Confessions Restaurant & Lounge pulses with booming 808 basslines of UGK, Z-Ro & Trae Tha Truth. Thick Southern drawl in every Dirty South lyric that matched the crowd moving below. Brown skin, dark skin, copper skin, deep mahogany skin caught the strobe lights and threw it back in flashes. Gold hoops swung. Rings glimmered. Fresh lineups, silk presses, locs, curls, braids, and fades moved through the sea of black people like art in motion. Everywhere you looked, somebody was laughing. Heads tipped back. Hands slapped shoulders. You could see girls huddled and gossiping while sipping vibrant drinks that snuck up on them like a chill. Bodies packed the main floor, women in lace jumpsuits, tight dresses, skirts that barely covered ass, stilettos and platforms. Men wearing sneakers straight out the box, all the jewelry in their collection, grills gleaming like rainbows. Women twerked low to the southern beats while men watched from the edges with drinks in hand. 

Up in the private VIP section, separated by velvet ropes and a low glass partition that let the noise in but kept the space exclusive. Plush black leather couches lined the walls, low tables scattered with bottles of top-shelf liquor and ashtrays holding half-smoked blunts. 

Stack sat back in the center couch, one arm draped along the backrest, black shirt open at the collar to show the gold chains layered against his brown skin. His tailored pants fit sharp over his athletic frame, expensive loafers planted wide, rings catching the colored lights every time he lifted his glass. 

She sat right beside him, thigh pressed against his. Her dress clung like it was painted on, short enough to show the length of her legs and cut low to frame the curve of her chest, the fabric shimmering. She held her posture straight, shoulders back, chin lifted just enough to project that ice-queen distance she wore like armor. Her eyes stayed sharp, scanning the room with cool assessment, and every time Stack leaned in, she answered with clipped words or a raised brow that dared him to push further. 

Stack watched her for a long moment, the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes narrowing as he read the attitude rolling off her. His honeyed, Mississippi drawl came low, meant only for her ear over the thump of the music. 

“You been runnin’ that mouth all night like you forgot where you at. Like you forgot who put you in this section, who decides how long you stay.” His free hand rested on her knee, fingers pressing just firm enough to remind her of the grip he could tighten. “You know who you belong to. You know what happens if you keep givin’ me that look, like you too good for a reminder.” 

She shifted in her seat slightly but didn’t pull away, her expression staying composed even as the tension between them rose. Stack’s thumb traced a slow line along her skin, his gaze dropping briefly to the way her dress rode up before lifting back to her face. 

“Keep it up and I’ma put you right where you need to be. On your knees in this booth…throat open while the music covers every sound you make…you think that attitude protects you out there but in here…it just tells me how bad you want the correction.” 

His voice always stayed smooth, flirtatious on the surface but edged with the control he wielded so easily. It made her pulse quicken despite the cool mask she kept in place. 

Stack fixed her with that sharp, amused stare. 

“Why the fuck you show up if you can’t stand me?” 

She crossed her arms, her posture stiff and eyes darting to the crowd beyond them. “I came for the music. That’s all.” 

He chuckled low at first, then let it roll out fuller, shaking his head like she’d told the best joke he’d heard all night. 

“Nah. Don’t play that. You knew I’d be here. So what’s the real reason?”

“Drop it,” she whispered, turning her shoulder slightly away. 

Stack leaned in closer, his gold chains catching the colored lights. His lips brushed her cheek, nose pressed against her hair, taking a sniff. 

“I don’t like being ignored. You hear me? Answer the question.” 

She stayed quiet, jaw tight, refusing to meet his gaze even as the tension pulled tighter between them. Her eyes flicked down for a split second, catching the thick outline pressing against his pants, heavy and obvious. She snapped her focus back up fast, but not fast enough. 

Stack caught the glance, his lips curving into a slow grin. He chuckled, the sound warm and knowing. 

“What you lookin’ at?” 

She shifted her weight, voice flat. “You know what I’m looking at.” 

Stack reached out without hesitation, catching her wrist and guiding her hand straight to the fat bulge in his pants. Her palm landed against the heat and solid weight of it, fingers brushing the shape through the fabric. She rolled her eyes hard, pulling her usual ice back into place like armor, expression bored and distant even as her hand stayed where he put it. 

Stack watched her face the whole time, reading every flicker she tried to hide. 

“Yeah, I see you. Actin’ like you don’t care, but your hand ain’t moving.” His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges with that familiar taunt. “You gon’ keep playing games or you gon’ get on your knees and suck this dick?” 

The question hung between them just like that fat dick twitching hard beneath her hand, a sudden pulse that made the thick shaft jump against her fingers. Heat radiated through the fabric, intense and alive, the warmth seeping into her skin like it was trying to brand her. She could feel every detail—the fat girth stretching the material taut, the way it throbbed with a steady pulse that matched the bass from the club floor, the subtle ridge along the underside that hinted at its veined length. It was solid, unyielding, and growing firmer by the second under her touch, the warmth building until it felt almost feverish. 

She bit down on her lower lip, teeth sinking in to trap the moan that threatened to slip out. Her body betrayed her even as she kept her expression locked in that icy mask, eyes narrowed and jaw set like she was above all this. But her mouth watered anyway, saliva pooling at the thought of wrapping around that big dick, and her clit thumped insistently between her thighs, a dull ache that pulsed in time with the twitch she felt in her palm. Defiance kept her spine straight and her shoulders squared, but the way her fingers curled just slightly against the bulge gave her away, pressing in to feel more of that thick, warm weight. 

Stack’s eyes never left her face, noticing the way her breath hitched despite her best efforts. 

“That’s what I thought.” Stack whispered, shifting his hips just enough to grind the print harder into her hand.

Stack didn’t wait for an answer. His free hand went to his pants, unzipping with a quick pull that freed the heavy length of his dick. It sprang out thick and dark, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, veins pulsing along the shaft. She couldn’t tear her eyes from it, the sight locking her in place even as her fingers stayed pressed against the warm skin now exposed. 

Stack laughed low, the sound rumbling from his chest as he caught the way her gaze locked on, wide and hungry despite the stubborn set of her jaw. 

“Look at that face,” he taunted, voice thick with amusement and that Mississippi drawl. “Eyes all big like you ain’t never seen a dick this size before. You actin’ like you too good but your mouth’s damn near droolin’. Go on, admit it…that look says you want every inch down your throat.” 

Stack’s hips thrusted upward, positioning that fat dick straight up so it stood rigid against his stomach, the full weight of his balls hanging heavy and tight below. It twitched visibly, the shaft bobbing with each rush of blood, the warmth radiating off it in waves that she felt even from inches away. The head flared dark and slick, a thick vein running the underside that throbbed in time with the southern bass. 

Her defiance cracked right there. She gave in with a sharp breath, sliding down to her knees without another word, dress bunched at her waist, bare ass resting on her heels. Her hands reached to grip his thighs as her lips parted. The heat hit her first when she leaned in, that feverish warmth from his skin making her clit throb harder between her legs. 

Stack’s dick stood heavy and rigid in front of her face, a network of raised veins pulsing along its length. The fat head flared wide, shiny with a bead of precum that stretched into a thin string when she leaned in. Her mouth watered openly now, tongue flicking out to taste the tip before her lips parted and stretched around the broad crown, struggling to take the girth as she sank down. Saliva welled up fast, coating the upper half of his shaft in a glossy sheen that caught the strobe lights every time she bobbed. 

Stack’s hand rested on the back of her head, rings heavy against her hair. He let her work for a few strokes, watching her cheeks hollow and her throat flex. Then, he gave a short push that forced another inch inside. 

“That mouth tryin’, ain’t it?” He said, voice low and taunting. “You call that sucking, baby? Feel like you just holding it.” 

 She tried to take more, jaw aching, but he tightened his grip and eased her back until the head remained between her lips like she was sucking on a lollipop. A wet pop sounded when he pulled free completely. His dick swayed, slick and heavy, the veins standing out darker now from the suction. Stack tapped his fat head against her cheek twice, leaving wet marks and sticky trails of pre cum.

“Nah. Lick it proper first. Base to tip. Slow. Show me you want it.” 

Her tongue dragged along the underside, tracing every ridge and vein, saliva dripping from her chin onto her cleavage. Stack watched with half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth lifted, dimple peeking. When she reached the head and swirled her tongue around it, he let her suck the tip again for a moment before yanking her off once more.

“Greedy. You ain’t earned the whole thing yet.” 

Stack gripped the base with one hand, angling the thick length so the head brushed her parted lips but stayed just out of reach. She leaned forward; he leaned back an inch, keeping the distance. 

“Uh-uh. Ask nice. Tell me what that mouth is good for.” 

Her answer came out hoarse, “for sucking this big dick.”

Stack rewarded her with a single swallow thrust that barely stretched her lips before withdrawing again. Spit trailed from her lower lip to the head of his dick. 

“That’s better,” he said, feeding her another inch, then two, until her nose nearly brushed his trimmed hair. 

He held her there, feeling her throat flutter around the fat intrusion, then pulled her off completely. His dick glistened from root to tip, strands of spit connecting her mouth to the head. Stack slapped it lightly against her tongue, the weight of it making a soft pat-pat sound. 

“Breathe. Then try again. And don’t stop until I say.” 

She dove back in, lips sliding down the veined girth with more determination, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth. Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair, guiding her but never letting her set the pace herself. Every few strokes he would ease her back, denying her the deeper reach she chased, his voice smooth and cutting above her. 

“Still half-assing it. Open that throat or I’ll do it for you.” 

That fat head popped free again, shiny and swollen, and he dragged it across her lips in a slow tease before letting her have it once more. She slid back down on him, lips straining wide around the broad crown, but Stack’s fingers tightened in her hair and he gave a low chuckle that held no warmth. 

“Nah. I don’t want that pretty dick sucking either. You hear me?” He yanked her off with a wet pop, dick swinging heavy and slick, thickness coated in ropes of spit that dripped from the tip down to the base where veins stood out dark and pulsing. His fat length twitched, shiny and obscene, Stack slapping it on her tongue again. 

“Open wider. Get nasty wit’ it. I want spit running down my balls, not this tidy little bob you think pass for sucking.” 

Stack fed that wide tip back between her lips but only halfway, holding her there while she sucked softly, then pulled free once more so his entire veined girth glistened and swayed in her face in a hypnotic dance. Her chin was shiny, drool sliding down her neck. Stack angled his dick so the head brushed her cheek, leaving a wet smear. 

“Look at that. You tryna keep it cute? Fuck that. Slobber on it like the greedy slut you is.” 

Stack pushed her face lower, making her tongue drag along the underside where a thick vein pulsed against her taste buds, then let her suck the tip again only to deny her the rest. Every time she tried to sink deeper he eased back, the fat crown popping free shiny and swollen, strings of spit connecting her mouth to his dick. 

“That’s right. Make a mess. I want it dripping off my shit ‘fore I even think ‘bout letting you choke on the whole thing.” His free hand stroked the base once, slow, showing her the full heavy length before tapping it against her parted lips. “Breathe through your nose and get sloppy. Or I’ll just fuck that throat myself.”

She stopped fighting the urge and let it happen, drool spilling freely from the corners of her mouth as she worked her tongue along every inch he allowed. Spit coated the full length of his dick, thick strands stretching and snapping each time she pulled back for air. Wet trails ran down her throat and soaked the neckline of her dress. Stack watched with a satisfied smirk, his grip in her hair firm. 

“There it is,” he said, voice low and approving in that mocking way he had. “Look how quick you got it. All I had to do was tell you once and now you making a proper mess. Easy, ain’t it?” He let her sink a little deeper on her own, the head of his dick nudging the back of her throat before he eased her off again. “Follow directions and this shit get simple. No need for all that fuckin’ attitude you walked in wit’. Just open up and slobber like I said.”  

Her tongue dragged heavy and wet under his shaft, spit bubbling at the corners as she tried to take more without being told. Stack chuckled, tapping his slick head against her lips before sliding it back in halfway.

“Yeah, just like that. See how much better it feels when you stop pretending? You can act like you run shit out there, but right here you follow every word, makes my job easy too.” 

His fat crown pressed deeper while spit poured down over his balls. The wet sounds filled the VIP space, louder than the muffled bass from the club floor. Stack’s free hand rested on her jaw, thumb stroking the slick skin as he held her in place for a moment. 

“Keep going exactly like that. No fancy tricks just the nasty shit I asked for. You do that and we both get what we want.” 

She kept at it without hesitation, her mouth working steadily over every inch he gave her. Spit ran in heavy streams down his thick dick and over his heavy balls, soaking the front of his pants where they hung open. Her tongue pressed flat and eager, dragging wet and thorough each time she pulled back before sinking forward again. No resistance left in the way she moved, just the steady rhythm he had set for her. 

“You really can’t stand me, huh? Always got that look like you wanna slap the smirk off my face. But here you are again, lips stretched around my dick like it’s the only thing that shuts you up. Every single time you swear this the last…you end up on your knees. Can’t leave it alone, can you?” 

He rocked his hips forward once, testing how deep she would take it on her own. She did, throat working around the head without pulling away. More spit bubbled out and dropped onto the floor between his feet. Stack laughed, thumb brushing the corner of her stretched mouth. 

“Look at this mess you making. All ‘cause you can’t stay away from what you claim to hate. I tell you to get sloppy and you do it like it’s second nature. Follow every word I give you, even when you glaring at me with those sharp eyes. You hate how easy it is. Hate that you keep coming back for more of this.” 

The club music thumped somewhere beyond the VIP curtain, but in here it was only the sound of her wet lips and his voice laying out every contradiction. 

“You walk ‘round like nobody can touch you, but the second I tell you to open up you turn into this. Can’t stand me, yet you can’t stop sucking me off every chance you get. Makes me wonder what you’d do if I told you to stop right now. Bet you’d keep goin’ anyway, just to prove you can walk away whenever you want. We both know better.” 

Stack rose to his full height, glass in hand, the ice clinking as he took a slow sip. He looked down at her on her knees, eyes locked on the way her lips stayed wrapped around him. 

“No hands,” Stack commanded. “Just that mouth. Work it like you mean it. All jaws, no shortcuts.” 

She adjusted without a word, hands dropping to her sides. Her jaw flexed as she pushed forward, taking more of him in one steady glide. She moved like she knew exactly how to angle it, cheeks hollowing on each pull, tongue pressing hard along the underside with every stroke. 

Stack watched her, drink still in one hand while the other rested at his side. 

“That’s it. Suck that dick like the pro you are when nobody’s watching. Look at you, throat working overtime. You act like you hate my guts when we in public but in here you swallow every gahdamn inch of this dick like it’s your favorite meal.” 

Stack rocked his hips once, testing her rhythm, and she took it deeper without pulling back. More spit spilled over her bottom lip and ran down his balls. Stack chuckled, low and rough. 

“Admit it. You love this big dick. Say it while you got it stuffed in your mouth. Tell me how much you love choking on it every time you swear you done wit’ me.” 

She refused to give him that satisfaction with words but her jaw worked harder, the wet sounds filling the space between them. Stack took another sip, eyes never leaving her face. 

“Come on. I wanna hear it. You can’t leave this alone ‘cause you love how it fills your throat. You love gettin’ bullied while you drool all over it. Say the words.” Her pace stayed relentless, lips stretched tight. Stack tilted his head, voice turning sharper. “That’s my mean girl, keep going. Admit everything. How you can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout this dick even when you give me attitude. Say it loud enough so I know you mean it.” 

Stack held still, letting her drive the motion, watching every bob of her head and every flex of her throat as she worked him deeper. The club noise stayed muffled beyond the curtain while he sipped again, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. 

“Good girl. Now keep that mouth moving and tell me the rest. How bad you need it. How you hate yourself for loving every second of this.” 

Stack yanked his dick free from her throat, gripping the base and started smacking the heavy length across her face. Each slap landed with a wet thud, the head dragging over her cheek, across her lips, up to her forehead, leaving shiny streaks behind. He did it slow at first, then faster. Her eyes watered but she kept them open, staring up at him. 

“I can’t fucking stand you,” she rasped, voice thick and broken from how deep she’d been taking him. “But I love it. I love all of it. This big dick, the way it stretches my throat, how you make me kneel and take it. I love choking on every inch even when I swear I hate you.” 

Stack let out a low chuckle, the sound dark and amused. He slapped his dick harder against her cheek, then dragged it down to smack her chin. 

“Look at this pathetic face. Sayin’ you can’t stand me while my dick all over it. You love it so much you drooling just from the words. Go on, keep talkin’. Tell me how bad you need this dick you claim to hate.” 

He kept the pace going, smacking the thick shaft over her nose and lips, the wet slaps echoing in the VIP section. Spit flew with each strike. Her expression stayed wrecked, mouth open, tongue half out like she couldn’t help chasing it. 

“That’s right,” he mocked, voice smooth even as he bullied her with his dick. “Admit it all. You sneak around just to get treated like this. Can’t get enough of how I make you feel like nothin’ but a hole for me to use. Say it louder.” 

She swallowed, throat working, and kept going between the hits.

“I love this big dick more than anything. I love how you make me do this, how you don’t let me use my hands, how you laugh at me while I beg for it. I hate you but I can’t stop wanting every second of it.” 

Stack grinned, dimples flashing, and gave one final slap across both cheeks with his tip girth before pressing the head against her lips again. 

“Good. Now open up and prove it.” 

She proved it right away. Her lips parted wide and she took him back in, sucking hard and sloppy like she was desperate for some prize at the end. Her tongue worked the underside in fast strokes while she bobbed her head, cheeks sunken with every pull. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her dress as she pushed deeper, taking more of him without any hesitation.

Stack felt his dick swell thicker in her mouth, the head pulsing against her tongue as he got closer. He groaned low and gripped her hair tighter. 

“You want my nut that bad, huh? Look at you workin’ for it. Tell me where you want it. How bad you need it.” 

She pulled off just enough to speak, voice hoarse and frantic between licks. 

“And want it so bad, Stack. Give me that nut. I want it all over my face, down my throat, anywhere you say. I need it more than anything right now. Please, just cum for me.” 

Stack chuckled again, mocking and low. “Hold still then. Grab my glass and don’t spill a drop.” 

She reached up with one shaking hand and took the glass from him, holding it steady while he planted both palms on her head. Stack drove forward, fucking her throat in hard, steady thrusts. His hips snapped towards her face as he chased his release, using her mouth like it was made for exactly this. 

Stack’s body tensed hard, his hips jerking forward one last time before he yanked his dick free from her throat with a wet pop. Thick ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head, the first heavy spurt landing across her cheek and splattering up toward her eye in a hot, sticky line. More followed in powerful pulses, each one shooting out in long, creamy strands that painted her face white. His load was massive, costing her skin in heavy globs that dripped down her jaw and onto the neckline of her dress. 

His face twisted in raw pleasure, brows furrowed deep, full lips parted around a guttural groan that built into a low, drawn-out moan. His deep brown eyes narrowed to slits, lashes fluttering as his chest heaved, the veins in his neck standing out while he emptied himself with a stutter of his hips. Stack aimed the next burst lower, letting the cum land directly on her wiggling tongue as she held it out for him, the warm fluid pooling there in a thick puddle before overflowing down her chin. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He rasped, voice thick and taunting even as his dick twitched through the last shots. “Look at all that nut on your pretty face. You earned every drop, didn’t you?” 

She didn’t pull away, instead leaning in to suck the remaining cum from his still-hard length. Her lips sealing around the head and milking him clean with slow, tight pulls until nothing more came out. Stack watched her with a smirk, his hand still tangled in her hair as he praised her through the taunts.

“Good girl, swallowing what you can and wearing the rest like a badge. Such a nasty little slut for me, huh? Bet you love feeling it cool on your skin.” 

She rolled her eyes at him from her knees, the gesture full of attitude even with his cum streaking her face. Stack burst out laughing, the sound rich and amused as he tilted her chin higher with one finger. 

Perhaps expected considering that the two of you had met just a few weeks ago; you’d announced to your council that you were ready for marriage. And they’d then presented you with a list of all the potential candidates for husband—every eligible bachelor from the Kamo clan to the rather obscure Fujiwara clan. The list had gone on and on with their names and ages.

And at the very end you’d spotted—

Zenin Toji—Age: 38 (once divorced). 

As soon as the elders had noticed you focusing on that one name, they’d dismissed you with a nervous chuckle. “Oh, that’s just Toji. Ignore him, he’s just there out of obligation-”

“But why would I ignore him?”And that had effectively shut them up.

Although what you really wanted were more answers.

Toji.

Toji.

Most of the other candidates ranged across their twenties, and they were names you’d heard of in mere passing during those stuffy clan functions. Toji, however, was beyond that age range and once divorced—and you’d heard of him almost too well. You knew him without ever knowing him.

You’d heard of the newly-appointed Zenin clan leader as he fought against every single elder to claim his rightful title as head - the first one since…ever without a speck of cursed energy.

You’d heard of the terror of the Zenin clan - or so they whispered - who could bring down battalions with a single swipe of his cursed weapons. He didn’t need cursed energy—and what they feared above all was the power of raw humanity underneath it.

But…you’d also heard of the merciful man. The first Zenin clan leader to grant his wife a divorce when she wished for it, thus leaving him printed once more upon a paper listing jujutsu society’s bachelors. 

Leaving him impressioned in your mind.

Zenin Toji was an enigma you wanted to understand.

And you laughed at the expressions upon your elders’ faces as you announced that the sole candidate you were interested in was none other than the notorious Toji. You could count on one hand how many had readily agreed to your union with the older man—and that would be exactly zero fingers. 

However, the meeting had proceeded as tradition dictated. Your council of elders reached out to the uptight council of the Zenins - and they’d reached out to re-confirm thrice that the man you were really looking for was Toji. Wasn’t he much older? Wasn’t he fearsome? Wasn’t he difficult to understand?

You waved off their worries and met him over a fragrant tea ceremony. 

To be quite honest; there wasn’t much talking between the two of you - although the Zenin elders kept up a constant stream of chatter with the elders of your own family. Meanwhile you simply looked at Toji over the rim of your ceramic cup—and—watched—

And he met your gaze just as intensely.

By the end of the tea ceremony, you nudged your elders to proclaim your approval for a union.

And Toji nodded his own approval.

The wedding preparations were accomplished in a week. It was a wedding for the history books - you heard that your council of elders were pushing to get it written in already - and it ended off with a lavish banquet that lasted into the long, long hours of the night. 

As sunlight started seeping into the horizon, you and Toji got up from your seats at the head of the table. And you made your way to the master bedroom—where rows upon rows of elders sat outside in preparation for the consummation.

They were here to hear you-

“Fuck.” You can’t stop the sudden whimper that escapes you at the feeling of Toji hiking up one of his muscular thighs. He still had his wedding robes on - dishevelled upon his frame, the graze of expensive Zenin cotton n’ silk makes you shiver—

And as soon as you do, you feel one of his large palms settle at the base of your spine.

Toji keeps you pinned down - deliciously helpless - once he reaches that upright leg forwards and rests his heel atop your scalp. Stepping on your sweaty crown. Keeping you pinned in one place as he fucks you- with a sheer audacity that makes your jaw drop.

“Careful.” Toji’s low tone trundles out. You’re bent into such a shape that it makes his cock thicker- stretchin’ out your snug channel with a sultry squeeeelch! “Keep your mouth open like that and you’ll catch flies.”

Leaning down as far as he could, he then spits.

“Or you’ll catch me.”

A few more vicious strokes that leave you gaping.

A few more changing angles- Toji was the type to not just straightly thrust. He was stirring his cock ‘round in somewhat circular motions of his hips as he pummeled inside, managing to hit eeeeevery single nerve-ended spot inside you. “And- hah, and we wouldn’t wanna explain that to those old toads, heh?” Asking you. And then…not you. “Isn’t that right, fuckers?”

There’s restless murmuring from outside. 

“W-well, maybe if you—fuuuuuck.” Just as soon as you’re mid-sentence - as though Toji had been waiting for this exact moment - he reaches forwards and slams! his ruddied tip into you hard enough that you can feel him in your damn throat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

“Loud.” Scoffing. “Though I bet they already know what’s happening- hah.”

You were in utter shambles. 

Toji’s cock was sensually curved towards the right - the perfect angle to spot those areas where you were most sensitive and stimulate them until you were crying. “Y-you’re so shameless—!”

With a roll of his forest-green eyes, the clan leader crouches his body further forwards and accelerates his pace. His heel pressing down even harder.

With this position he had you in, Toji couldn’t keep his palm glued to your drivelling maw anymore. And he was letting it aaaaaall out—the more n’ more pretty moans that were leaving you, the more he’s speeding up his hips. Purposefully thumping his blushin’ red tip down your most precious spots. 

And as if that wasn’t enough, he’s using his free hand to sift apart your stuffy pussy. Pressin’ aside your folds and getting a good eyeful of your entrance - getting flooded with his rock-hard inches, and then emptied out for him to do it all over again. And again. And again and again and—“And who was it that decided to marry me?”

You don’t know what’s hitting you harder: the shock of being called out, or the sudden wad of saliva that he’s spitting between your legs. “Well…me…”

Toji nods. “Pretty young thing like you…for what reason could you want to marry- me-” Every space between his words was punctured with a targeted strike to your g-spot. “Money? Name? Power?”

Your head’s getting foggy - you don’t even realize that you’re drooling before Toji looks down and tuts. He watches as a slick puddle formulates underneath you—“Did you wanna marry this ol’ clan leader for power, doll? S’that what you wanted?”

As much as you could, you’re shaking your head- difficult, given the way he still had the heel of his foot on you.

“No? Then what?” Toji pretends to think. “Hmmm, could it be that your clan elders pressured you into this, doll?” And just at that moment, he stops- even though it seems as if he wanted to say more. “I’ll kill you all if—”

It wasn’t targeted towards you. 

But you’re vehemently denying—“No. No. Not at all…” Sobs and sultry moans strangle in your throat, and your poor, poor hips are driving back into his as much as you could. “Please- oh, I j-just wanted—”

“Let me think.” Now that he’d started his vigorous pace up again, your eardrums were crackling with the constant pap-pap-pap! of Toji’s toned hips hitting yours. He was just so large - in every possible way, it was as though he was engulfing you with his massive body, with his shaft stretchin’ out your insides in ways you’ve never experienced before. “Is it because- haaaaah…” Toji breathes, the cloud of his heated breath wafting down your arched spine. “Is it because you knew that those other- boys couldn’t fuck you as well as I could?”

Your jaw drops- “Fuck.”

But it seems that Toji had found his footing. He drags you even harder against him - the ramming of your two bodies almost violently shaking the flooring beneath. “Is it because you knew that- mmm, this pussy would always be satisfied with me?” Whatever little jostling you’re experiencing at his movements, he’s considering it a nod. “Is it because you’d been greedy? Because you’ve been yearning-”

Somehow, he’s tipping his head backwards and managing to perfect a stream of spit down onto your stuffed cunt.

“-for someone more mature. Someone that knows how to handle a pussy, doll?” Voice dipped in lust. “Have you been yearning for Zenin Toji to fuck you properly?”

“Y-yes—” You pitch out softly. Sniffling. Seeing stars behind your eyelids. “Toji, m’so close…”

“So cum, then?” He snickers, as though it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “What’re you waiting for? Permission?” Leaning back and projecting his voice - though, not for you. “Just so y’know, I’m gonna make my wife cum.” 

“Oh-oh my god—” The words crackle in your throat as a final bash to your syrupy-sweet spot leaving you careening into your high. Stars of pleasure burst behind your shuttered lids - and you’re dragged through wave upon wave of white-hot bliss. 

It overtakes you like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

And Toji was only more than happy to prolong them using his length. Hitting you right when your peaks were at their highest - and if you were in the right state, then you’d wonder how he even managed to time them - and making your veins feel molten within. Making you whimper and thrash into him. Thrashing and thrashing—fucked like you’ve never been before through your orgasm.

You’re so hazy afterwards that you barely even register the shuffling outside the bedroom - as the elders started making their way back to the banquet. Mission accomplished, you suppose.

And Toji takes his foot off your head. 

“Haaaaah, fuck.” He hisses. “Want to give them an encore, my wife?”

You couldn’t nod faster.

Before you know it, he’s tipping his head back and calling out - at the elders—

“Get ready for an encore, fuckers.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Parent-teacher DATING?!

“Ms. Teacher…” 

Itadori’s sweet, sweet voice breaks through your conversation with one of the parents; and you’re looking down to see him clasping one end of your flower-patterned apron. Pink brows furrowed. Chubby cheeks puffed. And how could anyone resist that face?

So throwing an apologetic smile at the parent, you’re leaning down slightly so that you could hear the little boy better. “Yes, Yuji?”

He cups a hand over his mouth then leans in towards your ear as if to whisper. “I have a secret to tell you.” And he does not whisper.

Still, you bite back a giggle and ask. “Oh, really? How exciting. Do I get to know that secret, Yuji?”

He nods.

Then leans in once more-

“My papa has a big, big crush on y-”

“Yuji—!”

You didn’t have to look up to see that it was none other than Nanami Kento, Itadori’s father, pushing past a few gossiping parents and kids playing jumprope- heading in your direction. He quickly clasps Itadori’s arm and gently tugs the boy away, “I am so, so sorry—I have no idea what’s gotten into him-” Nanami pinches the top of his nosebridge with a sigh. “He seems to have gotten it into his head that I have f-feelings for you, and…”

You watch, almost astounded, as the ever-stoic Nanami’s ears burn bright red.

“A-and I sincerely apologize if he made you uncomfortable in any way-”

“Oh, no.” You’re raising your hands up and fervently shaking your head. “He didn’t make me uncomfortable at all. Did you, Yuji?”

“Yup!” Those tufts of pink hair atop his head bounce as he nods as well, beaming - happy to see that you were on his side, at the very least. He then turns back to Nanami. “I didn’t make Ms. Teacher uncomfortable, papa. I just told her what you told me-”

“Sunshine…” Nanami grumbles, though with less panic in his voice this time.

And you’re biting back a smile as you look between the handsome father and his son; it’d been two years since Nanami had adopted Itadori, according to what the man had told you when he’d first enrolled the boy in Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary. Since then, you’ve had the privilege of watching over the father-son duo as they become closer, as they found family in one another, as they opened themselves up to both the school and you. 

And although you knew you shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher - you can’t deny that one of the best parts of your day was seeing the two. 

Yes, the two.

It didn’t quite help that Nanami Kento was the talk amongst the single ladies and men at pick-up. Tall. Tender. With his broad shoulders and his blond hair—always slicked back, not even a single strand out of line. 

Nanami was the type of man to hold doors open for students, other parents, and teachers alike - he’d happily stand there for half an hour as an entire grade passed by, if he had to.

Nanami was the type of man to not worry about what anyone thought of him as he let his energetic son paste stickers all over him, or use the play make-up he’d snagged from Kugisaki.

Nanami was the type of man to buy you a large bouquet of roses for Teacher’s Day- roses. And he’d apologized for at least fifteen minutes about not meaning any sort of innuendo, and he’d completely understand if you didn’t want to take them—you’d cut him off then n’ there by taking them with a gracious thank you. Even if others at pick-up shot you knowing smiles. 

So could you blame yourself if you happened to form a crush on the man?

And hearing what Itadori had to say about it now…

“I wouldn’t mind, y’know.” You speak once you’d ushered Itadori to play with some of his friends—Fushiguro and Kugisaki had just been dropped off. And Nanami was still standing next to you, watching as his son scampered off after causing perhaps the most chaos he’s ever experienced in his life. 

But ah…your voice was low enough that it couldn’t be heard by anyone around you two. Perhaps not even Nanami himself- but of course, he heard.

Of course, he heard.

He turns to you with widened eyes, “I uh…I- excuse me?”

You turn back to him with a grin, “How about coffee sometime this week?”

“I have a better plan.” As soon as the first bout of shyness wears off, he’s clearing his crackling throat and answering you. “How about dinner?”

.

.

.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuh-fuck.” Nanami wrenches between clenched teeth. His hot breath sticks against the side of your throat; and every single puff makes your skin erupt with perspiration. 

Which worked for him—it just let the movements between your two ravenous bodies proceed even faster, slipperier, sloppier. Nanami has you pressed flat against his neat mattress, in a bedroom that was humble and meticulously organized - and with Itadori at Fushiguro’s for a sleepover, the two of you could let those ancient bedsprings creak as much as they liked. 

Nanami could fuck you as hard as you liked.

He’s grinding that golden happy trail into your front; both palms pressed flatly atop your inner thighs to keep them open. To keep you stretched as faaaaar apart as you could go—because fuck- Nanami’s cock was thick enough that he had to pin you down n’ squeeeeeeze his inches inside as far as they could go. 

Rubbin’ his prominent veins along your walls. Entire body tensing up whenever you clench-

“Fuuuuuuck.” With a heavy sigh, he’s letting his head tip backwards. And honestly—you don’t think you’d ever seen a more attractive sight. 

You’ve always known that Nanami was ripped underneath those office button-ups of his - but this was damn-near Herculean. The way his shoulders were defined and pulled taut as they closed in on you, the way his chest was absolutely luscious—you almost wanted to take a bite. And you’d guessed that with energetic Itadori as a son, he hadn’t had the time to hit the gym lately.

Because there was a layer of thickness over his muscles that left Nanami softer and stronger- the soft curve of his belly pushes down on your core. 

Jostling your body back n’ forth with every honed thrust.

Banging at the back of your cervix and your throat- “Fuck. It feels so good, Kento.” 

“S-soooooo fucking good.” And you wonder which one of you two was more gone on your syrupy cunt: you or him. Nanami struggles to keep his damn head up- collapsing into the crook of your neck and letting out botched groans- every single time his sensitive tip slid uuuuuup your channel into its deepest depths. He almost sounded as though he was in pain as he wept—“F-forgive me, darling.”

Perking your head off the plush pillows, “What for, Kento?”

“Well it’s just…” And his foggy glasses were still on his face - which Nanami pushes up his nose bridge. “I haven’t felt this good in—forever. So forgive me if I’m a little…”

And then he’s surging his hips forwards and giving you a good thwack! with the rounded end of his shaft. Enough to make stars appear in your vision-

“-rough.”

And then it’s like the floodgates have opened.

Because Nanami’s grip on you grows hard enough to leave fucking nail marks, his sweat splashes with the urgency of his movements. “And I wanted to f-fuck you all niiiiiice and slow like this pretty pussy deserves.” Those strong arms keep manhandling you open as he shovels straight into you. “W-wanted to show you that a mature man like me could- hngh, make you feel the best you’ve ever felt.”

“But I already do…” You huff out, arms thrown needily around his neck. 

Yet Nanami doesn’t seem to hear—he doesn’t even seem to register. At least, the only acknowledgement that you get of your response is the way his body flinches ever-so-slightly at the mere sound of your voice. “And yet…” Those hazel-brown eyes of his widen as they run down your body, ultimately resting where your pussy was bloated all ‘round him. “And yet, one kiss of these pretty lips and I’m done for.”

“D-done for…” You repeat - mostly because you don’t know what else to do.

Don’t know what else you’re capable of doing other than wrapping your weak legs around his waist. Your hamstrings stretch and scream; and you’re sobbing yourself as his pace seems to accelerate.

“I can feel myself…” Nanami speaks through a watery mouth. “-getting fucking addicted—shit, like some hormonal punk. I should know better. A man my age…”

“Oh- oh, Kento.”

“I should know better- I should fucking know better.” He admonishes himself - though that doesn’t stop or even slow down the feral pap-pap-paps! of his pelvis hitting yours. Through scrunched-up eyes, he’s gazing upon you. “C-can’t believe you got some old man like me-” Despite your instant protests. “-to finally break.”

After a few more sudden strikes - almost animalistic - you’re managing to string together enough syllables. “But…I don’t mind, Kento.”

And that—that might just be the one thing that makes him falter. “Pardon?” He blinks up at you with glazed-over eyes.

Nodding, “I promise I don’t mind.” In fact, you’re tugging him in with a fistful of his blond strands between your fingers. “I- ngh! want you to go even harder…if you can-”

“Of course I can, my love.” The both of you are startled by his instant answer. “I-I mean, if you know that it means I might leave a few marks and—even more marks.” Perhaps most notably on your spongy cervix, welcoming his bashing thrusts.

But you don’t mind. Like you said.

You’re nodding even harder, “Yes, please.”

So polite. How could he ever refuse?

And in the blink of an eye, the blond-haired man leans over to clasp that patterned tie draped over his bedpost. It’d gotten thrown there sometime after the frenzy of getting home - quite convenient for when Nanami wanted to throw it loosely over his clammy neck and give you the other end to hold onto—

“Don’t be afraid to pull if it gets too much.” He puffs out at you in a breezy breath.

“Too much?” You ogle up at his handsome face. You half-jokingly wondered whether the bed - and perhaps you - would be in one piece by the time that Itadori gets home tomorrow. It was going to be a never-ending night…

“Mhm, because this is going to be rough, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Controversy.

WHO IS ROCKSTAR HEARTTHROB GETO SUGURU’S GIRLFRIEND? HOW CAN WE BE HER?!

GOLD DIGGER?! BASSIST OF 6EYES SHUTS DOWN MALICIOUS RUMORS SURROUNDING BEAU: SAYS THEY ARE ‘BULLSHIT’. 

DILF OFF THE MARKET: GETO SUGURU CONFIRMS RELATIONSHIP OF ‘YEARS’ HE SAYS. 

Everyone knew of Geto Suguru. Or so it seemed when they were screaming his name and cursing yours—everyone wanted to be with him. 

Or be him.

Who wouldn’t? Thick rings. Grey-black hair. Feline smile.

A 6’2, long-haired dreamboat that just-so-happened to be the bassist of the hottest rock band on the charts right now: 6Eyes. They’d been discovered quite early on - when they’d just been out of high school, actually - and had maintained a steady presence in the music scene ever since. Shattering record after record and filling stadium after stadium. By the time you’d gone with some of your college friends to one of their concerts, they were already titans in the industry—and you’d been an instant fan. 

So imagine your surprise when your friend announced that one of the security had invited your group backstage. 

That was the night you’d met Geto Suguru - you’d locked eyes and the both of you had just known.

You signed that NDA. You met for dates under disguises. And you’d even met his young adopted daughters- oh, you adored them.

Several months later, when TMZ or some other site had broken the story of Geto secretly dating a fan over ten years younger than him - and that was when scandal ensued. The fandom was rabid—and you understood.

Though Geto, who was rather used to biting headlines and speculation, told you that the whole thing would blow over soon enough- you holed up in your shared penthouse. You turned off your social media notification. You tried not to turn on any celebrity news channel. 

And you decided: the very least you could do is make a good first impression…

“Easy now…easy there…” Geto holds the recorder in one hand n’ the side of your hips in his other. You’re maddeningly aware of both the rolling tape and the way his puckered, pretty tip is getting guided to your entrance—“Don’t strain yourself now. Trust Suguru.”

Just the very first inch of it slipping lusciously between your pussylips and easing inside.

Geto was always so thick, donning numerous veins that creep up the sides of his shaft in zig-zagging patterns. And the sheer girth of him intruding is enough to make you gasp-

“Mmm, that’s good.” The older man murmurs with a smile- long, greying hair forming a curtain around the two of you. “Let’s try again. A little louder this time.” Before he reels his hips back the mere inches he’s squeezed inside, and then rammin’ right back in again - it sounds the loudest squelch! as you’re taking even more of him. “Ohhhh, that’s good. Maybe I can use that as the outro, heh?”

“Maybe just use it for the entire ch-chorus.” You hiss.

“Trying to take my spotlight?” Geto leans down to kiss your swollen lips- or so you think. He’s pressing his pierced mouth against yours and gnawin’ down on your lower lip.

“Scared of- mmpf. Scared of being ousted by the young new talents?”

The edges of his lips curling upwards. “A rock veteran like me? Oh, I don’t think I have anything to be scared of…”

And you can only moan straight into his greedy, greedy maw as you’re jostled back and forth. Geto’s thrusts were oh-so-merciless and puncturing deeeeep into your womb—using the smooth Prince Albert’s piercing atop his flared tip, he’s torching every hidden spot and nerve-end inside. Mazin’ around your walls and pushing into those little ridges that just made your back arch into him-

His eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles. 

“Hey hey-” The only thing snapping you out of your frenzy is Geto’s sharp tuts. He stalls your restless hips by hooking his fingers into your thighs and throwing them over his broad shoulders- dragging you back into him. “Don’t run away, gorgeous—the studio session’s not over yet.”

“I wasn’t running away.” You huff.

“Sure seemed like it to me.” He grins - that silver piercing of his glinting in the dim lighting. It was the type of Cheshire-cat grin that you knew wouldn’t bode well for you…and as soon as you’re thinking about it, Geto opens his sensual mouth and spits—straight between your lips.

The wad lands softly on your tongue.

And Geto himself reaches a second ringed hand up to close your jaw- to urge you to swallow. “Remember to keep those vocals hydrated, gorgeous. We’re getting to the good part now.”

You think you could gasp at the audacity—but what’s leaving you instead are a series of long, lewd moans. Mewls. Pleas. 

He’s drawing them out over and over again by hiking your thighs up his shoulders and pressing you into a mean mating press- lunging his body down into yours. Crushing your pliable self underneath him. Slashing your cervix with loooooong thrusts and his ropey precum puddling sweetly at the back of your pussy.

“Yeah- yeah, louder now.” Pushing the recorder even closer. “Louder, girl.”

“I am—oh.” With the way he was fucking you like he almost hated you - though it was rather the opposite - your sentences warble with hiccups and gasps. The lines of his veins were somehow massaging the exact hidden spots that drove you wild. 

“You got this.”

“Fuck-”

“Louder. S’just you and me.” This was exactly what he wanted to hear - his favorite melody was you. “Just a bit of chopping up n’ remixing- this is perfect. Gonna sound so fuckin’ pretty to my bass.”

“Fuh-feels so good-”

“Mhmmm, I know, gorgeous. Now let the listeners know.” 

Making your noise pitch upwards in volume. 

After a few more strokes, he bores down at you with a thoughtful expression. “Now…why don’tcha try calling me ‘Sugu’ for the recording?”

“You want me to be sappy? Okay, rockstar.” You’re unable to bite your tongue fast enough- though your snapping only makes him even more excited.

Amethyst eyes glistening. “Oh, don’t be a diva just yet, newbie.” The older musician brings the audio recorder closer to catch your every breath, “Trust me. I’ve been in this industry for a loooooong time- c’mon now. Listen to your- heh, vocal coach—say ‘Sugu’.”

How you loved riling him up just as much as he did to you. “Then give me something good to moan for, baby.”

“Don’t test my patience, superstar.”

Though he does as you say. 

You should have expected it all the same; the rockstar had mapped out every single good spot inside you. And it was with a near-photographic memory that he’s inching his length backwards- until it was just his lavish red tip lickin’ up your entrance.

Just for a second…just for two…

Before slamming into your g-spot so hard n’ suddenly that you almost sob.

Making your cunt mold to the exact texture of his circular piercing- hitting your sensitive area first, before then pushing his smooth tip into it as well. You’re feeling every bit of him—and you’re making sure that your future audiences can hear it, too. 

“S-Sugu—!” You’re thrashing in his arms- and he’s crashing and crashing his hips into you. Gluing the heated, stinging pink skin of his pelvis against yours so ferally that you can’t keep up with his pace no matter how fast you’re attempting to buck and bounce.

“Oh, that one’s going in the intro for sure.” He titters. 

“S’fucking mean.” You whimper as he pushes down on your lower half - purposefully, so that his scruffy happy trail scratches your clit.

“Sugu knows best.” So sweetly, he kisses your forehead—and you wonder whether the loud smacking sound that he leaves behind is more for the recorder or to make you squirm. Shy, much? “Now how about I fuck you pregnant n’ we just announce the baby on the album?”

You pause for a second - before a smile twitches at your lips. “A rockstar baby? You read my mind.”

He reciprocates. “Always knew you were made f’me.”

The headlines were sure to love this.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - MY UNCLE’S GF?!

Someone had suggested playing two truths and a lie:

You weren’t a lot older than Choso- at least in his eyes. That didn’t matter to him.

Choso has always wanted you.

He’s over that now, though.

Choso’s palms are sweaty ‘round his lightweight beer as he utters the words; words just a little louder than he intended them to be. Maybe that was the pre-game finally kicking in—but he couldn’t blame it on that, either. Had it been called three truths and a lie, then Choso would have also confessed that he was stone-cold sober as he murmurs two of his deepest secrets to the little circle of drunk college kids. 

And you.

You…you’re looking at him like you’d already guessed he’d say that.

Had he really been that obvious? Choso first met you three years ago, during his sophomore year in college, when he’d gone home for the holidays—and discovered that, this year, Sukuna had been dragged home, too. Except…his uncle hadn’t come alone this time.

He’d brought along- you. 

You were the one to greet him at the door—and Choso remembers his breath catching in his chest. He remembers feeling his heart bang against his ribcage. He remembers his eyes widening- and his mouth gaping stupidly as you introduced yourself.

So caught up in you, he’d been forced to ask Sukuna for your name again-

“Back off.” His uncle had scoffed, crimson eyes narrowing. Honestly - Ryomen Sukuna was the only person alive that could make cotton candy-pink hair look intimidating. “Don’t think I don’t see the way yer looking at her.”

He’d probably stammered something intelligible-

“Look all ya want- if she feels uncomfortable, she’ll thump ya herself. But you can’t touch.” Sukuna set his beer bottle down. “M’actually serious about this one.”

And Choso could see why - you were the first person that Sukuna had ever brought into the Itadori family home. You were smart. You were funny. You weren’t afraid to put the pink-haired man in his place. You were fucking gorgeous—

And…you were Sukuna’s girlfriend. Ten years older than Choso.

Which is why - no matter how badly you made his heart flutter - Choso had vowed to never, never so much as even think to act upon his feelings for you. 

He just had to grit his teeth and avoid prolonged conversation with you during every family function and gathering you attended with Sukuna- of which the man was making an appearance at every single one now. Almost as though to provoke him even more. 

And Choso was forced to make peace with the fact that he’d never make peace with his feelings.

That is…until the two of you broke up.

He’d heard news about it just a few weeks ago, actually- his father had said something about Sukuna being down in the dumps after you’d broken up with him. Something about not making enough time and drifting apart—Choso hadn’t heard the details, he’d been too overwhelmed with the guilty glee that’d shot through his body and made his heart pound. And then just tonight - oh, how he wished he could kiss whoever was looking down at him (but no, that was saved for you…) - Choso just-so-happened to run into you at the bar he was attending with his friends.

So of course he had to invite you over to their table.

Of course, he had to ignore your protests about being older than them all. None of that shit mattered. 

Of course, he had to sit right opposite you on the table and divulge his greatest secret - one he’d been keeping to himself for three years now.

You’re just opening your mouth to respond-

When Choso’s feeling a harsh smack! on his back and one of his friends crowing in his ear. “Atta boy! You never struck me as the type to like MILFs, man.”

“Technically I’m not a MILF yet.” You giggle, fixating your gaze upon him. He almost flinches. “But you’re right…I never thought you’d be the type to like older women. I’m ten years older than you, Choso, you know that right?”

Choso mumbles almost too quietly to hear. “Th-that doesn’t matter to me…”

“Yeah- and you’d probably like that ‘ma’am’ shit, eh?” His friend guffaws, making the now-bashful Choso - whatever courage he had liquified - duck his head. “Oh- sorry I didn’t mean—”

“No, no.” You dismiss the babbling college boy. “I’m not offended at all. In fact, you might be right.”

The table bursts into wolf whistles-

And it’s a blur until you’re ragging with the banter a little more - before discreetly excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. Choso’s staring up at you - totally not admiring your back like some pathetic lovesick fool - before catching your gaze and your pointed wink.

And then he’s scrambling right after you. As discreetly as a sledgehammer.

.

.

.

Nose buried into the crook of your neck. Mouth gaped wide open- letting out the sweetest crackling moans into your skin. 

Choso had you pushed against the bathroom stall - clean, don’t you worry - with his arms wrapped around your body n’ his cock shoved between your legs. Dragging in and out in a way that was so messy—he’s roverin’ around his globules of cum with that fat tip of his, and then reeling his hips rapidly backwards to spray it down your walls over and over.

He’d cum as soon as he’d put it inside.

And it wasn’t his fault.

Honest! 

“Oh- oh.” And now he was panting desperate breath after breath between thrusts—“I’m sorry…the condom broke, baby.” Choso’s lower lip cutely trembles as he speaks. “Can’t help it. And then your pussy’s just so warm and welcoming a-and…”

His breath hitches as he hits that one gluttonous spot that makes you clench.

“-and I just- can’t- when you’re squeezing me like that.”

Basically hypnotized, Choso’s slender fingers dip down between your legs. And so swiftly - that you’re almost surprised at his nimbleness - he pulls out of your wet hole n’ clasps his hand around his barely-wrapped length. The rubber condom had been too tight around him, and it’d shattered into a million pieces—Choso looks up at you through his doe-like lashes, and waits until you’re nodding.

That’s when he’s wringing off his broken condom and squeezing out whatever wetness it held. Pushing out the cum back onto your pussy. 

Making such a mess. 

Those pure-white droplets that end up splattered back down on your pussy- warm and utterly unwholesome. A sinful cover. He wasn’t leaving a single ounce wasted. “Sh-shit.” Choso’s mouth gapes wide open. “It’s all your fault…”

Just the cutest trickle of saliva makes its way down his lips - and you’re reaching upwards to wipe it away. “Awwww. Ever done it raw before, Cho?”

After a brief bout of hesitation, he shakes his head.

“I’ve never done it before.” He confesses. Your eyes widen, so he was a virgin…

“Then are you sure you can handle it, baby? No need to push yourself if-”

“No.” He gasps. Sharp. Shot-through. It leaves his lips before he even knows what’s happening- and then you’re clenching again in a way that makes his brows twist together, and his fingers dig into your waist. “No, no, no, no-” Eyes frenzied. “We don’t have to stop f’me, baby. We don’t even have to slow down—”

Cum-coated; his thickened cock gets sandwiched between your lips then jerked back and forth a few times. By now he was so wet with slick n’ sap that it was making him slip a few times before he’s actually managing to get it in again—and that, too, with your help. 

You reach down to help grip Choso’s raging-hot erection, and guide it inside your cunt: an action that leaves the other man blushing down to the roots of his hair. Even his tip throbs just a little harder—“Th-thank you, ma’am.”

Your brows raise in amusement- and it only hits him then. So he was into the ‘ma’am’ thing.

“I mean- baby.” He sounds so utterly ruined. “Thank you, baby. Promise I can handle it now, m’kay?”

And oh…you can’t deny that it was just so fun to tease him. “Hmmm…I dunno, Choso-”

Chocolate-brown bangs sticking to your skin, he’s lurching his face away to bore straight into your eyes. “I-is it because I’m younger?” He asks with a hint of desperation, and your lips part as your ex’s hot nephew keeps steamrolling away with his pussydrunken mouth. Poor, poor Choso. “Because I promise I can handle it. I can fuck you- ngh, the best. Promise m’gonna make you feel sooooo—”

Choso’s hips were hammerin’ away at a pace you’d never have suspected- and his hips end up crushed against yours. So close that the scruff of his happy trail scratches your clit raw.

“-g-good.” A single tear track runs down his face - you’re unsure whether he’s talking about you or himself.

“Easy there, tiger.” You’re pushing back on a stray lock of his hair- darker now with perspiration. The sweet gesture makes Choso huffs. 

It wasn’t doing him any favors, however, as that only made him look even cuter. You’re craning your neck and planting a chaste peck on his bubblegum-pink lips—only for Choso to take control of the kiss and softly bite down on your bottom lip. “Baby-” He rasps. And with just how sweet Choso had always been to you, you could’ve almost forgotten how strong he was- how easily he could bounce you down on his cock- how needy he was for you. Feral. Even though you had him wrapped ‘round your finger, he was jostling your pussy’s inside like craaaazy. “Don’t do that. Don’t baby me- I need to be taken- ngh, s-seriously by you, m’kay?”

“Oh…” You’re letting out a heated breath as his tip empties out at your cervix.

And to prolong that sensation; Choso claws his hand up and pushes on the lower part of your stomach. Right beneath where your cunt was expanding and contracting with his cock. “Feel how big I am?” He doesn’t stop putting pressure on that spot until you’re nodding - “How hard? How much I’m leaking?” Just on cue, a splatter! of precum leaks between your pussylips.

And with something like a broken whimper- Choso snakes his fingers down to push the leakage back up your channel. 

“O-oh—this pussy’s so fuckin’ wet. And I can handle it- I can handle it.” He utters more to himself. The more he’s speaking, the harder and longer he’s fucking you, the more ruined he sounds. “M’not as innocent as you think, baby.”

“Oh? Do tell.” You smile.

Such a gorgeous, gorgeous smile that he almost hesitates wiping away with a roll of his thumb - stimulating the nerves of your clit. But it makes you break out into the prettiest lewd expression that leaves him rutting his hips even harder, “Do you have any idea how fuh-fucking long I’ve waited for this? How badly I’ve wanted to- ngh, stuff my cock and fuck you like an animal?” As he trails off, he feels his stinging tip start to twitch even more wildly. Dangerously. “Fuck—”

“H-how long?” You’re asking with a smug smirk.

Choso’s blinking a few times just to let the question register- and finally muttering. “Even when you were dating- him. Ever since I first saw you…” And then he rubs his thumb at an even more steadied pace, matching it to the pushes of his spearing cock. “You were wearing that red dress of yours- hah, and I could see the strap of your pretty pink bra peaking out…the one with the bows on-”

That makes you gasp.

Which Choso takes advantage of to plaster his lips against yours n’ suckle on your tongue. 

“And then-” Barely managing out through kisses- through stabs of his length- through the pleasure. “And then you called me ‘baby’ as you were getting ready to leave, and I- ngh, knew you were teasing me for being younger—fuck, I h-had to run to the bathroom just to jerk off.”

Rovering his mushroomy trip straight into your nerve-ended g-spot; you’re arching into his chest as you feel Choso lose his grip on his sanity.

Already having been so loose.

He’s babbling as he cums long and hard, and oh-so-deeeeeply into your cunt. Mouth ajar. Body collapsing against yours - caging you even further against the bathroom wall. “Baby- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Shit, so much…” Just feeling the ribbons upon ribbons of creamy-white sap he was emptying out. Hot. hypnotizing. Every stroke managed to hit your best spots, and every push meant your pussy was getting overloaded with his cum. The inches of his shaft were curved just perfectly enough that he’s managing to slip aside your walls and use his tip to circle and circle those webs of cum at the very base of your pussy. All over. 

Soon enough, you’re feeling a layer of it make its way down your inner-thighs—and Choso still didn’t seem like he was going to stop anytime soon. You moan, “H-how can you cum this much- mmpf.”

He captures your lips in another sloppy kiss. “Must be the stamina of a younger guy.”

“Choso you’re pussydrunk.” You’ve never heard him sound so drawling and dreamy.

“Hmmmm…” He’s nuzzling the crook of your neck, leaving bite marks that will be entirely too difficult to explain when you’re going back outside. “Did you cum? Promise I can- ngh, make you cum, too…” Grazing your skin with his lips.

“Prove it, then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 6…9?

“It’s a fuckin’ pandemic, isn’t it?”

You’re looking at your boyfriend over the rim of your book, “Excuse me?”

Sukuna was seated on the armchair in the corner of your bedroom; just having finished a video call with his brother and his nephew. The bright chatter (at least from their end) had died down some minutes ago, and they’d bid your boyfriend goodnight—which was rather the same routine for these biweekly calls. Despite how much the two of you visited, Itadori Yuji always found it too hilarious to put strange filters on his grumpy uncle.

Except, tonight…Sukuna had sat in the armchair for a few minutes longer.

Usually; he would join you in bed.

Usually; he would grumble - though with a fond smile on his face - about whatever Yuji had been chattering about before. 

He was practically an honorary father to the boy, and it always made you smile to see. 

Usually; he wouldn’t look up at you as expressionless as if he’d seen a ghost- as if his soul had wafted away. And ask you about some…pandemic? Did Yuji put something in his head again?

At the confused expression on your face, Sukuna was heaving out a sigh—pushing up those glasses that were totally, most definitely not glasses and merely a tool he uses to…see…better up his handsome nosebridge. Sukuna was in his late thirties, and silver was beginning to tinge the edges of his pink hair, climbing up his temples. His crows’ feet creased as he frowned at you, “The…67 thing. It’s a pandemic.”

“67 thing?” You gape, your book plopping down on the bed. 

“You heard me.” He scoffs. “I’ve been thinking it’s mass hysteria- every brat at his kindergarten keeps repeating it. But there seems to be no pattern or cohesion. I thought it was just those damn kindergarteners, but the other day I even caught Jin saying it-”

“S-six…seven…thing.” You’re repeating - for no reason other than to confirm to yourself that what you’re hearing was real.

Sukuna straightens in his chair, “See? Now it’s got you—”

“Kuna, like the meme?” You’re shaking your head, “The one from the song? Oh my god, it’s not mass hysteria-”

He crinkles his nose. “The hell is a…meme?”

“You don’t know what a—” How has he been Yuji - of all people’s - uncle but still had no idea? You continue, “It’s basically an Internet inside joke- it’s been over for a while now but the kids are still obsessed with it.” Finally gripping your book once more, you level him a look. “You didn’t seriously think it was mass hysteria, did you, Kuna?”

Sukuna crosses his bulky arms and looks away. “Tch—”

And when he catches you giggling, he barks-

“What?!”

“Oh- nothing.” And from the smile upon your lips - Sukuna knew that whatever was coming out of your mouth next wasn’t about to be anything sincere. 

Which is why he’s raising himself off the sofa and climbing up the foot of your bed.

You continue, “It’s just you’re getting old, Kuna.”

Joking; nothing ever riled Ryomen Sukuna up more than teasing him for not understanding some new slang or lyric. 

And with how much he riled you up sometimes—you had to get back at him somehow, alright?

Soon enough, he’s pinning you down to the bed - with his toned pelvis pressing down on your waist, and his arms creeping upwards to keep your wrists pushed against the mattress. “Say that shit again. I dare you.”

You’re leaning up as though to kiss him. “Old man.”

.

.

.

Sukuna’s tongue was zig-zagging wiiiiildly between your legs- striking the soft circle of your entrance and then swervin’ as deeply inside as it could go. Deeper. Deeper.

No matter how fervently his mouth was glued to your pussy. 

No matter how ravenously.

His hips rut off the bed with every single lick—and that fat, throbbing tip of his kept shovelling n’ shovelling at a synchronized pace with his tongue. 

He had you twisted in sixty-nine with your pussy latched onto his lips. 

Sukuna’s own cock squeezing out heavy volumes of his salty precum near your lips, then promptly pushin’ them inside with his thrusts- Sukuna was so loooong and rock-hard that he was managing to swab across every spot and directly target the back of your throat. Playing with that dangly in the back.

You’re moaning as he squeezes two ringed-decorated fingers into your tight cunt. And he grins as he feels the vibrations—“Ah ah- s’rude to talk with your mouth full.” 

Just then, Sukuna’s planting a smack! on your pussy that makes you pull off of his shaft with a loud pop! “H-hey…”

“What?” He trundles. Reaching his hips up and guiding his needy tip back into your mouth, “Speak.”

All because he knew that you’d attempt to nonetheless- and it would end up with the most lewd noises being muffled into this cock. It would end up with his eyes scrunching shut, his head throwing backwards at the shocks of pleasure. “Th-thought I told you to speak? Hah- not babble. Cock got your tongue or something?”

And…it would end up with you being all huffy n’ puffy. “That’s not even f-fair…”

“Heh- fair?” From where he’d been nipping at your clit, Sukuna pulls off - just to confirm he wasn’t hearing things. He wasn’t. And though you couldn’t see his expression from this angle, you could practically hear the amusement in his tone. “What happened to me being old, huh? You surely don’t need me to go easy on you.”

“I d-didn’t say that…” You’re stubbornly answering him - though the constant drives of his fingers were driving you absolutely mad. Sure. 

“Good.” And then you’re feeling two more consecutive smack-smacks! atop your bloated folds. “Because, babydoll…m’barely even started.”

In no time, Sukuna has you manhandled so that your stomach’s against the soft bed. Your back’s against his thoroughly toned front - so incredibly strong; he was bulky—with a layer of thickness to him that made your skin tingle with want - and his erect cock placed between your legs. He takes a few moments to wetten your core up- because no matter how many times you’ve taken him, you think you’ll never get used to Sukuna’s sheer size.

And before long you’re clawing onto the headboard for dear life—as he damn-near molds your tender cunt to his size. Startin’ at the tip-top of his bloated shaft, and then bouncing you down- down- down so many inches greedily. 

Utterly greedily. 

“Oh- oh, fuuuuuck.” Hands shooting forwards to grab onto more of the mahogany frame.

But Sukuna stops you right then n’ there by wrapping his right arm around your neck; like a wreath, your pants are immediately cut off. And his muscles bulge as they tighten—the defined ridges of his biceps pushing against your throat - it’s sensual enough to make your mouth water…“And where’d you think you’re going, huh?”

“Nowher- mmpf.” Cut off immediately by the tightening of his muscled restraint. 

“Lying’s not a good look, brat.” Then his second set of fingers snakes down to spank! your stuffed pussy- right atop your bloated folds. The shockwaves that run up your spine are enough to make you buck and whine—and enough to make him drag you back into him. Again and again. “Wasn’t stuffing this mouth earlier ‘nough to teach you a little lesson?”

So stubborn. “Not at all-”

He’s spitting straight between your lips.

And when Sukuna’s fucking you; it’s with harsh, pointed jabs - scouring deeeeep into the bottom of your pussy and leaving the mark of his cockhead. That rounded bruise you feel throb-throb-throbbin’ away every time he repeats the action—he fucks you like he hates you.

And he’s only growing faster, harder by the second.

Only tightening his headlock and wrenching your body back into his. Again and again.

Over and over.

Until the globes of your ass were stinging with impact, and you’ve memorized the pattern of his happy trail. It’s practically a part of you. 

Sukuna’s rugged cock knew aaaaall the right spots. Making your pupils roll around in the whites of your eyes, and leaving you wondering just how he had this much stamina still…“Awww, c’mon now.” His low voice trundles in your ears. “Get your act together, girl. You don’t wanna be this cockdrunk for someone so old, huh?”

“I-I—”

“What was it you called me?” He growls, sharp canines nipping at the shells of your ears. “Huh? What was it you called me? See, this fossil ‘ere has some trouble…remembering-”

Every syllable of his was punctured by a thorough glide across the velvety channel of your pussy- “Ummm, then in that case, I didn’t say anything?” You try your luck.

“Nice try.” Sukuna grins. “But m’not that geriatric yet.”

Another spank. “Please-”

“What did you call me?”

“I-I just meant-”

And another. “What did you call me?”

“An…old man.” You feel embarrassed just letting the words slip between your lips.

You didn’t think he could get even rougher with his movements - his shaft was throbbing, and his pelvis was smack-smack-smacking into you. So hard that you’re propelled forwards by the sheer force; and Sukuna roughly lurches you back with his headlock. “I might be an old man- cheh. I might not know all these…damn Internet memes- but I do know how to fuck this pussy right.” To prove his point, he scours in-between your pussylips to squeeze your pretty clit. “Look at her- she’s in love with me.”

“O-oh—” Eyes fluttering shut. 

“I know how to make her cry with pleasure. I know how to make her- mmmngh, squeeze like she doesn’t want me leavin’…heh.” He continues muttering into your ear as his hips grow more fervent. “I know how to make her feel so good—”

Your teeth grit. “Shit.” And you recognize the twisting sensation at the pit of your stomach. “K-Kuna, I’m gonna cum-”

“And even better.” He chuckles. Gnawing at the top of your ear shell, before moving down to bite the tender crook of your neck - like a wolf catching his prey. “I might not know those fuckin’- memes like the youngsters do. But I do know how to make this pussy- cum.”

“S-sooo close—don’t stop.” You’re bouncing n’ bouncing back into his pistoning hips. 

Feeling the pleasure well up. Feeling your head start to spin a little as you near your high- 

You’re crashing past your tipping point. And Sukuna gives you one, two, three good strokes to fuck you through the bursts of white-hot pleasure running through your veins - before he’s suddenly setting you free of his headlock and letting you drop straight into the plush pillows. 

Reeling his damn cock out.

You don’t know what’s louder: your disappointed groan or his rough cackle.

“What? Wanted this old man to be nice in bed or something?” As soon as you’re looking over your shoulder, you’re met with Sukuna’s priggish grin—his sharp canines peaking out at the edges of his lower lip. 

Grumpily, you nod. “Yes? What- can’t last or—oh.”

Another smack. “That’s not gonna work on me again- sorry, babydoll.” And before you know it, you’re being flipped right over - getting your legs thrown over his shoulders and pushed into the meanest mating press you’ve ever experienced. “Because m’not letting my bratty girl properly cum until I’ve had a good few rounds to blow off some steam. And m’sure you can keep up- heh, if not…”

“And um- how many rounds might that be exactly?”

Sukuna smirks. “67.”

“I hate you.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “M-mommy!”

AITA for seducing the HOT rich MILF (40’sF) that I (23M) pool-clean for while her ex-husband and kids were away?! In my defense, she’s reeeeeally hot.

You freeze.

Ino freezes.

The world itself seems to freeze; all except for the ruby-red tip of Ino Takuma’s cock. Shoved deeeep inside your cunt - deep enough to leave a permanent bruise there - and throbbing away wildly—he’s cumming with that particular title escaping his lips. 

And then his lower lip wobbles once- twice- before he ducks down and attempts to hide his face in his arms. 

“Hey hey-” Swiftly, you reach down to push his hands away - you’d be disappointed not to see his pretty expressions as you fucked him even further. All pouty lips and doe-like eyes—Ino Takuma was so pretty, and perhaps that’s what drew you to the younger pool cleaner in the first place. “What’s the matter, Taku?”

“I-I didn’t mean to call you that- honest!” He stammers out.

To which you’re cocking your head with a sly smile- time to try something. “Call me what, Taku?”

“Y’know what it is…” Ino grumbles, huffing. And when you simply continue to stare at him in slight confusion, he’s rockin’ up into your wet cunt as he speaks- “The way I c-called you—mommy- oh.” Just as you’d predicted, his velvety length jolts at the mere utterance of that title. Excitedly spurting out a few creamy-white wads of cum that glue to your cervix.

So messy. He was so fucking messy.

How ironic, considering that his entire job was to clean your pool.

You’d been introduced to Ino through one of your friends - those networks of older rich women with far too much time and money on their hands. Juggling kids and businesses. And you’d just been complaining to them over a gold-flaked brunch that your last pool cleaner had moved towns, and with your kids now entering middle school, the pool was left without use and starting to gather leaves. 

That’s when they’d shared Ino’s number with you—a reliable pool cleaner. Just graduated college, and so easy on the eyes if they did say so themselves…

You’d huffed that you’d tell their husbands- meanwhile you on the other hand had just recently gotten divorced. One too many nights of your husband coming home with a cloud of mysterious perfume around him, or a lipstick stain on his collar - at least you’d gotten a good chunk of everything in the divorce!

But that was all in the past- maybe love just wasn’t for you.

You had your kids. You had your gorgeous hillside mansion. You had your hobbies and friends- men just weren’t…for…

Fuck, that’s when he’d showed up at your door. 

Bright and early. Beaming with all his gorgeous pearly whites; the sweetest smile on such a killer body. Ino showed up in nothing but an unbuttoned flowery shirt and swim trunks—their lightning-yellow color perfectly complemented his slightly-tanned skin and messy brown hair. Slightly tawny from the Sun.

“Er, I hope you don’t mind.” Ino had said, a sheepish smile on his face. “I thought I’d get changed for the job before I got here.”

Mind? Mind?!

In simply what world would you mind—it took every speck of reason and rationality in you to dart your eyes away from the plane of his chest, his washboard abs. Sultry shoulders. Slender waist. There was a scattered happy trail that ran between his six-pack and- beneath his swimming trunks. 

Fuck. 

Instead, you focused on the tight necklace of shells around Ino’s throat. “C-come in.”

On the first day, you stayed inside - only peeking out occasionally from your bedroom window - as Ino cleaned your pool. You tipped him heavily.

On the second day, he’d told you that it was completely okay with him even if you used the pool whilst he was cleaning—and you took that as your sign. You donned a bikini you hadn’t gotten the chance to use in years, and sprawled yourself out on the nearest sun bed - making occasional conversation with him almost as an excuse to ogle him.

And if you weren’t mistaken, you’d say that he ogled you too. 

But you really did discover that Ino was a sweetheart- and made you giggle like a schoolgirl, too. How embarrassing you felt admitting this!

And a part of you was almost relieved when your kids arrived home from school - escorted by their driver - so you could resume your mundane lavishness. But a bigger part of you was already yearning for when you’d see him again…

And so continued the third day.

And the fourth day.

And so on to the fifth and the sixth.

Before you knew it, Ino had been employed as your pool-cleaner for at least a month—and he’d quickly grown to become someone you and your kids were quite fond of. Even your driver had caught on, and shot you a knowing smile every time you asked him to escort Ino back to his downtown apartment. Perhaps feeling jealous of such an occurrence, your ex-husband had showed up with tickets to an amusement park - already having planned a day trip for your kids.

They’d, of course, begged to go. And so you’d agreed.

Leaving nobody inside this vast mansion: but you, Ino, and the growing tension between you two. 

The only thing was, right before he left, your ex-husband had the audacity to stop Ino and snipe at him. Low and threatening. “Touch her and I’ll make you very, very sorry.”

So, of course you’d fucked Ino as soon as they were out of the house. 

Squeezing your robe-covered thighs ‘round his waist—just so perfectly curved to meet your embrace. “W-we really shouldn’t be…I mean- I’m old enough to be your-”

“Works just fine for me, pretty.” He’d cut you off. Pulling on the gauzy material of your robe to let your tits spill out- fuck, he was in heaven.

Enough so that it’d taken just putting it in for Ino to cover your luscious inside in his sap. To watch the satiny liquid seep between your pussylips and leave his pelvis gleaming with a sheen. To wrench out the most pathetic calls of your name—and one particular title that made him want to get swallowed up by the Earth.

Again and again.

Ino’s cock was longer than you’d expected - and all this time, you’d been wondering where the hell he’d been hiding all that in his swimming trunks. Just reaching over six pretty inches. Just smooooth and leaned ever-so-slightly towards the left. It’s making his bulbous tip drag across every sweet spot inside you, and your thighs quiver as you take him.

Every single inch. You’re arching your back and mustering up your strength to grind your hips forwards and back, forwards and back.

Milking him—

“C’mon, baby.” You’re cooing down at the handsome man. He blinks his teary eyes open- and you just can’t help but lean down n’ kiss them away from his cheeks. “Call me ‘mommy’ again?”

“C-can’t…” Ino blushes down to the roots of his chocolate-brown hair. “It’s embarrassing-”

“But it gets me so wet, Taku.” You pout—and his eyes widen at your admission. You watch as his pupils shift down- as if making sure. “Pleeeeeeeease? Just once?”

And in response, you smush your thighs harder around him. You’re sure you leave red, red welts on his skin - but that wasn’t registering in his mind right now. Nothing was. Nothing but the smooch of your soft velvety insides embracing his cock, and the sensation of cum sploshin’ around inside you. “Fine…but only because I wanna impress you…” His breath hitches. “-mommy.”

You shiver. “Oh, I liked that—”

And he does, too, because your cunt’s just suctioning on his length as if you were trying to take his soul. His fucking soul. 

The thing is- Ino would have gladly given it to you at this moment.

“It feels good- it f-feels s-sooooo good.” Tears begin to crinkle at the corners of his eyes, and Ino’s fingers dig into the sides of your hips as he bucks upwards. “Fuck, it should be illegal for it to feel this good- mommy.” And he can’t fucking help it—it echoes before he can stop himself. 

“Taku, I think you like saying that more than me.” With a soft chuckle, your dominant hand ends up wrapped around his throat. “C’mon now- a little faster for mommy.”

“Sh-shut—ngh.” No matter how hard he attempts to regain control- it doesn’t work. He pushes upwards into your soft, syrupy cervix as though marking it.

After a few desperate thrusts, he asks you- “Is this okay?”

“Hmmmm…” You pretend to think - and the ruined expression on his face is oh-so-completely worth it. “How about a biiiiit faster?”

His jaw drops- but he doesn’t complain. He’s grabbing onto either side of your thighs now, and plunging straight into your deepest depths—multiple thwacks! every second, it feels like. “H-how about-”

“Just a little faster.”

Doubting himself. “Is that even possible-”

“But you’d do it for- heh, me won’t you? You’d do it to make me feel good?”

Nodding and nodding. “Yes, mommy. A-anything for you mommy—” Broken moans and pleas cycle at the back of Ino’s throat, and he’s planted his feet flat on the mattress to push himself up ravenously. “M’just here for you to use me.”

Your eyes widen - your smile grows.

“Just use me-” He gasps, face reddening as he follows your instructions. “Fucking use me like a toy. Use me- fuh-fuuuck—”

“A liiiiiittle bit—” Your head tips backwards as he’s entering the perfect pace - rapid enough to leave your thoughts stupidly muddled, but still steady enough that you’re feeling every single ridge, vein, and curve. Giving your walls such a good massage—“Th-that’s perfect, Taku.” You squeeze his pretty neck tighter, and you’re hearing him let out a little hiccup of a sob. “Mommy’s so proud of you.”

Oh, and you thought that he was ruined enough already?

You thought that he was reaching his limits?

Because after that particular sentence - oh, you’re evil for that - Ino digs his digits into the flesh of your thighs and rams deep into your womb. His pistoning cock resting there for a brief few split-seconds as he sputters—“L-let me make you a mommy all over again.”

Your breath catches. “Do you even know what you’re asking for, Taku-”

“Fucking yes.” His glazed tip twitches dangerously in a way that told you he was oh-so-close to cumming again. Again.  “Yes, please- fuuuuck, let me get you pregnant. Let me make you a mommy for the third time. I-I promise I’ll be the best- ngh, dad and nothing like that asshole. I’ll take care of you and cherish you and-”

You kiss him to shut him up.

“But of course, baby.” You hum. “But you have to be quick before my ex-husband finds out.”

He’s never cum harder in his life. 

Verdict: NTA (drop the fucking tutorial, OP).

♡ GOJO SATORU - Sugar, sugar…

Gojo Satoru wasn’t technically a DILF - but he was a sugar daddy.

And they called you a gold digger.

Gojo called you business-savvy.

It was a rather unique situation: the relationship between the two of you had started out as a regular sugar daddy-sugar baby relation. You met Gojo Satoru at some stuffy ol’ business function when you were the arm candy of some other businessman—one who’d been ignoring you in favor of one of his business associates the entire night, of course.

Whatever.

You’d gotten used to this routine by now - and so you’d drifted by the grazing table with microscopic clean cuts and cheeses you couldn’t even pronounce. 

And that was exactly how your knight-in-shining-suit had sidled up next to you.

With two champagne glasses in-hand and a flirtatious smile upon his face, he handed you one of the drinks. Then you gestured at the businessmen you’d arrived with- and Gojo had the audacity to roll his eyes and pretend to retch. That was when you knew you’d get along.

Tall. Toned. With twinkling blue eyes—and just the slightest bit of silver creeping into his already-white hair. Gojo Satoru was as handsome as he was rich—and considering that both aspects occupied a fair share of the conversations tonight, you were rather flattered to be in his presence. Though the CEO of Gojo Corporations didn’t waste time: “Y’know, if I was lucky enough to arrive with an angel- I’d never leave her sight. Why waste time with some geezers over such a gorgeous gal?”

You smiled.

And you left that night with Gojo instead.

From the boxes of jewelries and flights around the world - to the tabloids and online speculation that couldn’t get enough of you. 

CEO of Gojo Corporations finally finds love?!

Gold digger or gold-hearted: All we know about Gojo Satoru’s girlfriend!

Is it sugar baby season? The newest IT Girl’s best red-carpet looks so far—

But of course, there was always some truth to those headlines. Perhaps. 

You were Gojo Satoru’s sugar baby. You were in a transactional relationship- though he never laid a hand on you. Not unless you initiated it.

So…what was it really?

You got your answer a few months into this limbo of lust—the two of you finally started dating. 

And to be quite honest; it wasn’t that big of a change at first. The two of you went out for romantic dinners either way. The two of you dodged paparazzi and rumors every step. The two of you bantered and teased as much as you did anyways- the only change would be that Gojo Satoru finally let loose when he fucked you.

Though, at times, he still did like to let his sugar daddy side peek through…

“A-awwww- just look at you.” Gojo’s hands were rubbin’ furiously down his length - from those curls of white cozily decorating his base, up to that poor, pretty tip that just wouldn’t stop cumming. Up and down. Up and down. 

Salty-sweet heaps of cum were pouring out of his cockhead and splashing down your front- your stomach, your inner thighs, your cunt. He watches as it creates a little waterfall effect—and Gojo reaches down to pat your stuffed pussy with his long fingers. “No matter what pretty trinkets n’ expensive lingerie you wear- you always look the prettiest covered in my cum, sweetheart.”

“S-Satoru—” You’re squirming underneath him. Hands clasping the silken sheets.

Your fingers were decked-out in diamond rings. Your lacy lingerie was tugged n’ pulled aside for access. 

Around you were bracelets upon necklaces upon every piece of jewelry that your heart could desire - Gojo had taken it upon himself to empty out Tokyo’s luxury stores earlier. All for you, of course.

All to drown you in—whilst he attempted to do the same with his fucking cum-

“I fuckin’ loooooove it when it covers you like this.” He hisses- nose scrunches in a feral way as he glides his fingers across those splatters. Those smears. That ruinous mess. His favorite was to see you like this: pull out game, who? You often scoffed whenever Gojo claimed that his was unmatched. “Love the way it looks like your pretty pussy can’t keep it in-” Just another light tap on your cunt. “Love the way it looks so pretty on your skin like this—mmm, you’ve got me obsessed, girl.”

Your thighs were shaky- but not shaky enough to stop you from attempting to pull him even closer. They’re wrapping around his waist, and careening him close ‘nough to kiss your puffy pussylips with his throbbing tip. His length doesn’t stop sensitively twitching for a single second—“O-oh…greedy for more, my girl?” 

“More.” Just barely managing to wrangle out. “W-want some more—”

“Fuuuuck.” He whispers underneath his breath - something so ragged in his tone. That blushin’ tip of his was twitching in excitement already, and Gojo probably doesn’t even realize before he’s slotted his still-erect length between your legs and his rockin’ away at a slow pace. “You seriously want more?”

Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation of him intruding your hole- seemingly only growing bigger every time he feels you clenchin’ around nothing. So needy. 

“Yes-” You’re nodding furiously. Perhaps had this been any other time, then you’d have been almost embarrassed at your unabashed eagerness. “B-but this time, I want it inside, Toru.”

“Inside?” Gojo’s pale brows fly to his hairline. “But you’re already stuffed so full, my sweetheart.”

And then he’s smearing his fingertips between your bloated folds- teasin’ them apart and taking a good look at your entrance. He can’t help himself - he’s spitting straight into that puckered hole—and watching at the glossy wad slips down your crevice and only adds to the mess he’s made previously. You’re shivering as he runs his nimble digits up n’ down your slit and presses on your clit.

“Yes, but—” You keen, arching into his firm core. “But you never really came inside, Toru.”

“Oh…” Those glossed lips of his part.

And you’re taking the opportunity to throw your arms weakly around him- “And I want it inside this time.” Though Gojo loved teasing you with his creamy-white sap—making you beg for it at times, he’s never properly cum inside.

He always thought it’d be too soon: you were younger, after all. And a pregnancy at this point might derail your plans-

“But I want it.” Had he been babbling this entire time? The sheer determination in your eyes sends a jolt of dark-black need through him - far more primal than he ever thought possible. Far more. Gojo’s blue peripherals glaze over as he clasps his cock even tighter, as though afraid he’s so hard now that it’d fucking fall off.

“Shouldn’t fall off now.” He whispers breathily.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Gojo quickly amends. Before he uses the pointed tip of his shaft to web up those dollops of cum he’d spurted ‘round your thighs and folds—it creates a gloss of white that he thinks would suit the insides of your pussy so well (did he mention that he was the one to pick out your lingerie colors?) ‘Round and ‘round.

It devises the most sinful sounds between your legs. And your breath catches in your throat: “A-are you gonna cum inside or not, Toru? Hurry-”

“So impatient.” He’s tutting. Voice low and husky. “I hope you know that if I fuck my cum inside—then m’gonna fuck you pregnant, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps scatter across your skin.

But Gojo doesn’t let you squirm, he doesn’t let you move about restlessly- he’s pinning you down with his hips and rumbling lowly in your ear. “M’gonna make sure it takes.” A rough sliiiiiide of his length sandwiched between your cushy pussylips - drooling for him by now. “M’gonna stuff you so full that you won’t even be able to walk—” Another rough slide. A thrust. “M’gonna give you the most precious gift of all - in my eyes.”

“P-please—!”

As you’re letting your head tip backwards, Gojo reaches his hand up to and clasps your gorgeous, gorgeous face. Smushing your cheeks together in a way that was so pathetic - “Are you okay with that, pretty baby?”

You’ve never heard him sound so serious.

And you’ve never yowled an affirmation faster in your entire life—

In the next few seconds, Gojo’s stuffed rawly all the way to the hilt and is messin’ up your insides with determined strokes. Once. Twice. Thrice- he punctures through your clingy walls and hits all the best spots - memorizing your g-spot and running his flared tip along it. 

And honestly, it doesn’t take much - the two of you were already so overstimulated already - before you’re feeling the wave of euphoria start to build up in your stomach already. Almost as lewd of a sensation as the clear twitchin’ mess that Gojo and his length had turned into—babbling, gasping, sobbing as he runs his fat cock raw on your velvety walls. Fucking raw.

You were going to make him an actual DILF.

“Y-you’re gonna get it now…” It’s the last thing he’s getting out before a flood of white sap enters your tight cunt. Getting absolutely drenched from the inside. “When have I ever forgone you of a gift, my girl?”

“Never—” You’re keening out. Rushes of pleasure start up between your legs- before crackling through your veins and ultimately ending up at your brain.

Hazy and startling at the feeling of him fucking you through both your highs. Thrust after thrust. Gush after gush of both pleasure n’ his milky-white cum. 

Underneath the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm; you can feel his spurts of cum start to trickle between your legs. It was just as warm as your skin was getting, and creating a little puddle beneath you that Gojo takes one looks at and gasps- 

“Now now, are you wasting your gift, sweetheart—?” He cocks his head, genuinely ruined. 

“N-no?”

“Or do I just have to- heh, regift it to you again?”

“Shut up.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Ms. Babysitter.

“We have to be quiet, angel- fuck. Fuck.” Higuruma’s voice sounded ragged—

Ruined. Nothing but carnal desire creeping up into the edges of his tone; giving you a jolt, considering that you’ve known the older man to be nothing but utterly calm and collected.

He was one of the best parents that you babysat for. 

One of your college friends had recommended you for the job - the hot lawyer in your neighborhood needed someone to look after his young daughter whilst he worked long nights? You were agreeing before you’d even heard the hours, you can’t deny—and despite how hasty of a decision it had been, you thoroughly enjoyed working under Higuruma Hiromi.

And being under Higuruma Hiromi…though that didn’t come until a few weeks after you’d been employed. 

The first night, you’d barely seen him. Dark hair. Dark circles.

The main thing you remember was that he looked exhausted—and some strange part of you was actually enticed by the hard-working man. Especially when he was such a gentleman…

Fuck, that suit fit him so well.

He addressed you oh-so-respectfully; unlike some parents who were tempted to treat you like a live-in server. Hands behind his back. Jet-black eyes to himself as he gave you a two-minute tour around the house- you’d been thoroughly enjoying yourself admiring his broad shoulders in that suit, when a sudden call from the office meant your tour had to be paused. 

Higuruma had pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. He’d sighed.

And he was out that door before you could even confirm bedtime- which hadn’t been too much of a problem, to be honest. His daughter was extremely well-behaved and didn’t hesitate to let you know. 

She also didn’t hesitate to let you know that her dad was very, very single.

You let her stay up just a liiittle past her bedtime. 

And then the second night, he’d apologized for his hastiness - telling you that a recent case had them fighting to prepare before the court deadline, and there’d just been so many fucking tax audits to go through.

You nodded like you understood. But what really intrigued you was when he’d told you that his daughter had just loved having you over. Though a part of you was simply satisfied that you did your job well (buttered popcorn and K-pop Demon Hunters wins again!), you can’t deny that it made your heart…flutter hearing it from the older man like this. 

It made you realize that you had a little crush.

So of course, you made him a regular.

And the pay was so good that you were able to weed out your other clients to focus predominantly on Higuruma and his bizarre babysitting schedule (some nights he worked until 3AM…)—you guessed the overtime was paying off. 

Though your interactions were limited mostly to the brief conversations before and after- though you never did cross your boundaries. That all came to a head when one night - about a month or two into your babysitting gig - Higuruma suddenly perked up after a late night at the office. It was 3:31AM when he quietly let himself inside the house, sighing as he finally tugged off his tie.

It was 3:32AM by the time you got up off the couch and offered him some cookies you’d made with his daughter in the morning.

3:40AM when he suddenly remembered- and suggested resuming that house tour you didn’t get to finish. And though you’d been a bit hesitant—for nothing other than the fact that you might wake his sleeping daughter up, he promised that the two of you would be quiet.

Then, finally, 3:47AM when he was telling you to be quiet in bed-

“Wouldn’t wanna wake her up, hm?” The prominent outline of his nose runs down the side of your throat - and it makes you shiver. Fuck, you always have thought that that was one of the most handsome parts of him. 

A soft moan strangles in your throat as he slots his thickened tip between your folds—feeling it like this, your mind’s reeling with the question of how the fuck he’s going to fit like this.

Higuruma always did strike you as the type of man to be big; but this was enough to make your mouth water and your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull. From here, you were feeling at least seven or eight inches of his erection, furiously hot, wrapped in throbbing red veins and having the most luscious precum dripping out from top. He seemed hard enough to fucking ruin you - just how you wanted it. 

And as if reading your mind, Higuruma runs his slippery wet tip down your pussylips, and trundles in his low tone. “Are you sure you want to do it? We don’t have to rush into anything if you don’t want-”

“I do.” Cutting him off mid-sentence.

Although by the way that Higuruma’s stern lips were quirking up ever-so-slightly—you’re taking it to mean that he didn’t exactly mind. He keeps one hand underneath your ass, so that you can be pushed up into his roverin’ hips, and his other one caresses your cheek softly. “Hm, is that so…? Then I guess what I meant to say is…can you take every single inch, sugar?”

You gulp. Your eyes dart down nervously to his twitchin’, throbbing length. “Yes.”

And you’ve never been more sure of anything.

Higuruma merely horses out - “Then buckle up, angel.”

Before you know it, his round, ruddied tip is probin’ inside. Sifting your gluey walls from side-to-side before spreading you up so maddeningly open.

He spots your sweet areas with a few dollops of pre- as soon as Higuruma found himself inside you, he was fighting back whimpers of pleasure. The older man’s achin’ cock doing all the talking for him as he shovels his way in—

“Sh-shit.” Your eyes sprint to the back of your head as you take him. “Shit, you’re so big-”

The way you’re moving your hips around as though confused whether to buck right down or make him ease up- it’s just so cute. And he plants a reassuring hand on the side of your waist, “Easy now.” Higuruma hushes out, “Eeeeeeasy, angel. You can take it for me.”

“Right there—” You keen out as his flared tip rubs along your g-spot.

And although he knows what you meant, that doesn’t stop Higuruma from throwing you a ravishing smirk. Letting his second hand run down your core- “No, sugar. Right here.” He pushes down right where he knew your womb would be - that soft pressure making your walls clench around him wildly, until you could feel every throb of his engorged tip even in your brain. “And you’re gonna take it f’me, right?” 

Jostling you hard with every thrust—so that you’re nodding away. Almost pathetically. 

“Mhm…exactly what I thought.” He coos - so lovingly thrusting away between your quiverin’ legs. Higuruma’s skin slap-slap-slaps against yours at a steady pace, “Just a few more inches now—keep quiet, please.”

“I’m t-trying.” Gnawing down on your lower lip. “How many more?”

“Ah, just one inch…two…” And after a prolonged thrust- so deep that you swear you’re feeling it in your throat, Higuruma cracks a grin. “Maybe more.”

Five more?

Five more?

And you were already on the verge of being fucked absolutely stupid? You’re letting a groan escape you—lewd and louder than you intended- and before the realization hits you, Higuruma himself swiftly reaches over to where his work tie had been dangling off the side of the bed. Bunching it up, shoving it between those pretty lips - he couldn’t have anyone waking up now, could he?

And that’s exactly what he’s telling you: “C’mon, angel…” Shoves getting deeper and longer. Rougher- as he rams his thickened inches past where you don’t think anyone’s ever gone before. And throughout it all, the older man was so steady with you—“C’mon- c’mon. You can do this—fuuuuuck, you can do this. This pussy’s gonna take all of me, right?”

Nodding and nodding.

“Yeah? Because you’re my goooood girl, right? Taking me so well.” He continues rasping - tone pitching higher and higher as he goes on. “My good- fucking- girl—”

“O-oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“You’re my goooooood fucking girl, huh?” The stubs of his five o’ clock shadow rub up against your skin. The deeper he thrusts, the hotter his body seems to become on top of yours. More and more. “Can you count how many inches m’putting in you?”

Tears flow down your eyes, “Y-yes- mmpf.” Somehow managing past the tie. “Ah- four? Five. Six.”

Higuruma’s eyes widen.

“Seven—” Your voice seems like it’s on the verge of cracking. “Eight.”

It’s just too adorable how you’re sweetly attempting to respond to him even with the gag in. And Higuruma can’t help himself as he leans in and kisses you through the tie.

It’s hot and it’s messy.

And it ends up with him smiling against your stuffed lips, “Finally bottomed-out.”

Hazily, you’re blinking a few times. It clears your vision enough for you to jerk your head down and see that it was indeed true, Higuruma had stuffed himself inside your pussy until his thick base was kissin’ your pussylips. Just the most innocent peck.

“And now…” Except…fuck, except he was reeling right back again. “-for the fun part.”

Right back until that rounded tip stretched your hole out.

Right back inside-

“Makes me wanna put a baby in you- I swear. Taking me like this.” 

A/N. TONY’S BACK.

Your stomach dropped. This was it, he was bored already. Probably wanted to bring in some other slut, watch her choke on his dick while you sat there like a pathetic cuckquean, or worse, wanted you to watch him rail someone else.

Manipulative blue-eyed asshole. You cried in your dorm that night, but you still showed up. Because losing him? Not an option. You were addicted to the way he stretched your tight little cunt, the way he laughed when you squirted all over his abs, the way he called you his good girl while he pumped you full.

So here you are, Friday night, heart hammering, dressed like the desperate whore you are for him. Tiny black pleated skirt that barely covers the bottom curve of your ass—every step flashes the lacy edge of your thong. Low-cut red top clinging to your tits, nipples already pebbled and poking through the thin fabric like they’re begging to be sucked raw. Heels that make your legs look obscene. You came here to get fucked. Hard. Rough. Until you can’t walk straight.

The front door’s unlocked like he said. You push it open and—There he is. But not your Gojo.

Same snowy hair, same ocean blue eyes, same stupidly perfect face… except this one has messy strands falling into his glasses, a black shirt stretched across a lean, ripped chest, and gray sweats that do nothing to hide the heavy outline of a fat cock resting against his thigh.

Satoru. The brother you vaguely remember Gojo mentioning once in passing. You didn’t know it was a twin. A carbon copy. Beautiful. Dangerous.

He’s lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, one arm slung over the back like he owns the fucking planet. His eyes rake over you slow —starting at your heels, crawling up your bare thighs, lingering on the way your skirt rides up enough to show the soft underside of your ass, then higher to your tits spilling out of that slutty top. You have no idea what's going on his head. His expression looked neutral, bored but a little amused.

Your heart beats harder. Same eyes. Same stare. But the look in them isn’t the playful hunger you’re used to. This is darker. Hungrier.

He tilts his head, voice low and smooth, a little raspier than Gojo’s. “Are you his girlfriend?”

You nod, throat dry. “Y-yeah…”

His gaze drops to your tits again, slow and deliberate, then lower, like he’s mentally peeling your skirt off. “Hmmm. Not bad.” The words drip with pure lust, like he’s grading how well you’d take two cocks at once. “Name?”

“Y/n…”

He smirks, lazy and wicked, adjusting his glasses with one long finger. “I’m Satoru. You can call me Toru.”

Your cheeks burn. “Ye—yeah, sure. Where’s Gojo?”

Toru jerks his chin toward the hallway, eyes never leaving your body. “In his room.”

You swallow hard. “Then… I think I should go.”

“Yeah,” he drawls, voice thick with filthy promise. His cock twitches visibly in those sweats. “See you in a bit.”

You nod way too fast and bolt down the hallway, heels clicking, skirt swishing against your ass, pussy already dripping down your thighs because what the actual fuck.

'See you in a bit.'

What the hell did he mean by that?

Your mind’s spinning, heart slamming against your ribs. Is he really gonna be here? Sitting in the living room, hearing every damn thing?

What the fuck were you thinking, agreeing to this?

What the fuck was Gojo thinking?

You stop right outside Gojo’s bedroom door. You can already hear low music playing inside. Your boyfriend’s voice humming something lazy. Your hand shakes as you reach for the door… You knock once, soft and shaky, like you’re scared the whole house will hear how desperate you already are. The door swings open almost immediately.

There he is, all cocky grin and messy white hair, wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweats that hang dangerously below his sharp hipbones. The thick outline of his cock is already half-hard, bulging obscenely against the fabric like it knows exactly why you’re here.

His eyes rake over you the same filthy way his twin did —starting at your heels, dragging up your bare thighs, lingering on the way your tiny skirt rides up to flash the curve of your ass, then higher to your tits practically spilling out of that slutty red top. Nipples hard as diamonds, poking through like they’re begging for his mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he drawls, voice low and gravelly, one big hand immediately palming his dick through the sweats, squeezing the fat length like he’s showing off. “Look at you. Dressed like a whore, huh?”

Your face burns. You can feel the heat crawl down your neck, your thighs pressing together instinctively. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Long fingers wrap around your wrist and he yanks you inside. Before you can even catch your breath, his mouth is on your tits—hot, wet, sucking one hard nipple right through the thin fabric while his other hand shoves your top down, freeing both breasts to the cool air.

“These tits,” he groans against your skin, tongue swirling around the stiff peak, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper. “Fuckin’ perfect. Gonna look so pretty bouncing while I pound you.”

You slap a hand over your own mouth to muffle the moan that rips out of you. His brother. Satoru. He’s right there in the house. What if he hears? What if he comes closer? Your stupid, reckless boyfriend doesn’t even seem to care.

You push at Gojo’s chest weakly, panting. “G-Gojo… wait… are we really gonna do it here?”

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, smirking down at you like you just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Yeah, why not, babe?”

“Well… shouldn’t we go somewhere more private…?”

“This is my house, yeah?” He shrugs, lazy and unbothered, already grinding his hard dick against your stomach. “So what’s the issue?”

You swallow hard. “Well… your brother’s here…”

“Ohhh, you saw him?” Gojo’s grin turns downright devilish. Blue eyes glittering with something dark and excited.

You nod, cheeks flaming. “Hmm. Gojo…” You try again, voice small. “Are we really gonna do it? I mean… things are great between us, right?”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing for the first time. “You agreed to it, baby. Why the cold feet now?”

“I… I mean—”

He cuts you off mid-sentence, eyes flicking over your shoulder toward the doorway. A slow, filthy smile spreads across his face. “Ahhh. He’s here. Let’s start, babe?”

Your heart stutters. “Yeah but—"

Okay, wait… he? Did he just say… he’s here? Did you hear that one right? Well truth be told, Gojo never said the other person was a girl, did he? He just said “something new,” “to spice things up.” You assumed it would be some hot sorority chick he wanted to bang. Not… not this.

As if the universe is mocking your spiraling thoughts, a low, familiar voice cuts through the room from behind you.

“Yeah, let’s get it over with. I’ve got studying to do after this.”

You whip around so fast your skirt flares.

It’s him. His brother. Glasses slightly fogged, snowy hair messier than before, black shirt already half-unbuttoned to reveal a lean, cut chest that looks just as carved as Gojo’s. He’s stepping inside, long fingers lazily popping the last few buttons open one by one. The shirt slides off his shoulders and hits the floor. He reaches back without looking, shuts the door with a soft click, then twists the lock.

Your brain short-circuits.

You look between them—same eyes, same smirks, and their fat cocks already straining against their sweats like they’ve been hard since the second they saw you in that tiny skirt.

Gojo steps up behind you, hands sliding around to grope your bare tits again, rolling your nipples between his fingers while he grinds his dick against your ass.

Satoru steps closer, eyes locked on where Gojo’s hands are mauling your chest, then dropping lower to the way your thighs are trembling. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out except a pathetic little squeak.

Is the threesome your boyfriend mentioned… with none other than his fucking twin brother?!

************

You don’t know what the fuck you did in your past life to deserve this kind of depravity, but clearly the universe decided to pay you back in the filthiest way possible.

All you wanted was the pretty boy Gojo, to be yours. To love you stupid, to fuck you so dumb and deep that your greedy little cunt would reshape itself around his fat cock forever, molded to take only him.

But when the hell did it spiral into this?

When did it turn into the same boyfriend pinning your thighs wide open with his big hands, spreading you like a fucking buffet so his twin brother could stare straight into your dripping, needy pussy? Legs hooked over Gojo’s forearms, skirt and thong forgotten on the floor, your slick, swollen folds are on full obscene display. Your clit’s throbbing visibly, hole twitching and weeping like it’s already begging for both of them.

They looked the fuckin' same. If it weren’t for the glasses and the messy hair on one and the cocky grin on the other, you wouldn’t even be able to tell them apart. And now the sick, horny part of your brain is screaming one question louder than the rest:

Do they have the same cock too?

You’re about to find out.

Satoru kneels between your spread thighs like he’s got a goddamn anatomy final tomorrow and your cunt is the only textbook that matters. He’s close enough that you can feel his hot breath ghosting over your clit, making it jump.

“Damn…” he mutters, voice low and rough, eyes locked on your pussy like it personally offended him by being this perfect. “Your bitch has a nice cunt, Gojo.”

Gojo laughs, that dark, smug sound vibrating against your back where he’s got you cradled against his chest. “Told ya. And it’s so fuckin’ tight—can’t even last in her without wanting to blow my load like a virgin. She milks me dry every time.”

Satoru hums, leaning in closer. “Hold her legs up higher. I wanna see everything.”

Gojo obeys instantly, gripping under your knees and yanking your thighs back until you’re practically folded in half, cunt spread wide and obscene, hole fluttering under their stares.

“Like this?” Gojo asks, voice dripping with filthy pride.

Satoru nods slow. “Yeah. Perfect.”

Then his long fingers are there—two of them sliding through your folds, spreading your slick, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit until your hips jerk and a slutty moan rips out of you.

Gojo laughs again, right against your ear. “Now now, don’t feel too good yet, yeah? You’re gonna make me think I wasn’t fuckin’ you good enough before.”

“N-no,” you whimper, voice shaking, “that’s not—ah!”

Satoru doesn’t let you finish. He dips his head and drags his tongue in one long, filthy stripe from your leaking hole all the way up to your clit, sucking the little bud into his mouth like he’s starving.

You cry out, hands flying to clutch Gojo’s thick forearms, nails digging in as your whole body arches.

Gojo presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, teeth grazing. “That’s it, baby. Such a good thing for us.”

Satoru pulls back just enough to slide one finger inside you—then two—curling them slow and deep while his thumb keeps rubbing messy circles on your clit. He looks up at both of you, blue eyes dark and mocking behind his glasses.

“How’s it feel, prick?” he asks Gojo, voice thick. “Watching your girlfriend’s tight little cunt get played with by me?”

Gojo groans low, one hand sliding down to pinch and roll your nipple hard between his fingers, tugging until you whine. “I hate to admit it… but I’m glad I lost that fuckin’ game. Wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Your brain stutters. “W-what game…?”

You barely get the words out, voice all breathy and wrecked while Satoru’s fingers pump in and out of your sopping cunt, slick dripping down his wrist.

Gojo chuckles dark, twisting your nipple again while he grinds his hard cock against your ass. “Y'know baby, last week we were playing this racing game. Shit got heated. We put a bet on it. Toru said if he won… he’d get to fuck my girlfriend.” He leans down, lips brushing your ear. “And here we are, baby. Your pussy on the line—and he fucking won.”

A fresh gush of slick floods out around Toru’s fingers the second the words sink in. Your boyfriend bet your cunt in a video game. And lost. And now his twin is knuckle-deep in you, scissoring you open like he owns it. You should be mortified. You should be pissed.

Instead your cunt clenches hard around those invading fingers, thighs shaking, because that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

Satoru smirks, feeling you flutter. “Always hated this prick,” he mutters, eyes never leaving your face as he fucks you deeper. “Wanted to get back at him. Can’t believe he was hoarding a tight cunt like this all to himself.”

Gojo snorts, still playing with your tits like they’re his personal stress toys. “A little gratitude is fine, yeah?”

Satoru just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, go fuck yourself.”

Then he pulls his fingers out with a wet squelch, stands up in one smooth motion, and shoves his sweats down.

His cock springs free—thick, veiny, flushed dark at the tip, slapping up against his cut abs with a lewd smack. It’s identical to Gojo’s. Precum beads at the slit, dripping down the shaft as he wraps a hand around it and strokes once, slow and filthy.

“Playtime’s over,” he says, voice rough, eyes locked on your gaping, dripping hole. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got better things to do.”

You blink hard, once, twice, like the universe is straight-up trolling you. Because look at that—Satoru’s cock is the fuckin' same as Gojo’s. Same ridiculous length, same thick, veiny girth, same angry flushed head already drooling precum down the shaft like it’s been waiting to ruin you. Is that even biologically possible?

It slaps up against his abs with a heavy, wet sound and you swear the damn thing twitches like it’s waving hello, mocking you. Buy-one-get-one-free deal on the world’s most dangerous dick. You just wanted one pretty blue-eyed devil to rearrange your guts… and now you’ve got two that look like they were cloned in a lab specifically to ruin your holes.

You’re not complaining. Not even a little.

Especially not when Gojo hooks his big hands under your knees and folds you in half, shoving your thighs all the way back until your knees kiss your tits. Your pussy completely exposed—puffy, soaked, clit swollen and shiny. Your hole flutters openly under their gaze, dripping a fresh string of slick down to your asshole.

Satoru slaps his fat cock against your folds twice—wet, obscene smacks that make your cunt clench hard—then lines up and pushes in slow. Inch by thick inch, stretching you open like he’s claiming territory.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, head falling back, glasses slipping down his nose. “Haaa… so fuckin’ tight… goddamn, what the hell is this pussy made of? S'choking me.”

Gojo laughs low and filthy right by your ear. “Told ya, man. Cunt’s so tiny I can barely last ten strokes without blowing. She was made for this.”

Satoru starts moving—slow, deep, grinding thrusts that drag every vein along your walls. He curses under his breath with every snap of his hips.

He can't help it. Satoru never felt anything this good in his life… Who knew fucking his own brother’s pretty little girlfriend would feel this fucking perfect? He should’ve done this earlier.

He bottoms out and grinds in circles, stirring your insides. “Why’s it so goddamn tight, huh? Your boyfriend’s dick that small? Hasn’t stretched you out right?”

Gojo scoffs, still holding your legs wide. “Oh hey, come on, shut the fuck up. Mine’s bigger than yours, asshole.”

“I don’t think sooo,” Satoru mocks, slamming in harder just to watch you squeal.

“Well I think sooo,” Gojo fires back, one hand dropping to rub tight, mean circles on your swollen clit while his twin rails you. He looks down at your fucked-out face—mouth hanging open, eyes glassy. “Right, baby? Tell him whose cock is bigger. Back your man up.”

You can’t. You literally can’t. Your brain is melted, eyes rolling back as Satoru’s cock bullies that spongy spot inside you over and over. He chuckles, dark and smug. “She’s fuckin’ cock-drunk already, bro. Look at her—can’t even talk.”

Gojo grins. “Let’s ask her properly then.”

Satoru yanks out with a wet pop, leaving your cunt gaping and clenching around nothing.

Gojo lightly slaps your cheek—once, twice—bringing you back to earth. “Baby… tell me the truth. Whose is bigger? Mine or his?”

Your eyes dart between them. You bite your lip, then do the sluttiest thing imaginable: you reach down with both hands, spread your own dripping pussy lips wide open, and whimper,

“I… I don’t know… Put it in here… I’ll… I’ll tell you…”

They both freeze for half a second, then groan like you just killed them.

“Jesus Christ,” Gojo mutters, already shoving his cock into your stretched hole in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You scream into the sheets, clutching fistfuls of fabric as he starts pounding.

“How’s that, baby? Mine’s bigger, yeah?”

Satoru rips him back out and slams in right after—same depth, same force. “Mine’s bigger, isn’t it?”

You stutter, voice wrecked. “B-both… both the same size—ahh fuck—same—same—”

“Yeah?” Satoru growls, giving you one especially vicious thrust that makes your toes curl. He pulls out, hauls you up like you weigh nothing, flips you onto all fours, and buries himself back inside in one go. Your face smashes into the sheets, ass up high, back arched like a bitch in heat.

“Now now, don’t forget me,” Gojo says, crawling in front of your face. He strokes his leaking cock, smearing precum across your lips. “Here, baby. Open up—aaahhh.”

You obey instantly, sucking him down your throat like his good girl, hollowing your cheeks while Satoru pounds your pussy from behind.

Heaven. This is actual fucking heaven—sandwiched between two monstrous cocks, one brutalizing your cunt, the other fucking your throat in perfect sync. They pick up speed, hips snapping, balls slapping. Satoru keeps nailing that spot until your eyes cross.

“Hmm—Toru—right there—nghh—more—”

Gojo grabs your hair, yanks you back onto his cock. “Come on, don’t forget your poor boyfriend now.”

They fuck you faster, meaner—Satoru cums first with a guttural “FUCKKKK—cumming—” and a hard slap to your ass that leaves a burning handprint. Thick ropes of hot cum flood your pussy, so much it squirts out around his cock.

The feeling of him pulsing inside you makes you moan around Gojo’s dick, throat tightening. That’s all it takes—Gojo groans “Babe—aaahhh shit—” and unloads straight down your throat, holding your head still while you swallow every drop like the cumslut you are.

All three of you are panting, sweat-slick, wrecked. Thick white cum leaks from your abused pussy and drips from the corner of your mouth. Your ass is still in the air, cunt twitching. Satoru lazily rubs two fingers through your folds, spreading the mess, playing with your oversensitive clit until you whimper.

You think that’s it. You’re foolish enough to believe they’re done.

Gojo smirks, wiping sweat from his brow. “Wanna take this side?”

Satoru shrugs, already hard again. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

And they switch.

They keep trading your holes like you’re their personal fucktoy—Gojo in your pussy while Satoru fucks your throat, then Satoru back in your cunt while Gojo uses your mouth, over and over until you lose count. You don’t even know when it ends. Time stops existing. All you know is cock, cum, and the wet sounds of them ruining you.

When you finally blink back to reality, your eyes flutter open to the most obscene sight: both of them latched onto your tits like starving men. Gojo sucking and biting one nipple, Satoru on the other, tongues swirling, teeth grazing, hands squeezing your soft flesh while their still-hard cocks rest heavy against your thighs. Your tits ache sweetly from all the sucking and biting, nipples puffy and dark.

You reach down, threading your fingers through their snowy hair, caressing gently as they nurse on you like they’ll never get enough.

Gojo pops off your nipple with a wet sound, grinning up at you with that same cocky sparkle. “Fuck… we might’ve just knocked you up tonight, baby.”

Satoru lifts his head too, lips shiny with spit. “Good luck figuring out whose it is. Kid’s gonna come out looking exactly like both of us.”

Gojo laughs, low and filthy, nipping your tit again. “Guess I'll just have to keep breeding this perfect cunt until I make sure it's mine.”

Satoru smirks, already rubbing his cock against your leaking hole again. “One more?”

"Toruuuu....." you pouts softly, as you thread your fingers through their hair, petting gently, pulling them both back down to your tits.

Yeah. You’d said yes to “something new” because you were terrified of losing your boyfriend. And now… this.

Two perfect, pretty boys, both of them buried so deep inside you that you can still feel the phantom stretch. Both of them looking at you like you’re the prize they’d fight over. Both of them still hard against your thighs, already thinking about going at it again.

Thank god you said yes.

Thank god you trusted that reckless suggestion.

Because if you hadn’t… you’d still be having just one of them. Now you’ve got two.

Yeah.

Best fuckin' decision you ever made.

Dedicated to my lovely wife @chewiebee

You're unsure what it was about you that made you so special, but if you had to thank someone for your status in the society of prostitution, that someone would be Geto Suguru, who was the first to openly pick you as his favored escort.

After he came in to your brothel unmasked and open with who he was, many people of higher society began to follow suit until this trend eventually reached royal walls.

It was by then that you were sought out by only the best of the best. And while this was supposed to be a good thing for you, considering it meant much better pay and (thankfully) less harassment, you found yourself facing a new difficulty as your two highest paying clients began to butt heads and clash with their timing...

——

On one hand, you had well known cultist leader Geto Suguru who you'd wrapped around your pretty little finger from his first night with you.

You recall said first night like it were yesterday.

Dimmed lanterns littered the brothel's corners and ceilings, leaving arrays of shadows and silhouettes to splay out across the rich velvet-draped walls whilst the scent of sex 'n sin coated the air.

You were leaning against a scrupulously carved wooden bar, the silks of your robe slanting off your right shoulder—leaving room for a teasing curve of your breasts to spill out to the varying patrons winding about. It'd been a rather busy night for you, as you'd tended to at least three clients back to back prior to finding this short moment for yourself.

Most could hardly afford an entire night with you at this time, even though you weren't considered the best of the best just yet. This brothel brought in all sorts of lost souls, a diverse set individuals who's cash and coin could bring them whatever flesh they craved when their desires ran most rampant.

Your eyes had scanned the room time and time again in search of who to approach, as it was also rather rare that you'd have a second to do the approaching—most came to you. But, this night had been wildly different.

Your gaze plucked out the regulars and you grimaced as the prospect of having to approach one of those merchants who carried leering grins and uncomfortably grabby hands dawned on you. Although you'd a busy night thus far, you were quite hungry for cash.

All you wanted was one more customer before you'd call it a successful night.

You debated on approaching some soldiers who's hands you knew to itch for softness, deeply considering how their pockets tended to run rather deep.

When such powerful fascinations of magic existed, it was only natural that all sorts of people existed as well. There were benders of four different kinds, sorcerers who had the most complex of abilities, mixes of both who existed, and lastly—regular people who carried no special, otherworldly aptitudes whatsoever.

That last category is where you fall. But, you suppose being able to bend your back just right and give people a taste of something far sweeter than any source of supernatural abilities out there was something to be moderately proud of.

It was in this very brothel that you felt most powerful, and nothing nor anyone could take that away from you.

Especially not by the time Geto entered the establishment for the first time.

Staggering in at over six feet tall, cloaked in black from head to toe with half of his face hidden behind an ornate mask, he was certainly nothing to be played with when you first saw him.

You—and everyone else in a hundred mile radius—had heard many rumors and tales of the infamous Geto Suguru. How he slaughtered his own family, was actively wanted for doing so by members of Jujutsu Society, and had some sort of cult brewing about to spread ideals of slaughter in regards to any non-sorcerers.

But, given the mask he had on, you held no idea that the man snapping his eyes your way was him.

Though, looking back on it now, it should've been obvious. Only half of his face was concealed but most should be able to recognize that sharp jawline and those seductive eyes of amethyst hue from a mile away. Not to mention the long tresses of raven black that cascaded down his back, swishing with much elegance as he paced deeper into the brothel—half of it pulled up into quite the signature bun.

"You," He'd been standing in front of you much faster than you had time to prepare yourself for, his voice laced with this smooth purr that—again—anyone should've been able to recognize.

You remember the way you straightened up almost immediately, your gaze meeting his as the tension of his visual scrutiny fell down on you. Luckily for you, you were able to collect yourself just in time to offer a short nod of your head, "Of course."

You had to force steadiness in your voice just to maintain your usual confidence. No way were you about to let some masked stranger get you all nervous.

...Even if the masked stranger in question undressed you with his eyes in a way you swear you've never experienced before.

You ended up leading him up the creaky set of stairs to your left. It was apparent in how quiet he was along the way that he hadn't been a man of many words, at least not to people he didn't know—ergo, you.

Once upstairs, he followed you down the relatively quiet hall, the only source of sound coming from the soft click of a shutting door as you eventually brought him into a private room.

His eyes didn't stay on you long, too eager to take in the intimate space around him. He'd linger his gaze over the wide bed, scoff quietly at the cheap-looking sheets tossed over it, and shift in his standing as he contemplated deeply on all the decisions that led him here.

Then his attention found you again.

Whilst he had reminded dormant, you slowly turned around to face him and wasted little time in working to untie your velvety robes. The fabrics fell to pool at your feet, and for anyone who lived a life much different to this one—the way things played out may have come off as strange. But for you, having a client who spoke very little such as this one wasn't unusual in the slightest.

Hell, it was on nights like that where you preferred it most, honestly.

"Shall I uh..." Your voice wavered a moment but you quickly made up for it via gesturing your hand out to the man. Then you pacing closer to him, "Shall I help you?" You offered simply, your movement extending out into a reach as you went for his clothing.

A hand met your wrist and his head shook, "Not yet."

You'd known the gentleman for no longer than twenty minutes and yet only three words had come your way. How strange.

Unfortunately, you weren't given much time to ponder on his aloofness since you were distracted by the way his hand left you and went for his mask. He lifted it away and you gasped almost immediately at the reveal, stumbling back a bit to move your hands over your mouth.

In one respect, you were scared shitless. The man known for bringing harm to non-sorcerers was currently standing in front of you, a non-sorcerer. And in the other respect, it was hard to be entirely fearful when he had the face of an angel.

Most men prior to this instance weren't always the easiest on the eyes, and it was quite the rarity for you to be in a situation like this.

A few lengthy strands of hair framed the upper half of his now-revealed face and fuck if he wasn't the most beautiful man you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"You look scared," Geto pointed out bluntly, his gaze inert. He watched closely at the way the center of your throat moved with the gulp you took.

Cute.

You wanted to swipe your robes back up from the floor and run for your life, but what good would that really do you?

"Well, you're known for..." Your words failed you entirely but you tried your best to vocalize your scattered thoughts. "A-And I'm not a—"

"A sorcerer? I know," He fills in for you, closing the distance you'd tried to create between the two of you. "But, I don't need you to be a sorcerer to fuck you, do I?"

It was in that moment, and with those words, that you remembered what exactly your job was. Fearing that this man would harm you despite him literally coming to this establishment to feed into whatever lust lived inside him was mildly foolish on your part.

You eventually let your head nod understandingly, your gaze sinking to the floor in slight embarrassment. Meanwhile he'd found himself amused. He knew from the moment he laid eyes on you that you'd easily become his exception for the sorcerer exclusive world he wanted to eventually create.

Geto stepped forward and went to take your wrists into his hands again, tugging you towards him and guiding your palms to his torso. "You can undress me now," He instructed.

Your hands were shaking slightly as you did so, struggling to swallow that lingering fear all the way down. It wasn't until you'd managed his top off that he moved to grab at your jaw rather roughly, forcing your head up and your eyes on his.

You gasped again, "Lord Geto, I—"

"Suguru will suffice," He murmured before you could even finish, tipping his head to the side and leaning in to caress your lips with his own. "I am yours more than you are mine tonight, alright?"

It was obvious he was trying to soothe your nerves but it wasn't really working until his lips fell onto yours. Your eyes went wide when he kissed you, stuck in your own shock and unable to bring yourself back into the moment.

Then, by the time his tongue darted out to tap at the corners of your mouth seeking entry, you regained some of yourself and managed to part your lips for him. After which his tongue met with yours and it was as though a flip had been switched in your head.

Your body pushed forward into his without second thought and you caught him by surprise quickly enough for him to grunt into your mouth. The taste of Geto on your tongue was something you'd never forget—not by a long shot.

One of your hands flew up to the side of his face to trace his cheek as your other explored the expanse of his abs, fingertips dipping against every sharp curve. Geto's body shuddered under your suddenly initiative touch, his breath clinging to his lungs and refusing to leave him in a timely manner.

A single slip of tongues was all it took for you to feel like yourself again and that was enough to have Geto reeling. Your thumb swiped against his cheek in a fashion more tender than he'd ever experienced in his life and he was completely under your figurative spell until your other hand began to dip past his waistband.

After a few minutes of exchanging saliva and soft moans, he'd unconsciously pushed you back against the bed. You pulled away from him and moved to sink to your knees without him having to say anything—leaving him to miss the feel of your tits against his naked chest.

Geto's hand came to the top of your head carefully as you tugged at his dark slacks, letting them plunge to the floor so that his erect cock could spring free. The man swears he caught a little twinkle in your eye upon watching how his dick came slapping up against his abdomen. Perhaps you were a bit more passionate about your job than he'd realized.

His cock was unduly thick, tannish length standing tall and curved whilst it dripped excessively with precum from the plump tip. You were salivating before you'd even copped a proper feel.

Your eyes flicked upward and he peered down at you expectantly, cocking a brow as if to ask what was taking you so long. You never cared much for being rushed but something told you that his neediness would somehow make everything worth it soon enough.

Then your mouth met his tip and you licked slowly, savoring the new taste of him on your tongue. He groaned faintly before moving to thread his fingers into your hair for a better grip on your head, his hips instinctively rocking forward. Your lips stretched around his cock as you swallowed him in, drool spilling out from the sides and quick to make a mess of your face.

Geto wasn't hesitant in fucking your mouth, especially with how good you were at using it. Your tongue did these tricks against him that he'd never felt before and it had his balls aching for release within a matter of minutes.

Hell, it had him thinking maybe he should've visited a brothel sooner!

"Jus' like that," Came from his purring tongue, "Take every inch of me-, fuck—mhmm, stretch that throat out. That's perfect." He grunted, voice laced with a nasty cadence.

You'd gag slightly as he knocked against the back of your throat, but it was a feeling you'd grown quite used to over time so you've come to enjoy it more than anything. Geto didn't take much longer to use your mouth as if it were specifically shaped to accommodate the size of his fat cock.

When he felt himself growing close, he plucked you right off of him and let the slops of saliva web all in between his tip and your chin. Then he'd hauled you up and tossed you onto the bed, abandoning thoughts of his own pleasure just to come spread your legs and kneel himself between them.

It wasn't unusual for clients to eat you out per-se, but it was quite uncommon.

Surging forward with no preamble, Geto buried his face into your sappy folds, his tongue coming forward with a spongey greeting to soak in your arousal. In the midst of this, you caught the man smiling like he'd proved something to himself just from getting a taste of you. Whatever that something was is entirely unbeknownst to you but, it matters little in the long run.

"Suguru," You tested, letting his name fall from you for the first time and watching how he instantly ground his hips forward to rub his bare cock against the bedsheets.

His lips were glistening in the remnants of you as his head fwipped upwards, "Again, pretty. Say it like you mean it." Geto ordered.

You did exactly that whilst he dove right back in, his hand coming out of seemingly nowhere to add two fingers into you and stretch you open on par with the rotational laps of his tongue.

"Mmngh! Sugu-, shit.." You huffed breathlessly beneath him and the workings of his mouth.

It seemed as though the sudden nickname you spewed was enough to send him into this feral state of feasting, mouth widening against your pussy just to suck 'n kiss alllll over you like you deserved to be sucked 'n kissed on. Your fingers tangled into his hair somewhere along the way but it began to grip and tug as you felt your orgasm approaching.

The skin of your thighs caged his head as your voice grew loud enough to escape the otherwise sound-proof walls of the room.

Directly after your orgasm flooded both his tongue and his thick fingers, Geto had no plans on letting you recover from it.

That first night with him was quick in the best way imaginable.

Geto rose to position his achy cock at your entrance, letting the head smack! in between your puffy folds a couple times before he started pushing in. Your hands went out to grip at the surrounding sheets and you whined whilst he stretched you out.

He was the first client of yours to ever make you feel so immersed in the acts of sexual pleasure, but far from the last.

He waited for the walls of your cunt to adjust to his thick size before he worked a steady pace into you, soon fucking you in a way that's simply incomparable to what you were used to. Your body rocked and rocked against the bed with his every thrust, his hands moving from the sheets to your hips, then to your breasts just to squeeze your body like he felt you needed.

One moment he was groaning and grunting above you about how good you felt, and the next his hands were on the undersides of your thighs, forcing your body to bend how he wanted as his voice curved all into your ear.

"Tell me something," He husked heavily, his hair framing your body with the way it fell out all messily. "How many cocks do you actually enjoy taking, hm?"

You choked.

Sure, men had asked you questions like that before but... most weren't too concerned with the others that you'd been with.

Cunt clenching around him, "I-I... I don't know-, nngh!"

At that, Geto had lifted himself just enough to grab ahold of your face like he'd done earlier, staring your dead in the eyes whilst his hips came rocking down into you—cock fucking the air right out of your lungs. "Well, when you make faces like that... I can't help but feel like mine is the only correct answer, no?"

It was your first night with the man and yet, you knew for a fact you had him right were you wanted him. A few have gotten addicted to you in the past, sure. But their pockets never aligned with their desires.

Not like Geto's did.

He eventually emptied himself into you, and wound up leaving you with a tip large enough to prevent you from working at all if you wished it so.

Then he became a recurring customer. Actually, scratch that, Geto Suguru became the recurring customer (for a while, anyway).

If you were with someone, he'd have them quickly dismissed and pay three times whatever the person you were with had been charged plus some just to make it happen.

Not only that, but he also showed up unmasked after his first night with you. You're unsure why exactly he did that when all this did was bring about attention to you.

Words of your successfully seductive nature spread all across the lands because of him, reaching places you never could've imagined for yourself.

...Such as the Fire Nation.

Or, more specifically, the Fire Nation's palace.

——

With Geto highlighting your sexual talents, you got new clients of all sorts. Other well-renowned jujutsu sorcerers, the most talented of benders from varying nations, etc.

The madam of your brothel helped you to maintain appearances, slowly viewing you differently over time, and eventually realizing that you were becoming her most starred worker—keenly peeping the investment she'd have to put into you in order to keep this flow of high societal members coming.

Your older garments, albeit nothing wrong with them, were quickly replaced with new silks that were more intricate and softer—fitting for a woman of your stature now. Your room had been moved higher within the building, farther from the bumbling noise of the common floor, and closer to those who could afford the best discretion.

Even the way your coworkers spoke to you had shifted. Some interacted with you whilst carrying awe in their eyes, others moving with resentment.

But through all this, Geto kept coming back, continued to remain your most devoted and loyal client.

That is, until Fire Lord Zuko waltzed in one night.

You were tucked into the comforts of your room when he'd visited the brothel, deaf to the commotion occurring just beyond your door.

Whispers flooded the hallways just outside, along with shocked gasps, attemptive passing touches, and failed glances of seduction as he made his way towards your room. Then came one firm knock to your door, the sound loud enough to startle you a bit.

You abandoned whatever it was you were tending to and made haste in approaching the door. As you moved to open it, you were left star-stuck from the sight of regal fabrics alone. Before you even looked up to see who was under said fabrics, you felt your heart lurch in your chest.

Then you peeked upwards and gasped rather animatedly, the folded fan you had in your hand fluttering to the floor. "L-Lord Zuko," You stammered in shock.

It was instantaneous the way you let your head lower into a rightful bow after catching the slightest shift in his brow, to which his face had lightened up a little in surprise.

Then came the tenderness of his voice, "You... don't have to do that." Zuko breathed, moving to lightly take your hands into his own.

You lifted your chin back up shortly after, blinking all dumbfoundedly at the man, "But..." As your words trailed off, he was firm in holding both your gaze and your hands.

His skin was warm against yours, eyes gorgeous in their golden hue, and long black hair falling loose to frame some of his tall figure. It was clear that here—in this brothel with you—there was no veil of inherent royalty between you and him.

The burn scar that twisted his left eye and cheek remain bare for you to take all the way in. It was unreal to have the Fire Lord standing right in front of you like this. One could only dream of such a thing, truly.

Within the spark of a moment that dwindled between the both of you, he let himself unconsciously lean a little closer to you. Husking a soft-spoken, "I'm not the first of royal status to pay you a visit, am I?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, "No, no, of course not."

Then you let your hands depart from his and you took a step back, moving your arm out to gesture him into entering your bed chambers. Zuko seemed to be delighted by the way you regained your comfort thus far, his shoulders relaxing as he inched forward.

Just before his foot fully passed the doorway, he paused and cut his eye back over his shoulder. Everyone who he'd passed whilst making his way here had been watching that entire little interaction, but the moment Zuko looked back at them all, they'd flinched and scrammed to return to whatever mindless tasks they'd been busy with before.

With the hallway cleared from a mere glance—with the exception of one or two fire nation guards—he let out a short breath through his nose and then turned to enter your quarters, the ends of his fashionably red and gold attire fluttering behind his every step.

You shut the door behind him and pressed your forehead against it for a moment. Your heart was pounding with every lengthy second that dragged by.

Fire Lord Zuko is standing in your room.

Fire Lord Zuko is standing in your room.

Fire. Lord. Zuko. is standing. in your room.

How do you even-

"Miss..?" He calls out almost sweetly, unintentionally making you flinch out of your thoughts.

You gulp, swirling around to face him only to swirl yourself right into his chest.

When had he gotten so close?

Your hands fly up to steady yourself—lightly grabbing onto him—and you squeeze your eyes shut, "My apologies, my lord..." You mumble, "As you can see, your arrival has startled me greatly."

Something soft leaves his lungs as his hands carefully meet your arms, "Why's that?" Fuck, his voice was so warm.

Your eyes bat themself open before moving up to meet with his. "...Are you seriously asking me that?" You blurt out.

Zuko stares at you an awkward moment.

He obviously wasn't used to having anyone speak so casually to him, and while he somewhat expected it before coming into this, it still manages to catch him off guard.

Leading him to let out a harmless scoff, "Pardon me for my confusion, miss. I just thought you'd be used to nobles visiting you by now. I've heard the rumors, after all."

You stare right back at him before tilting your head cluelessly, "Rumors?"

Zuko’s eyes skim over every inch of your face, appreciating the lack of space between your body and his already. Then he smiles ever so slightly, "You don't even know what people speak of you, huh?"

Your head shakes.

"They say you're the best," He explains steadily, lifting a hand to whisk a single strand of hair away from your face, "That a single night with you is enough to heal a broken heart of any sorts."

"Does that imply that your heart is recently broken, my lord?" You tease.

His hand halts for a second. Then his grin deepens, "It's not. I'm uh... I'm only reiterating what I've heard of you."

Playfully rolling your eyes, "Well, those rumors of me are wildly dramatic."

His eyebrow raises as if to challenge your claims, “Are they?"

You stand your ground, "I do whatever is asked of me and I get paid, there's nothing more to it."

Zuko doesn’t even try to hide the way he doesn’t quite believe you. Something threading on smug flickers across his expression whilst his thumb maps out the side of your face, drawing itself down towards your mouth.

You get lost in his touch faster than you can even help yourself. Everything about Zuko is just warm—there’s hardly another way to put it. His voice is velvety and tender on your ears, never too much bass or aggressiveness in the words that leave him.

In fact, it’s the exact opposite.

Every syllable slides off his tongue with this crowned elegance that somehow doesn’t ever strike your eardrums as too entitled or belittling in any way. "And yet word of your reputation alone has led me to you." Zuko says, the tip of his thumb finally greeting your bottom lip.

The gloss resting there makes him mouth out the word pretty and you feel your breath hitching, as if his compliment weighed far more than any other you’d ever received.

"For reasons far beyond me,” You murmur in response as he thumbs your lips apart slowly.

Zuko’s hand gathers the rest of your chin into his hold to lift your head further up and he spreads your lips apart from one another fully as he whispers, "Your humbleness is honorable, sweetheart."

Something in your chest flips right then.

Sweetheart.

A nickname you’ve heard time ‘n time again. A nickname you should be used to hearing by now.

But when it comes from him…

The look in your eyes change as you push your mouth against the pad of his thumb, “I could show you some other honorable things, my lord.”

His brow furrows and you hear a breath escape him, having hitched somewhere in his throat. “That's what I'm here for, but I'm not sure honorable is the right… word...” Zuko trails off, quickly getting enamored in the way you move your mouth to take in his thumb.

He’s not entirely a stranger to seduction, but it didn’t take long for him to figure someone like you should be something much more than a mere brothel worker. If this was something you truly took passion in—surely becoming his concubine would be much more fitting.

And with your tongue rounding his thumb in a manner meant to imitate the way it later would his cock, Zuko knows he’ll be returning to this brothel many times before he’s even half way satisfied with indulging in you.

He soon plucks his thumb from your mouth and moves to grab ahold of your face, tipping his head opposite of yours, and then leaning in as if to kiss you.

Zuko slows himself just short of his lips colliding with yours and you nearly whine at the teasing gesture. The man lets your breaths mingle and swirl into one another, exchanging waves of intimacy prior to engaging in the real thing.

Then, just to work you right up, he smirks and utters, “You want it?” as if you weren’t already a melting mess of need in his palms. He didn't realize it then, but you could tell this whole thing was new to him in one way or another.

You nod almost stupidly though, “Please?”

Zuko’s lips slip down onto yours and both of you hum into the kiss almost immediately. He’s holding your face like you’re the most dearest thing to him and you’re reeling in the fact that you’re kissing the Fire Lord himself.

And then in a matter of minutes the both of you go from tentative kisses and gentle moans to the tugging of clothing and a fiery handling of one another.

Zuko very nearly shreds your robes to ash just to get his hands on your bare skin—his touches eager as he soon has your tits fondled perfectly within his palms while still working your mouth over with his own.

He’d kiss you until you were breathless and clinging to him for more, ignoring how your hands tried to dip down for his cock, and smoothly bringing his mouth down to your chest.

His lips cupped one of your nipples before you had time to react, sucking and tugging on the perky bud with much fervor. “Mmmgnh,” Zuko hummed against you whilst rolling his tongue around in pleasureful little circles.

The first night with him was nearly as fast as the first night with Geto had been. Nearly.

There were little differences between the two men when they were with you. Both seemed eager and happy to please you more than they did themselves.

Zuko spent an almost concerning amount of time slobbering against your tits before even thinking of pulling his dick out. And once he did free himself from the restraints of his regal clothing, you’d already been laid down on the mattress in the particular position he planned on taking you in.

You laid on your stomach—body decorated and smothered in all sorts of markings induced from Zuko’s incessant mouth—and he was soon positioning his thighs around your own with his cock swinging out just above your ass.

When Zuko was especially turned on, bits of steam would puff out from his nose. A cute fact of which you come to pick up on over time, of course.

Sometimes you’d feel said steam caress your back when he took you from behind as he was now. The balmy head of his long cock would prod at your weepy pussy lips before he’d ease himself in, and by then, he was already a mess.

You’d push your hips back against him and he’d nearly lose his balance above you, a short huff that sounds dangerously close to a whine slipping right out of his lungs.

“So beautiful…” He’d coo, noticing how you shudder under the heated touch of his fingertips as they traveled the curve in your spine. Then he’d flatten his hand somewhere in the center of it and force your arch to deepen as he humped his dick into your wetly ringing cunt.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head instantly and drool danced out the side of your mouth along with a moan of his name, “F-Fuuck, Zuko.”

He adored the sound—felt himself growing wildly enamored by it with each time it dangled off of your tongue. The rumors about you were nothing compared to feeling you.

Your walls sucked him in to the hilt without him even having to move much, clenching around his cock in rhythmic motions that had his mind going blank for moments at a time. Zuko was thankful he’d had you in prone bone, otherwise you’d see just how red ‘n pink his cheeks had colored over just from fucking you.

Even so, he couldn’t control the sounds he let out. The way he’d grunt and then thrust as if to distract you from it, loving how you continued to gasp out directly after.

Up until you’d angled your head back to look at him, a gorgeously cockdrunk look dazzling over your glossy eyes. He’d never seen something so sinfully beautiful in his life.

Zuko’s hips were snapping down into you faster than he realized, his hand moving to your chin to force your head further back the moment you tried to look away from him. The nerve you had to give him a taste of such a perfect expression just to hide it from him seconds later.

How rude.

His body craned down and his face was mere centimeters from yours as his cockhead thrashed against the inner depths of your cunt. The two of you panted and moaned in sync, his jaw slacking from how good it felt to be inside you whilst fucking you into making that addictive expression.

It wasn’t until he was getting close that you felt his balls smack smack smacking! against your skin harder, and the faint smell of something burning coming from somewhere to your left.

There’d been incidents in the past—especially with fire benders—where silk sheets had been burnt within the brothel. You were no stranger to the scent, you knew exactly what it was without having to place your eyes on it.

Even so, your head ached to turn and locate the source of the fiery smell, but Zuko wasn’t having it. His veins trailing his cock throbbed and he groaned out all loudly as he kept your head in place with a steeling grip.

Huffing, “Shit-, i-ignore it.” as he continued on, despite the smell getting stronger.

You gasped and your body was conformed entirely to his hold on you, “But-, ah! You’ll burn something, my—“

“Say my name,” The Fire Lord demanded all of a sudden, his brow pressing inward as frustration built up across his face.

“Zuko,” You whined, “The sheets will—“

Again cutting you off, he tipped your head further up and swallowed up your words by kissing you. You struggled to kiss him back properly because of how mean his hips were coming down on you, but you tried your best.

When he finally pulled his mouth from yours, you saw how blissed-out his eyes had been. “Ignore the burning, focus on my cock. I know how to-, fuck.. how to control myself. No fires will be—god, you feel so good—c-caused… I promise.”

Even as he tried to reassure you, he was actively burning a hole into your favorite sheet set. Of course, these could be easily replaced by him—but it was the principle of it all, y’know?

His cock twitched inside you in sync with the flickering flames coming from his fingertips. You began to drool and he panted above you, letting his grunts and faint whines speak for his feels of pleasure instead of his tongue. The bedding was left singed due to his flames but you didn't mind it too much.

At least, considering how he most definitely pays you more than you ever could've imagined for yourself.

He ended up cumming somewhere on your back, with his dick going flaccid just between your ass cheeks shortly after. Your head fell down into the sheets and you found yourself smiling at the fact that the Fire Lord just fucked you.

You didn't mean to brag buuut... no one else could say that happened to them!

Those flames of his died out just after he calmed down and he soon fell to your side, his eyes going up to the ceiling to relish in what he'd just done.

Zuko had been stressed for weeks, months even, but that first night in the brothel with you was more than enough to motivate him for the next upcoming days.

Which is precisely why he kept coming back. Over and over and over and over again until he was just as recurring of a customer as Geto had been.

——

This routine of yours was manageable enough for a time. A long time, in fact.

Months went by before your time spent with Geto and Zuko separately ever conflicted with one another. But, of course, it was only a matter of time before they'd cross paths.

The beloved brothel of yours was alive 'n thriving with its usual throng up until a servant had come banging on your door all urgently, calling your name out with her voice shaking as if freightened.

Her voice quakes from outside your door, "Two arrivals, miss—L-Lord Zuko and.. and Lord Geto. They're both requesting y-"

"Send them in," You call back to her before her statement could even find its end.

"Together?" She squeaked.

You finally approached the door and move to swing it open, flashing a her a gorgeously perfected smile at the frightened lady, "Why, of course."

"...But miss, they're both demanding to see you separately." She warned.

"No matter," Your hand moved to wave off her words, "If they want me as badly as they so claim, they'll come to me regardless of who else decides to do the same."

The servant bats her lashes at you a few times, by far deeming you as the craziest lady currently occupying this brothel. It's not that serving two clients at the same time was uncommon, but the fact that you wanted to take in your highest paying clients—two men of very high status—at the same time...?

You had guts. Perhaps the attention you'd been receiving lately had gone to your head? Suppose Lord Zuko set this entire place ablaze simply because he doesn't feel like sharing, what then—

"The longer you stand there staring at me, the more impatient my gentlemen grow," You remind the poor servant, snapping her out of her gaze.

She blinks repetitively before bowing sharply and then turning on her heels. Then you watch her rush down the hall to go fetch your desired men.

You disappeared back into your room shortly after and patiently waited for your door to fly back open, this time with your sought-after guests. It'd been quite some time since you'd participated in a threesome so, part of you was definitely thrilled at the prospect.

And luckily for you, Geto nor Zuko cared much—or at all, really—about who the other guest coming to see you was. They even came bursting into your room together, Zuko first and Geto following closely behind him.

It was obvious without a word that they'd had enough time on the walk towards your quarters to discuss what was to take place. You could tell by the way they came in all silent.

Before this, you'd known both men to become more talkative over time when they came to see you. Geto would preach to you about his beliefs that you definitely didn't care about and Zuko would spend his free time with you to vent about the weight of royal responsibilities resting on his shoulders.

You enjoyed these things from them, of course. But at the end of the day, you had a role to play. A job to do.

And tonight—despite the both of them entering your room together—was absolutely no different. It was here nor there what few words were exchanged between the time it took for them to get themselves undressed and for you to figure out how exactly they'd decided on sharing you tonight.

All you know is that one moment they were slowly taking off their garments as you watched patiently—awaiting some sort of direction—and the next, Zuko's mouth was on yours.

You wanted to ask them how they decided on who'd get to do what first, especially considering that they're two entirely different people but neither of them gave you a chance to do so.

Luckily enough, your question is answered somewhere after Zuko kisses you until you were a drooling mess between your thighs and Geto lapped away at said drooling mess.

The room was heavy-, nearly clouded with the mixed scent of arousal and sweat, sheets rumpled up from the rapidly escalating actions. First you were between making out with Zuko while Geto did the same with your cunt, and then you found yourself positioned between them.

It was in that same position—arched over like some slut as Geto moved himself behind you, hand gripping over your ass whilst his cock rubbed between your cheeks—that the two finally started releasing more than a moan or a grunt.

You'd argue that Geto started it off by saying, "Ah, look at you.." after gliding his cock neatly in between your sodden folds. He thrust forward once and watched how your ass came bouncing against his sharp pelvis. Then he huffed, "Such a sweet girl, always sucking me in like you missed me-, fuck. Did you miss me, gorgeous?"

Your jaw fell open to reply to him but you were crudely cut off by Zuko, who was busy nudging his cock in between your lips. When your eyes lifted up, you saw how he had a bulky arm over his face as if to his his expression from you. Even so, his other hand was busy working his shaft down the center of your tongue—as if whatever Geto was saying to you wasn't worthy of any sort of response.

You found it funny at first, but then they started to go back 'n forth.

Zuko was matching the pace Geto was quick to set in a matter of seconds, your body left to wobble back and forth between them.

"No one pleases me like you do," Zuko murmured, the sudden praise catching you by surprise. "Fuck-," his voice pitches and you caught how his eyes fluttered. Then his hips ever so carefully grind forward, his balmy tip pressing a smear of precum down your throat and leaving a slopped smooch at the back of it.

Your cheeks hollowed out then and Geto was left to feel the way your cunt suddenly soaked around his dick. His hands latched onto your hips and you shuddered in pleasure upon feeling his fingers ground into your skin as his snapped forward a little sharper.

It was like he was competing with Zuko—silently trying to figure out who could hit the best spots inside you and say the right things just to get you wetter. Unfortunately for the crowned man in front of you, Geto's sneakily slipping a hand under you to swish the pads of his fingers over your clit 'n bring you to a quick orgasm on his cock.

Boasting about it directly after as a crooked smile crafts itself into his face, "There's that sloppy mess I was lookin' for. Shit-, I love the way you feel when you cum on me like that."

"Mmgh-, mmpfh!" You're mumbling against Zuko's dick. What exactly you were trying to say is lost to both men, as they mutually assume you were simply moaning.

Zuko's attention is caught by the man behind you though. His eyes flicking over to him as his arm drops from his face and he frowns. Mumbling, "She only did that cause of me..."

"Oh yeah?" Geto looks up immediately, cocking his head left while keeping his girth dormant inside your gummy walls. He gives you some time to focus more on sucking Zuko off properly, and delightedly enjoys in the way your pussy smothers his cock in a thin shimmery layer of release. "And what exactly makes you think that, your highness?" He mocks.

The Fire Lord rolls his eyes, "Well, she's—ah, heyyy," he looks down at you, "At least give me a second to t-talk, won't you?"

You drunkenly peer up at him, his cock still bulging in between your swollen lips. A trickle of saliva drips down and falls in between the valley of his balls, leading Zuko to shiver as his hand grips onto your head tightly.

Doing his best to ignore you anyway, his attention moves to Geto again. "As I was trying to say... she likes-, hah, getting her throat fucked," He points out with an intentionally jerky thrust of his hips, leading your jaw to ache for a split second from how deep in your trachea he was reaching.

Geto pulls himself out of you, dick flitting up into the air with droplets of your arousal hanging from it in dewy little strings. He glances at the sinful display for a second and uses his hand to grab his cock and tap it against your ass a couple times.

You let out another hum or two against Zuko in reaction.

To which Geto chuckles, "Yeahhh, I don't think she came because of you at all. But, I'll let you think that."

Zuko all but pouts upon hearing that. It was almost as though his honor or something was being contested with those words. So, he releases a chuff and practically snatches his length out of your warm facial cavern. "I don't take kindly to being challenged," He claims, ignoring your mouth that's steadily pressing forward for more.

"Nobody's challenging you, Lord Zuko." Geto shot back before moving his hands up into a surrendering gesture and shutting his eyes calmly. "Alls I'm saying is that she came on my cock, not yours-," His eyes opened slowly and his arrogant expression fell, "Uh, what're you doing?"

"Proving you wrong," Zuko answered casually as if he weren't currently hauling you up into his arms and spreading you out into a particularly debauched full nelson. You feel the firmness of his muscles rubbing against all sorts of crevices and nooks of your skin, only making you soak more.

His arms had hooked under your knees, folding your body into that perfect hold—your arms pinned behind your back, and plush thighs spread out widely. Your pussy was on full display, poor folds puffy 'n wet, exposed to Geto's hungry gaze as he watched intently.

"Like..." Geto blinks once-, twice upon seeing you spread out so broadly. "Like that?"

Zuko tuts, "Obviously."

You're squirming, naturally, but neither of them pay any mind to that either. Not your first—nor last—time in this position but fuck if it hadn't been a whiiiiiile since you'd been held up in such a precarious position.

"Hah. Fine then," Geto moves to slouch back against the bed, "Fuck her good, Fire Lord. Show me how uh," He nearly forgets his wording just from watching the other man's cock nudge up into position, "...Royal seed marks its territory, yeah?"

"Tch." Oh, Zuko was so annoyed.

With the way they were acting now, you hardly understood how the hell they agreed to share you in the first place. There's no way—

Something warmer pressing against your entrance, warmer than anything you've felt before. It wasn't an uncomfortable temperature or anything but there was this certain heat to it that made you flinch deeper into Zuko's grasp on you.

Then came his voice at the shell of your ear, "Feel that?" he whispered, hands holding you steady.

You shuddered, "Y-Yeah. Why're you so-, ah!"

He was pushing up into you before you had much time to question him. Zuko didn't need questions, he just needed to be snug inside that slobbering pussy of yours, stuffing you full of himself, and soon having you cream around him far more than you did on Geto.

...And if it took making his cock feel significantly different than Geto's did inside you via slight manipulation to the heat surrounding it, then so be it! You'd never have a moment long enough to question it anyways.

Y'know, since you're much too busy getting fucked dumb on his cock shortly after its slotted inside you. You're promptly displayed in front of Geto—who couldn't stop himself from tugging at his dick to the sight even if he tried—and your body feels almost tingly as Zuko plunges in and out of you.

He so easily lifted you up 'n down his cock, your pussy struggling to keep up with the pace as it squelched and left slicks of creaming arousal alllll over him.

The position allowed Zuko to hit deeper than he ever had before—arguably even deeper than Geto had too. Filthy juices slicked his cock, drooling down to his heavy balls whilst he bounced you in his arms.

You found your orgasm more times than you can count in that position but it took Zuko a bit to get there himself since he'd put so much focus and energy into getting you to cum on him harder than you did on Geto.

And even after, by the time he's obscenely thrusting his own load into you, Geto still looks as though he's got something up his sleeve.

The cult leader had spilt into his hand already but that mattered little, as he had one more thing in mind in order to win this imaginary competition he'd set.

Zuko pulled out of you and lowered your used body down gently onto the bed right in front of Geto. A mix of your release and his seed leaked out from inside you. He moved a hand to the top of your head to pat you softly and wiped sweat from his brow before casting Geto a glance, "There. I win."

The sly man smirked, "Did you?"

"I did," Zuko confirms, shrugging. "There's nothing else you can do to—"

He is oh-so-unfortunately cut off by Geto moving forward to nestle in between your legs.

Zuko clears some shakiness out of his throat, "You... You're not about to do what I think you are... r-right?"

Geto merely winks at the man before pushing your jittery legs apart. Your back falls towards Zuko, who easily catches you, and is left to watch Geto angle downwards.

Your pussy glistened with the evidence of Zuko spilling into you, a milky white left to leak from your hole. "How pretty," was the last thing Geto murmured before he did the unimaginable and dove in.

His tongue came in flat and broad as it lapped at your folds, just nasty in the way he scooped up the mingled folds onto it.

He sucked appreciatively on your cunt but you were whimpering above him, tugging at his hair and then pushing at him because your head's all confused with pleasure and the back to back stimulation. Geto's tongue swished around your clit before he sucked on it, and you gasped.

Your hand flew somewhere before you were clutching onto both Zuko's arm and Geto's head as the man cleaned you.

Zuko transfixed on the sight for a long timed before you heard him say, "Doing something so filthy for her pleasure..." He managed a smile in between his words, "How honorable."

Geto plucked his mouth away then, just to respond. "What's with you and this honor thing, huh?"

"Just take the compliment," Zuko hummed.

"Give me a normal one and perhaps I will."

"That is a normal one."

You snort wearily, "Zuko, my dear, there is... hahhh, n-nothing normal about you and your fixation on things being honorable."

To which he puffs, "Whatever."

tags (1/2):

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Everything was happening much too fast.

The man whom you’ve been diligently serving for the past few years was requesting your consent to touch you intimately so suddenly that you felt as though you were dreaming.

It’s not like you haven’t imagined it before—hell, look at him! Everyone in the Fire Nation has indulged in a fantasy or two, it’d be strange if they didn’t. Especially if they were in your shoes, being so close to him at nearly every waking hour and getting to know him on levels beyond regolness.

So when his lordship humbly requested that you sit yourself on his throne and let him give you a nice feel of what your purpose is to him, it was only natural that you succumbed to the years of not-so-hidden need that has been weighing itself on your shoulders.

Heart pounding in your chest, none of your imaginations of the past could ever quite compare to the real thing of watching the fire lord lower himself down to his knees, bring his hands to your legs, and steadily part them open whilst constantly whispering gentle confessions in hopes of insuring you're entirely comfortable with this.

Truth be told, he'd always had a bit of a crush on you—having taken quite the liking to you from the day he'd chose you to be his royal advisor.

It was an odd sensation for you to find yourself seated where Zuko typically commands the nation, especially with the way he'd loomed before you with a hint of delectable saliva building up at the corners of his mouth. You barely caught on to the way he'd asked you to undress yourself before him—to bare your body for his greedy eyes to take in—before his hands were virtually everywhere.

There was a sense of heat felt from his faintly shaking palms, as if this were the most nerve-wracking act he'd ever participated in. You were steady in your undressing, considering you needed some sort of moment to prepare yourself for what was to come.

By the time you found yourself naked—regal, advisory robes splayed out against his throne as your body sat all prettily perched upon it—Zuko was all but drooling. You'd seen his lordship make many expressions over the years but this—this was unlike anything you'd ever seen before.

And it was all for you.

In the next instance, Zuko was gripping onto your knees, letting his fingers touch with a certain firmness as he spread your legs apart. Your limbs felt mushy under his skin and you already felt your lungs struggling to maintain a steady flow of oxygen. You had an arm coming up to hide your flushing face before he'd even gotten anywhere with you and he couldn't help but crack a cheeky smile at the display.

Who knew his dutiful advisor—who'd just threatened to leave him mere moments ago, mind you—could make such cute expressions from the slightest of touches?

"Relax," Zuko cooed gently, leaning forward to lightly kiss at your inner thigh, "I'm only trying to help you understand your purpose."

Breath hitching, "My lord, I really don't think-"

His tongue rolls out along the inside of your leg and you flinch as if you'd never been touched before. This was the Fire Lord, after all. Having him like this-, watching him do something so obscene...

"You don't need to think," He hushes out to you, the curve in his lips felt right against your tensed skin, "Not now, anyway. Just feel. Can you do that for me?" It took you a few seconds but, eventually, you nodded your head. To which he cracks a smile, "Atta' girl."

Then his head traveled further up and you held eye contact with him whilst his mouth slipped over to cup the soaking lips of your cunt. Those same fiery amber-shaded eyes of his roll back almost instantaneously, a rumbling groan pouring out from deep within the pit of his stomach in reaction to the taste of you on his tongue.

And you expected him to let this go? As if.

You clasped your lip tightly in between your teeth, your hands moving out to grip onto the arms of the throne as you braced yourself, hips jerking forwards ever so slightly to meet the feel of Zuko's hot tongue. A sloppy trail of saliva is left in the wake of every flick from his oral muscle, the hum he lets out against you enough to have your legs squirming around under his touch.

There's a smooth sound of schliiiick that rings out though the throne room, the noise surely loud enough for someone beyond its large walls to hear. Not that you or him seem to care, though.

Whines 'n moans are easily pulled from somewhere in your throat as his mouth maneuvers suavely to capture the entirety of your saccharine taste onto the center of his tongue.

Your back soon slumps against the throne, leaving you to stare in awe at the starving lord of a man who's cravings could only be satisfied through the taste of your sloppy cunt. There's a feeling of paranoia haunting you from somewhere within your gut that at any moment now a person could knock on the throne room doors or simply burst right in with an urgent matter but, ask Zuko if he cares!

Spoiler alert: he doesn't.

The tips of his tongue dive and dip all around the very ends 'n ins of your pussy, lapping out the most provocative of gushes form deep within you. You're a blissed-out mess of moans before he even thinks to pull himself up for a moment to breathe. And by then, your hands have buried themself into his long lushes locks of hair, tugging and pulling at his head as your teeth tatter against themself in an honest attempt at maintaining even the slightest fracture of your composure.

Then Zuko's body shifts forward and suddenly his tongue his snaking its looong self past your folds, wetly spreading you open on it. Your back arches almost immediately and you think your eyes cross just as your fingers scrape over his scalp.

Zuko's head tilts ever so slightly to lick at your insides at a circularly different angle, tongue plucking itself in and out of your gushy entrance simply to have your arousal leaking all down the expanse of his jawline.

When the man tugs himself away to gasp, he's only diving back in half a second later to kiss over your clit and then smear the tip of his tongue around it—showcasing to you that his skills go beyond mere fire bending and that his tongue has learned how to bend the feel of a new element to you.

Something raw jumps out of your throat and you pant out his name whilst he shakes his head into you and then proceeds to respond to your calls by spelling his name out around your clit.

Then come his fingers—and fuck if they aren't farrr thicker than you were prepared for, initially prodding at your drooling hole, and then carefully pushing into you after a mere tease to that clingy ring of resistance he's met with.

Your lower lip pushes out and you moan just past it, earning his attention for the first time in a while as his eyes come up to find your lewdly-set expression.

"Ah," Using a free hand to wipe some of the slick from his mouth, Zuko moves up towards you and keeps his fingers working your insides, "Don't pout. You can take this much," He encourages, a second digit carefully slipping into you. "See? Two of my fingers, buried so deep inside you like that..." His words earn a particularly filthy squelch. "Shit, you should feel honored by this, sweetheart."

You manage a huff at that, nails chafing into the arm of the throne again, "Y-You and that damn-, ngh, honor..."

He snickers, his thumb poking forward to plumply round your clit, "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't feel honored to have me this devoted to you."

"Zuko," You moan instead of answering correctly.

Letting it slide due to his soft spot for you, he merely sighs. "Please understand that this is your purpose to me, not abandoning me to go whisper in the ears of Earth Kingdom fools." Zuko explains to you, voice coming out in warm waves against the crown of your ear, "Understood?"

You nod, "Y-Yes, Zuko."

His head cocks to the side, fingers jolting up against your slicked walls to curl, "You address me so formally any other time but now..." He pulls away a few inches to cast his eyes over your expression, fully appreciating how gorgeously you fall apart on just two of his fingers.

He can only begin to imagine how satisfying it would be to see you do the same on his cock. Fuck, you probably wouldn't even be able to handle that, would you?

No, but you'd damn sure try if he let you...

Meeting his gaze, "Yes, my lord." You correct in a short whisper.

For the first time ever, Zuko realizes the title doesn't sound so bad coming from you.

At least, not in this context since his cock promptly hardens through his robes in reaction to that sweet, sweet tone of yours.

He would've spelt his name out into your cunt and split you open on his fingers a long time ago if he knew this would be the result!

A smirk splays out across his wet mouth and he leans in, his breath mingling with your own, "Cum for me, my advisor. Show me where your loyalties lie."

That quickly sends you right over the edge, your cunt clenching and twitching all around his fingers as one of your hands move out to clutch onto his royal clothing.

Breathlessly puffing, "F-Fuuck.."

Zuko watches you closely the entire time, loving the way your thighs quiver, and how good your pussy feels releasing onto his hand.

Only leaning away as you're done to murmur, "See? Now, tell me again about leaving?"

(not proofread, GULP) || banner art by Rororogi Mogera || tags:

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you could have said it was the way of the world. you could have reminded him that your own past carried bruises just as deep, maybe deeper, scars you rarely spoke of. instead you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, warm and steady, and said, “listen to me zuko. right now and forever, i’m here for you. because i want to be here. because you matter to me.”

that night something inside his chest shifted, small and fragile and terrifyingly bright. he had grown up knowing only the sharp edges of power, the cold absence of his mother, the calculated disdain of his sister, and the burning disappointment of his father. familial love had been barely an atom, flickering out before he could ever hold it. uncle iroh’s gentle wisdom had been the single flame keeping him from freezing entirely.

but you… you chose kindness — you chose him.

you chose to pack his things with perfect folds while the others’ bundles looked like wham bam thank you ma’am. you chose to save the ripest berries for his share when foraging. you chose to sit beside him on watch, sharing silence that felt safe instead of empty. you chose to mend the tear in his sleeve with tiny, careful stitches. you chose to smile at him across the campfire like he was someone worth smiling at. you chose to defend him gently when sokka teased too hard, turning the moment into something light instead of sharp. you chose to remember the stories he told about his mother and ask about her on quiet mornings, letting him speak her name without it hurting quite so much.

every small act stacked like kindling around the lonely boy still living inside the scarred young man. and zuko, who had known no love at all, felt the first warm sparks of something new catching inside him, slow, sweet and undeniable.

you had taught zuko what unconditional love even meant, drop by drop, day by day, ever since that strange afternoon in the woods when he wore the blue mask and you were just a girl searching for medicine to help your friends. he still remembered the exact way your voice sounded, scared but steady, explaining why you were there. from that moment his heart, began learning how to beat properly, how to open, how to love without fear of being burned.

and after everything… after the war, after the long hard road to respite, he knew without any doubt that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life loving.

so in the quiet garden on the outskirts of the palace, the one his mother used to take him to when their family felt too heavy, he dropped to one knee among the blooming fire lilies and asked, voice barely above a whisper,

“will you marry me?”

you laughed, quiet and surprised, which made his ears turn a shade of pink and his hands tremble just a little. you explained, still smiling, that he never even asked you to be his girlfriend. 

but then you said yes anyway, 

and something inside him clicked into place. like the final piece of a long broken puzzle. since that day he had been closer to enlightenment than he ever thought possible, simply because it was you.

you loved him through every storm. when the nightmares came and he woke drenched in sweat, gasping for air, you were already there, arms sliding around him without hesitation, holding him close until his breathing evened out. you fetched him cool water, pressed damp rags to his forehead, whispered gentle words of encouragement against his hair until the ghosts retreated. when old memories rose up and he snapped without meaning to, you never flinched. you simply waited, then took his hands and reminded him he was safe now, that he was allowed to be human. every outburst, every shaky moment, you met with patience and understanding that still left him in quiet awe.

because you chose to love him like that, he chose, every single day, to love you the same way in return. 

his version of love was soft, awkward, and brand new, like learning to walk again in uncharted territory, but it was entirely his. and he was grateful you allowed him this chance.

he built a statue of you in one of the palace courtyards, even though you had politely declined the idea at first. when you finally saw it, nervous at the grandness, you noticed the inscription at the base: “the woman who triumphed our family curse.” the words made your eyes sting with happy tears.

he named the new women’s school after you, the one dedicated to teaching young firebenders and earthbenders and waterbenders how to use their gifts to heal the world instead of harm it. he remembered every quiet conversation you had shared about wanting to guide girls who dreamed of doing better, and he made it real. when he told you, you cried again, touched that he had remembered that dream so carefully in his heart.

but it wasn’t only the grand gestures. it was the everyday care that made your chest feel warm and full.

he always wrapped his arms around you softly yet protectively whenever you walked through crowded streets or busy halls, because you had once mentioned how much you disliked feeling swallowed by too many people. his body became your shield, one hand resting gently at the small of your back, the other curled around your waist, guiding you through the noise while his warmth kept the world at a comfortable distance.

when you sat together in the evenings reading or hes able to get respite from politics, he would carefully lift your feet into his lap without a word, his scarred hands surprisingly tender as he massaged away the ache from long days of walking or helping others. his thumbs moved in slow, careful circles, working out every knot while he watched your face to make sure the pressure was just right, never too hard, never rushing. it became one of your favorite unspoken rituals, the way he poured all his quiet devotion into making sure even the smallest discomforts melted under his touch.

and every night before sleep, no matter how late the duties of the fire lord kept him, he would pull you close under the heavy silk blankets, tucking your head beneath his chin so your ear rested right over his heart. one arm stayed wrapped securely around your shoulders, the other hand tracing lazy, soothing patterns along your spine or brushing stray hairs from your forehead. he held you like you were something precious gold, his breathing slow and steady against your hair, until both of you drifted off wrapped in the same safe, warm cocoon he had never known he could create for someone else.

but of course,

his favorite way to show his love had always been the way he adorned your body,  such as this particular day.

you had just finished your evening routine, the soft silk robe hugging your frame and slipping gently off one shoulder, exposing a sliver of warm skin that caught the low lantern light. zuko stepped out of the bath, droplets still tracing lazy paths down his chest and shoulders, a towel slung low around his hips. the moment he rounded the corner into your shared chambers and saw you there, he stopped dead in his tracks, breath catching in his throat.

he murmured your name, voice low and rough with something deeper than exhaustion.

your smile bloomed in the mirror, soft and knowing. you set the little powder puff down on the vanity and turned to face him, the movement making the robe shift just a little more. “hi honey,” you said gently, eyes warm with affection. “how was the meeting?”

“it was okay,” he answered, stepping closer, “i’m hopeful. but, i’m exhausted.” he leaned down, intending to press a kiss to your forehead, one hand brushing his damp hair back so it wouldn’t drip onto you. you tilted your face up to meet him halfway, and instead your lips found his in a quiet, lingering touch.

he smiled against your mouth, the tension in his shoulders easing just from that single connection. “how was your day?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled back only enough to look at you.

“it was good,” you replied, reaching up to trace a thumb along his jaw. “really good.”

his gaze softened, then darkened with that familiar, tender hunger. he dipped his head again, this time pressing slow kisses along the side of your neck, warm and unhurried. his hands found your shoulders, thumbs working in gentle circles to massage away the day’s quiet weight, kneading the muscles with careful strength while his lips continued their soft exploration.

“you feel so good under my hands,” he breathed against your skin, the words vibrating through you. every touch was deliberate, sweet, like he was reminding himself that you were real, that you were his, that he was allowed to love you like this.

the robe slipped a little further down your shoulder as his fingers trailed lower, tracing the line of your collarbone with light strokes. he kissed the newly exposed skin, slow and lingering, then moved back up to capture your lips again, deeper this time.

his palms slid down your arms, then back up, coaxing the robe to loosen even more until it pooled loosely around your waist. he didn’t rush. he never rushed with you. instead he savored every sigh you gave him, every small shift of your body toward his, learning you all over again with every caress.

“let me take care of you tonight,” he whispered, forehead resting gently against yours, eyes half-lidded and full of quiet devotion. his hands roamed lower.

he put his arms under your knees, around your back, tilting you gently before lifting you up in a smooth carry. you wrapped your arm around his neck and yelped in surprise, laughing softly as you were caught off guard by the sudden lift, your robe slipping even more as you clung to him.

he carried you the few steps to the bed with careful, steady strides, his hold warm and protective, then laid you down on the silk sheets

he unraveled your robe with slow, aching fingers, letting the fabric fall open and pool around you so he could see every inch of skin he loved so much.

you said his name softly, almost like a sigh, “zuko…”

he leaned down right away, pressing his lips to the curve of your neck in a warm, lingering kiss. then he took a big inhale of you, slow and deep, then let the breath out against your skin like he needed it to steady himself. a low groan slipped from his throat, vibrating into you as his hand found your thigh again, squeezing gently before rubbing the spot in long, soothing strokes.

“you always smell so good,” he murmured, voice rough with quiet praise, lips brushing your pulse.

you giggled, the sound light and happy as his kisses kept trailing along your neck. “zuko, you’re tickling me,” you whispered between soft laughs, one hand threading into his still damp hair.

he shook his head a little, smiling against your skin without pulling away. “good,” he teased gently, voice low and devoted, “i like hearing you laugh while i take care of you.” his mouth moved lower then, kissing a slow path from your neck to your collarbone, then down to the center of your sternum, each press of his lips soft and intentional. 

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, lips grazing just below your belly button. “all mine… and i get to love you every night.” his hands slid up your sides, thumbs tracing gentle circles over your ribs while he kissed lower still, taking his time, savoring every little shiver he pulled from you. “tell me if it feels good, okay? i want to make you feel perfect.”

you let out another soft giggle mixed with a pleased hum, fingers tightening in his hair. “it already feels perfect… you always know how to touch me.”

he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and full of that sweet devotion, and gave you one more kiss right at the dip of your hip. “because i love learning every part of you,” he said quietly, voice warm with honesty. “every sound you make… every way you move for me.”

his hands gently parted your thighs, palms warm and careful as he settled between them, shoulders flexing under the lantern light. he kissed the inside of one thigh first, then the other, slow and teasing, working his way closer while his breath ghosted over your skin. he glanced up at you again, cheeks flushed, that soft smile still playing on his lips.

“i’ve been thinking about this all day,” he admitted, pressing one last open mouthed kiss just above where you needed him most. “just… letting me taste you. letting me make you feel good.”

then he leaned in, tongue tracing a slow, devoted stripe along your clit and your breath catches. he groaned softly at the first taste of you, eyes fluttering half closed like it was the best thing he had ever known, and kept going, slow and sweet and utterly focused on you.

he started with short, teasing licks, light flicks of his tongue against your clit that made your hips twitch and a soft gasp slip from your lips. each one was deliberate, playful, like he was savoring the way your breath hitched every time he pulled back just enough to make you want more.

“i love how you react to me,” he murmured against your skin, voice warm and low, before leaning in again with those quick little strokes, teasing you open slowly, devotedly. his hands stayed attentive the whole time, palms stroking up and down the soft skin of your thighs in long, soothing glides, thumbs tracing gentle circles that matched the rhythm of his tongue.

then he shifted, going slower, a little heavier, pressing the flat of his tongue against you in languid, thorough drags that had your back arching clean off the bed with a shaky moan. he hummed in quiet satisfaction, the vibration sending sparks through you, because by now he considered himself a master of your tells: the way your fingers tightened in his hair when it felt just right, the little hitch in your breathing, the way your thighs trembled around him. he read every one of them like they were written just for him.

while he kept licking you, his hands guided your legs gently, lifting them to drape over his shoulders and around the back of his head so you could pull him even closer whenever the pleasure swelled. the new angle made everything feel impossibly good, his warm breath and soft groans mixing with your own quiet sounds until the room filled with nothing but the two of you.

his palms slid upward, slowly cupping both of your breasts with careful warmth. he gave them soft, loving squeezes, thumbs brushing over your nipples in gentle circles that matched the rhythm of his tongue, drawing another broken moan from you. his groans grew a little deeper, vibrating right into your core, the sound of his pleasure tangling sweetly with yours.

you looked down at him through teary eyes, cheeks flushed, lips parted on a soft whimper, and the sight of you like that, so open and overwhelmed and trusting, hit him so hard he had to squeeze his eyes shut tight. a low, desperate groan tore from his throat as he buried himself even deeper into your pussy, tongue working you with renewed devotion, like he needed to lose himself there before the ache in his own body could overwhelm him.

“you’re so perfect,” he whispered against you between long, heavy licks, voice rough with love and restraint. “just let me take care of you… let me make you feel everything.” his hands stayed on your breasts, squeezing softly, thumbs teasing, while his mouth never stopped, slow and sweet. utterly focused on pulling every trembling sound from your lips.

you whined his name in a soft, desperate groan, hips rolling toward his mouth without thinking. “zuko… please, it feels so good,” you gasped, voice breaking on the words as a quiet curse slipped out, “oh fuck, zuko…”

he stayed silent, completely focused, the only sounds in the room were the gentle rhythm of his tongue and the soft, slick noises of his mouth against you mixed with your breathy moans. he shifted lower then, licking your entrance over and over in long, devoted strokes, lapping up every drop of wetness that had started to flow for him like it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

his hands slid down from your breasts, palms warm and a little rough from years of training and firebending, stroking along your labia with slow, careful touches that made your whole body feel weak and trembling. the contrast of his rugged hands against your soft, sensitive skin was heavenly, sending sparks up your spine with every gentle glide of his fingers.

he looked up just in time to watch your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy, lashes fluttering, lips parted on another shaky moan, and the sight made his breath hitch against you. still he didn’t speak; he simply pressed deeper, tongue working you with quiet desperation 

then, he eased one finger inside you, listening so carefully to the soft gasp that left your lips, savoring the way your walls fluttered around him and the warm, perfect feel of you. he pumped it gently, in and out in unhurried strokes, curling just enough to find that spot that made your thighs tense around his shoulders.

his mouth returned to your clit, sucking softly now, lips closing around the sensitive bud while he kept fingering you with that same saintly patience. as time stretched sweet and slow between you he added a second finger, then a third, stretching you open so gently, so perfectly, every movement measured to draw out more of those pretty sounds from your throat.

he groaned quietly into you only once, humming through your core, but otherwise he kept going, tongue and fingers never faltering, slow heavy licks circling your clit while those three fingers pumped deep and steady inside you, curling just right against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. your walls started to flutter, squeezing around him tighter and tighter, and when the pleasure finally bloomed your whole body shook with it, thighs trembling around his shoulders as you cried out his name in a broken, breathless moan, “zuko… oh my god, zuko—”

he felt every pulse, every shiver, drinking you down like he could never get enough, only pulling back when the last aftershock rippled through you. he kissed his way up your body, slow and saccharine, until he hovered over you, lips finding yours in a deep, open mouthed kiss. you groaned into it, tasting yourself on his tongue, and he swallowed the sound like it was honey.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your mouth, voice rough and full of awe, one hand cupping your flushed cheek while the other stroked your side in soothing circles. “doing so well for me, my love… you came so perfectly, just like that. i could stay between your legs forever if you let me.”

his praise was soft and coddling at first, gentle little murmurs pressed between kisses, but the longer he held you the more it shifted, heat building low and heavy between you. his lips moved against yours again, slower this time, deeper, tongue sliding in to taste you properly while his breath grew hot and ragged. the kiss turned hungry, intimate and wet, little gasps and sighs mixing as he tilted his head to get even closer, like he needed to breathe you in. your hands slid up his bare back, nails grazing lightly, and he groaned low into your mouth, the sound vibrating through both of you.

he pulled back just enough to reach down and loosen the towel still wrapped around his waist, letting it fall away completely. his cock sprang free, hard and flushed, brushing warm against your thigh as he shifted. without breaking the kiss he moved you over, wrapping your legs around his waist with gentle hands, palms sliding down the backs of your thighs to hook them snugly in place as he pressed forward and finally entered you, slow and careful, inch by inch until he was buried deep. the stretch of him made you squeeze around his cock instantly, tight and perfect, and he groaned low against your mouth, forehead dropping to yours.

“gentle love… gentle,” he breathed, voice strained and husky, hips stilling for a moment while he fought for control. “ease up… you’ll make me cum too fast if you keep doing that.”

you nodded quickly, eyes glassy with pleasure, and forced your body to relax around him just enough. he let out a shaky exhale and started stroking again, long slow pumps in and out that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. his golden eyes stayed locked on yours the whole time, never looking away, like he needed to watch every flicker of feeling cross your face while he moved.

then his hand slid up, cupping the back of your neck gently, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you up softly to meet him. he kissed you deep and hungry, tongues sliding together while he let the last thread of restraint slip. carnal need took over for one perfect moment and he thrust hard once, a single powerful snap of his hips that punched the air from your lungs and made you moan into his mouth.

he pulled back just enough to chuckle, soft and low and a little breathless, the sound rumbling warm from the corner of his lips as they stayed pressed to yours. “sorry… couldn’t help it,” he whispered, already easing back into that sweet, steady pace, rolling his hips in deep, measured strokes that kept you both right on the edge of too much.

every other kiss he pulled away just far enough to murmur against your lips, voice rough with love and heat. “does that feel good?” another slow thrust, another kiss. “yeah? that feet good?” his mouth found yours again, wet and open, before he breathed, “oh baby… you feel so good around me… so so perfect.”

he kept that slow, deep rhythm for a little longer, hips rolling into you with the same worshipful patience, every stroke dragging deliciously against your walls until you were both breathing in the same shaky rhythm. his forehead stayed pressed to yours, eyes half lidded, drinking in every flutter of your lashes and every soft sound you made for him.

then something inside him shifted, the heat building too sweetly to hold back anymore. his pace started to quicken, thrusts growing a little faster, a little harder, still careful but now edged with that raw need he only ever let show when he was buried inside you like this. he breathed your name against your lips, voice low and rough, like saying it grounded him.

the faster he moved the more your name slipped out, tumbling from his mouth between kisses and gasps. every snap of his hips drew it out again, sweeter and more desperate, until it became a quiet chant pressed into your skin. his hand stayed cradled at the back of your neck, holding you close so he could kiss you through every thrust, tongues sliding slow and filthy while his body worked you open with building intensity.

“you feel so good… so good around me,” he groaned, the words breaking on a shaky exhale as he sped up even more, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the quiet room alongside your mingled moans. his free hand slid down to grip your hip, fingers digging in just enough to keep you anchored to him while he drove deeper, faster, chasing the way your walls fluttered and squeezed every time he hit that perfect spot inside you.

he kissed you harder then, open mouthed and breathless, pulling back only to whisper your name again. “baby… look at me,” he panted, eyes never leaving yours even as sweat beaded along his scar and his rhythm turned perfectly filthy. every thrust now punched little gasps from your throat, his cock dragging so deliciously deep that your toes curled and your back arched up into him.

“that’s it… just like that…” his voice cracked with how good it felt, the sound of your name growing more frequent, more wrecked the harder he fucked into you, like he needed to taste it on his tongue while he lost himself in your body. 

his hips snapped forward with wet, rhythmic sounds, pace relentless now but still so full of love. your name falling from his lips like a broken mantra, until you cried out his name loud and desperate, back arching hard as you gasped, “please zuko… cum inside me… please—”

he unraveled right there, eyes widening as his rhythm stuttered for half a second. “baby… are you sure??” he panted, voice wrecked and breathless, still driving into you deep and steady like he couldn’t stop even while asking.

you nodded frantically, tears of pleasure slipping down your cheeks as you begged, “yes please… please breed me zuko… i want your kids so bad… i want you to fill me up—”

that did it. the words hit him like appa(sorry). a raw groan tore from his throat, half cry, half sob of pure overwhelmed love, and he buried his face against your neck for one shaky second before he sped up, thrusts turning faster, deeper, but still so gentle with you, like even in the middle of losing control he refused to be anything but careful with your body.

he watched your face the whole time, golden eyes locked on yours, making sure every deep stroke felt perfect and that he wasn’t ruining your night routine, and never wanting to ruin even a single moment of your comfort. 

his cock dragged so deliciously inside you, hitting that spot over and over until your walls squeezed around him again, tight and fluttering, pulling another broken moan from him.

“please baby… i’m gonna cum—” he whispered, voice cracking, hips losing their perfect rhythm just a little as he teetered right on the edge.

you grabbed his face with both hands, pulling him down closer until his forehead rested against yours, and he let you, desperate and needy. his lips found yours in a messy, breathless kiss, all tongue, heat,  and love as he finally came hard, hips jerking forward one last time while he emptied himself deep inside you, pulse after warm pulse filling you exactly like you’d begged him to.

he kept kissing you through it, soft desperate sounds vibrating into your mouth, hands cradling your head like you were the most precious thing in the world while his body shook with the force of it. even then he stayed gentle, hips rolling in slow little aftershocks, making sure every drop stayed right where you wanted it, right where it belonged. and you wrapped yourself so tight around him.

“i love you… i love you so much,” he breathed against your lips between kisses, still buried deep, still holding you close like he never wanted to let go.  

a few months later,

the palace gardens felt like a dream under the warm afternoon sun. you sat comfortably under a wide awning with katara beside you, both of you gently cradling your rounded bellies as a soft breeze drifted across the lake. in the distance aang, sokka, and zuko stood near the water’s edge close to the beautiful statue that had been built in your honor, talking and laughing about something you couldn’t quite hear.

katara let out a soft giggle, her hand resting on her bump. “i can’t believe we got pregnant at the same time,” she said warmly, eyes sparkling with joy.

you giggled back, leaning your head toward her. “i know… it feels like fate. do you already know the name?”

she nodded, smiling brightly. “yes. let’s say it at the same time?”

you both counted down together, voices light and playful. “three… 

two…

one…”

“izumi,” 

“bumi,”

you both paused, then let out a sweet “aww” in unison before dissolving into quiet, happy laughter, the sound floating gently through the garden.

hip hip hooray!! dadaman is backk!! zuko nation rise tf up!! like comment and reblog!! lmk what u think!! stay tuned for more!

You pop your lips off his swollen nipples and halt your sucking for a moment just to look up at his teary-eyed face, admiring the pout he’s got on. “Zuko…” You purr with a slightly raised brow.

He angles his head back down to meet eyes with you, batting those dark pretty lashes at you as if he'd done nothing wrong, “Yes, love?”

“Are you burning through those ropes again?” You ask.

The fire lord shakes his head, “N-No..?”

“Then…" Your gaze narrows at him skeptically, "What’s that smell?”

Before he gathers his thoughts enough to answer you properly, you turn your head to see one of your nightstands on fire.

Damnit. That’s the third one this week!

Luckily enough for the both of you, the flame isn't as large as it'd been previously. Though, as you let your hand halt in jerking your lover off and try to pull away for a moment to go put the fire out, there's a stronger scent of fumes flying into your nose.

This time it's the smell of burning rope.

Followed by which is the sound of something snapping and suddenly—there's a pair of grabby hands meeting your arms and your body is being pushed right over.

A flutter of royal-red and gold fabrics scatter around your frame and drape your sides whilst your attention is redirected upwards. Panting above you is your needy husband Zuko, who's got his brows furrowed slightly and his eyes pleading as they land down on you, "Ignore it," He suggests.

You flash a confused look at him and then playfully swat at his chest, "I can't just ignore it, that's the third one this week!"

He shyly glances off to the side before muttering, "...So?"

"What do you mean so?" You scoff, "We'll have to rebuild the entire bedroom suite at this rate!"

His eyes find yours again and you feel his body coming closer to yours, flinching at the wet swipe of his drooling cockhead over your inner thigh as he adjusts himself. "You're the one who insisted on teasing me."

"You asked me to." You remind him.

"Well,” He frowns a little, “When I told you to use me, I was hoping..."

Your hands reach up to cup his face and pull him down impossibly closer—the warmth of his body enveloping you further. "Hoping what, my lord?" You whisper.

He shoots you a short-lived glare, "What'd I tell you about that?" You give him a cheeky smile and he rolls his eyes at it. "I was hoping you'd use me in here," To add emphasis to his words, his cock comes pressing against the soppy wet-spot in your panties.

"Zuko!" You gasp in surprise, earning a sleazy little smile from him.

Then comes a quick finger to swat that measly fabric out the way, his tip rushing to kiss the saturated lips of your cunt and smear the apart for entry.

Just before he can push into you, "Wait," You huff, "When and how did you break free?"

"Hm?” Zuko raises a brow, “Free of what?" He hums innocently.

Your expression is entirely unconvinced of his innocent act. Deadpanning, "You burned the ropes again, didn't you?"

Another smile paints into his perfect features before he grinds his hips down into yours, throbbing cock sliding ever-so-gracefully into you as if to distract you. Zuko leans down to your ear to whisper, "What ropes?" and you hear some sort of flame crackling in the distance.

He definitely just set something else on fire just from pushing himself into you, but it’s not like he gave you much room to care. Not with the way his dick felt easing your walls open and stretching you out in the same fashion you’d beg him to nearly every other night—if not every single night.

Surely the fire nation would be expecting an heir to the throne any day now. Though, you’re not sure this heir would come about with your bedroom in one piece…

Especially since Zuko has a bad habit of burning things when he cums.

(not proofread btw) || banner art by Rororogi Mogera || tags:

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@shesthemanluver @kayxox123

“You from here?”

Even through the tsunami of bodies swaying slowly from the hypnotic waves swimming from the speakers, you held his attention like a cherished memory. His shaded hazel stare pierced through your curves, afraid that if he looked away for just a second, someone would be in your face begging for your attention. But you kept the crowd surrounding you at bay, only the people you arrived with being allowed into your domain.

He got in with easy access—no struggle, no weird glances from your friends when he squeezed through— almost like you wanted him there.

“Nah,” you shook your head—midnight spirals woven through your many braids rocking in sync with your disagreement. “All girls college, ‘couple hours down south, Boo” Slithering, sneaky hands occupied by your waist almost had you tripping over your own words. Even with platform heels you couldn’t quite reach his towering shoulders resulting in him slightly bending over to hear you over the drunken crowd and ear splitting bass bouncing off of the walls.

He hummed, dark eyes roaming your soft features protruding through the fluorescent lights. You stared back through your full lashes, your gaze almost pulling him into a paralyzed state. You smelt sweet, like a fresh cherry pie with a vanilla finish. He’d wish you spoke more so he had a reason to emerge deeper into that aroma that swept him from his feet.

“South, huh? ‘Can hear the accent on you. What’s your name, pretty?”

His cologne was something dangerous, similar to a mermaid’s voice; once it had you, you were hooked and gone. A buzz cut dyed a deep twilight was his signature haircut, a tattoo that peeked through the ocean fuzz curved sinisterly above his pierced ear.

“⧼★⧽,” you purred into a grin, heart shaped lips spreading to reveal your teeth.

God, he was built. Now prior to even meeting him, you stalked his instagram. Safe to admit It was nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh. All of the speculations that you’ve made about him editing his muscles were thrown out of the window along with your morals.

His arms alone were an attraction ; hard muscle under soft skin, similar to a pillow stuffed with bricks. Thick veins wrapped around his arms like cords. His black shirt suffocated his torso, one wrong move you thought the fabric would give up and disintegrate on the spot.

“⧼★⧽,” he parrots softly. His thick tongue darted to the side of his lips that curved into a grin. He shrugged, “Has a ring to it. Rolls off the tongue. Sweet like candy, too”

The surrounding crowd was almost nonexistent, extras in your book that had no significance to the conclusion. You stepped closer, your gaze still holding him captive. “So..what brings you he—“

“—Look, I’m just going to keep it real with you, Connie,” His ear perked up at the call of his name, surprised that you even knew it without him mentioning it; thick eyebrows rose to his crisp, straight lineup. A red cup that he’d been babysitting since you’ve first noticed him finally touched his lips, his adams apple bobbing with each swallow of his poison.

Curved french tips toyed at his rock-hard abs that were bulging through the thin elastic. You were careful not to rake his navel piercing. Blinding jewels sparkled in the dim light as he nodded slowly to the music bleeding from the speakers.

“I heard ‘bout you Con, and to be completely transparent with you, I just want to fuck.”

He grinned at your boldness behind his cup, sharp canines flashing under the low light. “Heard ‘bout me how?”

“Jus’ some pillowtalkers.”

He hummed, nodding shyly into his cup. “‘S that how you know my name?”

You nodded with a grin. Soft fingertips raked his muscles.

“Yep.”

He hummed again. “My room or yours?”

“My room is two hours away, genius.”

“My room it is.”

Just how he weaved through the crowd, he got out the same way: quiet and light on his feet. On a mission.

Hunger fanned from his pink spit-soaked lips. Oh how Connie’s tongue worked wonders. If he wasn’t using it to talk shit then it was swirling around your puffed clit with his fingers curled softly into your velvet sponge. He worked hand-in-hand with his tongue piercing like it was his personal sidekick, forcing sounds from you that you’ve only heard during solo sessions. You could barely keep your heavy eyelids ajar, Connie’s face unrecognizable from the constant motion blur.

“Con—baby! Mmh!”

Your hands scatter desperately as you try not to flinch out of his addicting touch. French tips scratch at his scalp, tugging him deeper into your sopping cunt as you chase after your release. Your thick thighs hovered over your naked chest—pedicured toes bent and pointing toward where they see fit.

His knees engraved itself into the fluffiness of the carpet below. The necklace that shined so beautifully under the fluorescents and claimed all attention when in public, swung with every jerk of his head. His golden pendant rocked—advancing just enough to also get a taste of your dripping cunt.

“Thaaat’s it, Pretty girl. Open my shit up.”

You obeyed, thick thighs separating to see Connie becoming one with your pussy. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Siren eyes low and dilated, leaving the golden hue of his iris nonexistent.

His dark goatee was soaked in your fixed flow of arousal, dripping hesitantly like cold honey when he came up for a few seconds of air. Pedicured feet rested on each side of broad shoulders, his rough palms having to push your thighs back more so you’ll spread like a rumor.

“Focus on me, Pretty,” Connie purred, soft golden eyes glancing up at you through his full roll of lashes. Your hips rolled in circles, unsure if you wanted to run away from the pleasure or to soak deeper into it.

“Mmm! I’m goin’ to make a mess, I feel!” You whisper, voice cracking with desperation. You couldn’t look at him—even through your shaded eyesight, his gaze was intimidating.

A deep chuckle broke through your hyperventilating. “A mess, huh? ‘You one of them?”

You nodded shyly, swollen lips tucked behind your teeth.

Without missing a beat Connie pulled his lips from you, a thin string of his spit being connected to his chin. His hazel eyes were fully dilated, his pupal similar to an infinite void.

“Connie? W-what are you—“

Interrupted by a kiss that held you in a trance—your words were swallowed. You lingered on his tongue, your DNA seeping deeply between his tastebuds. “‘M goin’ to have fun with you,” he groaned. That cool metal bar that tore through his flexing tongue tickled the roof of your mouth. He moaned between your lips, your soft hands working the strings of his sweatpants.

“I want to see it, Connie.”

He grinned against your lips before slowly standing to his full height. “I got you.”

And right as he revealed his known secret, your jaw visibly grew slack.

“Big, ain’t it?”

Words are clogged in your throat like five o'clock traffic, all you could do was swallow to prepare yourself for the workout of a lifetime. Grey sweatpants dropped just below his twitching, thick thighs. His dick looked so heavy; the weight of his muscle incapable of holding its own against gravity. His balls alone were huge, capable of rebuilding the human race from scratch. You’ve noticed that they’re more melanated than the rest of his body while his shaft was a couple shades lighter and his tip tinted a light pink, giving the illusion of neapolitan ice cream.

“Wh— how is this even possible? It’s like the size of my head, Connie.”

A deep chuckle and a nonchalant shrug later, “‘M not even that hard yet. This is like…. fifty percent.”

Thick cord-like veins fenced his shaft, throbbing in sync with his sluggish heartbeat.

“So you just…walk around with this just swingin’?”

You were hesitant to touch him—well his weapon that stared a hole through you. It looked like it had a mind of its own; almost like it thought its own thoughts and moved at its own accord aside from its owner. You almost jumped out of your skin when Connie took a step forward.

“I mean, yeah. ‘Can’t leave it home, now can I?” His voice was now deeper. Slower. Hungrier. Now you were just playing on his time with your timid ways and he was growing impatient.

You were certain that his dick smelt the fear venting from your pores—growing centimeters each second to evolve into its final form. Still, the pure heaviness kept his tinted tip pointed towards hell. Ironic.

“I’m guessin’ this is how you know ‘bout me?”

You nodded, swallowing pending drool forming at your lips. “Yea. ‘S so much bigger in person.”

He hissed when your hands wrapped around his throbbing shaft. Its pure thickness prevented your fingertips from touching. “W-Which video did you see?”

“‘Was the video of the girl on all fours. Her hands were tied up with her panties I believe. I want that.”

A sinister grin flashed above you. “I got you.”

Biting pillows was never in your rotation of things to do at a strangers' dorm, especially ones that belong to a frat boy. Their unhygienic ways made your skin crawl. But after being informed that his roommate was home and in the next room, muffling your moans with the closest thing to you, felt like the smartest thing to do.

At the time that is. Connie had the brightest idea to dilate your moans with music. Failed miserably. If anything, it broadcasted you.

You somehow found yourself going vocal for vocal with Brent Faiyaz; he’d hit a high note, his beautiful voice straining the poor speakers on Connie’s phone, and you shot one right back seconds later from the result of Connie’s ruthless, calculated strokes.

“I’m workin’ your shit, baby. You feel me?”

The outdated pillow, that definitely saw better nights, was snatched from under you in a quickness, leaving you bare chested on his sheetless mattress. You weren’t even in the right headspace to cringe at the current situation. In any other equation, you would’ve wasted no time packing your belongings and driving back to your dorm in pure silence—high and dry with regret radiating from your skin, but it was almost like Connie held you in a trance. Working his body as if he had a point to prove. Nothing surrounding you seemed to matter. Not even his roommate.

“I feeeel you, Con!”

His pink tinted dick was already lathered in your cream, a wet, sticky echo of your bodies bouncing wall to wall in his cluttered room. His balls were heavy and swung with a purpose and precision, knocking against your puffed clit with each stroke. You tried so hard to swallow your moans—keeping them hidden behind the jumping springs of the mattress. You were successful until Connie’s fingers rolled tiny circles on your clit. You jumped, doe eyes slightly crossing at the sensation.

“Oh-oooh! I don’t want to be too lou-loud, Con. I’m gonna—” your begging knocked against deaf ears. His hips snapped harder and faster against yours, scooting you toward the headboard inch by inch. Since his dick was so heavy, his curve guaranteed pleasure with every plap!

“Let that shit out. Let me know I'm doin’ good, Baby.”

“O-oh my gosh,” you squeaked between slurring words, thick thighs buckling beneath your rocking weight. The loud applause from your ass clapping against his pelvis had you tucking your face in your elbow. Sweat rained down his flexing abs; the glimmer of his bellybutton piercing adding that extra shine.

You were certain his roommate heard everything that happened on the other side of the paper thin wall. Embarrassment claws at your bones before quickly being replaced with pleasure.

Jean was deep in slumber, warm webs of drool slowly seeping from the corner of his open lips and pooling onto his pillow. His snores were so ear piercingly loud that it'll make your eardrums bleed from rooms away. He slept flat on his stomach, left leg hiked up while both beefy arms hugged the plush, drool-soaked pillow providing extra comfort to his head.

It starts off quiet. Too quiet. Hushed high pitched giggles and occasional low smacking from the kisses bounced off the walls of the peeling paint that decorated Connie’s room. Brent Faiyaz played quietly on the speaker on the night stand. It was low enough to keep Jean at bay, so it wasn't an issue.

It became an issue when the rhythmic knocking of Connie’s headboard made its presence known. And poor Jean, still in a dream state, mistaken the knocks for someone banging at the front door.

"The door, Con," He incoherently slurred, voice deep and groggy. Tiredness lingered in his voice along with slight irritation. Who would the fuck would want something at this hour? Jean still had his eyes wide shut, drowsing in and out of consciousness. His voice was no louder than a mumble, but with the walls so thin, he's sure his roommate heard him.

Then he heard it, the unmistakable long feminine moan of his roommate's name.

"Y’so deep, Con!”

“‘Feel you through the rubber, Pretty. Soakin’ my shit, huh?”

“Mhmm!”

Once he heard that, he heard everything else; the slow and sensual music, the deep grunts and dirty talk, the high pitched whining, and how could he forget the headboard beatboxing against his wall. It was like pieces of a puzzle slowly coming together in his dazed mind.

Now, hours later, Jean laid motionless on his back, his left eye twitching in a type of anger that could only be expressed through violence. This was the third person Connie had over on a two day radius and the number is increasing by the day. He’s convinced that Connie purposely removed the pillow from his headboard to toy with his emotions.

It was working.

“‘M gonna’—gonna’ cum again, Connie!”

“Mhm. You don’t have to tell me, I know.”

Today was the day you drop off your three year-old son, Amari, at Stack's Place for the weekend. It was 3 pm on a Friday afternoon, and as you packed his bags, the reality of the destination left a sour taste in your mouth. You now and then still caught yourself wishing it was your house too- just like how it use to be.

You and Stack were engaged, happily. Once.

You often found yourself thinking of the life you once shared with Stack, When you were engaged and living together with your newborn Amari. Stack's work began to take up more room than his presence which was needed. He was physically there, at home, coming home every night, busy finishing his projects and his availability, emotionally or rather emotional intimacy started drifting.

You and Stack's engagement didn't work out and that was ok, not really ok at first but you two managed, there was peace in the aftermath of your breakup. No heated arguments or lingering bitterness, you don't think you could ever truly hate him, instead there was a mutual understanding and respect that was a healthy way to raise your son. Your pride and joy, your three year old son Amari. You love him to bits and pieces. You love Amari with everything in your being, and as a mother to see him grow was such a beautiful thing.

Co- parenting was definitely an adjustment but it was going well. The drop-offs, the weekend pick-ups and the flow of communication it didn't feel like you were just going through the motions, but the communication, you guys were a team working together to raise your son. everything moved smoothly between you two .

You often found yourself thinking of the life you once shared with Stack, When you were engaged and living together with your newborn son, Amari. Stack's work began to take up more room than his presence which was needed. He was physically there, at home, coming home every night, busy finishing his projects and his availability, emotionally or rather emotional intimacy started drifting.

He was present, he was a true provider, but he started burying himself in the "grind", in his work and became less present as a partner and sometimes a father. You always told him money wasn't everything but he always gave you and Amari everything you two needed, which was great and you were beyond grateful but what you really wanted was him. That shift turned into a problem that made "forever" feel damn near impossible, leading you both to realize that you were better of apart for the time being, so you can take care of your son and work while Stack solely focused on work. But you never truly stopped loving him, you just focused on your son.

But today was the day you drop Amari off to Stack's house, the air was casual but charged. Jackson sat at the counter finishing a bowl of cereal as a little bit of milk was in the carton, he was becoming a more frequent guest in your home. You were clear with him and more importantly clear with yourself: this wasn't about building a future, this was about needs, sex to be exact. You were careful wrapping it up and on the pill. This was purely friends wit benefits no strings attached.

In the living room, sat on the carpet, was Amari in his own little world of imagination. You knelt beside him, packing his Lightning McQueen backpack, with some essentials, his favorite pajamas, a soft hoodie, and a couple of snacks and baggy of goldfish. Sometimes you act as if Amari won't get what he needs there, but oh, trust he will. Stack would spoil him the moment he walked through the door, but you always wanted to be prepared, and it never hurt.

You zip up his backpack and lay it on the couch. You straighten Amari's shirt, noticing a few stray crumbs on his cheeks and corner of his mouth from breakfast and you take your thumb gently wiping them away. He looked at you, holding his favorite Hess truck in his hand.

"Mama, we going to Daddy's house today?" he asked curiously.

You nod with a warm smile "Yes, baby, you're going to spend the weekend with Dad".

Lifting him into your arms, you carry him to the car, the Lighting McQueen backpack slung over your shoulder. You lift him into his car seat, and making sure you hear that click of the buckle making sure he's all safe and strapped in.

"All strapped in?" you ask checkin the tension of the harness in the car seat

Amari looked up with those big, soulful brown eyes. He nods as he holds his toy truck and flicks the light switch on the toy on "Yes, Mommy"

You gave him a light smile and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead, closing the door. But as you turned to head toward the driver's side, you felt a pair of hands settle on your waist.

It was Jackson. His touch made you blink, pulling you back to him "Want me to come with?" he asked

"No, noo" you said quickly, your head shaking that idea away. You did not want that, that your life here and you co-parenting with Stack those lines, you never wanted those to intersect, you would try to hold it off for as long as you could at least.

"No it's fine I'll be back before you know it". you reassure him

He leaned in and gave you a light kiss on the cheek, Jackson got the hint and stepped back with a quiet sigh as you reached for the driver's door.

"Bye Mari" Jackson say tapping the window not to scare him.

Through the window, your son gave a weak wave and didn't look at him any longer as he looked at the truck in his hand, mind probably already on his father's house and all the fun things to do there.

You buckle up, the arrangement with Jackson was still fresh, a couple months old and you were always transparent. It was a "no strings attached" type of thing, something to fill in the quiet spaces that Stack had left behind. Truth be told even as bad as it sounds you knew Jackson wasn't Stack, he wasn't the man you had planned a life with, and he wasn't the father of your son.

You were very wary bringing him into your home. You hadn't been with anyone since the engagement ended and that was about a year and a half ago. You never wanted to confuse Amari, you were closed of with men for a while terrified of opening that door of men into his life Jackson was meant to be the separate of your life, only pleasure and needs, but you started to think maybe for Jackson the lines are blurring as he spent more time at the house.

You prayed that they didn't, you always told him what it was and what it wasn't.

He was a distraction and that was the truth.

Before you shift into gear, you turn back to Amari making sure he's strapped in, you reach over and check the tension of the straps, your eyes sweep to the right of him making sure his backpack his next to him and it is.

You pull out of the driveway, you tend to glance at Amari using the rear view mirror always making sure he's ok. Needless to say he is fine, matter fact he is happy as he is swinging his legs and his little velcro shoes in excitement. You began the familiar drive to the home you once shared with Stack, the place that still held ghosts of the family you three used to be. The early stage of that family life.

"Going to Daddy's house?!" Amari squealed, you can practically feel the excitement radiating off of him. You caught his eye int he rear view mirror and smiled at him, you couldn't help but smile at him, he is truly the cutest thing.

"Yes, baby. I'm dropping you off, and I'll be back to get you Sunday night"

Amari looked out the window, his legs slowly swinging now. "Mommy, why don't you stay with us dis time?? Pweeaseee? we play games together!"

You could hear the plead in his voice, his request pulls at your heart. "I don't know about that, my love. This your special time with your dad. I'll see you in a couple days, mommy doesn't wanna get in the way of you and daddy's time."

"But- want Mama and Daddy together" he insists, that pout forming on his lips. "uh mommy we can play! you be the princess, Daddy can be prince and I'll be the knight to save you!!"

"An a evil dragon!, ruined your castle, so I'll fight with my sword!" He puffs his chest out as far as the car straps would allow.

"I'll be like this mommy" he makes noises with his mouth as swings his arms together acting as if he has a sword.

"Is that so?" you chuckled.

"Mhmm, and Daddy is gonna carry you away from danger to protect you".

You smile lightly feeling a bit bittersweet. You turned on some soft music to fill in the silence, and make a turn at the familiar street, the silhouette of your old home came into view. Your heart sank as you pulled into the circular driveway. This house held so many memories, the smell of Sunday dinners, you both use to make, the laughter, the frantic night your water broke at the bottom of the staircase and screamed for Stack to hurry up, Stack practically flew down the stairs tripping over himself. It was the house you had been a fiancee and a new mom, a place where you tried to build a life with a man you love that was just to busy on the grind, not meeting where you needed.

You sigh shaking your head getting out of your thoughts, and to be honest you haven't been in that house since, only meeting at the door, it opens for you two briefly talk and go your separate ways.

Amari was already dancing in his seat and you took your keys out of the ignition. You stepped out, opening his door and unbuckling him, you grab this Lighting McQueen backpack over your shoulder. As soon as his feet hit the pavement, he made a ill dance. "Papa's house!, Mhmm mhmm mhmm!!"

You couldn't help but smile and you remind him "Have fun, okay? And be a good boy".

Amari stopped mid dance, and looking up at you " I will Mama. I love you"

Your heart warmed instantly, You press a firm kiss on his forehead "I love you more, baby".

You hold your handout and he takes it as you walk to the front door and knocked. It didn't take long for the door to creak open, revealing Stack's mother. Amari's face it up even more. "Mimi!" he shouted, letting go of your hand and making a rush forward and wrapping himself around her legs.

She beamed, as she crouched down and hugging him, one of those warm loving hugs, ones that you feel you can ust sleep in your grandmother's arms. He soon scurried inside to find his dad. You let out a sigh and look a her with a light smile "Hi Ms. Moore. I'm just here for the drop-off is Stack around?"

She stepped forward, pulling you into a warm familiar embrace. "Girl, stop acting all so shy, as if we ain't family."

"But—" you tried to protest feeling the sting of "what if's" in your gut.

"But nothing" she interrupted, her eyes with love and yet warning "you gave me a beautiful grandson. If Stack doesn't realize what he has, which he does, trust me he'll regret it for the rest of his life".

You swallow at her words, and look down a wave of complicated emotions hit you "Well… tell him i said hi, and this bag had some of Mari's favorite pajamas and some snacks he likes.."

Truth be told you haven't seen her in a long time and when that door opened you didn't know how she was gonna react, but she acted as if she had just seen you yesterday and no time has passed.

"I packed a couple things for Amari, some snacks he likes and light clothes, i know he has things here it's- just in case he wants these specific things." you finished, you realize this might've come off as rambling so you try to stop yourself.

Mama T place a hand on your forearm, her touch warm and familiar. "Come on in, sweetheart"

You shook your head with a light smile, stepping back some. "It's okay, really. I just came to drop him off and—"

She didn't say a word, she simply gave you that look-it's like a universal look that all mother gives that means shut up and do what she says, she wasn't asking she was telling. You sighed and stepped in. The house hit scents hit you first, the faint smell of cologne, Stack's cologne, the warmth of home-cooked food.

"Something smells good" you murmured, following the sound of Amari's giggles. You see Amari pulling on the sliding door that he's having trouble with.

In the backyard you could hear the muffled soulful sounds of Frankie Beverly's "Before I Let Go" playing from the speakers, the air was filled with that thick scent of hickory smoke and the steady rhythm of the music. Amari was grunting as he tugged at the sliding glass door.

"What are you tryna do, munchkin?" you asked, leaning over him.

"Daddy is out there! Eghh, wanna say hi!" he pouted bracing his little feet trying to tug again at the door handle with all his might.

A smile couldn't help but appear on your face"Okay, baby, step aside" You offered what seem like much needed help, giving the door a firm shove, releasing the warm breeze across your face. Standing there manning the grills were Stack and Smoke, hovering over the flames and laughing . Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Amari didn't even hesitate. He bolted across the grass, shouting, "Daddy! Uncle Smoke!"

"Uh oh, look who it is!" Smoke shouted with a grin making it sound like it was a royal announcement.

Stack set his tongs aside wiping his hands with the rag that laid on his shoulder, his signature sly smile creeping across his face as he scooped up Amari into the air, swinging him in a circle, while Amari giggled like there was no tomorrow.

Stack pressed a kiss to Amari's cheek, his voice dropping into an immediate warm and fatherly tone "How's my boy doing?"

"Daddy, stop! It tickles!" Amari kicked his legs against him, his laughter ringing out loud and infectious.

You couldn't help it, a small giggle escapes you. At the sound, Stack froze. His gaze snapped to yours, setting Amari down, as he is drinking your appearance in from head to toe. You see his jaw clench as he whispered a faint "Damn" to himself. You swallowed, but he moves away from the grill and towards you.

The closer he got, the smaller you felt. the world seemed to shrink to you. He smelled of smoked wood chips, the ones he must've been hovering over and— that familiar cologne—, the scent that use to make your head spin with need. You looked up at him, as you heart frantically hammers against your ribs.

"Hey" he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register that threaten to make your knees buckle. "How you been, Mamas? Amari hasn't been giving you too much trouble has he?"

The nickname hung in the air, feeling intimate, nostalgic, and truth be told, entirely wwaayyy too effective. You cleared your throat, your feet moving, shifting your weight nervously.

You blinked, forcing your eyes away from his and onto Amari. "Uh, good I've been good. Mari's good. And you?"

"I'm good" he replied, his eyes sparkling, his smile flashing just enough to show his grills. The way he was looking at you, sent a chill up your spine it was a look that felt like far more than just "co-parenting". The chemistry was living between you, bringing up memories you'd tried to bury. He seems a bit too close, making you take a tiny step back.

Amari watches you two, seeing how close you two are, he looked up with wide innocent eyes. "Are you gonna kiss Daddy like you kiss Jackson?"

The silence that followed Amari's lips after the mention of a name was deafening. Your heart stopped. You gasped trying to cover it with a cough but it was way too late. It was as if a record player had been scratched and the world stopped spinning.

You felt frozen in time. Stack posture shifted, his playful expression wiped clean from his face. His eyebrows furrowed, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek as he ran it over his teeth—a tell tale sign or pure and simmering irritation. Smoke standing nearby, looked like he'd choked on his drink, his eyes darting between you see his tongue poke at his cheek and run over his teeth, acting as if he has some food stuck in teeth, there was no food only pure irritation.

Smoke nearly choked on his drink, his eyes darting between the three of you.

Smoke's gaze never left as he analyzed the three of you. First his eyes hit you, the stiffness in your stance, the breath you were seamless holding. His eyes quickly went to Stack's he sees his eyes glaring at you, the silence and now shallow breathes Elias was taking and Amari innocent eyes and wide smile.

"C'mon, little trouble" Smoke quickly intervened, sensing the tension and pressure rising to a breaking point. He scooped Amari over his shoulder. "Let's see what Mimi is doin' in the kitchen. She probably making cookies! Let's head inside, food's almost ready!.

The mention of Jackson's name and the smell of food all around you suddenly make you nauseous.

Amari laughed as Smoke carried him off. Leaving you and Stack standing there. The yard was quiet. It was heavy. You turned to leave, the words flowing from you quickly, in a panicked rush. "Ishouldgo,ionlycametodrophimoff—"

"Who's Jackson?" Stacks voice cut through the tension like a blade. "You kissing some man in front of 'Mari?"

You fumbled with your bracelet, unable to meet his eyes under his heated gaze.

"It's nothing, Stack. It's none of your business"

You tried to down play it, you really did, but you knew how he was. You knew he wasn't gonna let it go, no, no, not wasn't— couldn't.

"None of my business?" he stepped closer, his posture stiff and his breathing shallow. You looked at him for a moment and he looked vulnerable for a split second before the anger masked it.

"Stack-" you tried to say.

Before Stack's lips could fire something quick, the sliding door creaked open. Mama T stood there, her expression soft but knowing. "Honey, would you like to stay for some dinner? I made some of that good cornbread you like?"

No,no, no ,no ,no ffuucckkkk no, you thought, but before you could politely decline. Amari's voice coming from the living room as you hear his little feet padded over closer to you. Until his body hits your legs and his little arms wrap around you . "Please, Mama! Stay!

You see him as he looks up at you with his puppy-dog eyes and his plump, pouting lips, pouting as he jumps, how could you say no to that? You watch Amari's hopeful expression, even after the exchange between you and Stack, the word "no" wasn't finding it's way on your lips.

You sighed "Okay…I'll stay for a little bit"

Inside, the air was tight but clam. You decided to busy yourself and help Mama T set the table, handing her glasses while Smoke brought in trays of food. The spread was a feast that included ribs, brisket, mac and cheese, greens, salad and honey cornbread. You sat across from Stack while Amari perched in his seat next to you.

Mama T then led grace and the clinking of silverware is what you hear. You lean over taking Amari's plate fixing his plate for him, making sure he has veggies on his plate. Across the table, the heat of Stack's eyes hasn't left. They were locked onto yours, his eyebrows looked furrowed as if he had heavy questions that he hadn't asked or hadn't finished asking.

Only for a while the house noise faded and in the air lingered a name that you never wanted in this house, or anywhere around Stack's ears. Jackson's name now sat in the air like an uninvited guest at the table.

"So.. Jackson hm? Amari you like him?" Stack asks as he watches his son eat with some barbecue sauce splayed on his mouth.

Amari shifted in his seat looking at you and then Stack, shrugging his shoulders.

"Stack enough" you say looking up at him, you do not want Amari involved even if he did unkowningly, open the can of worms.

Stack barely touched his food. He just sat there, his framed hunched over a bit and his eyes burning into you, while you cut a piece of meat for Amari.

"So.." his voice rumbled lowly, vibrating around the table. "Jackson, that's his name? Mari seems real comfortable with him."

Your grip tightens on the fork. You didn't even look up at him "Stack, please. just eat your food."

"I ain't that hungry no more", he replied now leaning forward. " I'm tryna figure out who this man is you kissing in front of Amari" the cocky smirk was no longer smeared on his face but something deeper, something raw underneath. His voice cracked just a bit. "I'm just trying figure out when I became second to my son to some man I ain't never heard of. You really got him in your house like that? Around Amari?"

You see it in his eyes the vulnerability it caught you off for a bit. It wasn't only anger, he looks like he's missed out on a chapter in his own life and now someone is in your house. You looked at him, you hurt for him. "Stack, I truly don't think this is the time, please just let it go"

"Let it go? I can't just let this—"

"Elias, enough" Mama T said, her voice was still soft but her voice carried like a gavel with finality to it. She didn't look at anything from her plate as she put butter on her cornbread. "The boy is right there, we are having dinner and he don't need to hearing any of this".

Stack's jaw ticked, his tongue poking at his cheek again and he remained silent.

Smoke just watched as he was chewing on the smoked rib.

As dinner continued Amari began to yawn and his head began bobbing a bit, he was fighting his sleep, his eye looking droopy.

As dinner continued it was all cordial, Smoke and Mama T sending looks to each other but not saying anything. Stack barely ate the food that was on his plate, his gaze drifted from his plate to you, and then to Amari, his jaw tight the entire time.

Finally dinner was over and you immediately got up grabbing your own plate and Amari's, Mama T joins and the familiar rhythm of scrapping food and rinsing dishes, took your mind off of things.

Meanwhile in the living room, there Stack and Amari sat on the couch as he rushed to give his dad the remote. Amari's feet padded to the arm chair grabbing a fuzzy blanket from the couch, insisting on watching a movie with him.

"Daddy, sit! Watch cars please!" Amari commanded.

Stack didn't argue. He sat down next to his son, arms relaxing on the back of the couch. He could tell Amari wasn't gonna be up for long, the way his little body relaxed into his arms and it seems like his eyes got heavy once the movie started playing, looks like all the excitement throughout the day caught up with Amari's body.

In the kitchen, you watched them both through the doorway as Amari's head laid against Stack's chest.

Stack adjusted him instinctively, his large hand splaying across the boy’s back, holding him with a protective gentleness that made your chest ache. It was a mirror image of three years ago—Stack rocking a colicky infant in the middle of the night in this very house.

You turned away, blinking back the nostalgia, and grabbed your purse and keys from the counter. It was Stack’s weekend, and you needed to leave before the memories pulled you under.

You watched as, Stack rose from the couch, moving with careful precision so he did not wake the sleeping boy in his arms, rocking him softly.

Amari whimpered in Stack's hold cuddling into his shoulder. Maybe you have always known but this place would always be a home to you, Jackson maybe at your house, but your heart resided in this home with your two boys.

Just the way Stack was rocking Amari brought you back to how it use to be, when Amari was only a couple months old even a year. Stack would always rock Mari as he would hum and give a lullaby, no matter in the dining room or anywhere, Amari had trouble sleeping when he was a baby but he always eased when he was in Stack's arms. As if Stack was all he needed to be at peace and rest.

Seeing Stack have Amari sleep in his arms again just brought that back.

You hug Mama T as she makes way with a to-go plate of her own. She then kisses Stack's forehead and Amari's, Smoke putting a hand on Stack's shoulder and just a nod for them was a whole conversation.

"Alright, I'm gonna head out. Good seein you, Sis" he said pulling you into a brief warm hug.

He made his way to the couch dapping Stack up "Talk to her, and be easy".

As Mama T and Smoke both take their leave, it's almost like your cue to head out as well.

As you too were going to head for the door, Stack rose from the couch, moving carefully so he did not wake Amari who was now fully asleep in his arms.

"Wait," he whispered, his voice thick. "Don't go yet. We need to talk."

"Stack, it’s late, truly. You have him for the weekend, I should get home," you murmured, jiggling your keys nervously.

"Please." The word was quiet, stripped of his usual tone. You heard the raw vulnerability in his tone—the sound of a man who was hurting. "Just five minutes. Please."

You hesitated, your purse strap dug into your shoulder, but you nodded slowly.

The front door clicked shut, leaving just the three of you in the home, how it used to be. The house fell into a heavy silence.

Stack looked down at Amari, then back to you. "I'm gonna put him to bed. I'm beggin' you don't leave. Please".

You wait in the hallway, you fiddle with the keys in your hand, watching him carry your son up the stairs. This house used to be yours. He used to be yours. This house is the one you decorated, the nursery that Stack insisted on painting and getting Smoke and Sammie to help. Everything was the same here, and that's what stung.

Seeing the house, the home you two built together, felt like the ghost of the life you used to have felt more real than the one you were living now.

You stare at the art that hung on the wall. You remember the day you picked it out, it reminded you of the flowers he got on your first date, the lilies he gifted you, you remember you wanted to walk down the aisle with those exact flowers in hand.

Stack heads upstairs, to Amari's bedroom placing him in bed laying a loving kiss on his head and tucking him, before turning off the lights and closing the door.

A few moments later, you heard the soft click of the bedroom door upstairs. Stack had left the bedroom. His heavy and measured footsteps descending from the staircase, each creak of the floor felt like a countdown.

Felt like a bomb just waiting to go off.

You see him as his eyebrows are furrowed his back straightened body almost stoic. He stood there for a beat his shoulders dropped, looking less guarded then he did when he was glaring at you from across the dinner table, that expression on his face looked more like the man you used to wake up to every morning.

You feel a lump in your throat, and then he looked at you, he really looked at you and you saw exhaustion on his face and it mirrored the pain in your chest.

Truthfully, you weren't sure how this was going to go. What were you going to say? or do? How could you make this right, and how would he take this?

He took his time, taking slow steps into the hallway. He didn't rush toward you, he kept a respectful distance— a painful distance.

"He's out cold," His voice barely above a whisper, you can hear the raspy emotion in it. "Was always a heavy sleeper, just like his mama."

He looked past you this time, towards the living room, then back at you, his gaze settling on your face with this time a searching intensity. He didn't start with an apology for the scene at the table and he didn't start with a demand, yet.

Instead his eyes were just on yours, his eyes looking at the woman he used to know— the woman who wanted those lilies for a wedding that should've happened, but never did.

"It's been a while since i saw you standin' in this hall, and not in a rush to leave" he said his words almost forced.

You don't know what to say.

He took another step, this time his presence filling the space, the heat of his body radiating towards you. He gestured towards the living room, toward the space where the two of you used to talk until the sun came up,

"I know you don't wanna be here, and i know i might be over steppin'," he continued, his voice dropping into that low, register that made you skin prickle. "But i gotta know, for my own sake… when did we get to the place when I'm the last person you'd tell what's going with you, when have i been the last person to know anything goin' on with you?"

"When did i become the person that you truly hidin' from?" he said.

You gripped your keys so hard that the metal began to bite into the palm of your hand.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Stack I-I didn't want you to find out like this. I just…I don't know"

Stack watched you and took a step closer, the shadow of the man who used to be your world was large in the dim living room. That anger that splayed his face at the dinner table has shifted..into something heavier, something that look like grief and maybe even sorrow.

"I know why you broke it off, the engagement," he said his voice cracking with vulnerability he usually kept locked behind his grills and his pride.

"I know I was gone too much, I was chasin' the bag, chasin' the life I thought you and 'Mari deserved, the one i thought you truly needed. I know and now i know I learned the hard way that the work isn't everything. Work doesn't hug me when I walk through that door. Work doesn't watch movies with me on the couch or fall asleep in my arms."

He vaguely gestured with the nod of his head toward the stairs where your son was sleeping.

"That's my family up there. That's my heart. And i come home to this big house and it's different, it's just…quiet. Too quiet."

His chest was heaving as he looked at you, his eyes were searching yours for the woman who wanted to carry the lilies you liked so much down the aisle. His jaw couldn't help but clench at the thought of Jackson settling in his mind and the hurt at the mention of another man sharpened back into a shape of jealousy.

You couldn't help but feel guilt.

"So who is he?" His voice rose, the irritation slipping back in again, the same kind that was shown at the dinner table moments ago. "Who is the man, is this man spending time with you and my son? Do you love him, or is he some guy who is doing something I couldn't?"

"Stack" you begin.

He was now all up in your personal space, the scent of that familiar cologne and smoked wood chips now clouding your judgment. "Does he care for you? Does he hold you like you deserve?

"Cause I know how you need to be held. And what about my son? What is 'Mari calling him daddy?? Does he treat 'Mari right? Or is this nigga just playin' house with my life?".

You feet shifted the your weight, he looked down at your hands, seeing you fidget with your bracelet and his voice dropping into a pained whisper. "Tell me the truth. Do you love him more than what we had?"

Your eyes couldn't help but water up and you put your bag down on the table. the sudden sting of tears blurring the hallway lights. You let out a jagged breath.

"Just listen, You're not listening, Elias!" you broke out. your voice echoing, trying not to be loud enough to wake up Amari. "I told you! I told you a hundred time back then to take a break, to stop running yourself into the ground. I told you money wasn't everything, that we didn't need the i house or the fancy life if it meant you were never here. But you never truly listened! You were always working, always gone, when all I wanted was for you to be home, you were chasing something that didn't have me or Amari's name on it, while i was chasing you to stay home."

Stack took a sharp step toward you, his face becoming darkened with a mix of frustration and desperation. "That ain't what I asked you! I'm not talkin' bout the past right now, I'm talkin' about this! I'm asking you if he's replacing me! I'm asking you if he is who you truly love?"

His eyes were wild searching your face, seeing if a lie would come from your mouth or the truth that would destroy him.

Do you truly love that man? If you kiss him, you must, right? Stack thought.

"I need to know if I lost you to me working, to the lifestyle, or if i lost you to another man" he let out, his voice dropping into a painful sound

You choked on your tears as you heard him ask you these questions.

"Does he know how to hold you when you're scared? Does he look at you the way I do?"

The vulnerability that had been there moments ago had hardened into a desperate, jealous hunger.

"You look at me", he commanded, his voice slightly shaking. "You look me in the eye and you tell me, that he is the one you love? Or are you just tryin' to fill a bed that I ain't layin in no more?"

If someone came in to this house right now you think they would choke on how thick the air was, the tension. It was suffocating.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him. His gaze was burning, demanding honesty and truth for the both of you.

You bit your cheek and the words tore from you, raw and jagged, you took a step back as your wiped at your eyes, but the tears kept coming, relentless.

"He isn't you, Stack!" you choked out, the confession coming out like a physical blow. "He isn't you. I just.. I needed something to forget that i needed you and still want you. I was trying to fill a void, I was just trying to find a way to make the house feel less quiet, i just needed somebody. I don't know, I needed someone who would show up. But he couldn't truly replace you…. No one can, Elias".

Stack stood there as if the words that left your lips had struck him in his chest as he stared at you. The fire he had in his eyes only calming with a bit of clarity.

"Jackson can't replace Amari's father," you continued, your voice shaking, trembling. "Because I see it every night. When I put 'Mari to bed, and he has a nightmare… and he wakes up crying in the middle of the night," you continue with a shaky breath. "It isn't Jackson he's screaming for. He calls for you. He wants his Daddy".

Stack's jaw dropped slightly, his gaze no longer on you but falling to the floor as he hears the words leaving your lips, they are now settled into his bones. The slick-mouthed man who always had something to say or a defensive response, was now quiet, he was found without the words, speechless.

He took a step toward you, this time not defensive or jealous, just understanding with a bit of defeat. His hand trembled as he caressed your cheek, just that touch was electric, it was so familiar, it reminded you of how he always wanted to look at you, his eyes were filled with regret that felt deep like it just might swallow you both.

"I ain't know" he whispered, his voice breaking "I thought, i was been erased, I thought i was just going to be the man who dropped off checks and takes him for this weekends…i don't wanna be that".

His hand lingered on your cheek as he wipes away a tear falling from your eye.

"I'm sorry" the weight of the conversation, the months of contemplations all the trouble seemed to collapse the moment you stepped into him. You let it g, the hurt, anger, frustration. You let out a hitching sob and melted int his arms.

You felt the broadness of his chest, it firmly against yours. The intoxicating scent surrounding you, filling your sense. Instantly transporting you back to the nights you use to fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart.

But he didn't hesitate, he completely locked his arms around you as if he were trying to pull you back into the void that needed to be filled. His face buried into the crook of your neck, you feel his breath on it prickling your asking, his breathing was wet against your skin.

You could feel the slight shake in his hands.

It was just silence for a while, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, tears running down your face, but as you stood there in his arms. It felt like for the first time you were breathing fresh air for the first time in a long time.

Your tears dampened the fabric of his shirt, causing him to hold you even tighter, his warm palm splayed on your lower back, rocking you slight, a motion he used to sooth Amari, he is now using it on you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your as his hand moves to cradle your face with tenderness. "I'm here" he whispered, his voice thick. "I'm right here, we gonna fix this, I'm gonna fix this,"

These walls the ones you two built together are now wrapping you in it's arms, all the memories comes flooding back, it was less of a burden and more of relief.

He didn't pull away, he leaned close to you having your foreheads resting against each other, all you hear is the shallow breathes you are now both taking.

You felt the heat of his gaze, his focus now entirely on you, his eyes almost hid the terrifying feeling of losing his soul. Losing you

"He doesn't love you like I do" Stack whispered again, his confession having the hair of your back standing up. "He can't, cause your heart is wrapped in mine, you have me completely baby, he doesn't know the half of our love, the love i have for you."

He pressed a lingering yet tender kiss to your tear-stained cheek. You couldn't help but let out a broken sound, causing your eyes to flutter shut. He moved lower this time his lips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, his hot shaky breath against your pulse, causing you to shiver and tighten your hands on him.

His touch was like a claim, a silent plea to have you back, for you to remember what you two shared, for you to remember everything you tried to hurt and forget with another man.

"I'm sorry, baby" he said against your neck. "I'm sorry I let work get in the way of you and 'Mari, I'm sorry it got in the way of you, but I've changed."

His lips trailed back up, hovering just a bit from yours. He took a second, he waited giving you the chance to pull back, but you didn't you moved closer.

"Please Elias" is all you said and that was all he needed to hear.

His lips finally crashed into yours, this kiss was heated it was the collision of your love and longing coming together, you were starving for his lips ever since the last time you had then on yours.

This kiss burned with hope, with a new beginning it was a kiss that said more than you two felt words ever could, it was a sealed promise that the void Stack created could only be closed by the one who created it, Stack himself.

"Please, speak to me?" Stack pleaded as his chest was heaving, as his hand slid down the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

You were grounded here, this was your home, this was where you heart resided between Stack and Amari, in this house.

"I want you, it's always been you, Jackson couldn't even—" you began to say.

"Imma prove to you that no man can replace me, but i think you know that baby, don't you?" he asked, you feel as if his question was rhetorical.

"I love you "ꨄ︎", I love our son, I wanna prove to you I've changed, I wanna show you that I am the man you've wanted me to become, the business is doing so well I won't have to work for a long time, this time I can provide and be here for the both of you". He states looking you in your eye.

Your eyes threaten to swell with tears again as these are the words you've been wanting to hear all along; this is all you wanted.

It was your turn to lean in and kiss him, leading you to be breathless, Stack's arms cling tighter to you, sliding to the meat of your ass to hold onto, causing you let out a moan.

He sits on the couch, pulling you down with him, forcing you to straddle his lap, knees braced on either side of him. He holds your hips, looking up at you as one of his hands makes it's way towards your stomach, leading to cup your breast.

He massages you breast through your clothes. "So you want me, hm?" He asks, but by the way you are grinding on him, he definitely knows the answer.

"You know I do," you whimper as you begin to take your shirt off, and his hands quickly go to unhook your bra, stripping it off of you so he can see your tits. His eyes are solely on you as his lips inch closer to your nipples, and his tongue latches onto you.

He strips his shirt off placing it on the couch.

You whimper, biting your lip "Elias-" you lean closer to him as his lips encircle your breast. Stack shakes his head "Nah, baby, say my name".

"Daddy" you whimper as your nails dig into his neck.

You heard a low moan leave him, as his mouth was working on your right breast while your other nipple was busy being squeezed by his fingers. You shifted slightly, beginning to grind on him.

"God, I've missed you, baby," he moaned, as a string of saliva connected to his lip and to your nipple. He licks his lips. Your back arches, only wanting to lean into him as much as you could, as far as you could.

You take his chin in your hand, truly looking at him, and you smile, kissing him. He leans back as you melt into his touch, your bodies were melting together on the couch. You both have been aching for this.

Your hands are shaking as you pull at the strings of his sweatpants, as he grabbed your wrists shaking his head. "As bad as I can't wait for that, I need my mouth on you first" He stated, his mouth trailed up to your neck finding beautiful places to make marks on.

Before you can try to grind your hips again, Stacks kisses you, completely silencing any of your pleas, as he lifts you up and gently sits you on the couch, breaking your kiss. You quickly pull your shorts down, but Stack grabs your wrist as he sees your fingers looped onto your panties.

His eyes never left yours as he knelt before you, as if he were ready to give you everything. He peppered kisses on your knees, up to your thighs. His eyes weren't just loving or lustful, but they were determined…they—no, he was hungry.

He saw your soaked panties and kisses them, smelling the sweet musky scent of you, smiling to himself.

"Missed this smell, missed how you taste" he said.

You squirmed as your wet panties cling to your sticky mound "Please, do something, daddy!!" you whimpered.

He didn't take your panties off yet, no, he kissed you through your panties, and all you could do was watch as your hand found his head, caressing the back of it.

"Patience, baby" is all he whispered, but you swore he wasn't even talking to you; he was talking to your pussy.

He licked your panties that clung to your heat, your hand instinctively tighten on his shoulder as you shuddered a breath. His tongue was laid wide as he licked stripes all over your pussy.

Hearing your whimpering and seeing you squirm was good enough taunting for him as he then took your panties off for you, having the wet fabric slide down your ankles, holding them in his hand.

Your bare soaking pussy now in front of him, just glistening, so pretty.

"Please, been wanting you to get a taste all day" you pleaded. You knew you just had to rile him up at the exact moment so he would stop going go slow.

Why was he taking so long anyway? Didn't he want you?

He groans as the blood and heat rushes to his cock.

His mouth finds your clit, immediately causing you to hiss and your back to arch. He tasted your heat, your slick oozing into his mouth.

"Shhh.. baby, we ain't tryin wake him up, keep your voice down, okay ?" he spoke lowly, as he kissed your mound. "Can you do that for me, or try?"

You inhale deeply nodding, "I can try, nnghh". He barely gave you time to respond as his tongue lapped at you again.

 His tongue absolutely agonizing, as he lifts his head only a bit "That nigga got a taste of this?" he asked as his finger begins to apply pressure to your clit.

You whimper, trying to cover your mouth. He did say for you to keep your voice down, didn't he ? So why would you answer his question now?

His eyes bore into yours, his warm, comforting mouth now releasing you, causing you to shiver, feeling the cool breeze on your wet, sopping pussy. His energy completely shifted, and his eyes grew dark as he looked at you.

"I know you heard me." he reiterated.

His tongue began to glide against your folds, as he pulled your legs closer towards him, his nose started to hit your clit, panting wasn't what you were doing at this point, you were gasping for air as your hand pushed his head in deeper, your voice cried out as your hand snapped to cover it.

"mmmm-nghhh baby s-slow down" your hips began to jerk.

"Answer my question"

"H-He did" you admit as your eyes closed, causing Stack to pull back from your soaking pussy, and you to look down at him.

"Come here" Stack said pulling your hips down, so you two are now both on the floor and you pull his dick out of his sweatpants, he aligns your sopping pussy with his mouth, your wet mouth with his tip.

"You gonna forget his name tonight, I'll make sure of it" is all he said, as he spread your ass and his nose hitting your pussy. You can't help but moan and grind, staring at his now standing dick, he was hard, hard for you.

You drool on him before leaning down and wrapping your wet warm lips around his dick.

"All this for me?" He asked, and you can't help but nod your head, causing you to bob your head on him eagerly.

"Breathe, baby, breathe," he reminds you as his own mouth finds it was back to your pussy.

He was huge, but you've missed this, you missed having his body with yours, this is the void you've been trying to fill, all you wanted was him. Your hips never stop rolling on his face as you whimper on his dick, his hips snapping, causing you to choke a couple of times and hit the back of your throat.

His hands find their way on your waist, holding you steady and completely devouring you, causing you to gasp and moan at the feeling.

Your mouth releases his dick "fff-ucck, mmhm keep going baby please."

You stroke his dick, and unexpectedly you snap, feeling a release oozing from your pussy. You cum on his face, forcing your hips to jerk as you lift form is face a bit, seeing hims lick his lips you turn around and kiss him, tasting yourself on your own tongue.

Stack groans, "You taste as sweet as I remember. Come on, baby, I need to be inside you."

You whimper and nod, pulling away from him, and licking your lips as his back stays lying on the ground, and you straddle him, but he quickly swaps places with you, rolling you two so he is now on top of you.

As much as he loved seeing you on top, he wanted to give you everything.

His hand reaches for those soaked panties he had, wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself, and you watch him, only the pre cum getting on your panties.

"I need you, baby, gosh I've missed you," he said, hissing, lining his dick up into your tight hole.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck, causing him to grab your throat, and you two sloppily kiss, making out, tongues fighting for dominance. Feeling and tasting yourself on his lips, he moves a bit closer to you.

You feel him, his tip sinking in slowly, as if he was taking his time to indulge in you, savoring how you feel wrapped around him, your soaked, gushy walls, sopping and crying just for him and only for him.

Your arms instantly wrapping around his neck, his hand moved your thighs, spreading you out, trying to dig deeper, you couldn't help but clench.

And all this time you were going on without him? Without your best friend, the man you love? You wonder how you made it this long anyway.

"Baby, you too tight, open up for me" He commanded, as his middle finger began to place itself on your clit and rub in a slow circular motion, making you jolt. He took his opportunity to thrust deeper, knocking the wind out of you.

As one hand was beside your head the other between your legs, messing with your clit.

"You so tight, baby, it's ok Daddy's back, i'm here, i'm right here" He whispered.

You couldn't help but whine, as your hand wraps around his wrist trying to slow down his painful yet pleasurable toying with your clit.

"Nah, baby, this is who you need, I'm right here," He said as he felt your hand wrapping around his wrist, causing him to intertwine his fingers with yours, placing your hand above your head. Now both of your hands are interlocked together.

"Missed you, missed you so much," He groaned as his hips didn't even want to stop. "No, no, it's ok, baby." "It's a lot taking a real man's dick, but you remember how to don't you?. His voice was somewhat taunting

You don't know if he was talking to you or her. But his hips moved if he had everything to prove, as if you were on the line.

"You're so big nggghh" your breath coming out as panting.

"You can take it, I know you can, just like you used to."

"Mmhmmm, you feel so good," you can't help but look at him.

His thrusts only picked up, becoming harder and more determined, with pure precision. You only grow tighter around him, his hand that was intertwined with yours soon released, slithering down your face to palm your throat in his grasp.

"Who you miss? Hmm? Say you missed Daddy's dick," he said as he leaned down his warm breath on your ear, tickling your neck.

His hand firm on your throat, it wasn't brutal, it was only light pressure, squeezing ever so lightly, just the way you liked it. He remembered.

You snap your hips up to meet his "I-hmph,"

He squeezed your throat just a little tighter as he felt your hips meet his.

"I missed your dick, baby."

The only sounds in the living room to be heard, was the slapping of skin, your moaning, ass rubbing against the soft carpet, but more importantly the wet sound coming from you pussy.

"Cmon pretty, i need you to- hah! try to stay quiet i need to hear something" he kissed your lips, his hips slowing down slightly.

"What?" you asked in a bit of confusion.

"You trust me?" He asks rather softly, catching his breath

Your eyebrows furrow as you choke on a moan. "Of course I do"

A smile appeared on his face, more like a mischevious grin as he gave a peck to your forehead.

His hand, which was wrapped around your throat, then covered your mouth, and all you could do was look at him and take it.

The palm of his hand covering your mouth, not harmfully—just silencing you.

"I love you, I need you to know that, and you tap me if I'm too rough, alright?"

All you did was nod, and that's when the thrusts began, oh, he fucked you, he fucked you like he hated you or something, as if he was trying to win a competition.

"Shhh, baby i can't hear her" he breathed.

Your muffled moans were dying by his hand, silencing you.

Schlick.

Your eyes widen, causing your breathing to become heavier.

He moaned at the sound "Thereeee, she is,"

Schlick

Your hands traveled making there way to your clit as you play with yourself only a little bit.

"Oh thaattt's it baby say it one more time for me, who is daddy?" He asked, but again he wasn't ask you to say it, he wanted to hear it. Hear it from her.

You took deep breathes as you felt the cum already pooling down your ass.

"Hmphh- Mmmm" was all could be heard from you.

"That's it C'mon baby talk to me" he commanded and so she did.

He was in a different state, he was commanding your attention and your pleasure, when and where to give it was all up to him.

He felt you, and seeing your eyes roll back and your body begin to shake, your sound muffled, as you gripped onto him like your life depended on it, circling your hips back to his.

"F--Fuckkk I think —I'm gonna cum, can I ?" before he can finish his sentence, you nod, both of your hips meeting one another's in pleasure.

His hips stilled, his abs clenching, as he panted catching his breath and removing his hand from your mouth.

"You okay? He asks carefully, as he pulls out slowly. Catching his breath.

You nod, feeling the plush cushion on your skin felt nice, the house was silent more of catching each other breath than anything. The soft hum of the air condition.

He grabs his sweatpants, putting them back on and heading over to the fridge grabbing water.

He hands you a bottle "Drink"

You feel the nice cool water bottle in your palms as you begin to drink it, just what you needed.

It truly felt surreal to be back in this house, with the man you’d tried so hard to erase from your heart.

Stack was sitting next to you, with his hand resting on your waist, his thumb tracing slow, thoughtful circles against your skin.

"Stay," he whispered, the word carrying more weight than a command. It was a plea. "Don't go back to that house tonight. Just... stay here. With me. With 'Mari."

You look towards the window. "Stack… I didn't even bring any clothes, shit I wasn't even supposed to be here. I only have the clothes I came in with."

Stack has a small smile appear on his face after he takes a sip of water. "You know I still have some of your clothes in the room in a box", he said, a bit sheepishly, as if he didn't just rearrange your organs. "I don't know what it's got in there, but there is definitely some leggings, some sweatpants, and a hoodie."

Stack watched your face, and he could clearly see all the wheels turning in your brain.

"Listen to me, I ain't rushing you, but i'm not gonna act like i don't miss you or love you. That is clear, it's gonna work, cause imma make it work," he said reassuringly "It ain't gonna be the same as it use to be, cause I ain't the same man and imma prove it to you and 'Mari no matter how long it takes."

He looked at you "We ain't gotta tell him everything, we just gon' tell that Mommy stayed over cause we missed each other, we can take it slow, I don't have any problems with that. But I ain't letting work or anybody come between what we got. I want my family back. I want you back.

You looked at his hand interwined with yours "Are you sure this time?"

Stack nodded.

"And you promise?" you ask.

"Promise, we'll be slow, I ain't losing my family again". Stack said reassuring.

mika's notes .ᐟ.ᐟ: ummmm yeah i actually loved the way this turned out, i might revised the smut, but i hope you all enjoy, i think this might be the longest fic to date

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All she knows is that her capacity to be here is dwindling by the second.

“This is frying me.” 

From the corner of her eye, she sees those deep orange braids slide over Solayne's hiked up shoulders as she throws her head down on the desk. Her hands over her eyes cushion her fall.

She doesn't need to outwardly acknowledge the other woman's dramatics, but she definitely resonates with them; Being stuck in this small room—that can stand to be a few degrees warmer—with its shitty fluorescent lighting, rereading the same chapter and still not understanding the concept, has her feeling dumber and dumber. 

It’s probably not even her fault, maybe it’s the arbitrary way of teaching her professor has that makes it so difficult for her to understand his notes. Either way, she's ridiculously close to throwing in the towel. Who needs to stress over words when she could be relaxing with a self-care day or going to parties like her other peers? 

The thought of her parents hearing that is enough to snap her back to reality.

“Ámerei, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

She blows out a breath, tucking a couple loose strands of her sew-in behind her ear. “Me neither.”

Sitting up with the rush of a new idea, Solayne's eyes widen with excitement. “You tryna eat? Matcha and brownies on me!”

It’s a tempting offer. Too tempting. An immediate ‘yes’ comes into her mind before she can even think twice about it … until she does.

Her teeth gnaw at her bottom lip, the last smudges of her lipgloss stuck to the pink skin despite having licked most of it off in the stress of studying. 

She can’t take another “study break.” Messing around with Solayne, she’s already pushed this off more than she should have. And now, her midterm for Qualitative Analysis is just two days away and she’s nearly clueless about the most heavily covered chapter on the test. This could make or break her grade for this class, and a dropped class is not something her parents can afford.

Solayne’s face falls before she can even break the news of this truth to her. 

Worry folds creases in her forehead and drags the corners of her lips downward. “I want to, Sol', but I can’t.” 

A groan. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

“I’m sorry!” A remorseful laugh tumbles out of her. “I can’t fail this midterm. That’s gonna be my ass if my parents see that.”

A second is spared by the other woman to dwell on the misfortune, only for her sadness to vanish within a second, leaving behind a look of indifference.

“Well!” She shrugs. “I know how I’m going to spend the rest of this study sesh.”

And with that, Solayne stretches across the table to collect her books, notes, laptop, and any pen or highlighter left behind—likely even sneaking some of Ámerei’s.

“Enjoy one for me,” Ámerei smiles sadly.

"Of course.” As she stands to shove her laptop into her purse, Solayne looks to her. "But, seriously, don't stress yourself out too much. You've been studying for this test for like a week straight now, and that class is notoriously hard. I'm sure your professor's gonna give y'all a curve."

Leaning back in her chair, butt aching from how long she's been sitting, Ámerei exhales softly. "I hope so. I could honestly really use it, because the way I've been failing these quizzes is ridiculous."

Solayne purses her lips with the shake of her head, zipping up her tote bag. "You'll be fine, you always are."

"I don't think so, Sol'." Her lips twist into a frown. "I've really been stressing—"

"And that's your problem right there," she announces as she throws the hefty bag over a shoulder. "You're stressing when you don't need to. If you've already done all that you can, there's nothing left for you to do but trust yourself."

There’s not much Ámerei can say to that. All she can do is bring her laptop close to continue studying.

Solayne scoffs. “You need to relax. You don’t gotta stop studying now, but at the very least, let tomorrow be your day off. You can’t cram the day before the test.”

“No … but I can review.”

“Review my ass,” she rolls her eyes. “What you need to do is have a nice, good smoke sesh. Use that to calm your ass down.”

Ámerei kisses her teeth, the sound slipping out before she can stop it. “Or I can use that valuable time to study some more, so I can boost my chances of passing this midterm.”

Dismissively, Solayne waves a hand, turning for the study room’s door. “Blazè-blah. Good luck with that,” she shrugs. “And, by the way, access to this room expires at four, so make sure you’re out of here before one of those fucking monitors catch you. They are not about to fine me for this.”

Chin resting in her palm, Ámerei doesn’t spare her a glance. Instead, she squints her strained eyes at the small text on her screen. “Stay safe.”

“You too, text you later!”

A second later comes the abrupt shut of the study room’s heavy door. Alone in peace and quiet, she lets out a sigh.

‘Time to take this chapter from the top.’

ᝰ

TRUE TO SOLAYNE’S IMPRESSION OF HER, Ámerei is cramming the day before the test. Or at least, she’s trying to.

A set alarm had her up by seven, and after rushing to get ready, she raced her way to the campus library to snag a room before they were booked out.

Now, it’s almost half-past 10, and she hasn’t been able to retain a single word of information splayed across her screen.

She pulls her scrunchie free from her hair to retie her ponytail for about the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. Her eyes steal yet another glance at the time. She’s been here for almost two hours, and it’s starting to scare her how hard it is for her to focus.

Honestly, she’s starting to get the idea that Solayne was onto something. But, she can’t prove her right just yet.

So she thinks.

As she stares at the laptop, the words begin to swirl and the sentences stop making sense. Her eyes jump from line to line, unable to keep their spot. And the diagrams? They’re complete nonsense.

“Fuck me,” she mumbles, dropping her head into her hands.

For a moment, she stays frozen in that position, her mind searching itself for a solution to this madness. Her notes are useless, all the tutors for this class are booked up, and clearly reviewing this chapter isn’t doing anything. 

She’s ready to admit it.

Picking her head up and out of her hands, Ámerei reaches for her phone with bleary vision. It only gets to ring once. 

“Well if it isn’t my gorgeous friend! What can I do for you, my love?”

Her eyes flutter shut, holding back a sigh. “You were right—”

“Oouu!”

She squeezes her eyes tight, the shrill sound of Solayne’s voice piercing her ears.

“If those aren’t my favorite words to hear—so what does this mean?”

Peeling her eyes open, Ámerei peers down as she toys with the small, pink Tiffany pendant resting on her chest. “It means … I think I wanna take the edge off.”

Boisterous cackles fill her ears, the corners of her mouth rising. 

“You so fucking dramatic,” Solayne muses, her laughter dying down into an easy chuckle. “But, I got just the thing for you.”

She shifts in her seat, eager to hear her suggestion. 

“Now, unfortunately, I am busy today.”

The easy smile that graced her lips is wiped off in an instant as her spine straightens. “What?” She glares at her phone in betrayal.

“I know, I’m sorry! I owed Malaysia a favor, and she chose to cash it in today: I gotta drive her to and back from the mall.”

A soft groan leaves her as she throws her head back. 

“Don’t worry, though. A nice smoke by yourself every once in a while is the best thing you can do for yourself, swear. Just spark up, play some music or watch a show, eat some good food—you’re lit!”

Thinking about it for longer than a second, Ámerei finds herself taking to the idea. Smoking will definitely take her mind off of the stress of this midterm. And with that weight off of her shoulders, she can probably catch up on some of her hobbies. Like, playing in her makeup. It’s been too long since she last got cute or even played The Sims.

“M’kay.”

A squeal has her flinching. “Perfect! You’re gonna have so much fun. I know a guy that sells on campus. Good shit, too. He’s cool with Eren.”

“Who’s Eren?”

“You don’t remember? That one guy on the swim team Aneesa used to fuck with?”

Her face screws up in confusion, threaded brows pulling together. “No?”

“Uh—anyway—he’s friends with Eren, I bought from him a couple of times. Y’know, supporting a Black-owned business ‘n’ all that. But … y’know, I am loyal to my plug.”

Staring ahead at nothing in particular, Ámerei raises a brow as one corner of her lips quirk up. “Connie?”

“Well … yes!”

She laughs at her friend.

“And speaking of, I might link him tonight—y’know … for weed.”

“Weed, yeah, right,” she giggles.

“Mhm, anyway, I’ll send you his Insta when I find it. It’s the only way to cop from him.”

“Thanks, Sol’.”

“No problem,” she sings. “Let me know how the high goes. Kisses!”

“Bye.”

With a clear decision made, Ámerei wastes no time in packing her belongings and freeing up this room for the next suffering soul.

When she returns to her dorm, empty of Solayne’s presence, she picks out a simple outfit: black capri leggings and a cropped white tank top. 

As she pulls the skimpy top over her head, her phone pings with a notification from Instagram. Shirt on, she smooths the soft wrinkles out of it before grabbing up the device from her bed.

It was DM from Solayne—a shared profile. Before she can even respond, her phone buzzes with a new message:

His name is Onyankopon btw

Ámerei ‘hearts’ the message before clicking onto his page. There isn’t a face present anywhere on it, and no highlights to skim through. No tagged posts or even a name in the bio. There’s only one post up: a three photo carousel. 

The first photo is of his hand, the dark skin marked heavily with ink. One finger is adorned in a glistening ring and a tennis bracelet on his wrist. 

‘Well … at least he takes care of himself,’ she thinks, noting his clean nails and trimmed cuticles.

The second photo is an interior shot of a car, the model she isn’t sure of. All she recognizes is the sleek emblem that glints on the steering wheel—Genesis.

‘Expensive.’

The last photo is a perfect “off-guard.” A clear shot of his outfit. It’s crisp definition and high quality tells of the use of a professional camera. He had turned his face away just in time for it not to be caught in the photo. 

His arms were hidden by a Pelle Pelle jacket, but from the peak of his wrist, she can tell he’s covered in ink. At least his arms are.

‘Mysterious … okay, sure.’

The ‘like’ count on the post is off, and the comments are tame—limited, too. But, she can only imagine what the counts for each would be, seeing as he has a little over a thousand followers. She presses her lips together, telling herself that these little details about his account shouldn’t matter.

It’s not like she needs to know much about his morals or his character anyway, however, he does seem like the flashy type. She’s only hitting him up for a service—a product, really. 

Heading to his chat, she shoots him a quick message:

Hey, I was told you sell

Crashing onto her bed, she chews on her lip as she watches the chat. She’s not sure why she decides to wait on a response. Maybe it’s a testament to how much she needs this.

But luck is on her side. As she blinks, a new message appears in their chat:

Yea

She swallows, trying to think of what will be enough to cover her. She doesn’t buy often, and she definitely isn’t a casual smoker. After about a minute, her fingers type quickly.

How much for a gram?

Don’t sell less than a dub

Her head jerks back, stumped. What the hell is she going to do with all of that weed? Sure, it isn’t necessarily a huge amount, but she's definitely not going to make more than one blunt any time soon.

She guesses she’ll just have to leave the rest for Solayne. It’s that girl’s lucky day.

But Ima let it slide for uu

First time client deal

An unexpected scoff burst from her lips. A crinkle becomes evident in her brows as she ‘hearts’ his message.

Ty

This time, he ‘hearts’ her message. 

Whn uu want it ?

Today

Soon if you can, lol

2 ,by the big fountain statue ?

That's good, thank you

Aii

With just a small bit of time before their meetup, Ámerei does the next best thing to distract herself from the fate of her Qualitative Analysis grade: scroll through her TikTok’s 'For You' page.

ᝰ

THE SUN HANGS HIGH IN THE SKY, partly obscured by thick clouds. Crisp yet light winds blow gently, pushing around any stray leaves that have fallen to the ground.

It isn’t too cold, the slight breeze is something that Onyankopon doesn’t mind. He’s more concerned with the punctuality of this customer.

Her name, he doesn’t quite remember. Something with an ‘A.’ When he skimmed through her profile, he remembers thinking that it had a pretty spelling—that’s about as much as he recalls.

His saving grace will be recognizing her once he sees her, he’s always been good at remembering faces. That, and he doesn’t think he could forget hers.

She’s pretty from what he saw. Cute. But, that’s about as extreme as his thoughts went. A girl with a simple look, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Clean and minimal makeup, hair neatly styled and out of her face, and an affinity with the color blush pink.

A well-curated aesthetic to fit that of an influencer. If he has to bet, she probably has a sizable following on TikTok, posting content of her getting all done up for her viewers: “Get Ready With Me to Run Some Errands;” “Outfit of the day;” “Come With Me to Try This New Matcha Drink—”shit like that.

He doesn’t have a strong opinion regarding that. Just a blanket assumption regarding the information he was able to garner from her page. 

It’s funny; when she first messaged him, part of him thought it was someone else talking to him through her account. Simply using her face to lower his guard—possibly a nigga trying to set him up for something petty like another woman.

Then she asked him how much for a gram, and he went scouring through her account. It started making sense. It’s likely that she doesn’t smoke much, she doesn’t look like the type. And he doesn’t remember ever talking to her, so it couldn’t be a set-up … not from another man, at least.

So, he chose to be nice—this once. A first-time deal for a new client, even if this little $10 transaction is a waste of his time. His weed is good, he’s got confidence in his product. And hopefully, in seeing that he’s a business man willing to cater to any type of customer, she’ll admire that enough to become a regular. 

For a split second, he’s adverse to his own idea; A pretty girl like her doesn’t need to be facing blunts like that. Yet, just as quickly, the thought evaporates, because how much she smokes simply isn’t his business. And if she wants to smoke more of his weed, then that’s just more money for him.

His useless hypotheticals are put to stop when he notices movement in the near-distance; A sort of rushed walk of determination, heading in his direction.

For some reason, Onyankopon bites back a scoff. Everything about the way she is dressed confirms the character he’s created of her in his head.

‘Come With Me to Buy A Gram On My Way to Pilates!’

He almost laughs at the thought.

Glancing at the time on his phone, he notes that she’s almost ten minutes late. He’ll let it go just this once; “first-time client deal” and all. She’s just lucky today is one of his slower days.

Black hair, pressed flat and shining under the sun, sways with body behind her. It’s tucked behind her ears, showing off dangling earrings. A cropped, half-zipped sweater hangs boxy on her smaller frame and off of one shoulder, keeping her upper-half somewhat warm in this breeze.

As she gets closer, he notices the finer details of her. Like the subtle dewiness of her skin, the quiet definition of muscle beneath her moisturized skin, and the wispy lashes that perfectly frame her slender eyes.

Her pace slows as she comes to a pause before him, apprehension covering her like a shroud. Onyankopon relaxes his stance, trying to give off an air of gentleness so as to not spook her off. Then, he reminds himself that she’s not some deer in the forest that’ll run off at the faintest sound of a twig snapping.

“H-hi, Onyankopon? Did I say it right?”

Of course, her voice is soft. Real gentle, like … plush mink fabric. 

The blow of wind barely shifts in direction, yet that’s all he needs to smell the clean scent wafting off of her; warm and spicy, with an overall powdery essence. Not an overbearing smell. In fact, its projection is personal. She’d have to let him get close to smell more of it. 

Admittedly, it’s enticing enough to lure him in.

“Yeah,” he half-nods, staring down at her, conscious of making no sudden movements. 

“Okay.” A shy piece of laughter breaks from her, the corners of her eyes crinkling as her mouth opens to let the airy sound free. 

He gets a generous peak of her pink tongue and gums, and her white teeth—a “perfection” in hygiene that seems naturally characteristic of her.

“I was scared I approached the wrong person,” she says, laughter dying off. 

He wonders if she practiced this interaction. If she thought more than twice about what she’d ask him and how she’d ask it. Then, he tells himself to stop being a dickhead.

She’s not doing too bad. Someone like her—if she’s not smoking often—likely doesn’t get her own weed. She probably doesn’t even roll her own blunt, let alone crush the bud. 

No, she can’t risk getting anything under her nails or having her fingertips stink. Unless she uses a crusher, and not just any old crusher. It has to be cute, something pink to match her aesthetic.

“Nah, you good.” 

His gaze dips below her face for a split second, stealing a peak at her hands. As he suspected; a soft, milky pink color is painted over square-shaped nails that barely reach over the tips of her fingers.

She nods, glancing off to the side before clearing her throat. “Um—how much?”

“Ten.”

He sees the minuscule jump in her brows as she tries to conceal her shock. 

‘How much did she think it would cost?’

Nodding, she reaches for the tiny purse he hadn’t even seen tucked beneath her right arm. She barely rifles through it for more than a second.

“You don’t gotta give cash, just Zelle it.”

She freezes, eyes wide as she looks up at him. “Oh,” she mumbles. She fumbles to readjust the purse on her shoulder before getting her phone out.

The large iPhone is adorned in a powder-pink case. Her thumb does a great deal of stretching across the screen as she tries to type one-handed. She eventually gives up, using both hands.

“What’s your, um, number?” She stares down at her screen, thumbs hovering over the glass as they wait to enter his digits.

“You don’t wanna see the weed first?”

That same caught look returns to her face as she picks her head up. “Oh—shit. Sorry—”

A dry, amused snort leaves him as he finally allows himself to smile—albeit, a faint one. “I’m just fucking with you.”

“Oh, alright,” she snorts. The tense energy in her shoulders releases a bit.

“It’s in my car, can’t do this out in the open.”

She nods quickly, like she suddenly remembered the nature of this exchange. He turns to head to his car, silently calling for her to follow along. And she does.

Just a few inches from his side, he watches her from his peripheral vision. Another new thing he notices: the simplistic, earthy green slides on her feet, showing off her toes that match her nail set.

When they reach his car, he isn’t surprised that she’s stopped a few feet from it. He takes no offense to it, either. Instead, he opens his door, sliding into the driver’s seat. He does a quick reach over the console to retrieve a small dime bag from the glove box. 

Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he toys with its seal as he nods over to her. “Take my number.”

Springing into action, she opens her phone back up to enter his number for the transaction. As he recites it, her fingers move quickly. 

“I’m sending a dollar first.” She peers up to look at him, her shiny lips parting as she inhales. “Just to make sure it’s the right … thing.”

“Do what you gotta do.”

He turns his head away to survey the scene—campus is quieter than usual, most students crowding the libraries or indoor lounge spaces to study for midterms.

It’s silent for a minute before his phone pings with a deposit notice. He gives her a confirming nod when she looks at him. Soon, she sends the remaining balance, asking him “ten dollars, right,” as if she didn’t remember the total. He answers her anyway, unsurprised by her trepid thoroughness. 

Before his phone can even sound with the confirmation of the remaining money sent, he outstretches his hand, offering the baggy.

She blinks, going “O-oh,” before gingerly taking it. 

“‘Preciate it,” he nods.

“Thank you.”

She gives him a genial, close-lipped smile before tucking the baggy away in one of her sweater pockets and turning to leave. He doesn’t check to see where she’s going or to even watch her go.

The encounter went just about how he expected it to. 

He can’t tell if she’d be back, though it’s not something he’d take to heart if she doesn’t. Girls like her are usually one-time customers, just from experience.

As he shuts his door, his phone pings with the notice of the rest of his money. He doesn’t check it, sure that she’d sent him those nine dollars, just like she was supposed to.

He turns on the engine, shortly pulling out of the parking space to continue the rest of his day.

WARM VANILLA, SUGARY CHOCOLATE, AND ANY OTHER GOURMAND SCENT she can think of, fills the small off-campus apartment, courtesy of the women present. There isn’t a moment of silence here. 

And it helps, not having to think too hard about how she’s still barely afloat in that class (which shall not be named); head just above water. All Ámerei wants to think about is how lit she can get tonight with her friends.

“And you’re sure y’all won’t get a violation for this?”

Resting across the short length of the olive green couch, Solayne watches the next woman closely, seated on the floor before her.

“Girl, yes,” Aneesa responds. Face buried in her phone, she doesn’t even spare a glance. “You know how many times me and My-My smoked in here?”

“Nah, facts,” Malaysia backs up, showing all thirty-two teeth as she recounts the many times they’ve gotten away with breaking the strict off-campus apartment rules. “We just gotta stick a towel under the front door and open some windows, we’ll be good!” 

Her boisterous, raspy confirmation brings Solayne and Ámerei peace.

“Oh, then, say less,” Solayne sighs out in relief.

“Yeah, and no one’s gonna snitch, even if they do smell it,” Aneesa adds.

Seated at the small kitchen island, Ámerei pulls an open bottle of a cranberry Prosecco wine closer to her as she watches her friends work out the plans for the night. Grabbing her cup, she replenishes on the bubbly drink as conversation continues amongst them.

“Only thing is … I'm out.” She bares her teeth in an expression of awkwardness, sucking in a breath of air. “All I got is papers." 

Aneesa's confession comes out with apprehension. Quickly, Solayne turns to Malaysia for hope.

"Facts," the second choice frowns, reaching to tug on a stray curl at the nape of her neck. "I do got cones, though."

"Fuck!" Solayne groans out. However, she quickly remembers Ámerei, looking to her roommate.

"Mei, you have any left?"

Malaysia and Aneesa look at their quiet friend in mild shock. 

The unsuspecting business major gawks at them with wide eyes, like she'd been caught in headlights. 

"Left? Girl, since when have you ever got any?" Malaysia asks, an incredulous smile on her face.

"I hooked her up with a plug," Solayne answers, popping out her tongue as she flips a good amount of braids over her shoulders.

With pursed lips, Aneesa looks her up and down, holding back a laugh. "And you look proud of it."

"Look at you," Malaysia shakes her head. "Corrupting the poor girl."

Swallowing a sip, Ámerei shakes her head, holding a hand out to catch their attention. "Hold on, she didn't corrupt me. I wanted to smoke—"

"Tell 'em," Solayne defends.

Ignoring the interjection, Ámerei continues smoothly. "And I only bought a gram, anyway. It was supposed to be a once in a blue moon type of thing."

Malaysia raises an eyebrow, watching the other woman with skepticism as she moves to the kitchen for a drink of her own. "You rolled?"

As Ámerei turns her head away to hide the growing smirk on her glossy pink lips, the others burst out into laughter. 

"Right," Aneesa laughs.

"Girl, you know she had me roll that shit for her when we came back from the mall,” Solayne confesses.

"I'm crying," Malaysia says, grabbing herself a cup and stealing the bottle of Prosecco.

"Well, I hope you still got that dealer's number, 'cause he's about to make a cute coin tonight." Pushing herself up from the ground, Aneesa heads for her room.

"But was his shit was good, though?" Cradling her cup, Malaysia reenters the living room space.

Ámerei nods. "Yeah, I liked it. Pretty smooth."

Solayne scoffs. "Girl, of course it was good. She got her shit from Onyankopon."

Just as those words had left her mouth, Aneesa emerged from her room, her wallet in hand. She pauses in her tracks. "Onyankopon?"

All heads turn to her, seeing the way her face screws up.

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Solayne asks, eyeing the woman as she rejoins their circle. 

She offers a weak eye roll. "Nothing, I just hate hearing about anything or anyone related to Eren." Her legs fold under her body as she takes her seat on the floor near the couch, wallet in-lap. "And what about Connie? We can't just get from him? I'm sure he'll give us, like, a discount—y'know, off the strength that it's you."

Both Ámerei and Malaysia glance at each other, cracking twin smiles as they catch the subtle shade.

Solayne only waves her off. "Oh, girl—please! And Connie not even on campus right now. He went home for the weekend." 

Malaysia scoffs, lifting her cup to her mouth. "Yeah, your ass would know," she mumbles into it.

Solayne looks at her with faux confusion. "Something was said?"

Ámerei giggles at the two. "Guys, it's fine. I can text, um, Onyankopon." Licking her lips, a bad habit of hers whenever she gets tipsy, she plucks up her phone to go straight to Instagram.

"How much should I ask for?" she asks as she taps around on the screen, brain lagging for a micro-second between each one.

"A quarter," Solayne offers.

"Bitch—no. Ask for a half, please, Ámerei."

Solayne scowls at Malaysia. "Fucking druggie."

A mini debate over the desired quantity breaks out amongst the women. One side argues that it'd be too much—after all, they're only going to be smoking for the night. The other proposes that they must consider the varying tolerance of the rest.

"Guys, c'mon," Ámerei cuts in. "I don't wanna text him then leave him hanging—"

"Relax, cry baby" Aneesa placates. "Just get the half. We'll split it, and whatever's leftover, whoever wants can get it."

Licking her lips, Ámerei begins to type in hers and Onyankopon's shared chat:

Hey

Can I get a half?

As she waits for his response, she chews at her bottom lip, careful to keep their chat open and her phone on. 

"What did he say?" Malaysia questions, leaning over her shoulder to see.

"He didn't respond yet," she mumbles as she picks up her cup. A shallow wave of dizziness hits her, but that only tells her to drink more.

Aneesa scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. "He must not want this money then."

Solayne smirks at her. "You don't wanna buy from this man so bad."

"Ou, he just texted back!" Malaysia announces. Turning back to look at the phone, she tells Ámerei: "Tell him we want it tonight."

"Calm down, you fein," Solayne says.

Blocking out the noise around her, Ámerei reads his response.

Whn uu want it

Tonight, pls

He 'hearts' her message before shooting back a reply.

Gotchu in 20

That's good, how much is it?

Once she sees the bubbles bounce on his side of their chat, she expects to see a response half-a-second later. So, she's a little bit surprised when it doesn't come.

In fact, her surprise morphs into confusion when the bubble disappears and reappears, repeating this dance for about a minute.

"The fuck? He don't know his own prices?" Malaysia says.

Aneesa rolls her eyes. "And this is who we're supposed to be buying from?"

"Shut up," Solayne groans.

Ámerei is about to swipe out of their chat when his message finally pops in.

Picking her head up from the phone, she earns the girls' attention. "He said it's $120."

"That's not too bad," Malaysia says.

The others agree, Aneesa with less enthusiasm than the others.

"Thirty each, okaaay," Solayne nods, a growing smile on her face.

Garnering the responses, Ámerei types back. 

That's good. Are we meeting at the same spot?

Yh

"Okay, it's set," she announces, much to the others' relief. "I just have to go pick it up by the statue on campus."

Aneesa blinks. "The statue? On campus?"

"Right, girl that's a cute … twenty-minute walk right there," Malaysia adds.

"Not only that—what do you mean you have to go pick it up? I hope you don't think we're letting you go out there by yourself?"

Ámerei glances around at her friends, noting the shift in energy. "I went by myself last time—"

"Mei, that was during the day," Solayne interjects, though she's careful to keep her voice light.

"Facts, you not about to get snatched up for some weed, going out there by yourself," Malaysia says.

Refraining from rolling her eyes—all too used to the protective nature of her friends regarding anyone belonging to their tight-knit group—she relents: "Okay, we'll all go, I don't care." 

She utilizes a tired laugh to disguise her slight irritation, but it doesn't go unnoticed, not by Solayne. However, it's ignored in favor of keeping the mood high. Besides, she doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions just yet.

ᝰ

THE AIR IS PERFECT TONIGHT, far warmer than the night of their last exchange—more humid, too. Her baby tee clings to her skin. With every step, the air brushes against her legs like the smooth pass of a blanket.

Her friends cling to her, their natural conversation floating around them. However, she doesn’t give much of her attention to their words. Instead, the brief memory of her last encounter with Onyankopon keeps her mind busy.

She questions why she was so nervous the first time. It was a simple transaction. Yet, it was all too easy for her to second-guess herself when it came to asking the right questions. She’s sure he could sense her nervousness, too. She likes to think that this time will be different.

As they round the corner on the path leading across the campus yard, Ámerei sees that tall figure leaning against the University’s trademark statue. 

The others spot him, too.

“Ugh,” Aneesa groans softly.

“Oh, hush,” Solayne butts in.

As they near him, Ámerei clutches the money tighter in hand, the folded bills soft in her grasp.

Tall street lamps line the path, casting soft warm spotlights around the manicured lawn. The closer they get, she notes how his body seems to evade most of it by where he stands.

Her feet pick up in stride, thong-slippers slapping the concrete as she's pushed to the front of the group as their new lead. Eventually, space grows between her and the girls. To which they don’t fail to notice, of course.

“Girl, where are you going?” Solayne asks.

A half-hearted motion is thrown in the general direction of the man, some odd-feet away, as Ámerei glances back at her. “He’s right there!”

They finally get within a good enough range of him, and a bolt of courage strikes throughout her.

“Hi,” she waves, coming to a stop before him, an easygoing smile on her lips.

Unlike last time, a durag covers the inky black waves on his head—royal blue. He looks every bit as comfortable as he portrays himself to be: Chrome Hearts hoodie, baggy sweats, and slides on his feet.

She wonders if her request had stolen him from the comfort of his bed.

A quick nod is sent her way as he pushes himself off of the statue. “Wassup.”

Going half-a-step closer, she looks up at him with low eyes. Her nose picks up the faint scent of his cologne, something she’s never smelt before; clean, floral yet woody—even a hint of amber.

It almost makes her mouth water. She squeezes the money tighter. Before she lets her mouth run unfiltered, she chooses instead to lick her lips and swallow her spit.

“You bought your friends?” 

The question sounds like an after-thought as he reaches down to retrieve a book bag by his feet, which she hadn’t noticed.

“Huh?” She glances back at the girls, seeing them converse amongst themselves, the occasional glance shot her way. “Oh, yeah,” she giggles.

As he reaches into his bag, he’s sure to keep his eyes on her.

“They, um, they didn’t want me to come alone … said it was dangerous.”

A half-hearted snort comes out of him. “They not wrong.” He pulls out a decently sized bag full of his product. The smell hits them immediately. “But how I know y’all not here to rob me?”

As the question leaves his mouth, he hands her the bag, a faint one-sided smirk on his lips.

A laugh bursts free from her. “I’m in flip-flops. I can’t run, even if I wanted to … I’m not fast.”

He hums in thought, glancing down at her toes so quick she almost misses it. “Could’a fooled me … would’a thought you did track or something,” he mumbles, analyzing her figure.

At the confession, her eyes almost bulge out of her head. “Track? I wish!” 

If his growing smile is anything to go by, he’s definitely amused.

“I, um, I-I do Pilates.” There’s an attempt to hide her own grin; she chews at her bottom lip.

“Yeah?”

She nods. “I wish I was more consistent, but yeah… I’m sorry, you didn’t ask that.” 

Her laugh is awkward, to say the least, yet she tries to quickly move past that; outstretching a hand, she offers him the money.

“You cool.” He takes the rolled up bills, quickly counting the cash before shoving it in the pocket of his sweats.

She nods, clutching the bag to her chest.

For a moment, they stare back at each other, waiting for the next prompt. He goes first.

“Y’all stay safe.”

She blinks, the corners of her mouth dropping just a fraction as she realizes this interaction is over. 

“You, too,” she nods before leaving first, heading back to her friends. She doesn’t glance back at him.

As she returns to the group, Solayne is the first one she makes eye contact with.

“Finally, I thought that shit would never end,” Aneesa starts.

Malaysia rubs her hands together, shoulders bouncing with glee. “Ouu, I can already smell it. Tonight’s gonna be so good!”

The journey back to the apartment doesn’t feel as long.

ᝰ

THERE’S A REASON WHY he tries to be on campus as little as possible. The slow-walkers and corny people, the dick-riding ass security guards, the useless administration, and overall atmosphere of the school is too much for him at times.

To make a long story short, Onyankopon doesn’t have the patience for this.

His body twists, narrowly avoiding colliding shoulders with another student. With the quiet kiss of his teeth, he shakes his head, thinking, ‘This exactly why I scheduled these classes back to back.’

He readjusts his grip on the cool grey metal of his laptop, clutching it to his chest. 

“Stupid ass nigga,” he mutters with the curl of his upper lip.

Outside’s cool breeze is shut out as he finally enters the second campus building—the location of his next class. He reaches up, readjusting his headphones over his skull-cap. 

The journey to his next class is a short one, thankfully: a quick ride up the escalator to the second floor, a walk down the west hall to room 158, and he’s there. Nothing longer than two minutes … usually.

However, this time is an exception. 

As he steps off of the escalator, eyes scanning the large hall as they typically do, his attention catches on something.

Someone.

In a small area off to the side is a cul-de-sac of benches for student seating. And it seems that he’s just caught Ámerei getting up from the bench, as she hangs her purse over her shoulder.

He’s not sure how to describe the emotion that fills him as he sees her glance back—in the midst of flipping her hair over her shoulder—at a guy just inches from her.

Mild shock? Surprise?

None of those words seem to qualify, because this is definitely something he should’ve expected.

But, he doesn’t remember seeing a post about a man or even a story-post involving one when he last saw her page—about two weeks ago when he was just curious about remembering her actual name.

Her glossed lips move at an excited pace as she turns to speak to the man, the apples of her cheeks rounded and high with a smile. 

His attention flicks over to the man himself, who stares in her face like it would kill him to not pay attention to her for even a second.

Onyankopon’s left brow twitches. 

It’s not unusual for people to not post their significant other. But, it makes sense that she has a nigga, he thinks. 

A pretty girl that keeps up with herself at all times. Her vibe gives off that she’s a woman of—at the very least—some kind of class, and she’s got money. She keeps herself healthy, dresses good, has good hygiene, nails done, hair done—overall, highly attractive.

And his type.

He blinks, swallowing back at the realization. Once more, he looks at the pair, catching them at the tail-end of a hug.

‘Noted.’

With practiced ease, Onyankopon turns the other way to head to class, right down the west hall.

Hey

Can I get a gram pls

THE MESSAGE FALLS DOWN ON HIS SCREEN AS HE SCROLLS THROUGH TIKTOK, currently in the middle of a compilation of basketball highlights—his idea of decompressing after finals. As soon as it was over, he raced back to his apartment, situated off of the campus.

Onyankopon isn’t too concerned about how he performed on the test. He did too well in that class to even think he could possibly fail.

It took him a moment to recognize the username, confused as to who would be asking him for a gram—especially knowing he doesn’t sell such a small amount. His lips press together with faint irritation as he views their chat. 

He hasn’t seen Ámerei around campus since that day … almost two months ago. Nor has he heard from her. Understandable. He doesn’t expect to hear back from or even frequently see the people he deals to often.

Admittedly, after seeing her with that other guy, he decided to keep his eyes to himself. Even if he wasn’t really looking that hard. He’s had enough of the drama that comes with people, especially when it comes to women.

Making money and finishing college, that’s his top priority.

was a new client deal

1 time only

Immediately after sending the message, he swipes back over to TikTok to resume his video. He’s only granted a few seconds of peace when a new message pops up:

Oh right, sorry

An eighth then

Whn uu want it

Rn...

At the sight of the message, Onyankopon squeezes his eyes shut and releases a deep sigh. 

So much for decompressing.

ᝰ

ONYANKOPON FINDS HER at the usual pick up location, looking the most stressed he’s ever seen her. He has to admit, he’d much rather see a smile on that face instead of a pout.

With furrowed brows, she stares off at nothing in particular. All the while, the tip of her thumb is pushed in between her lips, jaw working as she nibbles on her manicure.

He doesn’t announce his presence, only walks up to her. And upon seeing him, the tension in her narrow shoulders eases some.

“Hey,” she breathes out, taking a half-step towards him.

His hand clutches the strap of his book bag a bit tighter. “Wassup.” 

A tiny sigh falls from her lips as she looks off to the side. “Nothing, really … just stress, honestly.”

A curt hum leaves him as he brings his bag around to his front to get out the baggy.

“Y’know, with, like … finals, and everything…”

He nods. “Felt that.”

She peers up at Onyankopon, watching his face closely for any small signs of irritation. He shows none. However, she does notice something she’d never seen before—the small tattoo printed near his left ear.

“It was just so hard this semester, like…” she groans, looking off to the side again. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m not cut for this college stuff.”

She chews at her bottom lip, partly noting his silence.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Ain’t nothing new, though.” Casually, he hands off the weed.

“No, I know, but…” Another sigh. “But this—it’s too much. Especially this round of finals. I honestly felt like … no matter how hard I studied, I still couldn’t understand anything. Like … my professor was so terrible! I just—ugh. I honestly want to get so fucking high I can’t even remember how bad I just bombed this final. I know I failed it.”

Her head drops in her hands, and Onyankopon is at a loss for words. The corners of his lips twitch as he’s actively trying to decide whether he should laugh or at least attempt to console her.

“I mean … you can’t be talking like that … or thinking like that.”

His voice picks her head up out of her hands. 

They stare at each other, each waiting to see who will move the ball first. Onyankopon almost cracks first.

Almost.

“Do … do you smoke?”

Confusion flashes across his face as the topic switch almost throws him off.

“Uh … occasionally?”

She nods, staring up at him with big eyes that seem to be soaking up everything in her line of sight—him.

“I only asked because … y’know, you … do this—” She gestures to the baggy in her grasp. “H-how often do you do it—smoke?”

He shrugs again. “Not much...”

Another nod, and it’s quiet again, but only for a very brief bit of time.

“Sorry—do you—did you have finals?”

He makes a face, brows scrunching up as the corners of his lips quirk up.

“I know you sell to people on campus, so—” She shakes her head. “That was a stupid question. I meant, what class did you have finals for?”

Hands in his pockets now, Onyankopon looks down at her. Eye contact is sparse at this point. Her fingers comb through the ends of her hair.

“Why you asking all these questions?”

That gets her attention; Her eyes bulge out of her head as she gawks up at him, seemingly having forgotten herself.

“Sorry, I was just curious—you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to!”

Under his stare, she shrinks in on herself, even begins to create a bit of space between them.

“I didn’t mean to, like, pry into your business—”

“You smoking alone?”

The question is enough to throw her off. Her brain shoots off about a hundred different thoughts before she’s able to stammer out an answer.

“Yeah … w-why?”

He’s quiet for a while, but it’s obvious that an idea has been set in motion. She can see it in his eyes. 

“Tryna chill with me?”

ᝰ

‘YOU DIDN’T SAY YOU LIVED HERE, my friends live in this building.’

Those words almost tumbled their way out of her mouth. Until she overthought it and predicted his “would-be” response: ‘Why would I tell you where I lived?’ That was enough to keep her quiet.

Oblivious to the metaphorical cloud hanging over Ámerei’s head, Onyankopon leads the way into his apartment. 

His stature—tall with broad shoulders—hides her view of his place for a moment. In that very short period of time, the pleasant scent of his home hits her nose.

The layout is similar to Malaysia and Aneesa’s apartment. The familiarity offers a bit of comfort.

Yet, it’s not enough to push her shoulders down or take the stiffness out of her gait. Following behind him, she is the living definition of meekness. Her palms sweat as they hold on tight to the baggy of weed she has yet to pay for.

“No shoes in the house,” he says, veering off to the side to toe-off his own.

Silently, she nods, removing her sneakers and setting them down near the door.

“You could sit on the couch if you want.” 

She glances over at the short sofa, littered with two small stuffed toys—a mini Mario and Luigi pair—sitting at opposite ends.

"Oh, that's cute." The words slip from her mouth without much of a thought.

"Huh?" He glances back to see her heading for the couch, reaching out for one of the stuffed toys. "Oh, shit, yeah," Onyankopon chuckles.

Stealing a spot, Ámerei easily plops down with the tiny Luigi in her hands. And she doesn't plan on letting him go any time soon. She pinches and twists at his little arms, even rubbing the pads of her thumbs over his smooth felt, as she watches Onyankopon move with absolutely no hurry around his home. 

She keeps trying to predict when he'll join her on the couch. Whenever he gets close enough for her to think so, her heart rate spikes, before she's flooded with both relief and disappointment as he walks away.

"You want something to drink?"

A light hum leaves her as she pretends to think. "What do you have?"

"Orange juice, water ... some orange Fanta."

"Um..." She rubs her lips together in thought, refusing to look up at him. "Mh ... no. It's okay."

"A'ight."

The soft padding of his feet melts away as he leaves the living room. In his time of absence, Ámerei wills herself to relax, even by just a little bit.

As she’s caught in the throes of trying to get her shoulders to—at the very least—not to hike up, Onyankopon reemerges with full hands.

"You could sit back, y'know. You not gon' get in trouble."

It takes half of a second for the joke to get to her. When it finally does, the corners of her eyes wrinkle as a gentle smile pulls at her face. "Oh, okay, sorry," she laughs lightly, pushing herself back onto the couch.

"You good," he mumbles, making his way over. 

On the short coffee table between the couch and TV, he sets down a rolling tray holding the necessary supplies needed for a smoke session. 

Although the couch is short, Onyankopon makes an effort to keep some distance between them, trying his best to give her a comfortable amount of space.

"You could roll?" He asks, bringing the tray into his lap and grabbing his crusher.

She glances down at his hands as he prepares his weed. "No. I just have my friends do it."

A scoff, partnered with the gentle shake of his head. "Knew it." A faint smirk lines his lips.

"Shut up.” 

She tries not to let her laughter linger for too long, however, her overthinking is done in vain as Onyankopon mumbles out yet another line.

“You and them girly-ass nails … can’t mess ‘em up, right?”

She blinks, her brain making an effort to keep up with this newfound trait of playful teasing within the stoic man. “W-well, of course not.”

His eyes stay glued to the paper in his fingers as he packs it with the crushed weed. “Yeah, they too … expensive, right? Just like all the other … shit you got on.”

Her glossy lips are parted, and they remain that way. Her gaze is no longer passive, but searching now. Searching for some kind of a reason for this teasing, and if it is truly playful.

A quiet scoff comes from him, just before he rolls the paper to form the first blunt.

“You pay for all that yourself?”

The rise and fall of her chest is more noticeable in the quiet that settles between them; him waiting on her answer, and her waiting on him to announce that he’s just playing with her.

“Are you trying to ask if I have my own money?”

His lips press together in a simple smile, almost like he’s laughing with himself, just before he lifts the blunt to his mouth to lick.

“That ain’t what I asked.”

It’s quiet as he finally seals the blunt. 

Their eyes meet.

He catches a flash of recognition across her face.

‘There she go,’ he thinks, suppressing a smirk.

“I do…”

Onyankopon grabs the lighter before reaching forward to place the tray down on the table. Sitting back on the couch, he rolls the flame beneath the blunt, turning it over the tiny fire.

She expects him to say something, another response to her answer, maybe? A new topic?

But, nothing comes.

All discussion goes out of the window as Onyankopon lights the packed blunt. He takes the first hit with ease. He only needs about two more pulls before he leaves it hanging between his lips to outstretch a hand her way.

“Hm.”

She looks down, seeing his palm open for something. She glances back up to catch him nodding towards the baggy beneath her arm.

“Oh…” She passes the bag over to him.

Wordlessly, she watches him take out the bud he’d sold her to crush down. It sort of impresses her, how fast he’s able to roll a blunt. And when it’s done, he lights it before carefully handing it over to her.

“Thank you.”

He nods lazily as she takes her first puff. 

“‘Thank you.’”

The soft, high-pitched voice almost makes her choke. She pulls the blunt from her lips, face twisted in a mixture of confused amusement. “Did you just … mock me?”

A small grunt leaves him as he readjusts to sit more comfortably on the couch and face her. He’s got an arm resting atop the back cushion, blunt in hand. He exhales the smoke through his nose.

“You got some good manners.”

There’s a calmness present in his voice that makes goosebumps rise on her skin.

His legs are spread wider. If he were to move by just an inch, their knees would bump together. The proximity alone is enough to make her slightly dizzy.

“‘Can I get a gram, please?’” He takes a pull. “‘Onyankopon—did I say it right?’”

A chuckle brews in his chest as her own embarrassment makes itself known on her face.

“Oh my gosh,” she laughs shyly, hiding the lower half of her face behind a hand. “Stop, I was being polite.”

He scratches at his chin, blunt dangling between his plump lips. 

“Yeah … you a good girl.”

A gentle wrinkle disturbs the smoothness between her brows. The urge to disprove him rears its head within her. She opens her mouth to retort, but he stops her before she can get the chance.

“Don’t gotta deny it,” he shrugs with the simple shake of his head. “It’s cool …”

Weakly, she rolls her eyes. “But why do I have to be that, though? I can’t just be normal?”

“You is. You a normal … good girl.” As he emphasized the word, Onyankopon made sure to keep eye contact. 

Her upper lip twists ever so slightly. It almost makes him laugh. Even her most sour face is polite—hardly offending. Even just chilling on his couch, her poster is straight and her head is held high.

“Nah, matter fact—you more like a princess.”

Ámerei gawks at the word. “A princess?”

His lips twitch into a smirk, clearly having fun with this.

“Stop—” She outstretches a hand towards him. “Stop playing with me.” But her attempt at strict delivery falls flat as a giggle bubbles out of her.

Onyankopon kisses his teeth, taking a hit as he turns his head away. “Acting all proper…” He exhales a thin cloud of smoke. 

“Bet you always follow the rules and shit … handing in your homework on time, studying for tests—”

“Like a regular student,” she defends.

Nevertheless, he continues: “Parents don’t even gotta worry about you going away for college.”

“I’m grown?” She raises a brow, a half-smile on her lips.

“Right, a ‘grown,’ goody-two-shoes … probably can’t even take dick.”

The statement almost feels like a stab to the chest—unexpected. Tingles echo through her skin. Those soft-spoken words shut her up immediately, and any semblance of a smile is wiped off of her face.

“Matter fact…” Onyankopon rasps. He reaches forward to ash his blunt on the tray, moving at a relaxed, unrushed pace. “I know you can’t take dick.”

When he sits back, his eyes bore into her again. “Too good to just fuck on any random ass nigga, right?”

She peers down at her hands as she plays with a ring on one of her fingers. For a moment, she loses herself in thought as she twists the dainty metal around.

“Well … I’m glad it’s so obvious that I don’t have sex.”

The words come out in almost a soft mumble. Yet, they’re loud enough to break him out of his weed-induced spell as he sits up just a little bit straighter, a rift appearing between his brows seconds before they lift up high. 

“What you mean?”

A quiet groan slips from her. “I’m a virgin … duh.”

For his reaction, she watches him closely out of the corner of her eye. And she can’t lie to herself, what she notices gives her a sense of … disappointment?

Onyankopon sits up entirely, turning his body away from her to look forward. His legs no longer spread as wide as before, increasing the amount of space between them.

‘Is he … not interested anymore?’

It throws her brain for a loop how quick he switched up on her. Was she not supposed to say that? It’s not like she was broadcasting the news to him—he started it!

Her chest caves in the longer she sits in this suffocating silence. She doesn’t even know what to say.

The blunt is fizzling out between her fingers, the paper itself growing damp from how much her hand sweats.

“Um—”

“You watching any shows right now?”

Ámerei doesn’t allow herself to remain stunned for longer than a second before she’s giving a nonverbal response; a shake of the head.

“A’ight,” he groans, reaching forward to grab the remote. 

He goes silent as he sifts through his Hulu account, flipping through titles to see what can best fit the vibe for this hangout (and even resuscitate it). 

“I-is there a problem?”

His eyes don’t stray from the screen before them, the TV speaker emitting low clicks as he moves onto the next title. “Nah…”

Her eyes narrow. “Why’d you get quiet when I said I’m a virgin, then?”

He takes a slow inhale, finger freezing on the remote. There’s a handful of seconds before he spares her a brief sideways glance.

“You not watching any shows right now?”

Confusion and irritation twists her face up as she glares at him. “So, you’re just gonna be weird now?”

The sigh that leaves Onyankopon only offends her further. “I’m just tryna find something to watch. We don’t gotta talk about nothing—”

“Bullshit.” She sits up straighter in her spot on the couch, leaning over to get in his face. “I know I’m a virgin, but I’m not stupid. I know you’re interested in me … kind of. At least, I am. Obviously, that’s why I came over here, and it’s probably why you invited me over here, too.”

“Listen—”

“Like, why would I come to a random guy’s apartment just to smoke with him? I know what the fuck people do in situations like these.”

He refrains from showing his mild shock at her change in demeanor. Nevertheless, he faces her as he tries his best attempt at showing remorse. “You seemed cool, maybe I was just tryna chill with you. That’s what you came over here to do?”

Her gaze falters under his own, and her shoulders curl in tighter around her. With a shrug, Ámerei confesses, “I just wanted to … try something new.”

His “guilt” melts into something else: amusement. All there is to show for it is the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Try something new? That’s … funny.”

His words regain her eye contact, and just as easily she shrugs off her humility for anger. “I’m just going to leave.” Ámerei puts out her blunt and pockets it before reaching for what’s left of her uncrushed weed. “Clearly you think … I’m some little fucking girl, and I’m not gonna sit here and be treated like that—”

“Hol’on—”

“No, I’ll just go—”

As she prepares to stand, he reaches out an arm to keep her in her seat.

“Calm down, just—” Yet another sigh is released as he assesses the situation. “You being a virgin isn’t … a issue. I just … I’m not tryna be the guy that you get first—”

“Why? Because I’ll get attached?” She says the words with air quotes. “Please,” she scoffs. Her arms cross over her chest as she falls back against the couch cushions.

Staring at her, Onyankopon licks at his back molars as he weighs his options with this situation. Catching his eyes, Ámerei staunchly raises a brow in question—in challenge, actually.

“A’ight, you wanna fuck?” He nods to himself, shifting in his seat. “Fine, we could do that.” 

It takes a second too long for her brain to get a firm grasp of his words. “Wha—a-are you—really?”

An unflinching stare is the only answer he gives her.

With apprehension, her arms unfold to push herself up higher. “O-okay … um.” She swallows. “A-are you clean?” 

He wants to laugh, but keeps it at bay. “No, I don’t got nothing. You wanna get tested before we do something?”

“No…?” She doesn’t acknowledge his sarcasm, she doesn’t think she can. “If that’s fine with you?”

He shrugs, eyes softening as he looks at her changing demeanor. “I’m cool.”

The gentle sound of his voice and the heat of his stare boils her in her seat. “Where … should we start?”

His eyes travel to the object of his thoughts: her lips. “I could kiss you?”

Her mouth parts with a silent stutter of words she has yet to mumble. “Y-yeah,” she nods.

Turning his head, Onyankopon ducks in to press his lips against hers. It almost makes her dizzy—them finally touching. Not too wet, his lips are perfectly moist as they slide over her own.

Whereas he moves smooth and fluid, her lips remain pursed against his own, frozen with timidity. And then the wet smooches of each kiss are so loud in her ears, it’s all she can hear.

As he opens his mouth further, he lightly laughs against her. “You gotta kiss back.”

“I am.”

He pulls back to stare at her fully. “You not.”

Brows pulling together, she looks off to the side with a frown and a huff. “Well … it’s awkward.”

“Wha—how you expect to fuck if you can’t handle this?”

Her eyes dart back over to him, growing wide. “I can handle a kiss! It’s just quiet as hell, and I don’t only wanna hear us kissing! Then, it’s just awkward only using our … lips, like—ugh. Can’t we just use tongue?”

“A’ight, if that’s what you wanna do,” he scoffs. “Was tryna ease you into it.”

She doesn’t say anything as she rolls her eyes. Instead, she surges forward to smash her lips against his. This time, she moves with an eagerness that screams she’s trying to prove herself. 

And, honestly … she uses just a little too much teeth.

Yet … Onyankopon can’t find it in himself to be annoyed or even the slightest bit peeved. Instead, it’s kind of cute to him how … not great she is at this.

But, of course, he’s still a man; His cradle of her jaw is light, yet guiding as he tilts her head and holds it in its new position, granting him the perfect access to slip his tongue inside. 

The muscle is velvety smooth and wet; addicting. Her fingers clutch awkwardly at the closest parts of his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as she loses herself in the action of sucking on him.

Maybe she knew what she was talking about. Onyankopon revels in feeling her body sag against his, the warmth of her more apparent the longer they continue. Even her kissing is more relaxed, slow and perfect.

His hand sinks to her neck—not squeezing. Just ... holding. He pulls back by just a fraction, peeling his dark brown eyes open to stare down at her through his lashes as he laves at her bottom lip.

The pretty pink skin glistens with their spit, bouncing with the release of pressure as he lifts his tongue. As she opens her eyes, the fresh wispy set of lashes framing them so perfectly, the kiss drunk gaze she's got makes something in his stomach drop.

'Fuck it,' is all he thinks before dragging her light frame on top of him. Their lips are back on each other without another thought. In fact, their brains buzz with excitement. 

Neither of them can stop.

The only coherent thought he formulates, is the realization of her heartbeat. Her pulse beats like a bunny rabbit's beneath his thumb. His fingers twitch as he barely stops himself from squeezing any tighter.

He's moving purely off of instinct, already knowing which actions to take; his lips veer off of hers, traveling down to the side of her face, underneath her ear, and the column of her neck.

Her mouth hangs open, puffing out swathes of air; it feels empty, missing the feel of something in it.

The hand at her neck slides behind her to cup the back of her head. He pushes her body closer into his. Ámerei's hands clutch his shirt tighter when his lips press firm into the heat of her skin and suck, pulling a hoard of blood just beneath the thin skin.

Yet, the pull isn't strong enough, and she catches herself almost whining out in complaint. When he releases her from his mouth with a weak pop, he licks over the clean skin, pleased that he hadn't left a mark.

In his arms, Ámerei shifts ever so slightly, but it's enough for her to feel him beneath his pants, pressing into the seat of her ass.

'Fuck, I'm really gonna do this,' she thinks to herself.

"Your heart beating fast," he whispers in her ear, his voice sounding distant.

She swallows. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

Before she can think of a response, his hands grip her thighs firmly. In the blink of an eye, she's suspended in the air, held up in his arms as her feet dangle at his sides.

She doesn't ask anything as he whisks her away from the living room, the couch shrinking over his shoulder as they head down the short but dark hallway and towards another room.

The bedroom.

It smells just as good as the living room, but a different scent. One softer, cleaner. The only messy thing in here is his bed, as it was left unmade.

She doesn't judge him, though. She can't remember the last time she's made hers either.

Those thoughts are quieted as she's set down on the pillowy bundle of his comforter. As her back sinks into the gentle warmth, she's engulfed in his natural scent: a faint, manly musk with an air of powdery cleanliness. 

She half expects his body to already be on top of hers. Instead, he's standing over her, looking down at her with eyes full of an alertness she hadn't expected.

"What happened?"

"You wanna do this? Like, actually?"

She's nodding, sitting up on her elbows to get a better look at him. "Yes, I want to ... you don't?" The beginnings of her brows itch to pull to each other.

"Nah, I do. I'm just making sure ... don't need nobody crying 'cause I took they virginity—"

"Which is a social construct," she sasses, softly jerking her neck as she does so. "And you’re not taking anything. So stop talking about it, and let's go."

He can't lie, she got that one. All he can offer is a scoff and the shake of his head. "You keep talking like you Billy Badass."

A grin teases at her lips. "Then shut me up."

He pauses for a moment, staring at her as he decides on what he should do to her first. One hand at the hem of his pants, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. "You just let me know when it gets too much."

His hushed tone gets her wetter, she can feel it. All she gives is a nod of her head.

"Take your clothes off for me."

"Okay," she breathes out, pushing herself to sit up on her knees. 

Her capris came off first, leaving her in the pistachio green panties she decided to throw on today. Next is her sweater, which she throws softly to the floor. And then, it's her camisole.

Onyankopon doesn't try to be polite or chivalrous, there's no reason to hide how he feels; his gaze is exactly where he wants it to be.

He reaches out a hand before he can think, warm fingers cradling the side of her ribcage as he runs his thumb over the pert hill of her left boob, lazily playing with the taut, almost maroon nipple.

"Perky ass lil' titties."

Her spine bows, pushing them further into his touch. "Shut up," she mumbles, her lips pulling around her pretty teeth as she can’t keep herself from spilling a smile.

“Mhm,” he hums, moving his hand to hold her jaw and angle her chin up.

His low-lid stare has her feeling stuck in the spotlight. Ámerei can’t tell if she loves all of the attention or if she’s too shy for it.

“Why you still got them fucking panties on?”

Her breath hitches, hearing his soft voice harden around the profanity.

“I-I thought you were gonna take them off,” she says softly.

Kissing his teeth, his hand falls away from her face, leaving the skin cold. “You really think you a fucking princess.”

There was no malice in his tone at all.

Before she can even fake a frown, he gently pushes her back down on the bed. Her mouth hangs open, speechlessly watching as he softly hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear. He stares for a moment, before he even thinks to pull them down.

Between her legs, he takes heed to how the thin fabric sticks to the curves of her pussy, showing what usually goes unseen. Only slightly does he pull them up, just to further pronounce the outline of her folds. And that’s when he sees the small wet spot previously hidden.

“What’s wrong?”

The fear in her voice is poorly hidden. 

“Nothing, you good.”

His smile matches that of his tone: plain and simple.

Without much more delay, Onyankopon takes great care in ridding her of her underwear. The small garment in his hands, he begins folding it with the tips of his fingers, like it’ll rip if he pulls at them too hard.

“Scoot back,” he nods in the direction he wants her to go, just before placing the folded underwear on his dresser.

Ámerei shifts to the middle of the bed, Onyankopon moving into the new space she made for him.

His hands get her by the underside of her legs, pushing them back against her stomach. As he lowers himself between them, she doesn’t lean back, only staying on her elbows to watch with … morbid curiosity.

Once again, he halts, concern befalling his face. “You good with this?” 

She nods, chewing at her bottom lip as worry brings her brows together. “Y-yeah, I’m just … kinda scared? Not of you, but, like … w-what if I, like …. stink?” 

He laughs softly. “You don’t.” 

“I don’t?”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Was you supposed to?”

Her eyes widened. “No—no! I was just—ugh, nevermind, keep going. Sorry.”

For a moment, Onyankopon eyes her, searching for any signs that he should stop. “Do you wanna do this?”

“Yes,” she nods eagerly, never breaking eye contact.

“So lay back, then.” He kisses his teeth, hoping to calm her nerves with a playful tone. “Moving like you supervising me.”

She only rolls her eyes, her back sinking into the sheets.

Face to face with her second set of lips, Onyankopon can’t say that he’s surprised with what he’s seeing, only pleased by the sight of her. A clit, swollen with arousal, heading the curtains of her inner labia which come to peek past her lips.

Right above it, he places a soft smooch on the hill of her mound, feeling the hot and smooth skin under his lips. Then one right beneath it, where her lips part. Just in the crook of her leg and hip, he plants another kiss there. 

The hitch in her breath is complimented by a subtle flex of her inner leg muscles.

“You ticklish?”

Her hands, awkwardly tucked at her sides, twist the sheets beneath them as she stares up at the ceiling. “U-um, not really—”

Pressing his tongue to the opening of her pussy, Onyankopon flattens it against her, barely dipping inside. But, he doesn’t let it linger, as he licks a long, wide stripe all the way to her clit.

Her stomach sucks in and her hips press into the bed, thighs fighting to close around him.

“O-oh—”

Another lick pulls his lips over her clit, slowly rolling his tongue over it. “Hm?”

“Mm—I don’t—“ She shakes her head, eyelids lowering by the second.

He pulls back, creating a soft smooch sound, then another lick. All before he pulls her clit back into the warmth of his mouth to suckle on.

“Mh … mmh … mh, uh … uh—”

His lips tighten around her as he holds in a laugh. He readjusts his grip to better handle her hips as they rock against his face.

“Yes … mh—please,” she pants out. She licks at her drying lips, only for her mouth to drop open again as he continues to suck at her clit.

Her knuckles pale, hands twisting and pulling at the sheets as she bears the feeling of his tongue flicking against her clit—each one pushing her towards a familiar feeling.

At the back of her head, the sound of her own voice—moaning in a way that she’s never heard before—is honestly … embarrassing. 

But, she can’t bring herself to care. Not with how he has her folded up and shaking against his face.  

She can feel his chin moving against her, almost digging into the underside of her thighs, and perfectly so. Right above his head, her ankles cross and her feet arch.

He switches his tempo, tongue swirling circles on it. That pulls a shiver out of her.

“Hmmm, mmh, mh—” 

Using all of the strength she can muster, Ámerei pushes her hips upwards to rut against his face, chasing after a fastly impending climax.

And she’s so eager for it, she doesn’t even notice the shifting of his hips against the bed. How contained he’s trying to be. How hard he tries to not to let it be known that he enjoys getting his face fucked by a pretty girl. 

Her thighs press harder against the sides of his head, drowning him in the sweet scent of the lotion that coats her skin.

“Ooh—”

Her body jumps, tightening as her body flutters, and her own release leaks down her middle. 

As he licks at her, a clammy palm pushes against his forehead. He clutches tighter as she squirms beneath him, broken laughter spilling from her mouth.

“Fuck, stop, stop!” She twists and turns, twisting to slip out of his grasp.

Letting go of a soft chuckle himself, he releases her out of mercy. “You didn’t wanna continue,” he asks, sitting up, a grin on his wet lips.

Through hooded eyes, Ámerei watches him as she tries to regain her composure. She notices a speck of her cum on his chin just before he wipes the bottom half of his face with his shirt.

“That was good for you?” As Onyankopon talks, he comes to stand up.

Immediately, her eyes fall below his waist. Straight to the print in his pants that is impossible to ignore. Wordlessly, she nods, her stare unmoving.

The corners of his mouth raise into a grin as he hooks his thumbs on the waistband of his pants and drags them downwards. It pops out as it's freed from his clothes. 

In her eyes, his dick bobs in slow motion, solid and stiff in the air.

She struggles to get a good breath in as he rejoins her back on the bed, his knees sinking into the mattress on either side of her.

“Look at me.”

Her mouth opens, but no words come out. Her attention is wrangled in by the soft grip he adopts on her chin. He tilts her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Tell me how you felt.”

She blinks herself out of a daze, just barely realizing the soothing rub of his thumb against her chin. “It—I—g-good.”

A soft snort leaves him. “Yeah? It was good?”

She nods, growing bashful again. As she ducks her head, she subtly jerks back, having almost brushed the tip of his dick with her lips. She looks back up at him, noting the almost expectant look on his face.

“You wanna suck it?”

“Mh—I…”

She glances at it again. Sepia blooms over the crown of it. The tip is blunt and wide, a perfect surface just inviting her to curl her tongue around it.

A thought flashes in her mind as she wonders how many women have had him in their mouths. How many women have made him cum, and how fast. How much … better they’d be at it than her.

With a thick swallow, she peers back up at him. “Not—I don’t think I could do it this time.”

He nods, the grin on his face unchanging. “A’ight, that’s okay.”

Bending down, he plants a kiss on her cheek, then, one on her neck. “Lay back, again,” he whispers to her.

“Why,” she questions, leaning back anyway as she watches him lower himself to her side. 

“Put your legs up.”

There’s a buzzing present in her brain, like she’s moving on autopilot. And it feels so good. Hence why, she doesn’t think twice when he whispers a command, performing the action as she speaks to fill the space.

She curls her legs into her chest once again, tucking her manicured hands beneath her knees, just to have something to hold onto. Yet still, there’s ample space for him to slide a hand between her thighs. Right where her lips are pushed together.

“G-go slow, please,” she urges timidly.

He doesn’t mind her words as he runs his fingers through the plush skin of her lips. Slow and soft, teasing her as he gets the tips of them wet. They’re relaxed, petting. 

Her eyelids start to grow heavy, limbs relaxing into the mattress as he rubs messy circles over the bundle of nerves between her legs. The walls of her pussy hug themselves as they flutter from his touch. 

Even as he’s right there—not daring to pull away—her hips chase after his touch. They stutter and roll beneath him.

Her head lolls to the side, eyes barely open as he stares down at her falling apart.

“This good?”

“Mmmhm,” she nods lazily, moaning softly into his arm.

“This how you want it? You gotta tell me.”

Her legs quiver. He feels a trickle further wet his hand.

“Y-yes,” she whispers, the sound barely slipping out past her lips.

“Hm?”

The pads of his fingers rub so perfectly against the small pearl, overwhelming her with their gentle roughness. 

“Yesss, Ony,” she weeps, her face contorting in desperate pleasure as she nods against him. “Yess—”

A gentle gasp slices her plea in half; a finger, long and thick, slides through her lips and pushes in, gliding easily. It almost takes another moan from her.

And as that thick, long finger dives deeper, it presses right up against that spot perfectly inside of her. So deep that the knuckle of his hand presses to her opening with a soft squish.

“Mhm,” he hums, peering between her legs as he pulls that finger out. But, only about halfway before he’s pushing back in to hear her body croon around him. He pulls out again.

It doesn’t surprise him, seeing the thin, slimy film coating his skin—viscous and sticky. It’s built up in some spots more than others.

“Creaming already.”

Before she has the chance to get bashful at the off handed comment, he’s sliding his finger right back in, the tip of it just kissing her g-spot.

The pressure is a dull ache that knocks something deep in her tummy.

Her eyes roll shut, shoulders tensing up as her body tries to handle the steady strength of his finger fucking into her. It curls so perfectly in her, pushing against her walls. And yet…

“M-more,” she whimpers.

“More?”

She nods, the crease in her brows deep as her eyes fall closed. She doesn’t even see the way his lips curve upwards as he kisses his teeth.

“Wasn’t you just begging me to go slow?”

His question doesn’t get a real answer, only an irritated whine.

“Huh?” As he works his finger in and out of her, always aiming to hit that one spot, her body gurgles around them, splishing against him. “That wasn’t you?”

There’s an effort to keep her lips pressed together, even as her eyes roll back at the feeling of someone digging her out in the most pleasant way possible. “Mh—Please.” The word drags from her mouth, weighed by an attitude that reeks of entitlement.

He doesn’t mind it. Without a second thought, he gives her just what she asks for, pushing his ring finger in right alongside the middle one. A moan that perfectly encapsulates utmost satisfaction leaves her lungs as her body welcomes him.

She’s sopping, her walls velvety and soft. They mold around his fingers as he presses into the spot right behind her bladder.

“Ouu … shit,” her voice drags, cracked and heavy. Above his head, her feet arch like they’re in Louboutins. Her hips twitch, thighs shuddering perpetually.

She’s a vision that he has to sit up further to see in its entirety. He licks his lips, trying to get a trace of her taste again as her cream seeps around his hand. 

“You feel that?”

Bunched up together, her eyebrows don’t separate. She can only manage a weak nod. Her body offers no friction, welcoming him in with weeps of milky arousal all over the intruding fingers.

“Fuck,” he groans to himself, shifting on his knees. “Why you creaming like that?”

His answer is a shaky mewl as her thighs tremble around his wrist. Square acrylics with perfect corners bite into the skin of her legs as her grip only hardens.

His mind is on its own bender, this sight enough of a drug to last him the entire evening. Onyankopon doesn’t question the next thought that pops into his head, he only does it.

With too much ease, he slips a third finger in, curious to see how much she can take. 

There is no resistance. 

No struggle.

No hiss of pain or tightening to stop him. 

Just pretty pink walls, bending and stretching to accommodate the weight and size of three big fingers.

“She greedy like that, huh? Been starving… Why you kept her waiting this long, Ámerei?” He bends down close to push his face into her neck, lips right at her ear. “Hm?” Her pussy spurts around him, the sound of wet clicks accenting his words. “Tell me.”

Her whimpers are too perfect. Anyone could hear them, and here she is, making all of this noise about his fingers. How does she expect to take his dick?

“Wanted to wait until someone could do you right, hm? Give you some princess treatment,” he teases.

He runs his lips, slowly, down her neck and up the hill of a breast. At its peak, he laves at a pearled nipple before suckling. Her hips cant against him, like they’ve been brought back to life.

He’s relentless, fucking her good enough so that she doesn’t even notice when he grabs the condom—only slipping his hand out to tear open the aluminum packet. That’s when she finally has a clear enough head to open her eyes.

To look up.

Her eyes go wide.

“W-woah—wait.”

He freezes, the condom having already been rolled half-way down his dick.

Her eyes flit up to his face, almost shocked by the concern splashed across his face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I … I just…” 

She takes another peak at him, noting the way the latex stretches thin around his tip. There’s only one hand around himself, but Ámerei can tell that it’s feasible for him to grip it with two. It curves just slightly to the left. A small web of veins, laying just under the skin, ribs the length of his shaft.

“Look, we don’t gotta do this—”

“I do. I … I do, just … please, go slow.”

“Okay, Ámerei. I heard you,” he stresses. “I’m not doing nothing you not okay with, a’ight?”

She nods, still looking between his legs. Her gaze is torn away when there’s a hand at her chin, pushing her head up. 

“I hear you.”

She nods again, rather stiffly this time, on account of the hand still at her chin. And yet, he gently squeezes her in reprimand.

“Something hurts, say it. Don’t gimme that fake-moaning shit if you don’t like it, ‘cause I’ma be able to tell.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

He scours her face for a moment. 

“Okay.” He releases her face to finish putting the condom on. “Lay back … I ain’t gon’ tell you again,” he mumbles, voice less stern than it had been in the last minute or so.

Swallowing back her fears, Ámerei does as told. He doesn’t give her room to ruminate. Or, he gives her no space to, rather; his face is back in hers.

There are kisses dropped one after the other on her lips, as a knee of hers is lifted and pressed against her stomach. 

“Look at you—” a kiss. “—doing all that worrying … Like you don’t got me this fucking hard.” 

Ámerei holds in a gasp as the weight of his tip drops against her lips with a firm tap. She jumps at the impact. It surprises her, that’s for sure, feeling how solid he is.

He looks in her eyes seeing the lust bloom behind her shrinking apprehension. Taking his hand off of himself, Onyankopon gently grabs her other hand to place it around his dick, so that she can see for herself.

“Feel that?” he breathes out as she makes a clumsy fist around him. Her hand is so soft. It’s almost a shame. “Ain’t even have you suck my shit, but you got me giving you dick.”

His stare is unflinching. Her hand tingles, like it’s in shock at how he feels in her grasp. It almost makes her head hurt, noting how even if she really tried, one hand won’t be enough to fully hold him.

“That’s what you used to … getting everything you want, w-without having to do nothing for it, hm?”

He can make a comment about how easy it’ll be to split her open—he’s definitely thinking it. But, Onyankopon watches his words. Tries to keep it tame for her sake.

She bites at her lower lip, nodding shyly as she tries to hide her face in her shoulder.

“Don’t get shy, I ain’t shaming you. S’what you used to…” Staring down at her, he licks at his lips before nodding down to where she holds him. “But you gon’ do some work today. Rub it in, c’mon.”

Huffing softly, Ámerei tightens her grip as she takes the reigns. Onyankopon pulls his hand away, using it to aid in his balance above her.

Where she would typically have a comeback, Ámerei keeps her mouth shut. Her thoughts are hazy, body too eager to make contact with him.

Her eyelids lay low, bottom lip tucked neatly between the rows of her teeth as she gently swipes the head of his dick against herself. It brings a shudder out of her, the feeling akin to the licks he’d given her just moments ago.

‘Heavy,’ she thinks. Thick and weighted, like he’s carrying a pipe between his legs.

It’s slow, her movements, as her body gradually wakes to the feeling of his dick against her. But, it’s inevitable that she starts to gain some sort of confidence, especially when he hums in encouragement.

“Mhm.” His breathing is messy and less composed. Louder, too, even as he rolls his lips into his mouth and tries to keep quiet. 

Peering up at him, eyes glossed over, Ámerei chews at her lower lip. Her movements grow surer. She doesn’t stop, even as her wrist burns from the angle made by their closeness and his length. 

She pulls him further and further, dipping the head past her clit. For a moment, he catches just where she opens. Where her cunt seeps around nothing.

“Shit … you so wet.”

The soft rasp of his voice sends a fluttering feeling down the line of her stomach. Her clit jumps as she clenches.

“S’for you,” she mumbles, still keeping that eye contact.

When his eyes flick upwards to meet hers, his face twitches with the effort of a man close to losing self-restraint.

Kissing his teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut. “Stop t-talkin’ like that.”

Her brain vomits out a response too quick for her liking: ‘Sorry, Daddy.’

But her lips quiver as the words die on her tongue, unspoken. Can she say that yet? Should she? Maybe it’s best to save that for someone who’s more of a permanent fixture.

Instead, she revises the thought.

“Sorry, Ony.”

The tiny pout on her pillowy lips is enough for him to reach for her face—better balance be damned. He squeezes her cheeks, pushing those lips out further to plant his own on them as he leans in.

“Don’t gotta apologize,” he says against her mouth, the words garbled and smushed.

Her shoulders shoot up, body tensing as the weight of his head starts to press heavier against her.

“Ony—”

Her warmth is inviting, his hips stutter. “It hurts?” His lips are still pressed to hers. So close, suffocating either of them in the best way.

She shakes her head.

“Let me in, then.” He kisses her softly. “You was just taking my fingers, I know you could take this.” 

One of her hands slip from behind her knees to grip at his upper arm.

“C’mon,” he pants, gently rocking his hips against her, pushing his tip through her lips to spread her arousal. “Be good, you could take this.”

He presses back against her hole, feeling himself inch inside by way of her wetness.

“You know you could take it … know you c-could,” he groans.

“Oh, G-God—”

Her body widens slowly, the feeling foreign as it stretches around the blunt crown of his dick. He pops it in, her walls doing small spasms around him.

“Fuck,” he pants. “It’s hurting?”

A whine is caught in her throat. She tries to swallow it down. 

“Keep going,” she messily shakes her head, strands of her hair getting in her line of sight.

Her face is scrunched up. Onyankopon takes heed to go slow. His hand leaves her face to hold himself at the base.

“Keep holding them legs open … fuck, you real pretty.”

Unexpectedly, a nervous chuckle falls out of his mouth as he looks from where they connect to her face. He breezes past the slip up as he starts to use his body weight to push in. Her breath gets caught in her chest for the umpteenth time with him. 

“O-oh—ohh—”

The weak, high-pitched whine hits his ears as his dick slowly sinks into soft, wet heat. Pushing, pushing, pushing. It’s a far bigger stretch than just three fingers. And it only gets wider the farther in he goes.

He’s hardly even half-way in when he meets resistance, like he’s hit a wall inside of her.

“Fuck—stop, please—”

He freezes, immediately looking down. Her lips stretch as much as they can around him, gripping the sides of him as her walls try their hardest to take him. Their contractions are weak, her body giving its best effort to take something it’s never experienced before.

But as his eyes move just inches upward, he finds the real source of the issue: the barely noticeable swell in the pit of her stomach. 

Right where he is.

Her face contorts in pain, and immediately he takes action to slowly and carefully relieve her of the pressure sitting in her gut.

“M’sorry—fuck, it hurts—”

“Quit that, you good. It’s me, th-that’s my fault,” he grunts, trying to keep his movements slow and controlled. 

When he pulls out, he can’t help but to notice the minor stretch he gave her, the opening of her cunt winking back at him. No doubt, she’s a little more open now.

“My fault, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, reaching for her face. “You want me to stop?”

“Uh-uh,” she shakes her head, peering up at him, a wrinkle still in her brows. “Try again, just—”

“I’ma be careful.”

She nods. Beneath him, she shifts to regain a sense of comfort, reaching down to spread herself open.

French shorties frame shiny wet lips that give away to a pink center, coaxing him in with the promise of a gushy hold. Below her pussy, her second hole puckers tightly. 

“You look good like this,” he rasps, smiling as he takes his dick in-hand. “You helping me?” 

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she nods. Her toes curl in excitement above her. Her hair is messy, in need of a good brushing. A thin sheen of sweat covers her, adding spots of highlight to the high points of her face. Yet, here she is, still so eager to follow through with this.

He grips his dick tighter as another rush of blood makes him pulse.

“Just like that … keep that shit open…”

He guides himself back to her hole and goes for another try. This time, he’s slower, watching carefully as her body accepts him with an ease of familiarity, right up until that spot where he stopped.

She hisses again, body tensing up as she’s unable to hide her discomfort.

“Ow—s-stop—”

“I’m stopping, you good,” he quickly comforts, stilling his hips. 

At his sides, her legs tremble. The pain settles, but not completely.

“You want me to pull out?”

She doesn’t give an immediate answer, eyes and lips sealed shut.

“C’mon, Ámi’, talk to me.”

“I … it’s too mu-uch.”

Her voice waivers. 

She half expects him to be pleased hearing those words. Isn’t that what most guys like to hear?

“Want me to put you in a new position?”

Her eyes pop open. His face is close to hers. She gets a front row seat to the concern laced within his features. And, through her pain, manages a shaky but grateful smile.

“Yeah,” she nods.

The room spins as he pulls back out, still careful. “Turn on your side.”

Wordlessly, she does so. Her head rests against the arm she has splayed against the pillow, a sigh of relief leaving her as her eyes fall closed.

Scooting closer to her, he lifts a leg, pulling it straight up as he lowers himself to sit just at her cunt.

“You comfortable?”

She peels her eyes open just to look at him as she nods. Fatigue is written all over her face, what little they’ve done enough to zap her of her energy.

A real pillow princess.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Upon pushing back in, Onyankopon is pleasantly surprised to find that he’s able to do so with ease. In fact, they both are.

“Mmph,” she mewls pleasantly, eyes falling back closed as he slips in further than he was ever able to.

“Fuck … there we go,” he breathes out.

She isn’t too taut around him. It’s a perfect stretch that makes him feel elated, because he can tell she’s enjoying it, too. 

It takes a while, but he bottoms out; her stretched cunt pressed flush to his balls. The cool skin paired with the light dusting of hair on his sack makes her shudder. It’s such a pleasant feeling, the fullness. There’s still that ache in her lower tummy, but in the sweetest of ways that only makes her want more.

“Onyy,” she whines softly.

“It’s okay?” He’s almost breathless. In this position, he fits a lot more snuggly within her. No awkward poking. 

She nods against the sheets, lips parted. 

“I’m moving slow.”

“Okay.”

He starts out with a slow rock. Back and forth, back and forth. Until with each one, he’s pulling out more inches. Yet, his strokes remain slow and soft. Gentle and rolling. Amazing.

“Oh … ohh … o-oh,” she whimpers softly, eyes rolling back as she twists and turns, gripping the sheets. 

“You enjoying this?”

He doesn’t even need to ask. Not with the way her pussy squelches like she’s got something to tell him. It’s like every time he pulls out, her body cries, only getting wetter.

He finds that he can hit her deeper. "Feels good, right?”

“Uuuh—!”

“Know it does... Could hear it.”

Plap, plap, plap.

Her body claps against him in applause every time he bottoms out. Still going at a moderate pace, still careful with her.

“Ohh, God!”

“I know, I know.” He reaches down to grip her jaw, turning her head to see that pretty face. How much it twists into an ugly expression, hair all over her face, as he digs her out in the best way.

"Had to get you ready, but I'm not gonna go too hard... Too soft for that, can't break you, hm?”

A shrill whines leaves her lungs, the small peaks of her breasts jumping slightly as he fucks into her. All slow, nice, and polite.

"Gotta ... treat you all nice 'n' soften you up. Like you a princess, huh?”

The teasing only makes her clench up.

"Couldn't fuck you in my car … n-not like them other bitches, right?

Before the words cement themselves in her brain, her body is wonderfully stunned by a stroke just an ounce heavier than the last. Meaner.

“Huh?”

She shakes her head, having barely comprehended anything past the first few words of that sentence. He leans in closer, bucking his hips harder against her. Faster.

PlapPlapPlap!

Her whines get chopped and screwed as she writhes beneath him. They turn into silent moans as her mouth hangs open. The whites of her eyes are what he sees.

“Nah, right?”

Her pussy flutters nonstop, sucking him in, begging him to never leave. He grips her ankle tighter, never putting her leg down for rest.

“You want princess treatment... only want niggas to treat you nice and sweet, huh?”

“Oh … mh—mh—mh—ohhh fuuuuuck—”

“Yeaah, right?” A breath chuckle tumbles out of his lips, even as a bead of sweat rolls down his face. “You … t-taking this shit like a … n-natural.”

He sees it: the way she creams around him. How can he not? All of her arousal packs at the base of his dick, translucence building up until it’s thicker and more solid in color; a tight slip and slide for his dick.

“Taking you home … fucking you in my bed like you my girl... This what you came here for?"

It’s like her heart is fighting to get out of her chest. Ámerei struggles to keep a grip on the reality of the situation at hand. Genuinely, it’s like he’s beating her pussy out of its frame. And yet it feels too good for her to want it any other way.

Then again, what does she know?

As expected, there’s a bit of resistance as Onyankopon pulls out. The mild suction tempts him to stay in.

“Please,” Ámerei croaks as Onyankopon gently puts her leg down to rest.

“Relax, I still got you.”

He sits back on his knees, staring down at her with a lust that overpowers whatever fatigue he might be feeling. He can’t tell if it’s the weed or if he’s actually this horny for her.

He’s putting a pin in that thought for later, in favor of putting her face deep in the sheets and her ass high in the air.

“Arch that shit—c’mon, you know what to do… Bet you studied for this shit, too.” Onyankopon wipes the sweat from his forehead with the corner of his comforter. “Deep, too, I don’t do that shallow shit.”

Shifting on her knees, she spreads her legs wider and sinks her back in. And part of her is thankful, relieved that this is the new position. Because being spread open before him, her most private parts on display for him in this manner, has her growing unbelievably shy—she doesn’t want to think too hard about it.

Or about the fact that he might not achieve what he wanted from this position. She’s never had a fat ass, just a noticeable set of hips on a small frame. 

But—see—Onyankopon isn’t worried about that. Not when he’s getting the best view from behind; dribbles of slick ooze from her pulsing cunt. She’s dripping, pussy still wanting more of what he can offer.

“Lil’ thing hungry, hm?”

A lazy slap is dropped on the plane of her right ass cheek, before he softly grips and shakes what little fat is there. The little jiggle is too cute for him, especially when another whine escapes her.

It seems that’s one of the only sounds she’s been able to make lately.

“Speak to me, Ámi… Can’t be the only one talking.”

Blindly, she reaches back for him, searching for his hand.

“Y’know I’m not a talker.” He captures her wrist, gently pressing it to the small of her back. With his free hand, he repositions himself, swiping his tip through her lips. “You supposed to be the one doing all that for me.”

His push back in is one of his biggest highlights of today.

“Th-this shit so … f-ffucking perfect,” he groans out, voice wavering as her walls grip him up in the wettest, warmest way he’s ever felt.

His hips are just seconds from colliding with her ass when he hears it:

Pfft … ppfftt!

“Whew!” He smiles, moving his second hand to grip her hip instead. “Mhm, just like that—that’s the kind’a talking I’m trynna hear.”

That fullness has returned to her. And it’s mind-numbingly amazing. Shaking and sniffling, Ámerei only takes it as Onyankopon pounds into her, just like she wanted.

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh Go—”

She tenses up as he uses his strength to pull her ass back on him as he meets her halfway. Each smack of their skin is sharp and quick. 

“Oouuuuuuuu—ahh,” she cries out embarrassingly, feeling herself just leaking around his dick as he slips in and out of her.

“Quit … l-losing that arch—fuck I just tell you?”

Every new stroke felt punishing, and in the best way possible. She wants to cry and rejoice at the same time. Her knuckles pale as she clutches the pillow beneath her tight. Lord knows she needs something to hold on to as she tries to inch up on the bed.

All that achieves is a two second break, Onyankopon pausing to yank her back before he continues.

“A-another thing … that running shit—” 

The cracks in his voice make her stomach swoop and her pussy flutter.

"Don't know … why you was asking f-for … all this … C-can’t even f-fucking take it—”

The swing of his hips are so heavy against her. The skin on her ass stings and every thrust has her afraid that she’ll lose control of her bladder. 

And yet, it’s bringing her closer to something.

“Why you squeezing me like that? You ‘bout to cum?”

His breathy voice gives her enough of a high to ride off of. But, the timid musk of his sweat is something she hadn’t expected to like; it invades her senses as he leans in over her back, hips still working against her.

“Hm? Y-you ‘bout to cum, Ámi?”

A broken whimper is what she manages, aside from a measly nod of the head.

“C’mon then.” 

The hand on her waist slips beneath her body, slithering to a slobbering set of lips between her trembling legs. 

For a sobering moment, his hips still. He grunts as her pussy spasms around him, still in shock from the way he worked her.

Reprieve ends as he rubs messy but concentrated circles on her poking clit, careful not to put too much pressure on the sensitive bud. 

“Cum on me,” he pants.

Her hips stutter, tummy sucking in as her back arches. “Ony—k-keep doing…”

“Uhuh … cum on my dick. Cum on it—”

A violent shiver nearly takes her out as she lets go around him. His strong arms serve as an anchor for her, as she nearly loses herself in the lasting orgasm.

“Keep—oh fuck,” he shudders, finally letting go himself, emptying into the condom as she milks him dry.

Both bodies twitch against one another, riding out their releases.

It’s after that conclusion, Ámerei learns something new about herself: that sex is definitely an activity to put her to sleep. 

As Onyankopon separates from her—making it a point to notify her that he was just going to get some wipes—she finds it difficult to keep herself awake.

It only works but so well.

Succumbing to her body’s wishes, Ámerei’s eyes flutter shut seconds before Onyankopon enters the room, still naked yet condom-free. She wants to get up when she hears the sound of a soft snort.

“You sleeping?”

Largely, Ámerei inhales as she stretches against the sheets, turning her head and peeling her eyes open to look at him. “Mh-mh.”

His grin is faint, yet she can tell it’s a product of fatigue. And she’s not surprised, he did do all of the work.

Onyankopon makes his way over to the bed, a pack of wipes in his hands. Her eyes fall back closed before that first wipe even touches her hot, clammy skin.

“Mhm, bet you tired now, huh?” 

“Shut up,” she mumbles.

His hands move as his mouth runs, a cocky smile on his full lips. “Don’t know why, I was putting in that work.”

A dreamy smile is all she can muster, too tired to give a genuine laugh.

“Thank you.”

“That polite shit,” he mutters, that smile of his dimming to a genuine grin that he makes an effort to further hide. “You welcome.”

Chucking a soiled wipe on the ground for later, he exchanges it for a new one to wipe the slick that had run between her ass. 

Part of her is caught off guard. She hadn’t expected him to be this … chivalrous. But, she’s not going to deny herself of this service. He was absolutely correct in giving her the ‘Princess’ title. And she is going to play the part.

"Ain’t gon’ lie to you, though…” he licks at his lips, brain producing a line of thoughts that he finds himself happily following. “If you wanna keep doing this … you gotta learn how to take dick."

Without a thought spared, Ámerei sits up on her elbows, pure bliss wiped off of her face in an instant. Mild offense twists her face into a scowl.

“Don’t even trip,” he soothes. 

Onyankopon doesn’t spare her a glance as he runs the wipe down an inner thigh.

“We gon’ fix that."

𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 ᝰ @uzmacchiato @crylynnluv

——

To backtrack, you do this annually.

No, not the whole monster fucking thing but, exploring abandoned and presumably haunted locations in search of one. This year was no different.

Today’s find is quite the eye-catcher. Hidden deep past a forest you’ve searched up and down prior to this discovery sat an old, rumored-to-be haunted manor.

In terms of your monster hunting, you found that the best results came about in the creepiest of places. Which is why there's a sense of longing for the rumors of your currently desired location to be true. After all, even though you've been hunting ghosts 'n monsters for years, you've still yet to ever quite meet one.

Many laugh at your little hobby, throwing names at you and calling you delusional for thinking you'll ever find either of the two. But you digress, one of your friends told you stories about how she'd summoned a ghost before and now you're fully convinced that you'll be able to find one yourself.

You didn't want to take the same (lazy) route as her and summon any sort of creature or spirit, you much perfered to return to her with a unique story of your own about how one came to you. Pun intended.

That, and you'd also like to go back to all those threads online and rant about how utterly wrong they are. Within the community of people who believe in ghost, monsters, and other things of that nature, there are those who then spread lies about how they probably can't or don't know how to have sex.

The first time you read some bullshit about that, you felt offended as if you were a monster or ghost yourself reading it. You knew these non-human beings had the capability to fuck better than the living, you just couldn't quite prove it yet.

Which brings you back to now, as you approach the massive solitary manor with a little glimmer of hope in your eyes, finding yourself in awe of how hulking and crooked the building is—as if it had been sulking from the lack of life for the past century or so.

Were there a few caution tapes and signs that explicitly said ‘Do Not Enter’ just a tree line back from where you were now? Yes. Did you completely disregard those warnings and continue with your exploration like always? Of course!

You pace down the long dirt path that leads up to the wrought iron gate that’s all rusted with the unfortunate hues of being forgotten. Everything about the scenery was perfect. The way the sky colored itself a fall-seasoned gray that’s washed-out and teasing on rain, only for water to never leave those shroudy clouds above, brought peace to your heart.

A strong inhale of the dampened earth around you that smelt of buried mysteries and wonder flows through your senses and brings a smile to your face. There were frosty breezes slipping past the thick fabrics of your sweater and making you shudder under its chill. Perfect.

You had a few items with you in a small bag that dangled off of your shoulder, within it a camera, flashlight, your phone—that surely lacked service this far out—and a granola bar that you found stashed away in your pantry at home. One of which you’re rather questionable of but, you needed the food just in case your monster or ghost decided not to show 'n give you something else to munch on…

As you push through those rusty old gates, which cry out loud groans of protest at the sudden movement, your eyes only get wider. There it was, the manor sitting itself on a slope, outer walls all wrapped in dried greenery where ivy had given up its decorative glow and chose a more gloomy appearance, and three stories of promise that silently begged for your impending exploration.

The gorgeous masterpiece of decay that stood before your very eyes screamed horror and haunting under the darkening sky above. Those washed-out clouds were steadily growing heavier with grey and yet it only excited you more. Perhaps the key to luring out a monster from such a spooky home was carrying some type of fear.

Maybe if you walked in scared, the being you were looking for would come running toward you, eager to frighten you more.

You shuffle through your bag for a moment and tug out your camera just to capture a couple pictures because you had a really good feeling about this place and wanted to have a few things to remember it by. 

As you soon skip up onto the broad porch, the wood immediately exhales dust from your weight meeting it, causing you to cough a couple times and wave a hand out to clear the airy dirt. 

Then your fingers trail over the doorknob for a moment before you give it an eager twist and push forward, earning a wail from its aged hinges as the door swings open slowly. You’re met with thick views of darkness and end up having to squint a little just to make out a few silhouettes. You quickly fish for your flashlight and flick it on, revealing the interior to your curious gaze.

Dust is in the air, as expected, and you don’t waste another second before walking in and letting the door creepily shut on its own behind you with a heavy thud. Not that you flinch or anything. Instead, the sound of that heavy slam makes you smile as you hope that’s a sign you're not alone.

The air smells of age and abandonment along with a hint of something oddly sweet, like decaying flowers or something of the sort. 

You let your flashlight sweep across the entry way and take in the warped wooden planks decorating the flooring, a few pieces missing entirely and leaving holes that revealed thick cobwebs. Then there’s a grand staircase that curves upward all gracefully that’s also covered in cobwebs and looking as if it were much more appealing in a time distant from now. Lastly is about half a chandelier hanging from above, holding onto the torn ceiling just barely, that your light glimmers over faintly as you shine it up.

Glancing back at the shut front door, you cock a brow, “Surely the lil’ door slam wasn’t the best you’ve got to offer me?” You ask out loud, as if you knew someone or something was around here listening to you. Though, this was also a bit of a habit of yours.

While you never got responses to any of your abandoned-house narrations, it was still a habit that helped to fill the silence that often felt as though it were alive and watching you.

When your words go unanswered through a lack of movement from anywhere, you shrug it off and then begin to make your way around the house. You start on the first floor and snap photos of every room you enter, the loud flash and shutter being the only thing to fill the deafening silence of the home as it echoes throughout the eerie hallways.

Eventually, you make your way up to the second floor—y’know, after almost falling through a couple of shambled stairs and becoming a pretty decoration for the basement floor—and explore the rooms up there. Nothing of note really happens (aside from the few items weirdly falling off walls and shelves after you walked past them) until you enter the master bedroom that looked as though someone of royalty could have lived there once upon a time.

Even though you’ve never been inside of a castle to really compare bedroom sizes accurately…

You still felt like the bedroom was rather massive for any normal person to have once been occupying! That, and it was the only room within the entire manor that wasn’t as worn and torn as everything else. Hell, there was a lot less dust on the furniture and nothing was broken inside. It was almost like someone was living–

The temperature in the room suddenly drops to a degree so low your next breath fogs out in front of your lips, leaving you to shiver as your eyes go darting about the bedroom. This wasn’t it, was it? The moment you'd meet a ghost or monster? Or a mix of both??

Despite the frosty air causing your body to shudder and your hands to hug your arms, you felt yourself growing excited already and couldn’t even try to fight off the grin, “Okay, temperature drop… does this mean you’re close and ready to stop teasing me with fallen items like before,” You say, hopefully to the presence in the room with you. It’d be really embarrassing if you were ignored again, “Or are you still too shy to show your fa–”

“You’re trespassing, human.” A low, irritated and gravelly voice drawls out into the air from just a few feet behind you.

The chill you feel running up your spine now is nothing like what you’d felt due to the cold moments ago. No, no, this chill is much more one of warmth and raw fervor. That voice was heavy with a raspy bass and years of being trapped in purgatory—which had you chewing on your lower lip already.

You take a second to collect yourself and get a hold on your emotions before slowly turning around and…

Well, no one’s there.

Batting your lashes a couple times, you quickly feel disappointment stirring up inside you. You were honestly looking forward to finding a monster more than you were a ghost, and if the latter happened to be invisible—that'd ruin the whole fun of it!

Pouting, your flashlight lowers around the empty air as you make an attempt at forcing the darkness into producing a visible ghost via disgruntled glares.

“Real’ cliche, y’know,” You hum. If you’d gotten a response the first time then surely that meant your talking into the void was a step into the right direction, at least. “What’s next, are you gonna make some lights flicker?” You challenge with a little scoff as your feet carefully carry you deeper into the room.

And lo and behold, a light off in the left corner of the room does spark on for just a moment before crackling off with a loud pop! as the glass surrounding it goes breaking and small bits fly over. The pieces clatter to the floor and the flinch it earns from you left you embarrassed knowing that’s yet another sign you’re not alone.

Hell, not only were you not alone but you were also being watched and listened to.

You quickly remind yourself that this is exactly what you wanted and then shake yourself out of the momentary freight. “Hah, funny…” You utter dryly, hoping your (seemingly) ghastly company isn’t finding this short game of cat and mouse humorous. “But uh, if you’re trying to scare me, it’s not gonna work. I literally came here to talk to you.”

Technically you came to speak to any supernatural being, and not specifically the one haunting your surroundings but, if you could make the damn thing feel special for a moment long enough to compel it into showing itself, then a little white lie was worth the try.

"Stop being such a wuss and just show yourself already," You request, turning your flashlight every which way in hopes of spotting something. "I don't bite."

"I'm sure you don't," That same voice comes bellowing out, this time from your right. When you glance over and redirect the lighting, there's finally something. Similar to the infamous Cheshire Cat, there is but a mouth revealed in the air all mystically, "But you do speak far too much. It's no wonder you are here alone."

Then the mouth poofs and your eyes frantically wander around the area to spot it again. You were getting so close to officially meeting a ghost and yet you're stuck with one that had the nerve to tease his revelation.

You continue to aim your flashlight around. "What's wrong with me being here alone? Are you implying I didn't have any friends to bring along with me or something??" You ask, "Cause if so, you'd be wrong."

If anyone else were watching this entire interaction, they'd be fully convinced you'd gone crazy seeing as you were literally speaking to thin air.

There's a thunder of chuckling from behind you and your entire back suddenly feels warm-, hot, even. Followed by which is a rather sensual brush of air against your neck and that voice comes rumbling out hard enough to vibrate throughout the space around you, "Would I?" He purrs huskily.

It's embarrassing how addictive the sound of his voice is becoming. Gulping, your head angles off to the side before you whirl around fully in hopes of laying your eyes on who you're speaking to. Nothing fills the space there but, you could feel his unmoving presence now—as if a pair of eyes were burning into your very soul.

"Yeah, you would," You claim, "I came here alone on my own accord."

"Mmh," A sound of understanding thrums directly in front of you as a half-shrouded shadow finally begins to emerge from the nothingness. It's slow the way his frame comes into your line of sight, the edges of his towering body flickering all ghost-like at its ends and resembling that of burning candle wisps. “Then you’ve yourself to blame for what’s to become of you, tresspasser.”

Something blossoms deep within the pit of your stomach, almost like butterflies. Unfortunately for the increasingly attractive ghost in front of you, you weren’t exactly the type to see the difference between a threat and flirting.

As you fight the urge to smile, his entire figure is revealed to you and… holy shit.

Standing at a staggering six-, no, over seven feet tall is a scowl-faced monster who looked like he wanted to kill you already. Two muscular arms cross over his beefy, inked chest, while another pair of arms have found themself on the purchase of his hips to rest upon. His hands carried dark black paint across the nails and if you expected the description of this beast to stop there, you were oh-so-poorly mistaken.

To your everloving surprise, he also has four eyes that are all fixated on your starstucken frame, taking in every inch of you just as you were him. Then you look down and catch the wide-spread smirk that adorns the fucking mouth on his stomach. The rapacious bastard had two of everything! Surely this was the greed level of which the Bible discussed as a sin so heavily.

Blinking a few times, you catch the way his attire is all ancient and yet regally sitting on his carved hips, robes hanging low whilst his upper half remains completely bare to your hungry gaze. When you finally bring yourself to look up at his face again, you catch the crimson red in his eyes that glared at you so vexingly it almost turned you on, and the matching markings decorating his unfairly even, yet ghastly skin.

Water wastes no time welling up in your mouth at the raw sight of him despite how absolutely haunting he was standing right in front of you. He was so broad that his shadow swallowed you up entirely and seemed to capture the entirety of that pathetic little flashlight in your hands.

You had to be the world's luckiest person. The longer you stood in his presence, the more you understood that this was some weird inhumane blend of a being. Not a mere ghost and certainly monstrous in every way, this was your greatest dream come true.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” You’re breathing out without second thought, eyes widened in awe. “Here I was expecting something like a floating bedsheet and yet you’re…” Your words die out on your tongue as he thumps closer and leans down to you.

Mockingly, his head weighs to the side and he studies your admiring gaze carefully. “You are not frightened," He points out obviously with a confused brow, “Why?”

“Am I supposed to be?” You ask in return. “I told you I came here looking to talk to a ghost.”

The pink-haired male standing broodily before you narrows all of his eyes at you and his gaze seems to grow impossibly sharper. “I am more than a mere ghost,” He seethes out all thickly in annoyance. God, he was really hot… “Mind your tongue when addressing me, human.”

You’re the one cocking a brow and folding your arms now—the gesture rather endearing to someone of his size in comparison to you—and your eyes go rolling with a level of sassiness he finds distasteful. “You look like a mere ghost to me,” You scoff before sizing him up and down, “Hell, or at least as old as one…”

“Excuse me?” He drones out whilst a vein begins to color his sharp jawline with hot irritation, “You will address me correctly, woman. I am Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curs—“

“Yeah, yeah,” You cut off with a wave of your hand. The audacity of your demeanor threw him so off that he couldn’t quite figure out if he wanted to tear you limb from limb or fling you out of the house. “I’ve got what kinda monster you are down already—old, grouchy, and bitchless—just my type. No need for the extra introduction, Mr. King of whatever-the-fuck.”

Sukuna doesn’t think he’s ever found himself at a loss for words until this very moment. 

Genuinely, it was as though all his speech had fallen on deaf ears and he wasn’t used to that in the slightest. Now, it has been years since he’s last spoken to a human but surely your kind hasn’t deteriorated in intellect this much..? Could you not sense the danger that exuded off of his large stature? Were the double appendages and monster-appearance not enough to ward you off immediately?

If so, why the fuck not?

“You-,” The proper syllables in his mouth struggled to formulate for a moment. Then he replayed your statement in his head and his expression twitched. “Bitchless?” Sukuna repeats, confusion splaying out over his handsome face.

Snorting, you offer him a nod of your head, “Yeah, bitchless.” Then you gesture at his ancient attire, “You look like you haven’t seen pussy in decades.”

His lashes merely flutter over at the mouth you had on you and how ridiculously unfiltered it seemed to be. Well, that, and the way your lips curved and slid over one another as you spoke. Sukuna’s unsure why his many eyes zero in there as if he needed to watch your own voice slip out of you.

“And you’ve made this assumption based on..” His deep tone trails off for only a moment as he follows your gaze down to his clothes, “My attire? Traditional clothing leads you to believe I am… 'bitchless'?” Sukuna asks with a far too innocent curiosity weighing into his words. 

The term to describe his lack of women alone already sounded weird coming out of his mouth, all uncouth and unfamiliar to him.

“I mean, yeah.” You huff softly, “That and the way you’re talking-, are those four arms?” You interrupt yourself as if you’d been waiting to get that out ever since you set eyes on him. Then you’re adding on an eager, “Can I touch them?” whilst stepping forward.

Sukuna doesn’t move because the closing distance between the two of you meant nothing to him. “No, you may not-,” He’s answering without considering your words for even a second. Unfortunately for him, he’s been graced by the presence of the world’s most persisting woman; you—who slithers up close to him and reaches an arm out. To which he deadpans, “What are you doing.” as if demanding a direct response from you instead of questioning your actions.

You get close enough to him to feel the weird heat oozing off of his towering body, leaving you to wonder if all your presumptions about the supernatural had been wrong. You thought they were supposed to be cold. This one is everything but. 

Feeling his eyes still on you, “I just wanna get a closer look,” You clarify, “Pleeeease-“

“Do not whine unless provoked.” Sukuna scoffs, doing little to hinder his current loathing. “You will have your look, human, and then you will leave, yes?”

Ignoring his question entirely, you take the permission to study all four of his arms and then run with it. 

Your hands come up to feel along each one carefully, leaving you surprised by the fact that you can even do that considering you thought your touch would sink right through him. It was clear that he was far from dead, despite his haunting stature. He had some sort of ability to control the transparency of his body at will, so that let you know Sukuna specifically allowed his body to be solid just so you could feel on it.

“They’re so big,” You exclaim gently as your palms travel the expanses of his arms and earn a grunt from his throat.

Through this, you end up circling Sukuna and feeling just about every inch of his multiple appendages. The markings and muscles that carve out his body are almost enough to have you drooling (again).

When you make it to his front once more, your touch curves downward from his upper arms and trails over his collarbones before making a descent across his chest. He may be some sort of ghost-monster but he is very much alive in a certain sense. At least, alive enough for you to feel the rapid beating of his heart as your fingers splay over him, and alive enough for you to notice the jump in his low breathing once your fingertips graze his nipples.

Sukuna immediately catches the spark in your eyes when you realize his little flinch and he wastes no time in grabbing hold of your wrists. “Enough,” He warns, “You have felt and looked at me enough. Leave.”

Ignoring him again, your eyes simply dart down and then you hum, “So, four arms, four eyes, and a mouth on your stomach, huh? Does this mean you have two of everything?” You ask before looking up again.

A vein is settling into his forehead now. “Aside from legs, obviously, yes.” Sukuna answers in a tone low enough to rival a snarl.

Wrists still held captive by his larger hands, you nod. “Right, right…” You start out innocently. But—even though he’d only known you for a few minutes now—it was clear you were about to ask something else that’d only piss him off further. “Does that mean you have two assholes?”

“What?” Sukuna scoffs as he flings your wrists out of his grasp, causing you to stumble off to the side a little. Then he crosses his arms again, “No, I have two cocks.”

“Well that doesn’t make any sense but, whatever…” You deride with yet another roll of your eyes. Quickly adding a casual, “Are they big too?”

Any moment now his cursed body will allow him to kill you, surely.

He brings a hand up to pinch the slightly curved bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as he sighs, “Are you insulting me, human?”

“No, of course not!” You say quickly, waving your hands out. “I’m just curious, honestly!”

“Don’t you things have a saying about curiosity and how it kills,” Sukuna bores, gaze flicking over to you once more. When he notices the way you’re still sending him that glimmerful look, he tutts. “No,” He answers, “They are average size. Now leave.”

A brow of yours has never shot up faster, “Average sized for a behemoth like you or…” Your voice trails off as you slowly look down, quickly finding yourself staring rather openly at that downright slutty v-line of his and how veins decorate the center, trailing lower and then disappearing behind the hefty robe bundled up and resting at his hips. 

There was no way a being of his size had anything “average” in between his legs.

It’s not until you notice him stepping forward that all your senses grow rather alert again. Then comes his voice, completely weighted and thick with a sudden tension that has your spine stiffening, “If I show you, will you leave?”

“Probably not,” You reply jokingly to mask the heat that quickly sunk into your face at the sound of his bold words. 

And here you’d thought you’d be the only shameless one here…

Sukuna lets off a stiff groan when he hears your response as he continues his slow pacing toward you. To which you quickly backtrack, “Okay, okay, fine. Since you’re offering, I’ll leave after you show me.”

The distance between you two only grows smaller and you gulp profusely. The old floorboards beneath his feet didn’t creak nor grouse in the slightest under his bulky body and that served as more proof that he was very much a ghost, as if you needed any more by now.

“Good.” Sukuna’s tone draaags out of his body and you feel almost possessed as his next command leaves his slightly rose-toned lips, “Now sit.”

He ordered you so seamlessly that you almost felt like some kinda dog. “Pardon?” You chuckle nervously, “Y-You want me to sit on the floor?”

The monster can’t help the twitch of his lips as they curve upwards into a vicious smirk, “You want a proper look, don’t you?” He asks rhetorically. “Your best view of my cocks will be from down on your knees.” Sukuna claims.

You wanted to hate how stupidly wet his words got you just then but, how could you focus on that when you were too busy lowering yourself down onto your knees for him? The floor is cool against the fabric of your pants where your knees meet them and Sukuna waits until you are completely seated before he even starts moving. 

You barely even knew this creature and within only ten minutes of talking to him, he had you on your knees as he soon used his lower set of hands to pull at the stocky fabrics of his robes. Your eyes were as eager as ever, the look in them making something primal stir inside of the monster in front of you. It’d been so long since he’d laid with a woman and then you came along.

Dropped right at his doorstep too. How perfect.

Sukuna’s thick fingers pluck at his robes ever so slowly just so he could haul the tense moment out even longer. He knew you’d leave once he revealed himself to you so, part of him wanted to take this as gradually as possible. Your gaze never wavers and you’re catching every shuffle of the white fabric against his fingertips and the way they eventually drape off to the side just enough for you to see skin.

And the moment you do, you can’t help the gasp that jumps out of you. Lashes fluttering about, you’re left bewildered by the two large, fully erect cocks bobbing out from under those pesky robes that’d been peeled gracefully to the side like wet panties. Something pathetic threatens to exit you but, tugging your lower lip in between your teeth helps you keep that at bay.

“They’re hard…” You point out obviously whilst your head steadily begins to tip off to the side in awe. His upper cockhead is drooling profusely enough to challenge the saliva welling up inside your mouth right now, especially as your words hit the air.

Sukuna is still glaring down at you like he couldn’t be bothered with this tiresome situation, his top two arms neatly crossed all casually, and a knowing smirk returning to his expression again once he notices the way you’re looking at him. “They always are.” He explains to you.

When you look up again, you miss the way precum sprouts from the tip of his lower cock in reaction. “That must hurt, huh, big guy?” You whisper, knees shifting against the floor to grow closer.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were trying to remind yourself that you wanted to meet a monster. Not fuck one. 

Sukuna flashes a pouty scowl at you, amusement quickly wiped from his face as you carried the nerve to mock him. Something frustrated burned deep in the pit of his stomach the more he stared down at you.

Both of his dicks being paintfully hard just a few inches away from the same mouth he’d been gaping at before surely wasn’t helping his mind right now. And the fact that you still taunted him like he wasn’t engulfing the very space above you was downright infuriating.

Then you had the gall to look down at his erections again. Sukuna watches your lips quirk and he feels himself twitching. “Oh, you’re wet,” You purr teasingly as you lift your index towards his glistening tip.

His jaw tenses immensely and his brows meet, a heavy puff leaving his slightly flared nostrils, “I do not get, ‘wet’, woman.” He argues.

“But, your cocks are dripping,” You hum innocently with a point of your finger, “Look.” Then you unintentionally make contact with his tip, your skin slipping right over the dribbling mess currently leaking from the slit of his blushing head.

Sukuna’s lips part just barely and his voice is uncharacteristically softer, “That’s…”

He can’t find the words to finish that statement of his before you’re scooting all the way forward so that you’re properly in front of him, finger still rubbing faintly against his tip.

“I could help, if you want,” You offer.

His hands fidget slightly as he fights the overwhelming urge to take your head into his large palms and angle you as he pleases—a rush of desire to use your mouth overcoming his thoughts just that quickly. “I have not experienced pleasure from a human in centuries,” He tells you, “What makes you think you’re worthy of pleasing me?”

Blinking, “Perhaps the way you’re wetting up my finger right now?” You say with a chaste snort as you pluck said finger away to see the string of arousal hanging between his tip and your finger. Curiously, you quickly pop that finger into your mouth and suck on it with a little hum.

Sukuna’s brows shoot up in surprise after watching you do that, wondering what the hell got him to this point in his afterlife…

“Fine,” He grumps, finally using his lower set of hands to clasp your face into his palms. Your hands fall into your lap and he steps impossibly closer, feet coming up against the outer sides of your thighs as his cocks dangled over your face. Then Sukuna was pressing a fat thumb over your bottom lip and easing your mouth open, “Since you want to help me so badly, open up properly for me.”

A whine sinks right out of you—one of pure, satisfactory need. As your mouth broadens in width for what’s in front of you, you hardly get a moment to really process what you've gotten yourself into before a plump 'n searing head of wet precum is kissing the skin of your lip.

You keep your eyes up on Sukuna's silently degrading ones whilst your tongue lulls out of your mouth in slutty fashion and carefully swipes up his taste. Then your lips push forward once more and you're going from soft kitten licks to honeyed kisses.

To which Sukuna scoffs and shifts one of his hands to the top of your head, "If this is meant to get me off, you're doing a rather poor job." He comments meanly.

You obviously don't care for his words so, accepting his little challenge, you push your head forward and lift your hand up to his second cock. Your mouth quickly engulfs Sukuna's arguably longer set of inches as drool spills down into the palm you have smoothing over his thicker shaft below.

The quick motions have Sukuna hissing sharply in surprise. You're on your knees lathering his second cock using the mess of saliva and slick from the first as if you'd done this before, skillfully jerking at one length while you hungrily swallowed up the other.

He could hardly keep his many hands on your head, part of him wanting to let you do your thing since you'd seem to know what you were doing now.

His dick easily bulged around your wettened lips and with every deep suck on him. Your face was left brushing against his pelvis and meeting the pretty pink tuffs of hair that decorated his skin there. With each time your lips french kissed his base—tongue spelling your name out against the sensitive vein he had hiding on the underside of his curving cock—Sukuna found himself shuddering.

“Y-Yes, like that...” He stammered, trying to quickly make up for it with a low clearing of his throat and a hearty groan, “Fuuck, what a perfect throat for my cock.” He praises as he works a set of fingers through your hair and watches the way your head twists and bobs--squelches ringing all throughout the air. “I fit in this hole like it was made for me.”

Then the hand you have wrapped oh-so-perfctly around his second shaft is squeezing around him and jerking even faster before you pry your mouth off with a sloppy pop! and then dribble globs of spit all into your hand.

“Y'know, this one’s longer than the other,” You whisper softly as you let your kisser slip against the same dick you just had buried in your throat seconds ago. Then you divulge a drunken little snicker, “And this one-, mh," Your head angles down and smooches at his other erection, "This one’s thicker…”

His left pair of eyes begin to twitch due to your studying and slight analyzation of him, “Stop… mgh-, talking..." He huffs.

You pull away just enough to send him a smile, “Why? You were just throbbing all over my tongue a second ago.”

“Tch," Sukuna scoffs with that expected attitude of his, ears blushing with red he hopes you don't notice (you do). "Open your fucking mouth and make that tongue of yours worth something to me again.” He orders.

Before you get the chance to say anything else snarky or challenging, he's maneuvering your mouth right back onto him. The motion isn't too rough or anything, just enough to get you to shut the hell up before he embarrassingly left a mess of creamy white on that pretty face of yours earlier than he intended to...

“Theere we are. Much better," He utters as his body relaxes and your throat clamps cutely around his plump shaft, “Hahh, you’re a lot more likable as a cocksleeve.”

At that, he feels the way you whine against all his staggering inches and then practically rip yourself off with a slight cough just to huff, “Excuse m-mmpf–”

Unfortunately for you, you're only cut off again by Sukuna feeding his dick past those parted lips of yours—ones of which he truly didn't feel like hearing any more complaints from. Which is why he's fighting back a snicker and his tone comes out a bit more cooing, “No more of that. C’mon now, I thought you were learning,” He whirs out.

Groans that meshed with pretty grunts quickly gurgled out of him as his strong hips started thrusting forward. You lose your grip on him with your hand and to make up for the surprise, your hand merely slips further down to stimulate his weighty balls.

You gag around him almost immediately as you feel his rude cockhead pounding against the back of your throat with a viscous thwack—-having coaxed you into deepthroating him now.

The smile that draws out against his lips is full of pure sin, “Mmgh, look at you—gagging all around me," Sukuna husks out, hand tucking behind your head now to glide you into his thrusts. "Is it too big for you, brat?" He chuckles, tipping his head to the side and adoring the way you pout around him and send him a teary glare, "I thought this was what you wanted?”

You’re left unresponsive to him since you’re too busy taking the way he pulps up against your uvula to tug more gagging and slopped purls out of you. As a completely disheveled mess of a woman below him, you can’t help but feel way more debauched than you thought you would.

And this was really only the beginning.

Sukuna’s impolite with the way he fucks your throat; one cock pumping in and out of your mouth with little to no mercy as the slick of his second head bumps up under your slacked jaw and constantly thumps the center of your throat—serving to only make your trachea tighten around his first. 

And the sounds that were leaving you…

God, it was filthy. All sorts of choking and gurgling surged throughout the room and the mess of spit and liquid arousal that was gathering into a messy little puddle onto the floor in between the two of your legs was just disgusting. 

Sukuna doesn’t find himself losing his patience again until he notices how far apart your thighs have become and the way he can’t exactly see where your second hand has gone off to.

The right corner of his lips twitch and he tips his head over some more—still fucking your throat ‘til it was likely to be bruised—just to finally spot what exactly you were doing. Your hand had dived in between your legs all selfishly to touch what he’d mentally already claimed as his from the moment you’d opened your mouth for him.

An almost feral crack of a smile dawns onto his lust-struck features, “Awh, are you touching yourself?” Sukuna coos again, lower lip sticking out into a pout to mock the whimper you let out against his cock. “How cute. That poor pussy is down there aching for me, isn’t she?” He asks rhetorically before finally using the grip on your hair to pull you off of him. As you pant heavily in an honest attempt of catching your breath, his voice dips impossibly lower, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Despite the dizziness whirling around your mind right now and the way you felt as though you could hardly see through the tears that’d welled up in your eyes from his mean use of your throat, you still manage a nod and a weak hum, “Mhm..”

He scoffs, “You should know I hate mumbling by now. Speak, woman. You had so much to say earlier, don’t stop now just because I’ve given your throat a little fucking.”

He says as if you couldn’t feel the soreness creeping up on you already…

Obediently, you swallow a gulp down carefully and then nod, “Yes, Sukuna.” Your voice is hoarse, as he fully expected and wanted it to be.

But to annoy you even further and test just how far this obedience of yours would go, Sukuna brings a finger to your jaw and tips your head further up, “Yes what? What exactly do you want? Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” You request softly before leaning into his touch more. His hand opens for you and your cheek mashes into his large palm—a gesture of which is far more intimate than he cares for it to be but, he lets it carry out for a moment.

“Mmh,” Sukuna grumbles, “I’ve missed your kind dearly.” Then he takes his hand away from you and nods over to the bed a few feet away from you both, “Get on the bed and strip.”

——

Spoiler alert, the bed breaks.

Now, you don’t know if that’s because you ended up fucking a ghost who also happened to be a literal monster or if that’s because the damn bed was probably older than you were. 

While Sukuna was very rough with your throat, he’s a bit softer with your cunt. You suspect that’s because he hadn’t had pussy in so long, which made him almost like a virgin of sorts.

Though, he did not fuck like one.

“Look at youu, so wet and pretty for my cock,” His words feel as though they were cascading down onto your entire spread frame with how contrastingly gentle they were. 

Currently, his pretty reddened tip was busy driving up and down the expanse of your puffy folds, gathering your syrupy slick all over his skin and letting it smear into the wetness that’d decorated his length from previously.

Sukuna doesn’t miss a single twitch in your body and his multiple pupils dilate as he watches your cunt slobber and twitch around his length before he’d even pushed it in yet, “Do you like that? Yeah?” You merely replied with a half nod of your head considering the way you were losing your mind right now. 

It was a constant and tortuous tease of his monstrous cock sinking up and down your sleeky slit, so heavy and profound with the way he’d occasionally rub aloft against your clit. 

When he finally, finally started to push into you, your back was quickly arching up from the creaking bed and your eyes had crossed from the sheer stretch before rolling delicately back. 

Sukuna glanced down to gape at your clammy thighs clung carefully in two of his palms as he kept them apart. Then, it's rather whorish the way he spits into the pad of his other thumb, pushes the erection he doesn't have inside you to the left for room, and then swipes that thumb of his down to glissade around your clit.

The motion serves to make his entry a tad bit easier for you but it doesn't hinder the number of times whimpers of his name float past your lips. A set of your fingers wrap around one of his wrists just to hold on whilst his plumping head pushes past your tight ring of resistance.

“O-Ohhmygod,” You whine ever so sweetly, unintentionally causing his shaft to bulge deeper into you with an eager-to-please thrust of his hips.

Sukuna’s groans are probably the most hauntingly sexy thing you’ve ever heard in your life. The sound takes up the entire bedroom and has your cunt gushing around him and then pulling his cock all the way into the hilt. 

You’re clinging on his wrist as you gasp from the streeetch he was bullying you with. And he wasn’t even trying to be rough with you (yet), it was just natural. Someone of his size was bound to come with a bit of pain. Luckily for you, getting your throat fucked prior to this had you soaked beyond belief.

Well, that and the fact that you’d been turned on ever since he sent his glares your way.

Right now though? That glare has been replaced with dainty pleasure that’s washed his grumped face—leaving his eyebrows tensed upwards, mouth salivating heavily, and eyes practically forming small hearts in them.

Something in his brain is sputtering. You were so unfairly warm around him that he felt as though he’d finally made it to heaven for a moment; right here, inside you.

After he’s got one cock completely flush within your weeping pussy and has given you a moment long enough to adjust to his size, his hips begin to pry back—just barely. He could only pull his length out a few inches before stuffing himself right back in with a raw, anxious grunt tumbling out of him.

Now that, he hated. He absolutely despised how addictively good you felt. So much so that it takes over his body and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s got you folded up into a mating press. Now his hips were relentless against yours, the clapping of skin bouncing about the room as he sang out groans of how perfect you were.

You were under him struggling to breathe with the inability to move your body—your arms pinned over your head by two of his hands, his others on your legs. It’s not until his cockhead sloppily slips out of your cunt with a gushy squelch and then accidentally presses against that second hole, catching against your rim and earring a whine of surprise from you.

Sukuna’s body halts at the sound and he would’ve stopped entirely if not for the heightened, “Fuck, yes,” that ghosts out of you. Then his eyes snap up to your face and he waits until you give him this look that almost has him blowing his load. “Don’t stop,” You snicker lightly, eyes glinting with want, “I need both of them.” You demand.

Again, the monster’s brain all but malfunctions. His hips are moving at the same time his lips are to respond with a straining simper of, “Filthy girl…” You feel his slathered mushroom tip begin to press forward once more, this time to ease carefully into your ass. There’s another span of slowness as you wince upon entry, though, it’s not a wince of unwelcoming. “You’ve already begun to soak up one of my cocks and now you’re begging for the second?” He teases.

The fluids from your cunt easily served as lube for him to glide in almost smoothly after a few minutes of adjustment. And his second, upper cock doesn’t take much longer to swell back in between your puffy folds.  

Sukuna couldn’t even try to stop himself from cumming the moment he had both of his dicks inside you. It was rather immediate, the cluttered spurts of globby cum into both of your tight caverns of warmth and wetness. His groan is bellowing and almost apologetic as he does so, hips quickly snapping forward in hopes of distracting you from the way he’d manage to cum so early.

…Even though you’d long since made multiple messes around him by now.

Incoherent moans choke out of you now, eyes crossed into dizziness from being filled by not one but two veiny cocks. “S’kunaa,” You’d cry out in a blabbering slur, face a mess of drool and tears as your gaze remained lust-glossed. “I f-feel s’fuckin’ full,” You grumble, arms twitching to escape the weight his own kept on them.

He hadn’t even started moving yet and both of you were completely drunk on one another. Sukuna felt like he couldn’t think and you definitely couldn’t breathe coherently. 

Huffing, “Look at you, all spread out and dumb on my cocks,” Sukuna has the never to murmur to you before leaning his heavy body down and caressing his slippery thumb downwards against your clit. Then he eaches your ear and your brain feels like mush as he whispers carefully, “Prettiest thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

“K-Keep talking about how-, hahh.. h-how old you are, m’close,” You snicker just barely as he turns his head and sticks his tongue out to lap the tears and saliva up from your face.

Then he’s talking against your skin whilst gently rocking his hips forward, just pressing deep against your slicking insides. “Oh, you think you’re so funny, huh?” He challenges.

To which you break out a smile, “Mhmm..”

It’s instinct the way his fingers narrow around your clit to pinch hard enough that a throb is induced from your body. The damn monster acted as though the entire weight of his body wasn’t already smothering you down into the bed, “Laugh now.” 

“Fuu-uck…” You gasp in reaction, “Mmgh! hnngh, Sukuna!”

“You’ll wear my name out if you keep moaning it like that,” He whispers playfully as he finally adjusts his weighty body to help you bring some oxygen back into your lungs. Not that this lasts long since the greedy tongue from his stomach mouth soon splays out against your lower abdomen and slathers its way down to your clit to lull over. Your walls instantly begin to cuddle the swelling shafts of his cocks in reaction.

Yet you still manage to scoff, “Would you r-rather me—fuck, that f-feels good—moan something else?”

“I would rather you shut the fuck up,” He counters before releasing your arms from his hold and then stuffing two fingers into your mouth. You muffle something bratty out against his digits but that only makes him smile, “Ahh, muuuch better. No more of those annoying words out of that drooling mouth of yours. So messy…”

From there on out, everything is just messy and no longer soft. In Sukuna’s mind, he gave you ample time to relish in what little he possesses of a “soft-side” but now it was time to get back on track.

Those angry hips of his waste no more time with meeting your skin with haphazard thrusts as the veins decorating his bulking dicks rub all drunkenly against your honeyed walls.

Quickly earning a groan from him, “Mmgh, I prefer you this way, human.” To which you begin to lap your tongue around his fingers and work your mouth against them skillfully. “Suck harder,” He demands.

You, ever the brat, then decide to clasp your teeth around his fingers and instead of wining in pain or even flinching, Sukuna’s eyes flash something crazed before he moans, “A-Ah… fuck, bite me again.” He pants hotly, feeling your jaw clamp again,  “Harder,” He scolds. Followed by which is a smile that’s paired with a very faint whine, “Fuuuck yes, just like that.. good girl.”

Then he’s snapping into your harder, silently letting you know you’ve done nothing more than fuel his desire and causing the bed beneath the two of you to creak and thrash against the wall. His cum spills past your lips and your puckered hole whilst his monstrous sizes fill you out, leaving a creamy ring of white around his bases.

The mess of it all drools down to wrap around his balls that’d been busy clashing against your skin just as much as his insistent hips were. Sukuna was a merciless fuck, something of which any human you’ve ever been with could never compare to.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Having two fat cocks stretch out your needy holes?” Sukuna drawls out before he hears a shatter of wood from somewhere. 

His eyes leave you for hardly even a second to see that the bed under you both seems to have broken. Nevertheless, there were more important things to tend to right now—such as a sudden splatter of something profusely soaked from below. 

Sukuna looks down faster than ever and his body shudders at the sight and feeling of you squirting on him, “And look at that pussy, my, my… what a slutty lil’ thing she is.”

“S-Sukuna-, hnngh! S’too m-much!” You’re sobbing out, feeling a hand of his come up to cradle your cheek and swat away those messy tears of yours. He’d just licked the last batch of cries away from your face and yet you had the gall to wet it all over again? How rude.

“Oh hush your crying, slut.” He scolds, leaning all the way up now and waiting until your stream comes to a stop, “This can’t possibly be your first time squirting.”

“It iss,” You whimper, eyes rolling back, and legs still quivering from it. “S’too fuckin’ m-much… nngh-,” Your last moan is a bit quieter considering your voice is rather lost to pleasure by this point.

“And yet you took it all,” Sukuna huffs with a roll of his eyes. Then he slides out of you, his thick seed splattering out against your sweaty skin and leaving a mess of obscenity behind. “All of my inches, deeper and deeper into the back of those weepy holes.” He hums, tone reverberating against his throat.

Your body is left convulsing for a long moment whilst you feel the weight in the bed shifting, your eyes sealed shut, and mouth agape to capture most of your lost breath back.

Sukuna’s touch had left you and you thought you both were done. Uh-fucking-fortunately for you, it’s not long before his hands are gabbing at your thighs and tugging your body down against the bed.

You gasp loudly as your eyes fly open and you look down to see him in between your legs, face way too close to your pulsing pussy. “Sukuna, w-wait… you’re not about to–”

“Relaax, silly human. I just want to clean you up,” He murmurs slyly, angling his head inward and bringing his lips to the mess of cum and remnants of your squirting. You take a second to relax again but when you do, his eyes are hungry on yours, “Perfect,” He sighs, watching you bring a hand down and then diving it into his pink hair. “Now watch me feast.”

And feast he does, licking up every drop of cum that’d been left all over your gorgeous skin. Sukuna may have absolutely ruined you but he’d never leave you like that. His tongue is kittenish against your inner thighs and around your abdomen, making sure to clean around your cunt and saving the best part for last.

When he finally gets there, he’s pussydrunk all over again. His fat tongue dives past your plush folds and then gives them a firm suck to tug his seed out of you, “Mmgh.. we taste… ah, delicious together.” He whispers into your pussy. “Haahh, my woman spoiled me so well, mmhmm.”

You’re flinching every now and then due to the prominent sense of overstimulation thrumming throughout your body but since his tongue isn’t as bullying as the rest of him had been…

Broken and soft, “Y-Your?” you ask with barely furrowed brows.

“Pwah, you heard me. My woman,” He spits out, thumbs coming up to pry your glossy lips apart and watch you throb, “Isn’t that right, beautiful?” He says to your cunt softly. You clench around nothing weakly and that brings a tender smile to his face, “Mh, such a helpful lil’ thing…”

...So much for simply summoning a ghost or meeting a monster.

Your slutty ass just had to go the extra mile and fuck both wrapped up in one sexy package, huh?

To answer that, yes.

perm sukuna tags (1/2):

@cupidstrace @iiakithegoat @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @grignardsreagent @kingofpiratesiguess @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa444 @etsuniiru @starsryi @not-a-glad-gladiator

@audiblez @2kool4skoolll @bbfawns @elliescumtubeslut @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @oookore @whore4hobie @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey

@iaintblockinnobody @anothergojostan @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @kunababy @withersworld @lilacsforveins @suguphile

@megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @bellesiy @serenadesvt @simp4idk

Your stomach dropped. This was it, he was bored already. Probably wanted to bring in some other slut, watch her choke on his dick while you sat there like a pathetic cuckquean, or worse, wanted you to watch him rail someone else.

Manipulative blue-eyed asshole. You cried in your dorm that night, but you still showed up. Because losing him? Not an option. You were addicted to the way he stretched your tight little cunt, the way he laughed when you squirted all over his abs, the way he called you his good girl while he pumped you full.

So here you are, Friday night, heart hammering, dressed like the desperate whore you are for him. Tiny black pleated skirt that barely covers the bottom curve of your ass—every step flashes the lacy edge of your thong. Low-cut red top clinging to your tits, nipples already pebbled and poking through the thin fabric like they’re begging to be sucked raw. Heels that make your legs look obscene. You came here to get fucked. Hard. Rough. Until you can’t walk straight.

The front door’s unlocked like he said. You push it open and—There he is. But not your Gojo.

Same snowy hair, same ocean blue eyes, same stupidly perfect face… except this one has messy strands falling into his glasses, a black shirt stretched across a lean, ripped chest, and gray sweats that do nothing to hide the heavy outline of a fat cock resting against his thigh.

Satoru. The brother you vaguely remember Gojo mentioning once in passing. You didn’t know it was a twin. A carbon copy. Beautiful. Dangerous.

He’s lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, one arm slung over the back like he owns the fucking planet. His eyes rake over you slow —starting at your heels, crawling up your bare thighs, lingering on the way your skirt rides up enough to show the soft underside of your ass, then higher to your tits spilling out of that slutty top. You have no idea what's going on his head. His expression looked neutral, bored but a little amused.

Your heart beats harder. Same eyes. Same stare. But the look in them isn’t the playful hunger you’re used to. This is darker. Hungrier.

He tilts his head, voice low and smooth, a little raspier than Gojo’s. “Are you his girlfriend?”

You nod, throat dry. “Y-yeah…”

His gaze drops to your tits again, slow and deliberate, then lower, like he’s mentally peeling your skirt off. “Hmmm. Not bad.” The words drip with pure lust, like he’s grading how well you’d take two cocks at once. “Name?”

“Y/n…”

He smirks, lazy and wicked, adjusting his glasses with one long finger. “I’m Satoru. You can call me Toru.”

Your cheeks burn. “Ye—yeah, sure. Where’s Gojo?”

Toru jerks his chin toward the hallway, eyes never leaving your body. “In his room.”

You swallow hard. “Then… I think I should go.”

“Yeah,” he drawls, voice thick with filthy promise. His cock twitches visibly in those sweats. “See you in a bit.”

You nod way too fast and bolt down the hallway, heels clicking, skirt swishing against your ass, pussy already dripping down your thighs because what the actual fuck.

'See you in a bit.'

What the hell did he mean by that?

Your mind’s spinning, heart slamming against your ribs. Is he really gonna be here? Sitting in the living room, hearing every damn thing?

What the fuck were you thinking, agreeing to this?

What the fuck was Gojo thinking?

You stop right outside Gojo’s bedroom door. You can already hear low music playing inside. Your boyfriend’s voice humming something lazy. Your hand shakes as you reach for the door… You knock once, soft and shaky, like you’re scared the whole house will hear how desperate you already are. The door swings open almost immediately.

There he is, all cocky grin and messy white hair, wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweats that hang dangerously below his sharp hipbones. The thick outline of his cock is already half-hard, bulging obscenely against the fabric like it knows exactly why you’re here.

His eyes rake over you the same filthy way his twin did —starting at your heels, dragging up your bare thighs, lingering on the way your tiny skirt rides up to flash the curve of your ass, then higher to your tits practically spilling out of that slutty red top. Nipples hard as diamonds, poking through like they’re begging for his mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he drawls, voice low and gravelly, one big hand immediately palming his dick through the sweats, squeezing the fat length like he’s showing off. “Look at you. Dressed like a whore, huh?”

Your face burns. You can feel the heat crawl down your neck, your thighs pressing together instinctively. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Long fingers wrap around your wrist and he yanks you inside. Before you can even catch your breath, his mouth is on your tits—hot, wet, sucking one hard nipple right through the thin fabric while his other hand shoves your top down, freeing both breasts to the cool air.

“These tits,” he groans against your skin, tongue swirling around the stiff peak, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper. “Fuckin’ perfect. Gonna look so pretty bouncing while I pound you.”

You slap a hand over your own mouth to muffle the moan that rips out of you. His brother. Satoru. He’s right there in the house. What if he hears? What if he comes closer? Your stupid, reckless boyfriend doesn’t even seem to care.

You push at Gojo’s chest weakly, panting. “G-Gojo… wait… are we really gonna do it here?”

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, smirking down at you like you just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Yeah, why not, babe?”

“Well… shouldn’t we go somewhere more private…?”

“This is my house, yeah?” He shrugs, lazy and unbothered, already grinding his hard dick against your stomach. “So what’s the issue?”

You swallow hard. “Well… your brother’s here…”

“Ohhh, you saw him?” Gojo’s grin turns downright devilish. Blue eyes glittering with something dark and excited.

You nod, cheeks flaming. “Hmm. Gojo…” You try again, voice small. “Are we really gonna do it? I mean… things are great between us, right?”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing for the first time. “You agreed to it, baby. Why the cold feet now?”

“I… I mean—”

He cuts you off mid-sentence, eyes flicking over your shoulder toward the doorway. A slow, filthy smile spreads across his face. “Ahhh. He’s here. Let’s start, babe?”

Your heart stutters. “Yeah but—"

Okay, wait… he? Did he just say… he’s here? Did you hear that one right? Well truth be told, Gojo never said the other person was a girl, did he? He just said “something new,” “to spice things up.” You assumed it would be some hot sorority chick he wanted to bang. Not… not this.

As if the universe is mocking your spiraling thoughts, a low, familiar voice cuts through the room from behind you.

“Yeah, let’s get it over with. I’ve got studying to do after this.”

You whip around so fast your skirt flares.

It’s him. His brother. Glasses slightly fogged, snowy hair messier than before, black shirt already half-unbuttoned to reveal a lean, cut chest that looks just as carved as Gojo’s. He’s stepping inside, long fingers lazily popping the last few buttons open one by one. The shirt slides off his shoulders and hits the floor. He reaches back without looking, shuts the door with a soft click, then twists the lock.

Your brain short-circuits.

You look between them—same eyes, same smirks, and their fat cocks already straining against their sweats like they’ve been hard since the second they saw you in that tiny skirt.

Gojo steps up behind you, hands sliding around to grope your bare tits again, rolling your nipples between his fingers while he grinds his dick against your ass.

Satoru steps closer, eyes locked on where Gojo’s hands are mauling your chest, then dropping lower to the way your thighs are trembling. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out except a pathetic little squeak.

Is the threesome your boyfriend mentioned… with none other than his fucking twin brother?!

************

You don’t know what the fuck you did in your past life to deserve this kind of depravity, but clearly the universe decided to pay you back in the filthiest way possible.

All you wanted was the pretty boy Gojo, to be yours. To love you stupid, to fuck you so dumb and deep that your greedy little cunt would reshape itself around his fat cock forever, molded to take only him.

But when the hell did it spiral into this?

When did it turn into the same boyfriend pinning your thighs wide open with his big hands, spreading you like a fucking buffet so his twin brother could stare straight into your dripping, needy pussy? Legs hooked over Gojo’s forearms, skirt and thong forgotten on the floor, your slick, swollen folds are on full obscene display. Your clit’s throbbing visibly, hole twitching and weeping like it’s already begging for both of them.

They looked the fuckin' same. If it weren’t for the glasses and the messy hair on one and the cocky grin on the other, you wouldn’t even be able to tell them apart. And now the sick, horny part of your brain is screaming one question louder than the rest:

Do they have the same cock too?

You’re about to find out.

Satoru kneels between your spread thighs like he’s got a goddamn anatomy final tomorrow and your cunt is the only textbook that matters. He’s close enough that you can feel his hot breath ghosting over your clit, making it jump.

“Damn…” he mutters, voice low and rough, eyes locked on your pussy like it personally offended him by being this perfect. “Your bitch has a nice cunt, Gojo.”

Gojo laughs, that dark, smug sound vibrating against your back where he’s got you cradled against his chest. “Told ya. And it’s so fuckin’ tight—can’t even last in her without wanting to blow my load like a virgin. She milks me dry every time.”

Satoru hums, leaning in closer. “Hold her legs up higher. I wanna see everything.”

Gojo obeys instantly, gripping under your knees and yanking your thighs back until you’re practically folded in half, cunt spread wide and obscene, hole fluttering under their stares.

“Like this?” Gojo asks, voice dripping with filthy pride.

Satoru nods slow. “Yeah. Perfect.”

Then his long fingers are there—two of them sliding through your folds, spreading your slick, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit until your hips jerk and a slutty moan rips out of you.

Gojo laughs again, right against your ear. “Now now, don’t feel too good yet, yeah? You’re gonna make me think I wasn’t fuckin’ you good enough before.”

“N-no,” you whimper, voice shaking, “that’s not—ah!”

Satoru doesn’t let you finish. He dips his head and drags his tongue in one long, filthy stripe from your leaking hole all the way up to your clit, sucking the little bud into his mouth like he’s starving.

You cry out, hands flying to clutch Gojo’s thick forearms, nails digging in as your whole body arches.

Gojo presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, teeth grazing. “That’s it, baby. Such a good thing for us.”

Satoru pulls back just enough to slide one finger inside you—then two—curling them slow and deep while his thumb keeps rubbing messy circles on your clit. He looks up at both of you, blue eyes dark and mocking behind his glasses.

“How’s it feel, prick?” he asks Gojo, voice thick. “Watching your girlfriend’s tight little cunt get played with by me?”

Gojo groans low, one hand sliding down to pinch and roll your nipple hard between his fingers, tugging until you whine. “I hate to admit it… but I’m glad I lost that fuckin’ game. Wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Your brain stutters. “W-what game…?”

You barely get the words out, voice all breathy and wrecked while Satoru’s fingers pump in and out of your sopping cunt, slick dripping down his wrist.

Gojo chuckles dark, twisting your nipple again while he grinds his hard cock against your ass. “Y'know baby, last week we were playing this racing game. Shit got heated. We put a bet on it. Toru said if he won… he’d get to fuck my girlfriend.” He leans down, lips brushing your ear. “And here we are, baby. Your pussy on the line—and he fucking won.”

A fresh gush of slick floods out around Toru’s fingers the second the words sink in. Your boyfriend bet your cunt in a video game. And lost. And now his twin is knuckle-deep in you, scissoring you open like he owns it. You should be mortified. You should be pissed.

Instead your cunt clenches hard around those invading fingers, thighs shaking, because that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

Satoru smirks, feeling you flutter. “Always hated this prick,” he mutters, eyes never leaving your face as he fucks you deeper. “Wanted to get back at him. Can’t believe he was hoarding a tight cunt like this all to himself.”

Gojo snorts, still playing with your tits like they’re his personal stress toys. “A little gratitude is fine, yeah?”

Satoru just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, go fuck yourself.”

Then he pulls his fingers out with a wet squelch, stands up in one smooth motion, and shoves his sweats down.

His cock springs free—thick, veiny, flushed dark at the tip, slapping up against his cut abs with a lewd smack. It’s identical to Gojo’s. Precum beads at the slit, dripping down the shaft as he wraps a hand around it and strokes once, slow and filthy.

“Playtime’s over,” he says, voice rough, eyes locked on your gaping, dripping hole. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got better things to do.”

You blink hard, once, twice, like the universe is straight-up trolling you. Because look at that—Satoru’s cock is the fuckin' same as Gojo’s. Same ridiculous length, same thick, veiny girth, same angry flushed head already drooling precum down the shaft like it’s been waiting to ruin you. Is that even biologically possible?

It slaps up against his abs with a heavy, wet sound and you swear the damn thing twitches like it’s waving hello, mocking you. Buy-one-get-one-free deal on the world’s most dangerous dick. You just wanted one pretty blue-eyed devil to rearrange your guts… and now you’ve got two that look like they were cloned in a lab specifically to ruin your holes.

You’re not complaining. Not even a little.

Especially not when Gojo hooks his big hands under your knees and folds you in half, shoving your thighs all the way back until your knees kiss your tits. Your pussy completely exposed—puffy, soaked, clit swollen and shiny. Your hole flutters openly under their gaze, dripping a fresh string of slick down to your asshole.

Satoru slaps his fat cock against your folds twice—wet, obscene smacks that make your cunt clench hard—then lines up and pushes in slow. Inch by thick inch, stretching you open like he’s claiming territory.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, head falling back, glasses slipping down his nose. “Haaa… so fuckin’ tight… goddamn, what the hell is this pussy made of? S'choking me.”

Gojo laughs low and filthy right by your ear. “Told ya, man. Cunt’s so tiny I can barely last ten strokes without blowing. She was made for this.”

Satoru starts moving—slow, deep, grinding thrusts that drag every vein along your walls. He curses under his breath with every snap of his hips.

He can't help it. Satoru never felt anything this good in his life… Who knew fucking his own brother’s pretty little girlfriend would feel this fucking perfect? He should’ve done this earlier.

He bottoms out and grinds in circles, stirring your insides. “Why’s it so goddamn tight, huh? Your boyfriend’s dick that small? Hasn’t stretched you out right?”

Gojo scoffs, still holding your legs wide. “Oh hey, come on, shut the fuck up. Mine’s bigger than yours, asshole.”

“I don’t think sooo,” Satoru mocks, slamming in harder just to watch you squeal.

“Well I think sooo,” Gojo fires back, one hand dropping to rub tight, mean circles on your swollen clit while his twin rails you. He looks down at your fucked-out face—mouth hanging open, eyes glassy. “Right, baby? Tell him whose cock is bigger. Back your man up.”

You can’t. You literally can’t. Your brain is melted, eyes rolling back as Satoru’s cock bullies that spongy spot inside you over and over. He chuckles, dark and smug. “She’s fuckin’ cock-drunk already, bro. Look at her—can’t even talk.”

Gojo grins. “Let’s ask her properly then.”

Satoru yanks out with a wet pop, leaving your cunt gaping and clenching around nothing.

Gojo lightly slaps your cheek—once, twice—bringing you back to earth. “Baby… tell me the truth. Whose is bigger? Mine or his?”

Your eyes dart between them. You bite your lip, then do the sluttiest thing imaginable: you reach down with both hands, spread your own dripping pussy lips wide open, and whimper,

“I… I don’t know… Put it in here… I’ll… I’ll tell you…”

They both freeze for half a second, then groan like you just killed them.

“Jesus Christ,” Gojo mutters, already shoving his cock into your stretched hole in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You scream into the sheets, clutching fistfuls of fabric as he starts pounding.

“How’s that, baby? Mine’s bigger, yeah?”

Satoru rips him back out and slams in right after—same depth, same force. “Mine’s bigger, isn’t it?”

You stutter, voice wrecked. “B-both… both the same size—ahh fuck—same—same—”

“Yeah?” Satoru growls, giving you one especially vicious thrust that makes your toes curl. He pulls out, hauls you up like you weigh nothing, flips you onto all fours, and buries himself back inside in one go. Your face smashes into the sheets, ass up high, back arched like a bitch in heat.

“Now now, don’t forget me,” Gojo says, crawling in front of your face. He strokes his leaking cock, smearing precum across your lips. “Here, baby. Open up—aaahhh.”

You obey instantly, sucking him down your throat like his good girl, hollowing your cheeks while Satoru pounds your pussy from behind.

Heaven. This is actual fucking heaven—sandwiched between two monstrous cocks, one brutalizing your cunt, the other fucking your throat in perfect sync. They pick up speed, hips snapping, balls slapping. Satoru keeps nailing that spot until your eyes cross.

“Hmm—Toru—right there—nghh—more—”

Gojo grabs your hair, yanks you back onto his cock. “Come on, don’t forget your poor boyfriend now.”

They fuck you faster, meaner—Satoru cums first with a guttural “FUCKKKK—cumming—” and a hard slap to your ass that leaves a burning handprint. Thick ropes of hot cum flood your pussy, so much it squirts out around his cock.

The feeling of him pulsing inside you makes you moan around Gojo’s dick, throat tightening. That’s all it takes—Gojo groans “Babe—aaahhh shit—” and unloads straight down your throat, holding your head still while you swallow every drop like the cumslut you are.

All three of you are panting, sweat-slick, wrecked. Thick white cum leaks from your abused pussy and drips from the corner of your mouth. Your ass is still in the air, cunt twitching. Satoru lazily rubs two fingers through your folds, spreading the mess, playing with your oversensitive clit until you whimper.

You think that’s it. You’re foolish enough to believe they’re done.

Gojo smirks, wiping sweat from his brow. “Wanna take this side?”

Satoru shrugs, already hard again. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

And they switch.

They keep trading your holes like you’re their personal fucktoy—Gojo in your pussy while Satoru fucks your throat, then Satoru back in your cunt while Gojo uses your mouth, over and over until you lose count. You don’t even know when it ends. Time stops existing. All you know is cock, cum, and the wet sounds of them ruining you.

When you finally blink back to reality, your eyes flutter open to the most obscene sight: both of them latched onto your tits like starving men. Gojo sucking and biting one nipple, Satoru on the other, tongues swirling, teeth grazing, hands squeezing your soft flesh while their still-hard cocks rest heavy against your thighs. Your tits ache sweetly from all the sucking and biting, nipples puffy and dark.

You reach down, threading your fingers through their snowy hair, caressing gently as they nurse on you like they’ll never get enough.

Gojo pops off your nipple with a wet sound, grinning up at you with that same cocky sparkle. “Fuck… we might’ve just knocked you up tonight, baby.”

Satoru lifts his head too, lips shiny with spit. “Good luck figuring out whose it is. Kid’s gonna come out looking exactly like both of us.”

Gojo laughs, low and filthy, nipping your tit again. “Guess I'll just have to keep breeding this perfect cunt until I make sure it's mine.”

Satoru smirks, already rubbing his cock against your leaking hole again. “One more?”

"Toruuuu....." you pouts softly, as you thread your fingers through their hair, petting gently, pulling them both back down to your tits.

Yeah. You’d said yes to “something new” because you were terrified of losing your boyfriend. And now… this.

Two perfect, pretty boys, both of them buried so deep inside you that you can still feel the phantom stretch. Both of them looking at you like you’re the prize they’d fight over. Both of them still hard against your thighs, already thinking about going at it again.

Thank god you said yes.

Thank god you trusted that reckless suggestion.

Because if you hadn’t… you’d still be having just one of them. Now you’ve got two.

Yeah.

Best fuckin' decision you ever made.

Dedicated to my lovely wife @chewiebee

you felt like you were dreaming at how nice he was to you within the first month of you being a justice league member. a superhero, a public figure. he'd accompany you on missions as your mentor and give you heap-loads of praise even if you screwed up.

if he had to rescue you last minute from an enemy, he'd patch you up with gentle hands and whisper pretty words to you, cooing about how mean those guys were for scarring your sweet little face. he gives you a big, warm hug before dropping you off to your quarters so you can rest.

he can practically see hearts in your eyes whenever he talks to you. barry and hal tease him endlessly about it, how he should charm his way into your pants or anything and that he's halfway there. bruce says; "don't you dare, clark." and diana stays completely out of it. at first, clark is firmly in agreeance with bruce.

you're the baby of the group, naive and gentle and you definitely couldn't handle a guy like him anyway. "i'm not sure i could ever see her like that, boys." he shrugs with a little charming smile. "she told me she had a poster of me up on her wall when she was in ninth grade. do you want me to ruin that for her?"

but the longer he spends with you, the more his restraint waivers. you're so cute, in a kitten-like way. always trying to show off for him, shifting yourself into different people to mock them just to get a laugh out of him. following him around all wide eyed even if he laughs and kindly tells you he has to take a nap or needs some alone time (he can't tell you all the touching you're doing is giving him a hard on and he needs to jerk off so he doesn't come onto you).

but you won't stop, you're just so excited to be around him and you blurt out how he's your role model and you love him so much and he doesn't even realize he's doing it before his lips are on yours and he's cramming you into a little alcove with his strong hands holding you in place.

clark is known to have so much restraint, and he doesn't understand why it all flew out the window with you. but the second his tongue enters your mouth, he doesn't care to hold back anymore. he swirls his tongue round yours, having made quick work of pushing it into your mouth, and starts tugging off your clothes with a swiftness you've never seen before because he's never impatient with anything. you gasp and moan when he trails his lips down to your pulse point and starts sucking lovebites onto your soft skin, bruising and biting your flesh with no restraint.

he doesn't care if you're more than a decade younger than him, he doesn't care if he's your idol and you would never expect him to do this to you, you had it coming. grabbing him a few inches away from his bulge, hanging off his arm and giggling about how perfect he is and how you love him... well. he'll see if you still love him after he fucks a heavy load of cum into your pretty hole.