Sincerely, healannette♡

you could only gulp in response.

then, he’s rising above you, broad, muscular shoulders boxing you in as he settles between your thighs. the heavy heat of his dick presses against your sensitive, aching entrance, his incandescent gaze dragging over your face like he’s trying to memorize every expression, every shaky inhale.

as if he was mapping out your features to store in the forefront of his mind. to painfully revisit over and over again.

the realization that had struck him back at the temple as he looked at every mural, every worn painting and towering statue of the air nomads. they all looked like his people. familiar faces, familiar smiles, familiar eyes, familiar powers.

but none of them resembled you.

none carried the curve of your lashes or the little furrow in your brow when you worried. none had your laugh, the unique slope of your nose, your warmth, your favor for sour over sweet, your gentleness for children and particular bugs. and suddenly, the grief that sat in his chest for years changed shape entirely. because what would be the point of preserving the world he lost if, in doing so, he lost every trace of the person he loved most within it?

“this—this isn’t about me reviving airbenders or a duty to save my dying culture. this isn’t about avatar sonam or tagah or monk gyatso or anything that has to do with bending. this is about you and me and me wanting to start a family with you,” he states with that heavy, solid avatar voice of his. firm and sure, thumb brushing along your jaw, “this is about me making sure that a part of you will always exist in a world where the avatar exists. that your lips, your eyes, your soul. . . live on for eternity. so that every time i look into this world through the eyes of the new avatar, i can still see you. see you in our grandchildren, in our great-great grandchildren, in the people that will come to exist because we loved each other. . . to know that you’ll always be in my life someway, somehow.”

“aang. . .”

“i realize now that there will come a day when airbending returns, whether in our lifetime or long after we’re gone.” he presses his forehead against yours, tone softer despite the ache in his words. “i know that i’ll get to see that vision through the eyes of the avatars who will come after me. and if i keep chasing impossible answers, impossible resolves— if i keep throwing myself at a future i can’t force into existence— i’ll lose you in the process. i’ll waste the little time we’re given together. with our friends. with our children. the thought of losing you to time. . .”

it killed him.

you feel it. the shift in him. the sincerity behind every broken word, every trembling breath. the sheer despair that claws through him at the thought of you leaving nothing behind of yourself, of the love the two of you share. the regret he’d forever live with if he only prioritized the revival of air-bending or the kids that would inherit it. and the fact that he still hasn’t left the avatar state only makes it worse, every emotion stripped raw and vulnerable beneath glowing eyes and tattoos and shaking hands.

“so i vow now that i will never neglect your life or your culture for the sake of mine. whether we have airbending children or not. . . that is up to the universe.”

his hands cup your cheeks gently as he leans in, drawing you into a slow, sloppy kiss. you could only gasp softly when his tongue slips past your lips, kissing you like he’s trying to seal his fate with yours.

he slowly pulls away, thick fingers easing you open as he makes room for himself. “i can live without other airbenders. i can make due with the acolyte family we’ve founded. what i cannot live without is you. what i cannot imagine not ingrained in this world beyond my lifetime is you.”

aang smiles for the first time tonight, like the image in his mind was far more beautiful than anything he could’ve ever imagined. he sinks inside, massive and overwhelming, drawing a raspy breath from your lungs at the sheer stretch of him. still, you pull him closer, wanting nothing more than to feel the slow, heavy drag of him inside you.

“so for now,” he whispers, breath warm against your lips as he begins moving slowly, in and out, “all i want is a child with you. one that embodies everything that you are. one that will carry on your memory, your curiosity, your strength, your traits.” gone was the glow of the avatar state, the white fading slowly from his eyes until they were simply his again, fixed on yours with a tenderness so deep it was almost unbearable. “so i’m begging you. . . give me a baby that looks just like you.”

you cry out helplessly as he buries his face into your throat, holding you impossibly close. every stroke is long and deliberate, driven far less by hunger and more by an emotion too large for words. the slick of your arousal coats his balls as you helplessly grind against him, cunt fluttering around the girthiness of his base. you could feel all the veins that line him, tracing your walls as he fucked you like he needed you to breathe.

you blink back the tears threatening to spill. “b-but i do want our baby to be like you. i do want to help you—”

he shakes his head fervently, fingers tightening around you like he’s afraid you still don’t understand. “no. no,” he rasps, “i don’t want this to be some duty you carry for me. i want this because it’s us. because it’s the life we chose together. no obligations. no sacrifices.”

you feel the dampness at the corner of his eyes as he clings to you, hands roaming your body in a worship-like trance, as though he was reassuring himself that you were real and here and present and his. to have and to hold and to sink himself into when the world is in chaos.

“please,” he croaks hoarsely into your neck, voice cracking around the word, and the raw vulnerability in it makes your chest ache more than anything else ever could. “say you’ll give me a baby, sweetheart. say you’ll give me this one thing. even if they come without air-bending.”

a broken sound leaves your throat as you cling to his shoulders, nodding desperately against him, back arching into his warmth. “yes,” you breathe out shakily, fingers curling around his nape. “yes, yes, yes. of course, i will.”

the words—your defining proclamation—undo him entirely. he groans into the curve of your neck, holding you so tightly it almost hurts, every breath hot, cold, then hot again against your skin. he cums in thick, long spurts, coating your insides pearly white as you cream on his cock, legs caging him in. his tattoos begin to faintly glow once more as he shivers, hips still pumping his seed into you, forehead pressed beneath your jaw, as though he can’t bear even an inch of distance between you.

when he finally pulls back, his eyes have returned to their natural state, shining with something far softer than desire.

devotion, perhaps. a need to always keep you safe. to give you—and your children—a world that offers everything and takes nothing in return.

“i love you,” he murmurs softly, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face. he rests his forehead against yours again, eyes slipping closed as his heart, for once, is at ease. “thank you.”

your lips tremble into a tired smile, fingers curling weakly around his head. “you never have to thank me for loving you.”

though your words alone could never truly capture the depth of everything you’ve given him.

Your fingers slid up his neck instantly, pulling him closer as his weight settled fully over you. His knee shifted between your thighs, spreading them apart as your bodies aligned.

You felt him then.

Hard.

Pressing against you through the thin layers between you.

Your breath hitched.

“Aang…”

He kissed your jaw, your throat, your collarbone as his lips trailed down like he needed to memorize you.

“I’ve wanted that too,” he admitted softly against your skin. “For so long.”

Your hands slid down his back, pulling at his robes.

“Then stop talking.”

Aang laughed under his breath. “Yes, ma’am.”

The sound barely faded before his mouth was on you again, kissing deeper, hungrier as his hands moved lifting your top, pushing it aside until your chest was bare beneath him.

His breath stuttered.

“Spirits…”

His hands were warm as they cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow circles that made your back arch into him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, like it was something sacred.

You didn’t let him linger too long.Your hands tugged at his pants impatiently. “Aang—”

“I know,” he said quickly, a little breathless now.

He shifted just enough to free himself, his cock springing against his stomach, hard and ready.

You stared for half a second, then grinned. "Well, that’s promising.”

Aang flushed slightly. “You’re not helping.”

“I'm allowed to appreciate how good my husband looks .”

He huffed a quiet laugh, then lined himself up between your thighs, his hand sliding down to guide himself against your soaked pussy.

He froze.

“…you’re already wet.”

You smirked.

“Maybe I’ve been planning this longer than you thought.”

Aang groaned. "Okay!! okay, no more talking.”He pushed in slowly as both of you gasped.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping tight as he stretched you open, inch by inch, his breath coming out uneven against your cheek.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded, breath shaky. “Keep going.”

He did.

Slowly.

Deep and oh so careful.

Until he was fully inside you, both of you completely still for a moment, just feeling it.

Aang pressed his forehead to yours.“Spirits… you feel—”

“Move,” you whispered.

Aang swallowed thickly as his hips rolled forward slowly, pulling a soft sound from your throat. Then again, deeper this time, more confident.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. “That’s it,” you breathed.

His rhythm built steady at first, then stronger as your body responded to him, your pussy tightening around his cock with every thrust.

“Aang—”

He kissed you again, swallowing the sound as his pace quickened, breath uneven now, control slipping. “I’m trying...” he gasped, “.....to go slow—”

“Don’t.”

His hips snapped forward harder, deeper, your body jolting beneath him as pleasure spiked sharp and fast.

“Oh—!”

Aang groaned into your neck, his hands gripping your thighs as he drove into you again and again, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt less like sex and more like something meant.

“Say it again,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Say you want this....with me—”

“I do!!” you gasped, “....I want you—”

Your nails dragged down his back as your orgasm hit suddenly, your pussy clenching tight around his cock.

Aang broke right after.

He buried himself deep inside you with a sharp groan, his entire body tensing as he came, holding you tightly as the wave hit him, his tattoo's glowing faintly.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breaths slowly returning to normal as Aang pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“…we’re really doing this,” he murmured.

You smiled, still catching your breath. “Yeah.”

He laughed quietly, nuzzling closer. “…we might need a lot more practice.”

You grinned. “Good thing I’m committed to the cause.”

Aang laughed again.

The air hadn’t quite settled after the last time.

You could still feel it, faint currents brushing your skin, like Aang’s power hadn’t fully let go of you yet.

He was trying.

Trying to breathe.

Trying to center himself.

Trying to go back to that calm, balanced state he lived in.

You weren’t helping.

You never did.

You shifted beneath him slightly, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the faint pulse where his tattoos had just stopped glowing.

Aang’s breath hitched. “…don’t.”

You tilted your head, smiling softly. “Don’t what?”

His hands tightened at your hips. “Don’t start again.”

You leaned up, lips brushing his jaw. "But I like you like this.”

That did something, you felt it immediately. The ground beneath you gave a faint, almost imperceptible shift.

Aang inhaled sharply. “…you need to stop.”

You didn’t. Instead, you dragged your fingers lightly down his chest, over the faint lines of his tattoos.

“They glow when you lose control,” you murmured. “I like it when your tattoos glow.”

His eyes snapped to yours.

“It’s hot.”

That was it.The stone floor beneath you moved.

Not violently.

Not dangerously.

But deliberately.

Earth rose slightly at your sides, forming a subtle hold, firm enough to keep your hips from shifting, to keep your body exactly where it was beneath him.

Your breath caught. “Oh—”

Aang’s expression had changed.

Still him.

Still gentle.

But something deeper now, something claiming.

“You don’t get to move,” he said quietly.

Your pulse spiked. “You’re using earthbending now?”

His voice dropped lower. “You keep pushing me.”

His hand slid between your thighs, spreading you open again.

“And I keep telling you to stop.”

His fingers brushed your pussy, still warm, still sensitive, still full and you gasped.

“Aang—”

“Too late.”

He shifted his hips, lining himself up again.You tried to move instinctively but the stone held you in place.

Your thighs stayed open.Exactly where he wanted you.Your breath stuttered. “You’re not letting me move—”

“I’m not letting you tease me and then pretend you don’t want this.”

He pushed inside you in one smooth, deep motion.

You cried out, hips raised. “Aang—!”

His hands locked onto your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he held you there, his cock buried deep inside your pussy.

The earth kept you open.

The air stirred again.

And Aang.....Aang lost control.

His hips moved immediately, thrusting into you with a rhythm that was stronger, deeper, less restrained than before.

“You like this,” he murmured, voice rough. “You like pushing me until I snap.”

You moaned, head falling back. “Yes—”

His tattoos flickered.

A faint glow.

His breath caught.

“Don’t say that—”

“Why?” you whispered, breathless. “It’s true.”

His thrusts grew harder.

The stone beneath you held firm, keeping your body exactly where he wanted it as he drove into you again and again.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice low, shaking slightly. “You don’t get to pretend you’re not.”

Your legs trembled against the stone’s hold. “I’m not pretending—”

His hand slid up your body, gripping your waist, pulling you into each thrust.

“Good.”

His forehead pressed to yours.

“Because I’m not stopping this time.”

Your nails dragged down his back as your body tightened around him again, pleasure building too fast, too strong. “Aang—!”

His tattoos glowed brighter. The air around you swirled, lifting your hair slightly as his control slipped further. “You did this,” he muttered. “You said you liked it—”

“I do—!”

That was all it took.

His hips slammed forward, deeper, harder.

Your orgasm hit, your body clenching tight around his cock as you cried out.

Aang followed immediately, groaning as he buried himself fully inside you, his entire body tensing as he came.

The stone released you.

The air stilled.

The glow faded.

Aang froze.

Breathing hard.

“…I didn't hurt you did I?.”

You laughed weakly beneath him. “No....you did not hurt me Aang.”

He looked down at you, still hovering close, still inside you, expression softening again.

“…good...good.”

You smiled.

"Still the sweet husband I married." Your hand cupped his cheek.

He exhaled slowly.

“…you’re impossible.”

You leaned up and kissed him.

“And you love it.”

Try and mask it all you want, but one of Caleb’s greatest talents is his perceptiveness, especially when it comes to you. He can read you as easily as the morning paper, and as easily as the instruction manuals that come with his model planes. It’s not hard for him to tell how you’re feeling. You blatantly wear your heart on your sleeve, even if you try to cover the way it erratically beats at times. The way you attempt to hide the small bout of hatred that glints beneath your irises when you see the crystallized red necklace on his neck. When you see MC. The way your carefully crafted mask can slip within a split second, only for it to come back the moment after, and you greet her with that sickeningly sweet smile, dripping with superficiality.

He knows himself far too well. Long before you, long before any promises you’ve ever made with him, and long before you even entered his life, he made a promise to Josephine. He swore that he’d spend the rest of his life protecting MC, or die trying to, as long as EVER got him before they’d even get to graze her skin. Josephine’s hands had been frail, yet he still remembers the way her fingers firmly dug into his sleeve when she made him swear. Promise to be a safeguard for MC. And Caleb has never broken any promises. Especially not for Josephine, who died not so long after that.

He didn’t love you any less, but at the end of it all, Caleb was built to protect MC. The agenda was wired within his veins and written in the stars; the calligraphy was crystal clear. You deserve someone who does not hesitate. Someone willing to put you first. And that man – no matter how much he wanted it to be – was not Caleb.

You were never the sun. The sun burns too loudly, too recklessly for its own good, dooming those like Icarus who fall too close within the vicinity of its blazing flames. No, you were the moon – distant, luminous, and quietly tugging at his heartstrings in a way that he pretended not to feel. The lunar celestial body is beautiful and full of grace; it’s precisely why Caleb has always been afraid of touching things that enchant him. You’re too far from his reach, but maybe that’s a good thing. A great thing, even. Because Caleb ruins all things that are good in his life. 

And the last thing he would want to do is hurt you. 

That summer afternoon haunts him. The apparitions of you, the painted shades of azure blue and dazzling red, all plague him in sleep because they gave him a glimpse of how things could have been if Caleb could have everything that he wanted. If the universe showed him a little bit of mercy, and if he weren’t such a coward. You were laughing beneath a sky so bright that it almost hurt to look at, because everything felt so right, and you looked so beautiful. The sun caught in your hair so deliberately that it’d put any muse to shame. He wanted to tuck a stray strand behind your ear. To paint you, even though he had no idea how to. He’d learn, just for you. There was nobody else to paint, because there was you and only you that afternoon, and you were all he ever wanted. 

He remembered thinking, absurdly and helplessly, that the world had crafted you too carefully. You were never meant to be touched. You were the kind of thing people look at the way they look at the night sky – knowing it is vast, knowing it is burning, knowing that they can be rekindled from hopeless ash into fire, but the stars above will never belong to them.

You will never belong to him. And maybe that was for the best.

You had wrapped that crimson bracelet around his wrist earlier that afternoon. His matching half. Your fingers were brushing against his pulse, and he swore the contact lingered longer than it should have. He had tied yours, just so it would be fair, intertwining your fingers against his own as he finally called the ordeal even. 

After it all, you leaned back on your palms and tilted your face towards the sun. And for the first time in a while, Caleb could not tell what you were thinking as you gazed at the clouds. He wanted to ask – ask what you were thinking, get a glimpse inside your brain, a penny (or a couple thousand of them) just to be able to quickly glance at your thoughts. How did you get this bracelet to fit so perfectly around his wrist? Were you aware that he’ll never take his matching half off, for as long as he lives? Why did you make them? 

And why were you so pretty right now?

“Stay,” you finally whispered, soft and speaking your mind at last. It sounded like a perfect harmony, too perfect for a man like him, and he knew he was slipping. He was getting greedy. Dangerously greedy for something that he could not have. The siren’s hymn is far too irresistible now, and he’s getting pulled into the point of no return. “Just like this.”

Caleb finally glanced at you then. He didn’t care about the sky or the apples that were fully in season because of the time of year. No, he was looking directly at you. He had wanted – with a sharp and terrifying clarity – to close the distance. To press his mouth to yours. To see if you would breathe his name the way he imagined you might, your breath hot against his lips.

He wanted to kiss you.

Instead, he did what the poets had always trained him to do. He held your hand, pressing his palm against yours because it was the only thing he was brave enough for. The only thing he was allowed to take from you without taking too much. To clasp your hand against his for a little while, because the poets are cruel to boys like Caleb, and the greatest mark you could leave on him was the bracelet resting on his wrist. Nothing more. He cannot be yours, no matter how much he wants to rewrite his narrative and grab the pen himself. He can only pretend to be for a little while.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” Just for today, he thought. Let me have this one moment.

Just for today.

When the explosion happened, and the trajectory of his life changed in an instant alongside Josephine’s death, Caleb’s first thought was not about all the pain he felt. He was used to that, especially after all the experiments EVER had subjected on him. He could handle all the torment, but this fear that he felt – this was new. The moment that the toring chip was implanted by the Fleet, his right arm had been reinforced with metal, and your bracelet was lost to the ruin, he knew. 

Alongside that fear came his terrifying realization that things were no longer the same. He was no longer sixteen, and he was never yours, no matter how much he wanted to be. He was bound to her in this lifetime. It was his duty to protect her.

It was always her.

Still, if the thread that had been severed during the tragedy were a curse, Caleb would have worn it all over again. A thousand times over, even if he knew it would kill him one day. He would have offered the other arm, too, if it meant keeping the faint indentation your bracelet left against his skin. If it meant preserving the memory of your fingers brushing against his pulse, as if you could steady it just by your touch alone. Like you could make everything right again with a snap of your fingers. And maybe, in another life, everything would be alright. He would just pray that you’d wait long enough for that life – a life full of silver springs and a perpetual summer oasis – to be granted to both of you.

He never once thought you doomed him. If anything, he now thinks that loving you was the only thing that ever felt deliberate in a life that could barely even call his.

There’s a joint mission with the Association and the Fleet today, which is rare. Typically, Caleb would want you and MC to be as far away from Skyhaven as possible, but some things cannot be helped, especially when it comes to higher orders. At the end of the day, people in the Fleet and the Association are just puppets, players of the game for those above. Unfortunately, none of you were an exception to that.

MC finds him in his office, and when she knocks on the door, she smirks at the way his face deflates – just enough for her to notice. He was probably hoping that it was you. Right now, you were probably with... “You look happy to see me.”

Caleb rolls his eyes at her blatant sarcasm, and she laughs. It brings about a sense of shame that he refuses to acknowledge, because he knows that she can see right through him. “She’s getting ready for the mission debrief. I think she’s having lunch with Xavier right now.”

“Why the long face?” Of course, she doesn’t miss the way his shoulders tighten at the mention of him. That guy from UNICORNS, the same department you’re in, who’s been awfully close to you lately. Xavier. He’s lucky he’s not your actual partner, and Jenna had paired you with MC. If anything, it makes it easier for Caleb to look after both of you, and he has to worry less about him. “If it makes you feel better, I heard them talking about a certaaain someone named ‘Caleb’. She has a surprise for you, you know.”

“I don’t need surprises. We have a mission soon, don’t we?”

He says, his voice flat. MC just hums, clearly unconvinced by his faux stoicism, strolling further into his office without an invitation. She perches on the edge of his desk and gives him an all-knowing smile.

“You’re jealous.” The declaration is blunt, and it hits him like a freight train. He would have laughed, if only he didn’t feel so called out.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay, sure. And the sky is green.” He runs a hand through his hair at that. The motion is sharp, filled with a lot more agitation than he initially intended, and her smile softens by just a fraction. He’s too easy to tease. “You’re impossible, Caleb.”

MC studies him for a long moment. Growing up together had made it second nature for them to read each other’s tells like an open book. He taught her several things: how to secretly cheat at Kitty Cards (or not, because he simply turns a blind eye at her antics), how to cook simple dishes, and how to use his EVOL to get any plushie she wanted from the claw machines; but most importantly, Caleb taught her how to hold his secrets. That’s why she can simply lay a statement out that’s so real, he’s unable to counteract it. Something like, “You love her.”

Which is exactly what she says. The words land heavier than a simple accusation, because accusations can be disproven. However, this time, her words were wholly true, and he could only exhale through his nose in response. “That’s not relevant.”

“It’s not relevant?” MC wanted to laugh, but it just comes out as a scoff. “Every day, you look at her as if she hung the moon. Or more like she’s the moon herself. It’s surprising how she hasn’t noticed yet.”

“She deserves someone who’s able to put her first.” If you were the moon, then you were simply an unreachable deity, a figure only meant to be admired from afar. Your beauty was the kind that needed restraint, and restraint was something that he had years of expertise in his belt. He’d give you all the distance if it were for the best, and he’d spent a long time convincing himself that space was truly the best course of action. “Someone who can…”Treat her better.

Caleb’s thoughts flicker to you and Xavier, but he’s quickly interrupted by MC. Her tone is firm, the one she uses when she calls him out. “Well, she doesn’t just want ‘someone’. She wants you.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for her without even giving her a choice in the first place,” she adds, pointing a deliberate finger at his chest. “You’re not protecting her by doing that. That’s called being a coward.”

His hand curls to his side, and for once, she’s reduced him to silence. A heavy tension fills the air. She was right. He was a coward. He’s never been able to think right, to circumnavigate all his feelings when it comes to you, anyway. He brushes his mechanical arm, the metal mostly hidden under his uniform. Once, you’d slipped a handwoven bracelet around that wrist, smiling all prettily at him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like that day was a mere snapshot of a life both of you could have. Once, that day, he almost kissed you, but he had chosen restraint that moment, too. “She’ll be safer if I just keep my distance.”

“Actually, that ‘distance’ is just making you even more miserable,” she counters. “And it’s just leaving her really, really confused. Congrats, Caleb. What a stellar strategy from the great Colonel of the Farspace Fleet! Is this exactly what you wanted? The kind of intellect that lets you survive in the Deepspace Tunnels?”

She nudges his shoulder. “You don’t have to keep protecting me to love her. I’m not twelve anymore, even though you treat me like I still am sometimes.”

“You’re still being hunted by EVER–”

“So are you. And the danger plagues her life, too.” Her eyes soften. “We don’t get to live safe lives, dummy. Some of us chose to be Hunters, and we just keep on fighting anyway, despite knowing the risk.”

“You should tell her,” MC repeats, a little quieter this time. “And that you’re scared. She’ll understand. Just start with the truth – and take advantage of what she’s about to give you later.”

She doesn’t elaborate on what the surprise is, but her gaze flickers to his wrist. He stares at the door, head fleeting, as if you’ll walk into his office at any second. If he tells you, then he risks losing everything, the balance he’s maintained and the distance that he’s spent years convincing himself was the noble thing to do. If he doesn’t tell you, then he just might risk losing you to someone else, someone better, someone like Xavier. And for once, that notion feels more terrifying than anything, because then, he’ll lose everything, and then some. At that point, he’d have to learn to let you go, and someone else would get to be yours.

“...Fine,” he finally mutters.

MC’s eyes light up. “Fine?”

“I’ll tell her.” Even though it’s not a promise.

Still, when he finally says those words, the world feels a little lighter, and something within the universe shifts. For the first time in a long while, Caleb could imagine that bright, summer afternoon once more. The day he had thought about making you his, the day he almost reached for more than your hand, and the day he thought about kissing you. He thought about your saccharine sweet lips and remembered the way you wore your shiny lip gloss. You still wear it, even to this day. He always wanted to know what flavor it was. And what did it taste like, exactly? Cherry, maybe. Or apple, to match the delicious pie you had baked together that summer.

It’s you who has constantly plagued his thoughts. Despite everything, it has always only ever been you. And maybe, at last, Caleb didn’t have to spend another second wondering anymore, because he might just find out the answer to all these questions.

“I thought–” you say quietly, your eyes strictly fixated on the box instead of him, “that maybe we don’t get to keep things forever, but we can try to, anyway.”

His breath catches at the realization that this was the surprise that MC was talking about. You had handed him a remade pair of matching bracelets after the mission debrief. The pattern was the same, and they were still beautifully handwoven by you, but the ends are no longer unraveling, and your handiwork had clearly gotten more skillful with time. For a second, just one split second, all the years between his sixteenth and now had blurred into something raucous yet familiar. A feeling that he knew all too well – the same feeling he had been pushing back all this time, for fear that it would one day eat him alive.

“You made another set,” he says slowly, voice far raspier than he intended. “After I lost mine when…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Caleb never does, a taciturn defense mechanism that came especially handy during conversations that are more difficult to have between the two of you. The explosion was one of them. He briefly wondered once, when his arm had been reinforced, if you would make another pair of those bracelets. Then, he quickly tossed that thought away as fast as it had come, but now it's all painfully crashing back on him. All at once, and he was far from ready.

But you nod anyway, like you understood every single complicated fragment that he couldn’t say out loud, and are able to piece everything together regardless. Damn it, that has always been your worst habit. You knew him too well. You saw through all the fractures that Caleb had tried so desperately to hide, and loved him for all he was anyway, without encouraging him to fill in the margins. 

His jaw hardens at that. Your worst habits are the same ones that can unravel him just as quickly. Your perception was beautiful, yet your biggest danger.

“Put it on me, again. Just like old times.”

He holds out his left wrist, the only one remaining that is still tender, and still human. Caleb hardly misses the way your eyes flicker to his mechanical arm before you quickly look away, like you’re trying not to let your guilt bleed all over the floor. The thought alone makes his chest ache, because none of that had been your fault. You never cursed him. It’d be impossible to do so, even if you tried. He wanted to say those words out loud, but they stayed lodged between his teeth and forever stuck at the tip of his tongue. He might just make things worse if he acknowledges them.

So, when you finish tying his matching half, he declares that he’ll just show the physical manifestation of his love for you, just as you did for him. Caleb reaches for you without hesitation, and your wrist fits into his hand like it always has, and he ties the bracelet with a focus that borders on reverent. His tongue presses lightly to his teeth, brows faintly furrowed as he adjusts the knot. “Do you remember what you said that day? How you predicted that I’d forget you in five years when I’m ‘super popular and cool’ once I was at the DAA?”

You nod, small and sheepish, and it makes him huff softly. His fingers linger across your skin for just a second too long, and it makes him realize just how close you are to him. Like he had been unconsciously pulling you in with his EVOL. The proximity makes his voice dip a little lower. “Well, I think my words still stand. I most certainly never forgot you, you’re still way cooler than me, and definitely way cooler than anyone there.”

Gravity is an amusing thing. It’s the reason everyone stays upright, why the world revolves the way it does, and it's partially why Caleb was able to climb the ranks so quickly at the Fleet, but it also pulls him down. Nobody had warned him about the way gravity could settle somewhere deeper within his bones and nearly crush him. How it could root itself within his chest and make every breath feel heavier, far heavier than it should really be.

Still, his EVOL also makes it seem like you were the epicenter of everything, because that’s how it always seems to Caleb. Sometimes, gravity also makes it so that the entire axis of his world could deliberately tilt towards you, and only you.

And finally, he takes in everything about you, all at once. Your eyes. Your mouth. The way the light reflects off your lip gloss, the same one he had spent so long wondering about. It was intoxicating. Dangerous. You were far too dangerous for someone like him. It was dangerous the way your hand lifts his mechanical one, cradling the metal like he was still able to feel. The phantom touch almost makes him feel something. 

Only you could do this to him.

“You come back to me,” He whispers, breath warm against your lips. It makes his pulse stutter, and the poets begin to sing once more, and Caleb knows that he’s in trouble. Because the hymns are getting too angelic now, too tempting. “You promise.”

He thinks back to MC’s declarative words. “You love her.” 

No matter how much he refused to admit it, everything she had said earlier was right. He loves you. Even after all this time, he loves you. So much that it hurts. Sometimes, between the margins of all his internalized turmoil, Caleb dreams that he could just be with you. To live a life with you without having to worry about the Fleet, or the Hunter’s Association, or the toring chip that silently puppeteers his every move and thought. That he could perpetually relive that summer day, over and over again, to be sixteen and utterly clueless about the future with you, forever.

Caleb loves you. And when his gaze finally drops to your lips, he decides that he’s going to prove that he does, once and for all. To stop wondering about everything, and to start knowing. “I–”

“Caleb!”

The moment ends as quickly as it came, and you break away from him before he even realizes what happened. He sees MC standing in the doorway, mid-breath and fully geared up. You’re looking at her, and you refuse to look at him now, standing a considerable distance away. It makes his chest ache all over again. She cluelessly asks, “They’re calling us in. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. And if Caleb could hear the poets, they were probably laughing up a storm. Maybe this was just a part of their cruel nature. Their grand plan of mercilessly dangling everything that he wants in front of his face, of toying with his cake and eating it. It makes him realize that even though MC had been right, and he did love you, Caleb had also been right in his own way. She was right, but so awfully naive. You’ll be safer if you just keep your distance from him. “I’m coming.”

Because, after all this time, maybe Caleb had been the cursed one all along.

MC’s expression quickly shifts when she senses your meek tone and the dirty look that he had given her the second she walked in. She had been so caught up with preparing for the mission that she completely forgot to read the room. She just had a conversation with Caleb about this! Her eyes flicker to your wrist, and then to his, and the realization of what she just interrupted finally dawns on her. “Shit, I’m so sorry–”

“I really shouldn’t be here right now, should I?” she stammers, already quickly backing out the door. “I’ll–I’ll leave you two to it.”

When she leaves, you still refuse to meet his gaze. He tries to call out your name, to maybe make you understand, but to no avail. “Please, just look at me–”

“Don’t.” 

Your tone was so cold, it completely reduced him to silence. Watching you leave felt like a slap to the face, because at that moment, you had finally slipped through his fingers. And it hurt a little more knowing that he didn’t let you go in the end, but you had left on your own accord.

Caleb’s life is full of almosts. For a brief instance, he almost got to call himself yours. He almost sealed that promise with you. He almost chose you over her. He almost called you beautiful that bright blue summer afternoon (it was at the tip of his tongue. What if he had just said it then? Would everything have changed? Would gravity have reoriented itself to be less suffocating? Would the dull, monotone colors of his life finally have mixed to form something worth gazing at?)

He almost chose differently, and now… these ‘almosts’ will continue to be almosts. Now, he’ll just never know, because MC was right. In the end, Caleb was just a coward. A coward who curses everyone around him, including her.

And including you.

“Caleb, I need evac. Now.”

Your voice cuts through the comms, from MC’s watch – and he feels his heart drop. He should have known something was wrong the moment your own Hunter’s watch had lost signal. Everything must have gone awry, and he curses, checking your location amidst all the static. Damn it. Why did you two have to be so far away? “Status.”

Of course, he had his own respective mission to attend to while you were with MC. His mission site wasn’t too far, but far enough that it’d take him some time to get to your location, a real disadvantage when things become a shitshow. Such as right now. Caleb never really cared about abandoning his post if it meant saving you two. Today was one of the times that his title could be used as leverage. 

But then you say it. Something that he wasn’t ready for. “MC’s down, and–”

For half a second, the world goes horribly quiet. Everything else tunes out into a plethora of fuzzy static, and then he feels it – the pain practically detonating at the back of his neck. The chip. Fuck. He was losing control. Caleb chokes on a breath as the toring chip flares white-hot beneath his skin, a violent, searing pulse that shoots straight down his spine. His hand slams against the console to steady himself, knuckles blanching. No. No, no, no–

“She took a hit from a wanderer– I’m trying to take us… safe zone… I’m five minutes out–”

Get a grip, you motherfucker. He manages to force a few words out, his voice tight and strained against the edges as he fights against the godforsaken implant. Your voice is cutting in and out of the comms. Or maybe that was all in his own head? He must be going mad. “What the hell happened?”

You’re breathing hard on the other end. He can hear it, clear as day. You were huffing, breath uneven and ragged, like you’ve been running this entire time. “It’s a shitshow out here, Caleb. I don’t have my sword, and she took a hit when I wasn’t looking–”

“When you weren’t looking?” Another spike of heat lances through his neck, and he’s nearly keeling, vision blurring at the edges. “You’re supposed to cover for her.”

“I was,” you snap, and if he were just a little more attentive, maybe he could’ve heard the way your voice wavered for a fraction of a second. “I was there, Caleb, I tried–”

“Then why the hell is she bleeding out?”

Static overcomes the comms again, and he’s certain that the chip might just detonate on its own at any moment. The only thing ringing in his head, over and over, are your words. She’s hurt. MC is hurt, and he might be too far to do anything about it. She’s hurt, and it’s his fault. The words failure and coward slam into him so hard that they nearly knock all of the remaining air out of his lungs. The red apples, the ones that used to be so sweet, are now rotting, and the worms have found refuge in them. The sky is too blue, and the smoke is too thick. That old, familiar guilt claws up his throat before he can do anything to stop it.

He’d promised Josephine that he’d protect her–

Another pulse from the chip makes Caleb’s hands shake over the controls. The pulse was sharper and meaner, a haunting reminder that he’d doom all three of you if he didn’t move. Right now, he needed to get his plane to your location, even if the back of his neck might kill him before he does.

It hurts. Fuck, it hurts.

Some distant part of him knows that he should ask – Are you hurt? Were you safe? What was your status? Because you never told him. The questions weakly claw at the ivory crevices between his ribs, but they never make it out of his lips. The only thing he could do was stabilize himself and make his way to where you both were, and silently pray to whatever deity was out there that you were okay. “Damn it. I’ll be waiting at the safe zone near you – I’m about ten minutes away. Can you make it there?”

On the other end, you manage to say, “Yeah. I think.”

You were okay, right?

Caleb doesn’t let himself think about why your voice sounded so thin. Or why it sounded like you were barely stifling a sob through your gritted teeth. Or why you eventually end the call, and the line suddenly goes so eerily– 

Quiet.

It was too quiet.

You were dead.

There should’ve been some type of catastrophe, some cataclysm that shook the earth and rendered it a lifeless husk by the end of it all. Some divine, merciless confirmation that the universe understood what it had just done. And yet, the sky was still present up above, and the bracelet on his wrist stood as a hot, stinging reminder of everything. In reality, the sky should be closing in on itself, swallowing the world into a vortex – not the dull, monotonous shade of gray that it was right now. No, there was something wrong. Where was the prophesied Armageddon? The sky is still here. The world has not ended. Skyhaven hasn’t turned into a pit of ash, Linkon hasn’t erupted into flames.

And yet, you were no longer here. You were dead. You had died saving MC, and yet nobody could even save you. Caleb couldn’t save you.

Nothing is making sense. Around him, the medics are moving, helping the other Hunters who are also injured. Someone is crying, he distantly registers that, but it all sounds warped – like Caleb was hearing the entire world from underwater. His gaze stays locked forward, unmoving and unblinking, because someone had just told him that you were dead on arrival, and that there was nothing they could have done. Nothing he could have done.

Because you were dead.

Every day, people make plans for tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. The vacation they swear they’ll finally take in a few weeks. You had plans. There’s probably still an unwashed basket of laundry sitting somewhere in your quarters, half-forgotten, but it was something that you promised to deal with over the weekend – when you finally had the time to. There’s still a grocery store checklist in your notes, full of all the things you meant to buy. There were books you wanted to read. You had a whole wishlist of them, and he was planning to buy them all for you for your next birthday.

There were things that you meant to finish. But in just a snap of a finger, the elegist cruelly declares that your poem will end in the middle of an ordinary verse. The laundry does not need to be washed anymore. The checklist will never be completed. Your books will begin to collect dust, and Caleb’s world has completely stopped alongside your death. Perhaps it's ironic, the way he thought that some world-ending catastrophe would occur the second they laid down the news, that the back of his neck would finally implode, but everything was just stagnant. Terrifyingly still as he’s forced to stand in the midst of a world that had the audacity to keep moving after your death.

How was this fair? How was any of it fair?

Still, even in the midst of all the clamor, nobody dares to answer him.

Caleb comes to MC the moment they notify him that she’s awake.

It took her a few hours to come to her senses, especially since she sustained injuries that any regular person couldn’t walk off. His vision is swirling. He needed to see her – the past few hours felt like a blur. The quiet, gnawing need to see with his own eyes that at least MC was okay was all encompassing, because the thought that he couldn’t save you plagues his every waking moment.

He couldn’t save you.

The walk to the med bay feels longer than it should. He tries to pinch his skin because part of him is still convinced that this was all a nightmare, a final test that the poets have subjected him to before they end all his misery at last. Maybe it’d just be better for all this to end, anyway. Caleb’s boots sound too loud against the flooring; every step felt like his EVOL was deliberately dragging him down. It was less to do with gravity itself, but more of the way his chest feels like it's been carved hollow. The bracelet on his wrist burns. It felt like another toring chip, in a sense, except it had willfully been implanted by you. But he’d be a fool to take it off. He never will. 

When he steps into the room, MC is already sitting up, and her eyes snap to him immediately. The first thing he senses is relief. Relief flashes all across her face, and she nearly smiles. “Caleb–”

But it falters as quickly as it came when she realizes the expression on his face. He’s never been good at hiding anything from her. Not when they grew up together, side by side. She could tell whenever he was upset, even though he tried to hide it from her every time. “Where is she?”

“Please, Caleb. I want to see her.” Her voice wobbles, and she’s practically pleading at this point. No. “She’s okay, right? Let me see her. Because she said–”

She said she’d be right behind me. That she’d think about herself, too. “I’m sorry.”

“Caleb.” Her eyes widen in horror, tears flooding her waterline at the realization that you died saving her. Even though she had begged you to worry about yourself, too – especially because there were far too many things that you needed to sort out. She was going to convince you to confess to Caleb if the bastard didn’t want to do it himself. To convince you that it was worth it to love him, even after everything. Even after…

Smack!

Even after it all, was he really worth loving?

The slap reverberates across the room, an instinctual move from MC before she even had a second chance to really think about it. Caleb’s head snaps to the side with the force of it, but he doesn’t move to retaliate. He doesn’t move at all, actually. Truthfully, he just stands there, cheek stinging, taking it all in while her hands are trembling. She was shaking in a way that he had never seen before. He was used to seeing her irritated, especially during their petty fights.

But this anger, this was new.

“You–” her voice breaks, nearly turning into a sob as she jabs a finger to his chest, “You idiot! You were supposed to–”

He was supposed to do a lot of things. He was supposed to protect MC. He was supposed to tell you that he loved you, a chance to finally chase after a fragment of that summer afternoon that he constantly longed for. He was supposed to not let you down, to not let MC down, to quit shattering all these baseless promises that he makes.

But that’s all he ever does. He lets people down. Over and over. MC never finishes her words, but he understands. He was a coward. Through and through. 

“I hate you.”

She’s said those words to him a thousand times. She’s said it to him over stupid arguments, over arguing about who has to eat the cilantro, over who gets the last word in. It’s always been over mindless things. Caleb, you’re a dummy. Caleb, I hate you. Caleb, say you’re sorry. It was easy to make up with her. She’d shove him, but come back hours later apologizing, because at the end of the day, MC never really means it. 

But this time, she does mean it. He can hear it in her voice. He could feel it in the way she refused to look at him anymore, the sting on his cheek now serving as a painful reminder of how she felt. And for once in his life, Caleb, the jack of all trades, a star athlete, and the great valedictorian of the Aerospace Academy, had nothing to say. 

The only thing he could find it in himself to do was nod, because he completely understood. And at that moment, something fragile finally fractures beyond repair. Because the three of you had grown up together, but that day – that day, something had died alongside you. And after that, things have never been the same since. 

After your death, Caleb quickly learns that surviving and living are two very distinct things. He often does the first (albeit barely), but is particularly bad at doing the latter. Something in him had calcified in the depths of his bones, the moment that the realization that you were dead had fully settled within him. No amount of time seemed to ever undo the plethora of guilt, emptiness, or blame that he felt. On the outside, he’s still the superficial Colonel of the Farspace Fleet – the mask that he’s used to wearing, prior to even losing you.

However, it’s easier to see that Caleb had retained less of his humanity after, like his mechanical arm had spread to other parts of his body, and the toring chip no longer affected just his neck. There’s a quiet wrongness to it all that nobody acknowledges. His laughter never seems to reach his eyes anymore (but even then, he seldom laughs now), and his office light stays on far too late into the night. Still, the bracelet never leaves his wrist. It wasn’t out of obligation, or maybe even penance. It just made it a little easier to keep going, with that bracelet on. Because it reminds him of everything that he Caleb could’ve had, and a little more.

His relationship with MC never quite recovers. At the end of the day, he knew he still had an obligation to fulfill, and they still fall into the same old habits sometimes – but it’s never quite the same. A keystone, something fundamental, was missing at the apex, but there’s no way to get it back. There’s no way for you to ever come back. They never talk about the argument they had that fateful day, for better or for worse. Sometimes, he catches her looking at his wrist – at the faded threads of your bracelet – before she quickly looks away. Sometimes, MC opens her mouth as if she wants to say something.

But at the end of it all, she says nothing.

Caleb visits you on a quiet afternoon, a day when the sky is the wrong color. 

(Honestly, there’s never been a “correct” color – there hasn’t been one, ever since your death. The clouds have always been a mix of muddy grays and dull, monotone shades. Nothing was paint-worthy anymore. The only scenery that had ever been worth painting was that bright summer afternoon, where all the colors perfectly aligned, and you were so, so pretty.)

There’s a small basket between his fingers, carried by his left hand, the one with your bracelet wrapped around it. He sets it down beside your grave with a careful steadiness that took him months to relearn. It was a basket of red apples, the same kind that had been in season that day. Josephine’s special. He started growing them himself after you died, even though they don’t taste the same. 

They probably never will. But they’re close – close enough that he hopes you’ll like them. Close enough that when he bites into one, he can almost pretend – just for a second – that he’s blissfully sixteen again and unaware. Almosts. He was used to almosts. These almosts were never quite enough. “The texture is a little weird. I’m sorry. I tried to pick the best ones for you.”

Every time he visits, he hopes that the wind will one day answer for him. It never does. For a long moment, he says nothing. He stays there, over your grave, gaze dropped to the bracelet on his wrist. The crimson dye is slowly fading and blending with the ivory. Then, softly, like he’s afraid that the poets would hear this vow and take it away from him too, Caleb makes a promise that he knows he has no right to make. “If you ever grace me with your presence in my next life… If I’m even a worthy enough man to be granted that–”

“Then, for once, I’ll get it right.” His breath hitches, and he inhales, deep and shaky. “I promise on every fiber of my being, that I will always choose you. Over anything.”

“You can always count on that.” His thumb brushes over the bracelet, sealing the promise. 

“I love you.” Caleb finally whispers, and he fails to notice the way the wind stills. He fails to notice that somewhere, far beyond the fragile limits of mortals and their grief, one of the poets lifts their head, in newfound interest. Because vows like that… vows carved from years of regret, desperation, and longing… have always been the most dangerous kind for inspiration.

— LINKON CITY, SOME TIME IN THE DISTANT FUTURE, WHERE THE POETS HAVE GRANTED YOU BOTH A SECOND CHANCE AT LIFE. WILL HE SAVOR THIS OPPORTUNITY, OR LET IT ALL BURN?

Time moves the way it always does. It only moves forward, in a merciless manner, and it is far from forgiving. Still, maybe – just maybe – the poets had finally listened to him.

Because in this life, Caleb and MC do not know each other. 

Truthfully, he still knows of her, because he just needed to know that she was doing okay. He knows that she goes to Linkon University, getting that degree that she’s always wanted because hunters and wanderers are now just a fragment of history – a distant past. She’s happy, probably way happier than when she was ever with Caleb, and maybe that was for the best. They’ve passed each other, maybe once or twice, in the wide sprawl between Linkon and Skyhaven, but as nothing more than strangers, not as people who once grew up under the same roof.

Perhaps that really was for the better.

And you… Caleb remembers everything about you. He particularly remembers that faraway, summer memory – of every distinct feature on your face, the weight of your hand in his, the red apples, and the way that you died. His memory, turns out, is far crueler than anything that EVER had ever inflicted onto him. The pain of losing you does not flare or fade like the pain of that toring chip. It doesn’t grant him any mercy. It just stays the way that it is.

So, Caleb spends the rest of his newfound life searching for a girl that he’s never even met before. All to fulfill that bygone vow that he promised, all those years ago. Sometimes, he wonders if you were just an awfully vivid figment of his imagination – like he had gone mad in his previous life, and you were the only thing he could conjure to keep himself sane. Sometimes, part of him just wants to move on, because he doesn’t even know if you’re here; perhaps you’ve found refuge somewhere far away from Linkon. Somewhere far away from someone like him. And yet, he’s been trying his entire life to find you, because a distant version of himself promised that he would.

Until, one day, all his prayers are answered, in a place so painfully ordinary. 

It was a craft store within Linkon City, a smaller establishment tucked in between two brighter buildings. There was soft music playing overhead, and he caught a faint scent of paper and thread and everything made carefully by hand, and Caleb does not even remember why he entered this place to begin with.

And then there was you.

You, standing behind the register counter, like you had always belonged in this place, somewhere so gentle and forgiving and so rightfully… you. You look up at your phone when he comes in, and you flash him a smile so bright that it makes his chest ache.

Because you looked so happy, and that’s when he realizes everything. No, you were never a figment of his imagination, and nothing had been a dream. They were all memories. Caleb has lived a completely different life before this one, and this second life was one granted to him from whatever deity or poet had been listening to his pleas. All he ever wanted was to live a life with you in the epicenter of it.

Was this the one? Maybe the poets had finally shown him the slightest bit of mercy. Or was this their cruelest joke yet?

But then his gaze flickers to your wrist, and he stops. Wrapped around it was that crimson and ivory bracelet, in the same exact pattern that he remembers, and his entire world freezes. He remembers the careful way you threaded the colors, and the exact shade of red that you favored, and—

Fuck. 

You were real. You were always real. You had just been here this entire time. He thinks back to that beautiful summer afternoon, and he feels like he’s sixteen all over again, sun-warmed and stupid and hopelessly, helplessly, yours. Before he can help it, your name slips from Caleb’s mouth. The two of you have finally crossed paths once more – but wait, there’s something terribly, terribly wrong.

“That’s my name, yeah!” You say, still smiling so beautifully, and he finally feels something in his chest settle into place. Ah, so this was the penance that he had to pay in this life. It was fitting. Definitely more than fitting, especially for someone like him. Still, Caleb would never ask for a redo, no matter what. He’d look for you in every lifetime, and willingly serve this punishment in every single timeline. He’s willing to love you all over again, even if from afar. Even if in this life, you are already bound to someone else. A penance he had to serve for never putting you first in his last life. 

The poet who was writing his story had always been cruel to the touch. But for a man like Caleb, he thinks he deserves nothing less. He almost didn’t want to hear you say it, but he knows that the words are about to leave your lips, anyway. You offer him a small, apologetic smile. Nevertheless, after everything that has happened, Caleb still thinks that you are the most gorgeous woman to grace this wretched world, and in the depths of all his most beautiful memories, he will find you in every single one of them. No matter what happens.

“I’m sorry,” you say gently. “But do I know you?”

WAS I JUST A FOOL? / I’LL FOLLOW YOU DOWN ‘TIL THE SOUND OF MY VOICE WILL HAUNT YOU / GIVE ME JUST A CHANCE / YOU’LL NEVER GET AWAY FROM THE SOUND OF THE WOMAN THAT LOVES YOU.

previous | next (the finale).

end note: hello :D reader’s life post reincarnation is intentionally left ambiguous for you to decide the rest of her story and is NOT answered in the next part. in her new life, she could be matching bracelets with another person. another LI, maybe. hence why she was still wearing it even though she didn’t know who caleb was in her new life. it’s really up to your interpretation. however, in my perspective, i made her wear that bracelet in her next life to silently perpetuate the notion that caleb and reader are still tied to each other in every lifetime, while simultaneously being doomed in every single lifetime as well (i’m sorry…). the aftermath of the ending is for your imagination. does reader get together with another LI? does caleb spend the rest of his reincarnated life loving her from afar? do caleb and reader finally get together, and he spends his entire lifetime getting to know her all over again? its your decision. but just know, that caleb will always love the reader, no matter what happens <3

At least it sounds promising, you muse. And that second delivery must be a freebie, perhaps something promotional. It’s with that thought in mind that you find your feet heading straight for your bedroom, ready to give your newly-acquired product a little test run.

It was bigger than you thought once the packaging had come off. 

Curved. Lengthy. As vibrantly pink as the box. With the cutest rose petal-shaped features, and an electric tongue that stuck out from between them. Right in the middle was a snug lil’ hole you guessed was for suction, and according to the website this toy also had the ability to vibrate. 

Oh, you find your mouth drying at the thought. You better check whether this alleged ‘strongest’ really lived up to its name or was going to be forgotten in a box under your bed…

Limbs shaky, you’re mindlessly placing the other banged-up cardboard box on your bedside table and sprawling out on the mattress. Stripping down to nothing but your t-shirt n’ panties, thighs squeezing ever-so-slightly, hands holding the toy up to the light. You stick your anticipating thumb onto that power button and-

Nothing. 

“Ah, fuck-” You’re checking the battery indicator - zero charge. Of course. In slight embarrassment you’re chucking the toy towards the foot of the bed and springing back into the pillows. “Should’ve known.”

The charger probably came with the box- and just as you’re scanning your room for any signs of it, your eyes lock onto another little package. The one you’d forgotten on top of your bedside drawer.

What else did you have to lose? And you were quite curious about what promotional products the company might have sent you, so you find yourself picking it up idly. Pushing apart the layers of duct tape and cardboard to find…a pair of rose-colored sunglasses?

Stylish, with the word ‘dateviator’ branded on the frame.

Grumbling, “This definitely wasn’t on the site.” You put on the damned thing. Nothing special, all it did was tint your vision with a slightly romantic filter of pink.

With slight amusement, you’re checking out the difference in your room. The curtains, the desk, the bookshelves, the towering naked man with white hair-

Wait what?

You’re gasping, eyes widening as you take in the sudden intruder. “What the-” In panic, some part of your brain can’t help but think that this must be one of those illusions. One of those…hollographic glasses? Yeah, must be it. So you’re taking them off-

He’s still there.

Putting them on.

He’s still there.

Taking them off-

“-fuck!”

“That is what I’m here for.” The stranger flashes you the brightest grin you’ve ever seen in your entire life. A tiny dimple at the end of it, sapphire eyes twinkling. 

Your bedsprings dip as he plants a - still very, very naked - knee on the edge of your mattress and you have to force yourself to stop from looking…down. 

“Oh, you can look.” He’s chuckling in a teasing voice, almost like he could read your mind. And you should scream- you should possibly even run, but it’s just so hard when he winks at you like that. “You can even- heh, touch.” 

Before you know it, he takes your dominant hand and gliiiides it down the ridges of his washboard abs. Warm. Strong. Humming, “No need to be shy. It’s what you brought me here for, isn’t it?”

Suddenly you throw the glasses at him - and they have the audacity to bounce off of one of his perfectly chiselled pecs. “Wh-who are you- get out!”

The man pushes his angelic, ivory locks away from his face. “Actually, I’m trying to get in.” And you close your opened legs with a snap once his gaze dips between them- fuck, you were still in your panties. “Oh, how rude of me. The name’s Gojo Satoru- AKA Satorose, The Strongest. Pleasure to meet who I’ll be giving pleasure to~”

He sticks out a hand and doesn’t wait for you to grip it before grabbing your own, pressing such a lingering kiss on the back of your palm.

And you can’t pull away, you can’t even breathe because it just registered - The Strongest.

You start, feeling slightly more unhinged with each passing second his lips peck up your arm. “You’re…you’re the rose toy?” To make sure you look over the edge of your bed where it could’ve fallen - nothing. 

“Mhm, and now I’m your toy, sweetheart. You can thank the dateviators for that—”

“I think I’m going crazy-”

“Oh, you will soon.” Gojo’s batting his long lashes with a promise. “So why don’t we skip the small talk and get to business? I know you’re all wet f’me-” Leaning in so close to whisper against your ear, goosebumps erupt at his tangy hot breath. “-I can practically taste it.”

That was enough to leave your panties dripping down your thighs. 

“Oh.” Your mouth parts. What the fuck was in those glasses? None of the reviews had ever mentioned this. 

And yet, your mind still tries to regain all the sense that you’ve lost in the past few minutes. “B-but what makes you think that I want your help?”

And, to that, Gojo only looks at you as if to smugly ask ‘really?’

Then down at himself: pale hair unruly, azure eyes glinting with something dark. A flush creeps across his handsome features, between his pecs, and down each muscle n’ divot of his sculpted body like he’d been crafted by the heavens. Or maybe an expert at a sex toy company. Gojo took up nearly the entirety of your bed and suddenly you’re remembering that you ordered the biggest size online.

To be fair, he was making a very good case.

And then there was that. 

You didn’t want to stare directly at it - but a happy trail of white leads down his abs, between his thick, meaty thighs. It ends in slightly unruly tufts where he was standing proudly erect-

Fuck. 

“Fine!”

It happens before you know it. Before the word is fully out of your mouth, before you can even blink- Gojo has his hands clawed onto your thighs and his brute strength forcing you halfway down the bed.

Like a ragdoll, like he’s about to rip you apart.

Something in his touch quivers- like he’s still holding himself back, kneeling against the frame of the bed. 

As you gape, his capped knees strike the floor with loud thuds - urgent, rapid. And Gojo’s barely even registering the pain before throwing your trembling thighs over his shoulders and pushing, pushing, pushing his face between your pussy—nose-deep.

Greedy. He’s pressing the point of his nose right against your puffy cunt and taking a deeeeeep inhale-

“Oh- oh, fuck. You’re filthy.” Pushing yourself onto your elbows, you can see every lecherous huff n’ puff of him drinking you in like the sweetest fragrance. You swear- once Gojo pries your sticky panties just to the side, his drunken eyes roll to the back of his head at the scent of your oversaturated folds. 

Gojo was starving. 

And he’s not even a shred regretful about it. Already starting to drool at the feast before him, Gojo purses his rosy lips and starts to blow his scorching air on your cunt. “Mmm, you know why m’such a best-seller, sweetheart?” 

Voice octaves lower. Husky.

It makes a bead of sap slip out of you, making him tighten his hold on your thighs and moan. Irises locked on yours. Head leaning closer to where you needed him the most. “Suction.”

It’s practically a frenzied, white blur- Gojo’s head shoves between your legs and he’s taking in every inch. Dragging his textured tastebuds up the sheeny slick that glues to your thighs, sticking the pinpoint of his tongue underneath your panties, first kissing your pussylips and groaning—

“Sweet.” It’s all he can get out through his own gluttony. Open-mouthed peck after peck, the underside of his tongue slurps up the gloss of syrup on your folds. Drag after drag. “So, so sweet.”

“Ngh- oh my, mm—” You half-want to throw your head back at the sheer primal bliss, but Gojo was just so feral that you can’t help but stare at whatever he did next.

Capturing his stare dead-on once he snags his pearly whites on your underwear. Apparently eating you out through your panties wasn’t enough for him anymore - he needed more. 

He’s pulling them to one side with his mere mouth, maw suctioning around your clit like it was his precise target. Gojo wraps his lips over that cute, perky nub and sucks- “Y’know I come with hah- modes, sweetheart?” 

That fuckin’ tease. He speaks directly over your pussy, just so that the vibrations of Gojo’s throaty bass would make zaps of electricity run up your spine. 

“I have a looooow mode.” And suddenly the tip of his tongue swirls over your swollen clit- he’s pushed in so deep that it was like he was trying to swallow you whole. Trying to make you dizzy with each sultry circle he was drawing, salivating. 

‘Round and ‘round. 

Gojo’s nostrils flare right against the top of your pussy, and he’s unfastening his mouth even further. “And medium.” So tough to talk with a mouthful, but he’s immediately back to work.

Faster, the velvety muscle of his tongue comes spanking down on your clit. Enough to send shockwaves, he’s tuggin’ on it just so primally that you can’t even think- “And high.”

“Fuh-fuck!” If you thought he was ruining you before, then you were practically shattered right now. Because Gojo’s suckling on your clit like his favorite candy lolly, so harshly that the insides of his cheeks hollow. 

Teasingly, he’s squeezing down on your sensitive nub and trying to drag that part of you ever-so-slightly. Soft taste buds rolling over n’ over, tickling you sensually. “And-”

Your voice cracks pathetically, “There’s more?”

“A special mode just for you, sweetheart.” And then he’s doing it- with a few loud slurps, some swooping patterns are drawn on your throbbing clit. Only seconds later are you realizing that he’s writing his very own name—your eyes widen, mouth dropping to moan-

Before Gojo winks his half-lidded eyes up at you and bites down gently on your clit. 

Snickering as you trill out shrilly, as your hips buck. Your hand comes slamming down on the crown of his clammy scalp and you find yourself pushing. “Just sh-shut up, and- ngh!”

“Mmm, being used.” Gojo’s crooning out, and if you didn’t know any better than you’d have said he was grinning - you could feel it. From end to end of your treacly cunt, he was grinning, smushing his soft lips over your own. 

The sensation only makes you bully his head downwards even more, making him salivate from the corners of his mouth. Rasping, “Exactly how I like it, sweetheart.”

And his tongue laps at you primally- now zig-zagging all the way from your clit down, down, down to where your puckered hole was. Knocking like he was about to enter through a door. He can only manage to slither in the very first inch of his wet muscle, rutting back and forth three times to slick himself up with all your sap.

That just makes it so much easier for him to keep on swirlin’ your tight hole, “Oh, mmm—” From this angle, you can see the way that Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp of your sweetened syrup. “You got the hah- the one with the tongue attachment, didn’t you?”

Practically in tears at the constant way his tongue was trying to stretch your entrance out. “Y-yes? Why- oh.”

“Exactly.” 

It’s all that’s said- the last time that Gojo Satoru even breathes before he’s thrusting the muscle of his tongue right between your pretty pussylips. 

You were stretching out so wiiiidely open around his prolonged taste buds, scouring every inch of you from the very moment that Gojo can feel your walls. “Sweet here, too.” He’s huffing, mouth overworking to plunge his spit-glazed tongue all back n’ forth at such a rapidfire pace. “What a lucky toy I am—”

Back n’ forth, back n’ forth.

Your toes simply curl at the feeling of him bashing his long, pointed muscle into your deepest spots. Extra, extra long just for you. “Fuck- oh my god, n-never felt anything like ngh- this before, Gojo-”

“Satoru.” 

“Satoru, fuck!” 

“Mm, we’re getting there—” Gojo’s playful lips were practically glued to the front of your pussy, and each sloppy drag itches such carnal parts of you. His tongue was just as flexible as it was lengthy, jerkin’ up into the spots where you were most tender. 

Barely even able to take the stretch, and yet you’re careening your hips up for more. 

“C’mon now, sweetheart-” But that wasn’t enough for him. And you think you see utter fucking stars once Gojo just grazes his textured tip almost near your g-spot. Grumbling, “Ya can use your toy more. Use me more. Harder. I’m ah- heavy-duty, I don’t break.”

You’re all shakin’ and crying out prettily for him, digging your nails into his swerving head. “Like- ngh, this?”

“Moooore—” Pouting, his tongue sloshes inside of you a few more times before reeling back out. “How m’I supposed to do my job- mmm, otherwise.” Your clit gets gifted with a cute squelching kiss, almost like an apology - a warning.

But you’re not ready at all before Gojo’s long, slender middle finger probes your dewy entrance.

 Feeling that tight, tight first ring of muscle, “Oh! But don’t tell the- ngh, manufacturers that m’giving you my fingers, too.” And it’s not just that - you’re suddenly being spearheaded by both his middle and his index finger with a deafening wet slurp. “I just like you a loooooot~”

Your geysering orifice is being filled up to the maximum, and you can barely even clench ‘round his dual digits. Rummaging around your slick insides, “Oh my god- oh, ngh-”

Thrust after thrust. The globular ends of his fingers pry apart your sticky walls so well, snagging against your most sensitive areas. Easily pecking your g-spot with his fingerpads once more, you let off such a sinful cry—

“Oh- I like you, too.” Coyly, Gojo grins whilst looking at you. And at this point you didn’t know whether he was talking to you or your poor pussy. “And I just know you’ll love this…”

Love what?—You want to ask. But you don’t get the chance to.

Because, just then, he’s shutting up every thought in your hazy mind by making the crowned tips of his fingers vibrate. Just like the toy. 

“You- you can do that?”

Giggling, “Anything for your pleasure~”

Such sensual tremors that made pleasure creep across every inch of your body, and Gojo was more than happy to have it filling up your cute innards. Jostling his digits over and over- he shovels himself till he’s knuckle-deep against your folds and rubbing his skin damn raw with friction.

It’s like having two elongated vibrators swabbing your insides, being bullied out and in again and again until your walls are oversensitive. 

“Just like that- ngh!” Angling just so to dig in until you’re sure the area of your g-spot is left with a bruise of his circumferences. “It feels s-soooo good, Satoru.”

“Oh yeah–? Ya like that, hm?” With a hoarse chuckle at the back of his throat, Gojo’s tongue starts to roll over your neglected clit in a repeated rhythm.

But if his tongue was methodical, then his mouth was just sloppy. Because the greedier he became, the messier he was with his sucklin’ kisses. Just wild, primal drags of his open mouth that leave you quivering- Gojo was slobbering over your clit like a man starved, and you were the only meal he’s come across in aaaages.

In loooong, dewy licks that glaze the corners of his sensual mouth with your sap. You could see it dribbling all down the front of his chin at this point, “Yes- mmpf- like it s’much, oh.”

“Ya like my fingers that much, huh?” 

Another bash of those vibrating, electric fingers on your g-spot. Slickly glissading down to tenderize any rare spot inside you that he hasn’t stroked just yet, “So much- so much.”

“That so—?”

“Yes-”

“Really really so?”

“Y-yes!”

His skin was all flushed, lips swollen, bangs sticking to his head with perspiration at just how harsh n’ thorough he was motioning his head. “Hmpf- well now m’getting jealous of myself.” Gojo’s snowy brows furrow, and you’re feeling his lips on your clit- downturning into a slight frown.

Before he unlatches his maw from your dripping wet pussy with a filthy plop! 

You’re lifting your head up in a daze, “Satoru, what are you…”

Only for him to surge his head back mere sultry centimeters and push the fat girth of his tongue back inside your pussy with a sluuuuurp. Licking you all up from the inside out, letting the rovering tip of his muscle battle against his fingers. 

Gojo’s ruining you from the inside, and he’s letting his greed do all the work for him.

“O-oh my god-” From the lewd crash of his jackhammering fingertips, to the way that his tastebuds were all there to soothe the sting. To lap up any ounce of sweet, sweet slick that his hands might have dared to leave behind.

Probing, he has his slicked tongue filling in your every crevice in a way that made your mind spin. Feeling the heat of your high nearing ever-so-closely-

Blearily, he whispers against your swollen folds. “Mmm, this is more like it.” Before the honed edge of Gojo’s tongue scrapes your g-spot once more. 

And his other hand? Oh, you didn’t think that he would just let one hand go resting, did you? 

As Gojo’s left hand starts to creep alongside the inner part of your thighs, you’re almost clawing his wrist to a halt. Scratching at his skin, keening in pure need once his left set of fingers come up to pinch your wettened clit. 

“Y-you’re almost-” You can’t help but buck, so hard that the bed frame sings in synchronization with you. The triple stretch of your hole driving you mad with stinging pleasure- “-almost- hck! too much—!”

“I’m built for your pleasure, sweetheart.”

And he was eating you out exactly like it. 

From three different angles, Gojo’s scouring every inch of you. Stuck to you like adhesive, the thrashing of his fingerpads make you feel a lump in your throat. 

You’re just bawling, “Fuck-” Thighs shaking, you can’t help but clench them around his ravenous face at the heat curdling at the pit of your stomach. Suffocating. Holding on for dear life. “Fuck fuck fuck, I don’t think m’gonna last-”

And it’s exactly what Gojo wants to hear - to feel.

You, with your cunt quivering and your hips wetly humping up to meet him - using him. You, with your pretty hole bawling as much as you were. You, crying out even more like his favorite song when his fingers somehow vibrate even harder. 

He glides his tongue teasingly along your bundle of nerves just to hear you sob out even more, making sure that the next few crashes of his roughened fingerpads are particularly hard. “Mmm, is that so? Must mean I’m doing my ngh- job right, heh.”

The loudest fuckin’ squelches depart at the drag of his knobbled digits, and Gojo’s just salivating alllll over you. Letting a puddle of drool slip below your thighs, where you were gyrating up impatiently. He’s groaning, “I better finish it off then and- oh, make you cum.” Teasing left hand scrawling out his very name on top of your slick-glossed clit. “Better leave my- oh, my girl satisfied then, hmm–?”

“Sa-Satoru! M’gonna-” You’re unable to stop your noises from reaching a fever point- because with a few more thorough strokes of his fingers, he has you tipping over the edge vulgarly. 

You’re seeing white, body taken over with electricity. 

Spurred on by the tickling patterns of his tongue, you’re finding yourself maddened by the way he had you like putty in his hands. To grope. To thrust. To ruin. To shovel all his lengthy inches of his digits inside until you’re thrashing sensitively underneath him. 

Babbling, spittle coats either side of your mouth- “Cumming- cum- ngh, cumming.”

Gojo coos kindly, “I already know, sweetheart.” And he doesn’t falter, doesn’t even slow down as he pummels your softened insides through each peak of your orgasm. “Told you I’m The Strongest for a reason. I’m reeeeeally good- hck!”

Blue eyes glazed, your sap taking over his mouth like a waterfall.

He drags out your high by carnally itchin’ at your g-spot, mumbling. “Really good.” Like a mantra, he’s burrowing his face oh-so-close to your body, letting the tips of his ivory bangs tickle your skin. “Really- hck! really good.” Letting his mouth prattle away little whispers each time he’s tuggin’ on whichever inch of your glistening cunt he could reach. Slick pouring. “Really- oh…”

“S-Satoru-” Somehow, by the time your orgasm’s turning into nothing but a few tingles from your puffy pussylips, you manage to crack your teary eyes open. And oh- oh, the sight below you is enough to nearly make you want to cum again. “Satoru, you’re p-pussydrunk!”

“Haaaah—?” He’s gurgling on a glittery wad of your slick, “How can I be pussydrunk when the- ngh, only thing I can ever even think of is your pussy anyway?”

As if to prove his point, he breaks off from your sultry pussy like he’s about to give you a good word or two about how addictive your cunt is. But it’s exactly that- he can’t part from your cunt.

Gojo Satoru was addicted. 

And he’s plopping his mouth right back down onto your pussy with a treacly sound, muffling out his groans between your folds. Looking just so pretty like this; your syrupy liquids gleaming from the apples of his cheeks and down to his collarbones, glassy eyes looking through his bangs, mouth a puffy red and downturning. “Oh fuck, I forgot to make you, mmm, squirt.” Shoving himself even deeper, “Need to- mmm, squirt-”

Harder. And you can’t help but let your throat rip free a yelp, feeling dizzy at the sudden overstimulation. “Fuck- ngh! But I want something else…”

“What do you want?” He’s begging, “What do you want, sweetheart? Anything- oh, I’ll get you anything-”

“Wan’ your cock, Satoru.” Almost shy at the intensity of his stare, your eyes dip down to where he was leaning over the edge of the bed. Where just the tip-top of his achingly hard bulge was bobbing with each movement, puddling out thick precum onto the sheets like a fountain.

“Oh.” He gasps, head snapping down to where you were looking. “Oh. So you got the wand attachment-”

“Just shut up and come here.”

You don’t have to ask him twice. And in only nanoseconds, Gojo’s gone from lounging at the base of your bed to nuzzling his slick-glazed face with your own, giving you the sloppiest kiss of your entire life. “Heh, come.”

You’re just about to roll your eyes- when you’re hit with the sound of a sudden rip-rip-riiiiip from below. And then you’re hit with the sudden, startling realization that Gojo Satoru had just torn your panties clean off of you. 

“That was- l-limited edition-”

With a cocky smirk, “I am limited edition.” You’re being flipped over so that Gojo’s broad back is pressed against the mattress. Your thighs straddling his toned hips, your pussy sitting on his cock.

And oh- were you looking now. You were ogling. 

Slidin’ back and forth on top of his swollen length, mentally counting one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

“N-nine inches!” You gasp, hands scrambling to find purchase on top of his beefy deltoids. You needed it just to stabilize yourself on top of him, and with the way your folds were stretched around his girth- oh, he was just so thick.

Decorated with numerous puffy veins that throbbed and twitched with each of your movements. His sheer size left you so aroused that you were just soaking him in all your juices. 

He grins, “Well, you did order the biggest size. Ya better just hope that it fits- heh.” 

“You’re s-soooo cocky.”

“Well I am the strongest~”

And it’s just then that you’re realizing why exactly the toy’s box was just the most sinful shade of pink- his tip. Big n’ bloated, it was blushing the prettiest color of that exact ruby pink. 

You’re in awe of the correlation when Gojo taps the side of his v-line, dragging your attention to his bulky muscles on one side of his hip - and more importantly, the cursive pink tattoo. Of your name.

“Like what you see? Told ya I belong to you.” Gaping, you can only watch as he twirls the drenched fabric of your panties in his hands. Gliding it down the middle of his abs and using it to jerk his aching erection a few times underneath you. “What? Always clean your toys after use. And…”

You don’t know where to look - that tattoo of your name, or his rock-hard cock. But Gojo makes the choice for you, pushin’ your cheeks together into a pathetic pout. Jostling your head down-

“Spit.”

And you do. 

A big, glittering glob of saliva that hits the globe of his cockhead, trickling down the side of his veiny length. It pools into Gojo’s curly white hair at his base, and he shivers, “Always lubricate your toys, too.”

“Fuck-”

“And then…”

And then he’s fucking up into you. He’s shoving apart your bloated lips to jut the uppermost inch of his cock inside-

“O-oh.” Gojo’s fighting to keep his head from throwing backwards. It was just so hot inside you, feeling like he was melting with each liquidy stream of slick slipping between down to his balls. “Wider, sweetheart.”

Your hamstrings scream as you once you’re spreading them further, “Like this-”

“Wider.”

He was just so big that it was maddening enough for him to try n’ fit inside. Slightly fucking up into you in feverish, needy ruts- half-movements even, just stretching out your entrance enough to take him.

Again and again. Every buck leaves him recoiling at the resistance, feeling like he’s about to fucking pass out at that elastic, clingy sensation of your cunt.

Tight. 

“Shit-” Your breath catches in your throat once you hear a sultry pop! Realizing just then that he’d managed to bully his mushroomy tip inside, it was oh-so-thick enough that the girth of him was swabbing your walls already. Up and up you were being driven. “At this rate s’only gonna be the- mmm, tip, Satoru.”

“Yes- yes, just the tip.” And you’re shocked - Gojo Satoru relents?

Snapping your head down till it hits your chest, you’re realizing exactly why - he was completely and utterly pussydrunk. Agreeing to anything you’re saying, just another inch of his length solidly sinks inside and Gojo’s gasping for air. “Uh uh, just the tip- fuck! Anything you want, just the tip-” 

Clawing your waist still, punching up his muscular hips. 

You’re seeing stars every time he’s squeezin’ his bulging erection inside, the sheer stretch so much that it makes you clench-

THUD!

It happens in split-seconds. 

Your back is being pushed into the mattress, you’re being shoved deep enough to touch the bedsprings. All you had to do was clench your pretty, dewy wet walls and Gojo was folding you neat in half like a lawnchair. 

Into a mating press. Your thighs on his muscular shoulders, his sweaty forehead meeting yours. 

He doesn’t even hesitate before gripping your neck with one hand and usin’ the force to push, push, push you down the prolonged length of his cock. “Just the middle now-” Spitting through clenched canines, you’re handled like a ragdoll. Taking his bulging cock with the most lecherous slurps- “Just a few more inches a few- hah, a few more-”

“Oh, please—!” You’re mewling, your hands clawing down his beefy biceps. You just couldn’t stop staring at them, flexing each time he’s pushing down on your airway to make you take it. 

“Just- fuck.” Before you know it, Gojo’s other hand swats down on the middle of your tummy and presses. Feeling his thick, probing cock inch its way inside your pussy- “Ya reeeeeally had to- hck! order the biggest size, didn’t you, nasty girl?”

The flats of his palm make it feel like his rovering was reaching your very lungs. Just the capped crown of his shaft slipping between your walls lewdly. “I-I- ngh-” 

“I-I-I—” He’s mocking, voice dramatically octaves higher in a way you definitely did not sound. Gojo tilts his head down at you, peering through thick lashes. “Look at you now, huh. Wanted the biggest size and now you can’t even, mmm, take it.”

So long that it was like it’s never-ending. Ever-probing, the sultry tip of his cock swabs into your most tender areas and leaves you squealing. 

And just when you think there can’t be more, there is.

Gojo’s only getting thicker towards the bottom, the most sinful right-leaning curve just like that part of the toy had been. And it’s perfect for fitting inside with scraping strokes, for pushing you up the bed with pap! after animalistic pap! of his hips driving into yours. 

“But m’built to p-please, sweetheart. To please you.” Still babbling away, you’re getting even tighter with each inch he’s stuffing inside. Bigger. Harder. “So don’t you dare hah- hold out on me. Just three inches more, th-three inches more.”

“Three inches more?” Something at the pit of your stomach twists at the way he was talking you through it - or maybe that was his hand pressing down even further. 

Smirking, “Mhmmm– three inches more. Two-” Head throwing forwards, mouth starting to water. “Two inches more.”

“Inches- ngh-” The more you were being filled, the more your throat was clogging. With tears upon whines upon need.

His thighs slam yours particularly hard- “Yeeees—say it f’me.”

“One more-” Until you’re ultimately saying- “M-more!”

Gojo hisses under his breath– before smashing forwards until his hilt pounds your pussylips. 

Until he was bottomed out - and still rutting viciously back and forth, trying to plunge even deeper inside. Your hot innards were exactly like heaven to him, and the slightest saturated clenched leaves Gojo stuttering. “S-say it again?” 

“More- oh.” Just to be rummaged with such a long, teasing thrust.

“Mmm—” Gojo gnaws down on his bottom lip like strawberry bubblegum, looking at you with such a heady stare. “Exactly what a toy like me needs to hear.”

And he’s pushin’ you straight down into the rickety bed frame with looooong, vulgar strokes. Aiming from the crown of his bulging tip to the fat, luscious base of his cock - Gojo was impatient. He was needy. He was pulling out his pulsing cock just to spear you even more rudely. 

And any time you’re moaning in pleasure, that only makes him swell even harder inside of you. 

“Fuck- fuck! Please- more more more.” Like a broken mantra, you shrill. To make him lose his mind and to feel the scalding girth of his shaft get bigger. Snaggin’ on your walls-

“Yes- yeeees— say it like that.” Gojo’s azure eyes are widened, almost crazed. And his hand lifts off of your tummy to hold onto one of your free ones, guiding it to his chasing hips. Right where that lecherous tattoo was. 

The skin around it had turned rawly red by now with the impact, sensitive to the touch. You look on in slight confusion at his sudden movements and he only snickers. “You gotta, ngh, guide me, sweetheart. You gotta- ohhh yeah, use me just like thaaaat.”

Making you hold onto his hips, Gojo thinks he sees the pearly gates just as soon as you’re using what feeble strength you have left to move him ‘round.

To have him angling his flared cockhead, stubbornly mazing past your walls with the target of your g-spot. It only takes a few tries for him to suddenly budge your nerves with his length.

The round, strawberry-colored top of his tip striking your most favorite spot like a bullseye. Kissing. Snogging. “Heh, f-five stars if I do say so myself.”

“Satoru, are you fuck- pussydrunk—?” You didn’t even need to ask that - you knew he already was. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from nodding along to his nonsensical talking, just as lust-addled as the sopping wet squelches from your pussy. “What do you mean ‘five stars’-”

“I mean…”

And he trails off, leaving you wanting even more. Even though his bulging, pre-glazed cock certainly wasn’t.

So swollen n’ red, he probes his silvery slit along your walls. Making you squirm with each scratch of his cockhead, it’s almost teasing the way that Gojo reaches exactly for your g-spot once more and bashes that tender spot in. “See? One.”

Oh. 

You’re struck with both the realization and a second, primal hammering of his shaft. Into that very same bundle of nerves you love so much. 

“T-two-” 

“Oh my god-”

He’s gruffly groaning, heavy balls tightening at the slamming impact. But that still doesn’t make him stop, still doesn’t even make him slow down. He only scours your treasure trove of walls inside and maps out your exact g-spot again- “Three-” Again and again. “Four- five. Hah! Five stars.”

And now Gojo was fucking you like he hated you. Like he was trying to prove himself to you.

The most reverent worshipper of your treacly pussy, he was making you cry out with each deep-seated kiss to your every weepy orifice. Every nook and cranny. Gojo had been starving since he was out of that box, and he was taking it out on your poor hole.

“That’s m-more than five–!” You’re crying out after a while. 

“Oh? M’more than five stars, huh?” Purring- at least, you thought for a single delirious second that he was purring. Until you’re realizing that it was simply his vibrator-like fingers, once more attaching themselves onto your clit. “Why thank you.”

Throwing your hands over the bulky height of his shoulders, you pull him in close. Trying not to whine simply at the sensation of his firm, beefy abs glissading down your front - he was ripped. 

And he was pummelling into you like he was about to rip you to shreds, sensually dragging the drivelling orifice of his shaft straight down to your womb. You feel Gojo in your very throat, and he’s slowly but surely getting addicted to the spongy touch of your cervix. “Oh- I’m gonna bruise myself into this cunt, sweetheart.”

Bulging your insides like he was trying to prove it, a thick batter of precum slips n’ slides down your thighs as you squeeze them ‘round his waist. “P-please-” Bucking. Grinding. He only draws hearts on your clit harder, “Please it’s so much-”

And that makes mean, merciless Gojo flick your oversensitive nub and write out his damn name straight across it. S-A-T-O-R-U—“What’s that, spell—?”

“Satoru-” 

A light thwack! of his fingertips on your pulsing clit. “Nuh uh, your Satoru.” And you half-wondered whether his wrist might be aching with how fast they were toyin’ with your cute nub.

It almost hurt how good it felt. Forcing you to anchor your feet onto the bed and bow your body backwards in electric bliss-

“Ah ah-” You’re moving so much that Gojo has to dig his fingerpads into the skin of your neck and pin you, pushing you down with the front of his happy trail. No escape. “S-stop running-”

Somehow, he manages to choke out through the sheer pressure of his thrusts - taking such a sultry toll on him, as well. And all he can do is to wrangle you in his arms, folded until your ass cheeks were lifting clean off the satiny sheets. Until he was just drilling into you like he was frenzied, feverish. “Stop running- fuck! You know we sell handcuffs, too?”

The buzzing tip of his finger gently spanks your cunt and you squeal, “B-but I can’t help it-” Clawing red, red lines down his back. “Feels like m’gonna cum any- hngh, any second now.”

Just in that moment, he’s digging his plump, thickened circumference against your walls and you can see your vision shatter with tears. Oh-so-close now that it felt like he was just milking himself on your velvety pussy- 

“Yeah- Oh yeah? Y’know I only live to p-please you, sweetheart.” A wobbly smile graces Gojo’s handsome face, a thin trickle of sweat sliding down his forehead. “So why don’tcha be a goooood owner f’me and do what you have to do?”

Tearily, you blink up at his feral expression. “Wh-what’s that, Satoru?”

Instead of answering, he only increases the vibrato in his fingertips - each zap sending your body shaking, mind spinning. He only slams his hips so hard that your eardrums pop, sponged cervix giving way to his probin’ swabbing shaft. 

He only whispers in your ear, “Cum.”

And in that moment you can’t control it- you do. 

You think you almost might have even if it wasn’t for Gojo’s guttural, greedy voice. 

It’s just about the hardest orgasm of your life, you can barely even think- even breathe. Your walls constrict like they’re trying to hold back his vicious thrusts, g-spot now throbbing with slammed impact.

“Sa—fuck! Toru- I’m-”

“Cum. Cum- cum.” He’s uttering out like a mantra into the skin of your neck. And as if his rough cadence wasn’t enough, you’re being dragged down by the hand at your throat to further ram against his v-line. Ruinous. Reddening his skin.

You’re fisting desperately at the sheets, hips helplessly bucking with each white-hot shockwave of euphoria taking over your body.

Gojo feels you clampin’ away around him, trying to milk each peak of your high. The globular crown of his shaft glissades constantly down your walls and directly against your womb- making you see stars. “Cum- fuck! If you’re g-gonna cum then-”

You’re so sensitive at this point that just the burning intensity of Gojo’s stare makes you shiver, “Then what–?”

He grins sleazily, “Then you better make use of the fact that I’m water-proof.”

Oh, he wanted you to squirt. 

Barely even getting used to the constant adrenaline of your orgasm flooding your fuzzy brain, it’s then that Gojo’s vibrating fingertips slither their way down from the folds of your pussy. Down to hook inside your dewy hole–

“Sh-shit shit shit-” Your entire body shakes, every leftover ounce of rationality in you dissolving. You’re drooling so much by now that it’s forming an ocean of wetness on your pillow, “Wait- m’so- hah, sensitive.”

“I love it sensitive.” He’s giggling, doughy fingerpads starting to pump at the same rude tempo as his cock was. It’s just stretching you out so much, his vibrations making you so stupid. 

You’re just dragging your nails ferally down his back, feet pushing back against the mattress- almost like your body didn’t know whether you wanted to run from the carnal sensations or grind back in for more, more, more. 

To barely even have the chance to catch your breath from your last orgasm before Gojo’s plunging you into your next. Your third of the day - and, this time, you were squirting. 

Just like he’d wanted. 

Just like he’d dreamed of - in big, heaping splashes of your syrupy slick that drenched his tense core. It slipped down his massively rovering cock and almost made him jealous. 

So awestruck with your explosive high, he fucks his furious cock faster. “I can’t believe- hah! can’t believe you made me-” And you’re the one noticing his orgasm first, the fact that he was creaming your bruised insides white. “Toru- you’re cum—ing—”

Gojo looks down with a gasp, “Oh.” Noticing the ring of sleek white that was already starting to formulating ‘round his base.

He’s cumming just from making you cum.

Piling on his seed against your cervix, you can feel him webbing up your innards with all his ivory sap and it drives you crazy. Each buttery heap of cum being shot out with a lecherous sluuurp—“I did it- hah, I did my job well, didn’t I?” Gojo spits out, draaaaaging your pathetically escaping body back once more to dig his vibrating fingers between your pussylips. He sloshes around his slick cum inside like a mixer, “Did I make you feel goooood, sweetheart?”

“Y-ngh, yes- oh.” You can only gurgle out half-formed answers. Body uselessly tremblin’ all throughout your wave of high, it arcs like a crescent and makes you shake with bliss after each wire of cum streaking your walls. “Please- ngh-”

So sensitive. So fucking full. 

It feels like ages of skin-on-skin until you’re finally dropping from your orgasm, spent cunt letting off only a few more pearly beads of juices. 

And you’re mindlessly making to get onto your elbows, ready to have mercy upon your poor body and pull away when-

“Wh-where do you think you’re going?”

“Wha- oh!”

Being dragged back, you’re in the manhandling arms of Gojo Satoru once more. And he was gone- dazed eyes barely open, teeth snarling, pants labored. “Didn’t you read the- the package, sweetheart?” As if you could think of reading - or doing, really - anything right now. Gojo snickers like he already knew the answer to that question, “I can last for hoooooours~”

Oh, fuck.

And he kept his word. 

The packaging boasted about two to three hours of usage- but you’re fairly sure that Gojo was rock-hard and swollen for much, much longer. 

He was dragging you with inhuman stamina through a second and third round after that, until your poor g-spot was so sensitive that it’d brought you to needy tears. Then a fourth, where his sensual fingers were cramping up- but he’d still pumped them inside until you were falling apart on them. Then a fifth, where you’d completely been dumbified on his cock, your high nothing but some zaps of electricity that he was still proudly wrenching out of your overworked body. And finally…

“Ngh- ngh.” Gojo tries to muffle his lil’ whimpers by sucking on your tongue- failing. And it’s creating the most sinful songs, his fingertips weakly vibrating down your teary slope. “S-sooo good…”

Just the fact that you made The Strongest’s voice crack makes you gulp. “Toru- how are you still even going-”

And he doesn’t answer your question- not yet. 

Gojo had you bent on all sloppy fours; his ridged abs melting into your back, hips merely grinding- not even thrusting by now, his chin digging into the crook of your neck. And most sinful of all, he had you in a damn headlock. 

Angling your slobbering mouth into his, he’s urging you to spit between those pretty lips of his. “Because I can always- hah, recharge.” How absolutely filthy.

Gojo giggles - giggles. “Why thank you.” And apparently you’d said that last sentence out loud without even registering it.

And it was driving you mad, making you gyrate your hips back into his. So gone by now that tears were flowing freely down your cheeks n’ adding to the mess of saliva down on your pillows.

You’re fucking him in lecherous strokes, mere drags of your walls down his veiny length. Every zig-zagged line was simply coated in enough slick n’ cum to slosh around inside of you. You let out a mewl, “I don’t- oh please- I don’t think I even c-can cum, ngh.”

“You can, sweetheart- you will. M’making sure of it-” Snarling against the shell of your ear. Even on low battery, the tremors of Gojo’s fingers were fatal. 

Dragging out your clit, syncing with the honed strikes of his bulbous tip against your cervix. Just graaaazing you until you felt all raw. 

“I need to make you cum- need to-” He’s rolling his eyes to the back of his head, “Just get on your knees and I’ll- ngh, fuck, make you…”

“I-I’m already on my knees, Toru—” Crying out at the tightening of his headlock, beefy forearm restraining your airway. 

“Oh.” And by now you had no idea whether it was you or him that was more gone. Because Gojo’s completely drunk on the suctioning, heated feeling of your cunt. Already letting his pitch lilt octaves higher, breathy. You can feel the positively predatory grin on your skin- “Then cum, sweetheart~”

Whimpering, you can’t do anything but throw your head back and let your body listen to him. 

Like he could predict exactly when you were going to fall over the edge, you find white flashing behind your eyelids. Arms shaking, you can barely even hold yourself up as your nth orgasm of the night takes over you- but, luckily enough, you didn’t have to with Gojo’s headlock holding you up.

Keeping you in place for him to rover his hungry cock, thrust after thrust through your high. Just the way you looked so pretty cumming ‘round his length made him flinch, made him start to moan.

It only takes him one, two, three squeezes from your throbbing walls to let go, too. 

Moaning out your name like a mantra, one hand gripping the headboard, hips slamming—

Splat! Splat! Splat!

Something hot n’ wet hits your shoulder, and your breath catches. Looking behind you, you find your heart stuttering at the sight of Gojo Satoru, overstimulated, crossed eyes scrunching as he tears up. He whispers- “Cum- cumming. Did I do good, sweetheart?”

Gojo was crying at the blank bursts from the end of his shaft, you’d just made him cum dry. And he could do nothing but let the sudden bliss take over him, so much so that it was almost painful. 

CRACK–! Only later - hours and hours later - would you recognize that crack to be your poor bedframe. Shattering under his constant, feral strength - he’d broken the bed.

Again and again– by now he’d collapsed on top of you, pushing you so far deep into the bed. 

He looked so cute like this - bottom lip jutting out, eyes shuttered, grunting whimpers leaving his throat after each thrust. Oh-so-sensitive that it was making his entire body shake just to fuck you through your dual highs. “Can’t believe-” Gojo chokes, sounding agonized, “C-can’t believe- I- dry, oh. The thing you do to me.”

By the time you’re clear-headed enough to register his hazy words, the buzzing of his fingertips had died down completely. And he was instead using them to shovel in all the clingy wads of cum spraying out of your hole, overspilling.

As Gojo snuggles up to you from behind, he makes sure that not a single creamy drop gets wasted- sometimes slicking it over his fingerpads like glaze and sucking. 

“Mmm—” You’re hearing Gojo hum from behind you, “F-five stars, huh, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes in fondness, “Oh, shush.” 

“Can’t, I’m one of the loud types.”

And once Gojo simply occupies himself with making an even bigger mess of your dripping wet cunt, you find your eyes catching on something you hadn’t thought about in hours.

The glasses - the dateviators, to be exact.

They’d somehow found themselves on your bedside table during all your lecherous chaos. Without thinking much of it, you’re leaning over to grab them. Putting them on and-

“The fuck?”

Both of you snap your heads towards the commotion- the husky, mean baritone commotion. And both your jaw and the glasses clatter to the floor at the sight of a man more towering than Gojo. And somehow even more cocky.

Perhaps seven feet, maybe even taller. He had beady crimson eyes, and tattoos across nearly every inch of his muscular body - and that included all four beefy arms. Crossed rudely, a pink brow arches at the sight below him, “The King ends up in a fuckin’ box under this bed and some pathetic rose toy gets to play with ya, mama?”

Gojo snarls, “Oi- who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“Ryomen Sukuna, or Duomen Sukuna- tch.” Unimpressed, he stares down your other non-human companion, “The Strongest in history.”

“False advertising-”

“I’m going to kill-”

Your eyes inadvertently drop between Sukuna’s tattooed thighs; monstrously big, both long n’ mind-shatteringly veiny with a happy trail of pink. And almost instantly you know just what had just come to life - that one massive, double dildo from Bad Dragon that’d once been gifted to you by your friends as a joke.

A joke.

Though, you weren’t in much of a joking mood when you say-

“How about we settle this-” And they both look at you in curiosity as you grin, “-in bed?”

“We love the way you think…”

A/N. I find myself so amusing for that ending.

Your teeth sink into the side of his neck a little harder and the cock you have stuffed inside you hardens back up immediately.

Then your tongue laps over the area you just bit him in and you pull back a little, "Mhm," You hum, rocking your hips forward again just for his hands to clasp onto you tighter—nails digging into your skin. "And did you just whine, 'Kuna?"

"I did no such thing." He denies.

"You did." You argue as your tongue slicks down along his neck before you begin kissing at his tensing skin, "You liked that, didn't you?"

"Perhaps," Sukuna mutters honestly.

How could he possibly lie to his precious wife when you’re like this?

Right then, you maneuver all the way upright and as he looks up, he’s reminded of why he married you in the first place. You’re a beautiful mess of his touches—imprints of his nails strung out across all areas of your body, skin slick in areas where he’d licked earlier, and marks of biting left in the most obscene of places.

As if to surprise him further and give him yet another reason to experience love in his heart for you, your hand greets his neck and you use whatever strength you have in you to force him further down against the silks below.

"Mmgh-, choking me now?" Sukuna husks, cock jolting inside you with a nasty twitch, his eyes going wide, and breath threatening to stutter in his lungs. Then he smiles wickedly, "Come now, wife. If you want more from me like you so claim, squeeze harder."

And squeeze harder you do, earning a sharp buck of his hips that even Sukuna himself wasn't expecting. His eyes flutter back a little and he grunts, sharp teeth flaring for a moment with the way his mouth opens all beast-like.

You can feel how erratically his dick is twitching inside you, aching to fuck something all the more sinful into you. All whilst his second cock is felt throbbing in between your asscheeks, silently pleading to enter you once more.

You’d already spent the past however many hours switching back ‘n forth between both of his lengths, draining each for all their worth, and even stuffing both into that greedy cunt of yours just to suck an impossible amount of his cum into you.

Sukuna’s massive body shifts a bit, as if to escape you for a moment so he can catch his breath, but your grip on his throat gets tighter and his brows furrow.

Noticing his attempt at escaping you, your head tilts and you scoff, “Give me an heir if you wish to breathe.”

The irony of your words—as if he hadn’t already stuffed you to the brim with his seed already—is almost enough to make him laugh.

“O-Oh,” Sukuna stammers for the first time—possibly in his life—his eyes fluttering further back into his skull as he finds himself so fully in awe of you. “Fuuck,” The curse flies out his throat as if pained but a big smile sprawls out across his kiss-swollen lips. “Take.. hahh… take the heir from me, wife. Fuck one out of me.”

Those magic words seem to do it for you as your hips return with momentum, rocking ‘n bouncing on his cock within the next few seconds as he relishes in the feel of you using him.

“Mnh! Sukuna,” You’re moaning again, the sound a sweet melody to his ears as his smile remains up until you add a pretty, “You feel s’good inside me.”

“Do not praise me, woman.” Sukuna’s brows scrunch up again and he groans. “I am still your king—“ The last word hardly falls from his tongue before he’s met with a sharp pain flying across his cheek, the feeling earning a feral thrust of his hips up into yours.

His brain sputters for a moment as he processes what the hell you just did. Never in all his years has a human ever had the audacity to hit him in such a way.

And fuck if it doesn’t drive him absolutely insane.

His head is slow to turn as he blinks, “…Did you just slap me?”

You’re visibly nervous, holding your hand near yourself as you gulp, “I-I’m sorry, I just..”

His hands lock onto your body to keep you in place and you merely blink once or twice before he’s moving. One of his other hands move down and he’s glaring at you whilst steadily adjusting his second—now fully erect—cock into you. The stretch of both his dicks inside you again has your body spasming forward as you shudder in pleasure.

Then his face twists up—cheeks pink with blush—and his jaw falls open to display his shock from prior as he huffs, “Again, wife. Hnngh-, please slap me again.”

Your head shakes, “Sukuna, I cannot—“

“I command it.” Your husband grits out all brat-like.

You hit him again, a little harder than the first time, and there’s yet another thiiiiick load of cum gushing out of his sweltering cockheads into your pussy. The sudden burst has his seed spurting out everywhere from where you’re stuffed—splashing up against his abdomen and leaking all down his twitching balls.

You finally feel as though that was enough to breed you like you’d wanted and Sukuna’s half lucid with how much he’d just emptied into you.

With a pleased grin on your face, you soon look down and let your brows shoot up in surprise as you catch the way his stomach mouth laps at a bit of his cum.

“Sukuna,” You snicker, “Are you tasting yourself?”

His eyes are shut now but he manages to frown, “Silence from you, woman.”

Your smile widens, “Does it taste good?”

“Keep-, hah… Keep talking and I’ll make you lick this entire mess clean.”

perm sukuna tags (1/2):

@cupidstrace @iiakithegoat @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @grignardsreagent @kingofpiratesiguess @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa444 @etsuniiru @starsryi @not-a-glad-gladiator

@audiblez @2kool4skoolll @bbfawns @elliescumtubeslut @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @oookore @whore4hobie @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey

@iaintblockinnobody @anothergojostan @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @kunababy @withersworld @lilacsforveins @suguphile

@megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @bellesiy @serenadesvt @simp4idk

Soon enough, you’re rovering your heel ambly up and down the plane of his thighs, up and down, up and down—in nothing but a mere graze. 

The tips of his ears scorch red as he feels his smart, smoothened trousers getting tighter n’ tighter by the second. Nanami fights not to let his gaze dart downwards, he fights—but the slightest sensation of your heel inching closer, and he cracks.

Soon enough, your stare follows.

And you’re letting out a curious hum as you take in the bulge he was embarrassingly sporting. 

“Oh? What’s this?” He damn-near flinches at the tone of your voice - so mockingly innocent. Nanami knew better- he knew so much better. “My portfolio never said you were such a pervert, Agent 7:3.”

He spits out, “No-”

“Yes.”

And he’s always loved those jet-black, barrel-black, heels of yours- honestly! 

They sat collecting dust in a corner of your half of the closet, and he always did think they contrasted perfectly with his pale-green suits. 

Though, he did often wonder when you’d bring them out.

He just never could’ve expected this…

Nanami lets out a pained hiss- letting his head drop backwards ever-so-slightly as you’re stepping down even harder. “Hard?” Your smile widens, feeling him throb and twitch beneath your heel. “Getting even harder? How did we ever get here, hubby—?”

How did you two ever get here, indeed.

.

.

.

Nanami remembers the pre-mission briefing perfectly- he always was told he had a photographic memory. However, the details of this particular day stand out so crystal clear in his brain that it was almost too sharp; like a rusty nail, or the point of your heel.

It’d been a sunny Thursday, even though daylight never pierced the headquarters of JISE (Japanese Intelligence Services’ Eastern-focused division). Nanami - though he wasn’t Nanami Kento, here, he was Agent 7:3 - had done this same song and dance, song and dance, song and dance over a hundred times already. It was routine as he flipped through the thick file that’d been slid over to him.

Agent Corpse [CONFIDENTIAL—Yaga Masamichi] sat with his arms crossed and a grim expression upon him that he wore nearly as much as his sunglasses. He waited patiently as Nanami finished reading through the miniscule blocked typing and looked up at him.

“So…” He started, neatly closing the file. “The mission seems standard, I don’t see why I would have any trouble with it.”

Yaga sighed and pushed his shades up, “It’s not the intelligence-gathering I see you having trouble with, rather it’s the…social aspects.”

Nanami raised a blond brow, “Social?”

“This mission-” Yaga sternly tapped the top of the file, “This isn’t one of your lone wolf operations, 7:3. To get close to the head of the Zenin family, you need to take on more roles than one. A family man. A father. A husband.”

The blond man steeped in his silence as his higher-up continued. 

“You need to really live in this role, Kento—” He was startled - Yaga almost never called him that. Through his dark sunglasses, the older man’s eyes twinkled. “You need to believe it.” 

“I…”

Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, he flicked open the file to a comprehensive list of potential orphanages and single women around his age in Tokyo: the building blocks to his faux-family. “Two people here will be counting on you to believe in your role.” Yaga spoke low, “And whatever that means for them after this mission is over…” This was always the hardest part. “From now onwards, consider yourself a husband and father before a spy. First and foremost.”

Nanami had never carried out a mission that involved other people.

And there was silence that stretched taut and nearly snapped- before Nanami answered in the only way he knew he could. 

He looked at nanami with steely brown eyes, “Respectfully, I am the best spy in all of Japan’s Eastern Division for a reason, sir.”

Yaga slammed the file shut. It resounds louder than it should’ve - and there was the slightest smile twitching at his lips. “Good.”

For the good of the nation. 

The days thereafter weren’t what Nanami would consider a blur—rather a list of procedures pertinent to his mission, of which he went through them all step by step, strictly and methodically. An exercise so tried and tired by him that he could do them in his sleep (he always slept with one eye open).

First, he rented out a nice home in suburban Shibuya, a spy’s-distance away from the Zenin ancestral home. It was a cosy cookie-cutter home for the cosy cookie-cutter life that he supposes normal civilians have the privilege to live, with cookie-cutter welcome mats and a patch of green garden from which sprouted a spare sprig that one could never be too sure wasn’t plastic. It had a dog home, too. Not because of any request or seeking from Nanami’s side, but because most families that lived in such a place owned one.

So he went out and adopted a shelter dog to keep up with appearances. 

And how to explain the mysterious funds to the nosy neighbors? Well, his cover story of living in Denmark because of his grandfather’s side could only hold up for so long - Nanami got a cover job as a psychiatrist at the nearest affluent hospital. And then…

Then came the slightly difficult part.

Nanami Kento had done research on twenty-one different orphanages in Tokyo and several more outside before he’d finally landed in Sendai. And that was where he met Itadori Yuji.

Name: Itadori Yuji.

Age: 6 [March 20th]

Family: None alive. His parents died shortly after his birth [cause unknown], and he was taken care of by his paternal grandfather - his only living family - until he, too, passed from illness [lung cancer].

Other: Has been rehomed four times in the four-month span that he’s been living at the institution. Gets along well with others, cheerful disposition—is generally a good kid, though he seems to have trouble finding a guardian that can handle his energy. No matter how much they tease and taunt him - in the cruel, unknowingly callous way of children - Itadori still attempts to engage with them day after day, particularly with his tiger toy. He just needs some love. 

Nanami’s stern eyes lingered on that last word. 

He looked up from the sheet that the caregiver had handed to him. It was the first one that he’d been given- and by the sheer speed at which they had, he assumed that they’d been more than eager to get rid of the pink-haired little boy. Nanami glanced around the cream-colored room; small and cardboard-strong. This was a shady place.

He makes note of its location and organization to pass over to Yaga later. 

Under the rim of the paper, he could see two small shoes getting scuffed on the carpet.

And as he puts it down to stare at Itadori, the boy raises his tiger toy upwards. An offering.

Wide chocolate eyes and trembling lips.

He looked as if he was about to cry.

Nanami doesn’t take the offering—though he did crouch down and reach his hand out to clasp one chubby, cotton-stuffed hand, he mimicked shaking hands. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Tiger.” Albeit a little stiffly - Nanami somewhat awkwardly attempted to smooth his features down to something warm as he looked at the boy then. “And who might you be?”

He’s never seen a smile wider.

And thus, everything was going according to plan.

There was the slightest hiccup when it turned out that Itadori Yuji needed tutoring - a lot of tutoring - that Nanami pored and labored over until he was seeing fractions in his nightmares, before he could complete the entrance exam for Jujutsu Academy. But he got in—by some cosmic miracle, Itadori Yuji got in. 

He’s never been prouder- as a fake father, of course. 

Everything really was going to plan. First came the baby, then came the prestigious school acceptance to get Itadori to form an acquaintance with Fushiguro Megumi, then came the marriage. 

A little out of order, he knows.

And then after bumping into you at the local bakery he often frequented, he knew he’d found his future wife.

Not in a romantic way—he swears! 

He swears.

“Oh…you dropped this.” You’d caught his attention in that gentle tone of yours. 

Dropping down, you’d handed him an embroidered handkerchief he’d dropped during the collision - his favorite item to carry, in addition to the fact that it had a slip of poison stuffed between the folds. One he’d been planning to use on one of the Zenin elders just today…

What would he have done without you?

Similarly crouching before you straightened yourself, Nanami had met your eyes tenderly as he took the poisoned handkerchief from you. “Thank you…and your name?”

You’d looked down shyly as you answered. Venom at your fingertips.

He killed a man that evening and could only think about you the entire time- in the best way.

Name: Well, he’d turned it over and over in his mind until it was practically emblazoned.

Age: You never ask a lady her age.

Occupation: Clerk at Tokyo City Hall.

Family/ friends: None of note.

Looks: Perfect.

And Nanami was never a romantic type of man to begin with - it was always work, work, work, espionage. And after a long, hard day of his duties (spying was surprisingly not as thrilling as the movies made it seem) he rarely had the time to think about anything more than that. Something…beyond just his responsibilities.

Something in the future. 

He knew he wanted to retire, some day, but that was in a future he didn’t care to set a date on. Setting a date on it made it seem more real.

A picket-fence. A garden. A dog running around that he pretended to grumble at. The pitter-patter of small feet and the laughing of the one that followed it—all while he watched from the front porch. Flashes of such nonsense have run through his mind; but only in the dead of night when he could pass those off as fever dreams. And pretend to forget them in the morning. 

And so Nanami Kento got married.

It was a hasty affair - about a week after he met you. Three dates and one introduction to Itadori later (it was important he liked you…because how else would the ruse of a happy family be believable?) and you were submitting a form of marriage registration to the very City Hall you worked at. New to the neighborhood, you didn’t have a lot of friends nor family to invite, which just made Nanami’s just so much easier.

To your coworkers, however, it had garnered the most amusing reaction.

Nanami had been present for a work function of yours, when you’d mustered up your courage and commented to one of your associates that he wasn’t just your boyfriend, and then you’d showed them the ring. He’s never seen more smug jaws dropped.

It’s then that he’d decided you were actually rather humorous. Humorous enough that perhaps this mission, despite its unknowing collaborators, won’t be too hellish after all…

Perhaps he’d even have a decent time playing pretend.

Before he has to leave it all - the home, the doghouse, the dog and the kid who’d be rehomed with a loving family he handpicks, and you.

.

.

.

One week before the marriage. 

“You understand that he will be the most difficult target you’ve yet to encounter?”

“I understand.”

“You understand that he is highly-trained, highly-experienced, and dangerous?”

“I understand.”

The masked higher-up straightens and snarls at your assertiveness, “You understand that your mission is not over until you’ve succeeded in assassinating Nanami Kento?”

“I understand.” But no matter how much they attempt to deter you - you’re keeping your head held as high as ever. Hands behind your back. Dagger cutting through the dim lighting with its malicious glints. After so many years in this profession, you can only grow as miserable and nerve-wracked to an extent before every target simply becomes a job.

More than that; you fume silently as those damn higher-ups at the Garden underestimate you.

The Garden was a group of specially-trained assassins operating predominantly within inner-Tokyo, though you did branch off to other wards when required. And of them all, you were their #1: the best of the best, a kill count that you’d stopped measuring, the one they sent on only the most hazardous missions. 

There was a reason you’d been nicknamed The Phantom.

Playboys. Politicians. Athletes and singers—you’ve seen it all. The good and the bad. The deserving and perhaps the undeserving- though you never pondered upon it.

They were all the same faceless, breathless targets to you. And your dagger always hit bullseye.

Sometimes, however…sometimes you did wonder what the bigger ripples of your jobs were. Would anyone search for them? Would anyone notice? Would anyone cry nor care? Was this, perhaps, what stopped you from finally leaving this damn place - were you deserving of such leniency?

Sometimes you did wonder whether you withheld from the simple pleasures in life because you were punishing yourself, in a way. A family. A hearth. A home. But a guilty assassin was no better than one of their own targets - there are more ways to die than just in the physical. 

And so you didn’t think about it.

You didn’t do anything but glare at the higher-up that sat behind his desk, his papers, and his smooth white mask. Who were they to undermine you? “I have never failed a mission before, and I will never fail a mission ahead. I will take this job and complete it before you even know what’s happened.”

He lets out a wheezing chuckle- it was abnormal for them to be so flippant about your success rate when it comes to a job. “That’s the spirit.” He throws over a paper-thin file, “You’ll need it.”

You’ve taken down spies before- hell, you’ve even taken down other assassins. To have him act so dubious about this job? Jolting a step towards him, it really made you wonder about the nature of this particular target…

And so you’re flipping through the single page of information the Garden had on him.

Case 143

Codename: Agent 7:3 [rumored to be linked to the target’s impeccable ability to find the weakest points when attacking any building, vault, or person.]

Name: Nanami Kento.

Age: 27

Height: 6’1 - 6’2

Looks: Blond hair. Hazel eyes. Fine features. Broad-shouldered and fairly toned, he is known to be partial to suits and other clean-cut clothes above anything else. 

Profession: Secret agent.

Family: Unknown.

Residence: Unknown.

Current mission: Unknown.

Status: Currently active and HIGHLY DANGEROUS.

Those last two words had been underlined twice.

But you were determined. 

In the time assigned to you by the higher-ups, you deduced that you’d have about three attempts. 

What’s that saying about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer? You wondered whether there was anything in there about marrying them.

.

.

.

First attempt.

Long-distance sniping wasn’t exactly the most comfortable technique. 

Then again, perhaps you were just experienced enough to worry about such a thing. You’d be lucky.

You’re laid low on your front; against the slightly-damp rooftop of a building between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. The cold, hard floor pushed against your body and lifted you meters overlooking the scramble below—humans, animals, cars, all in a symbiotic collision of which contact never happened. 

You’ve been married to Nanami Kento for about a week now.

And in that week you’ve taken note of his routine, his work hours, his favorite stops along the route…home. All under the guise - the guise - of being his considerate wife. 

And it’d turned out to be a worthy sacrifice in the end once you’d discovered that the stoic, sensible Agent 7:3 had what you’d never have expected of him: a sweet tooth. Everyday after work, no matter how tired he is, he’d stop by the bakery he met you in—picking out a few treats to bring home to you and Itadori. 

It was a cosy establishment squatted on a corner of Shibuya Crossing and next to the apothecary; vines creeping down the sides, wide-open wooden doors, and decorated with luscious baked goods in the window. The only reason you yourself had gone there was to manufacture a meeting with Nanami. But here he was right now, seated in a window booth with a book in his hands. Gold-rimmed glasses on his nosebridge. Legs stretched out beneath the table. Blond brows furrowed just a little as his eyes scanned the page.

He looked almost like something out of a movie. Perhaps he couldn’t have looked more unassuming if he tried. 

You’re letting your gaze linger on him through the rifle scope for a few seconds. 

And it’s in this brief pocket of time that Nanami sets his book down, takes off his glasses, and looks through the window straight in your direction. Yours. 

You startle.

You take perfect aim at his head and shoot.

BANG!

Meanwhile, Nanami Kento is having a quiet relaxation - a rare moment. His ‘job’ as a psychiatrist kept him more busy than he would have expected, on top of using the position to spy on the vast Zenin members that flitted in and out of the hospital sometimes. He was about halfway through the last story of The King in Yellow, marking down notes on the Zenins in its margins, when he straightens up and glances down at his watch.

Humming to himself at the time, Nanami gathers his things and looks up at the sunny sky above. It was a beautiful day.

Thus, in prim, precise movements, he’s getting up - not too fast - and making his way to the counter to tip the serving staff extra.

CRASH!

Nanami’s taken just a single step away from where the bullet surely would have struck him—a honed head of metal that shatters the Tokyo atmosphere at over 1200 meters per second. With a deafening cracking sound, it makes the bakery window burst beneath its pressure, sending shards of glass flickering in his direction; Nanami steadily puts his open book down and lets the fragments hit the leather cover instead of him. 

There’s a scream.

And then there’s chaos.

People running. Children crying. Cars stopping on the road. No one was hurt in the least - if anything, it was just that poor book he’d have to replace with a new cover. 

But he understands that this line of work meant he was more used to such things than civilians- perhaps more than he should be. And he was a Wanted man - not by the law but by those who think they’re above it. And so he’s calmly walking over to the counter as the rest of the customers inside the bakery evacuate. Placing a large wad of cash on its wooden plane, he’s just about to leave before he looks more suspicious—before turning right back around and plucking out something from the lavish sweet display - your favorite. And then one more loaf of milk bread for Itadori.

Plopping them down in a bag, he makes his way out. 

This morning, he’d told Itadori to meet him on the other side of Shibuya Crossing- he steps onto the zebra-patterned road right now and can see the little boy waving frantically from the other side. A ball of sunshine energy and a coat of orange far too big for him, but it’s one that he’d grow into - or at least, that’s the excuse Nanami had made when it’d turned out that he’d picked the wrong size. Damn, he needs to fix that.

For the mission, of course. Nanami shakes his head back into rationality. 

Quickly crossing the road, the boy throws his arms around the blond man’s legs.

“Papa—!” He squeals, chubby hands grabbing at his three-piece suit. Itadori’s Spider-Man backpack jostles just a little as he jumps up and down, “What took you so long? It was so scawy waiting here…people are running about.”

“My apologies, Yuji.” Nanami responds, looking behind his small figure. “But I see you brought your friends along for moral support.”

Pink brows frown, “What’s mowal support?”

Behind him, the frames of Kugisaki Nobara and Fushiguro Megumi shuffle about - his (temporary) son’s best friends from school, and it was just as convenient that the black-haired boy was exactly their ticket into siphoning more information about the Zenin family - and Nanami nods at them graciously. “Thank you for walking my son here.”

“Hah, no problem.” Kugisaki crosses her arms smugly, “He was scared so of course we had to-”

“Was not—!”

Fushiguro, meanwhile, just squints at the sky. “There was a strange noise. It sounded like thunder.”

“There was, wasn’t there?” Nanami responds, looking around. The chaos had largely calmed down by now, and as police surrounded the bakery, little by little Shibuya seemed to be getting back to its usual sort of commotion—he looks down at the oblivious starry-eyed boy. “Perhaps that was your mother on her way, I always do say she fell from heaven.”

Itadori frowns, “That sounds like it would hurt.”

Fushiguro scoffs, “That sounds illogical.”

“What’s illogicwal mean?”

Kugisaki squeals, “That sounds romantic-”

“Ewwwww.”

“That’s right.” Nanami tilts his head up and looks in the direction between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. Where the shot had come from, he does not need to wonder why. “That is romantic, isn’t it?”

Again, right at you.

And from on top of that rooftop, the long-range rifle drops from your hands.

You hadn’t known that he’d be meeting the three kids afterwards. And perhaps if you’d had an inkling then…

No.

Even as you watched the miniscule shape of Nanami Kento - Agent 7:3 - throw Itadori over his shoulders and clasp both Fushiguro and Kugisaki’s hands as he carefully crossed the bustling road with them, heading in the direction of the sweets’ shop down the road (his second-favorite stop to spoil Itadori), you knew you had a job to do.

And you had to do it, even if it killed you in the process.

That evening, you’re home when he comes back.

“I’m home, darling.” Setting his heavy bags down, as usual. Letting Itadori in before gently clicking the door shut, as usual. Asking you how your day at ‘work’ was before wrapping you in a hug, as usual.

If he suspected you had anything to do with that stray gunshot at the bakery, then he’s made no indication since- you’d seen nothing on the news, either. And by now you’ve convinced yourself that the intensity of his gaze upon you on Shibuya Crossing was a mere fluke. A mere coincidence. Perhaps he was just looking at a strangely-shaped cloud above—

And then he produces the paper bag in his hands.

Looking inside, you gulp.

He’d memorized your order perfectly.

“I got the last one, can you believe it? It seems that the bakery will be undergoing some construction in the following weeks.” Nanami spoke as he shrugs off his coat, looking at you with a slight twinkle in his eyes. “It’s your luck, my love.”

“R-really…?” You didn’t know what to say. Merely holding the bag limply in your hands, as if it would detonate any second now. Just your luck, indeed…

Unsure where to even look- you’re staring after the pink-haired boy that’d rampaged inside, pretending he was Spider-Man. 

“Mhm.” Nanami mutters to himself as he walks inside. “I’ll have to learn to make it at home, however…”

.

.

.

Second attempt.

Perhaps you needed some collaborators, too.

It’d been a beautiful summer-drenched Friday when Nanami had suggested taking Itadori and his two best friends out to the aquarium. 

It was one of his few days off- which in and of itself was shocking. It seems that Nanami had been working himself to the bone recently, and the office had taken initiative to force the blond man into taking a holiday. You’d perked up in your love seat, a novel in your hands—but between the pages was a leaflet on poison concoctions that you’d been reading through. 

“The aquarium?” You’re smiling sweetly up at your handsome husband, running about a hundred different ways you could kill him there. “Why, that sounds wonderful, Kento. I’ll get Yuji from the garden-”

“You just get yourself ready, darling.” Nanami’s voice was deep and warm - it felt like the spread of heat after drinking hot cocoa, the way it starts from the pit of your stomach before eventually ebbing into every one of your fingertips. “I’ll worry about wrangling Yuji into the bath. Take your time.”

Oh—all the assassination plans you could concoct in that time! 

Attempting to keep the smile off of your face, you’re leaping up onto your feet and heading in the direction of your shared bedroom to get ready. Making just about one step- two- three…before halting in your tracks and swivelling right back around. Nanami’s keen ears catch onto the difference in the determined cadence of your footsteps and he looks back at you.

Questions ready on his tongue, “What’s wro-”

And for perhaps the first time, the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento is rendered speechless. 

Because you’re placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning him towards you with a single tug- pressing your lips against his svelte cheek. 

Nanami’s skin is warm against yours - and you know it only makes logical sense, but some part of you had perhaps wondered whether his body was just as cold as his professional demeanor. Despite being married you hadn’t quite…consummated the marriage yet—and he understood, he could wait. He didn’t need something if it wasn’t related to his mission, of course

And you’re trying to convince yourself that this is part of yours- to gain trust, you rationalize. 

The kiss lasts less than two seconds, and your heart thump-thump-thumps against your chest as you pull away. Refusing to meet his eyes, his raised brows, his speechlessness, you’re turning heel and speed-walking to the bedroom.

All for the mission.

All for the mission.

All for the mission.

Little did you know that someone else in the house was thinking the same thing.

Nanami stands there unsteadily for a few seconds before heading to the garden to gather Itadori. 

Before high noon, you were all ready and had picked up Kugisaki and Fushiguro to go to the aquarium - during which Nanami had been glad to snoop around the Zenin family home as he took the little boy off his guardian’s hands. 

The aquarium was an entire ecosystem itself.

The entire world was seeped in blue, and sunlight dazzled from above the largest attractions to create patterns of gold that looked almost unearthly. Parents tugged by children, teenagers tugged by parents; friends and couples that flitted from tank to colorful tank in a near-aqueous way. Laughs and excited gasps—melding in symphony with the honking of clown horns, with the occasional burst of a balloon. It seems that many families - and you use the term because there was none better - had the same idea as yours, and the smell of sticky, sweet strawberry ice cream hits your nose as soon as you enter the area for water exhibits.

Passing by the lively tanks, hand-in-hand with Itadori, your gaze catches on something that sparks an idea in your mind. “Yuji…” You’re dropping down to be eye-level with the pink-haired little boy, “Why don’t you and your friends go and check out the touch tank over there?”

“The touch tank?” He nervously looks over to the lowly-fenced exhibit surrounded by children and a few handlers. It was a well-managed tank, widespread with nooks and crannies and rock masses along the sides, a hand-washing station before it; squeals emerged occasionally where a participant happened to touch something particularly slimy. He kicks the ground, “Hmm.”

Kugisaki wraps her arms around one of his, “Oh- c’mon, idiot.”

“Hey-”

And then she leans in and whispers in something that wasn’t a whisper at all - but what would a six-year-old know about secrets? Adults knew far too much. “Your momma obviously wants to spend some romantic time with your papa, don’t you have common sense?”

You have to bite back a laugh- sure, you wanted to be alone with him. 

Though not for any reason they could conjure up.

He sputters, “I-I…” Looking over at Fushiguro for help.

Fushiguro, notably, doesn’t help.

Instead he walks over to an exhibit of sea urchins.

“I want momma and papa to be happy.” Itadori fiddles with his orange overcoat. And your heart clenches—when this is all over you don’t know how you’re going to explain this to him. But you’d be damned if you weren’t allowed to take him for yourself- wait.

You’re shaking your head.

You were thinking nonsense.

And you’re composing yourself just in time for Itadori to look up at Nanami and receive a gentle nod in reassurance - whatever he does, the older man would be content with.

Itadori lets himself be dragged away by the ginger-haired girl- only if that meant he could drag the human version of a disgruntled little sea urchin with him, too. And as the kids have their fun, you’re promising that the two of you won’t be too far away and to definitely call one of you if they need you—before you’re wrapping both arms around one of Nanami’s.

Hugging him to you, you peer into his gold-flecked eyes softly. “I’d really like to see the blue-ringed octopus exhibit, Kento.”

He slightly coughs out his answer, “A-and so we shall, my love.”

And so here was the plan: the venomous creatures were the least-visited. So you’d drag the spy away where one couldn’t see, get him distracted by them, and knock him unconscious with the chloroform-soaked handkerchief you had carefully packaged in one pocket. Dagger in your other pocket. Then you’d finish the job, of course.

Then, outside, was a Discretion Team from the Garden that would discard the evidence, and let you take the kids back home- perhaps even concoct some excuse about ‘a work thing’ coming up at the hospital and causing him to leave.

It was perfect.

It was perfect.

 Next to the squid exhibition and the camouflage section, Nanami Kento was completely and utterly entranced by the octopus exhibit. His face paints in a blue light as he watches the alien-like movements of the creatures, so much so that he doesn’t even notice you slipping behind him—digging through your pockets before plastering his face with the damp handkerchief. 

Nanami’s hand comes up to touch your wrist, though you’re unmoveable. 

He breathes the chloroform in deep.

And then he wavers.

You got him.

Your heart rate spikes, thinking it’s time- fuck, you’ve finally gotten him. Keeping one hand with the chloroform pressed up against him, you’re just about to reach for the dagger snuck into your pocket. He was on the verge of being completely knocked out.

But someone on the verge of being completely knocked out wouldn’t tighten his grip on your wrist, would he? 

Your heart runs cold. 

Preventing you from grabbing your weapon, you feel Nanami smile beneath the thin fabric. Before imitating a sneeze into the handkerchief- “A—choo! Thank you, my love. How did you know I was allergic to the smell of squid ink?”

“You-” And you’re tugging your hand - and the venomous handkerchief - away from him as though his skin burned. 

“Yes?”

But he keeps his fingers intertwined with yours even as you pull away, letting them dangle between you two when you’re stepping into his line of sight once more and assessing every inch of him. His eyes? Clear. His gait? Steady. His expression? Normal (handsome).

No signs of dizziness, fatigue, or the signs of your plan working in motion.

But the chloroform—

Eventually, he lets your hands fall limply to your sides, and you’re looking down at the fabric in shock. Nanami Kento was still standing- and he hums as he turns back to the blue-ringed octopuses; slithering underneath an arch of coral as they, too, went into hiding. 

He clasps his hands behind his back and speaks to no one in particular, “Odd, isn’t it? I’m immune to 562 poisons and over a thousand toxic substances, but it’s squid ink that makes my system flare up.” 

Your jaw drops. Silently, solemnly, you find yourself standing beside him. “You’re…immune…”

He merely nods, staring through the tank. Gaze on something far away.

“I bet that was difficult.” There was a Poisons Division in the Garden as well, and you’d heard of the sheer torture they had to go through to make themselves immune to such things: one could make the body a scab to all things toxic, but underneath that was still a wound. You yourself knew that all too well. Ultimately, you say. “Must have to do with your work as a psychiatrist.”

Nanami nods, “Must have.”

There’s a shriek then the pitter-patter of small footsteps. 

You’re so wound-up and taut that it makes you jump slightly closer to Nanami- and he’s readily steadying you against his side. Arms on your shoulders.

“See, I told you they were being all romantic—!”

Nanami holds back a chuckle, “We should get going.” And unbeknownst to you, his eyes follow…follow…follow a man with dark hair streaked with grey, one that could only ever belong to the Zenin family. Zenin Naobito was lurking in the corners of the aquarium, the most unassuming place for one to conduct secret meetings with contractors that pretended they weren’t here for the same reason.

Because why else would Nanami go on a family outing, right?

Right? 

.

.

.

Third (and final) attempt.

“—and don’t forget your second change of clothes.” The only thing preventing Itadori from darting out of the house and into any oncoming cars was your single hand hooked around the handle of his Spider-Man backpack.

The only thing keeping him in one place.

Somewhat.

With the other, you’re attempting to shove down the spare t-shirt and shorts you’d picked out for him. Knowing your son, there wasn’t any sort of trouble, puddle, or cake batter that he wouldn’t somehow find and get into. And you don’t know what sort of house the Zenins ran, but you were determined to be on their good side.

And so you’re huffing and puffing, beads of sweat forming at your forehead, as you attempt to push it down the humble space- honestly, you didn’t understand why they didn’t just make these things a bit bigger. Just the slightest bit.

At this rate, he’s never going to…

“Itadori Yuji.” Your voice comes out deadpan, and the pink-haired boy turns to you with wide, innocent eyes.

Sweetly, “Yes, momma?”

“Why have you packed your entire Hot Wheels collection for a sleepover?”

Whatever he spouts about wanting to show Fushiguro and Kugisaki, whatever explanations he’s giving about moral support (honestly, where did he even learn such a thing?), goes in one ear and out the other.

Because yes—Fushiguro had invited Itadori and Kugisaki over for a sleepover at their home. It was convenient given that the two boys were practically next-door neighbors, and after the success of their aquarium visit you were hesitant to part the trio. Thus, it seems that Fushiguro had all but thrown a tantrum and attempted to run away from home in order to convince his guardian to agree to a sleepover. Which was sweet, of course.

But this was Itadori’s first, and any mother would be nervous about that sort of thing- wait.

But you weren’t a mother…technically. This was all a ruse for your mission, and so you’re shaking your head and pushing the bundled-up clothes deeper into his backpack, perhaps in order to drive that point home.

You’re interrupted by a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Let me take over, my love.”

You’re shifting aside to let Nanami handle the little issue swiftly—with a firm hand - thick fingers, prominent veins, that wedding ring on his left hand - he tugs Itadori back inside the house. “Now now, sunshine. What have we said about taking our toys out of the house?”

He tilts his head up n’ juts his little bottom lip out, “To take only one.”

Nanami lifts the bag just slightly to the side and takes a glance, “And does this look like only one?”

“No…” Itadori sighs.

Soon, you’re finding just about half the Hot Wheels production line laid out, side-by-side and color-coordinated, on the threshold to your home. It looked like a miniature parking lot of which Itadori grumbled as he pushed the clothes into the newly-presented space inside the bag and zipped it shut. Pouting.

Nanami chuckles gently, crouching down so that he was eye-level with the boy. ”You know momma and papa love you, right, sunshine?”

“I know…”

“And you understand why it would be difficult to take all the cars?”

Itadori takes a second to think, before giving you both a determined nod. “I do.” And you’re feeling something within you soar- but you’re forgoing wondering just what it means to feel so proud for the boy. 

“Good.” Your blond husband stands with heave, taking one of Itadori’s arms and turning around to look at you. “Say bye-bye to momma, Yuji.”

He turns with a beaming smile and a chubby arm raised in goodbye. “Bye-bye, momma.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, my love.” Nanami leans in and—presses a sweet, sweet peck to your cheek. Heat seems to sear from where his lips touched, spreading across your chest and all the way down to your toes. You feel your heat batter against your ribcage- fuck.

Was this what he’d felt the other day?

Two seconds; it’s as far as your intimacy as a married couple goes. And in that time Itadori brings his hands up to cover his eyes with a giggled, “Ewwwww—!” 

With an amused shake of his head, the father-son duo set off. Since the Zenin household was in the same neighborhood, about a street away, it was only about a five-minute walk to get there. 

Which is why you had to act fast.

Nanami Kento would be home in less than ten minutes - he wouldn’t have Itadori to slow down his long strides on the way back. And you’re standing there with the front door ajar as they leave, waving…waving…waving-

The very moment their backs disappear, you’re slamming the door shut and racing to the kitchen.

There, you’re reaching up to the very topmost cabinet: grabbing the new liquorice-flavored cereal you knew that no one in the house would touch. Of course, you’d emptied out the cereal this very morning.

And all that remained in the cardboard box inside was a slim vial you’d bought from the apothecary. 

It wasn’t exactly what one would consider menacing, but it was exactly what you needed for your Hail Mary attempt at completing your mission. It was made of a crystal-clear glass, fashioned into a reticello design, with a label containing some information and a stopper of gold that made the contents within seem far more elegant than they were in reality.

Dark brown powder that looked like ground up dirt.

An unassuming little substance you’d rippled with excitement over at the apothecary’s. So much so that you’d damn-near didn’t hear half the things she said- but it’s fine. You were an assassin, right?

And what was an assassin that didn’t know how to use the most powerful poison in the nation? 

Material XXX.

You’ve never seen it with your own two eyes. Nanami might have been immune to chloroform, but there was no living person on Earth that could resist this. 

Oh—it was beautiful…And it mixed so perfectly with the ground-up coffee you were adding to your coffee maker. One steaming hot cup of coffee had already been made and upon the kitchen counter beside you, it let out hot swirls of heat as you tampered with the other one. Sweetly fragrant. 

You smile- he’ll be dead in one sip. And, sure, you might have some explaining to do to Itadori - but doesn’t all good coffee spark conversation?

You’re still running through the list of excuses in your mind once the brewing comes to a stop.

And just in time, the front door clicks! open.

“He was so excited he tripped five times.” Nanami’s deep sigh echoes into the kitchen. You hear the shuffling sounds of him taking his shoes off, shrugging his coat onto the rack, stepping inside. “Though the other two were just the same- could you please make us some coffee, darling, while I get started on dinner?”

“You’ll ruin your dinner, Kento.” You call out to him, “And I already have.”

His handsome head pops out from the door, golden strands slightly tousled from the walk. Nanami breathes in the unmistakable scent of coffee piercing the kitchen air, and smiles. “You’re the best.”

“In many ways.” Leaning back against the counter, you’re handing his freshly-made cup - poured into a large mug that said #1 Papa - to him. 

Nanami’s large hands pluck it from yours and he whispers, “Thank you.” Looking down at the scalding concoction that still swirled within, “I really mean it, you know.”

“What?” You’re looking up at him in surprise.

“You’re the best.”

Your fingers grow tighter around your own mug: World’s Best Momma.

“Drink your coffee before it gets cold, Kento.”

He hums through a smile, before blowing on the similarly-fragrant steam. It smelled of jasmine and spring and something like love; but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? It’s almost a tease—watching Nanami swirl the coffee around a bit, watching him affirm his grip, watching him leeeean his stern lips in before-

“Aren’t you going to drink up, my love?” You almost startle - Nanami was staring at you through his blond tresses, brows furrowed in slight concern. “Are you alright? You look a little…tense.”

“I-I’m perfectly alright—” You hasten to explain- if Nanami got suspicious now and refused to drink his coffee, then there was no way you’re completing this mission. Without wasting anymore time, you’re bringing your coffee up to your own lips - though you don’t take a sip just yet. “Just thinking about work, you know how it is…”

He nods. “We’ve both been really busy lately, haven’t we? I apologize if I’ve made you feel a little lonely these days-”

“Not at all-”

“But still.” Nanami was determined. Those molten brown eyes of his seemed to be pinning you down to the tiled kitchen floor, and the heat of your body contrasted with its frigidness. “I apologize. Tonight, let’s just take some time for the two of us—we can watch a show, we can do some puzzles, tell me about your favorite book and we can read it together.”

You’re refusing to meet his eyes- you can’t. “That…that would be lovely.”

“To us.” Your husband - the spy, you have to remind yourself - outreaches his arm and clinks! your two mugs together in a toast.

“To us.” You weakly whisper. 

And then you take a sip and watch him do the same.

Immediately, you know something’s wrong.

From the slightly sour- slightly sweet- taste coating your tongue—to the way that Nanami takes a long, deep swig and sighs out in satisfaction. He doesn’t drop dead. He doesn’t grab his throat in agony. He doesn’t even stagger where he’s standing as he loses consciousness- 

Nanami sets his coffee mug down and grins.

“Poison working for you, darling?” And your own drops from your hand and shatters. “Oh dear, let me take care of that-”

“Stop.”

In the middle of reaching for the sweeping pan, Nanami halts and looks at you with slightly unfocused, glazed eyes. Heat rising to his cheeks. Breaths coming out in murked pants. Ones that you were sure mirrored your own. 

You felt as if you had a fever five times over and someone had still set you on fire—

Your temperature was soaring through the roof and searing through your skin, making your clothes feel clammy and clinging onto your form. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your temple. But even more than that was the way that- fuck, it was the heat between your damn legs. It was aching. Something deep and primal—something clawing at you from your insides and making you shudder as you lock eyes with Nanami once again.

Before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist to help steady you. And nothing more- did you want something more?!

You’re boring into his eyes and finding out that he wasn’t any better. Not in the least.

In fact, he’d drunk more of the potioned coffee than you.

Your wettened lips part and out comes the only thing you know how to say right now, “Kento.”

He jolts at the sound of his first name wrapped around your tongue. So sexual.

And his own words come out a gravelly croon, “Didn’t read the label, assassin?” That smile of his looked almost feral in the light you were looking at him right now. “Because I did.”

He attempts to pull away to show the label to you- the vial of powder he’d found. 

The plans he’d ruined.

The secrets he’d discovered.

The temperature in the kitchen was near-sizzling.

But the only thing you can think to do is claw your hands outwards and clutch his white shirt with an unfounded ferocity. One of his buttons pop! off and end up on the kitchen floor.

Chuckling, he gives up letting you see the label for yourself. If you won’t let him go, then…without a single warning, Nanami’s leaning in so that his pretty lips graze your ear. The front of his toned chest pushes up against you- and perhaps the only thing that helps you focus is the rapid, ravenous ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! of his heart. Pummeling. “Because if you did, then perhaps you’d have seen that Material XXX isn’t supposed to come into contact with caffeine, my love…”

You gasp, hands twisting even deeper into his button-up.

“Because then, it doesn’t become a poison at all.” The long line of his nose glides down your throat, sending shivers skittering across wherever he was in contact with. He stops against a spot you knew was sensitive and softly blooooooows—cold air against hot skin. 

You shiver.

And he merely continues in a rasp, “Because then, it becomes a substance that draws out your deepest desires. Amplifying pre-existing needs that the host contains, those that might be hidden due to…other reasons. So consider it an experiment of sorts. Can you recognize what this concoction is for you, darling?”

“A-an aphrodisiac.” Your eyes threaten to flutter shut- the mere breeze of his breath makes your thighs clench. 

He nods. “An aphrodisiac.”

“How long have you known?” More honest than ever; the question blurts out of your lips.

Nanami takes the time to think, “Since the sniping in Shibuya is when I knew.” With lewd, lethargic eyes he looks you up and down- up and down…“But to be honest, I’ve always suspected.”

You growl—“So then you know I’m here to kill you-” 

“So try me.”

You lunge.

.

.

.

And perhaps that was how he got here.

Nanami feels the very pointed tip of your heel graze his bulging erection- and he bucks. Not enough to finally free himself, but enough that it makes the chair cricket—and you’re looking down at him through your lashes.

He’s forced to stop his head from throwing backwards, bearing his sensitive throat. Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was the fact that he’s wanted you for so fucking long now- but he feels zaps of white-hot pleasure course through his body.

All the way from the in-betweens of his meaty thighs, riveting like snakes into every one of his limbs. Eventually up to his poor brain.

Slow and steady; you’re watching the fabric of Nanami’s trousers darken. Seeping and spreading the more he tried to press his legs together to hide it.

And once you’re roverin’ your foot over his cock- he moans. 

Grin spreading, the further you step down on him, the louder those squelches from his puddle of cum were. “Awww, already, Kento? They didn’t have that in your file.”

Somehow through it all, he manages out such a ravenously handsome grin. Blond hairs disarrayed. Tie askew. Shirt unbuttoned down until you could see golden hairs peeking out. “Th-they probably didn’t have a lot of things.”

“True.” You respond, stepping down harder and he gasps- “But remember who’s in charge now.”

Nanami looks at you through unfocused, half-lidded eyes. “Always was you, darling.”

“Flatterer.” Harder. 

“Fuh-fuuuuck…” He spits. Head dropping forwards, a thin line of drivel escapes from his parted mouth and adds onto the mess below. You’re watching it glisten underneath the dim lighting of the bedroom - one you’d somehow manage to drag the blond spy into. “Do that again and I’m going to cream my pants once more, my love.”

Your jaw slightly drops at the matter-of-fact way he was phrasing it. The Nanami Kento you’d been married to never uttered a word like this- “Well…”

“Is that what you’d like?” And, suddenly, his eyes are sharper than before. You had your leg raised so that you could step on his most sensitive bits, but you failed to realize that also meant he had access to your own…to rub his cheek against your inner thigh like a cat yearning for the cream. “Is that what you want your husband to do in repentance?”

“W-we’re not even really married-” Taken aback. Heat flaring where his pants fanned you- your dagger trembles where you held it against his throat. Close enough to cut.

And yet he was still craning his face - his mouth - as near as he could get to your cunt. Mouth watering. A crimson bead where your blade was rested-

“But we could be.” And you’re lost for words. Nanami just looked so pathetic beneath you in ways you never could’ve even imagined: eyes blown wide and dazed, mouth permanently unhinged as he inched towards your soaked underwear, breaths getting more n’ more labored the longer you kept pinning his clothed cock down with your heel. 

He had his hands cuffed behind him and was aching to get between those legs - and you’re unsure whether you should blame just the aphrodisiac. Desperation seeps into his words, “But we could consummate this marriage.”

Your lips part.

He doesn’t waste a second.

“Seven times over just to make up for the time we’ve lost.” And then he’s tipping his head back and bearing you with a grin, “Fuck my cock raw, my wife.”

And how could you ever say no to that?

You don’t—instead, what you’re doing is taking advantage of the needy way his jaw was unhinged in a soundless prayer. One that you’re answering with a direct spit- lips pursed, you’re letting a glittering glob of saliva paste against his lips.

Purposefully missing the precise target, the lewd translucent liquid splatters against the side of his lips before ultimately trickling inwards. And you’re watching with your jaw dropped as his Adam’s apple bobs- as he swallows.

Perhaps that was the last straw.

The tip of your glinting blade draws a perfect line down Nanami’s middle - just enough pressure to scrape a harmless line of white down his exposed skin. And then you’re slashing those ropes that bound him to the chair. 

Metal restraints, you watch him semi-free himself.

And you’re turning around and walking to the bed.

Sitting at the very edge.

Resting your palms behind you.

Your legs spread-spread-spreeeeeead wide enough that he gets a view good enough to make his slightly-teary eyes bulge. Lips parting. Cock twitching. You’re tilting your head casually to the side and beckoning him—“If you want it, come and get it, Nanami Kento.”

Handcuffed and hands behind his back, the famous agent has no other choice than to get on his knees and crawl over to you.

Fucking crawling.

The carpet chafes beneath his knees, the sound echoes as he inches and inches- torturously slow. Body bowed. Chest heaving. 

Whilst you don’t move a single degree.

It might have been hours- it might have been fucking eons that are passing by before Nanami reaches the foot of the bed; burning up far more from the fever of wanting you than any aphrodisiac in existence. He honed senses raise into the air - and he’s getting a whiff of that honeyed fragrance from your pussy. Almost singing to him, surely it wasn’t just because of that powder that he thinks it’s the most delicious-smelling thing on Earth.

His stomach nearly growls. 

And then Nanami’s between your parted legs and famished. 

All good spies deserve a treat, right?

Before you know it, Nanami’s leaned in and having his lips glued to your clothed cunt. Fucking glued. They were puckered and pert—both pairs of lips, and the vibrations of his moan make your back arch as he tastes you for the very first time.

Just the most innocent kiss. 

The first time that he’s getting everything he’s fucking dreamed of.

Because whenever you left the house dressed so prettily, whenever you hummed at the taste of your favorite baked good, whenever you bent over to pick up something- you didn’t know it, but…Nanami stared.

Oh, how he stared n’ licked his hungry lips. 

Wondering just how sweet your pretty, pretty cunt would taste - just how fucking sooooft and tender your pussylips would feel once he’s finally giving them that nice French kiss they deserved. All up on his tongue.

Despite being such a gentleman to everyone around him—who’d have guessed that Nanami Kento would have the dirtiest thoughts of them all? That whenever he gazed upon you with that ‘ruse’ of affection, he was actually hiding something far…far darker. 

The dirtiest thoughts that he was acting upon right now. 

With his honed tastebuds swipin’ down your wet slit, Nanami counts every bead of slick that you’re leaking through your panties. Sugary sweet. He’s boring his smoldering gaze into yours as he—with a slurp! lets those pearly translucent droplets collect on the tip of his tongue, and then glide, glide, gliiiiiide deep down to the back of his throat.

Blond lashes flickering his eyes shut at the flavorful taste, Nanami groans. 

“C-can I prove it now…?”

You almost don’t recognize his voice.

The tone of it sends fire shooting straight between your legs- and without thinking twice, you lean your weight on your hands and edge even closer. Whining, “Prove what, Kento?”

And he seems almost embarrassed to answer.

Almost shy now—

Though the heat of the aphrodisiac and the globules of slick stuck to his chin were making him more of an honest man by the second. “I need to prove that m’worthy of being your husband, pussy.”

Was he talking to you or…?

Fuck.

Sense coming back to him in bursts and stutters, Nanami shakes his head briefly- “I mean-” A blush rises to the tips of his ears, though his eyes remain as starved as ever—“I need to prove that m’worthy of being a good husband to both you and-” His biceps bulge as he struggles against the handscuffs briefly, pathetically and lovingly nuzzling the hot in-betweens of your folds. “-this girl right here.”

The way he says it…fuck.

He gives off the impression of a man that’s been starved for ages- for eons. There was something almost wolfish imprinted onto his expression, and the whites of his teeth feature an appearance between your legs as Nanami leans in; with knitted brows and a ragged emphasis, he’s asking - begging - once more. “Please-” Mahogany eyes just so earnest, “Marry me?”

Marry him?

Your jaw drops.

Was he so pussydrunk already that he’s genuinely proposing? 

Or was it just the aphrodisiac—you’re not waiting to find out.

Readily, Nanami only needs to feel a single shove of your glistenin’ wet pussy against his mouth - before he’s letting his eyes roll to the back of his skull. Farther and farther. Almost blindly, he uses his pointed chin to dig himself even deeper. And he couldn’t spread your pretty thighs apart with his arms, so he’s resorting to fitting his burly body - shoving your legs apart with his broad shoulders - until he gets closer to your core. Your dripping wet core,

Simply soaked.

Just a single strand of blond sticks to his forehead—usually-slicked hair coming out of its neat style now. And Nanami isn’t shy to sliiiide apart your drenched panties with his tongue, then start pressing kiss after open-mouthed kiss. 

Wide-mouthed. Gaping. 

Just the most teasing, faintish whispers of his tongue. Feverish in speed.

The sopping, smooth edge of his tastebuds lodge inside and slathers itself in all of your syrupy juices. Jaggedly probin’ in and out. “Is this how my wife wants it? Does this, mmm- feel good, my love?”

And you hadn’t even realized that your eyes were closed until you’re fluttering them open—looking through tear-filled lashes at the handsome man between your legs. “Y-yessss…deeper, Kento.”

His eyes suddenly clear in urgency.

Mind befogged with lust - but he’s alert enough to recognize your pretty pleas. And without a single second wasted, the slashes of his tongue scour even deeper inwards. With all his slick inches he’s tunneling into your pussy- and your toes curl at the sensation of him driving into spots unknown. “A-and?” He spits, “Is this good?”

He’s just so eager to please. “Nghhh, yes.” Blabbering out, “Just a bit more to the side now, honey.”

Obediently, he cocks his head and angles his kisses. The layers of his lips smush with your delicate pussy, until it was as if he’s stuck there by adhesive - you don’t think he’s pulling away enough to even breathe…and he wouldn’t mind forgoing his own comfort to make sure you’re feeling your best. “Is this good?” The big, bad spy that has all of Tokyo’s underbelly trembling pleads.

“Yes-”

“And what else?”

“Wh-what…?” Stare widening in surprise. 

That cute expression of yours - the way your cunt seems to splash! another wad of your slick onto his ready tastebuds - makes him rattle at his chains. As though to break through. As though to ravish you whole. 

But the only thing he’s succeeding in doing is letting gravity stoop his face even lower onto your pulsating pussy. Every throb was just so delicous—and Nanami swears he’s feeling his own heartbeat synchronize with the rapid cadence of it. “What else do you need from your husband? Do you need more tongue?” 

Just then, you’re feeling the ridged texture of his tastebuds start drilling even deeper. That cutely pink tip of his tongue starts bludgeoning inside as though reaching for your very cervix.

And he’s hatching out something- something almost delirious. “Do you need it sloppier? Because I can- mmm, do sloppier.” The cacophonous noise from beneath your swollen folds starts growing in both pitch and volume as he increases his speed, thick, ribbony strings of slick coating the edges of his mouth - “I can make it faster. Slower. Sexier.”

You’re straining your hamstrings to push off the springy mattress, “P-please—”

“I can eat you out like a husband should.” 

Munch-munching away at everything your pussy had to offer. Everything and anything.

He’s jostling his body so painfully close to yours- skin against skin. Lips against lips. Without the gesticulation of his hands to balance himself, it was rare that he’d find a moment to push up and part from your pussy - and whenever he did, it just meant he wasn’t doing his job well enough.

Nanami chases after even the slightest movements of your restless hips. And there’s a slight crack emanating from his metal handcuffs when the straight top of his nose taps your throbbing clit. 

“Tell me, my wife—tell me what you want.”

It feels like you’re being struck by shards of lighting itself, “J-just like that, Kento-”

“Just like that? Or even more- hah.” He pants out in a raspy wheeze. Nanami’s voice was low- lower than you can ever recall it being. “Don’t hafta lie to me, darling. Your husband can give you aaaaanything and everything.”

A shallow moan cracks at the back of your throat by the way he’s emphasizing his words- notably by reeling his thick tongue out and drag-drag-draaaagging it all across the forefront of your cunt. “Th-then…ngh, I want whatever it is that you want, Kento.”

His golden brows shoot up to his hairline, “What’s- hck! that, my love?”

And in a split-second - perhaps it’s your assassin side coming out, perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s dialing every emotion up to the max - you’re grabbing a searing hold of Nanami’s pale tresses. A proper fistful that lets you jerk the strong man off of your cunt and gazing his glistening peripherals up at you.

He’s drawing his mouth away with a wet plop! The jutted-out edge of his lower lip trembles at the thought of not being in contact with your tasty cunt, and you have to tap the side of Nanami’s face to  get him to fully focus his attention on you.

It takes a little while for his lava-like eyes to peer up at you. “Y-yes, my wife…?”

Chuckling just a bit at the way he’s lost his train of thought - perhaps every thought he’s ever conjured up once he’s tasting your cunt. “What do you want, Kento? Tell me what you’d like…tha’s gonna please me the most.”

“But I beg to-”

“I know you want it.” And he didn’t forget about those ruthless heels of yours, did he? The broad frame of Nanami Kento shudders at the pointed sensation of your heels gliding up his open thighs. Trouser-covered and cum-drenched, you’re feeling for the bumpy area where his fat cock throbbed- and crushing down on it with the flats of your shoe. “This thing doesn’t lie to me, honey. Just tell me what the little spy wants.”

“I…fuck, this is embarrasing- this is so ungentlemanly-” But that was a ship long sailed. And he finds himself drooping even further into the heavenly in-betweens of your legs.

And you’re witnessing the veins on his beefy forearms pop out, the skin of his forehead perspiring- and it almost feels to you as if the blond man was holding himself back at this very moment. A shiver runs through you as you wonder just what him giving his all would mean for you…

And his swollen mouth cracks open, “Please…” And it’s not you that’s starting to beg…it’s Nanami himself. Deep and guttural wrenched out from his voicebox, he sends rumbles across your body like thunder. “Please push me even d-deeper into your cunt.” Nuzzlin’ your clit with his nose, he murmurs. “Push me so far deep- ride my tongue- use me until my mouth’s raw and I can’t even breathe.”

And you know you’re the one that asked him…but you can’t help but let your jaw hang speechlessly.

“I need you to make you c-cum on my tongue five times before I can call myself your husband.”

The answer takes some time to choke out, and when it finally does you’re feeling embarrassed at the slightly pitchy tone it takes. “Then do it.” With his sweaty strands plastered to your palm, and your heel being used to steady yourself—and push down on his convulsing cock. You give him no warning before pushing him down deeper. 

He sputters-

“I’m going to ride your face now, Kento.” And you’re shocked by your ability to keep your words from slurrin’ together now. “Do it- do everything it is that you want to do. But no pulling back to breathe. No cumming until I do.”

And he’s peering up at you with the most loving half-lidded eyes, “Yes, my wife.”

That man was a goner for his wife—you. 

“Hngh—mmm- K-Kento!” It’s just about the only thing your spit-drivelled lips can echo right now. The sound travels across the room before bouncin’ into Nanami’s eardrums, and he swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard. Because in a sultry split-second, he’s loosening his body up and letting you pin his face between your legs.

Then veering your hips upwards and upwards.

Frenzied, squelching movements of your hips. Your body was just crashing into his in the most sinful collision, and it was making the skin of his high cheekbones start to redden and sting- Nanami barely has the time to part his lips and take in an inhale—

Before your sopping pussylips are plastering to his mouth once more. And he’s lappin’ his tongue away wilding onto every inch he could reach - all around the hidden crevices of your cunt, before entering through your tight hole.

Nanami’s muscle was just so thick that he made you keen with the intrusion of his tastebuds. Feeling up the hugging walls of your channel, before you’re swearing he’s reaching for that one spot that made your eyes roll.

“Shit-” You’re babbling out, hands shaking where you held him down. “Sh-shiiiiiit, just like that. Does that feel good for you too, baby?”

He’s feeling the flaps of his lips start to swell and his lungs ache for breath- “Yes.” He’s never answered anything truer in his life - and it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac, though it did only seem to be getting stronger by the second. “Fuck—yes, and d-don’t keep doing that with your heel or m’gonna cum.”

“What?” You ask innocently - fully knowing the ministrations you were carrying out beneath your line of sight and his. Your heel was flattened over his massive bulge and smoothing up and down, up and down, up and down—practically jerking Nanami off though more with the pressure you were pitting against him.

The nib of your heel grazes his mushroomy tip and he bucks- “M’gonna cum, my love…”

Almost in agony. 

You smile as you reply, “Me too.” Before leaning down just the slightest inch in proximity of him - as though sharing a secret between just the two of you in this world. “But that’s only one of five.”

He grunts.

Fuck- he didn’t want to disappoint his beautiful wife. He can’t. He couldn’t.

And as though crazed, Nanami’s flickering the inches of his tongue through and through that dripping entrance of yours. In and out. Stirrin’ around his lengthy muscle in juuuust the way he knew would hit those pretty orifices that made you cry out so loud, Nanami’s focusing on your g-spot for a few seconds at a time to make sure you’re experiencing as much pleasure as possible with every thrust.

Through it all, his nose remains pressed up against your throbbing clit. “One down, four to go.”

“What do you…” Your toes curl then—because Nanami had predicted it before you had. With a sudden flash behind your eyes, you’re crashing into one wave of pleasure after the other - starting up from the pleasure-riddled area between your legs and climbing up into every cranny of your body afterwards.

Your arms go limp. Your back arches perfectly.

“Sh-shiiiiiit- that feels so good.” Your head tilts backwards as the sudden euphoria overtakes you, and your heartbeat only seems to accelerate by twofold after you take a look down at Nanami himself.

His eyes were rolling to the depths of his skull, until only the whites of them were visible. His mouth was agape and his body was almost moving on autopilot—pure carnal instinct simply lappin’ and lappin’ away at your cunt - sending sparks roaring through your body every time his dexterous nose struck your clit. His cock was twitching away furiously beneath your long heels.

And you’re quite sure that Nanami himself was on the verge of an orgasm- “Don’t cum.” You’re pressing down on his cock.

He jolts ever-so-slightly - though his movements don’t falter for a single second. And he was slightly muffled from his…position, though you do manage to make out a scoff. “Who did you think I was?” Nanami responds in a gravelly tone, “M’your husband, darling. And a husband is always supposed to keep his vows.”

You don’t mention that you technically didn’t have a ceremony with vows and everything.

Because in the next mere moments, Nanami has his tongue thrusted back inside and his chin glued to the bottom of your wet slit. No matter how much you’re bucking and moaning, he’s determined to accomplish that little wish you—he had had.

And with the textured swabs of his tongue, he’s pulling out one more orgasm. Two more. Three more-

You think you’ve lost count by the time you’re all sprawled out and spent on the bed. Throwing your head back, letting your heels hook onto his shoulders and tug him even closer - you’re all but begging for mercy as dopamine leaves stars bursting behind your eyelids. 

Your cunt was just so heated and raw at this point - though the aphrodisiac kept your slippery slick coming until it was drenchin’ Nanami all the way down to his collarbones.

His invisible dusting of blond on top of his upper lip glistens with the sap that clings onto it, and Nanami peers up at you with hollow, drunken eyes finally. “How many was that, my love?”

Would he believe it if you said you didn’t fucking know—

Apparently you didn’t have to remain wondering, because those words are leaving your lips mindlessly. They take a few seconds to penetrate Nanami’s own foggy mind- but with something akin to a crooked grin, he raises his head. “S’that so?” 

You’re shivering once he pulls his tongue out and presses a loud peck on top of your cunt.

“My poor, poor wife—did your husband go too hard?” And you’re not sure what’s in his intense gaze that makes you gesture out a single nod - an embarrassing nod. But you’re doing so anyway, and you hiss when he presses a final kiss and raises himself up onto his haunches. “But I have kept my end of the deal, darling. Didn’t your husband make you proud?”

“Y-yes—” 

“Didn’t your husband make you cum?”

“Yes-”

“Not five times, yet.” And through sheer will and the use of his incredible core strength, the trained spy stands up without breaking a sweat. “There’s one more to go…”

“Oh- let me.” Using whatever strength hasn’t been wrung out of you from the marathon of your highs - barely worrying about your refractory period - you’re surging upwards and reaching behind him. Those handcuffs you’d put him in were professional-grade and used on the job sometimes, nothing like the kinky toys that one might normally prefer.

Though this wasn’t initially supposed to be play at all.

And perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s clouding your judgement- you know you can’t keep blaming it any longer when…But you’re soon looking around the room for the key that you’d dropped.

You think you had a spare in the bedside cabinet but you couldn’t be too sure- but then again, the original must have fallen somewhere on the carpet during the height of your nervous excitement—

“Looking for the key, mm?” Nanami’s deep croon jolts you out of your single-minded mission. And you somewhat jolt as you look up at his impressive height; his handsome face. 

Your cunt had pooled slick right down to his clothes- the collar of it noticeably darker than the rest of the fabric, with his buttons shining as though polished a thousand times over. And his trousers were just as ruined.

Blond hair completely unruly now. Pupils blown-out through his glasses.

His lips were all reddened n’ puffy with the prolonged contact with the sweetest dessert he’s ever tasted: you. And he’s wearing your slathered layers of slick like a medal of honor, glistening proudly across his mouth and jawline—evidence of his desperation. He husks, “No need to worry yourself, my sweet wife.” Just then, he’s straining his forearms to pull at the handcuffs with brute force - one vein on his forehead popping, skin flushing an even deeper red.

You don’t think he’s going to do it - no one’s ever escaped you when you used those.

But suddenly there’s a screech of metal and a clink! 

Before Nanami Kento’s rubbing at the slight bite of metal upon either of his wrists. His free wrists. His unrestrained wrists.

His unrestrained hunger as he then looms his chiselled body above yours- as you push yourself further and further up to the headboard, Nanami follows. He follows. He follows. He follows until your back hits the wooden panel connected to the wall, and those half-lidded eyes bore down upon you deliciously.

“Can we consummate our marriage now, my love?”

Your words could not be more sheerly needy- “Yes.”

And soon enough you’re helping Nanami out of his button-up, his vest, his trousers. Only his boxers stand in the way now and you’re just impatiently tugging them down—finding your jaw dropping at the sight of him.

Because Nanami was big as far as you’d felt.

But this was…what was that saying about it always being the quiet ones? Nanami’s length laid thick and throbbing between his milky legs; the tip of his shaft flushed an angry red, he’s leaking hot precum in lines down your inner thighs.

Dribbling out from the heavy volumes of his ballsack, and ending up coating his cherry tip in a cute white. 

In the saturated air, his cock twitches upwards a few times. Makin’ stray beads gliiiiide along the vein-covered length of his shaft- down and doooooown to soak into his burnt golden curls at the very base. The entire image was just so sexy that you can’t help but let out a moan—

And Nanami chuckles before he turns his tender lovin’ eyes towards you. “Don’t worry. You’re next, darling.”

Your clothes are shed at an even faster rate.

Soon enough, it’s just him sandwichin’ his bulbous tip between your folds. Too big to immediately slide into your cunt, too covered in so many wads of your slick - slippery with your own sap - that he occasionally eases inside and makes you yelp at the stretch. “It just feels so- fuck, I just know s’gonna feel so good.” Your hands claw down Nanami’s broad back, “I need you, Kento. Badly.”

“How badly?” He crouches over you, lips centimeters from yours. “I need to make sure you’re not jus’ talking out of your pussy, my wife.”

“I’m not—” You promise. “I need you- fuck, I need you.”

“Need me to what, however?” Nanami cocks his head and almost meanly asks- he never knew he could make you sputter so much. It was just so fun watching your pretty mouth fall slightly apart as you registered his teasing—it almost made him want to spit between your lips.

He does.

And Nanami continues shoving his expanding erection just between your thighs, “Do you need me to take this pretty pussy like it’s our wedding night? Do you need me to m-make love to this pretty pussy like we’ve been married for years? What is it…?”

You’re mouthing something that his popped eardrums don’t hear.

Leaning in, “What’s that, darling?”

And so you’re repeating - just a little louder than before. “I n-need you to fuck me like you’re trying to prove you’re my husband.”

Just like before.

And that seems to flip a switch in the stern, stoic Nanami Kento.

Just a little.

Because the next time you’re blinking your teary eyes open- it’s to see the harrowed furrow between his brows as Nanami reels his hips back n’ positions his largely flared tip between your legs. Right where he needs to be.

And then he push-pushes inside—

“Fuck-” He spits- strong hand darting out to grip the headboard. You hear it splinter—“Fuck.”

“Please…” Looking up, you’re letting out a soft gasp at the way the muscles on his arm bulge and make themselves clear next to you. The sheer strength. The sheer pressure. The sheer streeeetch between your legs that you’re being fed inch by solid inch.

It’s almost too much - so much more than you ever thought possible to take in one go. Your throat feels clogged with saliva and Nanami’s sheer size as his cockhead thoroughly pierces your channel.

Smearin’ your gluey walls to either side of him, he enters you slowly yet mercilessly. More and more. 

Your head falls back against the plush pillow directly beneath you-

“Now now- stay with me, darling.” Nanami’s strict sentence was less of a command and more of a sweet willing for you to open your eyes once more—to let him see those pretty, heart-shaped peripherals as he fucked you long and sweet. 

He was burrowed just about halfway in at this point and starting to thrust.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t completely drenched in your sweetest caverns yet, as long as your thighs were quivering with the utmost pleasure. 

And Nanami collapses his rock-hard, chiselled front on top of your body - almost crushing you under the weight of him. Though you admit that the pressure was one so pleasurable that it sends zaps of electricity shooting to your toes—oh, did you mention that he’d kept your heels on, still?

And right now he was hooking his right set of fingers underneath your thigh, pressing your capped knees all the way up to your tits. 

You’re mooooaning at the burning stretch of your hamstrings.

And he’s letting you ease into it for a few more moments before throwing both legs over each side of his shoulders. Wet with perspiration, you’re letting your heeled feet slide down his hard muscles before finally managing to loop them around your neck.

“This is a mating press- yeah.” He whispers, “D’you like this, my wife?”

Nodding fervently. 

Leaning down to lick off the salty-sweet tears that were streaming down your cheeks, “Good girl.” The nickname slips between Nanami’s pussydrunken mouth before he can stop himself. And when he feels the huggin’ entrance of your cunt grow even wetter at the sound of it…oh.

The tips of his digits damn-near tremble with excitement as the blond-haired man plucks a pillow from one of the many you were laying against. Fluffing it up. Promptly placing it underneath the base of your spine, just where that curve was supposed to start, and raising your hips just a little.

That change of angle made the thump-thump-thumping tip of his cock just slightly press against the roof of your cunt, and you whine. “Sh-shit…”

“D’you know what that’s for, my love?”

“Huh?” You respond hazily, and he gestures towards the pillow. Just so gone- on his cock, on the aphrodisiac, on the primal instincts on the verge of screaming at him to shove even deeper. “Um…”

Nanami leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “That’s alright. I’ll teach you later, my love. For now…”

For now, what was that you’d begged for earlier?

Ah…

For now, he was going to fuck you like a loving husband fucks his beloved, beloved wife.

And he was going to prove it to this pussy that he was your husband—is. There were no two ways of going about it- Nanami’s leaning his toned torso backwards and suddenly rammin’ into you with all his strength.

He doesn’t stop until he’s sure he can hear the damn thwack! of his mazin’ tip reaching for your deepest depths. The sensation of your cervix was just so smoooooth and spongy, and it takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that the notorious man had just bottomed out on your tight, tight pussy. 

You’re keening at the way your folds can do nothing but quiver n’ take and take. Gulping down those greedy inches that he was funneling over and over again into you—the scruff of his tawny happy trail scrapes your sensitive pussylips and you buck-

“And don’t think that you can run away.” He was amused.

For every millimeter that you were arching off of the mattress due to oversensitivity, Nanami was making up for it with yet another two rugged slams of his hips. He just loved that surprised expression upon your face when you found yourself being dragged right back, being manhandled, with a mere tug of his trained physique.

One hand on the right side of your waist.

One hand bracing his gluttonous base.

He furrows his brows and tightens his jaw as he haaaaauls you right back down- and soon enough, you’re finding that perhaps - perhaps - you’re shifting yourself away just to have him do it all over again.

And he indulges you, of course. Spearing between your glossed-up pussylips from tip to bottom end.

Fat inches that were making themselves at home.

Eventually, Nanami’s hungry gaze pins you down- first. Before the rest of his Herculean sculptured body chooses to rest further on top of you n’ glue your skin, your hips, to his own—preventing you from moving just a centimeter further than he wanted you to. Preventing you from shifting his determined cock around. He’s practically melding your bodies into one—he almost wishes he could.

Before Nanami had finally scoured ‘round your insides and located your g-spot. And he couldn’t have you moving around when his entire mission was to make you numb with pleasure, could he?

The heat between you two crackles in the air, and Nanami fucks you slow and shallow with his flared red tip. Rovering over that one spot-

“O-oh my god, oh my god, Kento—” Words slurring into one. Nearly indiscernible. 

And through your tears, you’re making out Nanami’s lips pursing into something gentle. “Shhhhh…” The breeze of his scorching pants waft over you, dialing your own body temperature up into something insatiable. Aphrodisiac or…no, just the two of you. “You’ve got this, my love- fuck, you’ve got this.”

“I…” Eyes scrunching shut. “N-never felt anything like this before, honey.”

“You can take it.”

“I am- I am-”

The way his thrusts were probin’ into you was just indescribable- though Nanami Kento might have been a gentleman to everyone that ever encountered him - and yes, you suppose that even included the targets for his missions - you were briefed and trained to see him as the complete opposite. 

Unlike most, you knew Nanami Kento as the agent…the danger…the target for your own mission.

But his cock was drilling into you over and over in sharp, rapid thrusts and you’re thinking that perhaps you hadn’t been so correct about him after all…

Calculated thrusts.

Nanami was making sure that you were wringing out the maximum amount of pleasure from each one of them. Not wasting time between smooching the door to your womb—thud-thud-thud. And between reeling his hips all the way back until your cunt was wet and gaping around where the circumference of his tip was the fattest. The neediest. Red-hot.

And then he’d be sliiiiiiding one of his most prominent veins down the middle along the most tender of your nerves. Kissing it.

Making white-hot bliss burst through your body as he’s managing to hit eeeevery single fucking orifice that made you swoon. Those large arms of his cage you safely, and Nanami already knows by now that you’re drunk on his hips. “Feels good, yeah?” He asks you-

And you almost have the heart to respond with something feisty—well, obviously. But the sincerity in his eyes makes you prattle out, “Feels s-soooo good. Didn’t even know that it could feel this good…”

He smiles proudly, “Yeah? Oh yeah—” Patting your sensitive clit with his abdomen, “And how’s the- haaaaaah, fuuuck, keep squeezing me like that- How’s the speed, my love?”

“P-perfect…” Cockdrunken. Bed creaking.

But Nanami merely nods and licks at the walloping amounts of saliva pouring from one end of your mouth and onto the silken covers of the pillows. “Mhmmmmm…and what else? How’s the angle?”

Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull. “The- angle—oh.” Just then, he’s adjusting his hips just the slightest few degrees so that his bludgeoning cock would hit a fresh new target tilted slightly upwards to the roof of your cut. And you’re practically yowling out, “That one- ngh, that’s the one.” Nails possessively claiming his back with countless scratches and indentations of your nails, “P-pleeeeease keep that one, Kento.”

“Like it that much, huh?” He hums to himself, “But of course, m’not gonna change it when s’my wife’s favorite.”

In a small thank-you, you’re craning your head up and attempting to kiss him. 

He meets your lips halfway, but don’t think that that’s the only thing his vicious hips could do.

“Now now, don’t tap out…” Nanami grunts n’ shudders to himself—he has to gnaw down on the plushness of his bottom lip to compose himself at least somewhat. “And how about the feeling of my balls- hah- feel how biiiiiig and heavy they are, just for you?”

Struck and feeling his cadence accelerating, you can only nod and nod.

“Feel how rock-hard I am for you?”

Nodding.

“Feel the way I- fuck, the way m’only getting harder?”

Nodding.

“Feel the way your g-spot just throbs whenever I’m near?” His crowned and hungry tip pauses just to prove his point, and you’re dragging your nails down his biceps with a disappointed whine. A call to continue if there was any.

To which he does.

Harder than before- pap-pap-papping—! the front of his hips against yours.

“And feel the way m’pumping out so much- fuck- precum?” Just then - as if on fucking cue - you’re feeling a wet draaaaag of his pre being pushed deeper inside you. Pooling on layers on top of your cervix n’ swirling around every time you’re being moved, “Shit, m’gonna make a mess again. See what you do to me?”

“I do-”

Nanami scoffs, “You know I’d do anything to make you feel good, my love.” Boring those golden eyes into yours- yes, they looked damn golden in this lighting and in the hazy state of your mind. “Anything-”

One of his thick hands scrape down your front- they were the hands of someone that’s trained and worked and fought to get to where he is today. And you’re shivering at the slight callouses that massage you—

Your husband continues, “Never think that you’re- hah, any less loveable- desirable, because of anyone or anything before.” And despite the fact that you two were connected on levels, physical ones, that were the farthest they could go…it still feels the most intimate once he rests his clammy forehead onto yours and whispers. “Because I’m here- fuck.”

Toes curling atop his shoulders - doesn’t matter how much you’re thrashing them out of sheer pleasure at the stretch, he’s taking every bruise head-on. “Yes, yes, yes—mmm, yes…fuck, it shouldn’t feel this good- ngh, legally it shouldn’t feel this good.”

“When have we ever cared about the legal labels?”

Those pearly whites of his gnaw down on your lips n’ drag you into a kiss. 

He utters, “Because your Kento’s here.”

Whimpering up at him when all the constant kissin’ at your g-spot almost gets too much to bear. So overstimulated. “A-and why do you say that, Kento?”

He could coo at the cute way you’re asking that question.

With your legs shakily squeezing around his neck, with your lips trembling and threatening to escape a sob. The way your cunt swallowed him up and dragged him to the very depths of your cunt was almost dizzying for him to feel—and he knows his balls were thwacking so hot and headily against the forefront of your cunt. He knows he’s close.

He knows the patterns of his zig-zagging veins were outlining themselves upon either side of your walls- he could feel it.

He knows that these were the pearly gates of heaven themselves. Opened right with your legs.

And Nanami has to force himself to not fucking throw his head back with a thunderous groan—more to hear your sweet, sweet noises than anything. And instead, he nuzzles his sweaty face into the crook of your neck and lets out looooow, trundling whispers. “You’re s-seriously asking me that, my love? Don’t mock me-”

“I’m not-”

“Because the answer should be obvious.” And this is the first and only time that the Nanami Kento would interrupt you on any matter. “S’because I’m fucking made for you, aren’t I?”

And with that being said, it seems his cadence is only growing faster. Harder. Hittin’ your lower half at what, to you, almost feels like the speed of light - his blushin’ tip only grows bigger and concrete-hard as he keeps jutting into the crevices of your cervix.

Running the lines of his veiny shaft down your channel all the while—

Soon enough: your pulsing clit finds home between Nanami’s thumb and index finger. 

On his left hand.

Which meant the stark frigidness of his wedding ring was making your body thrust itself into the throes of pleasure - not quite cumming, though considering just how overstimulated you were, you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up shattering all over him without any warning. Instead, you’re finding your mouth babbling away whatever stupid concoction of words was entering your mind- “A-and how can you say that-”

“That’s because I’m your husband.” He kisses your forehead softly once more, “Forget all those other boys and whoever that came- hah, before me, darling. They’ve never yearned—ached, prayed for this pussy like I have…”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles up at your throat, “Y-yearned—? K-Kento, you can’t be serious.”

His dazed eyes widen, mouth stupidly agape. “Dead fucking serious.”

What’s the word to describe him…enamored? In…love? Pussy-whipped? But in all the best ways.

And he himself didn’t sound like he could compute the words that were falling from his mouth. Escaping, more like. He tut-tuts, “My wife…I fear I don’t even- haaaah, know who I am without this pussy. She’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few days. She’s all I’ve been…hungry for. She’s all I’ve been- fuck, needing to make myself run to the b-bathroom and jerk myself off until I see stars—”

“S-stars-” Repeating breathlessly to yourself. Such words from him of all people…especially when it pertained to you…you just couldn’t believe it.

“Making you feel good as your husband is my only goal, my love.” And he means it so earnestly- from anyone else you would have scoffed and rolled your eyes. But Nanami’s staring into your widely-blown peripherals as though he was exposing every shred and fissure in his soul.

He rolls his thumb over the nub of your clit.

Your voicebox raggedly wrenches out, “All this time you’ve…”

And fuck- he’s so far gone that he can’t hold back the fucking lewd grin as he admits—

“All this time-” Planting one chaste peck on your forehead while he fucks you, “-your husband has been-” Then another one on your right cheek, “-a damn pervert waiting for you to catch him.” In more ways than one. And then a final one on your left cheek.

He pulls away and admires you.

“And how does that make you feel, my wife?”

“It m-makes me feel…” Spit drivels from the leaky orifice of your mouth along with a few whining pleas here and there. And before Nanami’s lust-hazed brain can begin to compute it, you’re reaching outwards and grabbing ahold of yet another fistful of his hair.

Dragging him towards you with a persistent few tugs.

Surprise and arousal flash across his face and steep into his already-agonized expression once you pull him close enough.

You enunciate up at him, “It makes me feel like m’gonna cum, soon…” Eyes flapping shut, chest arching up into his firmly-toned one. You hiccup, “-my husband.”

His hips stutter sloppily.

But you weren’t done just yet—“A-and I know you’re close, too.” Gaze flickering down to the briefest flash of his bulbous, red tip as he pulls out- only to be shoved between your pussylips once more. Again and again. “I want you to not hold back, Kento. No matter how hard it is- ngh, don’t hold back on me.”

He repeats, breathlessly. “Don’t hold back…don’t…” Nodding and nodding. 

And then you’re watching the line of his vision sharply stray to something above your head-

To the discarded fabric of his favorite tie.

And do you know how many times spies have been trained to get out of and create restraints? You don’t think it takes Nanami even two heartbeats to swipe the tie somewhere from the headboard and reach behind you to loop around your wrists.

Pinning them together.

Tying them blindly.

Tugging you to him with a flex of his muscles.

You’re being manhandled like so through a few slammin’ stripes down on the innermost layer of your pussy- he seemed to be reaching even deeper with this slight change in position.

“Please-” You can’t catch your breath fast enough—and the sheer sensation of Nanami throwin’ you around like a ragdoll whilst he fucked you like an absolute gentleman was enough to make you stutter out in just a few more moments- “P-please…Kento, m’gonna cum-”

Smack! The skin of his pelvis practically glues against yours. “Cum on your husband’s cock, my dear.”

And with the most sinful, squelching sound of your thighs tightening around his waist- you’re cumming. The fifth time tonight; it sears through every vessel in your body stronger and faster than you remember any previous orgasm being.

A buzzing electricity- turned zapping.

Curdling at the pit of your stomach and making you arch up into Nanami as many times as your limbs could weakly carry you…

Your heels claw ravaged marks down his shoulders, “C-cumming-” Babbling out as stars of pleasure formulate and burst behind your eyes, “Kento—fuck. Fuck, Kento, it feels so good—” 

“Fuck.” He grunts himself.

Entire body shaking as the wave of euphoria roars over you.

Flashing and overstimulated.

Then you’re peering up at him with tear-filled eyes, “Kento, I want you to cum, too-”

And that’s when it hits him.

Almost as if his body had been waiting for permission from you this entire time, as though he’d react to you above anything or anyone else. Orders. Though they were ones that his brain would gladly follow- Nanami throws his head back just a little and stammers his hips.

The round curve of his tip plasterin’ against your sweet, spongy cervix and holding there for a few seconds—before he, too, ends up giving into his pleasure.

Making you cum five times and this was the first time he’s cumming inside.

Brows knitting, his strong jaw drops ever-so-slightly ajar as he feels a sensation like never before. No matter how much of his creamy white cum he’s emptying out- your cushy walls were sucking him up for more, more, more…“Sh-shit—you don’t know what you do to me.” And with that said, he’s raising his knee up and setting it where the pillow underneath your hips was, “I think you a-already know what this pillow is for, hm?”

Nodding, “I do I do-” You could’ve guessed either way.

Especially by the way the spurs of his cum were barreling inside- being fucked deep inside. Deep inside. And because of the positioning of your hips, no matter how much you jostle or buck, his hot wads remain webbin’ up every orifice inside.

Glued to your cervix like adhesive.

The pillow only helped if you wanted to…expand the family.

Another toe-curling burst of pleasure runs through him at the mere thought of it, and Nanami turns his head to kiss the pretty side of your calf. Legs still limply wrapped around his head.

He hums, “And does this go against your mission, my assassin?”

You’re shaking your head.

Quite frankly, the only other thing you can think to do is to tug him closer with your lower half. 

Nanami’s shaft was thick and throbbing—burnished red at the top and polished with so many layers of cum. Hot puddles of it. He was making sure not to waste a single - not even a single - drop of it as he emptied out inside, though the sheer force of his thrusts did end up frothing some of his powdery-white cum between your trembling legs. So full that you were leaking from your hole.

He spits down on your stuffed pussy, fingers twiddling on your clit. “Then how about trying to kill me by milking me dry next?”

His heavy balls clench.

Your jaw drops.

And it really wasn’t just the aphrodisiac. 

You are the one that won’t be making it out of this alive.

.

.

.

“—no…no, it’s not for a lack of resources. No- no one’s threatening me.” Speaking sharply into the receiver of the payphone, the crackle of your elders echoes in your ears. You’re sure that you’re sending the Garden headquarters into an uproar by this point—you’re sure that everyone’s gotten the word.

The Phantom is quitting her line of work.

And though you suppose it wasn’t necessarily against policy to finally quit being an assassin, you just don’t think anyone would have bet that you’d be the next.

And in the booth next to you was Nanami Kento, on the phone with his own higher-ups.

You’re eyeing the handsome man through the translucent screen of plastic in-between, and he’s catching your eyes and shooting you a reassuring smile. He seemed to be having a much easier time with whoever was on his end, meanwhile you…Scoffing at the next accusation they throw out, “No, I’m not drugged or coerced or going to trade secrets with anyone-”

Another higher-up bellows something.

“Look, I’m going to post you my resignation letter and that is that. I just wanted to tell you all personally- think of it as my last duty to you.”  And with a sigh you’re beginning to push away from the receiver, “Don’t contact me again, kindly. Or you can—send assassins after me for all you care, we both know how that’s going to go down.”

The phone gets sternly put back in its place.

And you know that they won’t try to mess with you.

You know that.

They didn’t call you The Phantom for nothing - your presence still haunted the Garden when you weren’t there. As you’re making your way out of the booth, you’re realizing that your husband had wrapped up his call and was waiting for you outside.

Hands in his coat pockets. Fingers inching automatically towards yours once you’re outside.

He’d been nagging at you on getting a warmer covering layer recently, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his own jacket and insist upon you wearing it. Though he wasn’t a very loud man, his affection was practically palpable.

And you’re almost feeling shy walking down the street in what was obviously his coat, whilst he stuffed your joined hands into the pocket of your coat - one that he was now wearing. 

Eventually, you ask. “I assume your call went well, Kento?”

He sighs something half-fond, “Yeah…” And though it was true that both of you had been wanting out from these careers for some time now, it was still a wistful affair. 

It was just last week that Nanami had filed in his report on the Zenin family; revealing some corrupt ties and nonsensical numbers in their business that’d been blown across every news station, magazine, and forum you could think of in the past few days. Zenin Naobito had been arrested, of course, transferring the title of heir to none other than Fushiguro Megumi, your son’s best friend. And though the two of you weren’t working for your organizations anymore, you’d both promised to keep a firm eye on the boy to make sure that he wasn’t being pressured or made to live older than his age anytime soon.

You’re squeezing Nanami’s hand softly, and he looks at you with a smile. Continuing where he’d left off, “They were hesitant, but I think they understood. I think they saw - even before I did - that this was a long time coming.”

“They let you go that easily?”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, “I’m free.”

And you’re doing the same.

You’re both free.

Once you’re opening your eyes, it’s to look at the other side of Shibuya Crossing - where Itadori and his two familiar best friends were standing and waving at the two of you. Furiously. They laughed and bickered about who was waving the hardest. “So romantic—!” You think you hear Kugisaki squeal even from here.

You chuckle as you wait for the light to turn green.

Looking up at the blue, blue sky. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

A/N. No idea how this got so long erm- also Happy Avurudu to anyone that celebrates!!

It doesn’t matter how many times he’s stretching out your walls to the extreme with his red, hard cock, how many times he’ll be eagerly eating your dripping pussy out with all his cum - Toji Fushiguro will always want more. 

Will always feel the crowned tips of his digits twitching with need already, digging a few blossoming bruises along your cute inner thighs. Letting out a sultry breath of ‘fuck’ before in a split-second you’re reeling with the whiplash of being shoved down onto your hardwood floors.  

Off the bed, at his mercy. 

With Toji’s big, beefy biceps cushioning the impact to your body, he’s pinning your squirming hips down with his v-line and snarling- “Here-” The curvaceous tip of his shaft so scorching hot and wet where he’s rubbin’ straight down your slit in impatient gyrations, “Again. Right here.”

“O-on the hngh- floor–?”

“Bed’s broken, doll.” All the explanation that Toji’s granting you with, hovering so tall and proud between your legs. 

If he needed only half of his heavenly restriction to shatter your mahogany bed, then he didn’t even need a fraction of that to nudge your jittery legs apart. Coating your outer pussy with an opaque glaze of pre, Toji spanks the bulbous underside of his cockhead and grins at the puddle he’s smearing down your thighs. 

And just that first, squelching smooch from the top of his strawberry shaft to your teary orifice makes the hulking man shiver. Makes him pant. 

Makes him slouch until you were caged by his meaty chest, draaaagging his caramel-salted lips across your own, “But I’m not.”

And then he’s easing in. 

“Sh-shit.” Your numbing legs can’t even thrash, can’t even move with the full weight of him pressing into you. The stretch of his utterly fat, bulging cock was so much that your spine’s pushing you up against his every ridged ab, gripping onto Toji’s muscular back for dear life. 

Easing and easing- more like rummaging. Rough, forceful ruts of his bulging crown that’s swabbing right ‘round your hole. He’s so thick that even the softest, sweetest clench makes Toji throw his perspired head back and hiss with sensitivity. 

SLAM!

“Oh.” The surface beneath you thunders dangerously with the vibrato of his left hand striking down on the floor. Grunting, “Don’t tap out-”

Roaming one of his thick thumbs between your legs, Toji’s further prying apart your sappy folds with a drawn-out sluuuurp to stretch your cunt. Making sure you gulp down each single, barreling inch. “Don’t run.”

And that groaned warning was targeted at the way your jittery legs had started to plant down on the floor and push.

Unsure of whether to run or swerve your hips back for more, more, more. 

You’re sobbing, the prettiest hitch in your voice that makes his heavy cock jolt. Feeling a fresh few dewdrops of precum sprinkle all the way near your throat. “It’s just s-shooo big, Tooooji–”

Toji’s hooded eyes dilate until he’s looking feral, such a vulgar grin plastering across his lips once he’s giving you a wild buck at your cries. “Ohhhh– come- hah! come back here, mama.” 

Calloused, mean fingertips curl over your gulping throat to haaaul you all the way back down the floor. Swatting your ass against the messily tufted darkness of his happy trail, veins popping up down his arms. He looked so unfairly hot with pearls of sweat twinkling down his temple, greedy gaze half-hidden through his bangs. “No runnin’.”

You couldn’t run away even if you tried. 

He had you pushed into the sloppiest mating press, scooped up in his arms until all you could feel was his bullying, fattened cock. 

“Mmm— hngh! Toji, you’re in so d-deep!” And Toji’s giving a thorough push that has his puckered pink tip lodging all the way into your cervix, the texture of his zig-zagging veins making your knees weak. “S-so full.”

“Riiiight? Again- again.”

And it wasn’t just his full cock splitting your insides, you’re hiccuping after each syrupy splosh of his cum pooled within you. Slick strands of seed leaking out of your slit and gluing your thighs together like adhesive-

“Need it all inside.” Or, at least, it would’ve if it wasn’t for the way that Toji’s hand lifts briefly off of your throat to smear over that overspilling mess. Drenching the pads of his fingers with a frothing of white he shovels between your gasping maw– “Again. Need to…”

Dazed. He trails off, glassy green eyes drifting down to concentrate on your tummy - your womb. Like he could see something you didn’t.

Moaning, Toji’s rugged cadence shifts like lightning to precisely strike your quivering g-spot. Looking down at you with the most lecherous pussydrunken grin whilst you tremble, “-breed you, doll.”

Ah- there. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- think you already hngh- have–!” You’re whining, flinching at the sudden sizzling somewhere above your head. 

“Not enough.”

And it’s only then that you realize that Toji’s simply hoisted his other hand off of the wooden ground to reveal a burning handprint. A crater. “Heh- broke the ngh- floor, too.”

That very same powerful palm clinging on instantly to the side of your hips once Toji curves your gyratin’ tempo to directly match his. Lifting you nearly into midair, he’s using you like some cute, glorified doll to plant hit after hit on your bruising g-spot. 

Over n’ over, no one’s ever treated your pussy like this before - like his own personal dartboard, and he was hitting every bullseye. “Fuck- i-it’s so much–”

Slide-slide-sliiiiding the ridge of his mushroomy tip down that splotchy area you loved so much, “Not enough-” And you’re feeling a shockwave run down your spine at the way big, bad Toji Fushiguro sounded on the verge of tears. Breath hitched, tone octaves higher. “More need- more.”

“P-please-” You’re strangling out the same set of syllables again and again into his scorched red ear, tangling your fingers across the flexing knots of his deltoids-

And Toji, oh- Toji’s letting goosebumps line the middle of his broad back at the touch. Immediately snatching your hands with his sap-soaked one, “Like haaa- feelin’ me, huh?” 

You could feel the power radiating underneath, could feel his rapid, rabbity heartbeat as he gropes your hands all over him. “F-feel me then. This body.” Punctuated with thrust by thrust, your eyes roll backwards as you feel his spherical circumference bruise deep against your womb. “This cock.”

From every strong tendon, to his tensed ladder-like abs, to the valley of his shuddering pecs— your mouth waters at the feeling of his muscles. 

Even more so when he lazily wraps your fingers around his throat- “Choke me, mama.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3 Fuck-nique

“R-rough…?”

And it takes everything in Nanami Kento’s strong, battle-worn body to keep his voice steady for you, feeling the raw swipe of his blushing tip past your pussylips and already hissing. 

Parched Adam’s apple bobbing with a few strangled coughs, “My wife wants it–” His half-lidded gaze locks on your face, your spit-glossed mouth already dropping into a pretty, cockdrunken ‘oh’ as you nod over your shoulder. “-rough.”

In lewd response, your soppy cunt only squelches out a few dollops of glazing slick. Slipping down the sides of Nanami’s swollen shaft and making his puffy veins glisten in the dim lighting, “You’re probably stressed after that hah- jujutsu mission today, Ken–” Your fingers start caressing a soft massage into his tense forearms, “You can take it out on- ngh…me.”

Oh.

If he hadn’t lost his sanity before then he sure has now. 

And Nanami’s thick, ravenous fingertips brush your thighs and twitch with primal strength. It only takes a split second - barely even a nanosecond - for him to pick your jittery limbs up and push push push down.

To fold you into the world’s meanest doggy style while you whine. “My pretty wife wants it rough…”

The only thing sweeter than his cooing, deep tone was the saccharine kiss he’s planting down on your entrance with his cherry-red tip. “-then you’re gonna get it-” The single nicest thing Nanami gifts before mercilessly pinning your hips down with his weight and siiiiinking in with a primal noise. “-rough, my love.”

“Fuck-” Your eyes roll back at the sudden stretch, the pryin’ intrusion of his barreling girth sticking against your walls like a second skin. Stretching n’ stretching. “Oh my– mmm, Kento!”

Nanami swears he’s trying to hold back, he swears he’s trying to keep himself under control when he first puts it in.

But the tiniest glide of his sensitive pink slit across your glossy insides and he’s gnawing down on the inside of his cheek, letting out a sharp gasp. “Oh.” Before shoving your arched spine down and rutting-

“Oh fuck-” You’re yelping, feeling the bullying push of his crowned tip brush near your fucking lungs. His bulging shaft swabbing every tiny crevice to mush, “You’re in so- you’re- hck! Kentoooo–!”

And the only thing you can say is Nanami’s damn name.

The only thing stringing together in the heaping mess of what used to be your brain as he reaches over with his towering frame. Thighs against shaky thighs, fat cock against your sloped pussy. 

Pushing and pushing with a few vulgar strokes until you hear faint pops! of your joints. Using his inhuman strength, your husband’s cradling your hips- the only thing holding you up whilst he hauls over one of his meaty thighs n’ presses down on your lower spine with his knee. 

Bending you, stretching you.

“Shit- shit, m’sorry, darling.” Puffs out his sweltering gust of a gasp against the back of your neck, Nanami’s grip on you bruising while he tries to steady himself. His sanity. 

You’re so soft n’ warm- it feels like heaven, and he’s trying to ease his bulbous tip back for your pussy to get used to. Spraying out a fountain of pre as he pulls out– and then gyrates down a slow, sensual thrust all the way from his reddened mushroom tip down to about halfway, sweetly. “Hate to knock you around- fuck. I can’t have you hurt, my love. Forget going rough, relax f’me and I’ll- I’ll…”

But you don’t relax.

You do the exact opposite - you clench.

And oh- oh, Nanami’s shattered. 

He can’t even think, can’t even remember to breathe before there’s a sudden surge of tightness in the heady air. Your irises blinking at the millisecond of flashing black and red light- before disappearing all the way into the depths of your skull once Nanami twitches. 

Like a madman, he’s bashing your poor g-spot dead-on - and the sheer force of it is so strong that you’re feeling your toes curl, vision blurring. 

His plump, puckered tip wedges right into that sweet spot in your walls, hard enough that it leaves your cunt stinging with a bruise the size of his fat circumference. Once. And then again, in a rough, ragged drill of his toned hips. 

A bullseye- thrice. A hatrick. 

“Oh- right- there- mmm–” You don’t even need to say it, because Nanami’s striking three direct hits each second, his cadence sloppy. Fast. Hard. 

“Look at thaaaat–” Croons out a scratchy bass from above, and it takes you a few blinks of your wet lashes to realize that the one talking was your husband. He’s never sounded this raspy, this ruined. “-you’ve got me a-all worked up n’ now…”

Comically, your pupils are swirlin’ in circles inside of your eyes with each whack! whack! whack! 

Spittle dangling out like he’d just opened a floodgate the moment there’s another flash, and then a sizzling drag of his split-ended crown weepily pressing on your g-spot, precisely.

Your bleary gaze adjusts to the flickering bedroom lights as Nanami carries out his sultry pace, gasping. “W-wait did you just- fuck!” And again, the air pressurizes against your skin as he’s drilling into you animalistically. Filthy half-thrusts that leave your g-spot aching, your ass scratched with his tawny happy trail. “Kento, did you just use- ngh- black flash?”

“Hmmm–?”

Mewling, “Thrice?”

“Oh.” He’s so damn pussydrunk he didn’t even realize, didn’t even register the cursed energy zapping from the ends of his fingers and down to your restless body. 

Dazed, Nanami experimentally creeps down his fingertips to give your perky clit a squeeze– and watches in awe once you’re writhing n’ singing out the cutest whines at the vibrations of jujutsu. 

Thrice, huh? Without even knowing - just using his powers to reach your most favorite spot like he knew you wanted. 

Your husband pushes up the drooping metal frames of his glasses and almost wishes he didn’t- the sultry sight of your pussy too much for him. All bulging and quivering to oh-so-desperately take his entire barreling size, he can’t help but give you a rewarding little smooch of his curvaceous cockhead. 

Letting the slick syrup of his pre dribble allll out of your folds at the sheer volume, “B-black flash…so I did, my love.” That ratio technique coming in way too fucking handy to measure out where your g-spot was, Nanami lays his knee down deeper at the base of your back n’ lets your boneless body sag. “And she liked it.”

Deep down into the mattress he was fucking you into, deep down into where he was letting his powers spark with another flash.

“Oh- I’m–” Your mouth gapes haplessly back n’ forth, no sound dragging out because Nanami’s pounding every ounce of breath from your lungs with a single more thrash into your tenderest area.

A fourth black flash - his record. 

The black and red light dotting behind your eyelids once his strawberry divot comes hammering against your g-spot and pushing - a slip n’ slide that drags his ridged, veiny shaft down your walls and hitting your spongy cervix with a thwack! 

Reeling you straight over the edge before you’ve even realized what’s happening.

Eyes clenched, body shiver, maw hanging open upon the torrents of spittle- You’re throwing your head back and sobbing in carnal bliss as Nanami shifts his body closer. 

Jujutsu crackling out of him in oodles, it twitches out of his touch and leaves your swollen lips stinging once Nanami cranes over to lap away your goblets of drool with his tongue. 

“F-four.” He grumbles, low. Almost in disbelief. Almost gone. Letting the slimy curve of his tip probe thoroughly into your exact bundle of nerves, “Let’s break my record, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Tentacular.

“Keh– so damn messy.” Geto whispers, feeling the soggy wetness of your cunt open ‘round his bulbous tip. That cherry pink curve piercing its way just past your clamping entrance, “This is what you wanted- right, gorgeous? This…”

And he doesn’t finish the tail end of his sentence - he doesn’t have to.

Because you’re feeling it, instead. That sudden, slimy tendril slipping over your slick-glossed inner thighs. Kissing just the puffy outer edge of your pussy as Geto sinks in-

“Oh- oh!” You’re gurgling back a moan at the reddish coil of your boyfriend’s tentacle curse, one he’d summoned hours ago and was teasing you with ever since. 

Letting the pointed tip of one tendril slip n’ slide playfully down your stuffed slit as he stays torturously still, edging you with flicks of pleasure that have you keening. Squirming endlessly, “Puh-please! Wan’ more- Suguru, more.”

“Ah ah, gorgeous–” And fuck- Geto Suguru has the audacity to bring the biggest, fattest one of the eight cursed tentacle meanly spanking down on your drivelling slope. Letting a wet thwack! sing out into the heady air while you sob out– “You can’t be heh- whining like that. Use your big girl words.”

“But- but-”

But you couldn’t - not when Geto was prying you open like this. 

Not only was his hard, reddened cock massively big, letting his plump girth roam around your glazed insides- he’d managed to slip in one of those cloyingly sticky tentacles, too.

Just the first few inches of its curly tress, spreadin’ your folds apart until Geto could let his girthy cock sink allll the way in. His size was just so damn staggering that you’re finding your head dizzy, the sheer stretch having you tumbling your sweaty scalp back into the futon-

“Manners manners.”

For only a split-second, before he’s crawling himself forwards, two of those dextrous tentacles following you to lift your head up. “Look at me when I ngh- put it in.” Hazed amethyst peripheries locked on you, “And tell me- haaaa- tell me what you want.”

Mewling each time his rock-hard length and a singular tendril bully inside to push the button of your g-spot. Rubbing it sensually, crowning it with a sleek frosting of buttery pre, “I— hck! Sugu, I– mmm, right there.”

“Awww, my poor girl can’t even speak.” Geto’s cooing down at you, tone ragged. It’s not like he was doing any better- fuck, he really wasn’t.

He was just shivering at the warm gushing of your wet cunt, so soft and blissful that he can’t even put it in at first without losing control of his powers. 

The tentacle curse was unplanned. You and that sweet pussy liking it was even more unplanned. 

And Geto lets his meaty thighs widen with an out-of-control pound that leaves your inner-thighs stinging, he’s holding back his hitched breath. Blinking away the lusty haze in his vision, swabbing your orifice with yet another rut after rut like a madman.

“Heh– and yer legs are s-sooo weak.” 

You’re flinching once two more tentacles coil in rings around both of your jittery legs and leave them hanging over Geto’s broad shoulders, one kissin’ your ankles in place to keep them tightly held. 

Lips gluing together with saccharine sweet spit, “Sh-shit you’re even deeper now.”

Groaning, “All you’re doing is ngh- drooling. How rude.” His raven lashes come fluttering down at the squelch! your slick cunt lets off once he skims a pale thumb down your middle. Flooding even there. 

Leaving your teary slit open allll for him to admire while he fucks you like he’s angry. Like he’s trying to make you slobber out even more. “C’mon- hah.” Geto’s big, buff body shudders with something visceral at the bolt of cursed energy running down his spine, “C’mon, let’s show her some of our…ngh- manners.”

And it takes you one-two-three thrashes of Geto’s scorching hot tip entering your hole, impaling your pussy n’ hitting right against your g-spot for you to realize that he wasn’t talking to you. 

Not at all. 

He was talking to the greedy coils of tentacles wrapping further n’ further around your body like you were the cutest lil’ gift. Two toying over the nubs of your nipples with their sultry suction, two more tying your ankles together over Geto’s shoulders. 

And, hell, Geto was even using one to curl around your pretty throat and help drag you past every recoil of his whacking hips. Just the slightest parting from your gummy cervix was way too much for him to handle, he needed you there to take it all - and he needed it now. Always. 

But your sobbing cunt? That was all for him- “Dirty giiiirl—” for now, that is. The softened end of one tendril sneaks past your saturated pussylips and squeezes- bullies a singular inch through your entrance. “You want me or that? Tell me- tell me.”

“I- ngh- I want.” The only thing you can do is blubber stupidly as that fat muscle slithers in deep- scouring your dewy wet walls easily for your sweetest spots. Each one.

Pinching and rubbing your pulsating clit, letting his cock dig into your tenderest depths.

So much that you’re almost starting to crawl away—

“Where’re we goin’, gorgeous?” Geto snickers, an innocent blush spreading all over his handsome face at the adorable sight of you being dragged back down by his tentacles when you start to run. 

He’s fucking you - with both. Hard, rough. And after bashing his ruby red tip against your g-spot, Geto’s heading straight for it again with his cursed technique. 

Choking, hauling, Geto pushes one in between your spit-slippery lips and makes you keen. “Theeeere we go. Open that mouth-” Whining, you’re letting off the most primal splat! of puddled saliva as he grins. Wrenching your unfastened jaw open when you could only babble, “What cute hngh- noises. Speak f’me now, smart girl. My biiig fucking cock, or…”

Though, you felt anything but with the fuzzy feeling of your cockdrunk brain right now. Stupidly letting your maw sag to the side as he fills you up doubly, “Both-”

Geto leans in mockingly close, one of his palms cupping his ear to listen for your sweet sounds. Drawling, “What’s thaaat?”

“B-both, Suguru–!”

Oh- both.

And for just a second you think that Geto has stilled - you think that he’s stopped fucking breathing. Just a low, strangled few pants wrenching from the back of his throat-

Before he snaps his hips and strikes you with an ambushing whack of his bulging crown, followed up by the sluuurping snake of one of his tentacles pushing and pushing. Stretching your pussylips so wiiide with the circumference that you swear you see cartoonish stars floating above his head.

Only to realize that it’s cursed energy, something oh-so-carnal as Geto flicks the slick tip of his tendril in tempo with his sloppy dick. Drilling you double, drilling you until you see double. 

“And now…” Geto coaxes you into a carnal embrace, sweetly pecking the top of your perspiration-covered head before he’s extending even longer. The thick veins decorating all over his shaft pressing into your sides, his cursed technique throbbing- just waiting. 

Waiting for that perfect moment to grow even bigger inside of you. And the best bit was he wasn’t even fully in control anymore - too pussydrunk to, just by feeling you.

Geto grins at that soft gasping ‘oh!’ you let out once you realize, leaning down to darkly murmur. “Let’s count how many hah- inches before I…get even bigger, gorgeous.”

♡ KASHIMO HAJIME - ROSE (TOY)

Kashimo didn’t think he’d be here - four hundred years in the modern day and held hostage by your sweet, sweet pussy.

Fuck- he feels himself claw a powerful hand down the side of your smoothly gyrating hips, gliding your swollen pussy further down his cock and he’s bucking-

Greedy. Desperate. 

His other hand trembles with the weight of your softly buzzing rose toy, lightning sparking between his fingers to make it vrrrrr louder between your legs. Electrified. 

This was dangerous. He’s already feeling the cursed energy rush, already making up his mind to gently jostle you off for the greater good- but instead, he’s swiping his cherry-red tip between your folds and pushing. 

“Fuck- fuck.” Words departing in seething hot pants, Kashimo can’t help but grit his teeth and reel his slender hips back. Only for the clamping wetness of your walls to make him dizzy, “You seriously feel like this?” Something high-pitched, in disbelief. “S’the hah! sweetest lil’ cunt in the world, blossom.”

“Ngh- nghhh fuck! Hajime…” You’re cutely mewling out, the feeling of his thick, bulging cock opening up your snug walls was so addictive. And that burning stretch already had your poor knees weakening along with your sultry bounces. 

Pap after pap after pap- Kashimo counts each slam of your sexily restless ass cheeks against his pelvis. 

Feeling his skin already start to redden, he’s grinning. Drinking up everything sloppy slurp ringing from below whenever he’s striking your dewy orifices, “Shhh sh sh, little one.” Boring down at you with half-lidded azure eyes so intense, “Let me hear- this fucking- pussy.”

And it’s the first time he’s feeling something like this, the first time he’s mazing his weepy cocktip to glue against the surface of your cervix and feel you squeeze. 

“Fuh-fuck!” He bucks, he pants. Eyes flickering with lightning-

And Kashimo doesn’t know what’s louder - the crack of your nearby bedroom lamp shattering into a zillion pieces, or the way your rose toy notches up until its vibrations are damn near deafening. 

His power out of control - all leveraged against you and that cute cunt. 

Whimpering, you back arches oh-so-sinfully once he’s dragging the lecherously suctioning tip just across your clit. Teasing you with the soft suckling of your toy, “H-how hck! I thought the battery would be ngh- dead by now.”

“Oh, it is—” He’s crooning from below you, beryl strands of his bangs plastering to his sweaty forehead as he looks up at you. Kashimo’s grin is just so satisfied once he toys with your perky clit until you’re whining n’ sniffling, “Such cute lil’ things you hah- have these days…”

And you’re watching on in confusion when Kashimo keeps giving your teary pussy one kiss from your vibrating rose toy. Another. And another, a sleazy grin spreading all over his face at the way it makes your dewy cervix twitch with each clench. 

Again n’ again.

“S’too bad that-” Before suddenly wrenching that hot pink toy away across your dampened sheets- immediately out of battery without his cursed energy. Unneeded now. And giving your awaiting cunt a good spank of his electrically buzzing fingerpads, “-I can do it even better.”

He’s right- fuck, he’s more than right. 

In only a split-second, Kashimo has his probin’ cockhead buried deeply between your damp folds and his fingers pinching your swollen clit. The light jujutsu power on them making your head throw back with a moan– “O-ohhh fuck! Tha’s cheating, Hajime-”

“Shush- what did I ngh- say? Not you-” Purposefully, he’s rudely swatting your cunt more to let the sparks of lightning zap down your spine all the way from your drooling cunt. “Though, I do like when you heh- scream, blossom. But I wanna hear fuuuuck– her.”

His fingers were like living, moving vibrators - just making your sensitive slit quiver all over with your arousal. 

You’re so wet that it’s formulating a cute puddle where you were riding him, thighs twitching when you’re slipping and sliding all down his hungry cock. Your stuffed hole repeatedly letting out the sexiest wet squelches- 

“Oh? Oho? How chatty.” Kashimo snickers from between his clenched snarl, pearly whites spread in such a wiiide grin hearing your pussy this way. Nodding as if he was in conversation, “S’that sooo–” 

You’re flinching once his sultry eyes target your own, flattening his feet on the ground to look right into your stare as he mazes his crowned mushroom tip along your walls. Hitting your cervix and making sure to leave a slightly bruised crater for you to feel afterwards, “Guess what this- hah! naughty fuckin’ girl just asked me, little one?”

“Wh-what?” You yelp, voice cracking once he twists his thumb on top of your sensitive nub to draw a tiny lightning bolt. 

“She wanted me…” Kashimo drawls out, trailing off as the side of his veiny shaft slaps your sweetest spots. Rendering you speechless and shivering at the lightning bolted texture, “-to go even harder.”

And oh, you knew that look on the incarnation’s face.

You knew it- that wild, wide-eyed look of absolute fucking madness before he lurched his hips off of the overworked bedsprings. Making your maw dangle with a shrilling gasp when he’s milking his swollen, red cock on your warm cunt. 

Kashimo snickers, “Can- can you even imagine?” The prominent cuts of his v-line massaging up into your lower tummy, over n’ over punctuating each syllable. Each breath. “G-going harder.”

“O-oh, fuck–” You’re squirming restlessly at the way his fingers only seem to buzz even harder with lightning cursed energy. The way it was seeping out of him now, making your overhead lights flicker, making the air turn static.

“Well- I can only- listen to every fucking word she says.”

And maybe it’s the way that the flicks of his cursed energy jolt down your slit even needier, maybe it’s the way he’s roaming his knobbled thumb even further between them to draw a sweet, sweet heart. Plump, pink-colored tip giving your g-spot one of his countless mean hits- this time sending white-hot sparks skittering down your walls. Either sheer brute force or jujutsu - you don’t even know before you’re throwing your head back and cumming. 

Eyes blearing with so many tears, voice wobbly as you call out– “I-inside.” Gazing down at Kashimo’s slightly wide-eyed, shocked pupils. “Cum inside, Hajime.”

And in all his over four hundred years of living, this might be the first time his powers had ever been so out of control. 

Every single light in your house shatters, the power shuts, Kashimo’s long lashes streak with miniscule flickers of purple lightning as he finally finishes off. In the most unsteady, heavy way.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit- this s’all your fault.” He’s filling you up with so many weighty ropes of cum, letting the lecherous knots slick down your pussy channel and stick to your cervix like an adhesive. “All your fault all your- ngh!” 

Swivellin’ over one of his slender fingertips where your hole was slobbering out in a milky sap, you yelp after each mindless rut of his body. Washboard abs massaging your front, thwacking each driveling ounce leaking out of him. 

“D-don’t even think I can cum anymore.” He trails off, finally realizing the darkness in the room. The way he’d just left every ward in Tokyo without electricity. 

Kashimo’s sapphire eyes glow as he pummels his sticky wads of seed deeper, buzzing fingers still twitching. Lips curling into a smile the more he toys, the more he makes a mess. Thrusting, “But that’s how losers think.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Blush blush blush

Choso was so good for you like this- he was so gone. 

Just the first, most innocent peck of his glittery wet cocktip swipin’ down your slit and he’d found himself cumming. Pretty eyes clenched tight, face burning, rosy lips sagging with awe—

“I’m ngh- s-sorry, baby–” He’s babbling, the cutest wobble shivering his wet-sheened lips. With one set of his slender fingers wrapped ‘round his fat hilt, he’s pushing to let the raw entrance of your cunt swallow up his creamy wads ravenously.

Choso tumbles his head back and moans at the sinful sight, his own dry Adam’s apple bobbing with an overeager swallow. “Sorry- made such a mess.” Stirring the entrance of your drenched pussy with the crowned tip of his cockhead, “Gonna clean it all up- d-don’t you worry about a thing, baby.”

You’re cooing, running your dominant hand through his sweat-polished locks. “Aww– s’okay, Cho. It’s your hah- first time, after all. We can stop now if you-”

“No.”

And that wasn’t just a plea - it was a beg.

Before you know it, Choso’s pulling your boneless legs over his shoulders. And he’s so strong, dazed eyes boring into yours whilst he effortlessly folds you in half into a mating press that had your ass cheeks lifting off the bed.

Rippling deltoids pushing forwards, his twitching hand angrily pumping his red-hot hilt. “Nonono- no.” Choso whispers wetly, his heated breaths fanning your face. “I can do it again- ngh- watch me-”

“But, baby, if you can’t-”

“I will.” And you’ve never seen your sweet boyfriend sound so ragged, it’s as if his gentle baritone was holed with rasps and something primal. Choso’s dazed, mindlessly creeping over one of his other clammy hands to squeeeeze your cheeks rudely together and make you watch. “M’gonna get h-hard again for my baby. I will.”

And it’s only then that you’re seeing - properly seeing.

The way that Choso’s sexily slashing tattoos grow deeper over his nosebridge, the way his entire body flexes with cursed energy- oh.

He’s using his powers. And your eyes immediately snap to the way his right hand curls snugger over his bulky base and buzzes with blood manipulation technique. 

Choso’s bulbous, red tip was so hard with every ounce of blood rushing between his legs that it’s twitching weepily. Slobbering ribbons of pre frothing over your pussylips and making your cunt gleam with sap. 

“S-see?” He utters out, guttural. Broad pecs glittering with beads of sweat after every feverish heave, he was working himself overtime. Working himself for you. Spank goes the way that he’s swatting your slit with his veiny shaft, “You want it like this? Haaaah- got m’self all ngh- needy for you again.”

Your hips buck up impatiently, making Choso’s bawling divot bump directly against your sloppy hole and watching him whimper. “Cho– want it inside.” Mouth watering, he was just so hot. “Every inch, promise?”

“P-promise.” Oh, Choso would kneel at your feet and vow an oath if you showed even the slightest inkling that you wanted him to. 

And his mouth saps over with a fresh bout of drool at the feeling of your dampened cunt letting him in, pushing past your dewy wet folds to give your walls a carnal scrape of his weepy orifice. 

“Promise- promise, oh- I promise-” He’s babbling away, chestnut eyes glazing over with tears of primal bliss as he’s rocking his hips into yours. The slimy abrasions of his veins leaving your back arching- Choso wasn’t even fully finished with using his blood manipulation, yet. 

Not even fully done- and yet, he’s just so addicted. Just so greedy with the notion of pounding your pretty pussy like it deserved. Still fisting the sensitive base of his cock, “Gonna m-make myself real hard. Gonna make you feel hngh- reeeeal good with my fucking cock, baby.”

“Cho- oh- fuck!” You’re mewling, your own salty tears hitting your lips at the sheer stretch. “Y-you’re so big.”

And really, Choso was just so big that his big, bulbous cockhead was pushing into your lungs. Making you feel every inch of his prolonged length inside your hidden nooks n’ crannies - and that lil’ power of his was only making him bigger. 

Harder. 

Oh-so-big that you were almost struggling to fit all of him-

Whining, “No- nonono it’ll fit, baby- promise it’ll fit.” 

Fuck- had you said all that out loud? Choso’s hooded gaze was frenzied with a low look of panic, the tough lines of his hipbones bashing your inner thighs with his fervor. His ruts. 

Gulping, “I need it to fit.” And yet, he was bulging and bulging so long and wide inside of you that every motion forwards made you shrill out. Blood manipulation going out of control, flaring his soaked slit up until he’s molding your soft walls to his each precise measurement. “Want it- need it a-aaaaaall the way up…”

Your mouth parches like the fucking Sahara as you watch Choso snakingly guide his free hand along your middle. Drawing a line straight up from the very top of your clit- up, up, up past your womb. Your tits, your collarbones, until he’s levelling his touch over the beginning of your throat. “-here.”

Chuckling to himself - oh, he was going to make that a reality.

And the sudden burst of cursed energy was telling you the same thing, “B-but you’re only getting even mmm– bigger, baby.”

“And you’re only getting s-soooo much fucking wetter.” 

Pushing and pushing. He was fucking you as if he would pass out - as if he would die - if he wasn’t all shoveled all the way between your plump, puckered pussylips. 

Choso’s touch was sizzling with power by now, every area of contact with your skin rubbing your flesh all raw and lewd. He didn’t even have to furiously jerk off his long shaft anymore, so engorged with lust that it almost hurt. 

Out of control.

But it hurt him more to not be all the way inside of you- he puffs out. “T-take a deep breath, baby–”

Still reeling from that probin’ girth of his, your tit heaving tantalizingly as you gasp. “I-it’s fitting, Cho-”

“It’s fitting-” He’s echoing in utter disbelief, the glittery flaps of his mouth sagging into a perfect oh! when he’s straining to hear that squelch-squelch-squelch of each bloated inch being bullied inside of you. Growing even bigger with delight- and his lecherous cursed energy, Choso lets out a shocked ‘fuck’ once his rounded ballsack spanks your cunt with a thwack!

Struggling to clamp your glossy walls around his thick circumference, the tightness makes him close his teary eyes with a whimper. Still growing bigger- “Baby- m’I getting ngh- pregnant tonight or are you?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - King of Doubles

“Fuck- fuck.” Sukuna shutters his devilish crimson eyes in an attempt to veer off that embarrassing set of heart-eyes taking over his gaze. 

Hell, he even shakes his head- he even grits his sharpened canines every time he’s hitting the roof of your pussy with every deep plunge. But it still didn’t work, and he’s feeling his mask of cursed energy start cracking, already reaching out and radiating off of him in waves. 

Rovering each globular end of his shaft along your tenderest, mushiest spots, he groans. “This is all your fault- and yours.”

“Wh-whose?” You’re blabbing out stupidly, taking a few seconds to actually follow the King’s line of sight down to where your cunt was greedily trying to gulp him up. Fuck- you’re realizing with a jolt, he was talking to your pussy. 

The first time you’re actually letting him lodge both massive, dual lengths inside and it’s driving you wild. Your legs thrash with each sunken inch, needing more– “Oh- mmm– s’too much, Kuna.”

“Too much- too much?” Sukuna mocks, octaves higher in a derisive tone that really doesn’t match yours. Breathes stuttered, tone thick. “I’ll show you too much, fucking brat.”

He was on the verge of losing it. 

And all it takes is a singular bat of your eyes - and suddenly you’re no longer sprawled out all prettily on Sukuna’s royal silk sheets. You’re being lifted cleanly into midair- legs dangling, gravity drooping, clinging onto his seven-foot frame and at his completely n’ utter mercy.

Two of his clawed hands creep downwards to grope a good handful of your ass cheeks, grinning as you gasp at the change in positions. “Look what yer doing- do you even hah- realize?”

He’s holding you up like it’s nothing, letting your cute human hands scrape all down his muscular back. Shit, those barely even feel like kitten scratches to him. 

“Ngh- o-oh my god, mm– s-so big, Kuna. Feel you so deep-”

“That’s it, easy there-” Sukuna feels the second cursed mouth smeared across his abs drool at the sopping wet squeeeelch your cunt lets off once he’s sinking even deeper. “Filthy fuckin’ pussy- sucking up both.” Letting gravity do its lecherous thing while he’s holding you up without a care in the world- acting as if he wasn’t absolutely shattering at the feeling of you taking both his bulging twin cocks for the first time. “Eeeeeeasy there, girl- s-stay still and take it.”

Holy shit, did you just make Ryomen Sukuna stutter?

Your head snaps up in shock, looking at him with the prettiest teary gaze. “D-did you just-”

“Shut up.” Gasping, fuck- he couldn’t lose face like this. And before you know it, the King’s pushin’ your gaping maw towards his cushy, shuddering pecs. 

Letting your mouth slobber a sloppy piling sheen of saliva, two of Sukuna’s arms nestle safely underneath your legs and push you up higher. Rummaging your pussy with a few vulgar strikes that have your pupils circlin’ your eyes-

Determined to fuck you dumb. 

“Shut up and take it a-all up to here now.”  Your throat bobs with a swallow once the pointed curve of one of his claws draws a horizontal line halfway across your tummy, nearer to your throat than not. “Otherwise your king will be hah- displeased, little human.”

“W-wan’ it all, Kuna–” You’re whining, the doughy heels of your feet latching around his broad waist. He was just so monstrously massive that you’re straining to even cling on, crawling up to caress his neck. “I want both- ngh!”

And it wasn’t just his aching, swabbing girths that were rummaging your insides uncontrollably- with just the slightest reach to the top of his frame, Sukuna’s second mouth is slithering its slimy tongue tip between your inner thighs. 

Making sure you feel the rough texture of his tastebuds when he’s swiping it between your teary pussylips and lapping up every inch of you from the outside. 

“Shit-” He’s moaning out over the sweaty crown of your head, the arched length of his spine shivering with zaps of electricity. Narrowing his gaze downwards, “Wh-who told you to…”

And he can’t even finish his damn sentence. 

Not when you’re rocking your hips back into the dampened gape of his cursed maw, letting Sukuna’s split-ended tongue toy the tiniest lecherous circles over the buttony nub of your clit. Spanking– he swears, “Nghh- and who told you to-” 

He couldn’t even control his damn second mouth anymore.

You taste so damn sweet that he can’t help but grow bigger, stretching your slippery walls out to the maximum. 

Panting, slouching, ears popping with the pressure of cursed technique so strong that the King of Curses himself is struggling to steady the tremble in his meaty thighs. “Keep those h-hands to yerself, brat, unless you nghhh- want me to-”

You gasp- Sukuna wasn’t just inflating from the protruding end of his double shafts, he was growing taller. More muscular. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his jujutsu energy let his true form rip through even more. No longer toning himself down for you, he’s struggling to fight against the powers making him well over eight feet, oh-so-large. 

“Y-you have…” You’re muttering, eyes widening as you trace your fingers over the sharp, pointed ends of the horns that’d just grown from his skull. 

Horns. He had horns now. 

More monster than man.

And Sukuna shivers just as soon as your doughy fingerpads scrape near the base, just as sensitive as if you were tickling his aching cocks. “O-ohhh– you’re ruining me, girl.” Peripherals darkened, trying to reel himself back in. Trying to wield his cursed energy. “You don’t know what you’re haaah- up against. You don’t know if you can even take it.”

Almost pleading- and yet, you’d never step down from that. 

It turns out that his horns were where Sukuna was the most intimately sensitive, “But I wan’ that, Kuna—” You’re whining, lower lip jutting with a pout as you grab onto both those long tusking projections. 

“O-oh.”

Using it - using him to roll your hips back in swivelling gyrations, bludgeoning the spheroid circumference straight into the gooey depths of your pussy. Slamming n’ slamming the thrashing fringe of his tip into your g-spot. 

Growling, “You asked for ngh- this, spoiled brat.” He couldn’t shift back even if he tried, Sukuna throws his head back with a shiver as his frame chisels further. 

Now damn nearing nine feet, he’s pushing his deeply barreling lengths into you until your cunts painting the tattoos on his hilts all translucent. “So you’re gonna- fuuuck- take it.”

Sukuna’s second mouth laps up the glittery sploshes of your arousal as you whine, and you can’t help but notice that his canines had grown so sharp. He was so much bigger, stronger, cursed energy stifling you to him until his fat, veiny cock was all you could think about. 

“And then-” 

“Th-then?”

So utterly dumb with his vicious pace, he’s planting a striking bash dug into the spongy wetness of your cervix that finally - finally - bottoms him out. Gasping, your eyes flap confusedly open at the feeling of something hot…and swollen kissin’ the base of your ass cheeks. 

What was…oh, fuck.

“Then…” Grinning toothily, Sukuna watches on as you’re swervin’ your cunt back to feel more more more of his aching knot. A knot— all to plug you up from the inside, fat n’ throbbing. He has to slouch nearly his entire body to whisper in your ear, “-you’re gonna squirt on my knots as thanks, spoiled lil’ human.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “Next.”

Gojo’s blindfold dangles haphazardly off of your clammy neck as you instantly gape- his rasping baritone sending shivers where it hits the top of your arched back. 

Scorching a light breeze down your spine where goosebumps pebble, the strongest lays one hand on the right of your ass cheek and pulls out with a squeeelch! That lewd noise making him twitch, making him gasp–

“Oh…” He’s grumbling out, plump n’ pink mouth sagging into a gaping oh! at the heaps of creamy white cum that dribble from between your pussylips. 

It’s making such a mess down his milky upper thighs, a syrupy ringed frothing falling from between your stuffed, driveling cunt. “Next.” Rounded tips of his fingers pushing and pushing it all back in where it belonged. Breath hitching, “Next.”

Fuck- you don’t know where it even began. 

One second your husband was off on one of his usual missions, and the next he’s teleporting back and kneeling at your feet to fuck your sweet, sweet pussy. Mouth already watered because of the sheer saccharine scent— “Fuck me.” 

Though, that was hours upon hours - rounds upon rounds ago.

He’d begged, and right now he was groaning at the plop! of wetness ringing out from your entrance. A free hand curling just around your gasping throat-

“Look.” Gojo utters, something primal seeping into his tone as he sinks in. “Look.”

He doesn’t even need to tug on your sweaty crown with tendrils of his cursed energy, Gojo’s choking your tender airway upwards. Making your fluttering, lust-filled eyes stare right into the mirror propped up at the end of your bed. 

And oh- oh.

The sight that greets you makes your heart race. 

Gojo Satoru - but not like you’ve ever known him.

This was the strongest that curses and sorcerers alike feared- half-opened eyes aglow, skin skittering with pale blue lightning, he looked like he’d just crawled from hell just to drag you down with him. And he was ravenous. 

The crescent nailmarks curve deeper into your skin, Gojo leaning his own smoky throat closer. “I want you to look at me while I breed you, sweetheart.”

“B-but Toru–” You’re whining, your teary pupils roaming ‘round the surface of the mirror. Catching on the way the unbolted pieces of furniture in your bedroom were floating at the sheer pressure of his jujutsu. “-the- ngh- your power-”

He was so out of control as he slipped just a few inches inside, letting that cute strawberry-pink tip of his get swallowed up by your entrance. You’re clenching and sparks of cursed energy burst–

“Satoru, the bed!”

Oh, the bed. 

Gojo was in so deep, losing himself to the soft n’ sweet clench of your cunt so much that even the damn mattress was starting to hover. 

At your cute shrilling yells, he’s looking around airily as if in a daze. You’re peering through the half-fogged reflection at the way that his hoarse larynx rips out a tiny, ‘oh’. Immediately snapping his fingers—

“Fuh-fuck!” It wasn’t just the flying furniture that topples - it’s you, too. 

Straight onto the soaked silken sheets of your shared bed- or, at least, you would have if it wasn’t for Gojo’s clasped hand trapping your throat. Holding your woozy head up whilst the rest of your hips sticks to the rickety bedsprings, the weight of him - the weight of his cursed technique - too much for you to handle. 

“Wh-what did you-” You’re letting out a softly whining gasp at the press of charged atoms near your slick outer pussy. 

Suddenly, it just felt like your walls stretched so much wider - yearned for his fat, plundering cock so much more. And Gojo can only look down at the mess he’s made with a dopey grin, “Unlimited void, huh?”

Posing it as a question- he didn’t even realize. 

“Didn’t mean to oh- mmm yeah—” Letting the dampened ends of his bangs tickle your neck, he’s rubbin’ his curvy cocktip against the gummy roof of your pussy back and forth back and forth back and forth. Deeper. Harder. “Ooooo– didn’t even mean to hah- do this, my girl.”

Whimpering, your hips buck back greedily in tempo with his once he dips just the tail ends of a free hand past your quivering folds. 

Eyes widening, breath stuttered- Gojo can’t help but hold back his ruined whimper and rut. “Oh, s’really unlimited void.” Sending a splosh of sap to hit the sides of your walls and pool at the very bottom of your womb. “Was an accident but…” 

It’s so noisy the way you’re dripping with creamy knots of his cum, all down between your thighs. Squeeelch goes your pretty pussy, and he’s finding himself greedily swallowing. 

Now he could fit all he wanted into you. 

Nodding along as if he was in conversation, “If you ngh- insist, sweetheart.”

“Toru- who are you–”

“Her, duh.” 

Rolling his hazy azure eyes- and if Gojo was talking sweetly to your pussy, it sure didn’t mean that he was pounding into you nicely. “Next” Repeating like a mantra. “Next.” Drilling away like he was crazed, like he couldn’t fight back the urge to reach underneath you and push down on the inflation of cum n’ dick outlining your pretty tummy. “Next next- next.”

Your teeth rattles with the splashing swat of each ribbon after ribbon of thin, wiry cum he’s milking out of himself. Dragging the zig-zagging veins of his shaft repeatedly into your gooey orifices until his overworked divot was sputtering out more seed. 

He needed this- needed you to be all full to the brim. 

Just to feel how wet you were with his icy white sap, Gojo pushes his v-line against your hips until you’re keening. Roughly lining the inside of your sweet spots with a precise glide, he’s feeling the insides of your flooded cunt and smiling. “Mmm– you’re about to cum.”

The Gojo Satoru above you was drooling- whimpering. 

Gaze locked. Cock ravaged. 

He was fucked out. 

And so were you- all it takes is one, two, three accurate hammers against the bulbous orb of your g-spot before you’re hitting your high. Whining drunkenly as you finish off, Gojo lets off a syrupy swing of his length to stir your insides before he himself cums. Dry. 

If you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed how the lights were now permanently off, how every glass object in your bedroom shatters. In practically every ward in Tokyo, actually. 

And somewhere in Gojo’s out-of-control, powerful senses he’s registering the sudden spike of cursed energy- surely, the alarm bells were going off for every sorcerer in the area. 

But ah, he’s the strongest. And the strongest was more focused on you right now. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” You jolt when you feel the burning stare of his Six Eyes– Gojo snickers. Pushing you down further to cream himself, reverse cursed technique seeps out of him like a second skin when he hears the faint pop! of joints. “It’s gonna be- hah…a girl.”

Blinking back the stupid circles your dilated eyes were traveling, you’re still twitching with the euphoric remnants of your high. “A-a girl?” 

“Mhm.” 

It doesn’t matter if it makes him shiver like no other- flickers of blue cursed energy shatter across his muscular body as Gojo plants another slurring thrust on your rummaged pussy. Feeling his fattened tip freeze just where his eyes saw your womb to be- “Let’s make it twins.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Jailhouse Fuck

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The thrice-repeated slamming of Higuruma’s gavel left you hostage to his rudely probin’ cock, locked in your husband’s domain and at his mercy ever since you’d decided it was time to put his work aside for a little…relaxation. 

He didn’t even mean to call on his jujustu- but fuck, if it didn’t feel like your pussy was even sweeter when your body’s being pressurized with charged atoms of energy. 

“O-oh, please, Hiromi–!” Calls out your hoarse throat, head tumbling back stupidly as you buck your hips on top of his toned ones. It just felt so filthy to be riding Higuruma right then n’ there in his office chair. “It f-feels so good-”

Tugging on the black velvet of his tie, he’s staring up at you through such heady half-lidded eyes. “S’that so?”

And fuck- you’re noticing the way that his courtroom domain seems to only radiate with even more waves of cursed energy. The way that split-ended circle at the end of his lengthy shaft was pouring out dewy sprinkles of precum, flooding your poor insides. 

Grunting, Higuruma plants his hand on the side of your ass to hold you still whilst he impales your cunt with a thorough thrust. Dead-on your g-spot- “Bullseye.” 

“Mmm– r-right there!”

“Can feel you hah- clenchin’ around me so much, sweet angel.” He’s puffing out as a sigh, circling his hips underneath yours to make his blushing red tip stiiir your insides sensually. “You’re not lasting long.”

Responding with the cutest pout- oh, how it makes his aching balls tighten even more. “Can’t help it–” 

And here, in his domain, Higuruma was even stronger. 

The coldness of his matching wedding ring sizzles against the clammy side of your hips, manhandling you with a mere fraction of his strength to ride his cock even sloppier. 

Higuruma wrestles you up n’ down his veiny shaft like he was trying to milk himself, like he was gliding the pointed end of his dick against your gummy walls with the aim to bruise. “Mhm- oh yes, you can’t ngh- help it, sugar.”

And though he’s nodding his head along n’ agreeing, there’s something dark seeping into Higuruma’s deep tone that makes you falter. 

Something he doesn’t have the patience for - something his thoroughly pussydrunken mind can’t even stand right now. 

“Ah ah-” With a soft spank near your right ass cheek, he claws down your clammy flesh and makes you slam your hips down. “So…” Stinging with the ridges of his sculptured pelvis, rubbed all raw with his black happy trail. Glancing somewhere over your shoulder, “Do you think she deserves to cum?”

And fuck- fuck, how could you have forgotten that lil’ part of Higuruma’s domain?

You two had a cursed audience - that massive shikigami your husband called ‘Judegman.’ Looming near the edge of the domain and closely watching as he ruined you on his lengthy cock. 

Feeling your heart race in embarrassment and something else. “H-Hiro, that’s ngh- fuck, you’re so mean-”

“Now now, don’t make me haaaa- hold you in contempt of the court, angel.” He’s cutting through your babbling mewls, and shit- you catch that dimple near the corner of his lips as Higuruma grins. “We have…exhibit evidence here.”

Once more speeding up his relentless cadence, he’s slamming against that goopy g-spot of yours and instantly making you see stars. Your maw falling open with a few glittered beads of saliva that hit his broad pecs with a splatter! 

Both you and the wooden chair sing out in croaky synchronization with each bucking swerve back where he was drilling up into you. Pummeling you with all his long inches, “Please- please let me cum–”

“Behave.”

And he wasn’t just silencing you - Higuruma was reaching for that sexily dangling tie still around his neck. Slipping the soft fabric over your mouth to wrench it cutely shut, he finds himself pulling back with a snicker at how pretty you looked with your whiny mouth all gagged. “Order in the court.”

Toying with the perked outer edge of your clit, he gives you a striking whack there right on time with a particularly harsh probe against your g-spot. “Hmm…I don’t think she deserves to ngh- cum.”

Watching as you muffle out a shriling plea-

He only swats your sensitive nub with a rapid spank, “How about it?” Further dumbifying you with the most lecherous drags of his cock- and despite riding him, it was allll on him now to ruin you. “Think she ngh- deserves it?”

You know the question’s not directed at you, but you’re still nodding. Lurching yourself closer to where grunts were spilling through Higuruma’s mouth after every push of his barreling thrusts.

So hot and soft inside you that- fuck, even he was weak to the way you’re gazing down at him with the most adorably dazed eyes. Occasionally criss-crossing when his plummy tip kisses your favorite spots, “Do you deserve it, angel?”

You were burning. You were being split apart. 

And the only thing you can do is give your wailing answer– strangled through the tie and yet still reaching your husband’s ears as a constant ‘yes yes yes yes!’

“S’that sooo–?” Gruffly, Higuruma lifts the edge of his frigid wedding band to glide down the slope of your pussy. Watching as your creamed pussy quivers and gushes. So sinful. So addictive. 

And he might be a damn good lawyer- but fuck, was he weak for his wife. And he languidly watches as the golden glint of his ring gets covered in all your translucent slick, “Well-” Looking right in your eyes when he’s bringing it up to his spit-glossed lips to suck. “-the verdict says…”

You barely even hear what his cursed shikigami says - barely even need to know, because in a split-second Higuruma’s face splits with a snarling, feral grin and he bucks. 

Smoochin’ your g-spot so hard that it propels you from your edged agony and straight into heaven. Oh- you’d been judged, and you’d been allowed to cum. 

And Higuruma was making sure that you’re riding it allll out to your heart’s content-

“Ride me. Use me.” He’s groaning, superhuman reflexes carrying your weight easily to swivel his slimy tip inside n’ drag out peak after peak. The driveling gloss of Higuruma’s precum collects all over your g-spot and makes you feel hot all over, your orgasm making your vision flash. 

Toes curling, your mouth unhinges so wide that that rude tie flops straight into your lap. 

Lips moving with those next few words of yours before you’re even registering them in your melty mess of a mind. “F-fill me up, please, Hiromi?”

“O-oh.” For perhaps the first time in your marriage, Higuruma opens his mouth and falters. Stoic bass cracking, huffed pants coming out heavy, you feel his domain crackle with a sudden surge of powerful energy– he’s never been more gone. “I don’t have any objection to that, sugar.”

A/N. Heheh first time writing for a four-hundred year old man kinda nervous.

it's spoken with such finality that not even gojo can think of a retort back, pulling a sour face before sliding off the mahogany desk and into the velvet chair across from nanami instead. the taller man just blinks, lets out a frustrated sigh, then resumes his fervent typing on the computer. it only hits gojo now how unnaturally dark the office is, every curtain pulled shut with only peeks of sunlight shining through the miniscule blinds of the office window.

gojo takes the silence as an opportunity to get a proper look at his friend - nanami's face looks more sunken in then usual. his skin color a bit pale, perhaps from the lack of sunlight, the frown on his lips permanent as he re-highlights something on a case bundle. his blazer has been messily disregarded on a sofa nearby alongside his briefcase, where a bento box sits untouched. the cuffs of nanami's white shirt have been rolled up to around his elbows, his tie loosely hanging from his neck (and gojo watches as every few seconds nanami scowls and readjusts his tie, mumbling that the fabric is itchy). his usually perfectly styled blonde curls are sticking out in odd directions, and the office trash can sitting nearby has an array of gum wrappers and take out coffee cups piling up.

gojo lets out a slow breath - yikes. this is worse than i thought.

"you sure about the coffee?" he gestures, pointing vaguely to the steaming flat white still next to nanami. the blonde doesn't even flinch.

"yes. i only drink green tea after 3pm, christ's sake." nanami grumbles, testing even gojo's patience.

"well how the fuck was i supposed to know that?" gojo asks sarcastically, crossing one leg over another. something momentarily shifts in nanami's eyes, before his eyebrows furrow in focus on the document in front of him.

"(y/n) would know."

it's mumbled like a whisper, like a petulant admission of a toddler being denied time to play. gojo thinks back to the voice memo you sent him this morning, promising to bring him back pastries from new york on your way back.

it all clicks for gojo.

a part of him wants to laugh at his friend for how immature nanami's being, for allowing a momentary absence of you to color his decision making and personality at work. but another part of gojo finds it... deeply amusing.

especially when he thinks back to how much he had to nag nanami to finally cave in and ask you out all those years ago, instead of always spending 30 minutes more than necessary at the gym to try and catch a glimpse of you before work.

"i see... all this attitude at work because your wife is halfway across the world for a month?"

that catches nanami's attention, the man's hands dropping down onto his lap as a deep scarlet flush spreads through his cheeks.

"it's not that simple."

the smirk on gojo's face only gets wider.

"mmmm, i think it is just that simple. you were completely fine before she had to fly off-" gojo makes it a point to flex his wrist to stare at his rolex watch. "five hours ago. and you're already withering, loverboy. slowly declining in physical and mental health."

"i'm a fully grown adult. i'm fine." nanami says through gritted teeth, but it has no effect on gojo who is thoroughly enjoying (a) getting to be right and (b) teasing his best friend for being a hopeless romantic. to dig it in, gojo raises his eyebrows and puts on a pouty expression.

"are you sure, pookie? you don't want me to call her right now and tell her it's an emergency, that she needs to fly back to tokyo this instant?" gojo flashes his phone screen, where your contact is open under 'the better nanami'.

nanami practically lunges across the desk to try and get the phone out of gojo's hands, which gojo manages to dodge at the last second by jumping out of his seat. gojo's laughing so hard he doubles over, chest folded to his knees, and nanami's scowl only deepens.

"haha." nanami laughs along drily, clearly not amused. "anyways, it's a really important trip for her, so i don't want to be a bother. now get out, i have a meeting in 5 minutes."

it was going to be a long month without you.

DAY 4

the tension in the office is palpable, given what's at stake.

geto's been working backbreaking hours for the past month straight to pull the proposal together: an ambitious joint venture to combine the legal banking practice of nanami enterprises with the financial expertise of Japan's second biggest bank. everything had to be perfect. audits were rechecked, investment proposals rewritten, every piece of competition law finely tuned and picked over by the entire banking law team.

and nanami's fumbling during the investor pitch meeting.

it starts out small - like mispronouncing the head of the bank's name, which geto subtly corrects (by shaking the man's hand right after and saying it out loud correctly). losing track of where the specific sections of the agreement are. forgetting to bring a pen to the meeting, with shoko having to slide nanami one under the table and shooting geto a worried look.

'is he okay?' her glance seemed to read, to which geto shrugs in response.

truth be told, geto has no idea what's going on with his boss slash friend. he's worked for nanami for three years, and has never seen the blonde be anything less than textbook professional. every detail perfected, suit immaculately pressed, posture straight and elegant.

and now, the man in front of him still has the 'look' of a professional lawyer... but none of the attitude. instead, nanami looks uncomfortable in his expensive suit, adjusting his posture every few minutes and staring off into the vague distance during pitch decks. geto has to call nanami's name three times before the blonde realizes it's his turn to speak to the investors, and it takes every bone in geto's body to suppress a sigh.

"and so if we proceed as planned, i believe we could acquire the high street banks in this area for 4.7 million-"

"sorry for interrupting, but we were told that the valuation was 47 million. not 4.7." one of the investors cuts nanami off, a deepening frown on his face.

nanami's head whipped around to shoko, who nervously adjusts her blazer and adds that the correct figure should be 47 million as well. geto wordlessly slides open the bundle of documents to double check the accounts, then at nanami's pitch deck, and realizes that nanami has somehow managed to delete a zero.

fuck.

maintaining a poker face as nanami lets out a polite apology to the board, geto thumbs through the rest of the presentation whilst cross referencing with the financial accounts. all the figures are off by one zero in nanami's proposal, as if he didn't catch onto some malfunctioning code in his excel sheet.

the fear that runs up geto's spine is like nothing he ever felt before, and geto has to send a discreet text to gojo about the situation.

geto: "nanami somehow messed up all the figures for today's meeting with the investors. all figures are off by one zero."

gojo: "holy shit!"

gojo: "what do we do?"

geto looks at the blinking white screen, then at nanami's flushed face and the investors' clearly unamused expressions, before making a decision for the team.

geto: "idk, fire alarm?"

he's half joking but also half relieved when the fire alarm rings out across the building, and geto smoothly apologises to the investors for the sudden interruption and promises a prompt rescheduling of the meeting.

and the moment they're both outside, geto pulls nanami aware from the crowd of employees gathering outside the building and into a back alleyway that smells that smoke and grilled meat.

"jesus christ, nanami. what happened?" geto swears out loud, heart still pounding with adrenaline and anger.

nanami fists his hair in response, anxious legs pacing back and forth, before he stops and stares at gojo with the sorriest expression he can muster.

"god, i'm so sorry. i know you've been working on this merger for weeks now."

geto's jaw clenches, but it's hard to stay angry when he sees the pained look on nanami's face. the blonde stops pacing and sits down on a nearby bench, head in his hands, and geto feels his anger dissipate into thin air.

"what's going on, kento?" geto's voice drops into a concerned hum, sitting down carefully next to nanami. nanami's fingers brush through his now messy hair, wedding band catching the glint of the sunlight every few seconds, an anxious habit of his.

"i... i just can't seem to concentrate. o-on anything, lately." he admits, sighing. geto raises his eyebrows.

"any particular reason? this isn't like you, and i'm worried."

he places a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing in appreciation to make his support known. he watches as nanami's eyes flicker up to geto's very cautiously, as if debating with himself on whether to say something.

"i miss my wife."

the admission is soft, tender in the way its spoken but firm in the way nanami's face pulls together in tight pain and desperate longing. geto's worry melts away into something more fond, and nanami lets out an empty laugh.

"it's pathetic, i know. she's only been gone for a few days. but damn it, i-i can't sleep, i can't eat properly, i keep misplacing everything in my office-"

"why don't you call her?" geto gently suggests and nanami retracts.

"i don't want to bother her."

geto rolls his eyes playfully, nudging the blonde's shoulder.

"she's your wife. she signed up to being bothered by you for a lifetime."

"it's also a 13 hour time difference between tokyo and new york." nanami weakly reasons, but geto just whips out his phone and presses your number. "hey, what're yo-"

"geto?" your groggy voice rings out from the other side, and a flush of warmth spreads through nanami's body. your voice. he'd almost forgotten what your voice sounded like (he definitely hadn't, but it sure as hell felt like it) - gentle, warm, sweet like daisies in the summer rain. "is everything alright?"

"just peachy. oh, actually, i forgot something- nanami, you don't mind taking over for me do you?" geto expertly lies, passing off the phone to nanami too quickly for any attempts of escape.

"ken?" you mutter from the other side, slightly more awake. nanami cringes internally - knowing that it's 1am there - but can't help his shoulders from melting at the sound of your voice.

"my love. sorry, did we wake you?"

"it's alright. still having trouble adjusting to the timezone here anyways." you yawn on the other side, and he can practically envision your sleepy expression and the glow of your phone illuminating your face. better than any artwork, he believes. "how are you, babe?"

"tired - today was the day of the investor meeting for the merger."

"oh shit, really? how'd it go?"

nanami opens his mouth to answer, as suddenly the crowd of employees are directed to re-enter the building by a grinning gojo and a smug geto who winks at him from afar, forcing nanami to reconsider his answer on the spot.

"had to reschedule. fire alarm went off."

"the fire alarm?"

he can hear the panic in your voice and kicks himself for making you worry.

"false alarm, love. gojo's telling everyone right now that it's safe to re-enter the building."

"oh, that's good. i'm relieved, i don't want anyone to get hurt."

"i know, darling. promise everyone's fine and taken care of."

you hum on the other side, and he can hear you shifting in bed.

"even yourself?"

"hm?"

you giggle on the other side of the line, and nanami wishes he could record that sound to relive it during the day.

"yourself, ken. are you taking care of yourself?"

he straightens up at your question, embarrassed.

"of course i am. w-why wouldn't i be?"

"a little birdie told me my husband was missing me a bit too much."

"damn it, gojo." nanami covers the phone and swears, cursing his friend for ratting him out.

"and i told the birdie that there was no such thing as missing one's wife too much." you add fondly and nanami sighs into the receiver, before pulling away from the phone and noticing geto's phone is at 5%.

"geto's phone is at 5%, so i think i'll have to get going." nanami pauses, wanting to savour your voice one last time. "i miss you a lot, darling. but i'm so proud of you and all you're doing in new york right now. love you."

"love you so much, kenny. good night."

it physically pains nanami to have to end the call and give back the phone to geto, but he's glad he's managed to speak to you (even for a few minutes). geto smiles up at him, smug and satisfied.

"so? was i right or was i right?"

nanami sheepishly shrugs.

"...thank you, geto. i needed that."

"don't worry bout it. and hey, leave the pitch decks to me - go home early and sleep it off, alright? you still got 25 days to go till she's back."

the number sits heavy in nanami's heart - 25 days - as he tries to muster up a brave smile.

DAY 7

it's a sunday.

it would usually be his favorite day, a day reserved for just him and you: his beautiful wife who rises with the sunlight and smells like cinnamon and vanilla by the time he's brewing coffee in the kitchen. but today, when he reluctantly opens his eyes in bed, the spot next to him is empty. and the pillows don't smell like your shampoo anymore.

worst of all, when he pads out to the kitchen, there's no one to hum pop songs and flip pancakes with.

nanami barely registers the bitter black coffee on his tongue as he flicks over the morning newspaper, the information flying by his eyes with no real comprehension. he can feel a slight headache coming on from staring at his phone too late until 3am last night, rewatching videos of you on the honeymoon until exhaustion won over him.

god, is this how people who have military husbands feel like, he wonders? he just feels... beyond awful. like his whole soul has been sucked dry, the dull ache in his heart only worsening when he'd go to the bathroom and see your perfumes lining the counter, or open the fridge to see your favorite jam sitting untouched on the top shelf. the room is quiet save for the humming of the fridge and his breathing, and suddenly the space feeels far too empty.

the silence doesn't last very long when someone then knocks in rapid succession on the front door, followed by an obnoxious voice.

"NANAMIIIIIIIIIIIII IT IS ME, YOUR LOVERRRRRR-"

"shut the fuck up, gojo, it's 9am on a sunday." geto growls from next to him, as shoko chuckles.

"we brought food from the diner you like." shoko offers from the other side of the door, not knowing whether nanami will actually invite them in. a few awkward seconds pass before the door opens, and nanami's unimpressed face greets the three of them.

"we know you've been really down in the dumps for missing (y/n)-" gojo starts, and nanami's cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"i have not-" he starts, but shoko and geto roll their eyes in perfect sync.

"yes you have." all three of them respond simultaneously.

"i think it's cute." shoko offers, and gojo snickers from next to her.

"well, whatever it is, we're NOT letting you mope around in your apartment on such a nice sunday. so we've-"

"you have." shoko corrects, shaking her head sideways. "it was gojo's idea."

"excuse me, it's a team effort because you two eventually caved. anyways, we've planned out a whole fun day to help you distract yourself from your wife's absence!"

"i don't have a choice, do i?" nanami lamely responds as gojo barrels into the apartment past him, not even asking for permission to enter. geto nods in amusement and follows suit, and shoko offers him a half shrug and a small smile.

nanami pinches the gap between his eyebrows with his left hand, massaging the headache starting to form, but can't deny that it's nice to hear laughter and something other than his own thoughts in his apartment.

"fine. just- GOJO DON'T EAT ON THE COUCH!"

true to gojo fashion, nanami learns, the day is packed with an array of activities that stands in stark contrast to the usual slow and domestic day he'd have with you.

after a lavish breakfast (with gojo having ungodly amounts of sugar), gojo insisted on renting two seater bikes and looping around the park. then it was lunch at a soba place, a few hours at an arcade, browsing a bookstore, and then dinner with a movie at gojo's place.

"are you having fun?" shoko had asked quietly at the arcade, as geto and gojo argued over who had the higher score. "don't worry, i won't tell gojo."

nanami had let out a small sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets but couldn't help but hide his smile. it was the most relaxed he'd felt the whole week, and he hadn't felt the need to obsessively check his phone for any updates from you.

"yeah. i think... i really needed this. thank you."

shoko winked.

"you're welcome. we're always here for you, you know that right?"

now it's nearing 11pm and gojo excitedly presses stop play on geto's pick for the night - pulp fiction. geto complains, throwing up his hands, only for gojo to wave his protests off.

"hey, you won the rock paper scissors and picked the first movie! now that we sat through that, we have to sit through my favorite movie."

"god, not 'frozen' again." shoko groans into her hands, and gojo gasps in mock horror.

"it's not! we're actually going to watch 'love actually'."

nanami sits up straighter at the mention of the film. no one noticed the way nanami's face morphs momentarily into one of pain and fondness, geto being too busy arguing with gojo about the semantics of choosing the next film and shoko inspecting the popcorn bucket in her hands. but nanami's heart continues to throb with pain.

"back me up, nanami. it's a good movie, right? you've seen it before?" gojo shouts from across the room, flicking the lights off again. nanami wills himself to stay rock solid, forcing his head to nod in agreement.

"y-yeah. i've seen it. it's good."

it was more than good, in truth.

it was the film that he'd taken you to see as the first date. a local cinema, a shared bucket of popcorn, the sudden rain he had to shield you from with his coat.

alcohol.

nanami needs alcohol to get through this movie.

"gojo, do you have any alcohol in your fridge?"

gojo smirks.

"oh shit, is it a drinking night today? yeah, i got a bit of everything- let me know what you want."

and that is how nanami ends up squished between a bored geto and a mildly amused shoko, nursing his third bottle of beer for the night. the movie sounds muted, as if the actors are speaking under the water, as the memories of the date come rushing at him in full force.

"did you like it?" you'd carefully asked, blinking your eyes in the cinema foyer in an attempt to readjust to the bright lighting. the nearly empty popcorn bucket was hugged hazardously under your right arm, and nanami carefully removed it from your arm before binning it. he wanted to slide his own arm in between the gap, but wanted to respect your space, instead settling with walking side by side with you to the exit.

"of course, it's a classic."

you'd laughed, and it warmed his entire body: melodic, loud, just the right amount of you.

"what is it?" he'd asked, bumping his shoulder with yours. you'd shaken your head sideways, muffling your giggles with your hand.

"nothing, nothing. just the thought of nanami kento, heir and ceo of nanami enterprises, the biggest law firm in Japan.... being a secret rom com lover is a bit funny." you'd smiled at him so blindly, his heart skipped a beat. "guess there's a lot more to learn about you, kenny."

he'd smiled back just as bright.

"i guess there is."

as if on cue, thunder had roared and rain started pelting from the black inky sky. people dodged into nearby stores, dog walkers cursed under their breath, and cars started flipping on their windshield wipers.

"fuck, it didn't say it was going to rain today. did you bring an umbrella?" you'd asked as you opened the door, shielding yourself from the rain by standing under the cinema's roof. nanami's warm body had joined yours a few seconds later, his left hand hovering a few inches from yours.

"no. guessing you got here by train?"

"that's correct. but the station's a ten minute walk from here." you'd sighed, shrugging off your jacket when nanami's calloused hand gently stopped you.

"what're you doing?"

"taking off my jacket so i can shield myself from the rain?" you'd blinked up at him, so adorable and clueless. it was a slightly chilly april day, but he wasted no time in shrugging off his own coat and gently draping it over your head.

"your jacket's too pretty to get wet, sweetheart. use mine instead."

you looked so shy, so unsure of yourself, when your smaller fingers curled themselves around his coat. he'd let you have his coat forever, he decided, if you were to ask.

"but... but then your coat will get wet."

"better that then you."

and he meant it.

and he held your hand whilst the two of you ran through the empty streets, the wet cement illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlamps and the occasional headlights of the cars passing by. both of you were soaking wet by the time you and nanami were standing on the steps of the station, heart pounding and big smiles on your face.

"that was-"

"crazy." he'd finished for you.

"actually, i was gonna say the best day i've ever had." you'd said softly, and his heart thundered louder than the thunderstorm up ahead.

and he'd kissed you then and there.

"nanami, what'd you- oh my god are you okay?"

shoko's concerned voice shakes him out of the memory, and the feeling of something wet sliding down his face registers. the movie's suddenly been paused, and geto kicks gojo under the table for "making nanami cry."

was he really crying? nanami's hand comes up to brush against his cold cheeks, and it confirms to himself that he is crying.

a lot.

"god, i miss her so much." is all nanami can say, the effects of his fifth bottle of beer mixing with his dangerously suppressed emotions of missing you. shoko frowns and geto lightly pats nanami's shoulder, whilst gojo begins to panic.

"shit, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have picked a rom com. uhhh what do you wanna watch instead? howl's moving castle? mission impossible? shrek-"

"not. helping." geto dryly gets out, throwing the white haired man a deadly glare. nanami crumbles like a piece of paper, crying into his hands as he folds over himself, and shoko's hands start rubbing warm soothing circles on his back. she shifts her eyes to the side at geto, gesturing at him to get gojo out of the way, as she attempts to reign in nanami's tears.

"hey, it's gonna be okay. she'll be back in no time."

"no she's not. she's gone for another 3 weeks." nanami complains into his hands, drunk and crying. shoko suppresses a sigh, gently tapping his shoulder.

"i think you're feeling a little off because of all the alcohol and the lack of sleep, yeah? you'll feel much better when you wake up, okay? let's get you to bed."

it's a struggle to get the blonde to fall asleep, given that he refuses to go back to his house - saying it reminds him too much of you - but also as nanami is far taller and heavier than shoko. she struggles to prop him upright as gojo directs them to the guest room, and it takes both geto and gojo's help to gently lay the blonde giant onto the mattress and under the covers.

the moment the door closes behind them, shoko presses herself against the door and slides down onto the floor, exhausted.

"jesus. that man is whipped."

DAY 10

nanami absolutely cannot do this.

the lingering pain of missing your warm body next to him in bed, of seeing your shadows in the corner of his eye every time he walks into the office and passes the sofa where you like to lounge whilst reading files, of obsessively re-organising everything in his office to suppress the memory of you laughing every morning... has bled into a full blown illness.

hence why he's currently locked himself in his office, the blinds drawn completely tight to coat him in darkness, his blazer draped over his shoulders as a makeshift blanket whilst he stares blankly at the computer screen. his head's swimming with equations and dates that don't make any sense, and when his assistant came in half an hour ago to ask for his signature on a set of documents, he'd just grunted in response and honestly, isn't even sure if he'd signed the correct blank spaces before dismissing her.

his limbs feel like heavy weights and his head aches. there's no point to anything, he mopes. no point in answering to emails when you're not there to remind him to fix his posture mid-type. no point in heating up his lunch when it's not one of your meticulously cooked bento boxes, the rice shaped into a heart. no point in dressing properly with cufflinks and a tie and a blazer if you're not there to kiss his forehead, mumbling about how nice the color of his tie looks-

"sir, there's someone here to see you." his assistant's voice rings out from the other side of the door, and it sounds... smug, oddly.

nanami can't bring it in himself to care, dropping his head onto the wooden oak desk and staring at the floor. maybe if he doesn't respond, they'll go away, a childish part of him reasons. but as if sensing his immature response, his assistant just chuckles from the other side.

"i know you're in there, sir. i was just in there thirty minutes ago."

"i don't feel too well, irene. please ask them to come back another time." he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut. god, he just wanted to be in your embrace.

a second of silence passes before he hears the door being swung open, illuminating the room with light from the hallway.

"i'm hurt, ken."

no fucking way.

nanami stands up so quickly that his chair tips over, his wild eyes scanning the dark room before landing on your amused smile. you - the actual you, his darling wife - is standing in his office. in a checkered blazer and dress pants accentuating every dip and curve, smelling like roses and sunshine.

he stares, slack jawed, convinced he's gone insane. you aren't supposed to be back in tokyo for another 20 or so days.

he slowly rounds the corner of his desk, walking towards you carefully as your smile only widens.

"thought you'd be excited to see m-"

the rest of your sentence is swallowed by nanami's lips on yours, his hands immediately finding their place on the small of your back to pull you in closer. he kisses you with so much force and fervor that you're practically pushed against the nearest object - his desk - and the mahogany edge bites into your skin as he pushes you further against it, breaking the kiss only for a second to regain his breath before he's gripping you tightly and kissing you all over again. you taste like your cherry chapstick and nanami can't get enough of it, left hand traveling down to squeeze your waist-

"jesus fucking christ, nanami." geto grumbles from the entryway, as gojo covers geto's eyes with a spare folder. it's only then that nanami pulls away from you, cheeks bright red as he attempts to hide himself by tucking his head under the crook of your shoulder.

it also allows him to smell your perfume much better, and enjoy how your chest rumbles with laughter at geto's horrified expression.

"should get you two charged for public indecency." gojo teases, and nanami looks back up at your smiling figure, the confusion now settling in properly.

"wait, how'd you- why- when-"

"gojo called me." you grab nanami's left hand, tracing circles onto his skin and toying with his wedding band. "said you missed me so much it was driving everyone crazy."

nanami blinks at that comment.

"what?"

"apparently someone's been missing me so much they've been snappy at work, mixing up important numbers, and drunkenly crying over 'love actually'."

the murderous look nanami sends at gojo and geto is enough for the men to avert their eyes elsewhere, pretending to stare at a non existent spot on the floor, as your laughter only grows louder.

"it's alright, nami. i thought it was... sweet."

"disgustingly sweet, might i add." shoko pops her head into the office then, waving at you in greeting. "never seen a man deteriorate so fast from his wife being gone for just a week."

"don't you three have work to do? a lot of work, might i add?" nanami weakly adds, practically pleading with his eyes to be left alone with you. his three friends just laugh, before agreeing to give you two space: geto chuckles under his breath, shoko shakes her head sideways in amusement, and gojo winks and obnoxiously yells out that you owe him at least 3 kg worth of pastries from new york.

then the door is slammed shut, leaving him and his wife in silence once more.

"i can't believe you're here." he admits in the dark, not wanting to let go of you yet. his large arms come to wrap around your shoulder as he sits down onto a nearby chair, pulling you onto his lap. when you complain about the lack of lighting he flicks on a button that makes the curtains pull open automatically, and nanami swears there is no more beautiful sight in the world than the way your face is illuminated when the sunlight hits it. "what about your work?"

you sigh contently in his lap, letting your head roll onto his shoulder. you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed nanami's touch, his scent, his everything as well.

"said it was a family emergency and i was needed back in tokyo urgently. i'm sure the associates are equipped enough to handle the case whilst i'm gone." you sit up slightly and caress his jaw. "i'm sorry i couldn't come earlier, ken."

he quiets your comments with a light kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"doesn't matter. you're here now."

"that i am, you soft baby." you joke, poking him in the chest. but all he does is nuzzle into your touch.

"soft for you, darling. thought i was going crazy without you here. i'm not letting you go again, ever." he pouts like a child, and you laugh.

"ever?"

he shakes his head sideways.

"ever."

you raise your eyebrows.

"you know i'll be called overseas more than once, right?"

"doesn't matter. i'm coming with you then." he says it with such simplicity and finality.

"what? you can't do that, you- you're basically the boss of this place." you chuckle, patting his head lovingly.

"then i'll let gojo be interim CEO whilst i'm gone. or sell the company. or fake my own death and come with you to wherever you need to go."

he's joking, of course. but the tenderness in his gaze is real and it squeezes your heart with so much love you can't help but kiss the man silly all over again.

"i love you so much, you know that?"

"impossible." his eyes crinkle when he smiles, unabashed and unrestrained. "i love you more."

you're finally home.

and so is he.

a/n: ahhhhh i got this idea randomly whilst procrastinating on my japanese hw and it came out in like 3 hours! not sure if i'm happy with how it turned out but i love the idea too much not to post,,, sorry for the slight hiatus in posting, my entire life has been consumed by the fbi section chief/hotch!coded nanami fic i've been talking about on my blog for the past 2 weeks (did someone say multi part series??!!!) anyways. hope this came out somewhat okay and was fun to read! i especially love writing the dialogue for this fic because it's very chaotic and funny. alright love you all ty for reading this far if you did ~\(≧▽≦)/~