hormones often amplify emotions, making even the smallest things a cause for crying. and right now, you’re stressing and sputtering over some mangoes.

“mangoes,” you nod and cry softly, watching as sukuna rubs your cheeks with his manly fingers, enjoying his rough touch.

you guess by just the increased toughness of his calluses that your husband has worked hard while he was gone.

though, mangoes are your current craving and not having them meant war to you. it’s all you can focus on—even if your beloved is right in front of you.

“i need them,” you whine and pout again. your hormones make it difficult for you to calm down.

you do, however, try your best to stop crying. you clean your face with the sleeve of your kimono and bite on your bottom lip to refrain from bawling your eyes out.

“i want my mangoes,” your voice is hoarse as you glance up at sukuna, “please?”

sukuna hates to admit it, but his expression softens upon hearing the hoarse tone of your pleading voice. the view of your tear-streaked face and the knowledge that you’re experiencing pregnancy cravings makes it difficult for him to maintain his usual firm demeanor.

the king of curses sighs, his annoyance replaced by a reluctant acceptance of your plight.

“tsk, damn it,” he mutters, lazily resting his head against the palm of one of his hands, “y’re really gonna make me fetch you some mangoes?”

here you are, a grown woman crying and begging like a kid for a sweet, juicy mango. he’s seen you in many states—happy, sad, tired, excited—but never quite as emotionally overwhelmed just for a piece of fruit.

sukuna’s large hand reaches out to pat your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, a rare display of his softer side.

you pout at him and lean into his touch. you come up with something witty to say, as you always do.

“well, yes, you’re the one who got me pregnant,” you comment in a teasing way, sticking your tongue out at your husband.

no matter what sour mood you’re in, you can still be sassy.

though it doesn’t last long before your bottom lip trembles again. “i can’t do anything about it. the baby craves mangos,” you sniff as you rub your baby bump to emphasise your desire.

sukuna’s smirk wides at your retort and the playful gesture. even in your distraught state, you had the audacity to sass him. cheeky little woman, he thinks.

your husband scoffs, his large hand roughly ruffling your hair again before pulling away.

“‘n i don’t regret a thing. even if i gotta put up with y’r cranky ass.”

you roll your eyes at sukuna’s reply. you know you’re an emotional mess, but you can’t care less. you’d dl anything for your mangoes—those juicy ones that you can eat a dozen of in one sitting.

“the maids said that the mangoes were out of stock in the towns ‘nd villages nearby,” you continue while you carefully stand up from the corner. you’re trying your best to stay rational.

you’re extremely hungry and haven’t eaten ever since breakfast. that’s how stubborn you are being.

“but i’m hungryyyyy. want my mangoes,” you sigh and nearly stomp your feet out of frustration.

“yeah, yeah—fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans, watching you slowly stand up, your pregnant belly protruding like a perfect sphere. it’s a constant reminder of the effect he has on you and it makes him proud.

he helps you stand up by holding onto your arm, sharp eyes focused on your body to make sure you don’t strain a single muscle.

after you manage to stand up straight, you walk with sukuna to the kitchen to find something to eat—perhaps some other fruit will satisfy your cravings for now.

sukuna follows behind you, his steps long and leisurely while your shorter strides keep the pace with him. as the two of you walk towards the kitchen, he continues to listen to your repeated mantra.

it’s driving him insane.

“mangoes, mangoes, mangoes. i fuckin’ get it, brat,” the king of curses swears he can feel the vein in his forehead throb.

you’re lucky that he ‘tolerates’ you as his wife.

it’s something more than just ‘tolerating’ you, of course, but openly admitting to loving you, even in the slightest, is something sukuna would never do.

if someone would ask him why he goes the extra mile for you, his answer would be that it’s simply because you’re carrying his heir. however only he knows the full truth, the sappy secret he’ll forever keep to himself.

before you arrive at the kitchen, you bump into uraume.

they glance from sukuna to you and bow. “good day,” they greet you with as much respect as they do to sukuna. they’ve been doing so ever since you gained your title as his wife.

the king of curses folds all four of his arms over his chest. his lower pair of eyes are still focused on your impatient self, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. he just knows you’re holding yourself back from asking for your craving again.

sukuna clicks his tongue and nods his head at you while he speaks to uraume.

“keep an eye on her while ‘m gone. feed her what she wants,” he says in his deep voice, his tone commanding and firm.

uraume remains quiet for a second. sukuna had recently came back from a mission and is once again heading out for some ambiguous reason, but they know better than to question their master.

“where are you going, hubby?”

you of course, get a free pass.

you don’t hesitate at all before questioning your husband. sukuna scoffs when he hears your voice ask him such in an oblivious manner. you should known where he is departing to.

“where’d you think, smartass?” he pinches your nose, causing you to swat his fingers away out of instinct. he gives up on your nose and moves to squeeze your cheeks together in a gentle yet firm manner.

you huff at his antics. sukuna grins at your frown and pout before releasing your jawline with a faint push.

“you better hold on ‘til i come back with y’r stupid mangoes,” he scoffs while turning around to walk to the entrance, “and when i do, i don’t wanna hear ‘nother squeak, understood?”

sukuna seems to have made another mission for himself; find his heavily pregnant wife mangoes before she goes absolutely insane.

your face lights up and you nod repeatedly. your heart melts when you realise that he’s actually putting effort to satisfy your needs. he may be harsh and stern at times, but his actions speak louder than his words.

“okay! love you, ryo!” you call out to your husband as he disappears behind the gates.

as expected, your words are met by silence.

that’s fine with you. not hearing an ‘i love you’ back doesn’t hurt you as much as it did at the start of your relationship.

you know sukuna cherishes you in his own special way. if he didn’t, you’d be dead long time ago. on top of that, he would not go out on a hunt for mangoes right after coming back home if he didn’t like you.

and that’s all that matters.

Now, for the third time this week, Hiromi felt your hands nudge his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. “Romi,” your voice was soft, almost inaudible through the thick night. Almost. “Romi, baby…”

He let out a tired groan, shifting slightly in his half-conscious state. “Can you run to the store to buy some honey? We ran out and I really want to have some with grapes.” He made another sleepy grumble, cracking an eye open to peer at the digital clock on the side table.

4:07AM.

A long groan left his lips, arm flopping dramatically over his face in an attempt to hide from your pleading eyes even in the dark. “Honey,” his voice came out hoarse, coated in exhaustion, “I’m tired.”

The second those words left his mouth Hiromi knew he fucked up.

Silence engulfed the room for what felt like an eternity, he swiftly sat up, searching the dark room for your face. As his eyes adjusted he found your own, wide and glassy with tears that threatened to spill.

“Oh…” You whispered, lips quivering as you held back your tears.

Hiromi felt his heart drop to his ass. “N-No, no, don't —” but he was too late. “You don't have to go,” your voice wavered as you turned away from him and settled under the covers again. “Im sorry, I’m being annoying.”

He felt his stomach clench at your words, “Honey —”

“I didn't mean to disturb you...” you trailed off, curling inwards underneath the blanket.

Then he heard it, the sound that every husband fears.

Your sniffling.

His eyes widened, fear taking over every nerve as his hands searched for yours amid the pillows and covers. “Hey, why are you crying?” You sniffled again, trying to wriggle away as he approached you.

You hiccuped, “You hate me.” Hiromi sighed, moving closer so he could wrap his arms around you, “I absolutely do not hate you.”

“But you sounded mad.”

He chucked at your words, one hand coming up to brush against your cheek, “I sounded asleep.”

You let out a small giggle at his words, wiping your eyes. “You know, Romi, pregnancy cravings are scientifically proven to be emotionally distressing.” He smiled at you, nose brushing against your temple, “Did you finally read all those articles I've been sending you?”

“Maybe…” you murmured before nuzzling closer into his chest. Hiromi leaned over, lips brushing your own. Even with tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes he still believed that you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Hiromi sighed again, “You are carrying my child — our child, you could wake me up at five in the morning and ask me to travel across Japan for deep-fried butter and I would still go for you.”

You smiled despite yourself, “Really?”

“Although, I would complain the entire time.”

You beamed up at him. He swears the room lit up because of how bright your eyes were. “Does that mean you'll get me the honey?” With one last sigh, Hiromi pushed himself out of bed. “Ice cream too?” You nodded enthusiastically, “Make sure it’s the big tub.”

He just rolled his eyes, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Will you let me sleep once I’m home?”

“If you get a good flavour.”

Now, for the third time this week, Hiromi felt your hands nudge his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. “Romi,” your voice was soft, almost inaudible through the thick night. Almost. “Romi, baby…”

He let out a tired groan, shifting slightly in his half-conscious state. “Can you run to the store to buy some honey? We ran out and I really want to have some with grapes.” He made another sleepy grumble, cracking an eye open to peer at the digital clock on the side table.

4:07AM.

A long groan left his lips, arm flopping dramatically over his face in an attempt to hide from your pleading eyes even in the dark. “Honey,” his voice came out hoarse, coated in exhaustion, “I’m tired.”

The second those words left his mouth Hiromi knew he fucked up.

Silence engulfed the room for what felt like an eternity, he swiftly sat up, searching the dark room for your face. As his eyes adjusted he found your own, wide and glassy with tears that threatened to spill.

“Oh…” You whispered, lips quivering as you held back your tears.

Hiromi felt his heart drop to his ass. “N-No, no, don't —” but he was too late. “You don't have to go,” your voice wavered as you turned away from him and settled under the covers again. “Im sorry, I’m being annoying.”

He felt his stomach clench at your words, “Honey —”

“I didn't mean to disturb you...” you trailed off, curling inwards underneath the blanket.

Then he heard it, the sound that every husband fears.

Your sniffling.

His eyes widened, fear taking over every nerve as his hands searched for yours amid the pillows and covers. “Hey, why are you crying?” You sniffled again, trying to wriggle away as he approached you.

You hiccuped, “You hate me.” Hiromi sighed, moving closer so he could wrap his arms around you, “I absolutely do not hate you.”

“But you sounded mad.”

He chucked at your words, one hand coming up to brush against your cheek, “I sounded asleep.”

You let out a small giggle at his words, wiping your eyes. “You know, Romi, pregnancy cravings are scientifically proven to be emotionally distressing.” He smiled at you, nose brushing against your temple, “Did you finally read all those articles I've been sending you?”

“Maybe…” you murmured before nuzzling closer into his chest. Hiromi leaned over, lips brushing your own. Even with tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes he still believed that you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Hiromi sighed again, “You are carrying my child — our child, you could wake me up at five in the morning and ask me to travel across Japan for deep-fried butter and I would still go for you.”

You smiled despite yourself, “Really?”

“Although, I would complain the entire time.”

You beamed up at him. He swears the room lit up because of how bright your eyes were. “Does that mean you'll get me the honey?” With one last sigh, Hiromi pushed himself out of bed. “Ice cream too?” You nodded enthusiastically, “Make sure it’s the big tub.”

He just rolled his eyes, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Will you let me sleep once I’m home?”

“If you get a good flavour.”

Satoru Gojo

Gojo already knows you’re ovulating, your health app is linked to his phone, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up to you straddling his lap and grinding against him. What he is surprised about is how many times you both have finished and yet you are still insatiable.

“More. I need more Toru,” you whine, planting your hands on his chest, grinding against his cock while he whimpers and writhes underneath you.

“Take what you need, baby,” he replies, his face screwing into one of overstimulation, but it fades into pleasure again when his cock twitches against your soaking pussy.

You waste no time in reaching between you and gripping onto the base of him to line him up at your entrance. His hands grip onto the fat of your thighs, steadying you from your frantic movements, watching you through half-lidded, fucked out eyes.

Sinking down on him, an obscene moan rips from your throat while his cock fills you up, leaving no space inside of you empty just the way you like it. The thick head of his length is nestled against your cervix, his shaft is twitching against your sweet spot with every micro-movement, and when your nails dig into his chest from pleasure, he can’t help but buck his hips up into you while hissing.

“Still so t-tight,” he groans, his grip on you turns punishing as his head falls back against the pillows.

You fall with him, chest against chest, your lips finding each and every single inch of bare skin they can find. Kissing his jaw, his neck, his shoulders, just behind his ear, the rough skin of his chest, all open-mouthed and wet. Your knees dig into the mattress as you slide off him until you reach the tip, and you bounce in his lap when you come back down.  

“Feels so g-good Toru.”

Skin slapping against skin fills the room, along with mixed moans and groans, the smell of sex is so thick you could taste it. Your pussy is beyond lubricated from rounds and rounds so his cock glides in and out with little friction.

“Mhm,” is all he can manage to get out, his eyes shutting tight, mouth falling open the faster you ride him, the deeper his cock reaches, the harder you bounce.

You moan against his neck, mouth hanging open, drool dripping from your chin and strings of saliva connecting you to his skin. Your eyes stay open despite the tears staining your cheeks, you simply don’t want to miss the sight of THE Satoru Gojo so fucked out he can barely speak.

Every time your ass hits his thighs, the air is knocked out of his lungs resulting in breathy gasps, ones that you swallow immediately when your lips capture him. Your tongues dance around together, exploring the expanse that is not unknown, greedily taking each and every sound of pleasure.

“Need y-you to fill me u-up,” you whimper, grinding your hips down when he is buried to the hilt, feeling his cock twitch over and over again with tired desire and orgasmic pleasure.

His hands find your hips, steadying himself just barely before driving up into you. He fucks you relentlessly, not letting up for a single second, his hips rolling into yours until your body collapses against his.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your raw walls, your pussy molding to the familiar feeling of his cock, clenching down tight around him when he tries to pull out as if you never want him to leave. Your clit drags against the skin of his lower abdomen, your nipples brushing on the skin of his chest, his cock bullying your insides, and all of it pushes you over the edge.

“F-fuck, cumming… I’m c-cumming Toru,” you whine, body moving frantically with him, your climax peaking while your back arches and toes curl against the sheets.

Your body becomes rigid, muscle drawing taut as your orgasm begins to run through you. Cum gushes from your pussy, coating his length and dripping down his skin, pooling against the bed and leaving a mess to clean up later. Moans fall from your lips repeatedly, incoherent words mixing with his name right against his ear and it has him shooting his seed into you just from the sound of your honey sweet voice.

“Y-yeah? Just like this, right b-baby?”

With a few more thrusts he’s burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and leaking against your cervix. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, copious amounts coating your walls and leaking back out when no more will fit. It drips off your skin, falling into the mess from your own orgasm as proof of shared pleasure.

Gojo’s thrusts come to a stop, and his hands find your back immediately. He rubs against your spine, his thumb circling the soft skin as he soothes you, doing his best to catch his breath and recuperate.

Heavy breathing fills the air, hearts pounding against chests, bodies that are slick with sweat. You rest your head against his chest, coming down from your drawn-out climax, his cock still stuffed deep inside you.

“More,” you breathlessly say, fingers curling against his skin, your pussy already beginning to clamp down on his length once more.

“No. No more. What are you trying to do… kill me?”

You laugh softly, moving your head to kiss his chest, sucking ever so slightly on the skin before moving up to his face. You rest your forehead against his, lashes fluttering as you gaze at him, his own gaze falling upon yours.

“Aw, I thought the strongest would at least be able to handle a few more rounds,” you tease, pecking his lips and making a move to get off him.

Quicker than you can process, he has you flat on your back, cock still buried deep, and your legs wrapped around his waist. You gasp from the movement, staring up at him hovering above you, his fingers curling in the sheets as his arms cage your head in.

“Now that you mention it…”

Suguru Geto

Geto usually makes love to you, sweet and slow sex from the side, or you on top so he could watch your face and see every inch of your body, but right now you needed him to fuck you like his life depended on it instead of the sensual rounds he has been giving you repeatedly tonight.

“Sugu, baby… I need you to fuck me,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him where he lays behind you, stuffing his cock impossibly deep inside your pussy until the head is nestled against your cervix.

“Is that not what I am doing sweet girl,” he asks, kissing your back softly, moving to your shoulder, then your neck where he sucks the skin gently just to leave purple bruises behind.

His hips roll against you, his cock filling you up with precision, hitting every last spot inside of you. Hands on your hips, fingers digging into your fat, he groans in your ear as he watches your pussy swallow him whole.

Your ovulation has you bouncing off the walls though, craving him, specifically the meanest parts of him right now. Pushing against his thigh, you signal for him to pull out, and when he does you look over your shoulder to face him and really get your point across.

“Fuck me mean, not have sex with me softly.”

That is the last sentence you get out before Geto pounces on you.

Flat on your back, head buried in the pillows, he has your ankles by your ears with your pussy bare to him. He slams his cock back inside you, and without giving you any time to adjust, he starts his relentless, punishing pace you begged for.

“This is what you wanted, right,” he coos, tilting his head to the side in question, waiting for your answer.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up to the brim, leaving no space inside of you empty for too long. He thrusts hard and deep, going faster each time when his balls hit your ass and his skin slaps against yours. His fingers dig into the fat of your calves, pushing your legs against your chest, keeping you steady while he abuses your pussy.

You can’t even form a single thought, let alone find enough brain power to answer his question. Your mouth hangs open, moans leaking from you, drool dripping from your chin and onto the pillow below you. The bare skin of your thighs rubs against your nipples, stimulating you even further, and when you clench around him, he hisses from the tightness.

“I did not hear you,” he growls, fucking you harder, giving you painfully pleasurable strokes.

When all you do is moan and whimper his name in response, he takes one hand off your calf and slaps you across the face soft enough to feel good. Your eyes shoot open, watching a smirk pull at his lips before your gaze falls to where your pussy takes his impossibly large length. The pain turns to pleasure quickly when his thumb runs over the burning skin, soothing but punishing you at the same time.

“Answer me sweet girl, or I will stop.”

One hand grips the sheets, your fingers tangling in fabric, the other reaches down to push at his abdomen, begging him to let up on your poor body. He laughs softly, and thrusts harder.

“’s too much Sugu,” you whine, trying to squirm out from under him, but your pussy clenches tight like it never wants him to leave.

“Don’t run from something you asked for,” he growls, pulling you back down onto his cock, refusing to let you get away from him.

He angles you just enough to hit your sweet spot, and when your back arches from the bed as you cry out for him, he knows exactly how to wear you out. He places one leg on his shoulder, moving his hand to your lower belly, and he pushes against it to feel himself digging around deep in you.

“So c-close,” you whine, your body melting into his touch but shrinking away at the same time.

His thumb brushes against your clit, just once, just enough for goosebumps to line your skin and for your moans to turn completely breathless. He watches your face contort into pleasure, watches your body writhe beneath him, watches the way your swollen clit seems to beg for him.

“Yeah? Cum on my dick then… be a good girl, won’t you?”

He gathers slick to bring it up to your sensitive bundle of nerves before rubbing tight, quick circles on your clit, the pace matching his thrusts. Geto fucks you deeper, making sure to slam against your cervix and brush against your sweet spot, anything to get you to cum on his dick and tire you out at the same time.

“F-fuck, right there S-Sugu… I’m-“

Before you can finish your sentence your orgasm rushes through you, making your body become rigid and your muscles draw taut. Your walls flutter and clench around his length in rhythmic pulses as cum gushes from your pussy, leaking down his cock and making a mess between the two of you.

Your nails dig into his lower abdomen, the others gripping at the sheets as if it is your lifeline, and he grunts from the pleasurable pain of you. He tries to hold back his whimpers, but the second he glances down and catches sight of your cream coating his base, he cums immediately.

“Shit, so goddamn wet and t-tight… gonna fill you up so m-much.”

With a few more thrusts he is burying himself to the hilt with a final slam, cursing under his breath from how consuming the pleasure is. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy as his cock pulses deep inside of you, coating your walls, stream after stream pumping out against your cervix until it is leaking from you.

His movements come to a stop, and he releases your legs from his mean mating press just to collapse on top of you. His skin is warm, sweat slicking every part of him, his cock still buried deep as he tries to catch his breath.

Every clench of your pussy has him whimpering with overstimulation, and you watch his body jerk against yours while the two of you come down from the shared high. After a while he pushes himself up onto his elbows, hovering above your face, and leaning down to pepper your skin with the softest kisses.

“Did that do the job,” he asks in between kisses, his hands gliding over your skin, caressing you after fucking you oh-so mean.

“Mhm,” you hum out, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him against you again.

He laughs quietly, snuggling into you, melting as you run your fingers through his long, dark hair. He has no plans to move, in fact, he could go a few more rounds if you want.

Kento Nanami

Nanami is tired, although he will never admit it out loud, you can tell by the way his pace and rhythm falters after so many rounds. He doesn’t want to leave you high and dry while you’re ovulating though, in fact, he figures maybe he should bring out the big guns to really wear you out.

With his cock shoved deep inside your pussy, chest to chest, he rests his forehead against yours, heavily breathing while he places soft kisses to your lips. He reaches over, opening the drawer of your nightstand, and pulls out your vibrator.

He isn’t one to shy away from the best help he can get in bed.

He turns its on and the buzzing immediately floods your ears. Without wasting any time, he places it against your clit and resumes his thrusts. You back arches from the bed, the vibrations running through you mixed with the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix and sweet spot repeatedly has your toes curling against the sheets.

“Ken, f-fuck,” you moan out, your hand grabbing his wrist, pushing him away and pulling him closer all at once.

“That feel good, baby?”

He thrusts into you steadily, hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs, slow enough to feel like he’s making love to you. Elbow digging into the mattress, his arm cages around your head, bringing you closer to him as his fingers tangle in your hair. Your legs wrap around his waist, planting your hands on his chest, and he leans down until his warm breath is hitting your soft lips.

“So g-good,” you whine, rolling your hips against the vibrator, chasing the feeling of your high that is already so close.

Nanami pulls you into a kiss, your lips moving together in tandem, before sliding his tongue over your lips and entering your mouth. He explores slowly, mapping every inch of space as he greedily swallows your sounds of pleasure. Every few seconds he pulls away, a low groan rumbling through his chest while his cock twitches in the very depths of your pussy.

“So wet and tight… you feel so good around me,” he praises, peppering kisses along your jaw, your neck where he sucks and bites the skin ever so slightly, your shoulder where he licks long stripes to taste the salty-sweet of you, and it drives you insane.

His pace picks up, thrusting into you quicker now, encouraged by the way your walls clench and flutter around his length. Your nails dig into the rough skin of his chest, pleasuring him painfully, and while your head falls back against the pillow you cry out for him.

Your mouth hangs open ever so slightly, drool leaking from your lips and dripping down your chin. Your moans come out broken, in short breathy gasps every time he slams against your cervix, whimpering softly when he pulls back out just to do it all over again.

The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you to the brim, molding your insides to fit him and making sure to hit every part of you. He doesn’t leave you empty for long, always sliding his length back inside until he’s buried as deep as he can go. His shaft twitches against your sweet spot, brushing past it with precision, tip leaking precum that beads from his slit and sticks to you like glue.

“Cum for me, sweet girl. Let me f-feel you,” he says, the words turning into a ragged beg at the end, his fingers moving to turn up the setting on the vibrator to push you over the edge.

He thrusts deeper, harder, faster, anything to get you to where you need to be. You’re so close, your orgasm sitting in your lower belly ready to snap like a spring coiled tight, and the sound of his voice cracking and begging only stimulates you further.

“S-shit… gonna c-cum Ken, p-please,” you whine, rolling your hips frantically, bucking them up and pushing them down again before repeating the motion.

The urge fills your body, heavy and delicious, and you can’t seem to hold back when he knocks against your cervix again. Warm streams of squirt shoot from you, getting everything wet. It coats his cock, soaks his skin and drips down until it pools in the sheets. Your body twitches from the force of pleasure running through you, and you push away the vibrator to let him draw your high out with just his cock.

“There you g-go,” he coos, setting the vibrator down and running his hand along the length of your side, caressing the skin as he drives himself to his own release.

With every thrust of his cock, more squirt leaks out, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight. There is nothing like seeing his wife writhe with pleasure underneath him. The thought alone has him cumming.

A guttural groan tears from his chest, and he buries himself to the hilt, pumping so slowly into you while he gives himself to his climax. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls, seeping in past your cervix and leaking out when no more will fit all at the same time. He rocks inside you, his forehead resting against yours, and he kisses you with pure passion and relief.

You pull away, breathing heavily, gasping for the same air he steals from you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he buries his face there, smelling the sweat and aroma of your arousal and release mixing together. The room reeks of sex, thick enough in the air you could taste it. The sheets are wet, your body is tired, and all he wants to do is roll over and pull you into his arms to go to sleep.

“Do you feel better, baby,” he asks, his words vibrating against your skin, and he punctuates it with a soft kiss.

“So much better, Kenny baby.”

Hiromi Higuruma

Higuruma slipped into the shower early morning for work, trying his hardest not to wake you, but you inevitably stir from your dreams and make your way towards the bathroom. You step into the shower without a word, silent and sneaky, and wrap your arms around his waist.

He mumbles out a tired apology, continuing to let the water run down his skin, but stops in his tracks when your hand grazes too low. Your fingers ruffle through his happy trail, tickling the sensitive skin of his abdomen unintentionally, before moving lower, and lower.

Wrapping your hand around his base, you squeeze tight, taking in his groan that rumbles through his body and vibrates through your own as his cock grows hard from your touch. The water falls against your hand, making it easy to glide, and you rub his tip with your thumb where precum begins to bead. His body shudders against you, his back pressing into your chest when you begin to stroke his length.

He turns around quickly, placing two hands on the back of your thighs, and hiking you up his body until your legs wrap around his waist. You kiss him rough, needy, and you gasp against his mouth when the cold shower wall hits your back. Goosebumps rise along your skin, the frigid tile, your nipples against his chest, your hands roaming every inch of his body you could reach, you need him and you need him now.

“Want it that bad, huh,” he asks, resting his forehead against yours, catching his breath from your all-consuming kiss.

“Please Romi,” you whisper, rolling your hips against him, begging him for it.

You reach down between the two of you, grabbing hold of his cock, and lining it up with your entrance. He pushes in slow, letting your walls mold to his length, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him as he fills every last inch of your aching pussy.

“F-fuck, so b-big,” you gasp out, burying your face in his neck, placing wet, out-mouthed kisses against his skin.

When his tip hits your cervix, he pulls out, hissing from the tightness of your walls clamping down on him for dear life, and slams back into you. Your back slides against the tile, but he holds you steady, keeping you exactly where he wants so he can thrust into you effortlessly.

“Yeah? I’m making you feel good?”

His balls clap against your skin with his steady movements, hips rolling against yours to dig deep inside of you, his length brushes past your sweet spot and your back is arching from the tile wall. Your toes curl against his skin, nails digging into his back, and your teeth nip at his neck from the uncontainable pleasure running through you.

“So g-good,” you cry out, your sounds of pleasure vibrating against his skin, your touch burning through him.

You bring one hand down, finding your clit with ease, and begin rubbing tight, quick circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. He groans from the sight, pounding into you harder, faster, deeper, eager to watch you cum on him.

“Look at you, so needy,” he says, moving one hand to your ass, the other trailing up your back and letting his fingers tangle in your hair.

He pulls on it, pulling your face out of his neck, gazing at your fucked out look. Your eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging open ever so slightly as drool drips from your chin, and he watches as your hips roll desperately against your own fingers to chase your orgasm.

“You feel so good around me.”

His words sound like music to your ears, the praise rumbling through your body and landing right in the pool of heat sitting in your lower belly. Your hand works faster at your clit, body moving frantically with a desire so strong its almost overwhelming. He grunts when your walls clench around him, so tight he can barely thrust into you, knowing that you are so close.

“Eyes on me when you cum,” he says, voice stern and leaving no room for argument, not that you would argue anyways so you nod your head and peel your eyes open.

Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking down the length of his cock, running down his skin before the water washes everything away. He glances down, watching as your pussy swallows him whole, at the way your slick and cum leave a sticky cream at his base, and he moves as if he is going to pull out.

“Gonna cum, f-fuck.”

“C-cum in me Romi, p-please,” you beg shamelessly, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, locking your ankles at the dip of his back.

“In you? B-baby… aren’t you ovulating,” he groans, his cock twitching at the request, the thought of him filling you up at a time like this only pushing him closer and closer to his climax.

You nod your head, saying yes and begging all at once, and he is never the type to tell you no.

His pace falters, his hips stutter against yours, and with a few more thrusts he’s burying himself to the hilt and spilling his seed against your cervix. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls as his cock twitches and pulses rhythmically. It leaks out when there’s no more room left inside of you, dripping onto the shower floor and washing away without leaving a mess.

His body slumps against yours after drawing out the shared high until both of you are twitching and whimpering. Slowly, he lowers you to the shower floor, planting his hands on your hips to keep you steady as your legs wobble, and he buries his face in your neck.

“Stay home from work,” you whisper breathlessly, resting your forehead against his, placing a feather light kiss to his lips.

He laughs softly, pulling away to really get a good look at you, and shakes his head in disbelief.

“To do what? Have sex all day?”

You place your hands on your hips, sticking one leg out and letting your foot tap once.

“And why do you say it like it’s the worst idea you’ve ever heard,” you ask, tilting your head to the side in question, getting irritated by his response.

“Actually… now that I’m thinking about it, that's a great idea, baby. Let’s do it.”

“Mhm.”

Toji Fushiguro

Toji loves when you’re needy, so needy that it clouds your brain and the only thing on it is how much you want to get fucked by him. It makes his cock impossibly hard, which is when you are bent over the arm of the couch, pussy completely bare for him and being stuffed with every last inch of his length.

One hand is spread on your lower belly, pressing into the soft skin, he groans while feeling himself dig around inside of you. His other hand cups your breasts, fingers pulling at your nipple, feeling it harden from his touch. He has your feet knocked far apart as he stands tall behind you, pounding into you like a rabid animal.

“You like that? Feels good don’t it,” he coos, leaning down to press a rough kiss to your spine, relishing the way you shiver from the sudden touch.

Nodding your head yes, you arch your back further, the new angle seeming to let him reach even deeper inside of you while hitting all the perfect spots with a learned precision. You reach behind you, pushing against his lower abdomen, silently begging him to let up on your poor abused pussy, but all he does is push it away while he laughs under his breath.

“Take it. You wanted it so bad so you’re gonna take it,” he growls, growing more irritated from the audacity you have after riding him 20 different ways all while complaining it wasn’t enough.

He thrusts deep inside you, knocking against your cervix and brushing past your sweet spot, angling his hips every time to leave no part of you unstimulated. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, leaving his imprint, stretching you wide just for him. Grunts rumble out from his chest, vibrating through your body, filling the air and mixing along with your own whines and whimpers.

“’s too much Ji,” you whine, but your pussy gushes on him, and your ass pushes back to meet his next thrust.

He stops thrusting just for a second, just to watch the way you fuck back against him, just to see how much you really want it, and he scoffs from how frantic the movements of your hips become. Your ass slaps against his skin, rippling from the force as his thrusts pick up once more, all while his balls hit your clit. The sensation knocks the air out of your lungs, the contact sharp and exhilarating, and it’s enough to have heat pooling in your lower belly.

“You’re a bad liar, babygirl.”

The closer you get to your orgasm, the more fucked out you become. He feels your walls clamping down, he feels how close you’re getting, he knows all your tells without you having to utter a single word.

His hand grips your jaw, pulling you face towards him, making you watch him fuck you rough and deep. He groans at the sight of you: tears staining your cheeks, mouth hanging open ever so slightly as moans leak out, drool dripping from your chin and your bottom lip sucked between your teeth.

"Look at me when I make you cum," he growls, his hand sliding from your lower belly to your clit, and you gasp from the rough touch of his calloused fingers.

He rubs quick, tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, pausing every so often to roll it between his fingers, pinching ever so slightly just to hear your breathy gasps. Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, makes your legs weaker, drives your closer to your oh-so-sweet orgasm.

“Cum on my dick, yeah? Be a good girl and get me wet,” he says, voice low and rough, and you can tell the way he tries to hide the crack in his voice from the pleasure he’s feeling by clearing his throat at the end of his sentence that's he as close as you are.

You roll your hips against his fingers, grinding down hard, fucking back against him to meet him halfway with every single thrust. Your nipples drag against the couch, your nails dig into the fabric, and you can’t help the whines and moans that fall from your lips when you cum on his cock.

“F-fuck, gonna c-cum Ji!”

Cum gushes from your pussy, coating his cock, leaving a cream around the base as he continues to fuck you. His fingers slow on your clit, drawing out the high for as long as possible, his cock twitching deep inside you from the feeling of your walls fluttering and clamping down on his length rhythmically.

“Good girl. Gonna make me cum in this pussy. That’s what you want, huh,” he asks, tilting his head to the side in question, his smirk fading the closer he gets to his orgasm.

You nod frantically, gazing up at him, pushing your ass back further onto him and it drives him insane. He grips the fat of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to give him a better view of your greedy pussy swallowing his cock with little effort and the cream left around the base of him.

“F-fuck,” he stutters breathlessly, his pace faltering from the sight alone, and it’s enough to have him cumming so deep inside of you.

His fingers tighten around your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on him, and he drives himself to his own release. With a guttural groan, he throws his head back and drives himself to the hilt. Long, thick ropes of cum flood your pussy, coating your walls, leaking out when there is no room left for him. It drips down the back of your thighs, leaving a mess to be cleaned up later.

Toji’s hips continue to roll into you, it is barely noticeable with how wet your pussy is, and he does his best to pump his cum deeper while his body is twitching with overstimulation.

“Might give you some more. Make sure it sticks,” he grins, his hand finding your hip and positioning you just how he wants you.

When his pace picks up, all you can do is cry out for him in pleasure. He will take care of your needy pussy exactly how he wants to, and he won’t put up with you complaining about it either.

Ryomen Sukuna

You don’t even need to go multiple rounds with Sukuna when he’s already fucking into you like an animal on the first one. He knows you’re ovulating, so why not give your body exactly what it wants to begin with.

“What a fucking slut. You just want my cum in you, isn’t that right,” he coos, gazing at you in the bathroom mirror, grunting with every thrust of his hips as he watches you take his fat cock so deep inside of you.

You’re bent over the bathroom counter, your legs spread wide to make room for his beefy body, your pussy gushing on his length while he abuses your cervix. Eyes half-lidded, mouth hanging open while obscene moans fall from you, you claw at the marble, trying to find purchase on anything that will help you run from his relentless and punishing thrusts.

“Don’t move,” he growls, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he pulls you back on him with a particularly hard thrust just before slapping your ass hard.

Stars burst behind your eyelids from the pleasurable pain as his fingers graze over the now sensitive skin and you gasp from the contact. Your eyes shut tight, your pussy crying for more despite his cock rubbing your walls raw, and you cry out for him.

“Look at yourself while I fuck you,” he says, voice low and rough as his hands slides up your spine before snaking around your neck.

He grips you hard, blocking your airway just enough, and he gently shakes your head side to side until your eyes open. You look at yourself: tears staining your cheeks, drool dripping from your chin, your breasts pressed up against the counter, and you can’t deny the fact that the sight of you like this only makes you gush on his cock even more.

“You like that, don’t you? Watching yourself get fucked dumb,” he asks, tilting his head in question, patiently waiting to hear what you have to say.

“’s too much K-Kuna,” you gasp out, every thrust knocking the air from your lungs, his grip on your neck only making it harder to speak.

The second you're done speaking he slides two fingers into your mouth, and you suck without protest. You hum around his digits, biting hard when his cock hits your sweet spot, but he only groans from the pain mixing with the feeling of your wet walls wrapped so tightly around him.

“Fuckin’ tight… gripping me like a crazy woman,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady but you can hear the slight wavering from how good he feels inside you.

He spreads your cheeks, giving himself a better view of your pussy sucking him in, you watch him in the mirror as his own mouth hangs open and the quietest whimpers fall the most nonchalant man you know. It only spurs you on more.

You fuck back against him, your ass meeting his pelvis with every thrust he gives you, his balls slapping against your clit, his cock molding your walls to his impossible size. The veins and ridges of his length slide through you, filling you up and leaving no part of you empty for too long. He slams against your cervix, brushing past your sweet spot, all while he watches your face contort with pleasure from his own doing.

“Takin’ it like a good girl, you know that?”

You nod your head frantically, sucking his fingers harder in agreement, arching your back even further against the counter to give him the best view possible. He buzzes with pleasure, wrapping one hand around your waist, pushing against your lower belly to feel himself so deep inside of you.

“Yeah… you’re taking it real good,” he restates just before moving down to find your clit.

He rubs tight, fast circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, matching the pace of his thrusts, letting your hips grind against his fingers without telling you not to like he usually did. He knows you're close, and when you’re ovulating, you’re more feral than normal, so he knows your orgasm is the last thing to play with.

“Gonna cum on my dick? Yeah?”

You bite down on his fingers, nodding your head, rubbing your clit against his calloused digits, and you don’t stop until your body becomes rigid and your muscles draw taut. Cum gushes from your entrance, leaking out around his length, coating his cock in your cream before it drips down his skin and onto the bathroom mat.

His fingers only let up on your clit when your body begins to twitch with overstimulation, and only then does he allow himself to focus on his own climax.

“Fill you up, give this pussy what she wants. That sound good?”

He already knows the answer to that question, so he thrusts faster, harder, deeper until he is burying himself to the hilt and leaking against your cervix. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls in his seed, his cock twitching with every stream until it leaks out and drips down the back of your thighs.

“S-shit,” he groans, drawing out the high shared between the two of you, making it last as long as possible before he’s collapsing against your back.

He breathes heavily, his heart pounding out of his chest and against your skin, his body warm with release and relief. His hands trail up your sides as he kisses your spine as soft as possible, careful with you after fucking you like he didn’t even love you, but he knows that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Need another round,” he asks, lifting his face just barely off your back, his warm breath spreading against your skin and sending goosebump down your back.

You shake your head no, your own chest heaving, your own body continuing to twitch from the sheer force of your orgasm. He laughs softly against your skin, placing kisses on the back of your shoulders, making his way up your neck before finally finding your lips.

“I’m just too good.”

You push him away, feigning disgust from his cocky words, and he laughs louder this time, wrapping his arms around your waist before dragging you towards the shower where he washes you with the utmost care.

Choso Kamo

Choso is a mess underneath you. Tears stain his cheeks; whimpers fall from his lips while he keeps telling you he can’t take anymore. You’re straddling him, your knees digging into the mattress on either side of him, his cock shoved so deep inside of you that the head is nestled against your cervix. Your pussy clenches around his length as you beg him for one more round, and you feel him stir back to life despite his cries that it’s too much.

You grind your hips down on his, your clit rubbing against his pelvis, and his hands find your hips to steady the two of you. His fingers grip onto the fat of your skin the moment you rise up on his cock, and his nails dig into the soft flesh when you sink back down.

His head falls against the headboard, his eyes shutting tight, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly as whines pour from him. You plant both hands on his chest, and you begin to ride him harder, and faster, taking him deeper than you have in any of the previous rounds.

“You’re such a good boy for me Cho,” you say breathlessly, praising him for putting up with your ovulation, watching the overstimulation fade from him and turn into pleasure once more.

His eyes open quickly, so receptive to your words, your honey sweet voice flooding his ears as he watches you. Your breasts bounce with every movement you make, your nipples hard, and swollen from constant sucking, but his mouth latches onto one anyways.

He sucks, licks, bites the sensitive bud, swirling his tongue around it, his other hand reaching up to twist, pull, and pinch the opposite one. Your head falls back, from the stimulation, moans ripping from your throat from the pleasure he gives you. He whines against your breast, the vibrations running through your body and landing in the pool of heat sitting in your lower belly.

“Always make me f-feel so g-good,” you whimper, trying your hardest to get the words out but every drop down on his cock knocks the air out of your lungs resulting in short, breathy gasps.

“Want to make you feel good,” he stutters out, pulling his mouth away from your nipple, resting his hands back on your hips before leaning back against the headboard and planting his feet on the mattress.

Without another word he thrusts into you, hard and quick, pulling out as he holds you so you’re hovering above him, and plunging back in. The veins and ridges of his cock slide through your walls, filling you up and leaving no space empty for too long. He slams against your cervix, brushes past your sweet spot, and leaves just the tip in before doing it again.

“F-fuck Cho… so c-close,” you whine, grinding your hips against him every time he pounds into you, your hands moving to his shoulders where your nails dig into his skin earning you whimpers from him due to the pleasurable pain of you.

He doubles his efforts, slamming into you and grinding your hips on him, knowing his skin rubs against your clit in a way you love. He presses you down against him, feeling your soft nipples drag against his chest, stimulating you in every way he can. Consistently hitting your cervix, angling his hips to hit your sweet spot, your walls so full of him, all of it pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me, p-please,” he begs, his body aching to feel your pleasure, his cock dying to feel your cum against his skin for the umpteenth time tonight.

His voice sounds like music to your ears, his sweet, sweet begs enough to make you cum right then and there, which is exactly what you do. You give your body to him, slumping against him the weaker you become, letting him take over and please you the way you know he can.

Your body becomes rigid, muscles drawing taut as he pushes your over the edge effortlessly. Cum gushes from your pussy as your walls flutter and clench around his length, making a mess on his skin, dripping down onto the sheets below and soaking through this with ease. Moans rip from your chest, and they don’t fall on deaf ears.

“So g-good, I’m going to- f-fuck- going to c-cum,” he whimpers, thrusting into you harder, faster to chase his own release.

With a few more thrusts and even more pathetic whimpers, he drives himself to the hilt and spills his seed against your cervix. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, coating your walls in everything he has to give, leaking out around his length where there’s no more room inside of you and mixing with your own cum on the sheets.

He draws out the high before his movements stop completely. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily against your skin, his warm breath sending goosebumps along your spine. You melt under his touch, your thumb rubbing soft, slow circles on the skin of his chest, feeling his heart pounding underneath your palm from his intense orgasm.

“Did I… do g-good,” he asks, whimpering slightly when you position yourself better on top of him, his cock still buried deep inside you and still twitching as it slowly grows soft.

“Better than good Cho,” you hum out, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you, the warmth of his skin spreading through yours and it puts you right to sleep.

│Masterlist│

Tags: @1cckedheart, @blacgyal, @itskekeelise, @x2yuno, @cateleya-21, @gojosarmpithair, @mrskamikazekaito, @bl-nk-bla-k, @tojisgothiccbaby, @satorusoul, @scarhein, @starryastronauts, @yukicvntlv

“A-Are you hurt?” She tried to sound serious, demanding that he answer her, but her concern was evident- fearful that her father might have gotten hurt.

Something tightened in Sukuna's chest -just slightly- at the question. Of course that would be her first concern... Just like you, her beautiful mother, always worried about him.

“No, brat,” he finally answered with a lazy smirk, one sharp nail brushing aside her bangs before ruffling her hair, “it’s not my blood.”

Her eyes narrowed, processing this information until she pointed a small finger at his forearm where a vivid red pattern stood out against his black tattoos.

“Does that mean it belongs to someone else?”

Sukuna's laugh was dark and low, edged with something dangerous, “Someone who fucked with the wrong pers-…”

“Bad language tax,” she replied automatically, but the reprimand was distracted, secondary to her question.

“Put it on my tab,” he sighed, “but yeah… your old man had to take care of a bad guy.”

Her ice cream cup clinked softly against the table as it nearly slipped from her tiny hands just as she gasped. Her entire little body stiffening, the mug wobbling in her grip. Her eyes went huge, mouth forming a perfect O. She whispers under her breath loud enough for him to hear, “Papa… is a superhero???”

Sukuna laughed at that, “Not even fucking close,” he said, red eyes shimmering with amusement, “but the bastard had it coming.”

She gasped dramatically at the swears, then immediately giggled- as if what he just said didn’t even phase her, “You said more bad words,” she whispered, “Mama's gonna be mad.”

“Your mother has heard worse,” he said, mouth quirking up at one corner.

“If you’re not a super hero, then what are you, papa?”

Sukuna's eyes darkened, “I'm the thing heroes fight against,” he said simply. “the monster that lurkes in the shadows.”

She frowned, “But monsters are bad,” she declared, “and you’re not bad. You protect mama and I.”

The certainty in her voice -the absolute, unwavering faith- made Sukuna's chest tighten again... The very feeling he'd thought long dead until you had somehow revived it, and this small extension of himself had brought fully to life again.

“The world's not that simple, kid,” he said, more gently than anyone who knew him would believe possible.

She nodded, “Like how you tell me stealing is wrong, but then you stole the last cookie yesterday?”

Sukuna’s expression went blank, not expecting that to be her example of how the world isn’t simple, “That's… different. My house, my cookies.”

She gave him a cheesy grin before laughing- this moment where she was confronting the violent reality of who and what her father was. “I think,” she announced, reaching out fearlessly to touch a particularly vivid splash of blood on his shirt, “that you're like the dragon, Sylus, in my book!”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious, “How's that?”

“He’s scary and breathes fire and everyone's afraid of him,” she explained, tiny hands flying in the air now with pure excitement, “But!! That’s because he is protecting his treasure.”

Her eyes never left his, “We're your treasure. Me and mama! So you have to be scary sometimes to keep us safe! You’re a special kind of hero!”

Something dangerously close to emotion threatened to close Sukuna's throat. This child -this impossibility- making sense of him in ways adults never could. Accepting the violence and the blood as just another aspect of protection…

“Sure, something like that…” he managed, voice wavering ever so slightly.

She nodded once, decision made, “Then it's okay.” She patted his cheek with small, sticky fingers, leaving a smear of pink ice cream among the blood. “But mama is going to be mad about the shirt. It's white… erm, well… was...”

Sukuna snorted, the tension of the moment broken by her practical observation, “Your mother's seen worse.”

“Worse shirts?” she asked innocently.

“Worse everything,” he muttered, straightening to his full towering height, “now finish your ice cream while I clean up.”

As Sukuna discarded his shirt he looked back at his little girl…

A hero. What a fucking joke…