highway to heaven

The smirk widened at the sight of your pretty blush, your flighty eyes lowered to the stone floor as you murmured gently, “I had a car accident…”

Sukuna hummed, brows furrowed in sympathy.

“Bad luck, huh?” he said, his voice a deep rumbling in his chest, fond and affectionate as he watched you squirm.

“Yeah… that sounds about right,” you agreed with a soft cute sigh, eyes heartwrenchingly dejected.

“My lord, shall we move on to her judge?” Uraume cleared their throat and looked down at the scroll of all of your records. 

This time, Sukuna fully straightened up with a nod, receiving the scroll with one of his four, meaty hands, noticing your eyes on them with a silent smirk.

Uraume started to list off very minor crimes you have done in your life, which all made Sukuna chuckle amusedly as he caught onto your embarrassed blush on your face. In the end, he judged you to go to heaven, chest warming as he saw your face relax and you sighed softly.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, bowing to him. So polite.

“Mm, of course,” Sukuna grinned. “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

You were taken away by some of the guards, and his smirk widened, pupils dilating as he saw you glance back at him, smiling shyly. Once you were gone and the next dead person was just about to enter, Sukuna straightened up. 

“Uraume,” he said, voice booming as a grin curled on his lips. “Can you—”

“I fail to understand how that’s appropriate, my lord,” they replied with a sigh, rubbing their temple in their usual stress.

Sukuna raised a brow at them before scoffing. “Don’t argue with me. Get that girl out of the judging process.”

“Oh lord.”

༊·˚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You’re sprawled across the enormous, mahogany table, your white robe stripped away to reveal your skin, glistening with the humidity.

Sukuna softly cursed at how soft and small you looked underneath him, so delectable as he dove to the crook of your neck to lap at the small bead of sweat collected at your collarbone. His deep hum vibrated against your body, and a smile spread across his lips against your skin once he felt you shiver.

“Come on, doll. Let me make you feel good.”

Your doe eyes stared up at him as you nodded coyly from under your lashes, breathlessly replying, begging, “Yes please.”

“Good girl,” he cooed. Laying his large palm flat underneath your thigh, he lifted your leg to press them by your sides. Without any hesitation, he dove in between your legs, down to your pussy, his adam’s apple bopping as he slurped, swallowed and gulped down on your sweet juices. 

“Hahh, ngh—”

“Fuck, ‘m so thirty. You taste so good doll,” he groaned, pushing his nose against your clit, lapping at your juices desperately with insistent licks like a mutt. He let out a pathetic moan as your hands flew to his head, gripping at the pink strands of his hair to move it up and down, up and down to ride him better. “Hahh—”

His hot breath panted against your glistening folds, giving attention to your clit by slurping it, suckling at the adorable nub and flicking his tongue against it. Your moans got louder, sweeter, making his head incredibly dizzy and he couldn’t resist from pushing his thick knuckled finger into your puckering hole.

“Aghh, Sukuna—!” you gasped, eyes bulging out as you tried to squirm your thighs away, trying to wrap them around his head, only to feel his calloused hands insistently pushing harder against your chest, folding you easily.

“Yes, doll?” he snickered, pulling himself away from your pussy monetarily to look down at you, his chin slobbered with your slick—even the roots of his hair were damp, sticking to his forehead and temple. He mercilessly pumped his single finger inside your pussy, stretching your tight hole that tried to clamp down on him adorably.

“Please…” you begged, babbling his name darlingly as your thighs started to quake from how he started to flick and massage his finger tip against your wall.

“Please what?” he taunted. He pressed himself against you, his thickkkkk belly tongue lolling out to lap at your clit and your pussy around his finger to slobber with his spit. “Love your manners, sweetheart, but you gotta tell me what you want properly.”

“I—” You let out a surprised scream as he inserted a second finger inside your cute hole, pumping faster-faster-faster to slap his knuckles rudely against your swelling folds.

“Can’t, heh, hear you from all of the sound your pussy’s making,” he grinned. “So wet, sucking me in, so fucking greedy. Can you hear her begging my fingers to stay?”

Splat, splat, splat—

“At this point, I should just throw you to hell since your pussy’s so greedy and wants the king of hell to keep fucking her,” he laughed crudely, pussydrunk just from eating you out and fingering you, the sensation of your walls around his skin enough to have him reeling. “Or maybe to Samghata Hell, since you’re such a filthy slut…”

He added a third finger, swirling his thick digits inside your pussy.

“Gonna cum, cum-cumming!!”

“Mm, go ahead, doll,” he purred, cackling as he slammed his fingers roughly. Stars burst out behind your eyes as the tight coil of your belly finally being released, and you convulsed around his fingers, coming hard. Sukuna fucked you through it, helping you chase your climax, watching you with heart eyes as he saw your face contort in pleasure.

One of his other hands found your clit again to rub them generously, making you whine pathetically from the overstimulation. Pulling his fingers out of your pussy, he brought them to his pink lips to roughly suck on your juices collected at the crevices of his skin. His eyes rolled back, a deep hum rumbling from inside his chest as he tasted you. Noticing your hazy eyes staring up at him, he smirked and made a show of lapping at his fingertips—filthy. 

Pushing his spit covered fingers into your small mouth, his pupils dilated black as he watched you suckle on them, hollowing out your cheeks.

“Actually, nevermind,” he murmured, rudely taking his hand away from your mouth to roughly kiss your lips instead. A soft, delighted sigh whisked out of you as you kissed him back, suckling on his tongue, making his lips tugged into a satisfied smirk.

Tugging your lower lip with his teeth, Sukuna’s four, heavily lidded eyes watched your glassy look on your face, feeling your breathless pants against his lips as his thick belly tongue started to pump in and out, in and out inside your pussy. “T-Too much, ‘kuna, hahh…”

“Yeah? Well, I changed my mind,” he murmured fondly. “Should just hire you to sit prettily on the Mountain of Needles. Have those dead losers try to have their hands on you, have them hurt themselves as they desperately try to climb up those needles… Then”—At the same, Sukuna pushed his fingers back inside your hole, this time adding another fourth finger to fist out your tight little pussy, the schlick-schlick sound of your wet pussy echoing across the hall—“I’ll fuck you on top of the mountain, have those motherfuckers watch you take my cock like a good girl, stretching your pussy out for my fat cock like the slut you are. You like that?”

“Yes yes yes!” you whined, tossing your head back, clenching your walls around his fingers tantalisingly.

Fuuuck.

“So cute, doll. So sweet for me,” he purred, leaning in to kiss your jaw. His nose nuzzled against your neck, and the scent of your sweat and aroma hit his nostrils like a damn truck. His cock twitched and convulsed, feeling too tight in his pants.

“Fuck me baby,” he groaned, toppling his weight on top of you. His lips peppered the shell of your ear with soft kisses. “You ready for me to fuck you properly?”

“Mmm, fuck—! Yes please, please…” Your blabbers went on, slurred at the end of your vowels. “Want you so bad, please!!!”

“So fucking well-mannered. Such a cute little pup,” he cooed, licking your cheek with a slowwww glide of his tongue against your adorable fat. Sukuna giggles when he hears you laugh softly at the dog lick.

Slowly, he allowed himself to lift his weight off of you, heading down to kiss your neck, collarbone, then your tits, suckling your nipple while his other hand grips your other tit. Finally, he took his lips off of your skin and stood up to his full height.

You watched him through your hooded eyes in anticipation, the tip of your mouth collecting drool as he hooked his thumbs on his waistband, all the while two of his lower arms held your thighs open. As Sukuna tugged his pants down, your eyes widened as a pair of fat cocks sprung out and you reflexively tried to clamp your thighs shut, only to be met with his strong hands forcing your legs to open up more.

He smirked down at you cockily as you tried to squirm away from his grip. “What’s the matter, doll? Thought you’ll let me take care of you.”

“B-But… you have two?” you pouted, tears forming in your eyes, especially when Sukuna gave you a lazy shrug. “It won’t fit…” 

“Shhh, it will,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss just below your eye to wipe the tear away before grinning down at you. “Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head about it.”

Sukuna bit his lower lip as he tapped-tapped-tapped his cock against your clit, swivering the tip against your nub, mesmerised by how his precum and your juices mixed together, seeing how your pussy drooled and trailed down to the sleek surface of the table. Two of his hands stroked his thick shaft, and he snickered as he saw you eye the veins on his arms.

Swiping his thumb on his slit, Sukuna shoved the finger into your drooling mouth, chuckling as you smiled around him to suck his pre.

“Heh, gotta have you suck my dick off under this desk,” he groaned. “Make the judging hours good for me…”

You hummed around his thumb, nodding eagerly.

“Next time,” he chuckled. Holding his lower dick, he teasingly glided it up and down your pussy lips, from down to your hole to up to your cute clit. Sukuna gripped your thighs tightly, bracing himself before he slowly sunk into your tight hole. “…Fuck.”

His tip smooched your opening before squeezing into your pussy, your gooey walls clamping and squeezing him tightly, making his eyes roll to the back of his head and his mouth to part, panting.

“Ah— shit…” He pushed into your hole a little more, making you mewl and hands flying onto his shoulders, nails digging into his tough skin. A laugh rumbled out of him, crazed and hazy, as he started to rock his hips slowly. Every thrust pushed deeper into you, his thick veins massaging every nerve lovingly and his tip teasingly approaching closer to your cervix. His other two hands found your hip, his thumbs caressing your skin and fingers digging into your plush ass to pull you in, bottoming out.

A scream tore from you, the voice echoing and bouncing across the large hall, followed by the squelch-squelch of his balls slapping at the wetness of your skin.

“Ah, fuck-fuck-fugck—” Sukuna roughly slammed his hips against yours, growling with a boisterous laugh, watching your eyes roll back to your skull. “Feel good, yeah? You, agh, feel so good, doll. So, so good—”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you desperately pulled him closer, lips flushedly brushing against his chapped ones, panting against him, “Feels good, feels good, Sukuna. Don’t stop—!”

Bringing a hand down to your pussy, he stacked his other dick on top of your folds, pressing his girth on your clit. Your lips parted into a soft ‘oh’ as you felt his thick cock rub against your clit every time he thrusted his hips against your. Your nails raked down his back as you held onto him tightly, whining and moaning as you felt his weight crush on top of you from the mean mating press.

Sukuna tossed his head back, slapping his heavy balls against your ass as he roughly thrusted. Hooking your knees on his arms, he hugged you tightly, folding you impossibly tighter than it was possible before nuzzling his nose against your neck.

“Never fucked a pretty little dead ghost before, but… shitt, feels so good,” he rambled on, so so pussydrunk. “You’ll be my pretty girl, won’t you? Warm my bed for the night, we can bathe together in the night before we go to sleep. We’ll fuck every morning, lunch and night— heh, wonder if I can even knock you up…”

Sukuna felt your walls clench around his cock at that, making his cheeks flush bright pink, head dizzy and so fucking hazy. “You’ll like that, won’t you?”

You had the audacity to look shy at that after everything, cheeks prettily mirroring his blossoming hue, eyes darted away as you nodded bashfully. Sukuna felt his heart throb and race and without a thought, he pulled you against his chest and hauled you up. Kissing your cute yelp away with full on tongue and teeths, he had two of his hands cradle your face reverently then the other two to spread your legs more, holding you as he stood to his full height.

Now you truly couldn’t escape from the pleasure, because his fat tip was punishingly smacking your cervix, then that special spot that made your eyes roll and only see white, desperately gasping for air. 

Sukuna found it too adorable how you held onto him tightly, whining against his ear like an adorable little pup as he had you bounce on his chubby cock while his second one continued to rub against your clit roughly. You keened cried out when his belly tongue lolled out to lovingly lap at your clit around his cock as well.

“Hahh, I’m close, ‘kuna.”

“Then cum, sweetheart,” he moaned, picking up speed. “Cum on my cock.”

With a cry, you came undone, your body and pussy spasming around his cock. He settled you back on the cool mahogany table, weight crushing on top of you as he panted and kept pistoning into your pussy, chasing his high.

“Shit, shit, shit!"

With a loud grunt, he gave a final thrust, heaving in effort as he came inside, painting your walls in white.

"That was good,” he breathed heavily, peppering your jaw with kisses. He watched you with amusement lighting up in his eyes, seeing your eyes glazed over, staring up at the ceiling blankly, chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm, blissed out. “You good?”

You blinked then nodded absentmindedly.

Chuckling, he scooped you up to hold you against him as he sat back onto his large chair, running his large palm across your back.

He silently promised to himself that he would never have you escape him into heaven. No, you’re going to stay with him, true to his words for the rest of eternity. A cute little dead ghost warming his bed.

Yeah, that sound better than heaven.

taglist (open)! @daflex, @moonlightbunnies, @brightbriefs

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.

These were intense times. 

The Michigan Wolverines were right in the midst of the NCAA College Football Playoffs, and it has been weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps for the team of 100-odd men–all in preparation for a chance at being the nation’s top seed. 

There was much on the line, especially seeing that Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, was aiming to secure his spot in the upcoming NFL draft. 

As such, his pre-game ritual (one that he has refined and perfected over the course of four years) was a strict routine backed by, and rooted down in, evidence-based science and partially unbiased statistical analyses. 

It all starts with his protein shake: two whole bananas, one cup of oats, a shit ton of peanut butter, one spoon of raw honey, four scoops of protein powder, and full-fat milk. 

Next, his attire. He needed his signature gray game-day sweats (unwashed for the past 10-games in a row), a muscle tank he’s owned and stretched out since high school, and his most industrial-grade, noise-cancelling headphones. 

As for schedule? He needed thirty minutes of privacy, unrestricted and uninterrupted access to high speed internet, and most importantly of all: he needed to watch at least two of “stargiirl_xx”’s videos prior to heading out onto the turf. 

Give him that, and he was bound to have a fuckin’ phenomenal performance on the field. 

His meaty hand was already squeezing his growing erection through his sweats, the thick outline of his cock visible against the backlight from stargiirl’s newest video loading up on his laptop screen, and his protein shake already half finished by his bedside table. 

He wasn’t just a fan. He was her #1 biggest financer. 

Though she never showed her face, he had come to memorize the curve of stargiirl’s thighs and the moles on her hips over the course of the years. He knew her room layout by heart, and diligently watched the animes that she kept posters of on her walls. 

She was the best of the best. Not showy, not performative, just purely indulging herself. 

And sure, if keeping her active meant donating a sizable portion of his D1 stipend to fund her… pursuits, well, then call him a patron of the arts. 

His dick shamelessly pulsed in his pants as the page finally stopped buffering and the title of the video loaded. 

“Lessons in Vibrations Pt I”. 

Part one?!

He knew almost immediately that tonight’s game would be a fantastic one. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their first round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 41-20. 

And Toji Fushiguro? Well, he was the star of the show, of course. He completed more than 85% of his passes (with six of them leading to touchdowns) and led an 80-yard rush all in a single game. He was on fire: skin buzzing with adrenaline, cool sweat dripping down his face, and his large canines glinting under the fierce stadium lights as the deafening crowds roared his name. 

“To-ji! To-ji! To-ji!”

He felt indomitable, floating on a high all the way from the stadium, to the bus, to the afterparty. 

But in the lecture hall? Well… 

His grades were barely passing for the majority of his classes, and in fact they were quite below when it came to Applied Chemical Kinetics II. 

He was truly a lost cause. 

He had missed countless of Yaga’s lectures throughout the course of the semester, promising himself that he would catch up on the review notes (he didn’t) and trying to watch the recorded lectures on the bus rides to any of the away games (he never). 

So really, it came as no surprise to anyone when he absolutely tanked his midterms those six long weeks ago. 

At the time, he was desperate. Failing class meant getting booted off the team. He needed someone who could easily cover his sorry ass for the rest of the semester, and fast. 

Therefore, the obvious choices for a final project partner were between Ijichi and, well, you. 

And, seeing as Toji Fushiguro had a pair of functioning fuckin’ eyes and a brain that lived partly in his pants, he chose the latter. 

It wasn’t easy persuading you to take him on for the project, which was something he honestly didn’t quite expect (nor was he used to). You were stoic to his ill-attempted flattery and unaffected by his usual charm. Every smile he flashed at you seemed to wither upon arrival, and every playful remark was met with nothing more than an empty stare.

In the end, desperation drove him somewhere pride never would’ve allowed before: straight into his football stipend.

“Listen. I’ll give you $300 if you can help me pass this class.”

It was the Wednesday before the Thanksgiving break, and he remembered how his words rang loud and heavy in the dusty air of the old lecture hall. Everyone had left at this point, the class long-since over.

You had stood before him unmoved, your books hugged to your chest and your normally impassive gaze slowly piquing in interest.

He remembered how you looked up at him through your lashes, and the way you tilted your head almost cutely. “Make it $400,” you said it softly, yet with little hesitation.

He remembered how he felt himself gulp, not from the number, but at the way your eyes were scanning his face like it was the first time you even noticed him. 

His hand had gripped the strap of his backpack just a little tighter. 

Though, you didn’t seem to notice as you continued. “I’ll meet you on Mondays and Thursdays only, I work every other day. And I want half as security in advance.”

You pulled out your phone, swiftly punching in your password before holding it out to him, the contacts app already open on the screen. 

For the first time in all of his college experience, he was genuinely caught off guard.

What the fuck? 

He took your phone. 

“$400?” he repeated, huffing faintly under his breath (was he amused? Annoyed? Aroused? He couldn’t tell at the time, nor does he know now) as he typed in his number. His large hands looked almost comical holding your small device. “You rob everybody like this, or am I just that special?”

He handed your phone back, his calloused fingers gently grazing your warm ones. 

“You’re failing chem,” you replied flatly. “You are not special.”

He hated how his dick twitched at your words.

But most of all, he hated how he didn’t know what to say in response.

He was the star quarterback, captain of the football team, most popular guy on campus and an undeniable chick-magnet, for god’s sake! 

His silence surprised the both of you, and you took it as your queue to leave. “See you later,” you glanced down at your phone, looking at his contact. “Fushiguro.”

You didn’t even know his fuckin’ name?!

And with that, you gently breezed past him, only offering him a small nod as you walked out of the room. The scent of your shampoo faintly caught in his nose as he tried to will his boner to stop growing in his sweats.   

After that, the break passed uneventfully, and by the time campus filled back up again and the chill of early winter settled in, your project was impossible to ignore.

He kept to his word of paying you the $200 in advance.

You kept to yours by meeting him that following Monday. 

The two of you developed a routine during the second half of the semester, meeting in libraries and cafes to review material and project timelines for the final submission. 

And during those couple of hours on the Mondays and Thursdays that he had you, he came to the haunting realization that you were so… chill. 

He was blunt, but you were blunt back. You flicked him when his head got too large, and he flicked you whenever you were too stuck in yours. He shoved you out of your shell at times, while you pulled him back down to Earth. It was rare, and so fuckin’ odd, this kind of dynamic between the two of you, the kind that goes unnoticed until suddenly you realize it’s there.

Soon, he would find himself calling your name from across the quad, and you would nod with what looked like a smile at him when you passed his row in lecture. He gave you tickets to his games (which you would resell for 200% of its value), and put your name on the list for the Kappa parties despite you never showing up. You sent him stupid instagram posts, and brought him homemade coffees whenever the two of you met post-game days. 

And thankfully for Toji, today was one of those days. 

“How’d it go?” Your voice was like honey and wine, low and smooth, as you looked up at him from behind your computer. The light from your screen illuminated halos in your eyes, and the steam from his opened thermos curled languidly in the air between you both. 

You sat across from him in a quiet, off-campus cafe. 

He grinned, smug and wolfish and borderline sleazy, as if he’d been just waiting for you to ask. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his overwhelmingly large, muscular arms over his head. He made a point to subtly flex his biceps while under your scrutiny. His shirt lifted slightly above his abdomen, and you blinked your eyes to focus on the scar on his tanned face, rather than the dark happy trail that ran down, down, down to his…

“Perfect game. You’d know if you actually came ‘round ‘n watched.” He playfully winked, his deep chuckle echoing as you gave him a deadpan stare. 

“I’m quite alright, Fushiguro.” He pouted in mock defeat as you looked back down at your screen. The battery symbol on your laptop flashed red in warning: low power. 

You’d only been there for thirty minutes and you could’ve sworn you charged the damn thing last night. Sure, your outlets were kind of fucked, and sure this was a twelve year old laptop with a battery life the size of a peanut, but surely it wouldn’t give out on you this early in the day?!

You exhaled a long breath. The thought of putting money down for a new computer made your heart physically ache. 

The two of you (mainly you) had just started to make headway with the report (“flow state”, as Toji would call it), and you knew you wouldn’t have a chance to work on the project again until after your Wednesday shift. “You got a charger on you?” 

He scoffed, almost offendedly. “Wanna try askin’ that again sweetheart?” He tsked you lightly. 

You rolled your eyes, a heavy sigh tumbling out of your soft lips. 

“Forget it. I know you don’t,” there was something prickly beneath your uncaring tone, and he curiously paused to examine you. 

He could see the faint circles under your eyes that you tried to cover with concealer, the way your shoulders sagged slightly from the weight of your backpack as you lifted it from the seat beside you, and the brief glimpse of all the mini bookmarks sticking out of your planner as you dropped it inside the bag. 

“I guess we’ll have to call it here then. I’d need to go back to my apartment and grab my charger to do anything else.”

And, perhaps it was because the two of you had formed this unexpected bond over the past several weeks, something deep and quiet and far more important than Toji would ever willingly name, that the weight of being the weakest link finally made Toji Fushiguro feel the heavy hammer of guilt bury deep within his hardened chest. 

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, holding up his hand. 

“Or…” the words were slow to move out of his mouth, embarrassment thickening in his throat. “Why don’t we work there?” You stared at him, almost startled, as if he’d grown another head. His ears warmed under the intensity of your gaze as he continued. “I still got power, I can keep goin’ if you’re down.” 

His triceps flexed as he scratched the back of his neck, tan skin pulling taut as he looked away. 

“It’s a small place,” you warned. 

He shrugged, his voice catching in his throat at the way you were holding his gaze. “I don’t mind. I’d go any place you choose.”

He paused, his eyes widening slightly at the words that tumbled out of his mouth, as if he didn’t realize what he said until after he said them. 

You breathed, and a beat passed before a small, pretty smile pulled across your features – the first he’s ever gotten from you like this. And this time, your tired eyes warmed into something soft, something akin to appreciation, something new.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, then I’d like that.” You tilted your head slightly, and his heart thumped oddly loud in his muscular chest. “Thank you, Toji.”

For just the briefest of moments, you looked at him as if he had just offered the world. 

All he could do was swallow and nod. 

He didn’t even realize you called him by his first name until you were both out the door. 

The walk to your apartment was comfortably silent. Despite Toji’s taller stature and athletic build, he wordlessly matched your slower pace, walking between you and the road. 

Your apartment was situated right on the outskirts of campus; too close to drive, but too cumbersome to walk. He quietly marveled at your resolution to go in person to class every day, especially when he had difficulty hauling his ass to the lecture hall that was just a block over from frat row. 

The taller man was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even realize how close he was standing to you as you both paused at your front doorstep. His towering frame loomed over you, and he could feel the heat of your body as you dug through your bag, and he could see the goosebumps that rose on your neck when your arm accidentally grazed against his abdomen. 

Your keys softly clinked! together as you unlocked the front door.

And, there was something faintly intimate about being led up the creaky wooden steps to your 3rd floor apartment, your hips gently swaying in his face with each ascent up, and your soft hands lightly tracing the railing in your wake.

He intrusively thought about reaching out to touch your fingers, to run his hand along the curve of your waist–

He coughed lightly.

What was he thinking?

As you opened your apartment’s door, he was immediately hit with the light smell of lemon and jasmine. 

Your place was small but tidy; a one-bedroom attic apartment where the kitchen and living area blurred together, soaking in the same sunlit space. Despite its size, it carried your mark: two types of server aprons hung on the coat rack, a soft crocheted throw blanket you made draped over the worn couch, and a set of reading glasses laying beside a hand-painted mug on your round window table.

It was cute; homely. A small glimpse into your life outside of class.

“You can start getting set up in here, I’ll just grab my charger from my room.” You spoke quietly as you led him to the table. 

You silently turned before he could respond, padding across the old wooden floors to the door that was directly across from where he had set his bag down. 

He had only just started typing his password into his computer when he lazily looked up, his dark eyes catching the movement from your room. 

And, holy shit. 

No. 

There was genuinely no way in hell. 

He was scrambling up out of your wobbly kitchen chair before his mind could even register it. 

His body felt as if it were moving through water, and his brain felt like jam. Was that his own blood roaring past his ears or his soul escaping his body? 

Cool beads of sweat began to form on his neck, tickling at the ends of his dark, grungy hair. He had crossed the width of your apartment in three long strides, until suddenly he was at your doorframe, his large body leaning against it like it was a lifeline, and his scarred mouth parted into the dumbest looking “o”.

His wild eyes scanned your room fervently. The walls, the Cowboy Bebop poster by your bedframe, the pale linen sheets, the empty vase on your bedside table and the stack of yellowing paper backs in the corner of it. 

Everything looked familiar.

Scratch that. Everything looked the same. The same as–

“Can I help you?” 

You were on all fours. All fuckin’ fours. 

You tilted your head up to face him, taking a pause from wiggling the stubborn plug out of the ancient socket underneath your desk.

And… could you? Can you? He was at a genuine loss for words. 

All he could do was stare dumbly, his large fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and his body emanating a heat that he prayed to god wasn’t visible from where you were.

“Uh. Y-you got a bathroom up here??” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

He scoured through every single video and rewatched every single clip that night.

The furniture, the decor, the walls, the window placement: everything was the same.

And so, the verdict was in: you–his quiet, guarded, asocial, and steely chem partner–were none other than stargiirl herself. 

What. The. Fuck. 

It was confusing to wrap his head around, this whole stargiirl-chemgirl business. But would he go as far to say that it wasn’t attractive? That he didn’t pop a boner every time he thought about it? 

No. He couldn’t. He’d never.

Was this divine intervention or his own personal hell? 

He couldn’t tell.

What does this mean? How should he act?  What does he fucking do with this information now?

He rubbed his temples before running a tense hand through his hair. At the same time, a notification popped up on his computer. 

“Check out a new post from stargiirl_xx !”

He could feel the blood in his veins thumping against his skin. 

“Don’t do it. Please don’t fucking do it-” he mumbled. 

He tapped into the link despite himself. 

“Lessons In Vibration Pt II”

He wordlessly clicked the play button on the video. 

For a moment, he thought his screen was buffering. The camera was set up to look out onto your bed, though you were not in frame yet, presumably twiddling with the settings of your camera. 

But when you finally did walk into view, his heart nearly imploded. 

The frame only showed you from the mouth down, your identity mainly concealed. You were bottomless, bare legs walking across the floor as you situated yourself on your bed. The only piece of clothing you did have on was an overlarge sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, one that he, in his panicked daze to get out of your apartment earlier, forgot he had left behind. 

He didn’t dare breathe, nor could he move. His head was craned so close to his computer, as if he wanted to go through the screen itself just to get a better look. 

He noted how his hoodie fell past your ass, large and consuming and honestly? So fuckin’ perfect on you.

You were nearing the end of your normal introduction, and he realized you spoke differently on video, low and confident and sensual and hypnotic.

“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about my content throughout the years,” your hands started to draaag the bottom of his hoodie up, letting it bunch just slightly above the dip of your waist, enunciating your curves. “-And I’ve realized I’ve never had a partner during any of them.”

The comments on the side bar started to flood through, hundreds of viewers already volunteering themselves to be your +1. 

His jaw ticked, hard.

“I think,” you leaned forward like you were sharing a secret. Toji gripped onto his computer until a faint pop! could be heard of one of the inner screws coming loose. “I think I would like to change that in the future,” and then you smiled, really smiled, a full, playful grin wiping across your features in a way he had never been able to see in person before. 

His dick bobbed in his pants. 

This could not be happening to him right now. 

You continued, “but for now, welcome back to my Lessons in Vibrations series.”

He watched as you started introducing the toys you would be using today, before you slowly began to touch yourself, teasingly showing glimpses of the purple lace panties you had on underneath his hoodie. 

And he couldn’t help it, really. 

Because when you started rubbing your vibrator against your clit, your deft fingers plunging skillfully into your cunt, soft whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy started squelching out a fucking melody – all while wearing his fuckin’ sweatshirt – what the fuck else was he supposed to do?

His sweats were already halfway down his thighs, and his meaty hand greedily pumping his own cock in sync to you fucking yourself on your fingers. 

He watched hungrily as you pushed his sweatshirt up further along your body, exposing your stomach, teasing the view of your bare tits. He bit back a groan at the thought of your scent lingering in the fabric, and prayed to whatever deity above that you wouldn’t wash it out before he got it back. 

Below, your fingers languidly teased the head of your vibrator against your entrance. It was the insertable kind, with a slender tip and curved body, the type that had your hole trying to suck up the device with every rub against your dripping slit. 

He could feel the veins in his cock pulsing hotly in anticipation, pushing up thick pearls of precum out onto his flared tip. 

He wondered what it would be like to slip his shaft against your drenched pussy lips, to massage the underside of his cockhead against the tight ring of your entrance, to feel you squeezing around him, and to hear the sounds you would make just for him. 

He gulped, cool sweat starting to form on his brow. You were beginning to fuck the device into you, pumping the vibrator in and out and in and out. He could see your legs trembling, your juices starting to  uncontrollably splash outside of you, and your pussylips fluttering with every bzzz bzz bzzzzzt of the vibrator fucking and swirling and massaging into your g-spot. 

He was matching your pace, furiously pumping his dick, thinking about how you looked on all fours earlier, thinking about how you smiled when you called him his name, thinking about how you look when you concentrate and the mole above your brow, thinking about the coffee you made for him and the weird shitposts you sent and the way you could look at him like he was nothing, and everything, all at the same time.

And suddenly, he wasn’t climaxing to the stargiirl he had always seen on screen.

It was his tough, quiet, calm chem partner. 

And as he shot hot spurts of thick, ropey cum all the way from his dick to his chin (the most he’s ever released before), he realized only one thing. 

He just finished to the thought of you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Toji Fushiguro had a problem. 

No, scratch that. 

He had a fucking crisis. 

It was drill day, and his head was absolutely nowhere near the turf. He fumbled balls, missed targets, and was a full thirty-seconds under his usual sprint times. 

And that was only how one of his practices went this week. 

It had been five whole days since he last saw you. 

Five days of being dogshit at his sport. 

Five days of holing up in his frat, avoiding campus, avoiding class, avoiding your texts, avoiding you.

It’s not like he wanted to do this, but he didn’t know what to do, how to act, or what to even say. 

How could he talk to you casually while knowing he’s given probably a third of his checks to you? How could he be normal in your presence knowing that he’s watched every single one of your streams, and in turn has finished an embarrassing amount of times to each of them?

How could he trust himself when the thought of you alone had his heart pounding so hard his ears hurt? Or how his chest squeezed so tight he almost went to urgent care, just because you texted asking where he’s been and if he was okay? 

How could he face you, knowing that he somehow developed the largest, fattest, most egregious fuckin’ crush on you?!

And, for the record, Toji Fushiguro did not do crushes. He hadn’t necessarily “ran through” the entire roster of available chicks on campus, but he did have an occasional fling, nothing serious, nothing long, nothing that would distract him from football and his dreams.

He was known as the campus heartthrob and heartbreaker. He was Mr. Non-Chalant, Mr. Everybody-Wants-A-Piece-of-Him, and Mr. I-Don’t-Get-Attached all wrapped up in one 6’4, 230 lbs body. 

A crush? That was new, unexplored territory for him. 

He stared down at your last texts to him.

⭐️(Thursday, 12:03pm): i got us a nice spot!! im sitting on 2nd floor @ clark  ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:18pm): knock knock, is mr. toji theree 

Ba-dump! Ba-dump!

⭐️(Thursday, 12:56pm): hey, is everythin ok? r we still on for today?

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

⭐️(Saturday, 10:01am): r u alive

It physically sickened him that he couldn’t get his cowardly fingers to just fucking write back. But every time he opened up your text chain, all he could do was stare. 

Which is exactly why he couldn’t see you yet. 

He needed time. 

He needed space. 

He needed to get this shit under control.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for him, the Kappa Epsilon fraternity was throwing a rager tonight. With the group of men only one week out from the next bracket of playoffs, this would be the last night the football frat would get to drink together for a while if they were to make it to the finals. 

It would be the perfect distraction. 

About an hour or so into the party and he was buzzed. He absolutely demolished that shithead Ryomen in beer pong, crushed a pack of PBRs, and now was cooling off in the kitchen, his body feeling swimmy and light. 

He reached for his phone. Maybe, just maybe, if he looked at your messages again for the umpteenth time today, maybe he would know what to say, maybe he–

“Ah, so you can come out and party but ignore all of my texts?”

His heart did that stupid thing where it pounded so hard against his chest he wondered if his ribs bruised. 

Despite the booming of the bass coming from the room over, and the idle chatter of randoms idling in the kitchen, he could hear the dry, unimpressed, and entirely too familiar voice coming directly from behind him. 

He turned, his eyes lowering to find you, as if it was muscle memory, as if it was his second nature. 

You never showed up to these parties (and trust, he has invited you to them all). Yet here you were, your body leaned up against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest, and your hair falling around your frame. 

He grinned, the buzz in his head making it easy for a stupidly cheeky and wide and boyish smile to plaster onto his face. (a/n: toji has a hung smile. Okay? Okay.). 

“Hey, party animal,” he said, almost dreamily. 

The top you wore clung to you like a second skin, accentuating the swells of your breasts and the dip of your waist: features that you usually hid underneath your normal, bulkier campus-attire. 

He was indecisive, his eyes bouncing between the unreadable look on your face to the sliver of exposed skin right above your miniskirt. 

You looked good, really fuckin’ good. 

Your eyes widened, before your cheeks blushed the prettiest shade of red, your manicured fingers tightening around the plastic solo cup you were holding

Did he say that outloud?!

You straightened, steeling yourself, willing the warmth in your cheeks to go away. “You’ve ignored me for five days, Fushiguro-” your voice was firm and cool, cutting sharply through the noise of the party.

Back to the last name basis. 

You looked away, before adding, “-and you ditched me on Thursday.” You spoke that last part softly, deliberately, a look of sadness flashing briefly in your pretty, doe-like eyes. 

A dull pang rippled through his chest. 

He knew the implications of your words – the two of you never missed a meetup since this whole “deal” started. 

And, like those days in the libraries or cafes where he found himself sitting before you, following your every word and direction, he now found himself moving towards you, a small pout forming on his scarred lips, as his strong arms caged you in until you were wedged between himself and the counter. 

And, you knew he was huge before. 

But now, up close, you realized just how large he was - his broad shoulders obscuring your view, his muscular chest rippling under the tight black shirt he wore, and his huge hands riddled with veins that climbed up, up, up his forearms. 

He was overwhelming and all-consuming, surrounding your senses with the kind of intensity only he alone could pull off. You breathed in, your chest rising, fighting against the cotton of your ill-fitting top. He smelled of fresh pine and warm leather, clean and raw and manly. 

You came here pissed, but now found your resolve completely fogged and muddled. 

He leaned forward, dipping his head low, until his shaggy fringe tickled softly against the shell of your ear. 

You knew he had been drinking, but the question was, did he know what he was doing right now? Was this purposeful? Was this real? You couldn’t quite tell, but the way his breath stuttered as his nose traced light patterns into your neck, the way he was breathing you in, and the way his hands periodically clenched onto the countertop as if to restrain himself, told you he was at least semi aware of what he was doing. 

Your heart was hammering in your chest. The two of you never stood this close before, let alone touched each other. 

You turned your head slightly, trying to put at least some ounce of space between your face and his.

But for him? That just would not do. 

He slowly pulled away from your neck, his nose lightly mapping a path from the base of your neck, across the soft expanse of your cheek, to the tip of your own. Noses brushing, breaths mingling, chests heaving, and hearts pounding as his scarred lips hovered your glossed ones. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” 

The air between you was warm and thick, charged with something tender and so deeply intimate. 

“Because you scare me,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, really?” Your mouth twitched. 

“Mm.” He nodded once, nose rubbing softly against yours in an eskimo kiss. You could see how his eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, lips dangerously close to pressing against yours.

“‘Think ya cursed me.” His neck flushed red, his low voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I can go-”

“Don’t.”

And then his large hands were latching onto your waist, the heat of his skin searing through the thin material of your skirt. 

“Don’t. Don’tDon’tDon’t.” His brows scrunched together, his face becoming serious. “Don’t go. Don’t leave. Not when you’re here, with me, pretty girl.” 

You breathed, taking your time to steady your voice after hearing the pet name roll off his tongue. “Then what should I do?”

“Stay.”

It was as simple as that, really. 

And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft and commanding. He kissed you like you were sin, drinking you in, savoring you on his tongue, before inevitably, always inevitably, going back for more. He didn’t let you breathe; he wouldn’t. He was greedy and wrong and possessive, claiming your mouth like it was his alone to conquer. Your knees weakened as his tongue massaged against yours addictively, molding against you like you were made for him; like he was made for you. 

Your hands moved before you could think, before you could decide if you were angry with him or if you hungered for him. You found purchase on his broad shoulders, before making your way up, up, up to his neck, one hand running through his dark hair while the other held onto the underside of his strong jaw, thumb gently caressing the scar on the side of his mouth, pulling him in.

He pressed into you further, your ass hitting the lower counter. His body was flush against yours, his chest purposefully rubbing against your tits. 

He could feel your nipples hardening through the flimsy cotton of your top, and he couldn’t stop the sleazy grin that was forming on his face. 

Below, his grip on you was gentle but firm, bringing your body to press and grind against his in an unhurried, languid way, like he had all the time in the world, like all of this was fated from the start. 

And his fingers, oh his fingers, which spanned across your hip, slowly found their way to your ass, gripping and cupping and kneading into the soft, jiggly flesh. 

You could feel something move against your thigh, something sturdy and heavy and completely fucking monstruous. 

“Haah-” you shakily sighed out, breathy and dazed as you looked down to the outline of his bulge. Your eyes widened. 

“I like when you use that smart mouth, y’know,” he was talking against your lips, not able to find it in himself to pull away. His hand slid up the side of your waist, until he stopped right underneath your breast, his thumb rubbing against the underside of where it started to swell. 

His voice dropped an octave lower, whispering to you like it was a secret. “Talk to me. Break this curse. Tell me it’s not just me that feels like this.” 

Please.

His heart was racing. He was stone cold sober. This was it. This was his admission. 

ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump–

You breathed. 

The party raged on in the background, muddled and distant, like his ears were submerged under water–

“It’s not just you, Toji.” 

Your voice was quiet, your cheeks tinted rouge, your pretty eyes looking up at him in earnest. 

And that was all he needed. 

He picked you up like you were nothing (his bench was 350 lbs, squat 600 lbs, and his hip thrusts? don’t even worry ‘bout it), a smug, victorious grin tugging at his scarred lips.

He carried you out of the kitchen, and a steady stream of wolf whistles and howls erupted from his frat brothers and party goers as the two of you made your way across the foyer, up the stairs, and towards a bedroom. His bedroom. 

He carried you inside, keeping the lights off, letting the warm glow of the streetlamp beside his window spill softly across the room. Without a word, he set you down on his large king-sized bed.

The air in his room was tender and still. You could hear the faint bass of the stereo downstairs, vibrating against his wooden floors like a heartbeat. The distant cheers of the crowd down below faded to quiet as he pressed his mouth to your own. 

He leisurely climbed over you, never breaking the kiss, his muscular arms holding his body above your own. 

It didn’t take long for the makeout to turn heated again, teeth clashing against teeth, bodies pressed against each other, rubbing and teasing in a way that had your head spinning.

You put your hands against his chest. 

“Toji-”

“Stay,” he breathed, whispering the words against your lips, like he could read your mind. “-Stay with me tonight,” he pressed his body closer into you, rutting his hips, “and lemme show you the things I’ve been wantin’ to say to you all week.”

You could feel his cock twitch ominously against your bare thigh as you swallowed. 

His lips were swollen and glistening from your mixed salivas, his eyes glazed over, jade irises almost completely black. His grip on your lower body was unrelenting, holding you in place. 

You lightly pushed your hand against his chest, a hesitant look crossing your features.

A beat passed. For a second, he didn’t even realize he stopped breathing. 

“You’ve been drinking,” You paused, your voice coming out small. “What if.. what if you don’t mean this in the morning?” 

And for all your expertise and genius, oh, how completely wrong you could be.

He let out a humorless chuckle, his sharp canines peaking through his lips in the process. 

“Did it sound like I was jokin’, sweetheart?” He shakily exhaled through his nose as he pressed his erection against your clothed cunt, holding himself there, letting you feel the pressure and full weight of what he was packing. “Does it feel like I’m jokin’ ‘bout this?” 

You bit your lip, pussy throbbing, a warm slickness starting to soak through your panties, before messily spreading between your clenched thighs. 

You shook your head. 

“What’d I say about usin’ your words?”

He pulsed his dick, the sensation making your pussy clench. 

Fuckin’ tease. 

“Nngh- no. No it doesn’t feel like you’re joking,” you almost gasp out. 

A satisfied smirk plastered onto his tanned face.

“Good girl.” 

And then he’s moving down the bed, his calloused hands spreading your legs as he pressed wet kisses against the hot skin of your thighs. He was methodical and slow, making his way up your inner thigh, savoring the small sounds that you tried to suppress as he reached the bottom hem of your skirt, his face mere inches away from your sopping pussy, and his breath puffing warm air against your dampened panties . 

“Ohhh jus’ look at ya,” you could tell he had the most shit-eating grin on his face right now, pride swelling in his voice as he carefully dipped a large, rough finger between the seam of the thin purple fabric you adorned. “This all f’me?”

And - Holy shit.

The videos of you didn’t even do this justice. 

Because low and behold, here you were, under his body, and you were so fuckin’ wet. His finger slid against your folds with little resistance, putting just enough pressure that you couldn’t help but moan his name as he rubbed circles against your clit.

And, Toji Fushiguro never claimed to be a patient man. So, it should’ve came as no surprise when he grabbed your hips and used his hulking strength to push your clothed pussy to his scarred lips, his face nuzzled to your cunt, nose pressed firmly to your clit, and his greedy tongue lapping you up through the soiled fabric. 

It was obscene and perverse and dirty and wrong. 

But oh, how he loved it. Loved the heady taste you left on your panties, and the sweet scent of your gushing pussy, and the excess slick on your thighs that made its way onto his rough cheeks. 

He groaned, a low, guttural sound against your skin that made your tummy squeeze into knots. 

“T-Toji, please,” you whined, pressing your greedy cunt into his face, “need your tongue. Need you. Need more.” You could hardly string a true sentence together, and he hadn’t even fucked you proper yet. 

His heart was thunderous against his chest. 

And his dick? 

Hardest it’s ever fuckin’ been in his fuckin’ life.

He was grinding his erection against the mattress as he obliged your wishes.

After all, how could he say no to you? 

He pushed your panties to the side. 

And oh. 

His balls tightened below him, the urge to cum almost threateningly near as he stared at your bare, swollen pussy. 

Holy. Shit.

Everything was soaked and glistening. 

He rubbed one thumb across your puffy skin, his coarse finger getting soaked in the process. 

He leaned in, gingerly licking fat stripes along your folds, lapping you up, drinking you in. He worked thoroughly, gathering you onto his tongue, until the lower part of his face was a mixture of your juices and his drool. 

It was only after he was satisfied with his work did he make his way to your clit, humming and sucking, the wet sounds of his mouth making out with your cunt filling the air of his room. 

The warm pleasure of it all was beginning to pool in your belly, your toes beginning to curl, legs beginning to shake – but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. 

“Toji, I might-” 

He plunged a rough, thick finger inside you, spearing your tight velvet walls apart, all the way up to his knuckle. 

You saw fuckin’ stars.

The sound you made was so erotic, so loud and depraved and raw, that his dick lurched in his pants, warm gooey pre-cum beginning to leak out from his throbbing tip and into his briefs. 

He wanted to hear you again, and again and again and again. 

He wanted videos, home movies, and spotify playlists of the way your pussy was talking to him. 

Emboldened, his tongue was unrelenting on your clit, as one finger became two, and then two became three. 

You mewled as he crooked them up, massaging against that soft, spongey bundle of nerves that had you panting his name out like it was prayer. 

Your ears were ringing, your eyes beginning to get wet with tears. 

Soon, he was fucking you on his fingers proper, setting a debilitating pace as he plunged his digits in and out and in and out. Filling you up, stretching you out, hitting your most sensitive areas. Again, and again, and again.

The pressure in your core was reaching its limits now, and the pleasure from the sheer fullness of your pussy and the sinful patterns of his tongue were beginning to send violent tremors down your legs. 

You were orgasming before you even realized it.

And yet, he was didn’t stop – didn’t even give you time to breathe as he’s diving into your pussy, slurping you up, his large nose rubbing against your over-sensitive clit as he’s fucking his thick tongue and his fingers past the tight ring of your entrance, fucking you, warm and wet, through each of your peaks. 

Your hands held onto his hair like a lifeline, your fleshy thighs locked around his head as if to keep him in place. 

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he moaned, his eyes glazed over, completely and utterly pussy drunk, as you looked down at him, his mouth still latched onto your cunt. 

You could see your slick dripping down his face, mixing with the light trails of perspiration that sprouted from his temples. 

Your heart squeezed in your chest. 

It was only after the last few waves of your orgasm subsided when you could finally respond. 

“I think,” you gently reached down to run your shaky hand through his scalp, tenderly pushing away the sweaty fringe by his eyes. “I think I can think of something that might taste better.” 

And then you’re pushing him until he’s moving to the top of the bed, his back resting against the headboard as he pulls his black shirt up and over his head, triceps flexing, exposing his muscular pecs, washboard abs, and the light tufts of hair that sprouted on his chest, and got increasingly darker the further down his abs it went. 

You could feel your pussy walls clamp down, warmth pooling in your core again as you reached out instinctively to run your hands along the length of his torso. 

You never thought, in all of your wildest dreams, that this would be happening. Nor could your dreams do justice to the perfect build of the man before you.

“Well look at you, Mr. Fushiguro.” Your soft hands slowly sliding up, up, up against his skin, all the way from where the dark tufts of thick hair started to disappear under his pants, and towards his pecs, feeling the way his traitorous heart stuttered as you called his name. “Aren’t you quite the heartbreaker.”

You held his gaze, the air around you charged with anticipation.

Who would move first?

His breathing was shallow as he stared at you, your cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. Your top was rumpled to hell, exposing the line of your cleavage in a way that had his pants tenting painfully, and your mini skirt was so far scrunched that it looked like a belt around your waist. 

“For others, sure…” He grabbed your hands, pressing them deeper into his skin as he slid them up to cup his face. “But for you?” he was whispering now, his ears growing steadily pinker by the second, “I’m afraid you have me beat.” 

Oh. 

And then you’re leaning in, tenderly pressing your lips to his own, mumbling his name over and over again to stop you from saying those other three little words, before sealing it with your tongue. 

And then he’s pulling you into his lap. 

You could taste yourself in his mouth and on his lips, your nipples tightening as his large hands grabbed handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart before making them clap together again. 

A muffled groan escaped from the depths of his chest, vibrating against your mouth, as he felt new gushes of your slick begin to dampen the front of his pants.

“Mmmnh- get comfortable, pretty girl.” He slurred out as he pulled at the waistband of your skirt, before letting go, allowing the material to slap against your skin with a light sting. 

“Hmm… only if daddy gets comfortable too.” your eyes were big as you stared at him through your lashes.  

And oh fuck.

Toji had to lean his head back, his skull hitting against the wall with a dull thud! 

The way the words left your mouth had him breathless, brain short-circuiting, and dick throbbing. He needed to recuperate. Calm down.

Breathe in. Exhale. Repeat. 

You smiled slyly, completely aware of how your words affected him, as you pulled your flimsy top off, followed by your bottomwear. Your tits were heavy and full as they were released from the cotton, nipples peaked and stiff. 

You were bare before him, your arms on either side of his hips, squeezing your tits together lightly as you bent low to whisper against his ear. 

“You like when I call you that?” Your voice was sweet as honey as your hands traced the large outline of his dick through his pants, gripping his shaft through the tight material, and feeling the monstrous size of his girth. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” his voice was a mixture of restraint and warning, “don’t start callin’ me that unless y’er tryna see it through.” His neck was visibly tense, and his hands clutched on to the meat of your hips as he stared at you. 

Pretty girl. 

He squeezed tighter.

His pretty girl. 

A moment of silence passed as you considered his words. “And what if I do wanna see it through…?” Your head tilted cutely while your mean hands found their way to his happy trail, running your nails down through the thick tufts of dark hair, dipping juuust below the waistband of his pants, before retreating back up again in slow, agonizing loops. “Show me your worst, daddy.”

And who was he to deny you? 

Before you knew it, he had his pants and briefs shoved down his legs, his massive cock heavily thudding against his washboard abs

Your mouth gaped open.

And ohhh how he relished the dumb look on your lil’ cute face.  

You didn’t even think anyone could be this large. 

Yet here he was, with a dick that looked like it belonged in a porno, pulsing fat and heavy and huge as he leaked pre-cum all over the angry mushroomed head. 

He smirked, cocky as ever, as you subconsciously licked your lips, eyes glazed over, cock drunk just off the look alone.

Your pussy gushed warm, new slick between your legs as you carefully leant down, your hands grabbing around his base, slowly bringing his dick closer to your face.

He could feel the warm puffs of air coming from ur plush lips, his dick twitching like crazy at how close you were to finally, finally getting your mouth on him. 

You pressed a gentle kiss to his leaking slit, before running your lips over the excess pre-cum, painting your lips with the milky substance.

He swallowed hard. His eyes were wild and his breathing ragged.

He groped your tits, rolling your stiff nipples in his calloused fingers, eliciting the sweetest moan from you that reverberated around his dick.

You gave him small kitten licks at first, teasing the idea, before gradually licking thick fat stripes up and down the length of his huge dick. You traced the pulsing veins that climbed up his hot shaft and licked around the sensitive underside of his throbbing cockhead. 

And it was only when his chest was heaving, his impatient hands gripping onto your skull, did you finally, finally begin to throat fuck the shit outta him. 

None of the videos he had watched of you before even came close to the sensation of seeing the bulge forming in your throat from where his cock was buried inside of you, or the way your nose tickled against the tufts of dark hair at the base of his cock. 

You moaned dreamily around him at the feeling of his heavy dick pounding against the back of your throat, filling your mouth and overwhelming your senses. You couldn’t help the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you bobbed him in your mouth, hands jerking off what you couldn’t reach, and your thighs rubbing together greedily, craving any ounce of friction against your throbbing pussy.

But before you knew it, he was lifting you off, a light string of saliva following en suit, connecting the two of you together. 

“What’s wrong?” You had a devilish grin on your pretty face. “Scared you're gonna cum too quick?”

A low, humorless chuckle rumbled through his body as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, while the other smacked your ass. 

“Nah,” his canines glinted in the lowlight, a predatorial grin etching into his features. “Just tryna make sure nothin’ gets wasted.” And then he's shifting you up, rubbing his thick cock against your gooey cunt, mixing his thick pre with your juices. 

Your heart fluttered.

His dick was so warm against your skin – so, so much better (and bigger) than the toys you regularly used to get yourself off. 

You’ve had enough. You’ve done your waiting. You needed him inside you. 

You lifted yourself up, your hands bracing themselves on either side of Toji’s broad shoulders. Your pussy was dripping down onto his angry dick as you slowly lowered yourself, hips circling, letting his throbbing head trace your sopping lips. 

He could have almost passed out from the sight alone.

Instead, he panted out a deep breath, his chest tightening as he tried to restrain himself from bucking up into your cunt. 

You paused your hips, lowering yourself again ever so slightly so that his leaking head was now smooching against your gummy entrance, the heat of his cock stirring something warm and familiar in your belly. 

Please, please, please, ple–

And then your pussy is swallowing his head whole. 

“Oh, fuuuck you’re tight mama,” his eyes squeezed shut, fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead as Toji gasped out at the sensation of his thiiick cockhead squeezing past the tight ring of muscles at your entrance. 

Your gummy walls sucked against him from all angles, squishing into his hardness and rubbing deliciously against the sensitive underside of his mushroomed tip. 

And this was just the tip.

He didn’t know if he would make it out of here alive. At least, without getting you pregnant. 

You whimpered, actually fuckin’ whimpered his name as you reached down, touching where he was spearing you apart, your lips drawn thin and tight to accommodate for the sheer size of him. 

“You’re so big Toji,” a tear rolled down your flushed cheek. “Look at how much more I gotta take.” And he did, he really did look. Because you began to let your finger slowly slide from where the two of you were connected, down, down, down to the tufts of hair at the base of his cock.

“Haah- Ya’ think it’ll fit, sweetheart?” He grunted, his lips involuntarily bucking as you pouted cutely at him. 

Something impassable flashed across your feature. “I’ll make it fuckin’ fit.”

And then you’re slamming down onto his dick, and it feels like the literal wind gets knocked out of both of your chests. 

He has never felt something so deliciously tight before.

You have never felt so goddamn filled up before.

You’re clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering and smooching around his raw cock as it pulses heavy and thick with animalistic need. 

It took you several moments to orient yourself, to gather your scrambled senses back together to remember what you were doing, what your goal was, why you were here. 

“I have a secret to tell you.” You stared down at him, an unreadable look passing over your features. 

“O-oh really?” you squeezed your walls around him, catching him off guard.

“I know you watch me touch myself,” you whispered it like it was a secret, sly and just a touch proud.

And of all the things you could’ve said, nothing would have prepared him for that.

His dick bobbed from inside of you. 

“Fushi-daddy420 isn’t the most subtlest of names, no?” you grinned meanly as you watched his jade eyes turn impossibly black as you began to slowly, teasingly, mercifully bounce on his cock. Up and down and up and down. 

“But-?”

He thought you would hate him if you knew. 

He agonized for days for this reaction?!!

“And after you ran out on me after seeing my place?” you were panting, riding him as you talked. “Yea, that kinda solidified it.”

And just when he thinks you’ve found your rhythm and set your pace, you slowly begin to circle your hips, hitting new angles deep inside your guts that have his throbbing tip pressing into the spongy part of your pussy. 

“You don’t -fuhh- don’t hate me?” his mind was swirling, how could he focus when you felt this good?

“Never.” Your hips rolled, and you pressed your tits together, giving him a show.  

And you were doing so well, and felt so good. He pressed a fat thumb against your clit, spelling out his name, as if to claim you, mark you, over and over and over again. 

T-O-J-I !

He throws his head back as he feels you creaming around his cock, while your eyes are rolling into the backs of your head as you feel his thick goopy pre frothing at your entrance, dripping down onto his balls. The pace is getting faster, the air getting hot, and thick beads of sweat are rolling down your back. The obscene sounds of sweaty skin slapping against skin filled the hot, sex-scented air. 

You lean down to kiss him, tongues messily entangling, drool spilling from the sides of your lips as you ride his cock like a fuckin’ animal, ass jiggling from the force of his hips rocking up to meet you, his heavy balls smacking against your pussy like a promise. 

In one swift motion, he’s flipping the two of you over, your back to the bed, his dick never leaving your pussy, as he continues to fuck into you. He has your legs spread wide, your knees to his sides as he buries himself deep within your warmth, the new angle allowing you to feel his fat tip smooching against your cervix.

He’s panting, breath shaky as he slows down, rutting shallowly, not allowing himself to be too far from your gummy insides. “T-tell me where you want it,” his voice came out strained, and you could see where his veins were protruding on his neck. 

Oh. His cum.

His balls were pressed against you, tightening with every passing second. You could feel his dick bobbing against your walls as he was direly trying to stop himself from cumming. 

You smiled, soft and sweet, as you pressed a hand against your lower tummy, feeling the bulge of where he was nestled inside you. 

“Oh, you already know,” and you were batting your pretty lashes up at him, making his heart stutter. “Isn’t that right, daddy?” 

And oh, how his broken mind snapped. 

The next thing you knew, he’s pressing your knees so far up they’re knocking against your tits, his hulking body leaning over and pressing down into you, chest against chest, until you could feel his warm lips sucking bruises by your ear. 

And then he’s draaagging his thick cock through your pussy until only the tip is inside you, before snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock the deepest it could go back inside you, spearing you apart, and setting an absolutely cruel, delicious, depraved pace that has his balls bruising your ass and his cock breeching your womb. 

It goes for what feels like seconds, minutes, hours.

Your legs began to shake at all the sensations, your pussy walls convulsing around him and your ears ringing as you started to see white. 

And he truly couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

Not when you sounded so hot, with your face scrunched up in the prettiest ‘o’ and your nails digging crescents into his back as you called his name, begging for his seed. 

And so he bucked up, his hips flush against yours, locking you into the meanest of mating presses, as his dick lurched, balls scrunching, as he pumped copious amounts of his thick, sticky cum straight into your womb.

And he’s still bucking his hips, through each of your peaks, fucking his cum deep inside you, until your belly was bloated and full of him.

“Thattaa girl,” he pressed a warm kiss to your mouth as he fucked you through the last few peaks of your orgasms, gingerly swiping his thumb across your cheek as if you were something precious. “My girl.”

And as you softly drifted to sleep, with a belly full of his cum and his softening dick still inside you, you could feel his scarred lips pressing light kisses across your face, and the mumblings of something that sounded vaguely too close to “iloveyou” whispered into your warm skin.

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Five weeks passed, and the Michigan Wolverines were in the midst of the NCAA College Football Championships.

After weeks of non-stop practice, conditioning, strength training, and late-night film recaps, the team of 100-odd men were finally going up against their biggest competitor in the nation.

There was much on the line, but thankfully, Senior Quarterback and Captain, Toji Fushiguro, had quite the good luck charm on his side. 

Not only did he pass Kinetics (albeit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to you), but he now had a new, fool-proof pre-game regimen (with an even better success rate!).

He still kept his same protein shake recipe.

He still kept his same choice of attire.

But this time around, he needed at least one hour of your undivided attention, with the provision that his cock be buried so deep and raw inside your trembling cunt that you could feel him in your womb. 

And it was only after intense, depraved, animalistic fucking, with your pussy stuffed full of his gooey cum, and hickies in the shape of a ‘T’ on your neck, could the 6’4 230 lbs man say with absolute certainty, that this championship was in the god damn bag. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The Wolverines won their final round of the playoffs in a sweeping victory: 52-38. 

And the star quarterback of the show could not wait to celebrate with you, his pretty lil’ girlfriend. 

So you didn’t really lose any sleep over lack of romantic partners, too focused on school and work for the absence to really be noticed. Sure, there would be a cute classmate or two that would catch your eye, and you’d appreciate them from a distance. They all fit your usual preference of traditionally masculine, athletic guys who were easygoing extroverts. You liked competence, and a potential partner of yours needed to be confident, commanding.

So yeah, maybe you did have a type. Everyone had preferences and you were no different. You didn’t really picture yourself straying from those preferences either, couldn’t picture yourself with someone shy or super introverted. Until now.

He was a transfer student, partway into his sophomore year in the psychology program, same as you, though this was your first year. You shared the same 10 am human development lecture, meaning you saw him every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning.

You never would’ve considered Choso your type. You’d never really been into the whole emo look. Sure, you’d enjoyed your fair share of Panic at the Disco and Paramore in middle school, but scene hadn’t really been your, well, scene.

You wouldn’t have ever listed all black clothes, smudged eyeliner, painted nails, or heavy silver jewelry in your list of characteristics you typically found attractive. Yes, Choso was tall and muscular. He had tattoos, including an odd line across the bridge of his nose onto his cheeks. These were all things you knew you found attractive.

But for as bold as his style was, he was quite shy. He never volunteered answers in class, only responding when called on in a quiet, almost self-conscious voice. He should speak with more confidence, you would think whenever he gave his answers, given that they were always intelligent and well-said. You never thought you liked shy types, preferring guys that could speak up and could offer up confidence in situations where your anxiety might get the best of you.

However, you couldn’t deny the way your eye was always drawn to him. He sat in the first row on the far right hand corner. You sat a couple rows behind him, more towards the center, meaning you got a fairly clear view of him. When he wasn’t taking notes, he was drawing little doodles in the margins of his notebook. You often found yourself wondering what they were.

He was cute, in his own way. He seemed quite sweet and polite, offering notes to a classmate who'd been out sick or a helping hand when the girl next to him was confined to walking on crutches. You knew some of the other girls in your lecture didn’t view him the same way. You attended a private school, a very elite one. Between your stellar grades and test scores, as well as a fairly high financial need, you had earned yourself a full ride to the university. And while the education and accommodations and features on campus were stellar, you had found that private school meant students with private school money—and the attitude that came with it. Entitled, privileged, and, in the case of the aforementioned girls in your lecture, catty fucking bitches.

You’d heard them whisper and giggle amongst themselves over Choso. Judging his clothes, his hair—you found his short space buns rather adorable—and how he’d sometimes stutter when answering questions. You often found yourself grinding your teeth, wanting to turn and cuss them out over their bitchy remarks. Choso was genuine and unpretentious in the way that pretty much everyone else at the university wasn’t, and you found yourself wanting to defend him. To protect what you were positive was a sensitive, artistic soul.

You often found yourself wondering what he did outside of class. Did he like to draw? You’d seen his little sketches in his notebook, maybe he liked drawing legitimately, in sketchbooks instead of college ruled paper. Maybe he liked to game? He seemed like he would enjoy PC gaming. Despite being outwardly withdrawn, Choso seemed like the type to be intensely dedicated to his interests, and you found yourself wanting to know what they were.

You were delighted to find out that your interest was shared.

It started with a partner project your professor had shared with the class on Monday. Partners were randomly chosen and the rest of class was spent exchanging contact information and planning out a rough timeline and ideas for the project. You had cheered internally when your name popped up next to Choso’s. Sliding into the now-vacant seat next to his, you’d smiled and introduced yourself. Choso had blushed furiously, ducking his head and quietly giving you his name in response.

You formed a theory that day, one that was proven correct by the next class.

Choso had a crush on you.

He was horrible at hiding it, always blushing or stuttering when talking to you, never able to look you in the eye. And despite how protective you’d felt towards him against those judgemental bitches that sat near you in lecture, you couldn’t help but tease him a little bit.

Leaning in and smiling softly when he spoke, not breaking eye contact when you’d prop your chin on your hand to listen intently to what he was saying. His eyes would widen and a furious blush would spread across his cheeks, and he would lose track of whatever he’d been saying. His reaction would prompt an even more mischievous glint in your eye and sharpness in your smile, in turn making him even more nervous. When you suggested meeting up in the library or his apartment, he’d choked on his sip of water. You’d just grinned.

You’d decided the library was probably a better way to ease Choso into spending time with you without him having a heart attack. Baby steps.

The afternoon you two decided to get together for your project was a rainy one. A very rainy one. The brief mad dash from the bus to the entrance of the library had left you soaked, and now you stood in the air conditioned library shivering so hard your teeth clacked.

Your slow, shivering footsteps to the third floor where you and Choso had agreed to meet left wet footprints along the floor. You swore that this floor was even colder, and you tried to wrap your damp cardigan around yourself in attempt to chase away the goosebumps that had covered your skin. Your footsteps faltered, however, when you spotted Choso sitting at a table in front of a window. He was backlit by stormy gray skies and occasional bursts of lightning. He hunched slightly over what he was working on, brows furrowed in concentration. He was drawing, you realized, and you stood there for what was probably a creepy amount of time, but the warmth that blossomed in your chest as you watched him was addicting.

Until the cold that had seeped into your very bones wrenched a violent sneeze from you. Choso startled and looked up, eyes widening as he took in the sight of you, which most likely resembled a drowned cat.

“Oh,” he breathed, standing up so fast his chair tumbled back. He scrambled to the chair next to him, wrestling something off the back of it. As he rushed towards you holding a mass of black fabric you realized it was his jacket.

Heavy leather settled over your shoulders and you were suddenly wrapped in the warm, spicy scent of his cologne. His dark eyes were scanning all over your body as if searching for injuries, his brows pulling together in worry.

After a long moment of you two staring at each other, you finally remembered to give him a softly whispered, “Thank you”.

He blushed, ducking his head and abruptly stepping back as if he’d just realized how close you two were standing. His big hand, adorned with heavy silver rings that glinted in the low light, came up to rub the back of his neck.

“I doubt you’d be comfortable studying here in wet clothes,” he said suddenly. “I-if you want we can stop over in my dorm and you can borrow some clothes.” You were quiet for a second, surprised that he’d invited you into his space given how shocked he'd been when you’d first brought it up. Mistaking your surprise for reluctance, he rushed out, “O-only if you want to of course. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He looked adorably horrified at the idea.

Not wanting him to panic any longer, you grinned at him. “I’d love to.”

This time around, you fared a bit better on your journey to the bus stop since you had Choso’s large jacket to shield you from the worst of the rain. You relished in the warmth and the scent of his cologne, and the fact that you were dwarfed by his jacket. You chanced a glance up at Choso and admired the way he towered over you despite the way he hunched his shoulders as if to appear smaller. He had not fared so well in the rain; his hair had fallen out of its knot and the strands stuck to his face, highlighting its sharp lines and angles. His eyeliner had smudged slightly, contrasting with the paleness on his skin. Instead of looking like the dripping mess you had, he looked like he had stepped out of rainy ad for designer clothes or cologne or something. It was rather unfair.

The whole bus ride to his apartment, you could see him stealing glances at you from the corner of your eye and it took everything in you not to grin. You wanted Choso, and you delighted in the fact that he wanted you just as bad, if not more so.

His apartment was small, but tidy and clean. It was well decorated too, but you weren’t too surprised by that. There were pretty paintings and drawings lining the walls, with art supplies and trinkets scattered across nearly every flat surface. You spotted an electric guitar leaning against an amp in the corner.

The smell of his cologne was practically woven into the air in here, and it was all you could do to not gulp down deep breaths of it with every inhale.

As you as you two had stepped inside, Choso had immediately started rambling nervously, apologizing for the mess and letting you know you could borrow any clothes you wanted, and did you need anything? Like a water or a—

“Choso,” you interrupted gently, “do you mind terribly if I hop in your shower?”

“Oh! Of course! Um, let me grab a spare towel and some clothes and—” his voice faded as he started rushing towards his room, and you trailed after him with a soft smile on your face.

You had been about to invite him to join you in the shower before he excused himself to his room and told you to shout if you needed anything. Slightly disappointed, but not discouraged, you’d nodded and headed towards the bathroom.

Little did you know that as soon as the bathroom door closed, Choso was stripping down to his boxers and lying back on his bed, palming his cock through the fabric as he desperately tried, and failed, not to imagine you naked in his shower. Covered in soap and shrouded by steam, looking oh so perfect like you always did.

He tried to stifle the tortured groan that tore out of his chest. His hand was rough over his cock, handling it without finesse as he tried to get himself to stop. He felt so, so guilty, but the mental image of you glistening under the water mere feet away from him made him feel so, so good. Heat tightened in his gut as he fished his dick out of his boxers and started to viciously pump his hand up and down the shaft, biting his forearm to stem desperate cries of your name.

Pressure built in his gut, stomach tensing as he hurtled towards the edge. White covered his vision as he came suddenly and violently, his orgasm ripping through him like a storm. It was only as he laid there trying to catch his breath that his ears stopped ringing that he realized the shower had stopped.

Panic shot through him as he leapt up, blindly searching for clothes and something to wipe the cum off his stomach.

You stepped into the room to find Choso in sweatpants, his chest heaving and looking slightly guilty as his hands wrung together nervously. He opened his mouth to say something, before he registered what you wearing.

His t shirt was huge on you, nearly hanging down to your knees. Your collarbones peaked out from the collar of the shirt, your damp hair hanging down in gentle waves over your shoulders.

This domestic, intimate version of you, standing in his apartment wearing his clothes left Choso speechless and his mind short circuiting. You smiled softly at him and his heart stuttered.

“I, um",” he couldn’t get any words out, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Choso,” you said gently, and his eyes snapped to yours, a guilty flush spreading over his cheeks.

“I’m sorr-” he started, but cut off as you shushed him and stepped closer. His heart damn near stopped as you raised you hand to touch his chest. Your delicate fingers drew graceful lines over the designs of his tattoos, tracing the whorls of ink that covered his chest.

“Did they hurt?” you whisper, transfixed by the sight of how small your fingers looked against the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, hardly daring to breathe in fear of breaking whatever was happening in this moment. He nearly tipped his hand back and groaned when you pressed your entire hand against his chest. He had no doubt that you could feel the way his heart raced under your palm.

Your breathing synced with his, and he tipped his chin down to take in the sight of you standing so close to him with your hands on his skin. This time, as your other hand came up to press against his stomach, he couldn’t stop his groan.

His eyes shut in embarrassment and he opened him mouth to apologize, but you cut him off.

“Choso,” you whispered. He eyes opened and landed on you. The way he looked at you, as if you were the only thing in the room worth looking at, filled you with warmth and confidence.

“Yes?” he whispered back and you grinned.

“You should kiss me,” you told him, and his dark eyes widened.

“What"?” he sputtered in surprise.

“Kiss me,” you repeated and smiled at him.

With another groan, he hand came up to cradle your jaw and he pressed his lips to yours. You were immediately addicted to the taste of him. He worked his mouth over yours feverishly, his other arm coming up to wrap around your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him and trapping your arms between the two of you.

You were expecting something soft. Something shy and sweet from the boy who’d steal glances at you during psych lectures. You were not expecting this.

Choso’s tongue surged into your mouth, making you moan and run your hands up to his shoulders to grasp at him. He was practically curled around you to reach your mouth, he was that much taller than you. You startled when you felt the clack of metal against your teeth, before your pussy clenched at the realization that Choso had a tongue piercing.

He ate at you like he was starving, and the hand at your jaw moved as he crouched down slightly. You pulled away a little, confused and wanting to see what he was doing. Choso gave a displeased grunt at the distance before wrapping that arm under your ass and yanking you back to his mouth.

He now held you in the air like you weighed nothing as you two made out, heavy breaths and wet sounds from your mouths the only thing that could be heard in the room. You curled your hands in his black strands and pulled on them roughly, earning a grunt from Choso.

He spun with you in his arms, blindly walking towards the direction of his bed. Your mouth ripped from his in a soft cry as you two fell back on to the bed, your stomach swooping from the quick drop.

For a moment, Choso hovered over you, staring down at you like he couldn’t believe you were really here. You took in your fill of him as well. His handsome face and silky hair. The muscles that bunched at his shoulders and biceps and pecs. The veins that corded his forearms and hands. You couldn’t believe the girls in your class didn’t find him ridiculously hot.

Choso must’ve snapped out of whatever awed trance he’d been in, because he swooped back down to devour your mouth, a muscular arm wrapping around you once more to yank your body to his. Your back arched and you moaned at the feel of hard muscle and hot skin along your bare thighs as you wrapped your legs around him.

He thrust helplessly against you at the sound, as if your moans and cries controlled his body. When you moaned and gasped “Again!” he began grinding against you, grunts and groans of his own leaving his mouth as his tongue traced every inch of your mouth, the cool metal ball of his piercing tracing each path.

Heat had spread through you, and need burned like fire low in your tummy. You were soaked and desperate to show Choso that you weren’t wearing anything under his t shirt.

“Off,” you groaned, yanking at his sweatpants. “all of it.”

At first he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t bear to be away from you even for a moment, but when you tugged on his waistband again he almost tripped over himself as he rushed to rip off his clothes.

Silence descended over the room, with only the sound patter of rain outside softly filtering in.

You knew Choso was a big guy. He towered over you and his shoulders were practically doubled the width of yours. You knew he was muscular, even more so than you’d initially thought as you stared at his naked body. Each muscle was rock hard and defined, as if a sculptor had taken extra care to run a chisel along every line of him.

And you could’ve spent hours looking at and running your hands over his arms, his chest, his back, his thighs; you could’ve spent hours idly tracing your fingertips over every line of his tattoos that lovingly hugged his body. Hopefully some day you would. But now, one thing on his body was stealing all of your attention.

Choso was huge.

Hard and thick and throbbing. So heavy that it hung between his thighs instead of springing up. Veins wound around the shaft towards his head that was already leaking pre. The pretty pink of his dick belied the fact that Choso was packing a fucking monster.

“Holy shit,” you breathed as you stared at his cock. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, partially in arousal and partially in shock.

“Is… is it... okay?” Choso, the poor thing, asked uncertainly. You finally tore your eyes from his throbbing cock to look into his soulful puppy dog eyes.

“You’re huge, Choso,” you said, stating the obvious.

Or not so obvious. To Choso at least, given the fact that he glance down at his own cock and looked back at you and asked, “Is it?”. You almost laughed, before you realized he was genuinely asking. (He was too embarrassed to say that he’d found himself to be about the same size as the dicks he’d seen in porn, apparently not aware that porn stars did not reflect the size of the average population.)

“Yeah baby,” you responded, “you’re really, very big.” At that, Choso whined and grasped at his cock, rutting into his hand as your words made him twitch and leak even more.

“Can I… what do you want me to do?” Choso asked, desperation bleeding into his tone as his hand pumped his cock like he couldn’t help it.

“Come here, Cho,” you whispered, and he lurched towards you as if yanked by a leash. He practically fell over you, one arm catching himself as he planted a knee on the bed, eyes never leaving you.

Slowly, you leaned forward, close enough that you were breathing each other’s air, before you leaned back in order to lift his t shift off your body. Choso made a sound halfway between a groan and a sob as he realized you were completely naked underneath.

“Please,” he whimpered, the hand on his dick squeezing the base violently now to stop him from cumming just from the sight of you.

“Touch me, Choso,” you told him softly, curious to see what he’d do first.

Which, apparently, was to dive face first into your pussy.

You cried out, hands flying down to grip his hair as he swiped his tongue in a fat stripe over the entire length of you. If you hadn’t been so shocked, you would’ve been embarrassed by how loud the wet slurp a single swipe of his tongue had elicited from your pussy due to how fucking soaked you were for him.

He dove the fuck in, practically nuzzling your cunt as he thrust his tongue into you. You groaned, eyes fluttering and back arching. Every time you made a sound or called his name he sucked at you even harder, licked at you even rougher. Every movement of his mouth caused wet slurps and squelches to sound from between your legs, your pussy dripping for him. You could feel his piercing caress you with every swipe of his tongue.

He alternated between long licks and deep thrusts of his tongue inside you, neglecting your poor clit that throbbed for attention. The longer he went, the more desperately it pulsed as wetness poured from you.

“Please Cho,” you begged, using your grip on his hair to pull his face even tighter against you. He was practically smothered in your pussy, not that he seemed to mind. His groan vibrated through you, causing you to groan as well. “Please.”

At your second plea he relented, wrapping those pouty lips around your clit and sucking, hard, the metal of his piercing pressing perfectly into the underside of your clit. You nearly screamed as you came without warning, throwing your head back against the pillows as the dam broke. Heat pulsed through you as your hips rolled against Choso’s mouth. Your orgasm left you so wet you could hear Choso drinking you down as you slowly came down from your high.

You melted into Choso’s bed as he raised his head to look at you. The sight of him, dark shiny eyes looking at your from between your thighs, big veiny hands gripping the fat of your hips so hard you’re pretty sure you’ll find bruises in the morning, made you clench around nothing.

“Your fingers, Cho,” you panted, reaching down to cradle his cheek, “need you to get me ready to take your cock baby.” He gave a tortured groan, burying his face against one of your thighs as he ground his hips into the bed. With a parting kiss to your leg, he leaned back on his haunches and brought a hand to your sensitive, pulsing pussy.

You gasped, stomach heaving as his thick fingers swiped up the seam of you before pressing inside. A single one of his fingers was like two of yours, and you rolled your hips to pull him deeper. He groaned, starting to pump his finger into you roughly, soon adding a second finger.

You could feel the cool metal of his rings against your flushed, burning hot cunt. Each press of his fingers inside made a wet squelch, and when he curled his fingers against your front wall you began crying out. When he slowly eased a third finger inside of you and pressed all three fingers up against that spot, you screamed as another orgasm wracked through you. Your legs shook, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back as you came so hard it almost hurt.

Choso had wrapped an arm around one of your bent legs, pressing a kiss to your knee as he continued to thrust into you gently, slowly spreading his fingers inside of you. Prepping you.

“C’mere,” you slurred, pulling him to your mouth even as his fingers stayed pressed inside you. You kissed him, hot and wet and filthy as you panted into his mouth. Choso slipped his free arm under your shoulders to pull you closer, your bare chests pressing together. He whimpered when you pulled at his hair roughly. You pulled away, a string of saliva hanging between your mouths.

“Please fuck me, Cho,” you whispered.

He couldn’t move fast enough, leaning back and pulling his fingers out of you so fast you cried out. He fumbled at his nightstand, pulling up a drawer to search for a condom. Briefly, you had the ridiculous thought of the poor cashier that had to ring up whatever crazy huge size of condoms Choso needed. The thought quickly vanished and your mouth went dry as you watched him roll the condom on. Despite how relaxed and wet you were for him, you were seriously doubting your ability to take this thing.

As if sensing your nerves, Choso raised his head to look into your eyes. His were big and pleaded, but searching for any sign of reluctance or discomfort.

“Come here,” you said, and he followed obediently, draping his big body over you and letting you pull his lips to yours. Your tongues swiped lazily at each other as you both panted into the other’s mouth. You made a game of searching for Choso’s piercing with the tip of your tongue, which seemed to drive him crazy.

Slowly, you reached down to grab his cock, trepidation seeping in as you grasped at the girth of him. Holy shit.

He whimpered against your mouth as you guided him towards your entrance, and bit at your lip as your pressed the tip of him inside. You had to work him against you for a second, spreading your lips around him until he slipped in with a slight pop. You groaned against his mouth and he froze, terrified that he’d hurt you.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered as you pulled him toward you to take a few more inches. You knew there was so much more left to go but already you were feeling the deep, aching stretch. “You’re so fucking big, Cho.” Your praise made him moan, and he leaned down to hide his face in your neck as his hips jerked forward at your words.

You let him take over, trusting him to watch and listen for any cues from you that you needed to stop, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Choso began to pull back the few inches you had already taken before slowly pressing back into you, feeding you a little bit more of him. He did it again, and again, starting a slow pace of gently thrusting more and more of him inside of you.

You clawed at his back, no doubt leaving stinging red lines behind, as you gasped in his ear. Each slow thrust felt like it was rearranged your insides, the stretch a deep ache that pulsed through your hips. After what felt like an eternity, you felt his pelvis press flush against yours, the hair of his happy trail tickling your tummy.

“Choso,” you gasped out as his shoulders heaved above you. He shook with the restraint it took to stay still, the blissful wet heat of you around him like heaven. He moaned your name in your ear and your body arched to press impossibly closer to his.

Your eyes rolled back as a mini orgasm shivered through you at just the feeling of taking all of him. He gave a helpless little cry and thrust his hips against you as he felt you pulsing around him.

“You can—hah—you can move now, baby,” you panted into his ear, and with a whine he immediately pulled back a few inches and thrust back into you hard. You cried out, fingernails dragging down his back as he did it again. And again. And again and again, until he was slamming into you with his arms wrapped tightly around your back, forcing you to arch into him as he desperately drove his hips forward with his face buried in your neck.

Distantly, you could hear the headboard slamming against the wall, and had the inane thought that his neighbors were most likely not happy campers at the moment.

Those thoughts were quickly knocked from your head at a particularly delicious thrust that had you arching your back and moaning Choso’s name, a breathy exhale into his ear that made him grind forward with a whine.

Veins popped out along Choso’s hands and arms, which were planted on either side of your head. Wrapping your hands around them, you ran them up his arms to feel the dips and curves of the muscles that strained from holding his weight up. He shuddered as your hands traveled up his arms, across his shoulders, and into his hair, tugging lightly.

“Fuck,” he grit out, dropping to one elbow and wrapping his other arm around your back to yank you against him. You could feel the hard lines of his abs against the soft skin of your stomach. And you swear you could feel the slight bulge of him in your tummy press out from inside of you against his abdomen. Your sweaty stomachs slid against each other as he thrust into you. Desperately, he slammed his mouth to yours, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into the messy kiss, tracing his tongue with yours and feeling the metal ball of his piercing caress it. When you sucked his tongue, his hips slammed forward viciously and you broke the kiss with a cry.

“Choso,” you gasped against his ear, “please.”

He groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder and thrust in to the hilt, punching a pathetic little cry from you. The entire length of his inside of you stretched you ridiculously, and you felt him deep in your tummy, your entire body seeming to throb around him. One of your hands fisted his hair while the other dug nails into his shoulder when he started to grind his hips into you, hot and heavy and so, so good.

When your hips jerked up, Choso pulled his back a little, only to snap them forward back into you, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from your wet heat. Each of his short, powerful thrusts ended with a filthy grind against, making the veins that twisted along his shaft hit every sensitive spot inside you, lighting you up like a live wire.

The arm he had wrapped around your back slid lower, hoisting your hips up in the air. The change in angle meant that his length slid along your g spot with every slick slid in and out. Light flashed behind your eyes and white hot pleasure burst over every inch of you. Your skin felt like it was on fire as your tummy coiled tightly.

With a shout of his name, the pleasure exploded, and you practically sobbed as wave after wave swept over you. Wetness poured from you, coating Choso’s shaft and stomach. You could hear him groan at the sensation and the way his hips stuttered against you at the feeling of you pulsing around him.

With one final, desperate thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and bit down on your shoulder hard as he came. You shivered at the feeling of him throbbing inside you and the heat that spread along his covered cock. Deliriously, you half-wished you could experience the sensation of him cumming inside you without a condom, to have his cum spill out of you when he pulled out.

Your arms were wrapped around each other as you both fought to catch your breath. You could feel his large chest heaving against yours. Slowly, he lifted his head to meet your eyes, the soulful brown bottomless as he gazed wonderingly at you. You lifted a shaky hand to cradle his cheek, warmth spreading in your chest when his eyes closed in bliss and he nuzzled into your palm, turning his head to press a kiss to it.

He mumbled something that was completely muffled by the palm of your hand. You giggled, pulling your hand away in order to hear what he was saying, only for him to nip at your fingers. He grinned dopily at your shriek.

“What did you say?” you asked breathlessly, unable to resist meeting his goofy grin with a smile of your own.

Crimson bloomed across Choso’s cheeks, but he stared you down unwaveringly nonetheless.

“Will you go out with me?” he asked, and despite everything you two had just done together, you could tell he was nervous. And despite everything you two had just done together, his question launched a horde of butterflies in your stomach.

“I’d like that,” you respond, delighting in the wide grin that spread across Choso’s face. You reached up to brush away some of the dark strands of his sweaty hair that had fallen across his forehead.

“But before that, why don’t we hop in the shower?”

The next time your Human Development lecture met, you found yourself in the seat next to Choso’s, sitting close enough for your thigh to brush against his. His right hand was busy handwriting notes (you’d teased him about his refusal to upgrade to typing up his notes, but he’d insisted writing them down by hand was better for memorization), while his left rested on your leg, thumb sweeping idly back and forth across your thigh. You bit your lip to try and contain your grin, focusing intently on typing away at your laptop.

During a brief lull when your professor stepped away to the computer to pull up the next presentation, soft whispers reached you from a few rows back.

“so lame, why does he even—”

“no why he actually bagged—”

“please… doesn’t even look like he could—”

“probably… small dick… pathetic virgin—”

Anger simmered violently through you, and you found yourself clenching your jaw, imagining all the ways you could turn around and tell those fucking bitches to back off—you were pulled abruptly from your thoughts as Choso’s thumb swept of your leg again. You glanced at him and saw him give you a shy, sweet smile before turning back to his notebook.

You pressed your lips together, fighting off a smile once again. You settled back into your seat, facing forward as your professor started up his lecture.

Whatever. you thought to yourself smugly. They could think and say whatever they wanted, because at the end of the day, you were the one walking side to side after a night with your emo boyfriend.

The entrance to Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary opened up to the main hallway; with classrooms upon either side, and doorways spaced between walls that were kaleidoscopes of crafts and schoolbag hooks and polaroids of students over the years. If Toji looked hard enough then he’d even be able to find the polaroid where Megumi was flipping the camera off—he’d learned that one from him, see.

That was an awkward parent-teacher meeting.

But that was also the day he properly met you - beyond just the polite nod and hasty small talk at drop-off and pick-up. 

With your adorable flowery apron on - courtesy of elementary school policy - and your lips trying very hard not to twitch up into a smile—very nicely telling Megumi that that wasn’t something good kids do.

Toji agreed then. He’d have agreed with anything you said.

“But you were the one that taught—”

He’d slapped his hand over Megumi’s mouth then.

You’d let a small laugh slip- and he was a goner. 

After that meeting, Megumi may have lost something (iPad privileges for a whole month), but Toji gained something: this little ember of attraction that he couldn’t shake off no matter how much he tried. Every routine pick-up and drop-off, every bake sale, every little notification that lit up his phone—you typing into the parents’ groupchat about some announcement or the other. And though it’d never be anything too personal, his heart always thundered in his chest as he clicked those notifications open. Is it weird that he set a different tone for your notifications?

The harder he tried to ignore it, the further it kindled.

Until he evidently couldn’t even walk inside that damn building without feeling some part of him melt just a little…

Even now, his skin burns as he watches you. 

Biting back a laugh as one of your students hugged their guardian goodbye- so hard that both adult and child topple over. And then you’re being grappled into the same embrace, which you’re letting yourself be tugged into—soon enough, three more of your students join in. One tucks a wildflower from the garden behind your ear.

Sunlight falls across your face as your head falls back in a laugh - and then you’re leaning forwards and grabbing all of those tiny bodies in a hug. 

Toji can’t help but wonder whether you’d like to be embraced just the same. Toji can’t help but wonder whether you’d laugh just like that when you’re picked up and spun around, feet never touching the ground. Toji can’t help but wonder why the hell Itadori Yuji was pointing and laughing at him.

“Mr. Fushiguro’s dad, your face looks funny—!” He squeals. Loud enough for multiple parents to turn and look.

Toji grumbles something underneath his breath and straightens, like the respectable adult - the respectable adult - he is. Cool. Calm. Collected. Mature. “Oh yeah? And your hair looks funny, kid.”

Now those same parents were turning to him and glaring. 

“What—?!” He gruffs out at them, hands raising in surrender. “He started it.”

Itadori turns to them and smiles an utterly precious, gap-toothed smile. 

He tells himself that he’s imagining the way they seem to be pulling their kids away from him.

Itadori stops laughing and ruffles his own coral-pink locks. The boy had strong-armed himself to become one of Megumi’s best friends since their first day; and he always has made himself known as the chatterbox of the group. The sweetheart. The trouble-stirrer (one of them, at least). “My grandpa says it’s um- jeanetic. My father had pink hair, too.”

Toji raises a brow, “Oh?”

“Yeah! Did you know my uncle’s in prison?” The boy looks squarely up at him and beams. “He sets things on fire.”

“Same, bud.”

“I eat dirt.”

“…what the fuck.” Toji whispers underneath his breath- though it must’ve been loud enough for the keenest of eavesdroppers to listen, because before he knows it, a little boy with a face mask and the most atrocious bowl cut Toji’s seen in his life—pulls out a notebook from his backpack and starts furiously scribbling something down.

Assumably the profanity he’d just spoken.

Inumaki Toge, was it?

Now he’s the one stepping away from these damn kids. 

But before he can get too far, Toji feels a tug on either arm—he looks to his right: Itadori. 

Attempting to climb up his forearms and biceps like monkey bars.

He looks to his left: Kugisaki.

Looking knowingly between you and him.

“These partners stink of-”

“What was that?” Kugisaki asks. 

“Nothing.” Toji quickly replies. And then there was the other one: Kugisaki Nobara was impossible to miss in a classroom. If not by her chattering that was just as loud as pink-haired Itadori’s, then by the red, rubber hammer that she seemed to be fond of, smashing it on top of people’s heads if they displeased her. He was just in the middle of wondering whether he could be successfully knocked out if she hit him hard enough when-

“Where…are you taking me?” He quickly narrows his eyes- just as soon as the little girl started pulling him by the hand. Towards your classroom. “Hey—”

“Oh, c’moooon.” She rolls her eyes in a manner that was far too expert for her age. “How is the male lead going to get the heroine if they don’t even talk?”

“I’m not the main character?”

Itadori - who had by now managed to perch atop his right shoulder like some parrot - whispers uncomfortably in his ear. “How’s the rizzler going to get the skibidi?”

Toji whirls to him- “Bless you?” The fuck…

Megumi follows and nods sagely. Deadpanning. “Dad’s not sigma enough for that.”

“Not you, too?!”

“Hi?”

The Earth had given way from underneath him. But in reality, it was just your voice breaking through the chaos of the elementary lobby—Itadori had begun gripping onto his shaggy, black bangs for balance now- and Toji was doing all he could to peak through the boy’s cutely chubby fingers.

A breath catching in his chest once he realizes that they’d walked him all the way over to you.

Apron on. Brows raised. A flower tucked prettily behind your ear. Standing right at the door to your vibrant classroom; you kept a hand on your mouth to stifle your obvious smile. Though nothing could hide the light in your eyes.

And before Toji’s given the opportunity to wax shitty poetics about it in his mind, you’re nodding at the boy latched onto Toji’s head. With a smile- “Down now, Yuji. What have I said about climbing people like monkey bars?”

He sighs and removes his hands covering Toji’s eyes, “To not climb people like monkey bars.”

“And what are you doing right now?”

“Climbing people like monkey bars.” 

“Down, please.”

Yes, ma’am…Toji’s thinking to himself. Snap out of it, man.

It was like a miracle. Itadori Yuji - for however much of a sweetheart he was - was never the type to listen to authority so directly—you could tell the kid to not eat glue and he’d chug down the whole bottle. Toji knows. From experience.

But it’s as easy as butter that he’s sliding off the older man now- and soon enough, his small red shoes are hitting the floor. And he’s staring up at Toji with his scarred mouth gaped open.

In fact, everyone was.

“Um, Fushiguro-san? Is everything okay?” Your brows then pinch in concern.

Kugisaki slaps her forehead, and Megumi seems to sink deeper into his bangs. As quickly as the words are registering in his head—he’s shutting his mouth and faintly puffing his broad chest out. Making sure that you see the way his beefy biceps flex as he scratches behind his neck. “Yeah- yeah, everything’s alright. How about you?”

“Can’t complain.” You giggle. And when there doesn’t seem to be a follow-up question, he flexes even harder. “I see uh…you’ve been hitting the gym lately, Fushiguro-san.”

“Oh, me?” He has the audacity to look a little shocked. “That’s cute, doll. But I don’t hit the gym.”

“You must take steroids then.” Itadori pipes up gleefully. “My uncle takes them, too-”

“I’m all natural—”

As this subsides, you’re taking control of the chaos like the professional you are. “Alright, oh- look at the time!” Sweeping a glance behind you at the classroom clock, “We’re almost late for attendance and rehearsal time. Let’s get inside, kids.” 

You start ushering some of them inside- and Toji squirms as those balls of energy rush past him. Evidently you were preoccupied with them, but you have enough time to look up at the older man and flash him a smile-

“And I’ll see you at pick-up then?”

Faintly, he nods. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.” You cock your head up at him, “Hope you have fun with the gym then~”

“U-uh-huh.”

He can only watch mutely as you whisk a few students inside and clap your hands to get their attention—some of the parents were filtering out and he knows he must look like such a creep…but you were just so astounding. And at least he hadn’t completely fucked up that interaction-

“Mr. Fushiguro’s dad, sorry for your aura loss.” Itadori pats him comfortingly on his side. There were still some students milling about with their goodbyes. 

He whirls, “Fushiguro Toji doesn’t lose aura-”

“But you did.” Kugisaki nods with her arms crossed. “You fumbled, Fushiguro-san.”

He turns to his beloved son for reassurance. 

Megumi looks at Toji blankly. “You never had aura to me, dad.”

“That’s it-”

“But it’s okay.” Kugisaki says, “The male lead never gets the heroine in the first five minutes. They have to suffer first. You just messed up Phase One.”

He almost feels sorry asking. “And…what is Phase One?”

“The rizz phase.” This time, it’s Itadori that answers. “You have zero rizz, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad. But—we have a plan.”

“A plan?”

Itadori holds up three fingers. “Four more phases before you win Ms. Teacher’s heart!” Not so loud…he’s grateful you haven’t noticed them yet. 

Megumi holds up the correct number of fingers. “Four more phases to embarrass yourself, dad.”

What moral support, son.

“I don’t know…” 

Itadori nods seriously, “Take it this way, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad- there’s a red button and a blue button in front of you. If you press the red button you die alone like my uncle probably will. If you press the blue button you totally rizz Ms. Teacher up and live happily-ever-after before she divorces you. Which button would you press?”

Neither?! His jaw drops. “What the fu-”

“We just want to matchmake you!” Kugisaki shoves Itadori aside. 

He eyes the kids warily. Leaving his love life to three elementary schoolers? Has Fushiguro Toji really fallen this far? Oh…he really is getting old. “Whatever. I don’t a shi- damn.”

And the answer is yes, yes he has.

But then Kugisaki clasps her hands together and beams, “Then in the end you’ll be just like Jinu and Rumi from K-pop Demon Hunters!”

And beside himself, Toji cracks a little smile. “Yeah…yeah, maybe we will.”

“You’ll die in the end and she’ll become a demon!”

“…let’s just stick to Phase Two.”

.

.

.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE TWO: SWEET TREATS!

Status: Pending…

Why did he agree to this shit again?

Though it wasn’t exactly Valentine’s Day; Fushiguro Toji was lugging a cart ‘round the candy aisles of Maruetsu supermarket, followed by three children with sticky fingers that just kept on piling even more sweets into the hefty chocolate-filled cart. And more. And more. And more-

And though Toji agrees that there was never a wrong day for chocolate - he was just damn relieved that yesterday had been pay day. These brats didn’t even glance at the price before throwing chocolate bars and heart-shaped candies over the cart rim.

Right alongside a bunch of flour, butter, and whatever shit one needed to make cookies. 

Because yes—Fushiguro Toji was apparently the type to make cookies now. 

Itadori tosses a bunch of Daddy Tony’s Chocolonely into the cart. “We’re totally chocolate-mogging everyone in the store right now.”

Why did he agree to this shit again?

It’d been their idea.

Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary’s annual talent show was nearing. The decorations were being made. The kids were rehearsing after-school. And Toji didn’t care too much about such things—the only reason this had stuck in his mind was because you’d sent a message about it in the group chat. And he’d read that little sentence over and over again until he memorized it. 

To raise funds for such an endeavour, the elementary was hosting a bake sale; where parents - should they choose to do so - could contribute their own baked goods and little treats and candies that could be sold. The year before, Toji had honestly just sent Megumi off with a bag of chips that Itadori had scoffed down in all of three seconds. 

Though, in his defense, it wasn’t mandatory and he didn’t know what the fuck a bake sale was supposed to be. 

Phase Two of the plan seemingly consisted of emptying out Toji’s pockets- the three of them had insisted that this bake sale was the perfect opportunity for Toji to make his move on you.

It was simple, really—bake cookies for the sale, sell them there, and when it came to you- woo you with a special heart-shaped cookie and ask you out. Simple! 

Was it obvious that this plan had been concocted by a bunch of nine-year-olds?

Toji sighs.

He glimpses Megumi wandering into the meat section and reaching for ¥50,000 Wagyu-

The next day, after burning the first few batches of cookies and setting fire to his kitchen only twice, Toji found himself crammed into a pretty pink-frilled booth at the official annual bake sale. Equally as pink apron cinched around his waist—and his t-shirt so tight that he catches a few single parents giving him appreciative looks.

Though he wasn’t paying attention to that. 

He was keeping his eyes on you- making your way from booth-to-booth, laughing along with parents and trying out everything your students had to offer. 

Toji lets out a long, lingering sigh.

He was never going to get over this damn crush—

Next to him, Megumi and his two best friends were the ones manning the counter and giving out cookies to paying customers. He hates to admit it, but business was booming. 

“Hey…hey, if I pay you in chocolates would you sell this shit again for me?”

Megumi looks up at him blankly. “I want 60% equity and ¥5 for every unit sold.”

Toji drops a cookie he was holding over the counter—“M-maybe not…”

“Hey, there’s Ms. Teacher!” Itadori squeals. 

And then…and then the most sweet, seraphic sound echoes in his ears- too close for it to be something he’d imagined, too removed from him to be anyone but you. You’re making the tall man freeze where he was leaned over the counter - and the hairs on the back of his neck rise…he’s pausing to listen for you before he knows it.

“Oh, let me get that for you.”

Toji hadn’t noticed you walk over. Toji hadn’t noticed you bending down to pick up the cookie he’d dropped. “O-oh, no you don’t need to—” Not before you’re straightening up and holding it out to him with a beautiful smile. 

“It’s no problem.” You chirp. 

Mutely, he takes the crumbling cookie from you.

He wanted that cookie badly.

“So…I see business is booming.” You nod down at the three little ones manning the counter, “Good job, sweethearts. How are you today?”

“Good.” Both Megumi and Kugisaki echo.

“My grandma got hit by a bazooka!” Itadori beams.

Your smile falters, though Toji’s impressed at how quickly you recover. “Well…that’s certainly a time, isn’t it, Yuji? And how are you, Fushiguro-san?”

“O-oh, me—?” His faze sizzles at being called out so suddenly. And the older man hurries to scratch behind his neck—did his biceps look good in this apron? “Ah…chill.”

“Chill, hm?” You smirk. Eyeing him, “I dunno- I’d say it’s a rather hot day today.”

Features scrunching up, Toji leans his head out and looks at the sky. “Is it? Those damn weathermen always lie.”

Megumi smacks his forehead. 

“No, I just meant…” You’re flitting your gaze at the paper-thin fabric of his t-shirt, wrapped around his chiselled limbs so perfectly. Gift-wrapped. And then you’re shaking your head, instead turning to the rows of cookies put on display. “Anyways- any recommendations you guys have for me?”

Toji furrows his brows at the abrupt change in conversation. Beside him, reaching just past his knee, Kugisaki kicks him in the shin and hisses- “The cookie! The cooooookie! Make a move, male lead!”

“Oh. Oh.” Toji startles. Bending down and whispering back, “Now?”

“Yes, now!”

“But-”

“Go.”

“Wait—”

“Go!”

Finally, he holds one calloused palm out at you. Bandaged and slightly aching from baking all day yesterday. “Stay here, we made something special for you.”

“Oh?”

Toji shuffles around in the box of cookies that they’d brought with them; packaged away and separated from the rest was one particular cookie—your favorite flavor, which he’d probed out of the kids. Specifically made in the shape of a heart.

His hands shake a little bit as he turns to you with it.

Scarred lips parting, “This is…”

“For me?” You cock your head with a sweet smile.

He nods. “Free of charge.”

“That’s too sweet, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Please—” Toji interrupts, fingers weak - barely holding onto the crinkled package - as he holds it out to you. “I insist. For taking care of my son.”

Something changes in your expression, and your fingers twitch closer to his.

The trio watches open-mouthed as your hands close the gap in mid-air before—

“Oooooooo, cookie! Fanum tax!” 

Before one Todo Aoi leans over the counter and snatches the cookie fast- before everyone could even blink, all of Toji’s emotions, hopes, pursuits, and dreams find themselves stuffed down the crumb-coated maw of the little boy. Chomped to bits.

Everyone looks at him in stunned silence.

He polishes off the cookie in three bites.

“What?” Todo asks as the silence stretches even longer- and he notices the stares around him. “Needs a little more salt…”

Toji feels like keeling over. “I am going to-”

“Here, Ms.” Megumi picks up one of those cute, floral-decorated cookie packets on the counter and pushes it into your hands. “Free of charge.”

“Thank you. I…” You look at Toji as though you’re about to say something more—but then a call of your name from across the school field catches your attention. Another teacher was waving you over for something- and with an apologetic smile, you’re bowing your way out of there.

Itadori whistles, “Wow, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad. Maybe if you hadn’t waited around bein’ a scaredy-cat then Ms. Teacher might’ve gotten the cookies before Todo.” 

Immediately Kugisaki gets down from the counter- grabs her rubber hammer, and slams it down on Todo’s head. 

Then before Toji can feel a rush of pride, she grabs two cookie packets and beckons him to crouch down to her height.

Once he does, she presses both packets to his cheeks and asks seriously. “And what are you?”

“A fuckin’ idiot cookie.” 

A small gasp.

From the other side of the counter, he hears furious scribbling as someone jots that particular word down—he doesn’t need to look to know that it’s that Inumaki Toge again. Nooooo—! It’d slipped out accidentally, he promises. Also on the other side of the counter was Todo Aoi who was now eyeing the other cookies enviously- Megumi frowns and starts pulling them away from him.

Itadori turns to Toji and shakes his head as though he’d been the adult in this situation. “It’s a shame, though. Phase Two has also failed - take the L, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad.” 

“L.” Kugisaki echoes.

“L.” Todo.

“L.” Somehow Toge.

Megumi nods. “Loser.”

And somehow that hurt the most—

He groans.

Todo huffs. “Can’t believe you just got framemogged by the TJE class monitor, old man.”

Toji whirls around with a glower. “Mugged? I’ve never gotten mugged by anybody-”

“But since you’re all just begging me—” Todo turns to the bemused others with his arms crossed importantly. “-I’ll teach you the true art of rizzing.”

.

.

.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE THREE: A DATE.

Status: -84834832849 aura.

A date.

Not one he’d asked you out on, of course. 

Spring had neared like a reawakening of the Earth; the breeze was warm. The Sun cascaded softly. The birds were twittering. And Fushiguro Toji was losing it—he had already had enough of making a fucking fool out of himself in front of you.

And now he was about to do it all over again.

Megumi’s elementary school was hosting a picnic with the kids in Ueno Park, in honor of the cherry blossoms beginning to open up. 

Parents were invited too, of course. 

And it was inevitable that you’d be there.

Now with that kid Todo - a student a year older than the trio, it seems he’d found himself attached to Itadori though Toji has no idea how that friendship started - onboard for the scheme, Toji was finding himself pulled around like a marionette. This ridiculous scheme to kinda-sorta try and make you fall in love with him…

That he was going along with.

So for the outing, the four had emphasized that Toji wasn’t to come unless he was looking his absolute best. They’d told him to burn that usual black t-shirt of his - no matter how many times he tried to insist that he had a wardrobe full of identical ones. He wanted Megumi to vouch for him, but the boy had lied.

That traitor. 

Thus on the Saturday morning it’d been planned; Toji spent a good few hours in front of the mirror.

Tugging back the sleeves on his white cotton sweater- he’d been told that people appreciate forearms more this way. Dousing himself in perfume. Putting on one of those face creams Kugisaki had recommended after asking her guardian. Attempting to tame his shaggy, black bangs. He made sure his biceps were looking good that day—and stuffed Megumi into his matching sweater as well n’ rushed off to Ueno Park.

He thought he looked pretty good, honestly.

Todo eyes him warily once he arrives, “…That’s the best you’ve got?”

“The hell’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just…not sigma-”

“Shut-”

A few parents turn to look at him.

“He started it—he—”

After certainly no small amount of bickering (and much apologizing from the woman that seemed to be Todo’s guardian), they managed to make it to the picnic area. Where a row of multi-colored checkered blankets were laid out across the green grass like some form of a quilt—Megumi wastes no time before waddling over to where Itadori and Kugisaki were seated with their families.

And before long, the three kids were tugging several blankets closer together and creating a larger one. 

As Toji sighs and stalks over to them—he’s suddenly stopped by Todo Aoi. Evidently having broken free from his guardian for far, far greater purposes; he holds his hand up and makes Toji freeze. “You have much to learn, don’t you, old man?”

“Haaah?” He balks down at the boy.

“True rizzlers don’t sit around playing teatime with kids—” He throws his arm behind at the other three, “-and my beloved brother, Yuji—” They were related?! “True rizzlers have to be tall and nonchalant even if they’re short and chalant.”

Toji eyes him warily. “…Okay? And what am I supposed to do?”

“Talk. To. Her.”

“How—”

“Go there-” Todo stabs a finger in your direction. But Toji didn’t need it to know where to look. 

He sweeps his eyes across the cherry blossom gardens- and his eyes seem to find you as they always do. Even in a garden of the world’s brightest and rarest flowers, you would be the most beautiful. 

“Brother eugh, you’re getting that sappy look on your face again- nonchalant. You have to be nonchalant!” Todo exclaims.

You were wearing a summer dress that fluttered around you in the soft breeze- and before he knows it, the little boy was pushing him towards where you were standing.

“W-wait—”

“Oh, has Phase Three started already?” Soon enough, Itadori’s voice is piping up right beside him. And he’s pushing Toji, too.

Then comes Kugisaki. “Ooooo they always have a cherry blossom episode! I love those.”

The dark-haired man looks to his son for help, and he pretends not to meet his eye.

Dammit.

“Fine—fine.” An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. Toji’s pushing back against their persisting guidance, and they just won’t have it. You’re going to notice him being made a fool again. “I’ll talk to her. Don’t rush me—I said don’t-”

“Why is it that every time there’s trouble, it’s got something to do with the five of you?” 

Too late.

With your hands on your hips, you’re walking over with a playful smile.

Though there was nothing playful about the way his heart thunders-

High-pitched giggles emanate from behind him, and he doesn’t have the time to compute before all three sets of small hands - and Megumi’s mildly disappointed stare - vanishes. The kids are running off, leaving the two of you alone, once you’ve properly walked up to them—leaving Fushiguro Toji to fend for himself and also…collapsing to the ground. Because of the lack of force from behind now, his ass hits the soft grass and you’re trying not to laugh from above.

Pretty hand reaching out, “Everything alright, Fushiguro-san?”

“Toji.” He somehow manages to blurt out, taking your hand and getting to his feet. “Call me Toji.”

“Of course.” And then you’re sharing your own first name. He repeats it like a spring breeze.

Then, like the fool he is, Toji stands around admirin’ you—long enough that the silence stretches a little awkwardly, and you’re starting to shuffle on your feet. He hears a chorus of small groans from somewhere behind him, and quickly amends- “Uhhh, do you like walks down cherry blossom paths?”

You’re raising a brow in faint amusement, “Yes?”

“Have you walked down cherry blossom paths?”

“Not this year.”

“Will you walk down cherry blossom paths?”

“Fushiguro Toji, are you asking me to walk together?” You bump his shoulder with yours, then loop a hand around arm - he felt like arm candy, but don’t save him—Toji was exactly where he wanted to be - and start walking between pink-shedding trees. “You should’ve just said so. Should we have invited Megumi as well?”

“Who’s Megumi?”

Your startled laugh echoes—and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

The two of you loop around the pathway and then back again in companionable silence; though questions and confessions constantly bubbled up to Toji’s throat. Are you having fun? Is his body too warm? Can you hear his heart beating? Do you like the cherry blossoms? Do you know you’re far more beautiful than them?

Why do you glance at him with that knowing smile? 

What secrets do you hide?

Before he knows it, the two of you have reached the spot where you met once more. And four eager children wait for something to happen- for something to be said.

Toji knows he might not get another opportunity—so as soon as the cherry blossoms are tapering out to more of the green grass, he’s turning to you and stammering. “I-I have something to ask…”

“Yes?” You smile.

“And it might be strange-”

“Yes?”

“And weird-”

“Oh, yes?”

“And creepy- don’t be afraid to say no if it’s creepy.”

“Huh?”

“But…” He feels the question: would you wanna grab coffee sometime? claw at his throat. Toji knows you’re waiting, anticipating—and then a cherry blossom flutters down and lands on your crown—making you look far too angelic. “Would you…happen to know that Japan is turning footsteps into electricity.”

You balk. “Excuse me?”

Toji whispers to himself faintly. “U-using piezoelectric tiles…every step you take generates a small amount of energy. Millions of steps…together…”

“Okay, old man, let’s get you to bed.” Todo’s - Todo, of all people - is coming to his rescue. Ushering him away, whilst his son hopefully manages to cover for his father with a good excuse—

“I do not know that man.” Megumi tells you, then leaves.

You’re left shrugging. Ah…

As they’re walking back to their picnic area, Kugisaki murmurs. “This is the cherry blossom episode. Next is the episode where you get hit by a truck-” Toji really hopes it is. “Guess this’ll be that sort of unfinished love drama…”

“My uncle loves hitting people with trucks.” Itadori beams. 

Megumi smacks his forehead once more-

Toji narrows his eyes. “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion if you keep doing that.”

The boy smacks his head even harder. “I hope so.”

Toji mutters to himself. “Fuckin’ me too.”

Behind him, he already knows that Inumaki is jotting this somewhere in some bushes. 

As the picnic continues—more and more of Megumi’s friends join their combined blankets. Toji notices you fluttering about, too.

So caught up, in fact, that he doesn’t even notice four matchmaking masterminds roping in their schoolmate Yuta into a deep conversation.

Toji sneezes- someone must be talking about him.

.

.

.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE FOUR: THE MARRIAGE.

Status: Toji, you’re scaring the huzzzzz-

It seems that Fushiguro Toji was getting married.

Though not exactly of his own volition.

And to whom, exactly? Well, that would be none other than you—

The wedding shall be held in the idyllic venue of Tokyo Jujutsu Elementary’s sprawling playground; amongst the swings and pieces of chewed-up bubble gum stuck underneath slides. Music shall be provided by the choir team. Snacks are Goldfish crackers and nothing more—you won’t want to miss it. 

Don’t bother to RSVP.

Invitations are open to no one, he’s bound to make a fool of himself.

Again.

Toji should’ve known that something was up the second Megumi told him to come for pick-up a little earlier than usual. Elementary classes ended their day with around fifteen minutes of playtime, before official pick-up commenced.

And though Toji didn’t mind coming in earlier - he usually staved his entrance off for the allocated time so Megumi didn’t have to play with his dear ol’ dad looming over his shoulder.

Something had to be wrong- maybe he was sick? And yet…Megumi was the type to never let out even a peep even if he was—he’d have to be dragged out of class and still try to convince Toji that he was feeling well enough to go back. He’d never leave hints like that.

Maybe he didn’t like playtime anymore? That certainly couldn’t be it- playtime always exhilarated Megumi, no matter how much his deadpan son attempted to hide it. He loved his friends. He loved the small rabbit pen that the school had. He especially loved the twin black-and-white wolf spring riders on the playground.

Or maybe…maybe he was getting bullied-

Toji shakes his head clear of that thought immediately.

He’d no sooner be bullied by his son than have his son be bullied-

In fact, before he’d met Itadori and Kugisaki- Megumi loved the playground for…very…different reasons. He’d pile his ‘opponents’ high like a small kid mountain. 

Toji shudders. 

So what could it be—?

That’s exactly the thought tumbling ‘round in his mind as he walks up to that multi-colored painted building. Instead of going up those steps, however, he’s rounding the corner towards the playground on the other side - where he could hear cheers, laughter, and shrieks. Those youngsters touched the air around them with happiness, and it made some part of Toji’s chest soar to think that his son was one of them.

That’s until he’s actually in-view of the playground and spotting you. Right in the middle of the chaos of elementary classes in playtime. 

At the foot of the slides.

A bundle of weeds in your hands

A paper veil atop your head.

With that kid Yuta from the grade above Megumi’s stood solemnly beside you. An officiant. 

It looked like…a wedding.

And the space in front of you was empty for your partner.

Ah.

He looks at Megumi who was avoiding his eyes- so this was the plan…

Fuck.

He must have made a noise of bafflement- because just then you’re turning and letting a smile splash across your face. You exclaim. “Ahhh—there’s my groom!”

Oh…oh, he might faint.

Toji feels numb to the small hands that tug on his arm- “C’mon, c’mon! You’re late, Mr. Fushiguro’s dad—!” And he’s being dragged all the way to the front of the slide, where his bride-to-be was awaiting him, it seems…“After this we need time for the divorce-”

“No, the divorce should happen like four episodes later.” Kugisaki rolls her eyes.

“There shall be no divorce.” The seven-year-old Yuta speaks above them - out of them all, he seemed to be taking his role the most seriously. And he beckons the happy couple closer to one another—fuck, Toji couldn’t even meet your eyes.

Standing in front of you, he stuffs his hands into his pocket and keeps his eyes trained on the ground- giving you a brief nod. “‘Sup?”

“On second thought, there may be a divorce.” Yuta solemnly declares.

“Hey-” Toji sends a glare at the black-haired little boy with the wide eyes, then crosses his beefy arms. “So are we gettin’ married or not? Chop chop.”

You shake your head fondly, “Don’t worry- we cut into rehearsal time for this, it seems.”

“Start the music…” Kugisaki whispers to Megumi…simply standing on the sidelines and sinking deeper into his bangs with every passing second. “The music—!”

Megumi lets out a sigh beyond his years, and clicks on the classroom speaker they must’ve brought from inside. 

In mere seconds, Stateside by PinkPantheress with Zara Larsson starts flooding the playground. Kugisaki hums to herself with a smile- “PinkPantheress n’ Zara always makes things better.”

Soon enough Yuta’s reading out of a scribbled notebook in his hands, “We’re here today to um- something about marriage.” He looks between the two of you—“Hold hands, please. They always do that in the movies.”

The two of you share a look.

And then you do.

Your fingers are warm n’ perfectly fitted in his - he doesn’t have to think to curl his own fingertips around yours. It’s as if his hands were made for holding yours—the thought zips through his body and he wonders why the hell he was getting emotional as though this was a real wedding…

Yuta continues, “-ummm, something about love.” Toji almost jolts. “Something about caring. Something about taking care of each other when you’re not feeling too good- like my momma always does, heh. She makes this chicken soup that-”

“Get on with it—!” Kugisaki hisses.

“Wait- what sort of chicken soup?!” Itadori pleads.

“That’s my rizzler! Toji bro—!” Todo cries.

“Oh, yeah—” He looks back down at his useless notes. “And stay together forever and ever and ever for at least 67 years no matter how far apart you are, or how scared of your feelings.” Yuta looks at Toji pointedly- who did this kid think he was?! “Does the happy couple have any vows?”

And maybe this was it.

Maybe this was his moment.

Maybe this was…

Toji’s scarred lips open. “I-”

Suddenly the speaker playing music explodes—not literally, though for a moment there it did feel like it. The dance-pop song that’d been playing inexplicably heightens in volume until their ears rung- and Megumi hastens to turn it down. 

Kugisaki smacks the speakers with her rubber hammer a few times before it stops. Then with nothing to play in the background, she elbows the pink-haired boy in his side—“Yuji, hit it!”

“Me?!” Itadori yelps, before noticing everyone’s gaze upon him. It’s slowly dawning upon Toji that this might not be the best place for a real confession when Itadori suddenly starts doing some confusing two-step. “You gotta go and I can’t…ehh, sorry. Uhhhh…Nepal. I just don’t want to say that-”

“Please.” Megumi drones. “Please stop.”

He stops.

Mutely, Kugisaki smacks the speaker once more and Stateside blares again.

Toji turns to the officiant- and shakes his head.

Yuta looks at you, “And what about you, Ms?”

“Oh—my vow is that you’re all getting extra homework if eeeeevery single one of you doesn’t dance to the reception tomorrow.” You look at each and everyone.

Small faces scrunched in glee.

Yuta hisses at Itadori. “Time for the rings—the rings!” And the pink-haired boy startles to hand them to him- just a single one plopped onto Toji’s open palm. It was one of those cheap ring pops; still slightly sticky and encrusted with flecks of strawberry candy from before. The actual candy part of it had been very-obviously eaten…

“Sorry.” Itadori still smiles. “I ate it.”

“And the…other ring?”

“I ate that, too.” He excitedly claims, “Plastic and all!”

“I…love whatever’s wrong with you.” Toji furrows his brows. “But also what.”

“Enough talk—exchange the rings then vow your undying love!” Kugisaki yells. “Then die!” She turns to some of the other kids looking at her strange- “What? I don’t mean it like that—the drama’s just better when they die. Where are you going- where are you-”

“Scary kid.” Toji comments. “But sweet. But scary.” 

Megumi distances himself from everything.

Before long, Yuta’s announcing that they ‘exchange’ rings. 

You mime putting one on him.

From the sidelines, Todo sobs into Itadori’s t-shirt—seriously, were they actually related or not?! “Marriagemaxxing already…I’m so p-proud of you my rizzler…my brother in rizz…my sidekick…”

He jerks. “Side—”

Yuta speaks. “And do you, Ms. Teacher—take this auraless man to be your husband?” He can already tell who came up with this officiant’s script- but before he can throw a glance at the trio and Todo, you’re nodding.

“I do.”

Toji feels his heart flutter. He grows warm.

And his fingers are just as tender and sweet as they slip that ring pop onto your left hand—“Then I announce you married- uh. Smooch?”

“Euuuuuuuugh! Gross-” Megumi wails.

If Toji thought that he’d been warm earlier—then he wasn’t prepared for right now. It feels as though his entire body was on fire from the inside; every vein, every cell, every single part of him that hummed with delight at the notion. That made him blush.

So embarrassingly, as though this was his first-ever crush.

Toji catches your eye- and you give him the briefest of nods. 

And then he’s leaning in…he’s hearing your breath catch- and pressing his lips to the back of your hand - just the lightest of grazes, where the ring pop stood out - before pulling back just as quickly. Nothing indecent. Nothing that would give away anything to you—

That ring…

It tasted sweet on his lips.

The surrounding kids cheer- loudly. Now it seems that everyone in the playground had joined in on this little act—and that’s exactly what it was.

Just a little act.

Toji’s lips quiver with the beginnings of a sentence he’s been aching to say for so long-

And then the school bell rings denoting time for pick-up.

Around you, the kids run to their classrooms and their backpacks - excited to tell their parents about what they’d just done in the playground. And as the sea of small bodies moves and thrashes against the two of you…Toji just remains standing. Staring. 

Something within him still unfinished and unsatisfied—

You’re keeping his gaze for a few more seconds, before finally dropping it and unscrewing the plastic ring from your finger. “I uh…sorry about that- and thank you for playing along.”

“Yeah…” He faintly says. “Yeah, no problem.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile. “And if you don’t mind, I should probably…”

You gesture to the parents that had started walking in now, and he jerkily nods. “Yeah- yeah, go do…that.”

“Yeah, I…” You’re then holding your hand out to him- nodding at him to keep his palm open. Then dropping the strawberry-scented ring pop into his hand. “Guess the divorce came a little sooner than expected, huh?”

“Two seconds, that’s a new record.” 

Starting to walk back—you briefly wave. If he was a cockier man, he’d have called you nervous. “I’ll see you at the talent show, ex-husband.”

“Hopefully sooner, ex-wife.”

“Oh- yes, the upcoming parent-teacher meetings.”

“That…” Toji murmurs to himself. That too, he supposes. 

And as he watches you leave…Kugisaki is the first to speak up. “Not even a date? Awww man, I hate slowburns.”

He gapes, “I uh…”

“No, he got scared of his feelings—” Itadori adds. Toji squirms. “Did you know my uncle says he doesn’t have feelings? My grandpa agrees.”

“Dad.” Megumi pulls on Toji’s t-shirt to get his attention. 

“Yes, son?”

And so deadpan, so unexpected- “You fumbled just like Klay Thompson.”

Dammit, son.

Speedwalking to the school with them. “The fuck just happened?”

That one he mouths- he mouths. But Inumaki writes that one down fast-

.

.

.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE? CURRENTLY ON HOLD…

Reason: Parent-teacher meetings.

Status: Dire. Auraless. Megumi doesn’t claim him.

Will the plan have to be abandoned?!

“So.”

“So…” You’re twiddling your thumbs together on top of the desk, eyes trained on Toji whilst his own dart around the colorful classroom. “Megumi’s such a good kid- honestly there’s nothing more to say about him.”

Because today was the day of parent-teacher meetings; that half-an-hour where parents sit before you and leaf through crayon drawings and mathematics that made them cringe. Toji himself hadn’t been the biggest fan of them when Megumi was younger—why the fuck would kindergarteners need parent-teacher meetings?!

But now that his teacher was you…

At least it gave him something even more to look forward to.

So he sets his elbows on your desk and leans in—every meeting had been conducted sitting on opposite sides of your teachers’ desk. It was far too much proximity for his poor heart to take—but you sure as hell won’t hear him complaining.

Not a single peep.

He glides his roughened fingertips over the pages before him- Megumi was never the type to be cagey about his grades. And either way he did get everything above an 80%. 

Toji tries not to let the tips of his lips twitch upwards into a smile—especially as he looked over one of the artworks that Megumi had done: a slightly-smudged drawing of three small figures, one with pink hair, another with a brown bob-cut, and then a portrait of himself. 

And then two larger figures on either side of them

Toji and yourself.

The prompt had been Megumi’s family…

“You should be very proud, y’know.” Your gentle voice breaks through the quiet air in the classroom. 

Toji had come slightly after the other parents, as organizing Megumi’s little sleepover at the Itadori household (with Kugisaki and Todo in tow) had been absolute chaos. Today they’d offered to take the children in because apparently Itadori had gotten some earthworm movies he’d wanted to share. And though Megumi didn’t seem particularly excited at the prospect of earthworms, he’d been begging for weeks to have this sleepover. 

Now. The sunlight dipped beneath the horizon outside, casting the classroom into its warm embrace—like kindling fire. The light bounced off your features and touched his lips, too. Where things were perpetually encased in day and the hours were hot and lazy—like the leaping spark from a fireplace. 

For the first time in a long time, Toji lets himself smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

You’re nodding with a smile- “He speaks about you a lot, did you know that?” Once Toji shakes his head, you’re continuing. “About how strong you are, about how you’re funny—” Your nose crinkles, “-but an awful cook.”

“Hey!” Toji squawks, indignified. “I try.”

“I know.” Something about that felt so knowing. “It really is a pleasure having Megumi in my class- he’s quiet but I think Yuji and Nobara are slowly bringing him out of his shell. He’s diligent. He’s quietly kind. He’s a sensitive kid, he notices things faster than most.”

“I’m sure he gets that from me.” He smirks.

You hum, staring at the blood-orange sky outside. There’s a long pause before you speak again—“And I think it’s sweet how he’s trying with his friends to set the two of us up.”

Toji’s jaw drops.

Actually drops.

For a moment he’s speechles—hell, he thinks he might be speechless till the end of time. Sure, he’d guessed that you must’ve noticed something being off…but he never thought you’d actually realize the two of you are being set up—!

You catch the look in his eyes- “Oh, c’mon. You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice, did you?”

“I uh…”

“The cookies. The wingmanning. The wedding. The plans-” Stifling a laugh. “Elementary schoolers aren’t very good at whispering, you know that?”

“Damn.” Toji fists his hands, softly thumping them against the table. “And here I thought a bunch of elementary schoolers could fix my love life…”

You hum—something coy in your tone. “Why don’t you fix it yourself?”

And Toji’s snapping his head up so fast that he thinks he might’ve caught whiplash-

“Would you…” He swallows. He starts off unsurely. “…maybe…like to get coffee sometime-”

“Yes.”

Barely waiting till the sentence flies off his tongue before you respond- it makes Toji wonder whether you’ve been waiting for this as long as he has. 

Embarrassment shows in your slightly-frantic movements, as you start picking at the stationary on your desk and smoothing out your clothes. Nervous. It hits him. “I uh…you’re my last meeting of the day, actually. I’m free to grab some coffee now, if you want?”

He’s never agreed to anything faster in his life.

Less than twenty minutes later and the two of you have found yourselves in the cute new coffee shop down the road. The faintest memory of sugary goods still etched on your smiling lips, and your cups of drinks warming your hands—the two of you were sitting and talking at a window booth when the rain had started.

“Oh, shit…” You peer outside. “You were right.”

“Hm?” Toji takes a sip of his black coffee.

“The weathermen always lie.”

More than the panging warmth at the idea that you’d remembered a throwaway comment he’d said- was what you’d followed that sentence up with.

“Hey, I know this is out-of-the-blue, but…I don’t have an umbrella with me, and taxis are costly this time of evening.” You shift in your seat, avoiding his eyes for perhaps the first time since he’s met you—“My apartment’s close by if you’d wanna maybe grab an umbrella from there? You could even hang around until the rain subsides, if you want…”

This time, it’s his turn to reply embarrassingly fast. “Fuck yeah.”

And so you’d ran.

You’d ran hot on each other’s heels as though someone was chasing you—maybe fear, maybe your inhibitions, maybe the feeling that Fushiguro Toji wanted to kiss you so badly.

So bad. 

You’re sploshin’ the five-minute walk it takes to reach your apartment- before you’re both darting inside and closing the door to the world. Just the two of you. On opposite sides of the narrow vestibule connecting the entrance to the living room. To your bedroom.

Toji presses himself against the cream-colored wall and breathes in. heavy.

This entire place carried your sweet, sweet scent—and it was driving him crazy. 

In front of him, your hands seemed to absent-mindedly reach for the umbrella holder- blindly clasping around one polished handle. “I uh…”

“You-”

You’re both attempting to speak at the same time—then abruptly stop when the other speaks. You gesture for him to continue, and he does the same for you-

“I just meant- here’s your umbrella.”

“Thanks.” Like a zombie, he’s reaching out and clasping it. 

This was it—this was really it.

He was about to leave.

He was about to wake up from this dream.

Before Toji’s letting the umbrella drop to the floor- and you’re both crashing into one another. It’s built and built—and the coil of tension had tightened and tightened before finally snapping—!

Lips against lips.

Tongues against teeth.

His lips sliding against yours and positively ravishing you—one of his large hands finds purchase on the back of your head. His warm touch. Toji feels the pretty pulse on your neck quicken as he tips your head back and delves his tongue even deeper - memorizing the taste of you to every crevice in his brain. 

Your essence…he wants it imbued into him.

Absolutely starving.

He just couldn’t get enough of you.

He just couldn’t get enough of you.

The two of you are making out sloppily- and the sounds of lips lifting from lips permeates your entire apartment. Punctuated occasionally by the hollow grunts that Toji himself was letting off. 

Your cunt twitches between your legs - and you’re pressing yourself into Toji even further. Pushing against his toned body. Rolling your hips against the raging, hot erection that’d found itself home in his pants. Just the sheer size of it- the thickness, the way it throbbed against you was enough to make you let out a soft, simpering nose.

One that he’s gladly swallowing up whole—greedily, even. Because that’s exactly what he was.

A fucking greedy man for everything that’s to do with you.

And he’s waited for far too long.

In no time, you’re taking him by his larger hand and pulling him to your bedroom. Leaving the umbrella and your reservations behind. 

Toji lets out a hallowed groan as he’s being pushed back into the bed- the backs of his knees hitting the mahogany bed frame. Your hands flying to the ties of his trousers. Your own knees striking the floor—

“Easy there…” Toji brushes one hand down the side of your face- reaching back into your scalp and tightening. “Don’t want my girl to get hurt.”

“Your girl?” You grin. “You haven’t even asked me out on a proper date yet.”

“And you should be buyin’ me dinner before this. Lecher.”

You’re huffing as you’re able to tear that wretched fabric off his muscular legs- finally. And your jaw…drops…

He was so…

Fucking big. 

From the moment his achin’ cock’s freed, Toji springs out and seems to pulse even thicker—the start of his base reminding you of one of those soda cans. Toji reaches down to wrap his other hand ‘round it, his palm covering some of the dark curls decorating his pelvis, and he seems to look even bigger when framed like this.

Rock-hard. Covered in numerous veins.

They were dappled all across his inches and throb-throb-throbbing- so ravenously hard that Toji’s length twitched the moment he’s feelin’ the cold bedroom air. 

And not only was he big, but that curve of his shaft was delicious.

It made you wonder what it’d feel like to have him curve up inside…

Upwards tilted. That crown of his craning up at the ceiling. The pointed end of his cock ended off with his blushin’ mushroom tip- so fat n’ already soaked in his wads of sopping precum. The color of it was the prettiest tannish pink you’ve ever seen in your entire life—and so you really couldn’t help but lean down and press a chaste peck-

The taste of his salted-caramel pre takes over your tastebuds immediately.

“O-oh…” Toji’s head throws backwards with a gravelly groan. “Don’t go teasing me now, doll.”

“You’re the one that’s been teasing me this entire time.” You counter. Though you’re loosenin’ your jaw and taking him in even further. Inch by solid fucking inch.

It’s hard to stuff Toji’s cock all down your throat like you so-badly wanted- he was big. N’ those zig-zagging veins down his length made you want to linger…massaging the roof of your mouth with a few semi-gulps that rub his inches on top. Again and again.

You’re shuttering your eyes and moaning deep into his shaft at the carnal scratch he somehow seemed to soothe.

“Ah ah—” You’re hearing him before you’re feeling him- suddenly, two thick fingertips are pinching your poor nostrils together. Eyelids flapping open to stare up at him.

Toji has the most cocky smile across his beautiful scarred lips as he peers down at you. “Now what’s this about refusin’ to take me anymore?” He asks you, punctuating the that of his sentence with a thorough nudge of his bulbous tip down your throat. “You don’t wanna take me any further, doll? Or you…”

And another.

Though, this time, it wasn’t a nudge at all.

And Toji’s massive length is pushing apart the wet walls of your throat- and mazing his throbbing cock inside. The noises you’re letting out when you slurp him up are so pretty—

And the older man uses his second hand to wipe a stray tear off your cheeks, “-can’t?”

“Mmm–mmmfg.” Choking down both your needy sobs n’ your breaths. You’re clawing at his thicks- so thick and toned. 

“What? Whaaaat?” He pinches your nose even harder. “Wha’s the matter, teach?”

“You-” Barely able to mangle out some semblance of coherent syllables - you’re going cross-eyed trying to both take him in deeper, and look at the fingers blocking off your airway. “Mmm- ngh.” Whatever mess of a sentence that was meant to be, it’s coming out embarrassingly jumbled.

Embarrassingly so.

And tears are just starting to stream down your cheeks- your cunt’s getting even wetter at his actions and pushing against his toned calf- once he finally lets go. Finally. 

With a loud pwah! you’re removin’ your swollen lips off of his cock. Feeling for your poor nose that’s startin’ to sting—“So mean, Toji. I should’ve bit that dick off.” You joke.

He looks at you with a leer, “We both know that out of the two of us, you’d be the most disappointed with that.” And it was true- it really was true. But Toji takes it a step further by lazily reaching his calf over and pushing it against your cunt. Dripping wet even through those panties of yours- your pretty dress was hiked up n’ already exposing that sweet puddle that’d formed in the middle of your underwear. 

His mouth waters at the sight. 

“See what I mean?” Then Toji straightens up and pats the top of his manspread thighs. An invitation. 

“But, I haven’t even…”

“S’okay.” He nods at you reassuringly. You didn’t have to worry about any of that needing to please shit with him- he’d be the one driving you wild tonight. “I have something even- heh, sweeter in mind.”

And hopefully every night after that.

In a mere few moments, you’re settling yourself on Toji’s lap. And then he’s attacking your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss, tongue swipin’ between your lips before ultimately sucking on those tastebuds of yours. Sucking. Like candy. 

He then maneuvers the two of you to then drape you across the sheets; slightly sodden with lust and perspiration. The blankets stick against your clammy skin as Toji presses your hips down on the mattress- “Down, girl.” His fingertips dig into the side of your waist.

“What’s that about not teasing?” You pant.

With a low chuckle, Toji presses a peck on the left side of your hips—then creeps himself down until his handsome features were huffin’ and puffin’ against your sodden cunt. His own hot breath seemed to reach out to you—curling, cloooouding, it seemed to stroke down that watery slit of yours. “Fushiguro Toji never teases.”

“You’re teasing right-”

“M’just waiting for the perfect moment.” And there’s not a second wasted- before Toji lurches himself nose-deep between your legs and gives your dripping pussy a good lick!

“O-oh…” Your mouth waters at the brazen touch- body jolting just a little. Though if you thought that Toji would let you so much as squirm whilst he’s locked between those thighs of yours, then you’d be sorely mistaken. His fingers dip down the expanse of your legs and clutches you close against his ravenous maw—“Aren’t you going to take off my panties, Toji?”

“Don’t be vulgar, doll.” He mutters- just to tease you. “M’gonna eat you through your panties, of course.”

And it’s the only warning you’re getting.

Before Toji latches his puckered lips to your cunt- properly, this time. And his loooooong tongue was lavishin’ across every inch of your pussy he can reach. Through your panties—Toji gapes his mouth open and laps like a fuckin’ animal at the leaking slit your underwear was stick to, your swollen folds, your utterly needy button. 

“Mmmmpf-” Toji’s prominent nose pushes apart your pussylips, and he’s feelin’ for that puckered, pretty nub. Already throbbing like you’ve been so impatient for him this entire time.

He presses himself closely against your clit for a few seconds—throb-throb-throb!

Like a ticking time bomb. He’s driving himself absolutely wild; before snakin’ your panties to the side and thrashing his tongue against your raw cunt. Slurping. Sucking. Everything and anything of you he could find - he’s pushing himself so nose-deep into your pussy that he damn-near can’t breathe—and eating you out like an animal. “Mmmm, don’t you move a s-single inch now.” Toji tightens his hold on your quivering legs. “I haven’t even started yet.”

“Started what…?” You babble out - your hips were yearning to push off the creaking mattress.

Though all it took was a fraction of his strength to pin you back down, roverin’ his tongue on the slick-glued insides of your folds. Rooooound and round in circles that left your mind dizzy. “Heh- what else d’you think?” Toji answers. “M’teaching this pussy how to take Fushiguro Toji, that mouth of yours barely could.” 

“Rude.”

Before you could pipe up anything more witty, he’s spankin’ four fingertips down on your glistening pussy. “S’not rude if it’s true.”

“I’m the teacher here, though.”

“Then maybe I’m the principal.” He leers- swabbing the fat edge of his tongue into your hole. “Gonna grade you and everything…”

“That’s fuckin’ corny—”

“Made your pussy weep, though.”

And just in good time, too- because almost immediately he’s letting that first inch of his tongue fuck inside your cunt. Just the first inch. But it was already enough to make your toes curl n’ your back arch—Toji’s wet muscle was just so thiiiiiiick.

He’s pluggin’ up your orifices with a mere few thrusts - the ridged texture of his tastebuds kneading your tight walls. Shovelling you open. Shovelling himself deeper inside. The flickerin’ tip of his tongue laps against some of your most tender areas n’ then pushes up into the sensitive roof of your cunt- 

“Sh-shiiiiit—” You’re keening out in the prettiest trill he’s ever heard. Toji has the audacity to let out a wet giggle at your dripping core - clenching ‘round him.

His ears burn at the musical note- and before long, your folds are burning at the searing smack! that he’s planting on top of your cunt. Your head drops down to stare at him in shock.

“That’s a C- for handling yourself.” He echoes. Two more spanks follow—before Toji nuzzles your gummy pussy n’ laps his tongue across your clit. “But an A for pretty moans.”

“I th-think that grading syllabus is a little- ngh! skewed, don’t you think?”

Yet another spank.

“Not at all.”

He was merciless. Ruthless. 

Absolutely impounding you with those slashing, scouring strokes of his - Toji’s thrusts manage to reach so much deeper than you’d have ever guessed. And when he felt that his tongue was stuffed inside your pretty pussy far ‘nough, he’s flaring those edges outwards and scraping his tastebuds down the sides of your walls. Stimulating your snug channel sooooo fuckin’ good—

“S’that so?” Toji flutters his long, dark lashes up at you. It takes a second for you to register that you might just have said that last thought out loud. 

Though you’re merely steeling your expression and nodding-

He’s plasterin’ his fingertips against your puckered pussy with a chuckle. “Cute. But flattery’s gonna get you nowhere- with all this damn squirming you’re doing, your C’s dropping down to a- haaaah, D.”

Your eyes pop open. “B-but…”

“And just think-” Toji continues without a single speck of mercy for you. His tongue’s tunneling and thrusting- faster than your frenzied mind can keep up with. “-that if you’re reacting like this to just my long tongue…” Thrust after thrust after thrust—the curvaceous inches of his tongue don’t leave a single bundle of nerve unprobed. Zig-zagging and swabbing wildly - your eyes are rolling to the back of your head. “-yer gonna fucking run away when it comes to my cock, doll.”

“Oh—” You’re tumbling your hips constantly up to him. Attempting to heighten the friction. “Promise I won’t. Promise-”

“And now look at you.” And after all he’s taught you…Toji grasps his left hand underneath your arching body. Grabbing a nice handful of your ass cheeks- it makes him smile to watch your mouth drop in shock at the lecherous action. “Dropped down to a D-.”

A fucking minus.

That earns you several more wet spanks. And then a fucking pinch—right on your clit. 

And Toji merely trundles, “Where the fuck does this pretty pussy think she’s going?”

Crashing his lips into…yours. Quiverin’ your weakened limbs around the back of his neck- 

Your ankles are weakly latching themselves there- slightly glissading down his glossy strands. It messes up his hair just a little, and Toji’s soon finding himself smirking against those pussylips.

“Tch…fine, you get a B for neediness.”

Only a B?!

But perhaps it was better that you’d kept your mouth shut - mostly because you couldn’t speak over the primal moans that kept escaping your throat - because then Toji’s sinking his canines ‘round your clit and swervin’ his face aaaaaaall around your pussy. Every corner and inch.

He’s fucking coating his features in a layer of your shimmering slick.

Like a damn medallion.

It clings to him in long, ropey excess. 

“O-oh my god—” And then your trilling vocals break the very second that he’s intruding your hole once more- this time, with his fingers…

You weave your own hands into Toji’s sweat-dampened hair and hold on for dear life. 

“Hmmm, a little possessive, huh? M’bumping that neediness to a- hah, A+...heh.”  As a reward, you’re getting his textured lips encasing your sopping clit—just so desperate and damn-near flinching with how hard you were pulsing between your legs. Needing. Needing. 

Your breath comes out in stuttered bursts, and it takes everything in you to echo. “A-and what do I have to reach to- mm, get your cock, Toji?”

“I dunno, aren’t you the one with a t-teaching degree?” He’s babbling- before that haziness in his eyes clear up once he realizes what he’s just said. “No, wait—I’m pretending to be…I’m the one gradin’ now…”

Toji looks down at your pussy as though offended. A spank wasn’t enough, he’s properly spitting. 

“This pussy’s made me pussydrunk, heeeeh?” He scoffs n’ edges in to suckle on your clit—all while his two bulky fingers were scissoring between your pussylips. “An A+ for that…”

Pussydrunk.

Though you’re not doing too well yourself.

You’re just sizzling from the very insides - even your very vessels seemed to be vibrating with that carnal sort of needy for him. And as Toji’s slashing strikes with his fingers accelerate, so does that kindling pit of pleasure in your stomach. “I th-think m’close, Toji…”

“Close?” Toji’s breath hitches. “Close? And we haven’t even finished the grading yet—buck up, doll, because m’not holding back anymore.”

“Th-that was you holding back?!”

Evidently so. 

And you can surely attest to that—in mere moments, he’s adding in a third finger with a lecherous slurp! of his honed inches bein’ all sucked in. Down every single joint. Down to his damn knuckles; you’re feeling those mountainous ridges push up against your sensitive pussy, and Toji’s three fingers were rovering and reeeeeaching every single spot inside. 

Claiming them as his. 

Toji laps up a silken line of slick that’d dripped from your cunt and down his wrist—you were claiming him as yours, too…“Got a second to hear your grades, doll?” Whilst the desperate pleads start to bubble at your throat- “Won’t be given’ you this cock until you do…”

“Then tell them to me—” You shriek. Haaaauling at the thick tufts of his scalp, “Fucking tell them, Toji.”

“Well, manners fuckin’ F.” Toji huffs- but he couldn’t fool you. Ohhh, the expression on his face was pure ecstasy as you guided his lapping face around your cunt. “But manners for this pussy…hmmmm…B.”

“Only a fucking B-”

“Roughness: used to be C- but oh, m’thinking it’s now an A.” He comments - the more and more frustrated you become, the more your carnal urges surface. Your grip is searing on his scalp. Your legs are locking around his neck. “Doesn’t mean you can go easier on me now, teach.”

“Fuh-fuuuuck, Toji—”

“Wetness: A+ of course.” Rolling his eyes as if that should be obvious, “Sweetness: A++.”

“Fuck-”

“That mouth of yours? D.”

“Fuck you.”

“M’trying to. And hmmmm, about the way she clenches…” He ponders- before then directly diverting his round, rotund fingertips to the spot just a few inches into your channel. He’s already mapped your smallest ridges n’ crevices out by all of these thrusts- and you’re feeling pure white-hot pleasure run down your spine as Toji then rams his dexterous fingers into your fucking g-spot. “That’s an A+++”

Because of course, you’re keeping him hostage.

Of course, you’re squeezing your velvety walls around him until his joints were turning white—and Toji’s fingers were havin’ a tough time moving back and forth stuffed between those clingy walls of yours. 

And yet…he’s scissoring apart your needy grip and rammin’ into your deepest, most sensitive depths. 

Again and again and again- “Yeah…this pussy’s definitely gonna take me now. Isn’t that right, teach?” But the only thing your fried head can urge you into doing is nodding. “Tha’s what I thought. Dumbification: A.” Toji cocks his head. “Don’tcha think I’m being too nice with these grades?”

Shaking your head fervently- through sobs.

“Mmmm…well, I think I am.” His canines teasingly grip your clit and draaaaag that swollen nub out. “S’alright doll. After this, you can grade my cock when s’time…”

He smirks - still keeping that firm attachment onto your most sensitive place - and you can feel it. You can feel it—

“And you can be as fuh-fuckin’ ruthless as you want.” Toji’s long fingers then curl inside your cunt for a final time before…“Because I know m’gonna be fucking my girl right.”

Before you’re shattering.

Breaking into your high—it first starts with an explosion of pleasure between your legs- before teleporting right up to your fuzzy head. Your thighs were quaking. Your pulse was thundering so loud you could hear it with your own ears- and it felt as though those torrential waves of bliss were just taking you over.

“Oh—oh, fuck.” Clawing your hands through Toji’s hair. The only anchor you had was this- and the tunneling digits that were fingering you to ecstasy- he was hitting at every peak. He was elongating your orgasm more than you ever thought possible. “Fuck, fuck, fuck- fuuuuuck, Toji.”

“Tha’s right- say my name.” He grunts. Such lecherous slurps! echoing from between those legs of yours as he sucked n’ sucked on your clit simultaneously. “Say my name- say my name. Who’s making you feel this good?”

“Toji.” You hiccup. “Y-you, Toji.”

A sudden spank! resounds across all four corners of the room.

Your high crescendos even further than your limits- or at least what you’d assumed them to be. 

“I was lookin’ for sir, but that works, too…” Your jaw drops at the boldness of this man. 

“Sir? D-don’t think that you’re getting off easy when I- ngh, when I finally ride you stupid.” As the last few pangs of your orgasm shimmer through your body, you’re managing to gather your thoughts better than before. “What do you think you’d get anyway?”

Toji pulls off your oversensitive pussy with a loud plap! “A’s across the board.”

“Oh, don’t be so humble.”

With that said- you’re reaching out and grabbing Toji by the collar. He gets dragged upwards—the bed dips as the larger man cages you in with his strong forearms. He leers, “I think you pass, don’t you?” You could see that somewhere during makin’ out with your pussy, Toji had tugged down his pants- likely to jerk himself off as he did so.

And his long cock stood aching and rock-hard between his legs.

That round, reddened tip of his seemed to wink up at you as he dribbled out a single bead of precum. Aaaaall the way from the edge of his cockhead, and aaaaaall the way down to his bushy black curls at the base. 

Your mouth waters. 

Hands on his body- his fingers tearing through your own fabric. Soon enough you’re naked beneath him—and he’s just as devastatingly bare. Perfectly-aligned abs. Chiselled pecs. Fushiguro Toji had a body that made him look as though he was hand-carved by Hercules himself- it was just so sensual the way his ladder-like core pushed down against yours.

And it’s so difficult to keep a stern face facing him when those bulky biceps of his were flexing—right next to your face. 

But somehow you manage- you were a professional after all, weren’t you?

“I’m serious about what I said on riding you stupid.” You’re murmuring up at him, “Flip over.”

He smirks, “And if I don’t?”

Within split-seconds, you’re grabbing a fistful of his hair and watch as his cock twitches at the rough manhandling—at the way you’re turning the two of you over and straddlin’ his hips. Toji bucks with a groan underneath you, but you’re quicker than that- and you’re clasping a hand around his gulping throat. Sweaty and scorching to the touch .

“Ah ah-” You tut. “You already had your fun. Now it’s time for mine…”

“Aye aye, teach.”

“Quiet coyote.”

Toji mimes zipping his lips shut—but there’s openin’ back up again almost instantly once he feels your sultry hips swivelling down his cock. You duck a hand underneath yourself to grab his throbbing hilt- and before long, his wet tip’s smushing apart your pussylips. He’s intruding that hole of yours and bucking up into where you needed him the most. 

He shovels in a few more inches with an echoing sluuuurp! of your pussy viciously gulping him up.

“What did I…oh.” Beside yourself, your head’s throwing backwards at the sheer pressure he was creating inside. “What did I say about staying still?”

“Actually…you didn’t say anything about that.” That grin of his was infuriatingly handsome. “Still, mmm, cockdrunk?”

“You wish…” Though that wasn’t an outright denial.

It was true that your mind was coiled with fog after your last orgasm; the dopamine still coursing through your body. And the way that Toji’s thickened, textured length was pushing your walls aside wasn’t helping—it was making you feel sensations so raw and carnal- that saliva’s dripping down one side of your mouth after a mere few semi-thrusts.

Just the bulging edge of Toji’s tip scourin’ your channel inwards.

“Awww, don’t tell me I was right?” He asks you- and it registers as mere distant words. Toji reaches out his right hand and wipes away that splatter of spit - before bringing it up to his own mouth and sucking. What an animal. “Can’t grade ol’ Toji’s cock? Or is it- heh, so good that I’m breaking all the scales?”

“You fucking-”

“Yeah yeah, wish- right?” He scoffs meanly. But honestly…he might be teasing you but he was completely infatuated with the idea of your smart mouth babbling for him like this.

The way you were twitchin’ with every light graze of his flared tip.

Your insides were getting used to him, and Toji was only stuffing himself even deeper. “Right…” Though of course- Toji himself wasn’t doing all too hot. Just a single one of your adhesive-like clenches and he can’t help but buck—

“Easy, eeeeasy- you can take me, my girl.” He grits his teeth. He blinks back the tears in his eyes. He’s guiding your impatient hips n’ grinding your cunt dooooown onto his pelvis. “Fuck- fuck, and how d’you grade the stretch?”

Your eyes pop open. “The stretch?”

“Mhm- the streeeeetch—yeah?” Toji’s chest rumbles in delight as he watches your every microexpression and reaction. Even the smallest curlings of your toes. “Such a big stretch feels good, yeah?”

“Mhm- I rate it a…” Your jaw hangs open- as though to purposefully influence your grading, he’s shovelling his length a few more times. Faster. “B.”

And that…what the fuck?!

“A fucking what?” That makes Toji’s maw gape, and his handsome face twist into something of bewilderment. You look at him and you honestly let out a little chuckle - but that seems to only spur his driving hips even further. “Oh noooo, doll. You’re joking.”

“I said what I said.” Biting back. “It’s a B because…” Throwing your head back and arching—you’re gaining more movement in your hips and letting him push inside. “-you’re just not- fuck. Bottoming. Out. Fucking do it already—!”

His feet plant ever-so-slightly on the ricketing mattress- and that means you were feeling the plushness of his muscular thighs against your back. Those tendons and rippling strength. There’s honestly nothing more for you to do but gnaw down on your trembling lower lip in the hopes that those embarrassing noises won’t escape-

Because Toji then glues his hands upon either side of your hips and slams your cunt down onto him.

It’s such incredible friction. It’s so many of his winding veins- pushin’ apart your walls and scouring you all over—

You’re arching your back into him and gasping- “A…”

“A what?” 

“A for your veins.” And that honestly manages to catch him off-guard and make him let out an exhilarated bout of laughter. Being in your presence was like four shots of espresso—fucking you was four shots of vodka. Straight. He’s dizzy and he’s clamorin’ his numerous inches up your pretty channel, watching as you drip glittering globs of slick all ‘round him. 

“Oh…” Toji seems to grow even bigger inside you. He grips you as hard as your pussy was clenchin’ him. “Keep going-”

“And a- fuck, an A for your pace—” Just perfect. Dizzingly fast; whilst still being steady and balanced enough that you were able to feel his textured length slipping into every spot he needed to slip into—“And a…a fucking F for your attitude.”

“Hey…” Toji juts his scarred lip out in a mock-attempt at a pout. “Don’t imply m’sassy when your pussy speaks like that to me.”

Right on cue, you’re letting out some of the most sinful slurps as your cunt slaps right down onto him. Onto his hefty balls. 

Toji’s thick brows raise at the sounds- even he didn’t think that your pussy could get this chatty. Mouth falling agape as he watches you drip-drip-driiiip.

You’re grabbing onto both of Toji’s sculptured deltoids for balance, increasing your pace as your legs start to grow limp. Perhaps noticing your little struggle, he’s supporting one of your legs with his left hand—and thumbing over your clit with his right. “And then? What else—dick got yer tongue?”

“You fuckin’ wish.” You snipe back.

“Yeah.” Toji simply replies. Without a single warning, he’s craning his head up and signalling you to open your mouth- instinctually, your tongue sticks out. Perfect for him to spit—a heaping mess between your lips. “You looked so pretty with my cock stuffed down your throat, too.”

Grumbling - though it was just for show - yet you swallow. “That was a B- since you almost missed.” One of your hands reaches up to swipe at the splattered saliva piled on the edge of your mouth.

“Oh, no.” With such a loving glint in his eyes, he’s leaning up and kissing the mess he’d just left behind. “That was totally on purpose, doll.”

“F-filthy…”

“You know it, teach.”

Both of your bodies were slick with sweat and glissading against one another- Toji himself was especially frenzied with his movement. His thrusts. His battering rams. The way his pointed tip struck the end of your cervix—bottomed-out, and then smeared apart your channel to drag aaaaaaall the way back down. Aaaaaaall the way back in.

And through it all- you’re sputtering out the same ruthless grading of his cock. Red-hot and ruining your insides with every thrust. Pump after pump- “Deepness…B.”

Bruising his tip’s circumference at the very back of your pussy. Dribbling out ribbons of pre. 

“Hmmm, alright a B+.” Pleasure runs through your body the more n’ more Toji grows irritated- because that meant the more he was trying to prove himself. The harder he was fucking you. “And the- hah, curve: an A.”

“Damn right.” That, he could most certainly be proud of. That slightly upwards curve of him was the perfect shape to mold your walls- to let his honed tip be the searchlight.

And your sweetest spots were what he was aiming for.

After a few more vulgar strokes, Toji’s rediscovering and ramming himself into none other than your g-spot. That throbbing bundle of nerves that’d just kept on and on waiting for him to probe you with his shaft—perhaps a bit too long at that…“What took you so long to find that spot again, Toji?”

“Take it easy on me…” He pleads with a slight hint of amusement. “Your pussy was to- mmm, hypnotizing. You can’t blame a guy for taking a little time…needy fuckin’ pussy.”

That last bit was said to himself- underneath his breath, in fact.

And yet, your proximity means that you’re catching onto every single word - and without a split-second of hesitation you’re countering back. “Oh? What was that…I’m sorry, maybe I was- hngh, hearing things? Because it just sounded to me like you wanted all your g-grade to plummet to an F?”

His lips part. “You wouldn’t…”

You peck him on the mouth. “Try. Me.”

And fuuuuuck—it’s clear he’s not expecting the way that sends pangs of excitement coursing through every inch of him. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to fucking do with himself- once he propells his ruddied cockhead to hit against the door to your womb.

And Toji’s thighs are left shivering at the way your walls immediately rush to embrace him.

Suctioning him.

A ribbon of drool drips slowly from the edge of his mouth, “A-and what do I have to do to make it up?”

“Hmmmm?” The fact that you made the Fushiguro Toji stutter so blatantly like this…it was driving you wild. It was making the cockiest smile plaster across your face- he wanted to kiss it away so bad but you were teasingly inching your lips away, making him work for it. 

He growls and repeats- “What do I have to fucking do to get- hah, extra credit? To make up for my…” Toji’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs. “-mistake.” 

“There now. Was that so hard to- hah, admit?” You coo. “Gimme a D.”

“Huh?” Toji gapes. “Aren’t you the one supposed to be- ngh, giving out the grades?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just telling you to shut up and fuck me harder with your fat dick—”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He lightly stirs his hips in semi-circular motions to get the most out of his veiny cock- to make sure that those prized n’ precious vessels were massaging your insides just right. “Fuck-” Your entire upper half is shaking from stimulation - “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck—just like that.”

“Hngh, oh yeah?” Honed canines beared.

“Faster-” And he listens.

“Harder.” And he listens once more.

“Fucking-” You’re it escape you in a trilling tone. “-b-breed me…”

Toji’s breathless once the words register to him. “Yes, ma’am…” 

Pumping up into you - meeting your bouncin’ cadence - like he was angry with you. Like he was trying to shove to your deepest depths n’ then probe his erect cock even further. Like he was trying to meld your bodies into one—

He was fucking you in a way that was so animalistic.

And Toji can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help but throw his head back—it just feels so good. Eyes shuttering. Brows furrowing. His hips unsticking from the now-dampened bedsheets to arch properly up into you-

But that’s when he feels those familiar fingers ‘round his throat again.

“Ah ah ah—” You tut. Your vision was just a little bleary from all the tears and pleasure clogging up your mind- “And who said you could- hah, move, hm? Seems like you’re the one running away, not me. What? Scared m’gonna milk you too hard, Fushiguro Toji?”

He growls. “You little…”

“F- for handling yourself.” Remembering just how much he’d teased you earlier for similar reactions just made these words so much sweeter on your tongue. “In fact…”

Toji looks eagerly up at you through his bangs.

To which you’re taking your lazy time changing your sloppy cadence into figure-eights instead. It swerved n’ stirred his pussy around your depths; and made it so that the most sensitive parts of Toji’s veins - that pinkish line underneath his slit, the frailest of his veins, where his balls rested - were being stimulated. Making him pour out wads of precum into you as though it was a waterfall—

“See me after class.”

“Fuck yes.” Toji grunts to himself- his hair was flying into his face, and every bit of his skin seemed to be furiously flushed. “Fuck—fuck, I need to cum inside you.”

Plap after plap after plap! of his hips hitting yours. “Mhmmm—”

“I n-need to fill you up until here-” His thumb briefly detaches from your clit to graze your lower stomach, where your womb was wont to be. “I need to feel it pouring out of you- then fuck it all back in.” And he was pistoning into you like it, too.

“Shit, m’close-”

Hard. Fast. The wads of his sappy precum only get stronger and more frequent - “I n-need to…”

Toji’s voice hatches into nothingness in his throat, and you’re cooing down at him cutely. “What’s thaaaat?”

“Need you to make me a f-father for a second time.” Toji utters.

And then with a particularly hard press on your heart-shaped, swollen clit—you’re both tumbling into your highs together. Tumbling into one another as you both hold each other through your strong orgasms - even stronger than the one you’d had prior.

Zaps and twinges of pleasure. 

Goosebumps dapple across your skin.

Your spine arches into him. 

Now you have Toji’s ravenous cock bulging into your walls- his globular tip searchin’ for every sweet spot and pinpointing them using his shape. That only elongated the sparks of your high until it felt never-ending; and dopamine washes over your body and leaves you wracking. Hands clawing down wherever you could latch onto the older man. Your knees squeezing tighter around his waist to milk him through his own euphoria. “Yes—yes, just like that.”

“Oh…oh, look at the way m’dripping out of you…” Toji’s mouth unfastens. Your cunt had already been bloated around his cock- now with his volumes of cum being webbed up inside, it was almost too much for you to handle.

And Toji’s orgasm rips through him strong—even his powerful limbs were wrapped around you as he powered through it. His thumb tremblin’ as he rolled and rolled.

He breathes out hot and heavy when those fingers of his dare to wonder…right along where a sheen was spreading along your inner-thighs. Every satiny drop of cum he was pouring out gets slid down your cervix- and then trickles deep inside of you. “So messy, this pussy o’ mine.”

“Yours?” You gasp. Though even that tiny reaction meant you feel his warm wetness splosh! inside you.

“Mhmmm—” He nods drunkenly. Left arm wrapping behind you and pulling you to him - resting you against his chest. “But don’t worry…this cock is yours, too.”

You scoff. “The audacity. Didn’t I give this cock an F?”

“Yeah, you sure did give me a fuck.”

You decide that the only way to shut up him is to overstimulate him by fuckin’ him—perhaps unfortunately for you, Fushiguro Toji seemed to have had the same idea.

“Mmm, now what about the parent-teacher meeting? We already- oh, handed out the grades, didn’t we?” He’s whispering in your ear once he’d somehow manhandled you into a doggy position. Sculpted abs pressed against your spine. Beefy arm wrapped around your throat in a headlock—

“T-to say what?” You’d wheezed out.

“That m’not done fucking this pussy pregnant.”

.

.

.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI’S (and co.) FIVE-STEP PLAN TO MATCHMAKE HIS FATHER AND HIS TEACHER—PHASE FIVE: 𝕲𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖚𝖕…

It’s so over.

Today was the day of the talent show; and Fushiguro Megumi had never felt more untalented. 

And no…it wasn’t because of any of the other competition—if he had any idea how these things go, at the end they were going to say that everyone won and everyone gets a prize. This was elementary school, after all. And he was quite grown up. 

Anyways—the point is his, Itadori, and Kugisaki’s magic show had been quite the hit amongst parents especially.

And that wasn’t why he was feeling untalented. 

It wasn’t because Todo’s PG-censored version of a Megan Thee Stallion song had been honestly…quite good. It wasn’t because Yuta’s puppeteering act had been something that’d drawn endeared laughter from both kids and parents alike. It wasn’t even because of the act that was happening right now…where Inumaki was standing alone on center stage with a notebook opened up in his hands. The last act of the night.

The rest of the show had gone swimmingly.

Inumaki was a bit more of the quiet type, but at this moment he speaks into the mic loud and clear. 

“For my talent today, I am going to read out vocabulary words taught to me by Fushiguro-san. Thank you Fushiguro-san!”

The audience coos and turns to try and find the aforementioned man.

From his position peaking-in from backstage, Megumi watches his father pale from the first row. And then sink deeper into his seat.

Deeper.

And deeper.

And deeper-

“Bud.”

Though the rest of the audience nods in sweet endearment- Toji’s damn-near jumping out of his seat in surprise. That was…clearly not what he had been expecting.

Not at all.

Inumaki continues.

“Cookie.”

And Toji has gathered enough bravery to…perhaps properly sit up in his seat. Clapping along with the other parents- looking around to make sure that he wasn’t just hearing things. And this was actually what Inumaki was reciting.

“Concussion.”

That one draws some admiring sounds. Such a big word for such a small kid—good on Fushiguro Toji, right?

He might just be safe…

“And divorce.” That one draws mixed reactions- but Inumaki closes his infamous blue notebook, and Toji lets out a sigh of relief - one that was nearly audible backstage. 

Along with the rest of the parents, he can whole-heartedly start clapping now. Maybe even throw in a cheer or two.

Let the audience know that he was the mastermind behind such academic advancements. Yeah, maybe they should pay him.

But Inumaki wasn’t done yet.

“And my favorite yet—” Which one was it? Which other important vocabulary word had Toji so graciously bestowed upon this kid? Which other aspect of his life had Toji alleviated by the sharing of precious, precious knowledge? Inumaki firmly grips the mic. “Is fuc-”

Megumi leaps onto stage and snatches the microphone out of Inumaki’s hand before he can complete that specific word…

But the implication must have been evident either way, because then each set of eyes turns behind to the black-haired man. And glares. Toji flips them off. The applause is more polite than willing now. Then he decides that he’s never showing his face ‘round here again, he’s never stepping a foot through those damn multi-colored doors if it fucking kills him, he’s never—

Just then, you’re stepping onto the stage and graciously taking the mic from Megumi. He’s so back.

“Hello? Is this thing on?” You chuckle into it. 

And Toji…Toji knows. He knows he wouldn’t mind being thrown a dirty look from every single person he meets- so long as you’re there to spot him out in a crowd. Tugging his son close to you—as you beckon all the other kids on-stage and start your speech.

It’s mostly thanking those that made it possible; the parents, the staff, and especially the students. Toji isn’t quite ashamed to admit that he’d been too busy drowning in your gorgeous tone to even register your words—

Expectedly, you were telling the kids that everyone won - and Principal Yaga had been called on-stage to hand out prizes to every one of the kids. And as Fushiguro Megumi holds his prize - a custom trophy with his name, a certificate, and a bunch of art supplies - he’s suddenly remembering why he’d been feeling so untalented.

It had been a week since Phase Four of the mission to get you and his father together. And it had been a few days since parent-teachers meeting and Toji had come to pick him up the next day, smiling dopily.

Megumi’s sure his father’s losing his marbles. 

And he has the strange, sinking feeling that after tonight- they’d either forget about the plan or abandon it altogether. Feeling so hopeless—it’s so over.

“Hey, Fushiguro…” Itadori not-so-successfully whispers to the black-haired boy, ultimately drawing attention from whomever was around the two of you. “Fushiguro, isn’t that your dad coming up the aisle?”

“And why does he have such a big bouquet of flowers?” Kugisaki adds on.

Though…once Toji reaches the foot of the stage everything becomes very clear.

Because with a hand coming up to your mouth, and the spotlight shined on you, he lovingly hands you the plush bouquet of roses from below. Roses. Red, red roses.

With a silent thank you—you’re kissing Toji on the cheek.

Every. Single. One of their jaws drop-

Inumaki starts scribbling something down in his notebook.

Yuta sticks an approving thumbs-up.

Even some of the parents in the audience whisper to one another - most nod approvingly. 

And Toji catches Megumi’s eye to wink. “We’ll talk later.” He mouths.

Megumi nods mutely- excitement thrums through him so fast that his fists clench—and Itadori has to clasp onto them. They succeeded? They really, truly succeeded?

His eyes are glimmering as he turns to Itadori and Kugisaki- both nodding excitedly in agreement. They couldn’t squeal like they wanted to right now with Yaga’s speech droning on in the background, but after…after, they had a loooot of questions for the new couple. 

Together; they loop their arms together in a silent victory.

They’re so back.

Though being silent was never something for Todo Aoi.

Yelling. 

“Fushiguro Toji rizzed Ms. Teacher before GTA 6—?!”

Status: W. 

A/N. Honestly AHAHAH- this was so unserious.

"What's happening?" You huffed at him, attempting to reclaim a fraction of your dignity despite him seeing you in far worse states than this before. He'd held you when you were disheveled, thighs pinned to your chest as he prepared you for things you were supposed to do with your future husband one day. With sweat sticking to your forehead and your body shaking, face scrunched up with pure pleasure from his nimble fingers and tongues. He didn't even react at your obvious worry, watching you swallow hard as the panic still freely pounded in your chest, holding onto his strong forearm to steady yourself. "Where are we?"

He smiled at you, letting go of your side to caress your cheek, your heart stupidly fluttering at the gesture you both knew he shouldn't be doing. Not when he was meant to stand guard for you.

You were his duty. His life.

He was only ever supposed to be a supporting role in yours.

"Somewhere safe."

“Safe?” You echoed, blinking up at him without understanding.

“I brought your favorite books,” he murmured, softly stroking your hair as he looked down at you. “And more of those paints I got you last year for your birthday.”

“But why are we-”

“Your parents were about to sell you off to a brute,” he grimaced, even when he was speaking to you so tenderly. Dark eyes hardening as they narrowed just enough to let you know he was serious.

"He wasn't-" You started to protest, thinking back to the single time you'd actually seen him at a banquet a handful of months ago. Sure, you hadn't spoken directly to you, not when you were so closely supervised, but you watched him from across the room.

There were men far worse than that.

“He would have just used you for heirs while he slept with half his court,” he dismissively scoffed.

But, wasn’t that you were meant for?

A pretty tool to be purchased as a means for peace between kingdoms?

You always knew it would happen to you. The arranged marriage, having heirs, living in a foreign place with no friends.

All your manners classes, the rigid rules you'd spent your life learning, they were all leading up to this.

You were born to be a queen.

"I can't just run from my duty," you murmured, reaching back up to drag your thumb over his defined jaw, attempting to soften the blow of disappointment. He must've spent a long time preparing this place for you, ready to commit treason just to do what he thought was best.

Forever your knight, always thinking of you when you both knew that the feelings you harbored for each other would never amount to more than the handful of nights you'd stolen together.

"And you can't expect me not to do mine."

Your mouth hung open, not sure what to do with his defiance. Just staring at his unchanging expression, resolve etched into every strong line of his face while your hand fell from it.

“This is for your own good,” he promised, leaning close enough to press a chaste kiss to the top of your forehead. “You’ll see.”

You hadn't seen three months in.

He wouldn't let you leave.

Refused to budge even when you begged with your best set of puppy dog eyes as you asked about how your family was doing, if you'd been declared missing, what was happening back at home.

His jaw would always clench, dark eyes swirling as he cupped your face and told you that you worried too much.

Solemnly swore your parents weren't even looking for their missing princess.

No, apparently, they'd just sent someone who looked enough like you to not arouse suspicion to the prince you were meant to marry.

Suguru dried your tears with kisses, dragging his tongue over the damp spots they left, his honeyed voice reassuring you that no one could replace you to him.

An imposter was out there in your place, pretending to be you, and you were in a tower trying to find the positive in this...monotony.

It wasn't like it was so terrible being trapped here with him.

Homemade meals. No more awful meetings or balls you were forced to attend. Nights spent in the warmth of Suguru's body with no fear of getting caught and condemned for what your heart wanted.

The days drifted by lazily. Napping in your bed. Reading the books he brought you. Painting by the small window.

Pacing your floor when the minutes started to drag, counting how many steps it took to get from one side of the room to the other. You even started to teach yourself how to sew, although you had to practically plead with Suguru to bring you the supplies for them.

The tower itself was cramped. Your room led directly out to a spiraling staircase, with uneven stone steps and a nauseating drop down the middle. The steps widened as you went down, but you'd barely been able to bring yourself to make it further than Suguru's living space below yours.

It was bigger than yours, but more...quaint, you supposed?

Rickety wooden furniture. A thin blanket over his bed. A single table with two chairs for you to eat with him.

He knew you hated heights.

So Suguru usually ended up coming to you instead.

A picnic blanket spread on your floor. Flowers freshly plucked from the forest below. A candle lit like it made this romantic.

And despite your determination to convince him that you could both still return to the palace, or even start a new life in a quiet port town somewhere, you were the one starting to crumble under his coaxing.

What was so great about your old life anyway?

No one could make you do anything up here. For the first time, your life was now yours.

It took you another year to realize your life was actually his.

Well, considering you lost track of time, you could only guess it had been a year. Watching the seasons come and go, leaves falling off the trees and snow capping the branches until the weather warmed again.

There was only so much painting to pass the time you could do before everything became boring.

Staring out the window waiting for something to happen, Suguru's hand on the small of your back while he delicately brushed your hair off your shoulder.

There weren't any scissors for you to trim it with. Not a single sharp item left anywhere within reach. He refused to entertain the idea of chopping some of it off either, insisting on taking care of it himself, toying and twirling the ridiculously long strands down as they cascaded over your worn dress.

It had always been long, but whatever was in the food he'd been feeding you had made it grow far faster here, trailing along the floor wherever you walked. He brushed it out for you, washed it and dried it while he made excuse after excuse not to cut it.

"Let down your hair, princess," Suguru called out from below, and for a brief second, you considered telling him that his joke wasn't funny - even though you suspected after another year or two, it might really be long enough to reach the ground. You stared down at him as he shielded his face from the sun, a hand on your hip as your brows scrunched together.

"Come inside," you shouted, struggling not to frown as you watched him walk out of your line of vision, a basket slung over his shoulder, probably with food from the closest town - not that he'd ever let you see it for yourself.

No, he locked your door when he left.

Kissed your forehead and promised to be back as soon as possible whenever he had errands to run.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to make it back up to your door, the keys clinking as he unlocked it from the outside, swinging it open with a loud creak as you refused to look back at him.

"How's my beautiful girl?" He murmured as he approached, lips grazing against the shell of your ear while his hands traced your frame.

"I'm getting sick of being up in here," you half-whispered as you confessed what had been plaguing you for weeks, your voice raw from how little you'd been using it lately. "Can't we go to a village? Just for a day? We could wear disguises or-"

"No," he firmly said, pressing a kiss on your collarbone as you let out an annoyed huff.

"Please, Suguru," you whined. "It's been so long-"

"I'm not taking any risks when it comes to you," he scoffed a little, as if you were asking him for something absurd.

"Didn't you say no one was even looking for me?" You tilted your head to the side, pushing out your bottom lip like it would make his impenetrable resolve finally fracture.

"Anyone who saw your hair-"

"So cut it," you stomped your foot, swallowing hard as your lashes fluttered up at him.

"No," he repeated, refusing to budge.

His fingers were already unlacing the back of your dress, making quick work of loosening it while you struggled to come up with an argument that might sway him just for him to spin you around to face him.

Could you somehow convince him to take you on just a single outing?

Was it truly too much? Were you a moron for wanting more than just this?

Your dress was falling by your feet before you could think of anything - and his mouth was on your throat to make sure you wouldn't be able to.

Kiss after kiss pressed against your skin, lips tantalizingly skimming along the tendon until his teeth were grazing over your jaw. His hands making their way over your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he suddenly hoisted you up.

Carrying you back to your bed, careful not to step on your hair as he continued to pepper you with his gentle affection.

"Did I not make it perfect for you here, princess?" He purred, tenderly placing you back down on the soft mattress, making sure to drape your hair off the side. His own was falling in his face as his mouth slowly traveled down the valley of your breasts, across your belly button and pausing just below it to peek up at you. "I try so hard."

He did, didn't he?

Suguru had risked his head just by bringing you here. Did his best to make sure you weren't wanting for anything - that you wouldn't go without the luxuries you'd be lavished in your entire life.

Couldn't you just be happy for him when he was working so hard for you?

"I know," you muttered softly, guilt creeping in while his soft purple eyes bore into you. "I just-"

"Want to throw away everything I've given you for what? You'd rather hang around some peasants than me?" He grumbled, stare narrowing as he pushed your thighs up against your chest, like he had some point to prove.

"No, that's not-" You started again, but then his fingers slipped inside you, two thick digits digging deeper to stretch you out - and shut you up.

"Not what?" He dryly mocked, cocking his head to the side, well aware you would't be able to answer as he shoved his fingers deeper, dragging them against your walls.

"Don't be mean," you hissed at him, chest constricting as your lungs squeezed in time with your cunt. Unable to breathe when his digits felt like they were forcing all the air out with each consecutive thrust.

"It hurts my feelings when you want to leave me," he said, but his condescending tone didn't exactly lend any credence to what he was saying. Still, your heart stalled anyway, mind instinctively working to win him back.

"I don't want to leave you," you argued. "Just here. For a little bit."

"For a little bit," he sarcastically echoed, an anxious pit opening in the bottom of your stomach as you shook your head.

"Suguru," you whined, wiggling your hips as he drove those digits all the way in, working you open with an almost clinical precision.

"What, angel?" He hm-ed, knowing exactly what you wanted - and pretending he didn't.

You knew you should be mad. Put your foot down and demand that he take you out. But when he was looking at you like this, his fingers dimpling your skin and his mouth pampering you, you couldn't bring yourself to do either.

No matter how much you missed the sun. Smelling fresh flowers in your garden. Talking to a stranger instead of someone you knew every damn detail of.

"Come on, Sugu, would it be so bad?" You tried to charm him, but he just clicked his tongue.

"What do I have to do to keep you happy, hm?" He asked, sapping your strength without even trying. Drawing it out with every fast drag of his fingers. "Fuck you until you forget about these silly ideas?"

He pulled his fingers out, mouth pressed in a thin line just for him to tug his pants down enough to free his cock.

It bounced up against his shirt, pre-cum leaving a stain on it before he wrapped his fist around his thick base.

Watching it bob as he got back on top of you, one hand still pressing your thigh down to keep you open as he nudged his fat tip against your entrance.

His chin tilting up as he started pushing in, his jaw flexing as his shoulders tensed, testing his own self-control with each inch he slid inside of you.

You used to think your knight was an expert at restraining himself.

Back when he'd keep a straight face during banquets despite how often you'd pester him about sneaking away. Composed and collected until he finally got to claim you in private.

And now, he'd stolen you.

Turned your dreamy little secret into a reality that had started to stretch towards a forever.

You were still reaching up for him, tangling your fingers in his dark hair while he reached up to softly stroke the top of yours. The weight of him pressing down as he drove his cock in further, making sure to fill you up until he was fucking every thought that wasn't about him out of that pretty head of yours.

"My princess doesn't know what she needs," he murmured, his voice thick with hunger, all dark and dangerous as he dragged you down with him.

"I need you," you whispered, voice cracking when he abruptly bottomed out, his tip smushed against your cervix as your mouth parted in a broken gasp.

You needed him to let you breathe a little. To understand that you couldn't just spend eternity in this little world he crafted for the two of you.

But none of it actually came out.

Just more messy moans, your fingers clawing at the blankets while he just thrusted into you again and again.

The bed whined under your combined weight, your thighs trembling as his hips smacked down into you. His mouth was colliding into yours, sucking on your bottom lip while he wrecked you without hesitation.

Trying to ruin you.

Rip your heart out to have for himself. Hold it hostage too.

"Maybe I should put a baby in here," he grunted when the kiss broke, his breath warm on your cheek as he gritted his teeth. Stare drifting down to your stomach with a determination you knew you should be scared of. "You wouldn't leave our baby, would you?"

He knew exactly what to say to get to you.

Which strings to pull to turn you into his perfect puppet.

No better than a plaything. A doll to be dressed up in his very own dollhouse.

"I-I-" You stammered, but shit, when he was stuffing you so full, you couldn't find enough sanity left to string coherent words together. Left writhing and whimpering as his cock rocked and rutted into all your favorite spots.

"You what? Want one?" He teased, your heart hammering faster at the idea of actually being pregnant.

Carrying his child while you were still confined to this room.

Would he be so overprotective to confine you to the bed next?

"It's okay if you don't know," he cooed, his soft voice pitching lower while the hand on your thighs slipped down so he could have fun with your clit next.

Massing it with intention, drawing rough circles over the sensitive bud while he clicked his tongue at you again.

"That's why I have to take care of you," he continued, pressing down harder, his cock pistoning back in with more force, making sure you didn't even have the air in your lungs to tell him that you didn't need to depend on him.

You loved Suguru.

But the only way he knew how to love you back was to suffocate you. You knew you were his world. He just had to make sure he was yours.

Perhaps you were a fool for thinking that you'd be able to find a way to express that to him. To change a man who already made up his mind.

"I love you," you started, swallowing hard as you tried to gather your focus enough to get the right words out this time, get him to see your side.

But then his lips were connected with yours, barely parting enough to breathe, "I love you too."

His hips slammed against yours harder, his fingers working faster, your stomach tied together in knots as the pressure pushed you to a precipice you knew you'd fall from.

"C'mon, princess, cum for me," he groaned in between kisses, swallowing your moan as your body unravelled for him in a bright burst of pleasure. Stars you sorely missed splotching across your vision as you scrunched your eyes shut, feeling him buried to the hilt as something warm started to fill you up.

Had he-

"I hope it's a girl," he muttered, half-collapsing on top of you. His forehead pressed against yours as he sucked in heavy breaths, his cock still throbbing as his cum leaked out inside you. "Or twins."

"Twins?" You echoed, dazed as you blinked up at him.

"That should keep us busy," he smirked, one corner of his mouth curling up higher than the other as he refused to pull out. Still lodged deep inside you like he wanted to make sure his seed took.

He readjusted you, pulling your legs down so he could lay on top of you fully, his firm chest pressed against your softer one, his calloused fingers caressing your cheek as he looked at you with that lovestruck stare you'd grown accustomed to.

Had it always looked so sly?

Or were you starting to piece together something you missed once the haze of sex started to dissipate?

"I'll always keep you safe."

As your lover? Your knight? Your warden?

You still weren't sure which when you woke up the next morning. The smell of sex and sweat still sticking to your skin as you rubbed your exhausted eyes and rolled over with sticky thighs.

The left side of bed was empty.

Only a warm spot where Suguru was supposed to be. Had he gone to make breakfast? Perhaps decided to spare you of more discussions of raising children in this lonely room?

You pulled the covers up to your chest as you sat up, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you stared at the ghost of your past life in the form of furniture and books you used to enjoy before you read them a hundred times.

A piece of paper was left on the nightstand, a small note you supposed Suguru must've written for you, neat letters informing you that he'd be out for the day and he left meals pre-made for you on a tray outside.

Maybe on a different day, you might've found it sweet.

But an idea sprouted in the back of your head, blooming quickly enough that you were scurrying over to your dresser to find something to throw on, hurrying to get dressed before opening the door to find the tray he mentioned.

Instead of taking a bite, you just brought it inside - and slipped back out.

Bracing yourself for the long walk down, holding your breath as you crept down the stairs, a lump in your throat that seemed to get larger with every step you took.

You refused to look at the bottom.

Slowly making your way, attempting to remind yourself that with each step you took, you were another one closer to a way out.

It wasn't like you wanted to run away.

Not really.

You doubted your family would take kindly to you returning. Especially not if their unwed princess came with the unexpected baggage of a child they'd consider a bastard. With a man of no noble blood or important background.

But you were sure that you'd die if you didn't get some fresh air soon, wither and rot up there in your single-windowed cell.

The end came into sight - the last stair just a few feet away, your feet scampering down as your excitement started to bubble over, your head snapping up to the-

Door?

There was nothing there.

Just stone walls with no way in or out.

Was it magic? Some seal on the outside that stopped anyone else from intruding on something they shouldn't?

You were simply stuck.

And you sincerely doubted any prince would be coming to save you.

a/n: feel kinda meh about how this one turned out but hope you guys enjoyed anyway <3 reblogs + comments always appreciated

He watches you as you take out the trash in your little white shorts, your too-tight top hugging every curve. He wonders if you're doing it on purpose. If you know your tantalizing nipples are poking through the fabric. That your thighs are an invitation.

Nanami finally decides to go to your door. He crosses the hall and knocks on your door.

You get up and open it, surprised. Your hair still a mess, your half-naked body, that little blue top that hides nothing, your too-short shorts that reveal the tops of your full thighs.

"Hey, Nanami. What's wrong? Do you need help?" you ask, wondering what he wants at this late hour. He looks you over, slowly. Without restraint. He sees your hard nipples, your still-rapid breathing, your thighs slightly clenched. You're dressed like a slut... in your own home. But he wants to believe it's for him.

He wishes it were for him that you're dressed like a little slut so he can rip them off and fuck you like you deserve. He leans over the doorframe and looks down on you with his tired eyes. He couldn't sleep with your slutty moans and screams. And your creaky bed banging against the wall.

"I hear you every night. I can't sleep because of you." Embarrassment instantly burns your cheeks and your heart skips a beat. You thought you were quieter than that and that you could be heard slightly... It's so embarrassing. "I'm so sorry, Nanami... I really didn't mean to keep you awake. It's... so embarrassing."

"Mhh, of course. How are you going to make it up to me? My sleep has taken a hit, doll." What did he call you? 'doll'? Shit, it strangely turns you on. Besides, he's everything you want in your bed. Your neighbor is your fantasy personified. He is and has everything you dream of in a man. Your legs are slightly trembling with excitement.

"So no answer? I expected better from such a slut like you." He sits up and looks you up and down, noticing your thighs clenching. He smiles. You've never seen him smile. He's sexy when he smiles.

"Sorry, Nanami." Your voice is soft and slightly flirtatious. "How can I make it up to you? I'll do anything to make it up to you." You look into his eyes.

You stare straight into his eyes, searching for the slightest reaction. A slow, carnivorous smile stretches his lips. You feel the sexual tension rising between you, palpable, electric.

He takes a step closer and closes the door behind him. His immense body is facing you.

"As you wish, baby."

That nickname again. It resonates within you like an intimate command. You feel your stomach tighten, your pussy react, dripping wet. Your legs almost give way of their own accord. And as if guided by an external force, you slide to your knees, your eyes raised to his.

"Is this how you want to make it up to me? Interesting." His hand slowly comes to rest on your hair, possessive, heavy with meaning. Your fingers slide unashamedly along his sweatpants, to the taut swell of his cock.

"Shit..." he breathes and bites his lip to keep from moaning at your mere touch. He's so turned on because of you. You can see the dark stain of precum on his gray sweatpants. You can't help but smile. You have such an effect on him? He's so needy. It turns you on even more.

"Do I turn you on that much, Nanami? I wonder if you've ever touched yourself on me? While I was getting fucked by someone else..." you ask with a slight, flirtatious smile. He doesn't answer, but his face responds for him. He did it, but how could you blame him? Your moans were so pathetic and sexy that his cock reacted on its own.

You get comfortably on your knees and feel Nanami's cock through his fabric. His cock feels so big, thick, and hot. You can almost salivate over him without even seeing it. After a few touches, you gently push him back until he's leaning against the door. You lean forward, letting your breasts escape from your top so he has a perfect view of you.

Your hands grab the elastic of his stained sweatpants and let them fall to his feet. Your gaze lingers on his black boxers, stretched taut by his cock. Your lips kiss his entire length through the fabric, all the way to his leaking tip of precum. Your hands cling to his balls and play with them. They're so heavy and hot. You feel even wetter.

"Stop playing around, darling. Take that shit off." His voice is deeper, almost raspy. His impatience makes you smile.

You obey slowly, sliding down his boxers, finally freeing his cock. It slaps against his stomach, imposing, then your face, and stands up proudly. You stand there for a second, staring at it.

It's so big and thick, as you guessed. It's decorated with pretty veins along its length, and its tip is red and looks angry. It's so obscene.

"How long has it been since you fucked, Nanami? Your dick looks like it hasn't seen anything but your hand in a while." you ask provocatively, your eyes shining with excitement. You notice his eyebrows furrow slightly. "A long time."

You suspected it, but how does a man like him not get laid? He's clearly the fantasy of many women, and even men; he wouldn't have too much trouble finding someone, especially for one night. "How come?" you ask, looking at him and rubbing your thumb in slow circles over his red, swollen tip, spreading his precum over his head.

"I'll tell you if you make me feel good, darling."

He gently strokes your hair, as if to encourage you. You nod obediently. You collect his juices with your hands, spit in them, and begin to slowly masturbate him. Even with both of you, you can't even cover his entire length.

He moans slightly. You feel his pelvis jerk. He's starting to lose patience; he wants more of you. He wants to feel your wet little mouth around his cock.

"Put your fucking mouth in there, slut. I can't wait. Please me, okay?" His voice is raspy and hoarse with pleasure. Yet, his smile is cruel, but irresistible.

You let him guide your head, offering it up, you open your mouth wide, your tongue brushing against its tip, the salty taste of his pre-cum already tingling your taste buds. Then, slowly, you take it down your throat. Inch by inch.

Your mouth is hot and wet, almost devoted to him. You suck it in hungrily, your throat contracting gently when he pushes your head a little further. You continue to look at him, he groans, his head tilting back slightly, and bites his lip at the pleasure you're giving him.

His cock is so big that it spreads your lips wide, making your mouth water in anticipation. You feel it vibrate under your tongue, its veins pulsing, its tip gently pressing against the roof of your mouth. "Fuck, you have the perfect mouth for this... Shit, baby."

He lets his fingers cling to your hair. To encourage you to take him deeper and follow the movement of your head along his cock, the hungry back-and-forth of your lips around him. And you don't take your eyes off him.

Your eyes fixed on his, despite the tears beginning to roll down your cheeks with each deep thrust. You want him. You want to hear him moan your name, feel his body tense, for him to fuck your throat until he comes.

You hollow your cheeks, intensify the pace. Your tongue swirls around his length, then traces circles around his head before taking him back in your mouth with more voracity.

You feel your saliva forming and running down your chin. You pull away and smile. Strings of saliva connect your mouth to his cock. It's a slobbery, sticky mess.

Nanami looks at you and smiles. He would have liked to take a picture of you. You look so pretty right now on your knees, your cheeks flushed and your pretty eyes watering, sucking his cock like the pretty whore you are.

You put your mouth back on him and slide your hands under his heavy, full balls, gently massaging and caressing them. You feel his grip on your hair tighten. "Watch me while you suck me, slut."

You look up, your mouth full, your gaze fixed on his. You can barely see him because of the tears, but you know he's a mess. You hear it in his hitched breath.

His soft hand slides down your cheek and wipes away your tears of pleasure. You look so pretty there, on your knees, your slutty expression on your face, your lips swollen and red, your throat tight around his cock, soiled by your desire to make him cum.

He chuckles softly, a grin on his lips as he feels how much you struggle to take him fully even though your jaw hurts. You're so devoted to him it makes him laugh.

You feel Nanami's cock throbbing against the hollow of your cheek. He's about to come, you can feel it. His hand tightens in your hair and his muscles tense.

You compensate for the inches you can't take with your hand, squeezing his base, your throat still full of his cock, your movements faster, your saliva dripping everywhere, your vibrant moans resonating against his skin.

Nanami groans, guessing your intentions. His hand grips your hair tighter and pushes your head back with his length. You hear his heavy breathing and the curses he utters into the air. He doesn't want to come now.

"Stop...fuck, baby, you almost had me." His breathing is heavy. He lets his head fall back for a moment, his chest heaving with his agitated breath. His muscles are tense. "You've been such a good girl, but I can't come now. Not until I make you come and fuck you."

You stay there, on your knees, your mouth still half open, panting, slightly frustrated. Disappointment washes over you. You wanted to make him come, for him to fill your mouth, to taste the cum you'd fantasized about so much.

But now, another desire grows within you. It's the desire for him to take you. You want him to turn you over, fill you with his viscous cum, and mold your walls to fit his enormous size. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand, tilt your chin up, and look at him.

Your eyes meet his. He's excited. He wants you so much he can't get out of your mind. You sit up slowly, your body still trembling from the position, and approach him. Your hands rest on his burning chest.

"Do what you have to do then?" Your voice trembles, halfway between desire and want, you were on the verge of begging him to take you until you couldn't walk, think, or speak. You wanted it so much.

He didn't answer right away. He looked at you for a long time. And instead of speaking, he smiled at you. A smile that was almost tender but devastating. His hands slipped under your thighs, lifting you with disturbing ease, as if your weight was nothing in his arms. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist and your arms around the back of his neck, your chest pressed against his chest.

You feel his breath against your neck, warm, steady. He leads you to your room without saying a word, as if he already knows the way, as if it's his home.

He gently places you on the bed. The mattress creaks a little under your weight, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. He's still looking at you, standing in front of you in the darkness.

"Take off your clothes." His deep voice echoes through the room. Your trembling fingers first cling to the hem of your top. You slowly remove it, revealing your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples immediately harden, as if already crying out for his lips. You slide your too-short shorts down your legs and throw them to the floor.

He arches an eyebrow as he discovers your bare, glistening innermost part. "No panties under your shorts?..." His mouth moves closer to your ear, his raspy voice enveloping you. "I should expect that from a girl like you."

A shiver runs through your skin at his crude words, your body entirely exposed to his burning gaze. You're vulnerable, but your gaze doesn't avoid his. On the contrary, you almost provoke him.

He rips off his shirt in one motion, revealing a sculpted torso, bulging muscles, and bulging veins running down his arms. In the dim light, he looks unreal. He resembles a sin himself.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." His fingers cup your chin, forcing your face to stay raised towards him, before his lips capture yours. The kiss is slow, deep, more intimate than the last. His tongue explores yours with an intoxicating softness that makes you lose your footing. Yet his hands remain gentle, just that light touch to your chin, enough to frustrate you, but enough to stir your desire.

He breaks the kiss, brushing his mouth over your skin. From the hollow of your chin to the curve of your throat, then lower, until he captures one of your nipples between his lips. You gasp immediately, your back arching under the burning caress.

"Do you like it when I lick your slutty breasts?" he breathes, his smile against your skin. You moan, unable to hold back your voice. Your fingers dig into his blond hair, encouraging him to continue.

His teeth close over your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as he bites it and releases it cruelly. His hand slides between your thighs and rubs your sensitive clit, drawing more desperate sounds from your lips.

"Y-yes..." you moan, almost pleading. He tugs a little harder on your nipple, then releases it with a soft, wet pop, a trickle of saliva glistening between you. "So sensitive..." he says, amused by your state.

His fingers continue to play between your soaked lips, tracing slow circles over your swollen bud. He lifts his head, his eyes fixed on yours. "Look at you... you're arching up against my fingers, darling."

His other hand moves down from your waist to your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly, as if he wants to mark every inch of your skin. His hot breath fanned against your mouth as he watched with a dark gaze of desire.

His fingers leave your clit for a moment, but only to kneel before you. His gaze slides over your soaked intimate area, glistening in the dim light outside. He bites his lip, his pupils dilated with desire.

"I've waited too long for this moment..." he murmurs before roughly spreading your thighs.

You squirm, but he holds you firmly by your hips, and his mouth descends on your dripping pussy. You cry out immediately, your hand coming up to grip the sheet. His tongue traces a long, wet stroke across your slit before lingering on your swollen clit.

"Ugh—!" Your legs tremble, your stomach tightening under this deliciously filthy attack.

He swallows you whole, his lips sucking on your sensitive bud with obscene greed. His tongue flicks, slides, curls, and withdraws, leaving you panting, your fingers clenched in his hair.

At the same time, his massive hand moves up to your chest. His fingers cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them forcefully, as if he couldn't be satisfied with just one part of you. His thumb and forefinger pinch your hardened nipple, twisting it gently, while his mouth continues to devour you down there.

"Fuck... you taste just as good as I imagined..." he grunts between licks, his words vibrating against your sensitive flesh.

You moan loudly, unable to respond. Your head is thrown back and your whole body tenses towards him. His teeth graze your clitoris and you cry out even louder, your chest heaving with ragged breaths.

He alternates between sucking your bud and penetrating you with his tongue, his hand on your breasts following the same merciless rhythm.

"Look at how you move against my mouth..." He looks up at you for a moment, his chin glistening with your wetness, his fingers pinching your nipple until you arch your back. "A real little junkie has my tongue."

And he dives back in immediately, redoubled his ardor, his hands squeezing your breasts so tightly you feel like he wants to mark them forever. You grind desperately against his face for more sensation.

He spreads your thighs even wider, forcing you to stay wide open for him. His tongue flicks relentlessly, swallowing every drop of your arousal, and you cry out his name, unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat.

He moves one hand up between your thighs, two fingers sliding without warning into your already soaked pussy. You cry out even louder, your hand tightening in his blond hair, the other gripping your own breast to amplify the delicious burning sensation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight around my fingers…” His muffled voice vibrates against your clit as he sucks you in again. “Look at how you swallow them, like a real dog in heat.”

His fingers twist inside you, searching for that sensitive spot that’s driving you crazy, and he finds it quickly. Your legs tremble, your pelvis thrusts against his face, unable to resist.

“Yes… there…” you gasp, eyes closed, voice weak. “Please..!”

He sneers against your bud, sending a jolt through your lower abdomen. His free hand moves up to your chest, pinching your nipple until his knuckles turn white. “Look at you… your hard breasts, your dripping pussy… you’re begging me without even speaking.”

“I… I beg you…” you finally moan, your voice breaking. “You want to come, don’t you? Do you want to explode on my fucking tongue and fingers?" His fingers accelerate, pounding you mercilessly while his mouth sucks on your clit with insane force.

You cry out, your body shaking with spasms, small tears appearing at the corners of your eyes. Your thighs tighten around his head, but he pushes even harder, suffocating you with pleasure. "Give me everything, babe... wet my face, squeeze my fingers... show me how much you want to come."

You finally break. A violent orgasm tears a guttural cry from you, your pussy contracting around his fingers with unbearable force. You tremble, shaken by waves of pleasure that almost make you lose consciousness.

He continues despite your spasms, holding you open, swallowing every drop, lightly rubbing your sensitive clitoris to prolong your orgasm until you can't take it anymore.

Your moans turn into sobs, your breasts clenched between his fingers that don't release the pressure. You arch your back, your body burning, breathless.

Finally, he straightens, his chin and lips glistening with your wetness, a predatory smile on his lips. His fingers leave your pussy with a filthy noise, glistening with your pleasure.

He brings them to your mouth, resting them against your trembling lips. "Open up," he orders, his gaze burning.

You obey and let him slide his fingers into your mouth and giggle at the sight of you sucking them obediently. "There... good girl. You're tasting your own pleasure."

He kisses you immediately, forcing the taste of yourself onto his tongue, and moans against your mouth, the guttural sound of his voice mingling with your still-shaky sighs.

Your legs are still shaking from the orgasm he's wrung from you. He sits up slowly, his chest glistening with a thin layer of sweat. You think he's going to take you right away, but no... he removes his sweatpants and boxers slowly, deliberately, as if to torture your impatience.

His cock springs forth, swollen, heavy, the vein pulsing along its length. Just the sight makes you gasp again. You reach out to touch him again, but he grabs your wrist with a firm grip and pulls it above your head.

"Not yet, babe..." he breathes against your mouth before kissing you with tender brutality, his tongue invading yours.

At the same time, he places his hot head against your soaking wet entrance. You moan immediately, your pelvis trying to swallow him, but he pulls back slightly, rubbing just the head of his cock against your wet pussy. The contact is both delicious and unbearable.

He rubs himself slowly, in circles, spreading your wetness along his length before moving up to your clit. You cry out against his lips, your nails scratching his shoulders, but he doesn't give you what you want.

"You want to beg me, huh?" he sneers, his lips brushing your jaw before moving down to bite your neck. His cock slides again between your swollen lips, pressing against your sensitive nub, and you feel your body tense with each stroke.

"I could make you come just like that... without even entering you." His voice is raspy, his words punctuated by a long, slow in-and-out of his cock against your pussy. "But you're too greedy to settle for that, aren't you?"

You don't have time to protest before he's kissing you again, deeper, smothering you with his tongue as his hips roll gently, brushing against you with every movement. You're on the verge of crying in frustration, your whole body screaming for him to finally penetrate you.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot on your mouth. "Then say it. Beg for what you want, babe. I'll give you what you want."

"I'm begging you... I want your cock, please... ugh-" you breathe, your eyes misty, your pelvis grinding against him despite yourself. His head slides against your clit again, tearing a strangled cry from your throat. You're soaking wet, ready to swallow him whole, but he always pulls back at the last moment.

He chuckles softly against your mouth and clamps his hand on your hip to hold you still, his cock rubbing over and over your swollen nub, as if to drive you mad. "You have no idea how much you're turning me on like this, completely desperate."

You bury your face in his neck, your breath shaky, and moan louder.

"Please... take me... I can't take it anymore..." He grabs your chin in a firm grip, forcing your gaze to meet his. His eyes are burning, hard and possessive. "Not yet."

You gasp, unable to bear this torture. Your body screams for him, your stomach tightening with every brush of his cock against your dripping pussy. You look at him pleadingly. "Why?!"

His smile widens, almost cruel, and he just presses the head of his cock against your entrance without actually entering. You feel the stretch, the burn, but he pulls back immediately, leaving you moaning in frustration. "Because I want to be the only one." His voice is low, serious. "The only one to open you up, the only one to fill you. Do you understand?"

You nod frantically, unable to speak, but he tightens his grip on your chin. "Say it."

"You're... the only one..." you gasp, your voice cracking. He presses his cock harder against your soaking pussy, sliding it slowly along your slit. "The only one for what?"

Tears of frustration well up in the corners of your eyes as you cry out, "The only one to fuck me!"

His expression changes, darker, hungrier. He kisses you savagely, his tongue devouring yours, his hips still pressing his head against your entrance without penetrating you.

"There..." he breathes between kisses. “Now that it’s clear… Beg a little more. maybe... I'll give you what you want."

Why is he so mean, you think, but you can't help but love it and squirm beneath him. He moves his free hand down to rub your clit with two fingers, his cock still pressed against your slit, bringing you to the edge without ever crossing the line.

"Tell me... do you want me to be the only one to make you come?" You nod, moaning, unable to stand without his support. He moves closer to your ear, his breath hot.

You tremble, your body burning beneath his cock, sliding again and again against your pussy without ever entering. Your pleas are lost against his lips, your breath hitching, when suddenly his gaze shifts, drawn to something nearby on the nightstand.

Your phone.

He freezes for a moment, a predatory smile slowly forming on his lips. His eyes rest on you, shining with a dangerous glint. "Hm... interesting."

You frown, confused, panting. "What...?" He reaches out, grabs your phone, and plays with it as if he's just found a new toy. "I have an idea." He brings his face closer to yours, his head pressed firmly against your soaked entrance. "You're going to prove it to me. Right now."

Your stomach tightens, your breath hitches. "Wh... what do you mean...?" His smile widens. He uses your head to quickly unlock your phone. "Call your fuck buddy. Now. And tell him it's over. That you never want him again."

Your heart skips a beat. You shake your head, nervous. "I... not like that..." He suddenly presses the head of his cock harder against your entrance, not penetrating, just enough to make you cry out in frustration.

"Yes. Exactly like that." Or I'm not coming home." His voice is low, authoritative, betraying a violent hunger. "And trust me... I can frustrate you all night if you refuse."

Your body betrays him, your pussy clenching, dripping, desperate to swallow him. You gasp, trembling, and finally give in. "Okay..."

He quickly figures out the name of this guy because you've been screaming his name for weeks, and activates the speakerphone, his gaze fixed on yours, a satisfied smile on his lips. When your hookup picks up, you clear your throat, but at that precise moment Nanami starts rubbing his cock between your swollen lips, stealing your breath.

"Hello? Y/N?" the male voice echoes through the room. You tense, but Nanami grips your hip firmly, his other hand squeezing your breast until you moan. "S-talk..." he breathes into your ear, his cock pressing against your clit. "Tell him it's over."

You inhale harshly and blurt out, your voice shaky, "Look... I... I wanted to tell you that... it's over. Our arrangement. I don't want to do it anymore."

Nanami looks at you, his eyes shining with possessive pride. And as soon as the words leave your lips, he thrusts into you with a sharp, deep thrust. Your walls stretch painfully around his thick cock, but it feels so good.

You cry out, your body tense, your old fuck buddy on the other end of the line hearing everything. "What?! Wait, who's with you—"

But you hear nothing. Your cry of pleasure echoes, your pussy tightening around Nanami's massive girth as he thrusts into you in one swift thrust. You arch your back, your nails digging into his back.

“Fuck… you’re so tight…” he groans, his breath hot against your neck. “And all wet just for me…” His thrusts are deep, rough, and you moan even louder, unable to hold back. “mpfhh—! Nanami!”

Your old fuck buddy chokes on the other end of the phone, but Nanami takes your face between his fingers, forcing you to look at him as he continues to pound you mercilessly. “Moan louder. Let him hear how much you’re mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, your body shaking with every thrust of his hips. The obscene sound of your wetness mixing with his flesh fills the room. “Yes… yes! Harder! Please..!” you scream, your voice cracking with pleasure.

He chuckles softly against your mouth and speeds up, pounding into you harder, his head hitting your most sensitive spot with each thrust. "There... good girl. Tell him who's fucking you now."

"It's... it's you! Only you, Nanami..! Ugh-" you scream, tears in your eyes, your uncontrollable moans coming through the speaker. "Only you!"

The other man's breathing becomes garbled, angry, but Nanami reaches out and disconnects the call without slowing down for a second. A smile of pure triumph spreads across his face as he continues to pound into you relentlessly.

"There..." he groans, his forehead against yours, his thrusts wild. "Now you're mine. Mine alone. Call me Kento, darling." Your cries fill the room, your body trapped within his, completely overwhelmed by his thrusts.

You cling to the sheets and moan as if your life depended on it. You can even see the stars when you close your eyes. "I fuck you better than him, don't I? Am I bigger than him?"

You don't answer, too busy dealing with the sensations coursing through your aching body. You feel his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Answer me, babe..."

"You- you fuck me better than him! Ugh- so big, Ken..! Feel good-!" you stammer, moaning. "You feel so much better..."

Nanami grows even bigger as you call him by his nickname, and smiles genuinely, pushing you further into the mattress, his strong hands holding your thighs apart. He gives you no respite: his cock slides out of you with a jerk, before immediately plunging back in, brutally, all the way to the bottom, touching your cervix.

"Aaah—!" » Your cry echoes through the room, your nails catching on the rumpled sheets. "You love this so much, huh?..." he breathes through his teeth, his violent thrusts shaking and creaking the bed beneath you. "My own little slut."

Each thrust makes your skin slap together in an obscene rhythm, your thighs trembling with each impact. His raw heat filling your tight walls with each deep thrust.

His hands move up your body, one on your throat, which he squeezes gently, the other kneading your breasts, pinching your hardened nipples until they elicit even louder moans from you.

Your name in his mouth makes you lose your mind. You arch your back, your pelvis desperately trying to keep up with his rhythm. "Yes... mmmhf- yes, harder! Gosh-!"

He chuckles and obeys immediately. His thrusts become wild, brutal, his cock hitting your g-spot again and again. "Can you feel that?" He slows just enough to roll his hips, his head rubbing the inside of your soaking pussy. "No one else will have you like this. No one."

"N-no... only you!" you gasp, tears blurring your vision. "Say it again." He fucks you harder, his low moans mingling with yours. "Only you! You're the only one who fucks me!" you cry, your body already on the edge of release.

A satisfied smile crosses his sweaty face. He leans down to kiss you sloppily, his tongue crushing yours, before sitting up slightly on his knees to better grip your hips. His fingers dig into your flesh as he pulls you against him with every thrust.

The bed creaks under the impact of his hips and slams against the wall, your body shaking mercilessly. Your clit rubs against his blond hair with each movement, adding a delicious burn that draws uncontrollable moans from you.

"Fuck... your pussy is swallowing me like it was made for me..." he grunts, his jaw clenched. "You're all mine now mmpf-..."

Your stomach tightens, the spasms rising violently. You can feel it, the wave is there, relentless. "I... I'm going to...!"

He leans into your ear, his breath hot and raspy. "Cum for me. Show me how much you love being fucked by my cock."

Your cries burst forth, your orgasm crashing in powerful waves. Your pussy clenches around him, swallowing him with an almost painful force. Nanami moans in turn, a deep, animalistic sound, his hips hitting slower but deeper.

He growls your name through gritted teeth and explodes inside you, spilling his heat without restraint. His hot cum floods you, your contracted walls forcing him to stay buried deep inside.

He remains motionless for a moment, his forehead pressed against yours, his breaths short and heavy. Then he chuckles softly, his gaze still dark with desire but lit with carnivorous satisfaction.

His hands slowly caress your trembling thighs, but his still-hard cock is still pulsing inside you. He slowly withdraws and watches as strings of cum cling to his dick and to you.

"It's so erotic..."

You're still trembling from your orgasm, your pussy engorged and filled with him, but Nanami doesn't seem to want to let you catch your breath. Without warning, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you up, straddling you on his muscular thighs. His cock, still hard despite his orgasm, rubs against your soaked slit, letting a trickle of his cum run down your thighs.

"Look at you..." he breathes with a wicked smile, his hands immediately moving up to grip your breasts and knead them forcefully. "Already addicted to my cock even though I've only fucked you once."

You gasp, your body burning against his. You cling to his broad shoulders, your pelvis already moving without you realizing it, trying to have him inside you again.

He laughs softly, predatory. "You think I don't see how your pussy is still crying out for me? Insatiable little slut..." His lips crush against yours in a brutal kiss, his tongue invading your mouth, stealing your breath. His hands move down your back, squeezing your buttocks with a firm grip before lifting you above his head. Without warning, he slams you back down onto his cock.

"Aaah!" your cry breaks against his mouth as he pushes himself all the way in, even deeper than before in this position. "Fuck..." he groans, his head thrown back, his veins bulging on his neck. "Your pussy is swallowing me so much."

His hands slide everywhere: your waist, your hips, your thighs, your breasts. He doesn't let go of you for a second, every inch of your body marked by his touch. He bites your neck, leaves burning hickeys, and continues to guide you up and down his enormous cock.

You moan loudly, unable to hide how crazy he's driving you. He smiles against your skin, satisfied. "I'm... addicted to you!" you cry, your pelvis slapping against his in a desperate rhythm. He sneers, his fingers pinching your nipple until you scream, as he thrusts his hips upwards, driving you even harder onto his cock.

"Atta girl. No one else. No more hookups, no more men, okay? Just me. Just my cock inside you, baby."

His words electrify you, your moans growing louder, more desperate, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone with every movement. He places a hand on the back of your neck and kisses you smuttily, biting your lip, his tongue sliding against yours with possessive brutality. His other hand holds your hip firmly, guiding your rapid movements, setting his pace.

Each thrust is deeper, each kiss dirtier, each word cruder. "You're going to come on me again, aren't you?" Empty you like a slut on my dick…”

You nod, unable to say anything other than his name, your body already shaking with a new wave of pleasure. You're trembling, clinging to his shoulders, your pussy still full of his seed, but Nanami doesn't slow down. He guides you roughly onto his thighs, ramming you again and again in a savage rhythm. Each thrust makes you moan so loudly that your cries echo against the bedroom walls.

“Fuck… you're so tight…” he grunts, his veins bulging on his arms as he grips your hips, grinding you against him. “Your pussy is mine. Only mine. Understand?”

You nod and feel his low laugh against you, then bite your shoulder hard before resuming the rhythm even more brutally. His hands slide everywhere: your breasts, which he pinches and kneads, your waist, which he squeezes as if to mark you forever, your thighs, which he spreads wider to better possess you.

"You're screaming like a real whore in heat..." he whispers in your ear. "You want to feel me deep inside you again, huh?"

You can't hold back your moans any longer, your pelvis moving of its own accord, clinging to him, swallowing his cock in perfect rhythm. "Yes... yes... fill me...! Please, Ken..." you scream, your face contorted with pleasure.

He speeds up again, thrusting into you roughly, until his head hits your cervix. You moan in pain and pleasure, and your pussy contracts around him, and he grunts, his hands holding you firmly so you don't let go.

“There you go… you’re cumming for me… tell me how much you love me…” he says, his voice low and raspy, filled with desire. “I… I love you… I’m yours…” you gasp, your body trembling, your nails scratching his shoulders as a new wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your orgasm hits you with incredible force, each spasm of your pussy leaving you gasping and moaning, your body shaking with uncontrollable contractions around his cock. He barely lets you breathe before his thrusts resume, even deeper, even more possessive.

“Fuck… look how you’re creaming around me…” he grunts, biting your neck. Your body, still sensitive and hot, gasps, completely submissive. You nod, unable to speak.

He grunts lightly, his breath coming in ragged breaths, and speeds up until he explodes inside you, unrestrained. His hot cum floods you again, filling your pussy to the brim. You cry out, your muscles contracting around him as he completely surrenders, his thrusts becoming erratic before he collapses against you.

He holds you tight, his breath hot on your neck, a predatory smile on his lips. Your body, exhausted and still trembling, remains glued to his. You are his forever, addicted to his hands, his mouth, especially his big cock… and he knows it perfectly well.

Nanami slowly pulls out of you, and a hoarse moan escapes you as he feels his cock leave your soaked, still throbbing pussy. The heat of his cum is already threatening to escape, but before you can even move, he presses his hand against your lower abdomen, preventing you from clenching your thighs.

"No, no... you keep it all." His voice is deep, commanding, and his gaze burns with a possessive glow. You're panting, your body exhausted, but your stomach is shaking of pleasure just hearing it.

He immediately slides two fingers inside you, pushing his cum deeper, mixing it with your own juices. You cry out against his mouth as he kisses you sordidly, swallowing every moan you make.

"I came a lot..." he breathes, nibbling at your lips between kisses. His fingers pump inside you, firm and slow, each movement sloshing the hot mixture as it drips out. "Your pussy is made to hold my cum, isn't it, baby?"

You arch your back, completely submissive to his movements, your hips moving against his fingers despite the burning sensitivity.

"Nanami... I... I can't take it anymore..." your voice breaks.

He smiles, cruel and tender at the same time, and makes you lie on your back on the bed and gets on top of you. "You can still. You're holding every drop... you're such a good girl, you can do it." »

His lips move down to your neck, sucking your skin violently, leaving red marks. Meanwhile, his fingers continue their vicious work, massaging your sensitive spot, stretching your cum-engorged pussy.

"Look at you..." he groans, lifting his head slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "You're going to come again, just because I'm fingering you with my cum inside you. You're getting addicted, aren't you?"

You nod frantically, unable to respond with anything other than desperate moans. Your legs tremble, your hands desperately clinging to his back as a new wave of pleasure rises inexorably.

"Tell me..." he insists, his voice raspy in your ear. "Say you're already addicted to me." »

"I... I'm addicted to you..." you gasp, your voice breaking, before screaming when you feel his fingers curl inside you and your orgasm come again, your muscles contracting around his cum-soaked fingers.

Nanami kisses you then with a satisfied smile, swallowing your cry against his mouth, his fingers still deep inside you, holding everything inside, as if sealing his imprint on your body.

"Good," he murmurs against your lips, his hot breath mixing with yours. "You'll have only me, every last drop."

His fingers remain deep inside you, arched just over the spot he already knows by heart. Your stomach still tightens, unable to catch your breath, and yet Nanami doesn't slow down. He holds your neck with one hand so you remain facing him, his lips capturing every one of your moans.

“Watch me when you come…” he growls, his fingers speeding up, slapping the hot mixture filling your pussy. “I want to see the look on your face when you realize you can’t live without me anymore.”

Your eyes glaze over, your body arching in spite of yourself. Each thrust of his fingers inside you brings forth a new surge of pleasure, until you cry out his name, shattered, unable to hold anything back. “K-Ken…! I’m coming… I… I can’t…!”

Your body tenses violently, your walls squeezing his fingers with an almost painful force. You come so hard that tears well up in the corners of your eyes, your legs shaking against his hips.

But he doesn’t stop. His satisfied smile darkens even more, and he pushes his fingers deeper, curling them to hold you in ecstasy. "Yes... keep it all inside you, slut... squeeze my fingers, keep my cum in your pussy..."

Your orgasm stretches out, uncontrollable, until you cry out, shattered by pleasure, your body fully stimulated. Finally, he slows down, but doesn't remove his fingers. He stays inside you, keeping them firmly planted, as if to ensure nothing escapes.

He captures your lips again, a wickedly tender kiss, mixed with drool and desire. When he pulls away, he whispers against your mouth, "You're so pretty, my angel."

Your body collapses against him, still trembling from your violent orgasm. Your breath is ragged, your forehead pressed against his chest, and your thighs still shiver with the jolts of pleasure. He slides his other hand into your messy hair and strokes it gently, contrasting with the firmness of his fingers still buried inside you. His mouth rests on your forehead, placing a slow, almost tender kiss.

"Shh... breathe, baby." His voice is low, soothing. "You were perfect." You gasp again, gasping for air, but you feel his lips on your forehead, reassuring you.

"It still burns a little..." you whisper in a small, trembling voice. He smiles and tightens his embrace. "Normal. I want you to get used to me..." His fingers move just enough to remind you they're still there, firmly lodged. "I want you to keep everything, okay, baby?"

You shiver, but instead of protesting, you pull him into your arms, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Your eyes almost close, tired of it all.

He lowers his head, his lips brushing your ear, but this time his voice is not cruel: it is soft, deep, intimate. "You looked at me when you were coming... you don't know how beautiful I thought you were..."

You blush, your heart pounding, and a small smile forms despite yourself. "I think I've become addicted to you..." you breathe, vulnerable.

His fingers gently squeeze inside you, a possessive reflex, before he kisses your forehead again. "That's what I want."

He removes his fingers dripping with your fluids and his semen and puts them in his mouth to clean them with a satisfied look. "So why haven't you had sex in a long time?" you ask curiously.

"I couldn't sleep with someone when I had someone else invading my head," he says, bringing you close. You smile and kiss him. "I guess that's a good thing."

"Certainly."

masterlist

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A shiver runs down your spine.

Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to get this far.

According to what the stories and legends claimed, a mere mortal like you would have been sniffed out—would have been sought after, would have your flesh torn to shreds the very second you stepped inside the Sukuna Estate. If not by the monster that inhabited it, then the Estate itself.

Some whispered that it was inhabited by cursed spirits - amongst something far, far worse - that both guarded and imprisoned. Whilst others whispered that the house itself was a cursed spirit in the form of this sprawling aristocratic estate—as vast as a palace. Even more whispered that whomever entered the house gained a taste for blood, and even most claimed that a house’s auspiciousness reflected that of its master’s. 

For who else would inhabit such a place but Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses himself?

If the public whispered about the estate, they simply yelled about the sorcerer that inhabited it. Blood-curdling screams. 

There was no avoiding the rumors that swirled around the special-grade; those who were unfortunate enough to cross his path painted a picture of a beast more than eight feet tall, with glowing blood-red eyes and horns that tore open the skies. Storms he could silence with a single wave of his hand. His powers were what made legends—never before had there been seen a sorcerer as strong as he, and it was likely that there never shall be again. Though that was not for a lack of trying, or talent, or assassinations. 

Despite remaining living, he was depicted in temples and murals of hell. Four arms. Four eyes. Two mouths and countless tattoos. So imbued in his sorcery that it metamorphosed his physical body itself - Ryomen Sukuna was said to be something more than human, but something less than a person. 

Look at him wrong and you might find yourself without sight. Without life. 

Thus, not many dared to lay their eyes upon him—but they didn’t have to. He left a pathway of destruction and blood-soaked footprints wherever he went. 

A kill count higher than several populations.

Wherever he went, it loomed the dark shadow of a hand across the land. Currently that hand was grasped tight around the city of Heian-kyō: the home of Ryomen Sukuna, it sat at the very center of the capital. Dubbed aptly by the citizens to be The Estate of the Dead. For no human that wandered inside, will ever wander out.

And yet, that’s exactly the chance you’d taken today.

You’d had enough.

You’d waltzed right up to those grand doors this evening, dwarfing everything and anything around it, and knocked. Dark mahogany panels. Gilded handles. Unlike most noble homes, the Sukuna Estate didn’t need to have guards stationed outside it—for who was mad enough to bother the King of Curses?

You, it seems.

And so the busy road froze around you; the residents paused mid-gossip, the merchants stopped haggling their prices, the carts and wheels creaked to a halt—the world itself held its breath as the doors to the estate had opened.

And a short, slender person stepped outside.

They were dressed in a dark monk’s robe draped over a white kimono, equally white hair dazzling - almost ethereally odd - underneath the sunlight. They closed the door behind themself, and looked at you intensely. “State your purpose.”

You struggled to remember why you were here in the first place, “I-It is my greatest honor to-”

“Hasten.”

“I only wished to-”

“Hasten-”

“A position.”

You weren’t sure who was more bewildered at the words that blurted out of you—you or the citizens around you. There were soft gasps that echoed into the air, peering even closer at the strange interaction. However, the attendant merely looked at you uncertainly, and you hurried to explain yourself. “I come seeking employment, my lord of the house.”

“I am but a mere servant.” They replied, raising one hand. “And we seek help no longer.”

As they attempted to turn back and go inside, you’re rushing. “Please-”

Brows furrowed, “I said we seek help no-”

“But I swear that I shall be the most loyal servant to the master…” Bowed slightly, a slight rush of relief goes through you as you notice they’ve turned back. Just barely, but it’s something. “-after yourself, of course.”

They huffed in slight amusement.

And your hands shook. Gripped onto the long length of your sleeves, you steadied them before you continued - just as you’d practiced. “I swear upon my soul that no assignment shall be too great, no concern too small. Please—please, I have scoured every street and alley for weeks now in search of employment, and you have been the only one kind enough to open your doors…Any job is enough for me- any. Just spare me the chance.” Hands twisted together into a plea, “I beg of you.”

They looked slightly taken aback, and you stepped closer to seize your chance.

“My body is the master’s, and I shall gladly undertake any task.” You gazed straight into their doe-like, brown eyes—“Any task.”

Their lips barely moved as they repeated, “Any?”

“Any.”

There was a ringing silence following your answer, and you knew that everyone in the once-bustling vicinity must have been staring at you. But that didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered but the way the white-haired attendant let their brows raise, they appraised you from head to toe.

Head to toe.

Head to toe.

It honestly seemed like forever before they finally sighed, “At ease.”

And you shot upwards from your painstaking bow with an awed breath. 

Untold, the doors to the Sukuna Estate opened. They turned around, not meeting your eyes - nor that of anyone around you two - and gestured for you to follow them inside. Stepping inside as though they didn’t care whether you proceeded or not, the strange attendant uttered. “I expect you to use your body well to serve the master.” Just barely tilted to the side to take another look at you, “You have one night to please him.”

The sound of wrought iron echoed through the ancient city like thunder.

And you touched your sleeve once more - your best silk, but more specifically…the dagger you’d hidden beneath it. 

You had one night to take down the King of Curses.

In no time, you’d been led around the massive estate by Uraume - they’d uttered their name to you between the meeting chamber and the second library - and your heart still thumps away at your throat as they now creeeeeeak—! open the quarters for the concubines. Blood bubbling in your veins. Blade cold against your skin.

There was a buzzing sort of excitement that seemed to extend from the weapon and onto you—only growing stronger as you’re pacing inside. 

It wasn’t the small, structured sort of barrack that you might’ve expected - you weren’t sure the validity, but you’d already heard stories about how concubines were cramped together in certain royal palaces. Bunks on top of bunks. Bodies that remained undernourished and untouched.

However, what Uraume takes you through is a gilded hallway—nothing out-of-place from the rest of the palace. On one side was a line of separate rooms, at the end of the hallway the paneled doors opened to a garden. It had unlit lanterns on the high ceilings and intricate artifacts that seemingly sprouted from the gleaming wooden floors; the spotless corridor branched and divulged into several other rooms and hallways, weighed with nameplates, and you were shocked to realize that each concubine seemed to have their room - no matter how small their rank; there was a lingering of perfume in the air. 

Fit for royals.

Your eyes bounce off of the walls, and Uraume watches your reaction closely. “I assume it is to your liking?”

“Yes-” You wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression - especially not when a mere offense could mean death—“F-forgive me, it’s far more than to my liking, it’s…” Taking another awed look around, “-magnificent. I suppose I didn’t expect it to be so…”

“Beautiful?” Uraume seems to read your mind.

And you can only turn to them and nod. 

They sagely nod, something knowing in their tone. “The master has an inclination to all that is beautiful and surprising.” Looking at you closely, “Particularly surprising.”

Uraume’s expression gives nothing away, and you attempt to do the same - the dagger glints coldly against your hand. A single movement and it could cut you. A single movement and it could be in your hands.

You don’t know how long they maintain eerie eye contact with you before the sound of footsteps makes you tear your eyes away—and where you’re perhaps expecting to see the monster, the inhuman, the master of this house himself—it’s another woman. Human, perhaps.

Donned in expensive silk that robes her figure, she tip-toes towards the two of you with a sheepish smile upon her painted face. 

She bows, and you’re bowing back.

“Forgive my intrusion.” She says as she straightens once more, “It is seldom we meet a new girl. Perhaps this is forward, but am I right in presuming you are one of the new concubines?”

“O-oh, you are correct.” You’re surprised by her warm and welcoming demeanour - weren’t fights and jealousy typical of close concubine quarters? Wasn’t she supposed to scheme and plot against you just as you were doing against her- you suppose your master?

But she takes your hand and beams at you, “Then it is most wonderful to make your acquaintance. Ask me anything you would like.”

Your lips part - unsure what to say - but the white-haired attendant at your side beats you to it by announcing. “Dinner shall be served shortly.” They turn, about to make their exit before eyeing you closely. “Human.”

And you wondered whether they meant to call you human…or they meant that dinner was human. 

Once those delicate doors slide shut, and Uraume’s footsteps disappear, you’re just then realizing that you were still holding onto the other woman’s hand. Mustering up some semblance of a smile, you’re asking her—“Could you tell me about…Ryomen Sukuna?”

.

.

.

“There’s a descendant of the esteemed Kamo clan here, as well—” One of the women chuckle, taking a deep drink of her sake - one of those expensive types that came in an intricate wooden box. She smacks her lips in satisfaction, “-but you just missed her.”

Your heart batters against your chest- you still had the dagger hidden up your sleeve. Setting down your water, you hope that none of the other concubines here can hear the waver in your voice- “I see. Is she perhaps attending the…?”

“Huh?” The woman looks at blearily for a few seconds. “Who? The master?”

You nod silently.

She exchanges a look with one of the other women-

Before bursting into rambunctious laughter. 

And you’re sitting there confused as they clap one another on the shoulders, as they rattle the food-laden table—as they wipe mirthful tears from their eyes. Repeating the last sentence to one another and breaking out into peels of laughter once more. Surely, you hadn’t said anything too humorous…perhaps this was some unspoken rule of etiquette you’d missed?

It hadn’t been too long since you’d been somewhat- absorbed into the group of numerous concubines upon concubines that were housed in the Sukuna Estate. Many more than you’d initially predicted - the hallway you’d entered had been just one of many residential wings. 

Right now, about half of them sat at a long table of which you couldn’t clearly see its end - both because of length and the sheer volume of food towering upon it. All sorts of soups and noodles. All sorts of breads and wines. All sorts of meats and charred vegetables. Desserts and colorfully-packaged sweets from around the world that you’d once believed that only the emperor himself would have been able to taste.

It would have been possible to dislike every food you’d ever known, and still find something here that made you wish to stay…if just for the food.

You could hear the other half of the women chattering and laughing away in another dining room connected to this one. 

All in all, your proponent - a woman you’d learned was connected with the Fujiwara family - had told you everything about Sukuna as she introduced you to the other concubines. They took you in readily, to your surprise, and cooed and surrounded and showed you around. Speaking to you about how the estate was designed personally by Sukuna himself. How Uraume was his (human) cook. How he was a ruthless ruler, and the hallways were more often bloodied than not—but he didn’t lay a hand on them.

When they’d told you this, you’d assumed it was regarding his more…aggressive reputation on the battlefield. You didn’t think it meant-

“Our Kamo girl has travelled to Edo.” The woman from earlier - Abe, you remember her name being - continues as the others settle down. She whispers scandalously, “To visit her lover.”

You breathe in sharply, “The master permits you to take lovers?”

“It isn’t that he permits…” Fujiwara smiles warmly at you - not too far down the table. The other concubines nod as she continues, “It’s that he doesn’t pry—he has no time for human frivolities. After all, the master hasn’t called for one of the girls in…well, since we can remember. He’s a picky man. But nowadays, girls enter and leave the estate as they please, as they wish for employment. Most choose to join the house staff in time, for we aren’t bound, and the master seems to have no need for concubines these days.”

Surprise overtakes you, your hand grips tightly on your sleeve. But your objective…

Abe speaks up now, “Which is why it’d been quite the surprise to know he’d allowed in yet another.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile, “Perhaps you’re the type to really get his loins going-”

“Abe—!” A few other women swat at her.

“I jest- I jest—” She winks at you, “In part. Would you prefer to lay with the master?”

Something twists at the bottom of your stomach, “I-if it must come to it, I wouldn’t mi-”

You’re cut off as they exclaim in scandal all around you. 

Fujiwara shakes her head with a smile, then she looks at you. “No matter what it is, you shall be housed and fed here. You shall never go without despite the master’s…”

“Impotence?”

“…”

“I jest-”

“What’s more—” She pulls back her sleeves and gestures for a bowl of sake, “Given the state of affairs, I highly doubt that you would ever have to-”

Just then, there’s a tap at the sliding doors.

An announcement of Uraume’s title—before they’re cracking the entrance open just a fraction. That stark white hair of theirs flashes from the gap in the door, illuminated by both the dim yellow lighting and the curiosity leaking out of the dining room; eyes scanning the vast chamber before finally landing on you.

An utterance of your name.

All eyes snap to you.

“The master wishes for you to join him tonight.”

One by one, you could feel the jaws of the other women drop—as well as your own. Right alongside something at the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite describe. 

As the silence stretches and expands to the other speechless dining chamber- Fujiwara lets out a pointed cough—and it’s all you need to jolt right back to your senses. Scrambling to stand up, you barely have the time to smooth down your kimono before following Uraume out of the room - throwing a cautionary glance over your shoulder. 

Fujiwara smiles, slightly shocked. 

Abe winks. 

The sliding doors rattle closed, and the whirlwind of gossip that follows accompanies you even to the bridge. 

Head ducked. Hands in sleeves. Uraume remains painfully silent as you’re following them down winding hallways and past chambers vast enough to be estates themselves; and though you’d been given a tour of the place beforehand, you can’t help but let your mind get just a little frazzled at the thought of what was to come after.

Of what was to come once they finally stopped.

And they do—after what feels like nights upon nights, the white-haired attendant stops before two sliding doors - nothing but sliding doors. Though you’d assumed that the King himself might have decked his personal chambers with several of his best guards, you’re realizing with a prickle of anticipation that he didn’t need them.

But that only made your job easier.

Invisible hands seem to pull the doors - panes decorated in artwork depicting archery - apart, and you’re entering a room that would have been too lavish for an emperor. 

A massive rectangular-shaped room of which strange interconnected woodwork make up the flooring; windows towering from floor-to-ceiling, half-hidden by thick curtains of red velvet. They clung themselves onto a ceiling that was gilded, calligraphy rounding the high perimeter, and a chandelier-like composition of lanterns fashioned down from it. Reds and greens and blacks and golds, the most eye-catching painting colors of furniture within. 

In the far end of the royal chamber was the futon. 

And you would describe its incredible size and its golden threading, even the red, red blanket that covered it- you would…but your eyes were far more interested in who was occupying it.

Thighs spread. Two elbows resting on his knees.

All four eyes locked on you since the moment you step inside-

“Uraume.” His lips barely seem to move, though that hoarse baritone is hard to deny. It wasn’t as inhuman as you might have expected—it sounded human and yet, there was surely something malevolent in the way he made your thighs squeeze together with just a single word. “You are dismissed.”

You’re feeling Uraume bow deeply next to you, and in the blink of an eye they’re gone-

In another blink of an eye, Ryomen Sukuna has one large hand stuck out - index quirked at you, he beckons you to him once. Only once. 

And you gulp as you walk to him.

This was your first time really seeing the King of Curses- fuck. He was wearing nothing but baggy white pants and a strange, carnal inkling about him. Engulfing you in it the second you’re locking eyes with him. The legends were right…somewhat.

Because Sukuna truly was larger than any mere mortal could ever be: with shoulders sculptured and broad enough that they’d put your best warriors to shame, with corded muscle around biceps the size of your head, with his pecs creating a bumpy road for his tattoos. He was about nine feet tall—perhaps even taller than the stories said. Far taller. Far stronger. Far more monstrous. 

Abs consistently patterned his front, disrupted only by the presence of his second mouth - it slashes aaaaall the way across his navel, large n’ licking his cursed lips with a grin.

And those tattoos- oh, those tattoos.

They were the tattoos of a criminal - two looping around each of his four arms like shackles, and then a circle on all four deltoids.

You bite the inside of your cheek—you knew your mission. But fuck- you won’t deny that a part of you wanted him so bad. 

Sukuna’s pink hair catches the lantern light as he leans back on two hands, meaty thighs manspreading before you. And in-between you swear you could see the thick, throbbing outlines of two-

“On your knees.” The King commands. Crimson eyes narrowing, “Should you so wish.”

And your knees are buckling almost instinctually- he raises a rose-pink brow as he watches your hands reach for your sleeve…before ultimately going against your orders to settle down before the foot of the bed where he was seated. 

Embarrassment curdles in your chest as you’re crawlin’ yourself closer to him, and the sorcerer himself hums in approval once you’re leaning your cheek against his right thigh. Rubbing. 

The muscles underneath twitch—and Sukuna’s swollen tips let out a spurt of precum that puddles right in front of your lips. That translucent dampness stretches across the fabric and wets your lips with its salty taste- you whine.

Right before he grasps the back of your sweaty scalp with one massive hand- and shoves your head down onto one clothed cock. Your mouth gaped wide and plopping! right on top of his mushroomy tip—an open kiss against where his sensitive slit was flared outwards. 

He’s pulsating against your lips.

And you’re moaning with your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of his entire tip being nearly fuckin’ big enough to envelop your entire maw-

“Do you understand now?” Sukuna’s tone rumbles from above - low and level in a way that speaks of such power. He doesn’t reveal anything more, however. “Do you understand that your puny human body cannot handle me?”

You’re looking up at him with furrowed brows, “I-I understand…”

“Do you understand that I may ruin you?”

“I understand.”

“Do you understand that you cannot take m-”

“I want you-” And almost as bewildering as the fact that you’ve interrupted him, is that Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t crush you with his cursed energy on the spot for interrupting him. “-my lord.”

But that seems to be his tipping point. For his large stomach mouth quirks upwards in what almost seems like a smile—

And Sukuna gruffs out, “Then kiss your King.”

And so you’re gripping onto the soft edge of the mattress and leaning yourself up into his kiss- not the one his face was so ready for—but one where you’re leaning in and pressing a chaste peck onto his second mouth.

Onto those monstrously large lips hungrily gaping at his stomach.

Onto that fucking hungry - starved - maw so deprived of any touch that he’s immediately slurpin’ the edge of his textured tongue outwards. Attempting to enter his incredible size between your own lips, Sukuna’s only managing to fit about an inch of his cursed tastebuds—swipin’ the insides of your heated cavern and making you gasp, before he’s searing his grip into your scalp and tugging you off-

“Naughty naughty.” He trundles. And yet there’s a glimmer of something different in his eyes that told you Ryomen Sukuna was almost…excited. He’s patting one side of him on the futon, “Come up here with me, insolent thing.”

In no time, you’re hauled onto the bed and straddling the infamous King. 

Thighs struggling to squeeze around his toned core, cunt drooling your slick through your panties. As you’re inadvertently rubbing uuuup and down his ridged abs- it creates a snail trail of glistening sap that trickles all the way down to his pinkish-brown happy trail. 

Sukuna titters once he leans his head down and takes in the mess - n’ then he’s gripping one side of your waist with a single hand. 

Squeezing lightly, it doesn’t take even a mere fraction of his power to glide the exterior of your pussy down those unruly tufts of hair—dooooooown in a carnal scratch as he positions you directly on top of his second mouth.

His second mouth.

Now gaped wide open and fucking ravenous.

Immediately cracking apart from each other with a parched gasp- something deep and rumbling from his underbelly. It reminds you of a creature that’s been starved for eons—something that makes shivers run up your spine right from the in-betweens of your drippin’ wet cunt. Right as you’re feeling his oversized tongue press aside your ruined underwear and start to eeeeeease inside-

“Fuh-fuuuuck—” Dazed peripherals rolling to the back of your head - without even realizing it, you’re planting your feet onto the futon and bucking- whether more into Sukuna’s cursed mouth or away from it…you’re unsure.

But he’s making the decision for you. He’s cupping either side of your hips with two clawed hands, letting those pointed tips dig into your clammy flesh, “Easy-” Letting out a rumbling chuckle. “Easy there, woman.”

Gasping, you’re lurching- 

“Easy.”

And it’s all he needs to steady you.

It’s all he needs to tighten his hold onto your squirmin’ body, until it’s like he’s attached onto you with adhesive. It doesn’t take much of him to move you ‘round and spread open those folds even further like a pretty flower—that massive tongue of his wastes no time before swirling around that first ring of muscle. Cutely clenching around him- fuck, he can’t wait.

Before slurping his muscle back and shoving it straight between your pussylips. 

Through the popping pressure in your ear, “Because how’re you gonna take my cocks otherwise?”

And you really didn’t forget who you were dealing with, did you?

You really didn’t think that Ryomen Sukuna - the King of Curses - was going to go easy on you…did you?

Because without even waiting for your struggling walls to get used to the size, his enlarged tongue reels all the way backwards with a deafening slurp! Right until the curvaceous tip was ticklin’ at your entrance, before Sukuna’s thrusting all the way back in. Again.

Your toes curl. Your eyes dart instantly to the back of your head. 

Sukuna himself cracks a smirk- before he’s then doing it again.

And again.

“Don’t think yer running from it.” A third hand ends up plastered atop your clammy scalp- dangerously gripping your head and puuuuuushing you down onto him. 

As far as your tight hole would let him. Your thighs quiver, “B-but-” Bucking.

“Now now, brat—” Pushing you back down. “Ya get what you’re given.”

Again and again.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’re twisting on top of him because of the ruthless swabbin’ of his tastebuds inside. Honed at the very tip and zig-zagging around in a way that makes you viscerally shake on top of him—he’s slipping his velvety muscle inside and stirring it a few times to get a reeeeally good feel for your walls. For how much you’d stretch. “Because you shall fit- oh…” He seethes between clenched canines, nose scrunched at the very top. “You must- fit it. You must not run away.”

Another tough battering ram of his thick tongue - it’s almost adorable how your poor body is being jerked to and fro. He murmurs, “For who can possibly escape Ryomen Sukuna? Heh.”

His tongue seems to wind n’ stretch even deeper inside you after his own self-praise - you always have heard rumors about the King of Curses being particularly egotistical…though righteously. 

And again and again—“P-please.” Sukuna’s second tongue fills you up in all sorts of ways you’ve never felt before - not with the texture or the size or the complete and utter need…Those ridged tastebuds of his were pushin’ into eeeeevery single nook and cranny he could reach - which was all of them. At least, as far back as your dewy walls were allowing him to go, “Such a size should be-”

“Necessary.” He’s cutting you off cleanly. “Besides…”

Sukuna raises a pink brow, leaning backwards on the mattress to watch his massive tongue indulge in and out. In and out. In and out.

Your puffy folds being pushed apart at a rapid pace, your gloss seeping everywhere as he tunnels inside—he’s letting out a low whistle of approval as his second mouth creates such a mess between your legs. Monstrous tongue jerking outwards and slapping the front of your cunt teasingly- it makes a fresh wave of your juices slather down your thighs.

And he smiles - already knowing that he’s going to clean this up later.

The King’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Heh- you should be aware, little human…that m’not even halfway inside yet.”

There were two things in that sentence that drove you utterly wild: the fact that he mentioned he was barely inside, and the fact that he said…yet. As though to prove the point he’d just sparked inside your muddled brain, Sukuna arches his hips off the bed and ruts-

Pistoning his tongue a mere inch deeper.

Even though - to you - it feels like he’d just struck his tongue against your very throat—“Wh-what you claiming…” Your thighs quake as he continues fucking you between them, “How much longer may you possibly have to go?”

“Oh…an inch, two, four….seven.” Sukuna tilts his head airily, “Tch- such tedious tasks are meant for humans. How about you count instead?”

You balk, “Pardon, master?”

“Count, little human.” And without a single warning, his fourth hand snakes underneath your flapping kimono- between those sopping pussylips and squeezing at your poor clit. “Your master orders you to count.”

And the only thing you can possibly do is let your eyes shutter at the pleasure, lips trembling as Sukuna’s second tongue finds its mazin’ way across your walls. As you’re struggling to get a single word out, however, at least the ruthless sorcerer slooooows his pace down to something more languid- making sure you feel every bump and vein.

Every quirk.

Every inch.

Until finally you’re throwing your head behind and vocalizing—after only a few sloppy strikes. “T-two…”

“Heh…interesting.” One of those gnarled hands clasped onto your sides reaches upwards n’ grabs onto your pretty face, smushin’ those cheeks together as he stares deeply into your eyes. Sukuna takes in your dazed peripherals, your spit-glossed lips - the way you looked completely and utterly gone on his tongue, and yet…still managed to answer his question.

Mere mortals never did manage to surprise him anymore. You, however…

Before even he knows what he’s doing, Ryomen Sukuna leans inwards and spits between your gaped maw. Rushing to then kiss you with his own lips - eyes widened, mouth hungry. He looks bewildered himself, as his cursed mouth continues rubbin’ your pussy raw—“It seems we have a feisty little human on our hands.” Three out of four hands groping at your sides and making you ride him-

You’re trembling.

“And yet, who told you to cease your counting?”

Thwack!

“Three—” You cry out. Expectedly, Sukuna was mean—that fourth n’ final hand of his plasters his knobbly fingertips against your sensitive nub. Spanking you hard enough to see stars.

But Sukuna only grins, “Incorrect.”

Yet another spank. Yet another brush of his cursed tongue inwards- and you swear that you’re starting to hear his second mouth start to snicker to himself. Was that even possible? 

Were you even thinking? Were you even breathing?

It doesn’t take his keen eyes long to realize that he’s left you completely and utterly stupid on his tongue—just so luscious and lewd. Spreadin’ apart your puffy folds and funneling your insides with him, “Four- four—”

“Correct.” Just to tease you, those fingers of his leave another rude spank.

And Sukuna doesn’t bother letting you gather your bearings before he’s delving even deeper. 

“F-five…” You’re trembling out as you feel the massaging texture of his tastebuds enter, they’re pokin’ into spots you hadn’t even realized you had - filling out your tight channel and leaving his shape molded straight into your cunt. “And is that…ngh- six?”

“That was seven.” He rumbles out in a smug tone.

Your jaw drops as you register the massive number - seven inches of his cursed tongue fucking your pussy. And yet it still doesn’t seem as though he’s planning to stop anytime soon…

Back arched, you’re keeping your hands on top of Sukuna’s broad shoulders. Nails digging into his deltoids. And with all the strength that you could muster, you’re attempting to riiiiiide your hips back down onto his—grinding in figure-eight motions.

Sukuna was already manhandling you down onto him - now it might just be your turn to control the cadence. To control how much of him went inside you.

“J-just fuck me already—” You’re pleading. Your jaw drops with a parched whimper, hips veering down harder and harder- “Ngh- that was eight. Nine. Just fuck me- all of me.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen in slight surprise- before he’s quickly catching himself and tightening the two hands at your waist. “Now now…easy there. Go too fast for a little human, and yer going to hurt yourself.”

“But I need it.” Lip jutting out in the cutest damn pout, “I need you inside me, Kuna.”

His breath catches, “Repeat what you just uttered.”

Back bending into the most delicious curve, pushing up against his sweaty pecs. You’re sobbing out as his stomach mouth gapes even wider n’ seemed to push in even more, more, moooore of his sultry inches—“N-nine and a half…? I need you inside-”

“Not that-” Smacking your clit once more. “-you insolent brat.” The tip of his tastebuds reach the very back of your pussy, and it’s a sensation you just can’t describe. “That…title. I command you to hah, repeat it.”

“Title?”

Thwack!

“Repeat it.”

And it’s taking everything and anything in you - in your utterly cockdrunken mind - to conjure up the faintest inkling about what Sukuna was talking about. To let your head throw back with a final primal cry—for the first time since he’d started fucking you with his stomach mouth, you’re finally feeling your ass cheeks seat down properly on top of his washboard abs. 

And then you’re finding yourself in his strong arms, your moans muffled into his actual mouth. “T-ten.” Gasping through the constant drool n’ sounds of pleasure clogging up your throat, “That’s ten, Kuna—”

And there it was.

Theeeeeere it was - in more ways than one.

Ryomen Sukuna’s getting to hear that sultry nickname fall from your mouth once more - for some inexplicable reason leaving the tips of his ears feeling warm - and he’s getting to see you complete his command.

Ten entire inches of his cursed second tongue- lickin’ away every trace of sap at your inner thighs, before he’s pushing it all the way inwards. Inwards and inwards. The maw slashed across his stomach grins as he’s hitting the very back of your pussy-

And before you know it, the King is tugging you into his arms.

He kisses your mouth sloppily while his second tongue continues fucking you between your legs. Harder by the minute.

Sukuna grunts as he opens his mouth wiiiiide n’ slips his tongue between your jaw- “Suck on my tongue.” He’s echoing out in a hollow tone.

And you can do nothing but squeeze your glossy lips together—eagerly suckling on his tongue. You’re unsure whether it was from your lavish dinner prior or whether it’s just how hazy your brain is, but you’re finding him to taste almost…sweet.

And your eyes roll to the back of your head as you do so-

“Heh-” Sukuna manages to pant out between kisses, open-mouthed and hot. “Now both pairs of pretty lips are sucking on my tongue.”

And your jaw…drops- only for him to use the opportunity to kiss you even deeper.

Making you ride his stomach mouth whilst he kisses you stupid - his tongue probing inwards, inwards, inwards in looooong slick thrusts. Scrapin’ every orifice inside but especially bending around to hit your g-spot. 

You’re sure your body jolts as you feel the sudden zaps of charged pleasure, setting your body positively alight. “I-I’m so close, master.” You pout, “I must- hah- cum.”

“Must, hm?” Sukuna mutters - almost to himself. “And am I to believe that my human deserves to cum? Am I to believe that she is ready to take both my cocks?”

Nodding fervently, “Y-yes—yes, please-”

“Am I to believe that she will have no trouble taking me down to the very womb?”

“Yes-”

Crimson eyes narrow, “I will not slow down, needy human. Am I to believe that-”

“Yes-” Just so gone on your impending high. So close. 

And to your surprise, the King merely chuckles as you’re interrupting him - had this been anyone else, then they would have found themselves being made an example of. But you…you’re finding yourself jerked almost aggressively upwards as he bucks his hips, more to run the ridges of his cursed tastebuds along the interior of your walls. Harder. Faster.

You hurtle straight into your high at an incredible pace-

“If you had let your King finish…” It’s the last thing you’re hearing before the pleasure overtakes you - Sukuna’s rumbling tone. “-then perhaps you would have known my question was whether I’m to believe you shall give me an heir in my name.”

His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.

His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.

But you’re unable to articulate anything more than a few whimpers n’ grunts - because the waves of your orgasm that overtake you are enough to leave you numb. Enough to leave you babbling. Enough to leave you shaking on top of Sukuna’s toned body as he shovels his fat tongue in and out.

In and out. In and out.

The way his overlarge tongue curved was just perfect for hittin’ every spot, and you’re feeling him time out your peaks perfectly—knowing juuust when the surges of your dopamine were at their highest. 

Just then, he’d slam! his flattened tastebuds onto the exact spot of your nerves. Fingers nothing but a dizzying blur between your legs as he rolls his thumb over your clit, “Gonna take my t-tongue-” Sukuna spits between honed canines, “Gonna take my cocks then- gonna take my seed.”

“Sh-shiiiiit—” You yowl, “It feels so good, Kuna-”

“That’s ‘master’ to you.” He scoffs, nose sliding down the column of your throat. Sukuna takes one more look at the way you’re swallowing him up - at the way you grind deeper to stuff his glistening muscle between your pussylips, and shivers. “Or…consider yourself lucky to be shown mercy this time, human. Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Tch-”

And with that said, it’s not long before you’re completely and utterly fucked through your orgasm by the mouth on his stomach—through every tiny shred n’ ounce of pleasure. 

Once Sukuna feels your quiverin’ pussy finish, he’s pulling out of you with the most lecherous squelch! Letting your thighs drape limply around his waist for a few seconds- that’s as long as the King can manage before he’s sitting up on the futon and flipping the two of you around.

So that your back was against the mattress. So that your head was hitting the pillows.

Sukuna crawls his massive figure down the length of your body- four arms pinning back your slick-sheened legs as he pushes his head between them. He’s wasting no time before digging his larger-than-mortal nose between your sodden pussylips and giving your cunt a good liiiiiiiiick of his actual tongue - this time tasting you with his actual mouth.

“Shit—” You’re surging up from your comfortable position, sparks sizzling in your brain. “A-again, Kuna?”

“Your master never had his fill.”

And with that said, he’s lavishin’ your pussy with countless long licks and dribbles. Lips glued to your folds. Breathing through his nose. Sukuna darts his tongue out - thick, though definitely not to the extent of his stomach mouth’s - and zig-zags it across your entrance.

Easing his wet muscle inside—inside and inside. He’s scourin’ every inch of your walls as though to check every mark he’s made before. Just so tender. 

The velvety inches of his tastebuds flickering in and out- five inches long, you’re realizing automatically. Far longer than a normal human’s.

And it just drives you insane. 

The edges of his fangs nip either side of your entrance - Sukuna had already left you so raw with his cursed tongue prior, so now it’s only taking a few seconds before he’s getting you to spray your orgasmic juices all over his mouth once more—“K-Kuna, I’m close.”

He hums at the feeling of your trembling fingers weaving into his pink hair, “Close? Stupid brat, you’re already cumming.”

The wetness of your cunt spills down his chin.

And Sukuna’s dragging his tongue iiiiiiiiiiiin and out at a constant, sloppy pace to get you through your high. To elongate it. Curving the pointed tip of his tongue against your g-spot - he holds it there for a few seconds just to feel you shake n’ clench around him.

Before he’s breathing through his nostrils and starting to synchronize your peaks with the slashes of his tongue. “Mhmmmm—” He moans out sultry vibrations, they send shockwaves up your spine. “Yes- fuck, yes. I believe this pussy is ready for me.”

Raging through you hard and fast - he doesn’t have much time before your legs start to twitch cutely with overstimulation. Tears sheening down your face. Your jaw unfastened with the most sinful noises. 

Sukuna’s prominent nose pushes up against your clit and you’re crying out—

Looking up at you with hungry, half-lidded eyes. “I believe this pussy is ready to be my queen.”

With the pins and needles of your last two orgasms still coursing through your body, it’s nothing but a blur to you as Sukuna hovers his large body over yours once more. And it’s as if one second you’re blinking up into his handsome face, and in the next—you’re finding him laid back against the mattress- and you laid back against him. 

Your head rests against his collarbone. Your back was arched against his stomach mouth.

Your legs were dangling off somewhere around his lower half- until Sukuna reaches two of his powerful arms down to position you properly. First, he’s grabbing either side of your waist and aligning you with where his clothed erections were—then he’s spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open.

Finally, he’s cupping his clawed hands underneath your thighs and pulling them up, up, up, upwards—until they were stretched out almost beyond your ears. And Sukuna was just basking proudly in this rude full nelson that he’d manhandled you into.

Gruff laugh echoing by the side of your ear, “And now…” In the corner of your teary peripherals, you’re seeing his other two arms bend to your lower half. “-to check for myself whether this pussy can really follow orders…”

Your kimono was already an utter mess- and Sukuna doesn’t have to do much to have it bunched around your naked hips. Your cunt all glistening with slick n’ saliva from earlier—hissing at the heated air that’s hitting you. “Shit…I need you so badly, master.”

“Then I expect you to take every inch.” He replies ominously. Just then, his eager fingers drop to the hemline of his pants. “I expect you to take every drop-”

And he’s tugging.

Only for your jaw to fall—

Because Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just huge - you’d already expected as much, given his height and other physical prowess. But he was just staggering.

Just like the rest of him, there was double the number of appendages as there would be on a normal human. Two achingly-hard cocks stacked on top of each other. Inches upon inches. Despite your counting challenge earlier, you’re having trouble registering the sheer lengths that he could possibly be - ten…no….twelve? Perhaps even longer. Though you’re noticing that the upper one was just the slightest bit longer than the other.

Both just as girthy. 

Round and reddened. The plump, puckered tips upon their ends throbbed with carnal desire- oozing out generous helpings of milky-white precum that dribble down the front of your cunt. It mixes with the mess already made before, and leaves your thighs sticky with need. 

Heavy ballsack twitching underneath his second shaft. So many veins that you lose count.

“K-Kuna—” You’re whimpering as he starts to rub the shafts of his two cocks between your swollen pussylips. Pushin’ them apart and making space for his ruthless girths instead, “Want it inside, Kuna- hck! I really crave you inside me…”

“Oh, little human…” He coos from above. Larger face craning down next to yours, “Did you really believe that I was hesitating? That I was waiting for you?”

“I suppose…”

“Here’s where you are mistaken, my puny thing.” Sukuna trundles, and you don’t have to look behind to know that his sharp fangs were making an appearance. “I am no kindred man.”

A shiver runs down your spine.

And before you can open your mouth to ask what exactly he meant—his rounded tips press against your wettened crevice. Just the sweetest dual pecks, they’re letting out harsh slurps! as he starts to slip around your needy hole. “I wasn’t waiting for your body to get ready, as you so might have believed.”

“Th-then—?” You sob.

“I was waiting…” Your body bucks down into his, your hands reach up to grab at his pinkish locks and- 

And your dagger slips out.

His voice grows excited. “I was waiting-” Both of you reach for it at the same time, Sukuna with his four arms and you with your two. Your heart stutters- your hand closes around the thick, metallic hilt—“…for a distraction.”

Several things are happening at once: for one, Sukuna finally forgoes teasin’ at your readied hole to instead scour his cocks inside - fucking in with a long, hard thrust. Deeeeeeeply pressing against your cervix—it feels as though he’s splitting you sensually from the inside out, and you’ve never felt anything better.

And then you’re closing your fingers around the blade - tight - and aiming behind you to press the sharpened edge of it against his throat. 

You knew you’d struck your target. Especially when you feel the dagger tremble as he chuckles- chuckles. The King of Curses has the audacity to chuckle.

When you have a weapon to his throat.

You’re unsure whether it was overconfidence or something else entirely- but his hips don’t falter for a single second as he rams his swabbin’ tips thoroughly inwards—thumping away at the back of your pussy. Your ears sizzle with the slamming impact of skin-on-skin, “And so?” He mutters to you, “For what reason do you stall? Do it.”

You grit your teeth, blade pressing against his sunkissed skin until a bead of crimson peppers out. “Do you believe that I am too cowardly to do so?”

“Forbid the thought.” Sukuna hums, “A King assassinated by his favorite concubine? How romantic. I merely implore you to hasten-”

“I shall—”

“So do it.”

“Do not regret-”

“Do it.” 

In fact, he leans in even closer as though to help you.

He’s fucking you deep from the rounded orifice of your cunt, to the very depths of your womb. Pulse thundering inside - until it felt like he was taking over every single part of you—until your teeth were set on edge, and the thud-thud-thudding of his matching cocktips was all that you could think of. 

Your hand trembles around the hilt.

Your lips wobble with emotion.

Your eyes lock deeply with Sukuna’s own hellishly crimson ones, and-

And the dagger falls gently onto the cotton futon.

Sukuna’s body ripples with a sensation that could’ve been anything from pleasure, to victory, to utter glee—but most of all, his tone just sounded awed. 

“I knew there was something special about you, woman.”

And then you’re being crushed in Sukuna’s arms as far back as you would go - as high as your legs could reach above your head, as curvaceously as your spine could bend against his core. He’s manhandling you like nothing but a ragdoll above him—plastered to his muscular back, you’re at the mercy of his vicious thrust after thrust.

The stretch was just incredible.

The stretch was like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Two thick, loooooooong shafts that were mazin’ between your sopping pussylips- the rounded edges of their cockheads manage to swerve your tight walls apart. Jostling against one another. Throbbing in synchronization inside you - ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Scraping his thumping veins inside and reaching aaaall across every nook, orifice, and cranny. Just so big.

Sukuna himself grunts out in pleasure as his cocks manage to press through the slight resistance you still maintained - his cursed tongue had stretched you out incredibly, and he’s groaning out in pleasure as his cocks manage to slide against one another and then against you- “And now- hah, and now I believe you remember what you promised me?”

“Promised?” Your lashes flutter open, “I-I’m afraid…”

“You promised me an heir.”

Your maw droops open. Your heart starts to race.

Your cunt’s drooling out your arousal at the prospect faster than you could register it- and Sukuna feels the sploshin’ leaks around his thickened bases. His grin stretches as he takes in your unspoken reaction, and before you know it—both sliding cocks are knocking at the door to your very womb-

“And I’m not Ryomen Sukuna if I don’t fuck one into you tonight, brat.”

Rough thrusts. Crushing you in his big, beefy arms. 

Closer and closer. Tighter and tighter. 

If you thought that you’d been treated like a ragdoll earlier- then you’d been lucky. Because now you’re pressed between his bulging biceps and his pecs, sweat covering both your bodies in a thin sheen as your movements grow more and more fervent—“Fuck a- hah, fuck my heir into you.” Sukuna was barely speaking by now - short, rasping bursts. “Fuck you so big and fuuuuuuuull.”

Running two hands down your front—“Master, I have doubts that it gets much more full than this.”

And he lets out what almost sounds like a guffaw, “It can.”

“Wh-what do you mean- oh.”

And all this time, you’d been damn thankful that Sukuna had chosen to stretch you out on his oversized tongue first—how else would you have fit him so easily? Softenin’ up the snug exterior of your channel. Mapping out your sweetest spots. 

Because it just made it even easier to slip inside—it just made it sooooo much more convenient for his dual tips to probe open your wet cunt. Inching and easing.

But then you’re starting to feel a third intrusion.

Then you’re starting to feel his needy tongue once more.

You’re gasping- 

The slightest, smallest ticklish sensation of…none other than his cursed mouth dragging down the inner sorts of your thighs. Just teasing. Just the roughened ridges of his tastebuds, long enough that he can snake them down and flatten them over that soft skin beside your cunt.

And in a matter of mere moments, Sukuna’s rugged hands settle deeper against your skin. Tight. Tough. He’s double-checking to make sure that your restless hips couldn’t skin away- before reeling his hips back and penetrating you in longer, harder ruts—each rude slammin’ of his cocks accompanied by the soothing laps of his cursed tongue. 

“Y-yet again—?” You’re blabbering out stupidly. Tears falling in big, bulbous beads down either of your cheeks and ending up smeared, “Kuna-”

“Mhmmmm.” He hums out - and you could almost hear the smugness in it. The way his piercing canines make an appearance as he says, “It’s for your own good, brat.” One of his hands lifts off of your sweat-covered body - folded like a lawnchair - and Sukuna runs it down your middle.

He stops right above where both his swabbin’ cocks and his tongue had started to form a tiny bulge at your stomach—“S-sensitive-”

“Exactly.” He sounds so content with himself. So damn content.

Those handsome lips - both pairs of them - quirk further upwards as he’s massaging the front of your stomach—particularly over that one spot where you’re stuffed till you’re bloated. Pressing down-down-dooooown- “And how shall this puny human body handle carrying my heir, hm?” He growls as he accelerates his ruts, “How?”

Mouth sobbing open in answer.

You're gripping onto either side of his muscular body and swervin’ your hips in response- unsure whether you wanted to rut back down for more or just…

“Running away?” Sukuna's dangerous trundle sounds from behind you, and the clasp he has on your shuddering body only grows stronger. Before you know it, you’re being manhandled like nothing but his favorite toy and shoved right back onto his twin erections-

He continues, “If you can’t handle two of my cocks—” They’re emptying out at the bottom of your pussy with two distinct thuds! The top one first, and then the squeezin’ of the latter. “If you can’t even handle my tongue…the babies of my lineage tend to be large.” 

Palm pressing down on your stomach.

“Does this pretty womb have enough space?”

And there’s nothing more for you to do but throw your head backwards and buck up into his awaiting arms. He’s only seeming to crush you even deeper against his toned body, “It does-”

“What was that?” One pink brow raises.

“I s-said it does—it does.” You’re blabbering away, thighs attempting to wrangle downwards so that you can steady yourself. But the only thing that’s succeeding in doing is making Sukuna tighten his restraint on you maddeningly - “I can fit even more of you- hngh, I can fit your…”

He grins- and this time it’s his second mouth that hisses demandingly at you. “Say it.”

“Heir in here…” And if this was any other time - if you’d been in any clearer of a state of mind - you wouldn’t have said such embarrassing words in your lifetime. And yet, here you were—bouncin’ down welcomingly into Sukuna’s largely gaped maw. “I want it, Kuna.”

“Heh?” He grins, “Then brace yourself.”

And it’s the only warning you’re getting - honestly, you’re surprised to realize that he’d given you any at all. 

Because in the next few seconds- his cursed mouth goes from lappin’ away at the sweet, sweet juices coating the edges of your cunt—to slithering between those puffy pussylips of yours and attempting to devour your pussy whole again.

Two arms laced behind your clammy scalp. Two more arms reaching down to toy with your overstimulated pussy.

“O-oh gods-” Hiccuping through your tears as you start to feel the pleasurable burn of your pussylips stretchin’ once more.

Wider and wider.

Deeper and deeper.

In, in, and in—

Sukuna's second mouth tenderly whips apart your wet walls—with the most lecherous squeeeelch! he's then attempting to stroke his tongue inwards between the thrusts of his dual cocks. Sharp, stabbing thrusts. Just to fit inside.

Three- three of his sinful appendages attempting to stuff you all full - you're losing your mind already with his throbbing cocks, but now Sukuna's tongue was a different sort of texture altogether that was just leaving you on the verge of-

“You can cum.” The King sputters out against your temple, lips moving what seems like a mile a minute. “But you have to remember to reward me with a strong heir after, hm?” Tap-tapping at the tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “Hafta give me one with my powers. Hafta give me one that- hngh, I can train into the strongest. Hafta give me one with- haaaah…” He breathes out laboriously, “-that smile.”

Your eyes shoot open as you’re registering exactly what he’s uttered, “Kuna…fuck, it feels so good.”

“Please…” And it might just be the first time that you’ve witnessed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna utter a word of plea since you’ve met him. That chiselled cheek of his nuzzles down the side of your temple, “-call me your husband.”

Oh.

Oh.

You’re barely even given enough time to let the entire ordeal sink of having him inside you sink in- before the wooden panels beneath the futon creeeeeeak—! And Sukuna’s arching his hips fully off of the dampened mattress, entering his entire greedy lengths into your pussy.

Again and again.

Reeling back until it was only the plump, glossy tips kissin’ at your entrance - before drag-drag-dragging his pulsating length inwards. In-between he just barely manages to squeeze his textured tongue inside.

Repeating once. Twice. Thrice. So many times that you’ve lost count, and you’re barely in control of your own ministrations as a third hand stuffs between your pussylips and squeezes your neglected clit.

And then your overstimulation’s hitting you all at once. All at once.

And Sukuna realizes it before you do- when you’re shivering primally on top of him and cumming once more. Around his cocks. Around his mouth. It’s such a white-hot pleasure that bursts stars behind your eyelids, creating heat at the tips of your toes and then sending it searing through every vessel within you-  your body shakes in his hold as the dopamine courses right through you. 

His lips crack into a chuckle, and he’s cooing softly down at you as he ruts his hips even harder—fucking you through every peak. “Theeeeeere, there…” Something almost sweet- though you know better than to expect sweet from Ryomen Sukuna. “My poor human couldn’t handle it?”

“I-I can…” You’re arguing back- even though your answer sounds like nothing but a jumbled mess of syllables. The sheer force of the high that wracks through you is enough to make your head spin, thighs shake—fucked up, up, and up by his never-ending hips. 

And he can only smile, “Is that so…? Then perhaps my fierce concubine won’t mind if I just—speed up a little bit.”

Even more?

Your mouth drops as you’re perhaps getting ready to beg for mercy- before even the choked-up syllables at your throat start getting fucked back down by his roverin’ tips.

Rubbing their flared ridges across every spot of your insides, dribblin’ out gooey precum into the smallest nooks and crannies. You’re feeling the sultry slickness of it puddling up deep inside you, and it’s almost enough to send you raging right into another high-

“K-Kuna—!” Your voice cracks.

“I know, heh.” He snickers, deep and hoarse. “I can feel this pussy begging even more f’me.” A few more vicious strokes and you’re feeling another faint arc of pleasure that you’re sure must be your nth high of the night. 

Hard and fast.

Hitting through every one of your bundled nerves- but especially that g-spot he’d bruised by now. Two large circular marks in the exact shape and circumference of his bludgeoning tips - they were slapping at two separate times—one after the other. Ba-dump! Ba-dump! 

Except…this time, Sukuna’s own thickened cocks twitch inside of you as you’re clenchin’ through your high-

“And don’t you worry, brat…” He growls from behind, “This time, your husband’s not too far behind—”

Your eyes flutter open in pure shock- and one of his hands reaches down to tilt your chin to look at him. “Shit-”

“Say it f’me.” Sukuna rasps, “Say it- call me your husband while I cum inside.”

And who were you to deny an order from the King himself? 

The words are barely escaping your lips—“C-cum inside me, husband…”

Before the strongest sorcerer in history throws his head back and jerks his hips upwards- letting the pouring wads of his cum plug your pussy up twofold. What’s better than one of his cocks seeping deeply at your innards? Two of them…There are so many gooey wads of it trickling all deeeeep inside- splashin’ against the spongy layer of your cervix. Swashing down your tight channel.

You’re shuddering as you feel the delicious sensation of him sprayin’ inside you - a sheer volume that ends up frothin’ in-between your legs. A circle of white forms around both of Sukuna’s thick bases. “There we go-” He snarls. “There- there, we go…”

“Shit—it feels so, ngh…” You don’t even have the words. Your body quakes as his ridged tastebuds start tickling the outer parts of your pussy. Long, luscious licks - it’s enough to make you cum again.

“And this baby shall become my heir.” Sukuna whispers - mostly to himself than anything. He runs a hand down the sweat front of your body, left ever-so-slightly more inflated with his constantly-pumping cum. “This baby shall be taught to become the strongest. This baby shall be- hah, feared amongst the nation’s lands and beyond…” His fanged smile grows, “Known by my name, I shall teach this baby to protect its mother with their life.”

The fatness of his tongue dips between your swollen pussylips- lapping again and again. He’s torn between drinkin’ up and pushing back the pearly white beads of cum that kept on leaking from you.

And you’re merely draped limply over his front. Crushed to his powerful body. 

“And this baby’s gonna become the most precious thing in this- hah, estate…” You feel him press a kiss to your temple, “-alongside you, of course, Your Majesty.”

“Majesty…?”

“The Queen of Curses.”

For who could’ve tamed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna?

In no time, he’s finally fucked himself into your pussy through his high- and it’s a tangled mess of limbs and moans as Sukuna attempts to pull out. Before realizing that his cocks were probed in too deeply, before realizing that that would mean letting his pool of cum spread out of your cunt.

Losing all his hard work.

And so he sniffs haughtily, reaching one pair of his hands up into the air and clicking-

In a split-second, you’re finding your back against the pillows. As if in a dream, you’re blinking up to stare into Sukuna’s handsome face—two hands braced upon either side of your head, both cocks still shovelled deeply inside of you. Throbbing. Did he just…did he just use his powers to change-

“Yes.” He answers your unspoken question- of perhaps it had been spoken, you’re too drunk on his cocks to realize whether or not you’d blabbered it out loud. “I call it…teleporting.” 

“Th-that should be outlawed-” You’re gasping. The air around you felt tightened with what you assumed must be his cursed energy - you’d heard the stories about them. Who didn’t?

And he merely hums, “I am the law, woman.”

Without another word, one of his four hands snake between your legs- his cursed second mouth had finished up lappin’ at the coat of cum around your thighs. And he licks his lips and belches almost gluttonously once Sukuna reaches down to cup your pussy and—

“O-oh.” Something buzzes between your overstimulated legs. 

Almost as soon as it’d started, it’s over- and Sukuna pulls his hand away—and then his rugged cocks. Letting out the most lecherous sluuuuurp! as he’s reeling his hips away, rounded tips funnel out from between your pussylips and leaving such a-

Wait…your eyes widen. There was no mess - whatever technique that Sukuna had collected between your legs stopped his cum from leaking out.

And the King of Curses wastes no time waiting for your surprise to register- not before letting out a deep snicker. He straightens his bulky body n’ edges himself closer—and before you know it, you’re suddenly finding your head straddled by Sukuna’s meaty thighs.

His dual, furiously-hot erections slapping their shafts down onto your readied face.

Both fanged mouths grin, “Now…open, human.”

And you just knew he was about to make you take both.

A/N. DJSFHSJKHS-

A servant, dignified and aloof, came. They, with their white hair stained with crimson, took one look at you before making a silent decision. 

Carried by goblin-looking creatures inside the mountain, which parted as though unhinging its jaw, you could do nothing but accept that you were going to be eaten up by the very monsters that children were warned about.

Navigating the carved out hallways of the mountain, they threw you in the throne room. Jagged stone walls surrounded you. Glowing red rocks were embedded in the rocks and lit torches illuminated the grand space. You were laying on the rolled out red carpet, staring up at a giant of a being. 

There he was.

Sukuna Ryomen.

He was resting his head on one of his four arms, legs crossed, with all four eyes gazing down at you. He looked bored. 

“What is this?” he drawled.

The same servant you first met stepped up, head bowed humbly. They said, “Entertainment, my Lord.”

“Entertainment?” the king repeated, tasting the word. “Not a snack? Interesting. How, pray tell, will this woman entertain me, if not with the taste of her flesh, Uraume?”

It was an absurd situation — they were discussing you as if you weren’t there, as if you didn’t have ears, as if you were a pet the servant had picked up as a gift. Although, it was at least a small blessing that you hadn’t been killed on the spot, you supposed. The thought, however, didn’t permit much relief when unimaginable torture could have awaited you.

‘Uraume’ answered, “The humans intended for her to be your wife, my Lord. Perhaps you could humour them with brief belief that they have been spared from their inevitable fate.”

At that, Sukuna hummed.

His eyes met your own then. They inspected you through your very soul. You felt their branding touch rifling through your essence. Something passed in them, something to which you could not put words. 

Finally, he waved a lazy hand, and said, “Very well.”

The servants rushed to take you away, afraid to waste a single second. 

You’ve been living in a room somewhere in the heart of the mountain since. 

It’s been about a week. 

Meals on a tray are served to you three times a day. Porridge, fruits, bread, the sorts. You do your best not to eat much; they might have poisoned it. 

Every day, every hour, is spent anticipating the wooden doors being kicked down, waiting for the Curse King to forgo delaying your fate and slicing your head off your shoulders with one, clean cut. So far, nothing yet. 

In fact, you have not seen another soul since. 

The first night, you couldn’t sleep, afraid that he would take the villagers up on the offer to make you his real bride, by plunging his cock into you and stealing your maidenhead. It didn’t, and hasn’t, happened. But ‘yet’ looms over you perpetually. 

Your one consolation is that sleep comes to you easily now.

It’s all you can do — the room is barren of books, of people, of art. Only a bed, a table, and a chamber pot with a bucket of water decorate it. There are no windows with which you can view the outside world, can tell what time of day it is, can escape through, or jump off. Only your body’s natural instincts inform you when morning and time to slumber has arrived. 

Though…

With the days blurring, and perpetual and dim light of the glowing rocks remaining unchanged, it’s beginning to grow more and more difficult to tell left from right. 

The doors are unlocked. 

That was the first thing you tested when you were placed here. 

Of course you’ve considered walking out of the room, if only to have a change of scenery. You’ve also considered escaping. But your thoughts would always end up at ‘escaping to where?’

You’ve been abandoned by your village, by your family. They would not accept you. They would see your return as a sign that the Curse King had rejected their sacrifice and would be coming to collect the debt. In other words, you’d be seen as a bad omen. 

It was your destiny to die, whether by the hands of your family or by the hands of the beast they were afraid of.

So if death is a certainty, why would you fear it?

That’s the final thought that pushes you out of bed and to the door. Your hand hesitated for a second. Then it was sure. You opened it, body tense. 

No one’s outside. No guard, no goblins, no king.

You pad out, feet bare and wearing only a nightgown. How deep inside the mountain are you, you wonder. There’s a draught blowing past, but no sound of the forest to fill the space. No voices. No footsteps. No life.

“Where is everyone?” you mutter, padding forward.

Who can say how long you wander through the tunnels? 

It feels like it’s been hours, though with the way time seems to pass differently, it could also have only been mere minutes. 

Eventually, you spot light coming from a hollow in the walls. Carefully and with bated breath, you peer inside.

Steam wafts over your face.

It’s warm — startlingly so against the chill that seems to cling to every corridor of the mountain. You hesitate again, also only a moment before stepping inside. 

The ceiling arches high above, rough stone glistening with condensation, droplets forming and falling in slow, steady rhythms that echo softly in the space. The air is thick, humid, curling around your skin. It tickles.

At the centre of the chamber lies a pool.

It’s set into a wide, uneven basin in the ground. The water glows faintly from beneath, lit by the same red-veined stones embedded along the walls, but here their light is softened, diffused through the steam until it casts everything in a hazy, molten glow.

The surface of the water ripples lazily, disturbed by unseen currents, by the quiet bubbling from somewhere deep below. Heat rises from it in waves, beckoning, almost inviting.

Who knew something like this existed inside a mountain?

Carefully, you approach the edge of the pool, crouching slightly as you extend a hand. Your fingers hover for a second before dipping into the water.

Hot.

But not scalding.

“A bath,” you mumble, smiling.

Here, of all places.

The servants had given you a bed to sleep on, a table to eat at, and a pot to do your business in that seemed to be cleaned out magically without you ever seeing anyone. What they hadn’t granted, however, is the luxury of a bath. Only a bucket to and a rag to clean yourself with. 

You glance back toward the tunnel, as if half-expecting someone, something, to be watching. But there’s nothing and no one. Only the distant drip of water and the low hum of the mountain breathing around you.

Your reflection stares back at you from the shifting surface, blurred by steam and movement. The quiet stretches.

If you’ll be killed for stepping outside your room, at least you’ll die clean and fresh. 

Shrugging off your nightgown, you dip your toe in the water, then your leg and the other, and soon you’re fully emerged. 

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you moan, letting the water soothe the aches in your bones. You sink deeper. The heat swallows you whole, up to your shoulders, then your chin. Your eyes flutter shut as you tilt your head back, strands of your hair clinging damply to your skin.

For a moment, just a moment, you forget. Forget the mountain, the monsters, the fate waiting patiently for you somewhere in its depths. The tension bleeds out of your limbs, your breathing slowing, evening out as the warmth seeps into you.

You drift, arms floating lazily at your sides.

A soft sigh escapes you. This is just like swimming in the lake near the village, except it’s warm and lovely and soothing. 

It’s…peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Your eyes open.

Something feels…off suddenly. The water, once gently lapping, stills in a way that isn’t natural. The faint bubbling from below seems to deepen, shift. Like something moving far beneath the surface.

Your body goes rigid.

Slowly, you glance down. The water is dark there. Deeper than it should be. The glow from the stones doesn’t quite reach the bottom — it falls away into shadow, into something that looks less like a pool and more like a pit.

A pit that could swallow you whole.

Your breath catches. 

“…Hello?” you call softly, though you don’t know why.

The surface trembles.

Something moves.

Your heart lurches into your throat. Instinct kicks in before thought does. You turn sharply, water sloshing as you begin to move, arms cutting through the surface, making for the edge.

Too slow.

Something clasps your ankle.

A gasp tears right through you, kicking hard, panic surging white-hot through your veins. “No!”

It coils.

Grabs.

Your leg is yanked downward with terrifying force.

The world flips. Water crashes over your head as you’re dragged under, your scream swallowed instantly. You thrash, clawing at nothing, lungs burning whilst bubbles tear from your mouth. Your hands grasp blindly, trying to find purchase, to find anything.

A shape.

A body.

You strike it. Push against it. Kick, struggle, fight with everything in you, nails scraping against something solid, unyielding. 

Then it lets go.

You don’t wait.

You surge upward, breaking through the surface with a ragged gasp, coughing, choking on water as you scramble for the edge. Your hands slap against the stone, slipping once before catching, dragging yourself up just enough to cling to it. Your whole body trembles violently.

Air. You need air. 

You suck it in greedily, chest heaving, water dripping from your lashes as your eyes dart wildly across the pool. “W-what…” you choke out, voice shaking. 

A sound answers you. A low, amused exhale.

Your blood runs cold. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your head.

He’s here.

The King of Curses.

Sukuna lounges against the inner ledge of the pool as though he’s always been there. One arm is slung lazily over the stone behind him, another resting loosely at his side, droplets sliding down the planes of his skin. And the remaining two are folded under the water.

He’s watching you. 

No, observing you. 

That smirk curls at his lips, sharp and satisfied, eyes glinting with something dark and entertained. “Well,” he drawls, voice echoing low against the stone walls, “your floundering was amusing.”

“W-why,” you begin, gulping air and frantically shoving the wet hair clinging away from your face, “why did you do that?”

A hum floats through the air, carried by the steam. It sweeps your skin. Sukuna says, “Because I could.” Then he barks a laugh. “When I came here to wash the stink of my latest massacre, I did not expect to find a human bathing in my onsen. How brazen of you.”

When he snaps his fingers together, you flinch. 

Uraume appears. 

Their head is downcast. They don’t look at your body, which you suddenly remember is bare and visible through the clear water. You throw your arms over your private parts. 

“Who is this woman and why have you not killed her upon her first step of trespass?” he asks his servant. Sukuna doesn’t sound mad. Only curious. 

“Because she is your bride, my Lord.”

You flinch at the term. 

Sukuna barks a laugh again. “My bride? My bride! How comical that I would forget I have one.” He turns to you, eyes narrowing in with interest. “Why have you only now appeared before me?”

Gulping, you tentatively answer, “I did not think you would want to see me. And I’m sorry I intruded—”

“Wise,” he says, one of his massive arms running through his wet hair. “I am not usually fond of seeing humans; you are all so hideous and constantly quivering in my presence.”

There’s no possible way to reply to that, not without getting your blood spilled for insolence. 

He stands upon the ledge and exits the pool. 

He’s completely naked, as you are. His broad back, the impressive muscles that make it up, the perfectly symmetrical tattoos. He turns. His cocks swings with the movement. You quickly avert your eyes, cheeks warm. 

If Sukuna notices that you noticed, he doesn’t say. Only, “Try not to drown — my pet swims beneath but he has already had his fill. Do not fatten him with your flesh.”

When you hurriedly climb out, squealing, his laughter echoes, filling the space even once his body, and his servant’s, have left. 

You kneel on the smooth ground, panting, soaked and dripping, and thinking one thing:

The Curse King has a sense of humour.

And two giant cocks.

.

.

.

The next day, you find yourself back at the pool. 

You tell yourself it’s simply because you want to bathe, but perhaps if you were more honest with yourself, you’d accept that maybe you were curious to see if he’d be there. 

And he is.

Sukuna leans against the very same ledge he had been yesterday. He watches your every move, from when you first step in, to when you shyly shrug off your nightgown, and when you submerge yourself in the warm water.

Something has brought you here. 

A pull you could not deny.

Thinking too much about it gives you a headache, so you let your body move on its own, unhindered by logic, by your mind’s concerns. You want to bathe, to be clean. He hadn’t killed you yesterday, and that counts for something. 

Of course, you know the smart thing to do would be to not push it, to understand that two run-ins with him that didn’t lead to immediate death doesn’t mean a third would end the same, to count your blessings. 

But…

Bath.

He says nothing, only runs a finger across the seam of his lips as his eyes drink up every shift of your body.

Boldly, albeit shakily, you ask, “Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

Sukuna’s eyes glint. 

“I wonder the same thing myself.”

That’s not an answer, you note. But you don’t poke, scared if you do, if you push your limits more than you already have, he’ll snap your head as easily as he had snapped his fingers. 

The way his eyes pin you down on the ledge opposite him has you squirming in your seat. It’s too intense. Too strong. Too dizzying. So you try to pretend it’s not cascading down the skin visible to him; you push forward, wading in the water. You stare at the ceiling, at the distance, at the darkness of the depths, at anything but him. 

“My village offered me as sacrifice,” you remind him. “Will you spare them?”

Somewhere, he lazily replies, “I have yet to decide.”

Humming, as though you thought as much, you wonder aloud, “What will you do with me? I cannot imagine that the King of Curses would find much use in a human wife.”

“No, neither can I,” Sukuna drawls.

On and on, you swim. Arms cut through the water in slow, steady strokes, legs kicking behind you in a rhythm that’s begun to feel automatic. There’s no sense of direction, no shore to aim for, just the endless stretch of water surrounding you, thick and quiet, swallowing any sound you might make. Time slips, dissolves, until all that remains is movement for the sake of movement.

Then, as you turn, your hand meets something solid. 

The impact is soft but jarring, your palm flattening instinctively against it. A wall. Smooth, unmoving, impossibly present where there had only ever been open water.

You gasp. 

Sukuna stands behind you. 

The bottom of the pool had risen. You still cannot reach it, but you’re aware that if you tried to, the water’s surface would be just above your head. The pool is under his command, bending to his will. How incredible.

Bare, wet skin meets bare, wet skin. 

The heat of his body is hotter than that of the water. 

He doesn’t step away despite how the water seems to be pushing you to him. 

How did he get to you so fast? Last you saw, he was still sitting on the ledge. No, perhaps the better question is, why had he moved closer to you at all?

Hands grab your ribs. You gasp. They’re firm, callused. Burning.

“Wife?” he repeats, wide smirk revealing rows of flesh-tearing teeth. “You are not my wife. You are my bride. I am sure even a puny, little thing like you understand that there is a process to be followed, yes?”

A nail flicks your nipple under the water. 

You let out a shuddery breath. 

The other two hands grip the back of your thighs, lifting them till they’re wrapping around his hips. The top half of your body has emerged from the water, water dripping down. You throw your arms around his neck, a reflex to grab onto something before you fall. 

Breasts presses to his chest. He must feel how hard your nipples are. You’re flushed with embarrassment, and an acute awareness of how much bigger his own body is to yours — if he wanted to, he could crush you with his bare hands.

Sukuna’s sharp fangs glint at the very peaks as he runs his tongue over them. “For you to be my wife, we would have to observe tradition. Do you understand what I refer to, little human?”

Breathless, you answer with your own question: “Do you refer to the wedding night, my Lord?”

One of his cocks pokes your entrance. You tense up. 

You’ve seen their size; they are inhumanly big. They could not fit inside you, not without the preparation that the women in your village had giggled about, perhaps not even with.

But he doesn’t shove it inside you all in one go. 

He doesn’t shove it inside at all.

The king merely slides you down his body, just a little, until that cock is sandwiched between your bodies. 

It bumps a good spot on your cunt. You gasp.

“I do,” Sukuna says, huffing in amusement at your reaction. “I admit I have not been married before myself, but it is one aspect I am curious about.”

His strong hands are moving you up and down, testing every little sound that leaves your lips. And you’re letting him.

Is there something in the water? Some elixir that’s making you susceptible to his whims? An aphrodisiac stimulating wetness out of your pussy?

He must feel it, must feel how it drips down his length. Just like how you can feel the prominent veins of a cock that’s grown fully erect without you noticing. How long has he been like this? Since you walked in? Before?

Your nipples are scraping his chest. The sensation has you arching closer to him, grip around his body tightening. “M-my Lord!”

Sukuna tuts, moving you up and down like you’re a mere toy for his pleasure. He scolds, “That is not my name.”

“Sukuna?” you experimentally mutter the words. His cock throbs. You both groan. “S-something’s happening.”

Hips moving on their own, you feel as though you’ve been possessed. Your body is no longer your own — some invisible thing is urging you to grind down on his cock, on that burning heat between you, rubbing your clit on his flushed cockhead, on the veins that run up and down his length.

Humming, he says, quite distracted, “Yes. Something is. Allow it to happen. Do not fight it.”

This is pleasure you’ve never felt before. Pleasure you didn’t know truly existed. The women in your village always spoke of sexual pleasure as something only for men, joy a girl would be lucky to experience even once, if their partner was generous and not selfish, which was apparently rare. 

Yet, here is, grinding your clit on the veins of his cock.

He licks his lips. “Go on, little human. Give it to me.”

With a loud moan, you throw your head back. Spasms wrack your body. A heady explosion warms your belly. Spurts of something even warmer paint your chest and stomach. 

Sukuna grunts, fingers digging into the plush of your ass. 

“Fuck.”

Your head falls back on his chest, slumping with sudden languishness. You pant. His chest rises with his own heavier breaths. 

Coming back into your own senses, you tense. Then push away. He lets you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say, in near tears from shame. “Please forgive me, my Lord.”

You wade back, further and further away from him. Blood has pooled in your cheeks. What have you done? If he wasn’t going to kill you before, he certainly will now that you’ve defiled his body.

He pays you no mind. The water around his still body ripples. Sukuna grunts. Sucks in a harsh breath. Water laps at his contracting abdomen. Furious. Violent. You cannot tear your eyes away from the sight. 

Oh god…he’s tugging furiously at his other cock whilst the other floats. His own spend is drying on his chest. 

Mouth watering, you almost step forward to offer a hand.

But you don’t.

Instead, you turn around and make a run back to your room.

.

.

.

You haven’t returned to the pool. Not once in the week that passed.

He might not have killed you but one thing’s certain: you do not want to run into him again. 

Especially now that you’ve caught his attention. Reminded him of your existence. Which is as one would expect: worse than being forgotten. So, so, so much worse. 

For, every day since the meeting at the pool, he’s taken to dropping off severed limbs at your door. Still warm. Still bleeding. Often twitching. First it was a big toe. Then a whole foot. A finger. A hand. An arm. 

And today, a head.

A scream shook the walls once your eyes landed on the thing.

Your scream.

Perhaps it’s adrenaline that urges every stomp your feet make. Perhaps anger or indignation. Whatever it is, it has you near-running through the halls, searching in every hollow for him. 

An almost full circle has been carved at the very end of one tunnel you stumble down. Vines creep out of it. You step inside, heaving, and with fists balled at your side. 

A garden.

It stretches farther than your eyes can follow, lush and sprawling, like the earth itself had been coaxed open and persuaded to bloom in defiance of everything you thought you knew about this place. The ceiling arches high above, fractured in places where thin shafts of pale light filter through, catching on drifting pollen and casting the entire space in a soft, dreamlike haze.

The air is warm here. Heavy with scent.

Sweet. Overripe. Almost intoxicating.

It’s not a human garden, you can tell immediately; the grass is black, as is the soil, and the roots which emerge from the ground are red. Things that couldn’t exist in the same place do, cohabiting quite well. 

Flowers you’ve never seen before crowd the ground in wild abundance — petals like silk and flame, some translucent, others so dark they seem to drink in the light. Vines coil and twist up natural pillars of stone, heavy with blossoms. Leaves skim against your legs as you step forward, wide and waxy, or delicate as lace, each one foreign.

“How…?” you whisper, though there is no answer. It shouldn’t have been possible to have a whole forest inside a mountain. But then again, a great many things shouldn’t have been possible, yet they are.

The path, if it can even be called that, winds forward through the growth, barely visible beneath the encroaching green. It feels endless. Like you could spend your entire life sprinting down the path and never make it to the end.

There, some distance ahead, partially obscured by the curtain of hanging vines, a figure moves.

You freeze.

Bare feet press against the dark soil, soundless. A loose robe hangs from his shoulders, open just enough to reveal the breadth of his chest and the markings etched into his skin stark against the softness of the garden around him. One hand drags idly along the leaves as he walks.

“Hello, little bride.”

It still surprises you that he can utter the word so casually. You don’t flinch this time however. You only glower and maintain the distance. “Why have you been giving me body parts?” you interrogate, grateful that your voice is as firm as when you had rehearsed.

Sukuna lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Why have you not stepped foot outside your room since?”

He resumes walking.

Toward you.

Each step is unhurried, deliberate, crushing petals beneath his feet without a second thought. The garden seems to part for him, bending subtly to his presence, vines shifting, leaves snaking aside in quiet submission.

You don’t move.

You tell yourself you won’t.

Your pulse stutters anyway.

“You fear me,” Sukuna observes, like he’s stating something obvious. His eyes drag over you, taking in every inch, every subtle shift in your breathing, the way your fingers curl tighter at your sides. “And yet you came looking.”

“Because I want to know why you’ve been giving me body parts,” you snap.

“Mm.”

He’s closer now.

Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, even in the thick, perfumed air of the garden. Close enough that you can see the faint sheen of moisture still clinging to his skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the loose fall of his robe.

Another step.

Instinct finally kicks in; you shift back, just one pace.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I was curious.”

Your brows knit. “About what?”

“How long it would take,” he says lightly, “for you to stop hiding.” A finger traces the curve of your cheek. You hold your breath, staring up at him, waiting for his next move. Sukuna mutters, “How odd that your scent would be so much sweeter than the flowers that grow here. It makes me wonder.”

Why is heat travelling down your body? Why aren’t you running away, revolted by his touch or the gravel in his voice? Were you still thinking about the feel of his body against yours, both naked, in the pool? Of the cocks whose soft lengths had been engrained in your mind?

His nostrils flare. 

A flash in his eyes.

“There it is,” he rasps. “A scent I could not escape, so much more potent now.”

In a blink of an eye, you’re flipped over, dangling in the air. He has you by the ankle, lifted high up. 

You grab onto his robe, which has parted. Right in front of you is his cock. Both of them. Neither soft now. Definitely not soft. One smacks you right against the face. It leaves a wet mark. 

The musk of a refined monster hits you. It’s…it’s addictive. Your mouth waters again, stronger this time than the time at the pool now that they’re so much closer to you. Irresistible. 

Sukuna presses a nose to the apex of your thighs. Skin on skin. You jolt.

Your dress had fallen down your body, ballooning around your face. You hold the material away — he can see everything. That fact has you aware that you can see him too. The thickness of his cocks, the lengths rivalling your forearm, the weight of the balls beneath. Everything about him is massive. Intended to subjugate. Designed to dominate. 

“You are already wet. Soaked,” he muses, thoroughly humoured. He rubs his nose on your clit, nuzzling the little bud. You dig your nails into his thighs. “Filthy, little human.”

That’s all he says before he licks a stripe through your slit.

“Sukuna!”

“Mm. Dessert. Just in time.”

The beast licks and laps and sucks. It isn’t anything like the women at the village described — men are supposed to be reluctant, they’re supposed to be frightened. Sukuna isn’t. He’s consuming your juices as though starved, needing nourishment. 

In front of you, something emerges from his skin.

A wolfish grin.

There’s a mouth on his stomach, lips curled up and teeth gleaming. You scream, fighting to get out of his tight hold.

SMACK!

Sukuna slapped your ass. A dull heat blossoms on the flesh. He commands, “Stay still. I cannot dine when you worm like so.”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Cruelly, he lays short slaps right on your clit, sending juices splashing onto your skin. The way his palm sticks, the sloppy noises, it's all so degrading. He’s doing it on purpose. He’s revelling in your clear desire for him.

You’re almost too distracted by the sight of a second, bigger mouth. Almost. But nothing can truly, wholly tear your attention away from the sucking of your clit and the way a fire is being lit in your very core. Soon, a thick tongue finds your entrance and buries itself inside. Your eyes roll back.

A hot, wet thing slides up the valley of your breasts. Slithering. Testing. Tasting.

The mouth, you realise. It’s sticking its fat tongue out, licking your breasts the way Sukuna’s face mouth is licking the inside of your cunt, stretching your walls, teasing the pleats there. 

“Delicious,” one of them says. You can’t tell which. So much is happening at once. Too many to process. 

At your lips, one of his cockheads smears its seed. You lick your lips. It’s salty. Eyes fixed on the frighteningly red thing, you open your mouth to suckle at it. That familiar possession has returned. You’re being controlled by an invisible force — your jaw has to widen to take the bulbous head. Your tongue runs over the tip, where there’s a slit. 

Sukuna groans, pleased. Then he growls, “Do not neglect the other.”

Slightly afraid, you do as he says. The other cock is just as hard, just as big and long as the one you’re sucking on. It throbs approvingly when you tug on it. 

“Good,” he groans out. “Very good, little bride.”

Obscene squelches are coming from above. It’s a reminder of how wet you are for him. Of how delirious the pleasure is. Of how you aren’t disgusted by the magical tongue flicking your tits, playing with the mounds, running the tip of it over your nipples. You’re not disgusted by the salty taste of him, of how he seems to be constantly leaking.

He’s lapping up at your pussy so furiously that he makes frustrated, wrathful sounds; he’s mad that you’re not producing enough wetness to match the pace in which he’s drinking it up.

“More,” he commands. “Give me more. Now.”

Sukuna pushes his face closer, uncaring of the fact that you’re making a mess all over his cheeks. He only has one thing on his mind. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, mouth full and words garbled. The unfamiliar word leaves your lips so naturally you think you’d been warning him all your life of your impending orgasm.

Unfortunately, the warning is wasted. You don’t think he even hears the words with your thighs muffling his ears.

“Sukuna!”

The very same feeling, the same sensations, as the time in the pool rushes through you. Bolts of lightning thrum beneath the surface of your skin. You shudder, moaning lewdly. 

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he’s only emboldened by the juices overflowing out of you. Slurrrrrping! so animatedly. So viciously. So animalistically. 

A feral beast sucking your sensitive clit into another orgasm only minutes later. 

It’s too much. It almost hurts. You slap at his meaty thigh. That seems to snap him out of his mania.

In a flash, you’re flipped back upright. Blood descends down your body. Lightheaded, your knees weaken. He catches you, lifting you up in his arms all while he’s collecting as much of your juices off his skin he can reach with his tongue.

Thud…thud…thud…

Sukuna strolls through the garden and back out into the rocky halls, robe discarded. Your dress is soaked with a mix of your juices, sweat, and his saliva. You’re filthy. He doesn’t complain.

Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallways to witness the remnants, of the proof, of your mutual debauchery.

“I have never considered myself as having a sweet tooth,” Sukuna begins, musing to himself, “but now I believe I would very much like to have dessert after every meal. What do you say, little human?”

“Hmm,” you sleepily hum.

“Then we are in agreement,” Sukuna concludes, pleased.

Your eyes flutter shut, too tired to keep them open. Before you fall into slumber, you feel a bed much softer than you remember cushion your body. 

A hardness flanks you.

You dream of many hands brushing your hair, patting your hip, rubbing your belly, and tracing your cheek.

.

.

.

Since you’ve come to accept your odd relationship with the King of Curses, you’ve been spending an awful amount of time with him lately. 

It started off with him keeping you in his room. 

It’s a much nicer room than yours. Infinitely so. Almost triple the size and more lavishly decorated — a huge bed with silk sheets and a canopy with deep velvet curtains, a plush rug, dark red orchids in intricate and complex positions upon a table, paintings of different moments in time of human suffering that concerningly do not bother you.

You always find yourself back in here. 

Whenever you wander through the halls, the walls seem to shift. They lead you back to his room. At first you were hesitant to enter, and you’d try to go a different way, but the caves insisted.

He isn’t here ever. 

So you’ve started to think of it as your own. 

During meal times, that’s when you’d see Sukuna. 

Uraume would often escort you out of the room and into the dining hall. Another enormous space. You’d dine with him, and only him. There’d be curses posted inside, but they always step out, to give you privacy you assume. Naturally, these mealtimes were awkward for you in the beginning. 

Sukuna didn’t speak. Not at first. He would just watch you eat, which only made you feel more awkward. 

You were the one who broke the silence. “Are you… are you not going to eat, my Lord?” you asked tentatively.

A devious grin came upon his face. Happy he won a competition you didn’t know you signed up for. He replied, “I will. I am simply fattening up my pig before I devour her.”

Heat flushed through you. Cutlery clinking against the fine china, you gulped. There was a dangerous awareness of the darkness of his eyes feasting upon your flesh — you felt its weight sliding down the plumpness of your cheeks, the length of your neck, your collarbones, and your breasts which threatened to spill out from the confines of your dress. 

Perhaps fear should have overtaken you at that moment.

Only relief and desire did. 

What set you on edge most was not knowing what he wanted from you, why he had Uraume collect you, why he was wasting his time here when he could be doing kingly duties. 

Now that he had made clear what he was seeking, you could allow yourself to rest easy and actually taste the food you were shovelling into your mouth. 

“I am the pig in question?” 

“Yes,” he replied immediately. A hand shoved a plate of pancakes towards you, encouraging. “You certainly squeal like one.”

Frowning, and pushing the plate away because you have too much to eat already, you argued, “I do not.”

“Do too,” he said, pushing the plate back towards you.

“Do not!”

An arm wrapped around your waist faster than you could see. Another swiped the food off the table. Everything fell with cacophonous clangs and bangs and splats! 

Sukuna placed you on the table, which was now bereft of food. Your back met the hard wood. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders. Dress hiked up your waist. You were bared to him. Two of his callused hands yanked you closer to his face. Those four eyes, all scarlet and glinting up at you, didn’t look away. 

He wanted you to watch him take a long whiff of your cunt.

His grip tightened on you once your scent hit him with full force. His eyes rolled back. Sukuna snarled, “Let’s see which of us is right.”

There were no soft kisses upon your sensitive skin, no caresses. Only unrestrained feasting. He immediately latched onto your clit, sucking on the thing with a fury. You cried out. 

The king was frightening in his aggression. 

He was gulping down every drop your pussy produced to please him, and it wasn’t nearly enough. Terrifying growls shook the table. 

Sukuna seemed addicted to making your cunt let out vulgar squelchessss!

They came in quick succession. One after the other. Loud and clear. Displaying how well he was playing with your clit. 

“Look at how your cunt flutters, searching for my cocks,” he mused, thumbing the entrance but not pushing in. “And look how your petals have grown swollen with blood. Oh, I bet your blood tastes as good as your pussy. We’ll test that too, another day.”

Stammering, you pleaded, “Don’t look!” 

He stared too intently. Saw too much. It was more intimate than being tasted. 

“Nonsense,” Sukuna said, waving you off. “I will look as I please, and I very much do.”

In response to his renewed lapping of your juices, you could only writhe and run your nails down the wood for anything to ground you.

“Do not waste your claws on the table,” he spat, spare hands snatching your ups and offering his wrists for you to dig into. You hesitated, chest heaving and vision swimming. Then he asked, “You do not find my flesh good enough to mark? You wish to offend your groom when he is at the altar of your legs?”

You didn’t want to know what he was like when he was offended so you clung to his thick wrists. You made a mental note not to actually scratch him — that seemed a more criminal act than offending him – but the pleasure born from his ravishing of your pussy bordered on pain and you could not help yourself.

The very moment your nails caught on his skin and broke through, one of the hands that was keeping your shaking legs apart darted out. It landed on your chest. With brutish finesse, it ripped your bodice. Cool air grazed over your breasts. That hand latched onto a tit. 

“W-what– Oh God!” you screamed. 

Something…

Something on his palm was suckling your nipple, like a babe. 

Sukuna’s amused huff vibrated through your pussy, sending shivers up your spine. “No, not God, little bride. It is me. My mouth is making you feel good. But,” he adds after a little thought, “I do not mind being worshipped as a deity, heh.”

How could he be so nonchalant when two sets of mouths were eating you up, when your eyes were at risk of being permanently lodged at the back of your head? How could he make conversation so easily when his tongue, which felt so impossibly long, was wriggling through your walls and teasing the entrance to your womb? When the mouth at his palm was suctioning your nipple into that impossible space?

“Delicious,” he snarled, positively starved of your taste. “So fucking sweet. How can a human be so…so…divine? It defies nature.”

He wasn’t talking to you anymore. He was manically muttering to himself, reasoning with his own understanding of the balance of life. It baffled him. Bewildered him. Excited him. Sukuna could not get enough of you.

Whining, you called out his name, “S-Sukuna! It’s too -hngh!- much. I can’t.”

“Cum,” he said. 

Your head shook, thrashed. “No, I -hah- can’t!”

“Cum,” he repeated. No, commanded. Ordered. Demanded. 

And you could not deny a king. 

You fell apart on the dining table with a scream. Wetness rushed out of you as though a dam had broken. He drank it all up. Slurrrrrpeddd! every single drop until you were writhing again. And when he growled, “More,” and, “Again,” you could not deny him then either.

It might have been hours later before he decided he’d had his fill.

Aside from meal times, you don’t see him during the day. He’s always gone. No one will tell you why, and you don’t feel brave enough to ask. You merely assume he’s doing kingly duties — keeping the curses of the Underworld and of the forests in line, maintaining balance between humans and monsters, and protecting his people. 

In the meantime, you read in his room, which is now your room. There are plenty of books here. More than you could ever read in a lifetime, and certainly more than there ever were in your village. It’s hard to imagine he read any of the books in the collection but there are signs of use: folded pages, cracked spines, yellowing. 

He read each one you had opened. 

Poems. 

Novellas. 

Journals of travels beyond. 

You don’t mind the hours spent on your own; the goblins walking along still scare you so you avoid running into them. Of course, there’s always the option to ask during your mealtimes, in between him eating you out and actually consuming food, if you could visit the village (for you know returning was too much). Not that you especially wanted to go home. 

The villagers had sold you. 

Abandoned you.

They would not welcome you home. 

So you must consider the heart of the mountain your new home.

It’s simply about asking, about knowing the answer, about having the option.

But each time you considered bringing up your village to him, you backed out at the last second. He was not your husband. Not really. Not yet. He’s not even really your groom. That just seems like an excuse to do the salacious things you’ve been doing. At most, he’s your friend, and you cannot burden your friend more than you already have. 

Truthfully, it hardly matters what exactly he is to you. He’s nice. Attentive. Generous. He hasn’t killed you, he hasn’t hurt you, hasn’t massacred your village and your family, and hasn’t thrown back in your face any of those facts. 

That’s why every morning, when you know Uraume will escort you, you make sure never to be late.

You obediently, possibly excitedly, wait in front of the door for the knock. 

You slide a hand down your new dress; it appeared in the closet, and is your size. It certainly isn’t Sukuna’s. Red lace, soft silk, dainty bows, easy to move in and breathe — it’s a beautiful dress. Far more expensive and luxurious than anything you’d ever owned. The chest area’s a little tight; it pushes your breasts up more than you’re used to, and somehow you’re sure that was on purpose. 

When the door opens, Uraume’s patient self leads you out. They’re quiet. Respectful. They have been since the very first night. 

“Thank you.”

Cold eyes flit to you. “What ever for, my lady?”

“For saving me,” you say, fiddling with the lace on your dress. “If you hadn’t suggested that he humour me, Sukuna would have—”

“The king,” Uraume cuts in, spine straight and gaze fixed ahead now, “does only as he pleases. It is his right. He grows bored of his new toys very quickly, and it is my duty to keep him entertained. I saw an opportunity to fulfil my responsibility. That is all.”

You have no response to that. You only blink, surprised and berating yourself for being so. Sukuna may be your friend, in your eyes at least, but Uraume is not. Sukuna may not mind the fact that you are human, but others may not share the same sentiment. Maybe Uraume thinks you are a plague. A rat. That’s often the story humans spread about curses and their philosophies.

Soon, you reach the double doors leading to the garden. Before the doors are opened, they add, “It is also my duty to throw old toys away.”

When you turn to look at them, they’re already gone.

“Finally,” Sukuna says, exasperated. “I resent being kept waiting. Walk here with haste, little bride.”

Uraume’s words linger in your mind; Sukuna’s sharp rows of teeth flash washes them away. 

He’s in his loose robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the wide sleeves. A hand beckons you over, and the moment you are within reach, he snatches you up. You’re carried up in his arms, high enough to come face to face with him and see all four of his eyes watching you. 

Sukuna nuzzles the crook of your neck. He starts walking down the path. Branches tickle the top of your head. “Did you sleep well?” he wonders. His voice vibrates against your skin. It tickles.

Gripping his hair for purchase, you murmur, “Yes.” Then, shuddering once his lips explores the length of your neck, you ask, “Did you?”

“I do not sleep,” he casually replies. 

Within minutes, he’s managed to walk so deep into the garden that the surroundings have changed from exotic flowers full of vibrant colours and shapes to a forest of cherry blossoms. Petals whirl around you, swirling with the gentle wind. 

Above you, the cave walls have shifted into the blue and vast open sky. 

You gasp. “Are we…are we outside?”

The brightness almost sting your eyes; you have to narrow them with a wince to avoid being blinded. The smell of fresh air too nearly burns your nostrils. The chatter of live animals and insects are near deafening at first. Everything’s so different, so new, yet so familiar, so ordinary that it becomes magical to your senses. 

He parts from your neck to eye your reaction. The smile on your face makes his grip on you tighten. Sukuna says, “Yes. Your complexion looked rather dull without sunlight, and my bride must be at her very best at all times. So here we are.”

That doesn’t sound quite true upon his lips but you don’t question him on it. 

Instead, you beam at him and gush, “Thank you! Oh, it’s wonderful out.”

It’s easy to forget what the world above is like when you’ve spent countless nights under the mountain with rocks for company. 

Sukuna sets you down. You waste no time running around, laughing at the green grass that tickles your bare feet. 

The grass inside the mountain’s garden is black, with roots being red, for reasons you could not fathom. It’s coarser too. The softness of this green, human grass, in comparison, sets your heart racing.

There’s no wind inside the mountain, only a draught. This calm air is fresher, warmer, soothing on the body and doesn’t settle. 

And the warmth of the sun…

Beams of distant fire soaks into your skin. You sigh, a small smile on your lips. 

When you turn back, he’s sitting under a tree, all arms crossed and watching you. Always watching. Always aware of your every move, every position, every shift. 

Somewhat shy with the realisation that he’d seen the entire display, you stroll back to his side. 

“It is a lovely day out, yes?” he says. 

You nod, grinning. “It’s perfect. Just perfect.”

About to sit beside him, you let out a squeal when he snatches you up again and sits you down on his lap. All of his arms cage you. Sukuna rests his chin on the top of your head. 

“Now it is,” he mumbles, chest rumbling against your back. 

You smile again, more coy this time, and grateful he can’t see it.

The grass is untouched. No footprints mar it. No broken twigs, no distant rustling of hidden creatures. It is a forest, yes, but stripped of all the unease that forests usually carry.

It is only you and him. 

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve as another petal lands on your lap. You pick it up, studying it like it might vanish if you blink too long. Glancing back at him, you tilt your head slightly. “Did you…make this place like this?”

His chin presses a little more firmly into your hair, a quiet, possessive weight. “It exists on its own,” he says. “I allow it to remain.”

Another petal skims your lips. Without thinking, you laugh — light, bright, unguarded — as you try to catch it, only for it to slip away again, carried by a breeze that barely stirs the trees.

“You’re noisy,” he mutters.

Yet he does not tell you to stop.

You lean back into him instead, comfortable now, warm from the sun and from him both. One of his hands idly flicks a petal from your shoulder, the motion almost absent-minded, as though he doesn’t realise he’s doing it. Or perhaps he does. And simply doesn’t care.

Your gaze drifts across the clearing again, softer this time. Slower. Relaxed, you ask, “You said you don’t sleep. What do you do at night?”

Sukuna hums, fingers drumming on your stomach. “I take care of my business.”

That’s vague, you think, but you don’t push. Instead, you ask another question: “Why do you not return to the chambers?”

He chuckles, teasing. “How forward of you, little bride. We have not yet been wed and you’re already asking to share the marital bed. Is this how you humans do it in this day and age?”

Heat flushes your cheeks. You smack one of his wandering hands, which has crept up to cradle a breast, and huff, “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just mean, everyone needs sleep. Surely even you, the King of Curses. I wonder how you rest is all.”

A moment of contemplation passes.

Did you say something wrong? Did you go too far?

Did he hate that you smacked him? 

“You are right,” he eventually says, head coming down to nudge you. His lips gently touches your cheek. “I do need rest. So allow me.”

His strong hands easily lift you off his lap, placing you down on the grass. Sukuna unfolds his large body and comes to lie perpendicular to you. His head weighs your thighs down. 

With a wave of his hand, a book appears in your left hand at the same time he takes your right and cradles it to his chest. “Read,” he instructs. “Read to me. And after my nap, I will eat your little cunt and slap your clit thrice to punish you for smacking my hand even just once.”

A flutter at your core has his eyes peering up at you, glinting. He must have sensed it. Somehow. Whether by feeling or by smell. How mortifying. 

“Or,” he starts, “I can eat you out now. I am fine with whatever order you prefer.”

“No, I’ll read,” you hurriedly say. You flick to the first page, reading the words out loud and only sighing in relief when his eyes flutter shut at the sound of your voice. 

Sukuna’s lips curl up in the corner.

And so a new tradition is born.

.

.

.

“My Lord,” Uraume repeats outside the door, “they wait for you.”

Sukuna growls out, “Let them. I am preoccupied.”

You’re pressed to the door, the cold wood warming up to the flush of your cheek. Bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep quiet, you can do nothing else but let him rut his scalding length between your thighs. 

This evening, he’d woken you up with his tongue buried inside your cunt. It seems after another whole day out in the garden, reading and strolling with him and tasting each other beneath trees before or after his naps, you fell asleep and were carried back into your chambers. 

Has it been days or weeks since you’ve built up this routine of spending the days together and spending evenings apart?

Time seems to pass so quickly and yet so slowly. It’s begun to lose all meaning to you. It’s not a fact you lament.

You jolted with a shriek at the hulking figure under your covers. “About time,” he said, throwing the heavy thing off and baring how his skin glistened with your spend to you. “I thought I might have to fuck you with both my cocks at once to wake you.”

He was joking, you were sure. Or hoped…

“Wake me?” you repeated, back arching. “W-why?”

Sukuna replied, a fang rubbing your clit and being especially careful not to cut you, “Because I must leave again, but I did not want to without hearing my name upon your lips.”

A whine tore through you. “Why couldn’t you just wake me up the normal way?”

Red eyes flashed mischievously from below. He licked a strike up your inner thigh all while not breaking eye contact. “Because normal does not taste as good.”

Uraume’s voice called out soon after, reminding him of the evening meeting. You stiffened. Could they hear you? Do they know what he was doing with you on the bed? 

Feeling embarrassed, you kicked Sukuna off and tried to push him to the door. You hissed, “You need to go. They need you.”

A hand slid inside your dress and groped your breast, cursed mouth appearing to nurse on your nipple. Another lifted your skirt up so that a third can coat its fingers in your cunt’s essence with the intention of easing the entry inside. 

“So does your cunt,” he said. “And I know which I would rather attend to first.”

Oh, he was filthy. So, so filthy.

And so persuasive. 

With you continuing, and struggling, to shake him off — legs quivering from the number his mouths had done to you today — you eventually made it to the door and was about to open it when something hot and heavy rested upon the curve of your ass and a second parted your puffy pussy lips. 

It was almost like he planned this. 

“Do not make a noise,” Sukuna rakishly rasped to your ear. Two rough hands gripped your bare hips, dressed hiked up over your ass. “Lest you’d like for Uraume to know what we’re doing.”

You definitely did not — they don’t like you very much. This wouldn’t help your case. 

But…

His cocks are rubbing you up and down and back and forth. His fat cockhead keeps catching on your pulsing clit, bumping the thing over and over again until your cunt’s drooling on his veiny length. 

“Press your thighs together. Tighter,” he commands, and groaning once you do. “Every part of you feels so good. It’s maddening.”

The pleasure building up in your core from a few thrusts is maddening. Truly. Irrevocably. You can’t tell him that, however. You can’t speak; if you do, a loud moan might slip out. 

Sukuna’s grunting in your ear. The sounds are driving you wild. As is the fact that your tits are out and are being squeezed relentlessly by two hands. Mouths take over his palms. They don’t hesitate to latch onto your nipples. You gasp, head thrown back into his chest. “Sukuna!”

“Mm, I know,” he huskily says. “Me too. Be good, pretty human. Just allow me to use your thighs for now.”

He’s so tall your hips have to be lifted up to reach his cocks. Your toes dangle over the ground. You hang precariously but you never worry for a second that he might drop you. 

Shlick! Shlickkk! 

The sounds are obscene and they’re all you can hear. Uraume must hear them too. Yet, they’re still out there, saying, “My Lord, please. The council grows restless.”

Sukuna’s livid growl shakes the door. “They. Will. Wait. Do not interrupt me again.”

His rutting speeds up. The sucking of his cursed mouths intensifies. The tip of the cock behind you is smearing pre-cum on your back, and the sensation has you clenching around nothing. 

“I’m cumming,” you whisper, eyes shut tight. “Nghhh!”

“Good,” he breathes out. “Good girl.”