Mafuyu_

In the third year, you forgot to submit a "visual application" and they denied you once again. By this time you were starting to think the program was a scam and that there were just some creepy men behind the whole thing—tricking monster-fucking women into submitting intimate details about themself just for the hell of it.

It's not until this year that you realize this program was very much not a scam at all.

Your final attempt at getting into it was a success, resulting in that previously mentioned email that your eyes happily skimmed over. That, and you also had two other good friends who apparently had gotten accepted into it years ago, only deciding to spill the details of their experience now that you've been accepted.

"I had a great time when I went. Whatever you're thinking it is, I hope you know it's ten times better!" Yuki claimed. Apparently, she slept with some hybrid-wolf guy?

"No because I was actually upset they didn't send that one guy to me, y'know the one on the posters with the tentacles?" Your dearest Utahime had ranted. She got stuck with some dude with more eyes than arms—six to be exact—and evidently that turned her off from the whole experience.

Not that she didn’t go back a few times afterwards, though…

"Well, at least your monster had a face. I got a tentacle man but fuck, he was kinda boring since I was looking at a blank face the whole time." Your last acquaintance hummed in response to the previous statement.

There was a lot of information to take in and yet you were bright-eyed ‘n beaming with excitement upon listening to every little detail. This program asked its recruits for so much prior to acceptance due to the various things that could go oh-so-wrong.

After all, you were required to sign a waiver that said something about being okay with these tests possibly resulting in the loss of your own life. It was scary, sure. But you weren’t exactly thinking with your head whenever S.W.A.M. was involved.

Why would you be? One look at some hot, long-haired vampire who seemed to be the face of the program along with some other dark-haired brute with a freakishly long tongue, and your cunt was leading every decision of yours.

Not to mention the fact that this program housed all sorts of different types of monsters. Many were science experiments gone wrong and some were from entirely different worlds. And now that you were accepted into it, you'd finally be able to meet and sleep with one of them!

What could possibly go wrong?

——

"...Most have said it best if you follow their lead," Dr. Nanami Kento was in the middle of droning about while he led you to your designated "room of pleasure" or whatever he called it. "Some of our specimens here can be a bit... much to deal with, and if you'd like to walk out with the best experience possible, it is always advised that you let them do their thing and simply be compliant."

The two of you had been walking some lengthy hallway for what felt like hours now. Nanami was the first person to greet you upon your entry to the facility—which very much rivaled a prison on the outside, but looked to be a mix of a hospital and a hotel within its interior—and while you swear he's been walking you in circles, he's also explained to you a long list of rules that you'll need to keep in mind before you're to meet your monster.

All experiences in S.W.A.M. are unique and different. Even if two different people have slept with or been bred by the same monster, they both leave the program with two entirely dissimilar stories. 

Along the walk to your designated room, you passed by many others that gave you glimpses of how many differing species occupied this place. There were definitely a lot that looked nowhere near human, but there were also a considerable amount that seemed to be completely human.

Which Nanami clarified for you that they were certainly not.

At some point, the two of you had reached an elevator and after swiftly stepping onto it, Nanami calmly pressed the button for the twelfth floor. During this, you took notice of how some floors had names attached to them. The sixth floor was for hybrids, the eleventh floor was for the undead, and somewhere around the fifteenth floor included spirits and fae.

You naturally found all of this to be most fascinating, but in doing so, you missed the name of the floor the two of you were heading towards.

By the time the elevator creaked its way there, Nanami had let you step out first and then proceeded to remain in place with a stoic smile stitched across his face.

You swirled around with wide eyes, "Uh-, Dr. Nanami? Are you not coming with m—"

"Good luck," was the only, and last thing the man said to you before rapidly mashing at the lobby-level button to his right.

Then the doors shut in your face.

You stared at your slanted, shimmery reflection for a long moment before sighing and turning back around to the short hallway. There were three doors; one on the left that said Simurian, another on the right that read King of Curses, and the last one set in the middle which held your name on it.

You think your eyes stretched open impossibly wider upon seeing it.

Did all people get their own room like this? What the heck is a Simurian and just who the hell is the King of Curses? Why did Dr. Nanami leave you like that?? And what did he mean by good luck???

You were only here for sexualized testing, right?

Pushing all these questions of yours aside, you paced forward slowly. 

With every step you took, you couldn't help but notice how the door to your left seemed to be nearly ten feet tall. Over on your right, that door looked to be a few inches shorter but much wider.

Who or whatever occupied either room must have been freakishly huge. The thought of which makes you shudder before you finally slip into the human-sized door set for you.

Inside the room, you were met with a massive area. Everything looked as though it were twice your size—the bed, a table you end up walking past, a... a cuck chair(?), and a bunch of other stuff you didn't quite familiarize yourself with.

What caught your attention the quickest—aside from the large chair near the bed—was a file that was laid out on the only normally sized piece of furniture in the room, a dresser.

Curiously, you swiped up said file and were quick to open it. One of the papers inside fluttered out and elsewhere as soon as you did so, but you didn't pay it any mind since the first page inside captured all of your attention rather quickly.

It was a profile for someone named Dabura Karaba.

A picture of the man-, or, alien—as you come to know within the next few seconds of reading—sits up near the top left corner of the page.

There's a shit ton of information about him plastered all throughout the rest of the paper, going on to extend towards the back of it, and even a few more pages afterwards. But you skim over the majority of that just to read the details listed about his genitals.

Gross Morphology: The phallus is retractile, measuring at approximately 7-9 cm in total length (base to tip), with a circumference of 6.5 cm at mid-shaft—when flaccid. The organ falls under the spectrum of beige in color [HEX: #c2b6a1 for reference — intermittently a hue lighter or darker dependent on lighting], with twisting veins that pulse at roughly 20 bpm—presumably reflecting circulatory activity. The hemisphere of the glans measure at about 5.7 cm in width, and secretes a viscous, petroleum-like lubricant (pH 7.5-8.0). The membrane is. . .

You think your mouth is watering by the time your eyes return to their skimming, one too many scientific words printed out across the paper for your concern.

That is, until the word erectile seems to stand out in its bold letters before you.

Erectile Dynamics: Upon arousal (typically triggered by pheromonal, faint tactile, or visual stimuli) the glans reaches hues up to HEX: #7f737c — mimicking that of a flushed state. The phallus has then been measured to broaden rapidly, extending the full, non-curved, erect length of—

Unfortunately for your curiosity, your reading is cut quite short when the loud sound of something thumping against the wall causes you to flinch and redirect your eyes elsewhere. Though, you’re pretty sure you saw double digits following those last few words you read.

When you turn, you're met with the same being you've been reading about, who's currently busy with silently cursing your tiny doorframe for hitting the left tip of one of his horns. The alien is hunched over when your eyes make contact with him, but that changes within the next coming seconds as he steps into the room and quietly shuts the door behind him—clearly unaware of your gaze being on him.

The moment his eyes—all three of them—glide your way, you flinch like an idiot and let that document drop out of your hands as if you weren't supposed to be touching it in the first place.

Dabura is a brooding-looking creature, to say the least. He's got a great deal of staggering feet to his height, easily exceeding some inches over seven feet tall. You believe you feel a short shot of pain in your neck just from the angle of which it takes to peer up at his face.

Despite being an alien, he carries a humanoid frame and possess quite the lean, but well defined, musculature. The three eyes he had slipping along your build all carry irises with an redish-orange color in them. There's a pair of long, curved horns—that you'd love to hold onto later—which extend upwards 'n outwards from the side of his head.

You're gulping down a thick sum of nerves as your gaze travels to the expanse of his body in sync with the way he was doing to you. There's a plethora of dark markings plastered all along his neck, arms, and shoulders, which form these uneven, asymmetrical patterns out across his smooth skin. That, and there's even another marking encircling that third eye of his.

Which you note hasn't moved from your face from the moment he noticed you despite his other pair having carried right along...

Your ogling comes to an end just as you're admiring his elongated earlobes from where you are, catching how they run down to his abdomen and are adorned with more piercings than you can count.

"I presume you're the human I am to mate with?" His voice sends a cold chill straight down your spine. Not because it was scary or anything, but simply due to the fact that no human could ever possess such a soothingly deep baritone to their words in the way he does.

You gulp loudly enough for him to hear and the sound makes his head tip over just an inch as if curiosity has struck him. "Y-Yes," The first stutter out of your mouth already makes you want to find the nearest window and ju-, "That would be me, yes. Which means you must be..." You halfway saved yourself of embarrassment until you realized you'd dropped that file with all his information and somehow managed to forget his name already.

Shit, this whole thing is going poorly already and neither of you have even taken your clothes off!

Scrambling to the papers that fell earlier, you hurry to swipe some of them up in search for a name and don't even notice the way he stalks over to assist you until a large hand comes into view just above yours. Then you lift your chin up and the alien is crouched right in front of you while looking down.

Up close, you realize just how intimidating he really is. It was bad before when he was a few steps away from you but now that he's up close, you think you can feel your heart beat pounding against your ears as if to give you an audio representation of your climbing anxiety.

You'd spent four years trying to get into this program and now you finally had a monster (technically alien) in front of you but the only thing you could feel was fear instead of excitement. What a bummer—

"Dabura," The alien murmurs in a contrastingly gentle tone, bass consuming all bits of space in between the two of you and weirdly settling down that anxiousness of yours to replace it with something much warmer. Then all his eyes flick up to meet with yours again and his demeanor is strictly calming as he hums, "There's no need for papers to tell you my name when I am right in front of you."

You blink, letting the word, "Right," tumble out of your mouth all softly. Snapping out of your flustered stupor, you look upwards and notice the faintest scuff on his left horn—which reminds you of the noise you heard when he first came in. Then you redirect your hand to reach up towards it, "Did you hit your horn on the way in?"

"I did,” Dabura cuts off your traveling hand by grabbing onto your wrist and holding it a few inches away from their destination.

"Are they sensitive to touch?" You ask harmlessly, batting your lashes at the creature.

His expression falls impossibly duller, eyelids lowering as an unamused frown takes over his lips, "Every human asks me this, no."

You immediately raise a brow as if unconvinced, "If that's true then,” He sees the way your fingers wiggle before you go to move your other hand, “May I-"

His free hand shoots over to grasp at your other one as his eyes widen slightly. Grumbling, "No." with more firmness to it in hopes you’ll stop with your attempts at feeling on his horns.

Then you pop a pout, "You're no funnnn.”

The alien stares at you for a long moment, taking you all in just as you’d done earlier. You’re far prettier than any other human he’d been sent so far, and he feels his heart doing something weird each time you make a surprising advance to touch him.

But even so, he’s not about to let you get into something you clearly don’t quite understand yet. "Unless you should like to begin mating now," Dabura explains lowly, steadily moving your hands down and towards your lap, "No, you cannot touch them."

A smug smile breaks out onto your face and it makes his brows twitch. He watches as you quickly break out of that momentarily timid shell, "Oh, so they are sensitive!" you exclaim.

"They are not, they just-,” He cuts himself off and shuts his eyes, moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he exhales strongly, “Human."

Your eyes roll, "I have a name too, y’know-"

"Do you wish to be bred against every available surface in this room?" Dabura interrupts, hoping to catch you off guard just as his initial appearance did.

Unfortunately for him, he’s in the presence of the world’s most eager human.

"Do you want my honest answer to that?" You ask with an unfairly cute grin on your face.

"I-,” He chokes whilst returning his eyes to you, “Pardon?" You act like you didn’t say anything unordinary and blink innocently. In which he’s left to let his shoulders slump a bit and begrudgingly say, "I am curious, yes. Answer me honestly."

That’s when you place your hands on the floor and lean closer to him rather cat-like, causing him to lean back out of shock and nearly fall completely on his ass despite being almost twice your size. "I would love if you fucked me against every surface,” You tell him with this little sparkle noticeable in your eyes.

In the time Dabura has been apart of the program, he can’t say he’s ever encountered a human quite as… enthusiastic as you. Plus, your sentence came out far more vulgar than his had—something he takes note of.

Which is exactly why his next words leaves him slowly, tone etched with concern, "...You appeared frightened by me just mere minutes ago."

"Yes,” You agree before looking down at the way he’s managed to lean back enough to nearly be positioned under you, “And now I'm aroused—in some places this is could even be called scarousal."

Dabura feels like you’re more of the foreign creature in the room as opposed to himself by this point. Letting his brows scrunch up, "I don't believe that's a word-"

"You're an alien, you only know so much,” You hush out in this purring tone that catches him off guard. Then you lift one of your hands and move to tap your index against one of his many, many abs.

His breath hitches and his lips twitch—threatening to smile from the experience of being teased by you.

Dabura’s got two eyes focused on the soft taps of your finger and the remaining one fixated on your face as he utters, "I like you, human."

"Thank you, alien.” You reply, sliding your finger over and tracing a few of his abs just to smile at the way he flinches under your touch. God, for a creature much larger than you and all intimidating, he sure was sensitive to the smallest of things. “I think I like you t-"

"May I taste you?" Dabura requests, throwing your entire focus off the rails.

"What?" You choke as an immediate throb feels out for your attention from in between your legs. Then you remember that he’s still a different species, and find yourself instinctively pulling away cautiously, "You mean like, sexually, right…?”

He snorts and your heart skips a beat at the realization he finds you most amusing when you’re confused. "Unless you have a preference for being devoured in a literal sense,” Dabura reaches for your wrist once more and pulls you closer, letting your palm meet his abdomen as he husks out a careful, “Yes."

"O-Oh. I mean, if that’s the case then of course." You agree with that same twinkle from earlier returning into your irises. Though, Dabura doesn’t miss the way your expressions vocalize your thoughts before your mouth does, "Wait, Dr. Nanami mentioned something about this testing being primarily for breeding.” You recall, moving away from the alien to stand up. “Eating me out will won’t really have anything to do with-"

"It will help." He insists as he too shifts around to bring himself up onto his feet. Then he gives you this look that has your thighs drawing nearer to one another, "And I'm sure that doctor of yours also mentioned how you are to listen to me."

You can’t exactly refute that, "Well-, wait, how do you know that?!"

Rolling his eyes only once as if he’d grown tired of this useless back and forth, Dabura presses forward and tutts, "You worry yourself with the wrong things."

After which, and before you have a moment to debate with him even further, he’s bent down to swoop you up ‘n over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing! One arm is tightly set around your thighs and the other comes over to place a hand against the curve of your ass to support you.

You feel all warm again as you realize how high up in the air he has you, considering how tall the alien stands. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off within the next few seconds by your body flopping down onto the bed carelessly, a soft oof lofting out of your mouth instead. You then shoot your inquisitive gaze upwards again and open your mouth to question him further, but find yourself rather speechless from the angle of which he now stands.

It was one thing to see him from afar, another to see him practically beneath you, but above you? Fuck, you couldn’t even help the way your thighs clamped shut—arousal daring to damp itself at your core.

Dabura is looking down at you for a quiet moment before drawing a hand up to his chin in thought and muttering, “Perhaps I should have tossed you the other way…” 

You know you’re supposed to be following his lead but it’s a bit difficult to do that when all he’s said is that he wanted to taste you, “Huh? What are you-“

“Flip over,” He orders flatly, barely adding on, “Please,” after noticing the way you’d begun to glare at him. 

You’re slow to do exactly that, and feel awkward in your every move—being watched so closely by some alien you’ve hardly gotten to know wasn’t exactly what you were expecting from this whole thing. You don’t know why, but you thought this process would be a lot more-

“I’m going to undress you now,” Dabura warns, his hands having met with the fabric at your hips.

You freeze before regaining your thoughts and then glancing back at him from over your shoulder, “I really don’t think this part is necessary for the-“

He interrupts you with an unintentionally rude sigh—as if your extra communication is the problem here and not his lack thereof—and moves his hand to the center of your back before applying pressure. The weight from his palm forces your upper half down against the mattress. Your face smushes right into the sheets and you let out a frustrated grumble in response to his curtness. 

Then you could almost hear the smile in his words as he asks, “Is this the best you can arch?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice is muffled but he could make out what you were saying quite clearly.

Grinning to himself, “Your arch,” He repeats, biting back a snort, “Is this as good as it gets?”

You couldn’t tell if he was taunting you like this on purpose just to get a rise out of you or if he was being sincere but either way it was starting to annoy you. So much so that you lift your head a little and scoff, “How about I arch my foot into your a-ah! Hey,” Unfortunately, your words whisk out into a breathy sound rivaling a moan.

Dabura had deduced that right then, in the middle of your complaints, it’d be best to swipe his thumb against your crotch—bringing friction to your cunt through the few layers of fabric.

“For a human so intuitive, and uncooperative, you are quite wet.” He points out—making you furrow your brows as you wonder how the hell he figured that out from only one little touch. It’s not like you were leaking through your-, “What caused this, I wonder.”

With a bratty frown on your face, you pull your hips away from him slightly—not to reject his touches but simply to torture his desire to do so, “Not you, asshole.”

“Mmh.” Dabura is fully amused now. He’d never encountered a human quite like you. “Seems I forgot to add liar into that list,” He says playfully.

You gasp, “Excuse me-“

Your pants getting tugged down swiftly enough to cut your words off again, cool air slapping against your naked skin rather quickly.

“My, my…” Dabura gawks lightly. “You know, I’ve never tasted human pussy before.”

“Eh?” Your head pops up from the sheets and you look back over your shoulder, “You mean you’ve never given oral before?”

Almost sheepishly and in a stiffened manner, the alien shakes his head. “Many denied me from doing so, but you… You seemed so excited to mate with me, I only assumed you’d enjoy this just as much as I would.”

“Well-“

“And considering how…” The thick of his thumb presses in between your folds, rubbing against the fabric of your panties sluggishly, “…wet you are,” Then Dabura releases a parched sigh. “Why, it’d be improper of me not to get a taste. This entire program is based on specialized testing, yes? Perhaps your cunt will take my seed best after being thoroughly licked.”

Talk about giving you fancy excuses just to eat you out…

You suppose you couldn’t blame him for wanting to plaster his tongue in your juices—after all, he did just say no other human allowed him to do so. Now, that does make you curious since Nanami specifically informed you to listen to your monster’s whims.

Perhaps he’d only done so based on this one’s past experiences? And that ‘good luck’ he gave you… what was that all about?

——

None of these questions of yours get answered anytime soon but they’re forgotten rather quickly with the way Dabura’s tongue had so feverishly met your twitching folds from beyond the layer of cotton that lay in the way.

You suppose he didn’t care much to move them aside just yet, as he seemed to enjoy toying with the material and liked the way you squirmed whenever he sucked it into his mouth—the raw feel of his plush lips grazing your bare cunt.

Even his decision to eat you out from the back left you curious. Hell, everything this damn alien did had you doused in concern. But of course, he hadn’t spared you a moment to dwell on any of them.

Especially not with those distracting grunts he let out by the time he finally peeled your panties down your clammy legs—hands gripped tightly onto your thighs to keep you spread open at the perfect angle for his tongue to lap inward.

“Mmmgh, yesyes,” Dabura groans, “Such a-, mmh, tasty lil’ thing.” His words slathered in between your pussy lips at varying angles, adding to each flicking movement of his tongue. 

“Dabura,” You moan just as his mouth plucks away for a split second long enough for his teeth to bare. Then angles down just to nibble at your inner thigh for no direct reason other than wanting to feel you squirm against his hands. “I-I still don’t think you’re supposed to-, ngh!”

Again, you’re cut off by his actions—his mouth having returned to your poor, leaky entrance to swab over with his tongue. Then his hands pried your legs further open in an attempt at feeling your labia peel apart even more, tongue hot ‘n aching for more and more of your slick. You’re unsure of what exactly would satiate the alien’s thirst for you when he was already thrusting the majority of his oral muscle in between your walls.

Humans didn’t eat pussy like this, naturally. Not only was there a foreign movement to the way he fucked his tongue into you but the added factor of Dabura being clueless with his every move had you dazed. You wanted to tease him for the way he’d waddle his tongue around your clit for a second too short but he always seemed to make up for it by wiggling it deeeep into your pussy directly after.

It was almost like he wanted to smear your own taste around.

“What was that?” Dabura eventually mumbled against your sappy folds, letting you gush against his lips as he spoke, “I couldn’t hear you over my talkative girl down here.”

Your legs twitch as if to close but it’s to no avail. All while your voice has pitched off into whine after whine, “Y-Your?”

The alien pulled his mouth off of you after one more suctioning pop! and then sported yet another tiny grin, “Whilst you’re in this room, yes.” A fat glop of spit spanked out across your hole next and he moves his thumb to fuck his salive inward, “Mine.”

“O-Oh.” Your jaw flails open some and you feel yourself drooling from the instant he starts feeding his thumb to your cunt. It’s only one finger but fuck, nothing could quite compare to it.

Dabura tipped his head aside as he twirled his thumb around your insides, “You seemed to like that,” He pointed out hotly, breaths fanning into your skin, “Being called mine.“

Your hips did that thing they did earlier when you attempted to flee from the pleasure he’d provided for you, “I do, but-, hahh.. none of this is important for the-“

“Oh hushhh, woman,” Dabura drawls out, fully bored of hearing you remind him about how eating you out has nothing to do with breeding you. “…Allow me to have this in peace, won’t you?” He pulls his thumb out of your cunt and spits once again before tapping at the saliva—mimicking a spanking motion against your hole.

After that, you give up on your arguments. Partially because Dabura decides to replace his thumb with two stretching fingers, and also because he seems to realize he can stimulate you rather greatly with only one hand—digits lodged neatly into your entrance while his thumb runs across your glossy clit.

Of which he’s taken quite the liking to. One could even say he grows fond of the gorgeous bundle of nerves, drawing all sorts of shapes around it and loving the feel of it jumping whenever his other fingers curl into that spot against your inner walls you adore so much.

You’re brought to not one, not two, and most certainly more than three orgasms from his fingers alone. And which each one, you try—you really, really do—to remind him of what you’re here for, but he ignores you each time.

Eventually Dabura finds himself in this drunken state, having his slicked fingers biting into your skin while he devours your cunt sluggishly with his whorish mouth.

Moaning, “S’good,” as his tongue tickles in somewhere deeper than it had previously—almost as if the damn thing were growing! “So sloppy, fuuuck,” The last curse exits his throat in a whine and by this point his hips have been eagerly bucking against the massive bed. “I love the way your pussy feels on my tongue,” He babbles, grinding his hard cock down against the mattress—rocking the entirety of the furniture in the process. 

Now, even though you’ve been occupied with having your cunt licked to utter numbness, you couldn’t ignore how needy Dabura’s other appendages seemed to be for you.

You knew the moment he got hard based on how much he adjusted himself against the bed. It was like the erection he carried in between those loose fabrics of his was a hindrance to him—oozing in precum excessively from the plump head and aching to dive in between the same lips he’d been lapping at.

His tongue is kissing at your clit right when he’s about to cum from doing so, but his orgasm is cut embarrassingly short by the way your room door flings open.

The poor door slams into the wall and Dabura lets out a very adorable yelp of surprise in between your legs.

So much for that intimidating aura of his, huh…

Even so, the sound he lets out, along with his flinching are both disregarded as he focuses back on the task at hand. He’s a little lazier with his feasting since he realizes the two of you have some company now but, again, this doesn’t stop him.

“You greedy fucking alien,” A new voice hoots out deeply, shucking the door away from the wall it slammed into just to shut it properly.

“Mmmnh, Sukuna, you ah-,” Dabura pauses his words to the newly entered monster just to sluuuurp! you right up one more time. A wet, sloppy smile spilt out across his lips, “You must come taste this. It’s like-“

“I know what good pussy tastes like, no need to explain it to me.” Sukuna cuts off, stomping his way into the room with his four eyes all fixated onto you. Pink brows furrowing, “I was a human prior to becoming this,” He adds on with a wave of his hand in Dabura’s direction, “Now move over.”

“…A bossy one, I bet.” The alien breathes out sassily, not paying the man any mind whatsoever and instead playing with the lips of your cunt by pulling them apart and then letting them fall back naturally after lifting his thumb away.

Ignoring his snarky remark, Sukuna ends up shoving poor Dabura out the way and letting his lower set of hands meet the purchase of your hips. One of his upper palms comes down to smack across your ass, making you flinch away from your previously dumbed-out state.

You lift your head and glance back, eyes met with a new creature that causes your jaw to fall open all stupidly. “A-And you are?”

Sukuna seems immediately ticked off by your lack of awareness, shooting a look over to Dabura and ignoring your question entirely. “What have you been up to with our toy so far?”

Toy? Surely he wasn’t talking about you…

“I’ve only licked her a few times,” Dabura claims—knowing all too well that few is beyond an understatement.

Sukuna seems pleased to hear that regaurdless. Sporting a haughty smile, “Have you?” He purrs before gripping onto the fat of your ass and pulling your cheeks apart to steal a glance at how swollen your folds are now, “Mh. That explains why she’s so puffy down here.”

Your face is still resting against the bedsheet but that doesn’t hinder you from mumbling, “M’not puffy…”

“Cute,” Sukuna comments shortly as he speaks as though you weren’t in the room with him. “She’s fucked-out already.”

“M’not,” You huff a bit louder this time, angling your rather wobbly arms to push yourself up on all fours.

You crane your head to get a full look at him, blinking past the blur of pleasurable tears that have built up along your lashline to take all of him in. Now, Sukuna was quite the sight for sore eyes.

While he was a bit shorter than Dabura in height, he surely made up for it in just about everything else. He had dark markings splayed out across his skin just as the alien did—but there was a clear difference in them. He also carried four eyes instead of the three you’d only just grown used to, all of which were red in hue and ever-so-glaring when met with yours.

There was a smirk on his face that never seemed to leave, stretching his pinkened lips out as if every fiber of his being were better-, or greater than you in every way imaginable. You wouldn’t call it smugness per-se, but there was something rather gloating about the way he carried himself. 

You could only see so much of him with the way he was positioned behind you, having taken Dabura’s place entirely and left the alien to lay on the bed somewhere to your left. Even so, you did notice that Sukuna had two of everything except legs.

He had a bulky stature, muscles bulged and stretched out across his limbs. Your eyes felt as though they had little hearts in them upon meeting the mouth stretching across his stomach. It should’ve been grotesque to look at considering the way it moved all freakishly and almost carnally.

The massive tongue would lull out to lather across his lips and you’d get a hint of sharp teeth within your view each time he did so.

Up until that same tongue extended to swipe across just about everything in between your legs. “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind this,” He’d said in response to your almost forgotten words.

Then you felt the slippery wetness draaag against the backs of your thighs, your jittery-spread pussylips, and even your ass with the way Sukuna took one greedy lick. 

Your eyes bulged out all wide in reaction. The sight of which encouraged him to watch the way your expression contorted up as he focused the rounding tip of his stomach-tongue onto your cunt, bucking in dankly against it.

“Hnngh-, fuck.” You moaned before pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth and letting your back arch again, “W-What is your guys’ obsession with-, ohgod..”

The sweet sound of your voice was drowned out in your own pleasure as Sukuna’s tongue performed the same dances Dabura’s lengthy one had done just a moment ago.

“Poor thing,” Sukuna mocked, pouting at you to mirror the one sewn into your lips, “That dumb alien hasn’t given you any cock yet, has he?”

Your torso ended up falling once again as your hands went grabbing and tugging at the sheets to brace yourself for the full, greedy feel of his tongue. Then you shook your head in response and whimpered something along the lines of no.

Sukuna shot Dabura a look immediately. “Waited for me, didn’t you?” He taunted.

The alien no longer seemed amused and reciprocated Sukuna’s looks with a flat, irritated expression, “No.”

The pink-haired man rolled his eyes. “Mh. No matter, I see why you were occupied here for so long.” His attention returned to you and he found it most pleasing to watch you try to scurry further up the bed in an attempt at escaping that blinding pleasure his dewy tongue was gifting you with. “She is rather tasty.”

Even as you arched and moaned all over the place, you still managed to return to your focus of why you were here in the first place. There was no way you were about to let these two monsters make a pocket pussy out of you and only use their tongues with you!

“Can you just-, mmmph!” It’s quick that you learn Sukuna has even less of a patience than Dabura as one of his many, massive hands come to the back of your skull and push your face into the sheets.

He’s peering down at the way you wiggle your body in response, feeling pleasure begin to overstimulate your every nerve as his tongue invades every spongy spot of yours. “Has she been demanding all this time?” Sukuna asks the alien who seems quite bored now.

Dabura raises his eyebrows, surprised that Sukuna is acknowledging him again, “Yes, I believe she’d like to be bred.” He states, pointing out the obvious.

“Awh, too bad these tests are hardly for a human’s curiosity and primarily for our enjoyment.” The pink-haired man exhales—jerking his tongue back ‘n forth and backkk ‘n forthhh against the entirety of your soddened pussy, clinging to your clit and schlepping it around with his every move.

“Sukuna,” Dabura blinks, his eyes stuck on the motion of the man’s insistent tongue. He almost feels like his own was inadequate in comparison. “I do not believe you’re supposed to-“

Another cry is heard from you and the two are quickly distracted by the way your nails are beginning to tear at the bedsheets. Ah, Sukuna only then realizes that his tongue might just be too much for you after however long Dabura had his own on you.

Leading him to feel bad for you and gesture your way whilst directing his words to the alien at your left, “Hush her up, will you?”

Dabura frowns for the nth time. He didn’t much care to be ordered around by Sukuna like this.

…But that didn’t stop him from listening to each order he was given.

Which is how he ends up with his mouth against yours while Sukuna satisfies his incessant taste for you. 

——

That continued on for… heavens know how long. 

All three of you lose track and the only thing you can recall is the mixed feel of Dabura swallowing up your moans and Sukuna using his stomach mouth to play with your pussy like some toy.

It’s like you were the test subject in the room—not them. They both treated your body as if they’d never felt a human before or something. Which was weird considering the two of them have had their fair share of these tests before.

While Dabura was kissing you, his hands twitched with a need for exploration, soon traveling your body and fondling with your soft breasts. Every part of your body was left either marked or swollen from their many touches or bites.

And you don’t even remember how or when but you believe you were positioned on top of Dabura while Sukuna remained where he was behind you at some point. Because of this tangled position, Dabura was able to wrap his arms around you and keep you perfectly in place as Sukuna rubbed one—of his two—cocks in between the valley of your ass.

Within this position, the alien was beneath you with his own lengthy dick freed from the restricting fabrics of earlier—tugging at his shaft whilst feeling you squirm against him and whimper into his mouth.

That went on until both creatures had painted your stomach and your spine with their seed.

But, that wasn’t even where things really began.

No, no, things started—in your mind—when they let your body roll over from in between theirs and you were left to watch with dazed eyes as Sukuna grabbed at Dabura’s face and tugged him up. Then, erect cocks freed and tapping against one another upon all the movement, the two had exchanged one slow kiss in the name of “sharing your taste”.

You didn’t know what to make of it, really. 

Was it hot? Well, duh. But for the most part you were wondering if this is what both of them had wanted the entire time.

Were you just some ploy in this little game of theirs? Is this what Dr. Nanami had meant when he told you good luck?? Or—

The loud, prominently wet sound of their lips detaching from one another catches your ears as it rings throughout the entire room. When you look at their faces, you note how softened Dabura’s features seem to be. His eyes seem utterly desperate to please as they veer upwards to meet Sukuna’s hardened expression based on the angle of which the two were.

Then Sukuna lifts a hand to wipe away drool from the corner of Dabura’s lips, cracking yet another smirk before looking over to you. “You’ve got my poor alien whipped, human. I’m impressed.”

You stare dumbfoundedly, “Huh?”

Sukuna snorts, “Can’t you see it?” Gripping at Dabura’s chin, he turns his face over for you to look at. “There’s nothing in this head of his aside from you. You should be proud of yourself.”

You chew on your bottom lip again out of fear of saying the wrong thing in response, moving your gaze onto Dabura who is in fact just as whipped as Sukuna described him to be—eyes glazed over with lust and barely wiped away drool staining the side of his mouth.

When you and the alien make eye contact, his pupils seem to dilate and his cock is twitching all over again. He hadn’t the words to describe it, but from the very moment he saw you standing in this room, he was left entranced by you.

Chuckling, Sukuna releases Dabura from his grasp and then pulls away. “I suppose it’s time we give you what you want, yes?”

Now your eyes were lighting up, “Please?”

“Manners, how cute.” Sukuna hums before running a hand through his hair with one hand and motioning for you to follow him with another. “Come, let me place you in the most effective position."

Within the next few minutes, you’re hauled up into a pair of the man’s sizable arms, legs straggled out within his hold as your pussy is left to drip ‘n spill slick out all over the floor. You were a mess but the two monsters accompanying you weren’t fairing any better.

Dabura’s still sat on the bed in a foggy state of arousal, the plummy head of his cock waving in the air as it globed with honeyed plashets of cum. He was sitting there in his own disorder, unable to move until he made eye contact with your unfairly pretty pussy again.

The sheeny gloss from your arousal webbed out ever so beautifully against your lips, hole pulsing softly as it begged to be filled properly. Tongues wouldn’t satisfy you anymore, that much was clear.

Sukuna’s peering over your shoulder as he holds you up like some trophy, “Don’t tell me you’re too pussydrunk to move, alien.” He chastises, “Come breed her with me before she runs out of stamina on us.”

Dabura snaps out of his momentary torpor and staggers up on his feet, quickly looming over the two of you in the next coming seconds. Then he brings a finger to your chin to tip your face further up and his voice is a small whisper, “Tell me something first…”

You bat your damp lashes at him in that same probing manner he’d grown to admire, the sight of which makes his heart feel weird again.

“How exactly did you prepare for this? I’m curious,” He asks.

You’re still hardly lucid so, your voice is at some cockdrunken pitch as words slide out of your throat, “I rode a uh-, t-thirteen inch dildo a couple times,” You explain, giggling in thought shortly after. “Took a while to get used to…”

Sukuna nuzzles into the crook of your neck like a big cat, “And you believe that has properly prepared you for three cocks? Fuck, you’re dumber than I thought—I like that.”

You grumble something short of a curse at him but the sound only makes him smile against your skin. Then Dabura is finally closing the distance between all of you and you feel his tip sloping up against your sex.

Few words are exchanged in the next few moments as the two decide it’s time to finally stuff you full.

The first dick that slides into you is one of Sukuna’s—the lower one—which is absurdly thick as it slots into your gushy hole. Following this is Dabura’s eager cock, which has throbby veins bumping against every crevice of your insides.

By this point you’re being streeeetched all the way the fuck out and think it damn near impossible to fit all three lengths inside you at the same time. One alone was more than enough to have your eyes crossing but two and eventually three?

Oh, you didn’t think you’d be able to feel your legs come next morning.

Though this was of very little concern to you. You came into this program to be bred by monsters and that’s exactly what you were determined to do—no matter how much your poor hole would have to be stretched open in the process.

And it didn’t help that all three cocks just kept bulging and twitching inside you, smooching over one another as they explored the inner depths of your sweet cunt. Something short of a cockdrunk smile was painted across your lips but you couldn’t really feel it.

The only thing you could feel were the three fat dicks wadding their way into you—along with the hot breaths all over both sides of your neck. Then came the gobbets of cum that filled your insides to the brim. So much so that it’d spilt out of your puffed labia and sogged onto the floor beneath the three of you.

They didn’t stop there though.

No, no, your monsters were just as determined as you were so they kept on with their uneven thrusts—Sukuna bucking forward each time Dabura sleethed his hips back, all whilst bouncing you up and down like a true fucktoy.

No other experience could quite compare to how used this one left you feeling, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Their mixed seeds schliiiicked ‘n sloshed around your gummy walls, sure to take after this prolonged session of feral fucking with the excuse of sexualized testing to mask it.

It’s not until you hear Sukuna and Dabura exchanging hushed words that you finally get an answer to at least one of your many questions.

“And if-, shit.. if that doesn’t work…” Sukuna’s steady humming towards the alien, “Dabura..”

“Yes?”

“I shall have to breed you next.”

A loong, awkward silence stretches on uncomfortably before he chokes in response. Batting his lashes, “What.”

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Encouraged enough to wrap your fingers around his horns and get a good grasp on them while drawing your hips high up above his length, that sloppy wet tip of his slipping out of you with something gooey oozing out of the centered slit already.

"Fuck—damn human—I said.. wait," Dabura attempts to warn again. His voice comes out slow ‘n heavy, lacking the previous sense of mockery and amusement he had when this whole thing started. The syllables used to nastily glide off of his tongue but now they’re falling out with an almost pathetic rasp. Hands sliding up to hold your waist firmly, grasping at every stretch of skin available there, he then squeezes as if to warn you or something.

Do you heed said warning?

Fuck no.

Your grip on his horns gets even tighter and he's still trying to tug his head away from you, something suddenly fogging up his gaze as you maintain your hold on him and plop your warmth back down onto his firmly-standing cock. “Let go,” He groans deeply, the sound vibrating against his inked throat. Ignoring the poor alien, you smile and arch forward all sensual-like,

“Mmnh, see? I knew you could make other faces!” You exclaim all excitedly as you drink in the sight of his eyes failing to uphold that hardened look from before.

He couldn't keep up with his glares no matter how hard he tried, not when you've got your palms rubbing up pressed against his horns. No one ever touches them, especially not in a situation like this but, here you are.

He should've known better than to agree with you about doing all this for science or-, whatever bullshit it was you uttered to him before all this. “I demand you release my horns this-, hahh..." His lashes flutter rapidly and his hips begin to unconsciously lift up to meet yours slightly, "—this instant, angh.” Dabura groans.

Now you're the one smiling, “But, mmngh! You feel like you’re enjoying it,” You point out softly just as your hips come flush with his and you start to grind with his cock knocking around your insides, “I wonder what happens if I move my hands… up, like this,” With your little narration, your touch on his horns begins to travel in a way that's far too stimulating.

So much so that Dabura's jaw falls open and something whiny runs out of his throat. “Fuhh-, fuck. Don’t-,” Pausing to swallow thickly, “Don’t stroke them, slut—" He's cut off by the spinning of his own mind. Suddenly, he didn't know where to focus his attention. There was too much pleasure: the sensation of your hands caressing his horns, your pussy greedily gulping in every inch of his all the way down to his deftly sat base, and then the way you squirm in reaction to him being flustered. "Please? I… I meant to say please,” He corrects.

“Awwww," You mock, trying to get back at him for each time he'd done so earlier, "That was a cute attempt at trying to regain control here, really."

Dabura's eyelids lower a bit more, hiding the way his vision is slightly fogging over with something watery, “I could-, mngh.." His jaw tenses tightly enough to flash a vein decorating his sharp jawline, "I could have you under me within seconds. You’re already pushing your luck here, as if it was not you who begged for me like this.” He argues with a sudden thrust upwards.

The motion throws you off your balance for just a second, causing your voice to leave you all shaky-like, “I did n-not beg.”

“You did," He protests further, leaning-, no, slouching back and then letting his sharp fingernails dig into your skin, "You whined for me to let you play around with my cock and now that its toying around inside that sloppy pussy of yours, you’ve the nerve to get—fuck—bold with me.”

“Anh! Dabura-,” You're moaning again while he uses his firm grip on you to fuck himself deeper—impossibly deeper—inside you.

Something whorish splays out across his lips and you think he's drooling for a split second as his shaft ever-so-rudely thump! thump! thumps! against somewhere new, “You should be more appreciative of what I give you," He grunts hotly, maw beginning to dangle open whilst something feral coats his gaze, “Especially when my cock is so snug inside you like this. Can you feel that? The way I kiss the depths of this pussy?”

You hate how swiftly he had you looking like some stupidly-fucked whore on top of him, “Y-Yes, fuck! That feels s’good.”

His brows furrow with true curiosity, “Does it?” He asks, a faint softness caught in his throat. When you start nodding again, he pulls at your body so that you can resume your needy grinding, “Mmh. Prove it to me.” At that, its almost like you snap out of your daze. Your hands don't just grip onto his horns to tease him, no, no. This time around you roll your hips forwards and hold onto his horns just to keep yourself steady. Dabura tries prying his head away from you again, gasping, “Ah-, that’s cheating.”

You ignore him, of course, and with your perfect hold on him, you begin to bouce—frantically so—the sounds of your skin slapping down against his flying throughout the room and leaving everything to sound a slicked mess of sex. “Not my fault you’re sensitive here," You taunt.

“I am not—ohfuck," Dabura tried to fight back this time, he really, really did. But with the way you rut your hips back 'n forth and back 'n forth before switching to that up 'n down, hungry bounce of yours, he just couldn't keep up.

The rest of his taut frame falls into something submissive and he whimpers when you jerk him forward by the horns to match your pace. Husking, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” like a broken little mantra as his pupils blow out and he starts to lean into your touches, “Fuck me good, keep fucking me like this.” He encourages in between the hot flashes of something rigidity and heavy building up inside him, “Yesyesyes-, I’m gonna cum-," The alien gasps with abruptinly bucking hips, "I'm gonna-, mmmgh, fuck!”

You lose your balance again and almost flop forward entirely but his hold on your hips keeps you upright, leaving your hands to gravitate to his face just as a single tear of pleasure rolls out of his left eye. The moment he feels it and you notice it, he starts thrusting up faster in an attempt to distract you from it.

“Ah! Mmgh," You moan, feeling the way he tries exasperatedly to bring you to tears instead, only to fail no matter how many times his cockhead weeps tender thwaks! against your cervix. "Cum inside me?" You choke, "B-But—“

“Wanna stuff you with all of me,” Dabura pours out throatily. It was like talking to a brick wall at this point, he was already smearing something warm 'n creamy into you as he spoke, “You’ll be so pretty with my seed dripping out of you so, please,” Another pitchy gasp cuts through the air, “Take it, let it be yours—for... for science, remember?”

Just then, you almost laugh. You probably would've if you weren't busy agreeing to his babbled words, nodding your head and chuckling, “Uhuhh, cum inside me then. M-Mmnh! For science."

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You didn’t even bother rising at first, you just sensed it—an intruder crouched at the red torii, aura fractured, heartbeat too calm for someone dying. Only one idiot you knew perfectly matched that contradiction.

“Dabura Karaba,” you sighed, still lying sideways on your tatami. “If you die on my floor, I’ll throw you into the lake myself.”

A low voice answered, raspy with pain: “…Good evening to you too.”

You finally sat up, sliding the shoji open with a flick of your finger. Moonlight spilled over him—blood streaked down his side, his expression painfully neutral, as if apologizing for inconveniencing your night.

He bowed slightly. The bow you hated, because it always meant he was hurt. “May I…come in?”

“Only because you ask nicely,” you muttered, grabbing his arm and dragging him in by force anyway. Warm blood hit your wrist. “What happened?”

He blinked, slow. “I was ambushed.”

“By?”

“Someone loud. And annoying.” A beat. “…Your favorite type, apparently.”

You shot him a flat look. His lips barely twitched.

You patched him up with the same ease you would arrange flowers. He watched you with that annoyingly calm gaze the whole time, silent but overflowing with unspoken thanks.

When you wiped the last smear of blood from his jaw, he murmured, “I knew you were hiding out here. I wasn’t sure you’d let me in again.”

You shrugged. “I like quiet, not solitude. And you don’t disturb anything.”

A breath of something warm passed between you.

Which, naturally, was the exact moment the air cracked open outside.

Footsteps. Heavy, arrogant, familiar. Then a scoff.

“Oh, wonderful.” you muttered. “The universe sends me a migraine.”

Dabura closed his eyes knowingly. “You really should put up a boundary.”

“I did. He bites through them.”

The door slid open without permission.

Sukuna filled the entrance like a storm that learned how to smirk. Muscles cut from violence, eyes gleaming with that feral delight he only got when inconveniencing you personally.

“Well, well,” he drawled, eyes landing on Dabura slumped by your knee. “I leave you alone for a century and you start collecting strays.”

Your jaw clenched. “Get off my property.”

Sukuna stepped inside anyway, the tatami whining under his weight. His gaze dropped to Dabura’s bandaged ribs. “Oh? You’re bleeding on her floor? How brave.” He clicked his tongue. “She hates that.”

“I cleaned it,” Dabura said calmly, not bothering to look up.

Sukuna blinked once, slowly. Then laughed. “Shit, you’re so boring. How does she tolerate you?”

You stood up, palm flat on Sukuna’s chest, pushing him back even though your strength barely mattered. “Why are you here?”

He leaned into your touch shamelessly. “To pay a visit.”

“No.”

“To bother you.”

“No.”

His grin sharpened. “…To fuck you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Dabura exhaled through his nose, which for him was the equivalent of a dramatic eye-roll.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked down. “You again. Why are you always here when I want her alone?”

Dabura looked him dead in the eyes. “Why are you always here when she doesn’t?”

You choked back a laugh. Sukuna did not. “Listen carefully, little stone statue,” Sukuna said, stepping closer. “She and I have unfinished business.”

“She and I,” Dabura replied, just as soft, “have a peaceful house. You’re the disturbance.”

Sukuna froze. His jaw ticked. “No one calls me that.”

“I just did.”

The silence was electric. You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Both of you shut up.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue. “He’s getting bolder. Is it because you let him stay here? Hm?” He leaned close to your ear, voice low and wicked. “Or because you let him sleep in that little room near yours?”

Your pulse spiked. Dabura’s eyes sharpened, barely—like a blade unsheathed an inch.

“You’re injured,” he said to Sukuna. “Your right shoulder.”

Sukuna glared at him. “Don’t analyze me.”

“I’m not. I’m stating facts so she doesn’t waste time on you.”

“Oh, look at that,” you muttered, “my two worst decisions talking.”

Sukuna stepped closer, crowding you. “I don’t mind sharing your shrine,” he murmured. “But I won’t be polite about it.”

“You’ve never been polite in your life.”

Dabura rose to his feet despite the pain. “You’re disturbing her peace,” he said.

“And?”

“And she lets me stay because I don’t.” Dabura added.

Sukuna bared his teeth. “Are you implying she prefers you?”

“I’m implying,” Dabura replied, “that she doesn’t prefer noise.”

You burst out laughing before you could stop yourself.

Sukuna snapped his attention to you. “Oh? You’re laughing at him now?”

“No,” you said, wiping your eyes, “I’m laughing because the two of you are ancient terrors of the world and somehow behave like jealous teenagers.”

Sukuna blinked. Dabura looked away, a faint flush coloring his ears.

You stepped between them, hands on both chests—one calm, one heaving with irritation. “Listen carefully,” you said. “I took Dabura in because he needed shelter.”

Your fingers slid up Sukuna’s collarbone. “And you..I tolerate because you’re too stubborn to die.”

Sukuna grinned. Dabura sighed. You continued: “If either of you wants to cause trouble in my shrine, at least do it quietly.”

Sukuna leaned in, breath brushing your lips. “Oh, sweetheart,” he growled, “I can be very, very quiet when I want to.”

Behind you, Dabura’s dry voice cut in, “That’s a lie.”

You snorted again.

Sukuna’s glare sharpened. “Say that again.”

Dabura looked at him, “You’re loud.”

“LOUD—?!”

You shoved your palm over Sukuna’s mouth. “Enough,” you hissed.

He licked your hand. You jerked it back. “Disgusting.”

“Delicious,” he corrected.

Dabura muttered, “This is exhausting.”

You finally exhaled, shoulders dropping. “Both of you,” you said, “sit down.”

Sukuna smirked. Dabura obeyed immediately.

And you realized—you might actually be in hell.

But tonight?

Tonight the quiet shrine in the middle of nowhere was full of tension, heat, wounded gods, and the exact kind of trouble you secretly lived for.

And peace, unfortunately, would have to wait.

“Come with me,” you murmured, brushing your fingers over Dabura’s wrist. “I’ll clean it fully, sweetheart.”

The word slipped out naturally, warm, familiar, the way you always said it when he looked more hurt than he admitted.

Dabura didn’t even blink. He just nodded, eyes softening like he’d been waiting for you to take charge.

Behind you, from the kitchen, came the unmistakable crunch of bone. You didn’t bother turning. “Sukuna, that was wrapped for a reason.”

A low grunt. “He shouldn’t taste this good if you didn’t want me to eat him.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” you muttered, tugging Dabura gently toward the inner room.

“…I’m not—” Another crunch. “Okay, maybe I am.”

Dabura followed quietly, steps steady despite his wounds. He didn’t complain, didn’t posture. He never did. That’s what you liked about him—he let you handle him without ego.

You sat him down on the wooden floor beside your futon, kneeling between his knees as you peeled away the last blood-soaked wrap.

He winced, not dramatically, just a subtle tightening of the jaw.

You looked up at him. “Tell me if it stings.”

“It will,” he said, deadpan. “You never dab anything. You scrub.”

You snorted. “Maybe I enjoy hearing you hiss a little.”

His eyes flicked down to yours. “I know,” he said softly.

Something warm pulled in your chest. Another crunch echoed from the kitchen. “For fuck’s sake,” Sukuna growled. “You’re petting him now? Really?”

“I am treating a wound,” you called back.

“Looks like petting.”

Dabura blinked once, then murmured in the same calm tone he always used when insulting Sukuna, “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

A wooden spoon clattered against your counter as Sukuna choked on outrage. “I am not jealous—”

“Shh,” you interrupted, pressing a fresh cloth to Dabura’s side. He sucked in a sharp breath and your hand immediately steadied. “Sorry, babe.” Your thumb brushed slow, soothing circles into his skin. “Almost done.”

He watched you like you were something holy. Something safe.

“It’s fine,” Dabura whispered. “Your hands never hurt.”

Behind you came a disgruntled scoff. “Oh, Come on—”

You held up one finger without looking back. “I swear to the heavens, Sukuna—make one more noise and I’ll kick you into the lake to cool off.”

Silence.

Dabura’s breath eased. He lowered his head slightly, just enough that his forehead hovered inches from yours—asking without asking.

You leaned in and let your foreheads touch, feeling the grounding calm of him seep into you.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I always feel better when you’re the one caring for me.”

Your chest tightened. “Good,” you said softly. “Because you’re staying here until you recover.”

He nodded once. Obedient, trusting, comfortable.

From the kitchen, Sukuna muttered under his breath, “I hate both of you.”

You smiled. Dabura didn’t. But his hand slid over yours, slow and warm and deliberate.

He sat down near the kitchen threshold, water dripping from his hair and tracing the deep lines of markings across his bare chest. The horns framed his face like something born out of old myth—dangerous, regal, and very obviously not intimidated by the King of Curses leaning against your counter.

Sukuna eyed him up and down with an expression halfway between amusement and disgust.

“Horns,” he scoffed. “Really? You like horns now?”

Dabura didn’t even bother lifting his head. “Wow.”

Flat. Perfectly deadpan. An answer meant to irritate Sukuna purely by refusing to react.

You stepped behind Dabura and wrapped a towel over his wet hair, ruffling it with deliberate affection, like handling an oversized, battle-scarred dog who only lets you manhandle him.

“Yeah,” you said lazily, glancing back at Sukuna. “I can hold onto them when I ride him.”

Dabura’s breath hitched but only faintly. His mouth almost twitched upward, that near-smile he never showed anyone except you. He leaned subtly into your hands as you towel-dried his hair, head lowering so you didn’t have to reach.

His hand rose without hesitation, settling warm and confident on your thigh. You didn’t stop him.

Sukuna, however, snapped to attention like someone just spit on his throne. “Tch.”

A sharp, disgusted sound—masking something else entirely.

You rubbed Dabura’s hair one last time, intentionally rough, pushing it back from his forehead just to tease him. He lowered his gaze, lashes half-mast, and squeezed your thigh once—a quiet, controlled acknowledgement of you.

Sukuna’s aura spiked so sharply the air thickened. “You dare to touch her in front of me?” he growled, stepping away from the counter.

Dabura didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Didn’t even look at him.

He kept his hand on your thigh, thumb brushing once along your skin like a claim he didn’t need to voice.

You finally turned toward Sukuna, face blank. “…Are you stupid?”

Sukuna’s eyes widened—just a fraction. You had seen that look before: the moment his pride took a direct hit.

A slow, threatening smile curled on his mouth. “Say that again.”

“No,” you said. “You heard me the first time.”

Dabura’s voice slid into the tension, low and quiet, “She is not yours.”

Sukuna snapped his attention back to him instantly. “Then what makes you think she’s yours?”

Dabura finally looked up. Eyes sharp as a blade kept in perfect condition. “…She put her hands on me,” he said, tone even. “You can imitate power, Sukuna. You can’t imitate being chosen.”

Sukuna’s smile vanished.

Your shrine fell silent. You placed your hand over Dabura’s, still on your thigh, and squeezed once.

Sukuna’s breath stuttered. Just enough for you to notice. “Touch her again,” Sukuna murmured, voice dropping to a deadly whisper, “and I’ll remove your arm.”

Dabura didn’t blink. “I believe she would remove yours first.”

You smirked.

Because both of them were right. And neither of them could handle it.

You stood up from beside Dabura, his hand sliding from your thigh as you moved. Sukuna’s eyes followed you like a predator tracking movement, jaw ticking, shoulders tense.

You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him. Then you poked his chest. Hard. “Let’s review,” you said calmly.

“One: you kicked my door in.” Poke. Sukuna’s eyebrow twitched.

“Two: you annoyed me.” Another poke.

His aura flared hot, warning, instinctive but you didn’t stop.

“Three: you mocked the horns I like.” Poke. His lip curled.

“And four,” you stepped even closer, head tilted, “you ate my leftover sorcerer.”

Sukuna sneered. “He was stale.”

“That is NOT the point.”

Sukuna leaned down, eyes narrowing, voice low and sharp as broken bone. “You’re awfully brave today.”

Behind you, Dabura shifted slightly, not threateningly, not impulsively, just ready. Unbothered, observing.

The still water to Sukuna’s wildfire.

You ignored Sukuna’s attempt at intimidation completely.

“So,” you said, poking his chest one last time, “What are you doing here?”

His grin faltered. Not much. Just enough that you caught it. He hated being asked that. Hated needing a reason. Hated that you demanded one.

His fingers curled at his sides. “…Visiting,” he growled.

“Wrong answer.”

A pause. His eyes darkened.

“Checking on you,” he snapped, then immediately scowled as if furious with himself for saying it out loud.

Dabura exhaled through his nose—barely audible, but absolutely judgmental.

Sukuna glared past you at him. “What was that?”

Dabura, perfectly calm, “Nothing.”

You turned your head slightly. “That sounded like something.”

“It wasn’t,” Dabura said flatly.

Which only irritated Sukuna more, because Dabura didn’t raise his voice, didn’t bow his head, didn’t show an ounce of fear.

Sukuna returned his attention to you, shoulders tight, expression somewhere between frustration, jealousy, and refusal.

He stepped closer, chest brushing your fingertip. “You want a reason?” he asked, voice dropping to a low, dangerous rasp. “Fine.”

His eyes lingered on your lips. Then your throat. Then the hand you’d just laid on Dabura minutes earlier.

“I came,” he said quietly, “because you’ve been letting someone else get too close.”

Dabura’s gaze sharpened. Yours did too. Sukuna continued, teeth bared in a half-snarl, half-confession he didn’t want to make, “And it pisses me off.”

“Does it?” you smirked, chin tilting up.

His grin widened into something wicked. “Yeah,” he said, voice dropping low, “it does.”

“Mhm.”

You dragged your gaze slowly over his features, purposefully unimpressed.

“Too bad you’re not the only big guy with good features.”

His smile vanished. “What?”

You shrugged, completely unfazed. “Don’t look at me like that. Dabura has horns.”

Sukuna’s face contorted. “Yes! He has horns, woman.”

You clicked your tongue. “Yeah. Horns. A third eye. Funny markings. Don’t act like you don’t have four eyes, four arms, and funny markings too.”

Sukuna opened his mouth—then paused. Because you were right. Painfully right.

You stepped even closer, voice dropping into a taunting whisper. “I have a type.”

Behind you, Dabura spoke, tone flat, perfectly timed, as if dissecting the situation with cold logic: “She likes monsters.”

Sukuna snapped toward him. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Dabura blinked slowly. “I noticed.”

Your smirk deepened.

Sukuna dragged his gaze back to you, jaw flexing, teeth grinding together as he tried to process being compared to someone else.

“You’re choosing him because he has accessories?” Sukuna demanded, gesturing vaguely at Dabura’s horns like they were a personal insult. “This is ridiculous. I’m the stronger one. The more dangerous one. The more—”

You interrupted, tapping his chest twice. “Sukuna. Sweetheart. Strength was never the deciding factor.”

Dabura murmured under his breath: “She likes calm.”

Sukuna snapped, “Be quiet.”

You raised a brow at Sukuna. “…You hear how loud you are right now?”

He froze. Because yes—he was loud. Again. And Dabura wasn’t even sweating.

He sat there shirtless, wet hair dripping, horns gleaming, quietly existing, and somehow that alone was undermining the King of Curses.

You stepped back from Sukuna just enough to look him in the eyes. “You fit my type.” You gestured to Dabura without looking. “So does he.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened into something primal, territorial, and deeply offended. “So I’m competing with that?” he spat.

Dabura tilted his head. “You approached her. Not me.”

Sukuna growled, “I’ll tear your horns off.”

You sighed. “You can eat yourselves alive,” you said, brushing past Sukuna’s shoulder like he wasn’t the most feared curse to ever exist. “I’m going to sleep.”

Silence cracked through the shrine.

Neither man moved.

You didn’t look back—just slid your door open and disappeared into your room, leaving them both standing in your kitchen like two disasters you refused to babysit another second.

The door clicked shut behind you.

Outside? War.

Sukuna blinked once, slowly, like someone had just stolen the punchline he prepared. “She did not just—”

Dabura rose to his feet, water still dripping from his hair, towel sliding off one broad shoulder. “Yes. She did.”

Sukuna turned on him immediately. “Did I ask you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you speaking?”

Dabura looked him dead in the eyes. “Because you won’t stop.”

Sukuna scoffed, stepping closer, aura snarling around him. “You think I’m going to let her walk away after that?”

“You’re not letting her do anything,” Dabura said flatly. “She chose to leave.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenched. He glanced toward your closed door—once, fast, like he wanted to tear it off its hinges.

But he didn’t move. Because if he followed you now, after you dismissed him?

That would mean he was obeying you. Instead he growled, “She thinks she can just go to sleep while we’re—”

“Yes,” Dabura said. “Because she’s tired.”

Sukuna whipped around, rage tightening his expression. “Tired of what?”

Dabura blinked slowly, that quiet patience that always made Sukuna look more unhinged by comparison. “Of you.”

Sukuna’s hand twitched—ready to summon claws, tear something, destroy anything that wasn’t you. And still—He didn’t go after you. He didn’t dare. So instead he spat, “Fine. Let her sleep.”

Dabura stood there, chest rising slow, controlled.

Sukuna glared. After a long moment, he snarled: “She better not be sleeping on you.”

Dabura didn’t answer. But he didn’t need to.

The quiet confidence in his posture said everything.

Sukuna stalked out into your garden like a banished storm, the earth cracking faintly under his steps, the koi scattering as if they knew better than to swim near him when he was sulking.

Good. Let him cool down outside.

Inside your room, the silence felt like warm silk. A soft knock tapped on your doorframe. “…May I come in?”

You didn’t have to sense him. His calm aura was unmistakable.

“Yeah,” you sighed, shifting the blanket up for him. “But don’t bleed on my sheets.”

Dabura stepped in with that effortless, quiet strength of his. He moved with a grace that made the entire shrine feel smaller.

“And don’t poke my eye out either,” you added.

He huffed something that might actually qualify as a laugh.

“I would never.”

You rolled your eyes but lifted the blanket anyway. He slid onto the futon beside you, careful, fitting his body around yours like he’d memorized the shape of sleeping next to you.

He wasn’t warm like Sukuna, who radiated heat like a furnace.

Dabura ran cooler—comfortable and solid.

You melted into him instantly. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you subtly closer. He dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then you leaned up to kiss his jaw, feeling it tense under your lips.

You felt more than heard the quiet vibration in his chest. Not a purr. Just contentment restrained by dignity.

Outside, a rock cracked under Sukuna’s heel. Dabura’s lips brushed your hair. “He’s so annoyed,” Dabura whispered, amusement feathering his tone.

“Yes he is,” you whispered back, snickering into his collarbone.

A pause. Then, softer: “It’s amusing,” Dabura murmured. “Seeing him so emotional.”

“It is.” You grinned into his skin. “But he’s hot when he’s mad.”

Dabura exhaled silently—the closest he ever got to laughing aloud. “That too,” he whispered.

You both shook with silent laughter and outside in the garden, Sukuna snapped a stalk of bamboo clean in half.

You buried your face more against Dabura’s throat.

He held you tighter, fingers stroking the back of your shoulder with slow, steady movements, completely unbothered by the King of Curses pacing angrily outside your sanctuary like a jealous beast.

The door slammed open so hard the frame protested.

Sukuna filled the entrance like a calamity, jaw clenched so tight a vein stood out along his neck, the air around him vibrating with the kind of rage only wounded pride could summon.

“Move over,” he snapped, voice low and dangerous. “I am not doing this.”

You didn’t move. Of course you didn’t.

Instead you snickered and buried your face deeper into Dabura’s neck, teeth grazing his skin in a playful bite meant solely to make the situation worse.

It worked.

Dabura inhaled quietly, muscles shifting under you, the faintest curl of a smile threatening his normally stoic mouth.

Sukuna looked like he might spontaneously combust. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he snarled, stepping fully into the room.

Dabura lifted his head just slightly, eyes half-lidded, voice soft but not submissive in the slightest. “She wishes to sleep.”

Sukuna barked a laugh. “Oh, she wishes to—? Listen to me, you horned ornament—”

You cut him off by tightening your hold on Dabura’s shoulders and biting him again. Dabura exhaled through his nose, steadying himself.

Sukuna’s eye twitched so violently it could’ve counted as a separate attack technique. “Are you taunting me?” he demanded.

You finally lifted your head from Dabura’s neck, giving Sukuna the laziest smirk you could muster.

“I would never,” you lied.

Sukuna took one long step toward the bed, aura crackling.

Dabura didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just tightened his arm around you slightly, subtle but unmistakably protective.

Sukuna’s voice dropped even lower. “Move over,” he repeated, each syllable vibrating with restrained violence. “I’m not watching you cling to him like that.”

You raised a brow. “You watching is a you problem.”

“It’s everyone’s problem,” Sukuna shot back.

Dabura murmured, quiet as a blade sliding into its sheath: “You are welcome to sit. Not to demand.”

Sukuna’s glare could have shattered stone. But Dabura stayed calm, steady, warm at your back—everything Sukuna wasn’t in this moment.

You stretched out luxuriously against Dabura, just to drive the point home.

Sukuna growled. “Fine,” he bit out. “I’m getting in that bed.”

You blinked. Dabura blinked. Sukuna kicked off his sandals and climbed in on the opposite side of you with the worst attitude known to mankind.

He glared at you. Then at Dabura. Then at the blanket you refused to share. “Move,” Sukuna demanded.

“No,” you and Dabura said simultaneously.

Sukuna clenched his jaw so hard it cracked. And somehow—somehow—that was still not the worst part.

The worst part was that he stayed.

You kissed Dabura’s cheek, a soft brush of lips that barely registered on his skin but burned in Sukuna’s peripheral vision.

Then you stretched out onto your back like a queen entertaining herself with dangerous pets, sighing dramatically.

“Whimsical and fun,” you mocked aloud, voice syrupy with fake wonder.

Sukuna glared.

You turned your head toward him, fingers lazily sliding over his chest—over ink, muscle and heat.

“I’m the luckiest woman alive,” you purred, eyes half-lidded. “Please just never leave my bed again.”

Sukuna looked like he was physically restraining himself from shoving you down and proving a point. Instead, he muttered: “Tch.”

You rolled to your side to face him fully.

Behind you, Dabura shifted closer with silent precision, his bare chest brushing your back, one arm slipping around your lower waist like he’d claimed it before you even asked.

The weight of him behind you, cooler than Sukuna, but solid, grounding, ever-present—felt deliberate. Like he was reminding you he was still here.

Sukuna’s voice broke through, low and lethal: “If he touches my dick, I bite your head off.”

You smirked. “Mine? Why mine?” you asked sweetly, tracing the edge of his jaw with one finger, then dragging it slowly down the markings on his neck. “I’d love to watch you touch each other.”

Sukuna growled. A real sound, deep in his chest. “No.”

You leaned closer, mouth brushing the edge of his jaw, voice a whisper of heat against his skin. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t like it.”

Behind you, Dabura’s hand flexed. Then slowly, very slowly—tightened on your waist.

“Oh?” You turned your head just slightly, back still pressed to his chest. “You’d like that too, huh?”

Dabura huffed something close to a laugh, more breath than voice but his hand did begin to slide lower across your stomach.

You felt every inch of it.

Sukuna watched it happen with fury burning in every line of his face. “I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t,” you whispered.

Dabura’s palm skimmed lower, just under your navel now. A pause. A test. You tilted your hips slightly back into him—permission without a word.

He breathed out slowly behind you.

Sukuna was fuming—silent now, jaw locked, one hand flexing on the sheets like he was seconds from tearing through both of you just to reassert his place in the room.

You smiled against Sukuna’s neck. “Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I won’t let him touch you.”

“Fucking better not,” he growled, eyes locked on Dabura’s hand.

Dabura, behind you, only chuckled low in your ear.

His hand moved slowly over your stomach, his palm cold, fingertips tracing lines with perfect control. He touched like he thought ahead, like he already knew how your body would react.

No fumbling. No nerves. Just quiet, measured possession.

Your breath hitched once. That was all it took to encourage him further. His hand trailed lower. Not greedy. Not impatient. Just claiming.

And while he explored, your own hand drifted over Sukuna’s chest—because he was there, glaring silently, shirtless and carved like a curse weapon, muscles flexing with tension.

He didn’t say anything at first. Let you touch him. Let your fingers map the ridges of his chest, his neck, the ink that wrapped down his arms.

You admired all of him—the impossible height, the mass of four arms coiled like restrained violence, the marks that pulsed with cursed energy beneath your palm.

The sheer size of him. The pressure of being near him.

And, of course, his problems hidden under that hakama, both of which you were fully aware of, fully familiar with, and fully imagining at the same time Dabura’s hand slid lower.

Sukuna didn’t even look at you. Not at first. He just turned his back, throwing the blanket slightly off as he rolled to face the wall like a sulking titan. Like some massive, furious, scolded child who didn’t want you to see how affected he really was.

You grinned.

Then you let go of Dabura’s wrist and leaned over, pressing yourself to Sukuna’s back. Your leg curved around his thigh. Your arm slid over his waist and your hand cupped his crotch.

You squeezed. Just once. Firm and slow. He jerked slightly, jaw clenching, muscles twitching. “You know, Sukuna…” you purred in his ear, lips ghosting the edge of his neck, “Dabura has a split tongue.”

Silence. Tense. Hot. Then your tone dipped into a taunt:

“Wouldn’t you like that?”

Behind you, Dabura exhaled faintly—still touching you, still calm, still present.

Sukuna’s hands gripped the bedding like he might rip straight through the floor. His voice, when it came, was low and violent: “Get your hand off me.”

You smiled into his skin. “Why? You’re hard.”

His back tensed more. All four arms flexed once.

“And you’re jealous,” you whispered.

“I am not jealous,” he growled.

You dragged your hand again—slow, with just enough pressure to feel him twitch. He was already halfway there. And you knew it. “You’d let him suck you off,” you whispered, biting his shoulder lightly. “If I told you to.”

“No,” Sukuna snarled—but it cracked. Just a little.

Dabura, behind you, murmured with maddening calm: “If she told you to, you would.”

You choked on a laugh.

Sukuna shot up in bed, turning his head toward you both with a snarl but he didn’t shove you off. Didn’t push Dabura away.

He just sat there—muscles trembling, cocks straining under your palm, and refusing to admit how badly he wanted all of it.

The heat in the room was thick now. Not just from bodies, but from the raw imbalance of power—the way you lay on your side, both hands wrapped around Sukuna’s twin cocks, stroking slow, uneven, teasing.

The way Dabura’s chest pressed flush against your back, both of his arms coiled around your middle, hands exploring your skin like he was reading scripture he already memorized.

Sukuna was shaking. Not from weakness.

From rage. From the humiliation of this, being pleasured by you while watched by another man. Not just watched—spoken to. Directed. Analyzed.

He was on his side, facing you, panting through his teeth like every second of this was killing him.

Dabura’s voice, low and soft behind you, brushed your ear like silk-laced poison. “Go slower,” he murmured, guiding your wrists with light pressure.

“Not too tight—he likes control, but he breaks when it’s taken from him.”

You exhaled a breathless laugh, licking your bottom lip.

Sukuna’s teeth were bared. “You think I’ll let this—”

“You already are,” Dabura cut in smoothly.

Your grip around Sukuna’s cocks shifted—just the way Dabura instructed. He twitched in your hands.

“See?” Dabura whispered. “He hates this.”

You smiled. “And that’s what makes it so fun.”

Sukuna snarled, jaw flexing hard enough to crack. Dabura kissed the back of your shoulder. His voice dipped lower, filthy but still calm. Almost clinical.

“Stroke the bottom one slower,” he whispered, fingers sliding over your navel now, dipping lower. “He’s more sensitive there. It drives him mad.”

You obeyed.

Sukuna groaned—a raw, furious sound like something scraped from the pit of his throat.

He wanted to throw you down, dominate you, erase Dabura’s presence entirely.

But your hands stayed wrapped around him. And Dabura’s voice stayed in your ear. “He’s close already,” Dabura murmured. “All that pride, and nothing to show for it.”

Sukuna was trembling now. “Shut the fuck up—”

Dabura didn’t stop. “Poor thing,” he whispered over your skin, fingers now between your thighs, barely touching. “You want me to help?”

Sukuna glared at him with murder in his eyes.

And Dabura—calm, dangerous, fully hard now against your ass, held that stare over your shoulder and asked:

“You want me to hold her open for you?”

A beat.

“Would that help?” His tone stayed polite. Too polite. “Would that make it easier, Ryomen Sukuna?”

Sukuna snapped. Not forward. Back. He grabbed your wrist, yanked your hands off his cocks with a growl that shook the walls. His claws dug into the sheets, teeth gritted so hard they ached.

“Touch me again,” he snarled, eyes glowing, “and I’ll fuck you so deep you’ll forget his name.”

Dabura chuckled behind you. “Come up, lovely,” he said softly.

There was no force in it—just certainty.

He pushed himself up and settled back against the headboard, posture relaxed, confident, entirely in control. When he pulled you over his lap, it felt natural, inevitable. Your back pressed to his chest, his legs spreading slightly to make room.

For Sukuna. Just in case.

Dabura adjusted you with deliberate care, guiding your thighs over his own, grounding you there like you belonged. One hand slid under your thigh, steady and warm; the other stayed possessive and slow, reminding you exactly where you were.

You exhaled, breath hitching despite yourself. Dabura didn’t rush. He never did.

“My offer stands,” he said calmly, eyes lifting to Sukuna over your shoulder.

Sukuna hadn’t moved. He was rigid, coiled, eyes burning as he watched Dabura arrange you like something precious and dangerous at the same time. Every line of his body screamed restraint—rage sharpened by want.

Dabura’s thumb traced a slow, maddening line, voice dipping just enough to be cruel. “You want to sulk,” he continued evenly, “or you want your ego back?”

Silence stretched. Sukuna’s jaw flexed. His teeth ground together. “You think this is about my ego?” he snarled.

Dabura hummed thoughtfully, fingers never stopping. “No,” he said. “I think it’s about control.”

Your head tipped back slightly against Dabura’s shoulder. You smiled. “And you hate losing it,” you murmured toward Sukuna.

That did it.

Sukuna came closer, presence flooding the room again, heat rolling off him in waves. He loomed there, furious and magnificent, eyes flicking between Dabura’s hand, your expression, the way you sat so comfortably claimed.

“You’re enjoying this,” he growled at you.

“Immensely,” you replied.

Dabura’s arm tightened subtly around you, protective and provocative all at once.

“She invited you,” he said to Sukuna, tone almost kind. “I’m simply…accommodating.”

Sukuna laughed once. “You don’t accommodate,” he said. “You provoke.”

Dabura finally smiled. “Only when it works.”

Dabura’s arm around your waist held you steady as he slid two fingers into you, firm but slow—like a man unbothered by anything, not even the furious legend standing three feet away. His palm curved perfectly between your thighs, guiding the movement like a ritual.

Your breath hitched. Your head dropped back against his shoulder, mouth parting, lashes fluttering.

And the whole time? You never broke eye contact with Sukuna.

Face locked in a mixture of rage, need, and disbelief that you were letting someone else do this while he watched.

You didn’t flinch. You just reached out and grabbed him.

One of them.

His breath caught. His whole body jerked once like something sharp had struck through his spine.

“Get between my legs,” you said flatly.

A command. Not a request. For a moment, he didn’t move—too many thoughts crashing through the warped temple of his pride.

Then, slowly, furiously, he leaned forward and of course, the first thing this stupid man did was threaten. His eyes, glowing and violent, locked onto Dabura like he might tear out his throat for breathing the same air as you.

Dabura didn’t even blink.

He just pulled his fingers out, slow and wet, keeping his grip firm on your waist—then reached over with the most casual shit-eating grin you’d ever seen, and slid those same fingers straight into Sukuna’s mouth.

“Taste what you miss.”

Silence. Sukuna froze. His jaw flexed. He glared at Dabura like he might kill him in nine ways and still bring him back for a tenth. He didn’t suck. Didn’t bite. Just glared and gave you the filthiest, most betrayed side-eye with all four eyes.

You choked on a laugh.

“Oh? No?” Dabura said, voice mock-polite. His fingers glistened in the low light. “What a shame.”

He licked them clean. Slowly. Still holding direct eye contact with Sukuna.

Sukuna twitched like he might detonate.

Your hand squeezed his cock once. “Poor thing,” you murmured. “Outnumbered again.”

Sukuna’s hands slammed into the mattress on either side of your legs, caging you in, eyes locked on Dabura as if trying to set him on fire by will alone. “You think I’ll let you play with me like this?” he growled.

“No,” you purred.

Dabura’s hands slid to your thighs. He opened your legs wider for him.

The movement was deliberate enough that Sukuna felt it like a challenge. Like an invitation he didn’t want—but absolutely couldn’t refuse.

Sukuna looked up at you with the most offended, betrayed expression you’d ever seen on an ancient curse. All four eyes burning with accusation.

A silent, how dare you.

And still—He knelt between your legs. “I will kill you both,” he muttered, voice low, wrecked, already losing.

“Amazing,” Dabura replied dryly, entirely unimpressed.

He adjusted you again, tilting you just enough, just cruelly enough, to make Sukuna’s breath hitch. One hand firm at your hip, the other guiding without asking.

“Stay with the top one,” Dabura said softly, sweet as poison.

Sukuna growled, lining himself up, shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact. “I will destroy this bed,” he snarled at you. “And you.” Then his gaze snapped to Dabura. “And you will regret this.”

Dabura smiled. “That’s fine.”

Then he pushed you forward. Just enough.

Your breath broke into a moan before you could stop it. Sukuna answered with a rough groan of his own, teeth bared, body going taut beneath your hands like he was hanging on by instinct alone.

Dabura’s grip tightened—satisfied. Not jealous. Watching. For now.

“You’re unbearable,” Sukuna hissed through clenched teeth.

“You’re welcome,” Dabura murmured.

You were caught between them, pulse racing, fully aware that this was a mistake, a war crime, and the best decision you’d made in centuries.

It felt criminally good.

Sukuna had you fully caged between his four arms, hips slamming into you with brutal rhythm, bracing himself with one set of hands gripping the headboard—splintering it by degrees—and the other slipping possessively to your thighs.

He shoved Dabura’s hands aside like he was reclaiming you inch by inch.

Dabura didn’t argue. Didn’t fight it.

He just wrapped his arms fully around your waist, pulling you back against his chest, holding you there—like he had no intention of letting go, no matter how hard Sukuna fucked you forward into him.

You felt every inch of both of them.

Sukuna’s rhythm was punishing.

And Dabura—he breathed quietly, every inhale brushing warm against your ear, every exhale timed perfectly with the way your body ground back against the obvious hardness pinned under you. He didn’t move. Just let it happen.

Sukuna’s bottom cock, caught between you and Dabura’s lap, slid helplessly between your bodies—completely useless in the position.

It twitched once, trapped, frustrated, hot as hell and utterly denied.

Dabura felt it. Of course he did.

You moaned, head dropping back into his shoulder, breath ragged. Sukuna growled, low and violent, his fingers bruising your thighs now. “Fuck—you’re the one making it worse,” he snarled at Dabura. “She’s rubbing on me because of you.”

Dabura let out a soft, maddening sound—half a laugh, half something filthier. “Not my fault you’re built inefficiently,” he murmured.

“You want me to tear that smirk off your face?”

“You’d have to pull out first,” Dabura said smoothly. “And we both know you won’t.”

You gasped at that—whether from Sukuna’s thrust, or the vicious tension between them, you didn’t even know.

Sukuna slammed in deeper, teeth gritted, jaw clenched like he was hanging on to his sanity by seconds.

Dabura held you tighter. His mouth brushed your neck. “You’re so good like this,” he whispered, just for you. “Soft and wrecked. You should see yourself.”

You whimpered.

Sukuna snapped. One hand left the headboard and grabbed the back of your neck, forcing you to look forward—at him. “You look at me when you fall apart,” he snarled. “Not him.”

Dabura smirked, lips pressed against your shoulder, utterly unbothered. “That’s not what she was doing a minute ago.”

“Keep talking,” Sukuna growled, rhythm brutal again. “I’ll make you watch her come all over me.”

Dabura’s fingers brushed lower. “Maybe I’ll make her do it first.” His voice was soft. Too soft. “Let me take care of you too.”

He said it with that same calm authority he used for killing—low and deadly sweet—like the idea of pleasuring Sukuna wasn’t terrifying, but mildly amusing.

Sukuna snarled under his breath, still buried inside you, all four arms bracing or gripping or trembling from the sheer violence of his own restraint.

But Dabura didn’t wait for permission. He never needed it.

One of his hands slid down between your thighs, right where Sukuna was thrusting into you and found your clit with surgical precision. The pressure was slow, perfect, maddening.

You twitched in his lap. Sukuna groaned through gritted teeth.

Dabura’s cock, not human in the slightest—long, ridged, alien in its movement—shifted beneath you and slid lower. Around. Forward.

It coiled around Sukuna’s lower cock, slick and smooth and deliberate, wrapping and twisting in perfect rhythm with your movement.

Sukuna shuddered.

He looked down in disbelief as Dabura jerked him off—without touching him, just using his own strange, pulsing body. The way his cock slid against Sukuna’s length was obscene—slow, teasing, designed to drive him insane.

“You—” Sukuna gasped.

Dabura kissed your neck like it was nothing. “You’re doing good,” he whispered—to Sukuna.

Smug. Deadly. Completely in control.

“Keep that pace,” Dabura murmured, his fingers circling your clit with slow, brutal confidence. “Just like that. She’s so close, can’t you feel it?”

Sukuna growled but his hips stuttered. Because he could.

Dabura’s cock twisted tighter. You whimpered. “She clenches when you angle left,” Dabura added, voice lower. “There. You feel that?”

Sukuna bared his teeth. “I’ll kill you.”

“You’ll come first.”

You cried out, torn between them, devoured between violence and control. Sukuna slammed deeper, groaning, head dropping forward. And Dabura just whispered, “Make her finish, Sukuna.”

Your body arched.

“Right on your cock. Come on.” He added.

Sukuna growled through his teeth—“Fucking hell—”

Dabura’s grip tightened. Their rhythm matched.

Your breath shattered. You cried out, shaking, as Sukuna followed you into it, choking on a moan, his jaw locked and entire body wracked with the kind of climax he’d never admit broke him a little.

Dabura sighed like he’d just cleaned up someone else’s mess.

Dabura slid back just enough to free himself from the chaos, calm even as Sukuna’s release streaked across him—warm, messy proof of what he’d just orchestrated.

He didn’t rush. He never rushed.

He lined himself up with quiet precision as Sukuna finally pulled away from you, breath ragged, eyes burning, both of them still shaking from what they’d just been dragged through.

“Won’t be long, lovely,” Dabura breathed, voice low and intimate, fingers adjusting you with deliberate care.

You swallowed, chest rising and falling fast. “You close already?” you whispered.

“I am.”

That honesty hit harder than any growl.

You shifted forward instinctively, legs straddling him as you leaned away from his chest, body arching toward Sukuna instead. The movement drew a sharp breath from both of them.

Sukuna caught you instantly.

One hand closed around your throat, just enough to hold you there, to remind you who was watching. His grin was feral, satisfied, wicked.

Both of his cocks still slick, still dripping, still twitching with residual heat. “Look at you,” he murmured, eyes dragging over your face. “Can’t even stand on your own.”

Dabura’s hands slid up your hips from behind, grounding you, steady and unhurried. “She’s perfect,” he said calmly. “Let her be.”

Sukuna’s thumb tipped your chin up, forcing your gaze to his. “You going to break for him,” he said, almost amused. “Or for me?”

You smiled through it. “Both,” you whispered.

Dabura exhaled behind you, low and satisfied. And Sukuna laughed.

Dabura’s grip was bruising your hips now as you moved—grinding in that rhythm he couldn’t handle much longer. His composure was cracking, but even now he held it together. Barely.

You were straddling him in reverse, thighs burning, hands gripping his legs for balance, body arched forward into—

Sukuna.

Who still had one hand around your throat, holding you upright like a trophy between monsters. He leaned in and kissed you, rough and claiming, swallowing every moan you let slip for Dabura beneath you.

And you were moaning now. Because the shape of Dabura’s cock, those patterns, those shifting, inhuman ridges—were stroking all the wrong places perfectly. Too deep. Too good. Too much.

You whined into Sukuna’s mouth.

Dabura groaned behind you, low and wrecked. His hands gripped harder, holding your rhythm like his life depended on it.

Your walls tightened again. Too close—again.

Sukuna pulled back from your mouth, breath hot, eyes wild, cocks still twitching between your bodies like he hadn’t even begun to calm down.

He looked down at you, then back at Dabura—grinning like a beast. “Mhm…give him that,” Sukuna chuckled, deep and dangerous. “Come on. He earned that.”

Dabura’s breath hitched. One last thrust up into you. His jaw clenched. His fingers dug in as he broke. Spilling into you as his whole body shuddered beneath you.

You cried out for him, head falling forward—right into Sukuna’s chest, mouth open, shaking with your own release. Again.

Sukuna laughed against your ear, low and feral. “You look so good when someone else ruins you,” he murmured. “Almost makes me jealous.”

Dabura’s hands slid up your sides, still trembling, still holding you like you were his.

You were panting now—spent, ruined, caught between chaos and stillness.

Dabura tilted his head back against the headboard, chest rising and falling in sharp, measured breaths. His eyes were half-lidded, damp hair clinging to his temples, one hand still resting on the side of your ass like it belonged there.

You had no bones left.

You slumped forward, face-first into Sukuna’s chest, arms loosely wrapping around his waist with the grace of a body tossed from a cliff.

Your cheek pressed against his skin, hot, sweaty, still humming with cursed energy and he caught you automatically. Two of his arms circled you tight, the other two just hanging there, as if not sure what to do after nearly killing a bed with raw power and ego.

“For the record,” Sukuna muttered, voice still rough, “I still can’t stand you, asshole.”

Dabura huffed a dry laugh, lazily rubbing his palm over your lower back. “I made you cum really good, huh.”

His smirk could’ve shattered kingdoms. Sukuna rolled his eyes hard enough you felt it in his chest. You just laughed, dead, wheezing, face still pressed into him. It made Sukuna grin like the bastard he was.

You were covered, sore, dripping, and pinned between the two most annoying forces in existence.

And unfortunately…it wasn’t that bad. But here you were.

Cradled by a curse with four arms and an ego problem. Spoon-fed comfort by a horned nightmare with a split tongue and zero shame.

You weren’t sure if this counted as divine punishment or the best decision you’d ever made.

Probably both.

You’d figure it out later. For now? You were tired. Held.

And, unfortunately…They were both staying the night.

Fuck.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ full already? didn’t think so. my masterlist’s right here.

© ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛɢʜᴏᴜʟ

Encouraged enough to wrap your fingers around his horns and get a good grasp on them while drawing your hips high up above his length, that sloppy wet tip of his slipping out of you with something gooey oozing out of the centered slit already.

"Fuck—damn human—I said.. wait," Dabura attempts to warn again. His voice comes out slow ‘n heavy, lacking the previous sense of mockery and amusement he had when this whole thing started. The syllables used to nastily glide off of his tongue but now they’re falling out with an almost pathetic rasp. Hands sliding up to hold your waist firmly, grasping at every stretch of skin available there, he then squeezes as if to warn you or something.

Do you heed said warning?

Fuck no.

Your grip on his horns gets even tighter and he's still trying to tug his head away from you, something suddenly fogging up his gaze as you maintain your hold on him and plop your warmth back down onto his firmly-standing cock. “Let go,” He groans deeply, the sound vibrating against his inked throat. Ignoring the poor alien, you smile and arch forward all sensual-like,

“Mmnh, see? I knew you could make other faces!” You exclaim all excitedly as you drink in the sight of his eyes failing to uphold that hardened look from before.

He couldn't keep up with his glares no matter how hard he tried, not when you've got your palms rubbing up pressed against his horns. No one ever touches them, especially not in a situation like this but, here you are.

He should've known better than to agree with you about doing all this for science or-, whatever bullshit it was you uttered to him before all this. “I demand you release my horns this-, hahh..." His lashes flutter rapidly and his hips begin to unconsciously lift up to meet yours slightly, "—this instant, angh.” Dabura groans.

Now you're the one smiling, “But, mmngh! You feel like you’re enjoying it,” You point out softly just as your hips come flush with his and you start to grind with his cock knocking around your insides, “I wonder what happens if I move my hands… up, like this,” With your little narration, your touch on his horns begins to travel in a way that's far too stimulating.

So much so that Dabura's jaw falls open and something whiny runs out of his throat. “Fuhh-, fuck. Don’t-,” Pausing to swallow thickly, “Don’t stroke them, slut—" He's cut off by the spinning of his own mind. Suddenly, he didn't know where to focus his attention. There was too much pleasure: the sensation of your hands caressing his horns, your pussy greedily gulping in every inch of his all the way down to his deftly sat base, and then the way you squirm in reaction to him being flustered. "Please? I… I meant to say please,” He corrects.

“Awwww," You mock, trying to get back at him for each time he'd done so earlier, "That was a cute attempt at trying to regain control here, really."

Dabura's eyelids lower a bit more, hiding the way his vision is slightly fogging over with something watery, “I could-, mngh.." His jaw tenses tightly enough to flash a vein decorating his sharp jawline, "I could have you under me within seconds. You’re already pushing your luck here, as if it was not you who begged for me like this.” He argues with a sudden thrust upwards.

The motion throws you off your balance for just a second, causing your voice to leave you all shaky-like, “I did n-not beg.”

“You did," He protests further, leaning-, no, slouching back and then letting his sharp fingernails dig into your skin, "You whined for me to let you play around with my cock and now that its toying around inside that sloppy pussy of yours, you’ve the nerve to get—fuck—bold with me.”

“Anh! Dabura-,” You're moaning again while he uses his firm grip on you to fuck himself deeper—impossibly deeper—inside you.

Something whorish splays out across his lips and you think he's drooling for a split second as his shaft ever-so-rudely thump! thump! thumps! against somewhere new, “You should be more appreciative of what I give you," He grunts hotly, maw beginning to dangle open whilst something feral coats his gaze, “Especially when my cock is so snug inside you like this. Can you feel that? The way I kiss the depths of this pussy?”

You hate how swiftly he had you looking like some stupidly-fucked whore on top of him, “Y-Yes, fuck! That feels s’good.”

His brows furrow with true curiosity, “Does it?” He asks, a faint softness caught in his throat. When you start nodding again, he pulls at your body so that you can resume your needy grinding, “Mmh. Prove it to me.” At that, its almost like you snap out of your daze. Your hands don't just grip onto his horns to tease him, no, no. This time around you roll your hips forwards and hold onto his horns just to keep yourself steady. Dabura tries prying his head away from you again, gasping, “Ah-, that’s cheating.”

You ignore him, of course, and with your perfect hold on him, you begin to bouce—frantically so—the sounds of your skin slapping down against his flying throughout the room and leaving everything to sound a slicked mess of sex. “Not my fault you’re sensitive here," You taunt.

“I am not—ohfuck," Dabura tried to fight back this time, he really, really did. But with the way you rut your hips back 'n forth and back 'n forth before switching to that up 'n down, hungry bounce of yours, he just couldn't keep up.

The rest of his taut frame falls into something submissive and he whimpers when you jerk him forward by the horns to match your pace. Husking, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” like a broken little mantra as his pupils blow out and he starts to lean into your touches, “Fuck me good, keep fucking me like this.” He encourages in between the hot flashes of something rigidity and heavy building up inside him, “Yesyesyes-, I’m gonna cum-," The alien gasps with abruptinly bucking hips, "I'm gonna-, mmmgh, fuck!”

You lose your balance again and almost flop forward entirely but his hold on your hips keeps you upright, leaving your hands to gravitate to his face just as a single tear of pleasure rolls out of his left eye. The moment he feels it and you notice it, he starts thrusting up faster in an attempt to distract you from it.

“Ah! Mmgh," You moan, feeling the way he tries exasperatedly to bring you to tears instead, only to fail no matter how many times his cockhead weeps tender thwaks! against your cervix. "Cum inside me?" You choke, "B-But—“

“Wanna stuff you with all of me,” Dabura pours out throatily. It was like talking to a brick wall at this point, he was already smearing something warm 'n creamy into you as he spoke, “You’ll be so pretty with my seed dripping out of you so, please,” Another pitchy gasp cuts through the air, “Take it, let it be yours—for... for science, remember?”

Just then, you almost laugh. You probably would've if you weren't busy agreeing to his babbled words, nodding your head and chuckling, “Uhuhh, cum inside me then. M-Mmnh! For science."

banner art by Rororogi Mogera || tags (people who showed interest):

Precisely a day after she was adopted, Rover gently plopped the child onto their lap and opened a book containing a list of names, they spent hours scouring through the pages together and you often overheard Rover patiently explaining the meaning of each name the girl pointed to. She eventually settled on the name ‘Aemeath’, meaning ‘truth’ or ‘faithfulness’.

Being her new parents, you and Rover stressed over the littlest of things when it came to Aemeath. What if you weren’t cut out for this? What if Aemeath felt unsafe in this family? The questions and self-doubt were relentless. Because of that, the two of you bought stacks of parenting guidebooks to ensure that you both could raise Aemeath in the best environment possible.

As time passed, Aemeath settled comfortably into her new life, and she loves you both dearly! To her, Rover was the strict but protective caretaker she could always rely on and you were the one who would spoil her endlessly with gifts and affection (yet she avoids angering you in any manner after witnessing how you put Rover in a headlock when they kept leaving their sword lying around the house)

Family game nights are a must in your household, nothing beats being bundled up together in fuzzy blankets while playing the latest video games. Rover always lets Aemeath win, when you asked why, they merely replied with, “It builds her confidence.” Deep down, you know it’s because they adore how her eyes light up like two golden stars in the night sky when she’s happy.

Aemeath swears that she doesn’t have a favourite parent, yet whenever she lands herself in hot water, she always comes running to you to seek protection from Rover’s inevitable scoldings.

You tried being more stern with her, but unfortunately, the deadly combo of her puppy eyes and chubby cheeks are too cute to resist. (It’s super effective! Y/N fainted!)

In relation to the point above, Aemeath is definitely one well-fed child. You were adamant that she got all the nutrients needed as a still-growing girl so you made tons of delicious food for her to eat. Her cheeks are as squishy as memory foam.

Raising a child is difficult, but worry not, you and Rover still make time for yourselves. Once Aemeath is tucked in, the two of you like to relax in each other’s embrace and chat about anything interesting.

“Dearest,” Rover said one evening, their hand resting on your hip as they held you closer. “When does a joke become a dad joke?”

“Huh?” You answered, sitting up abruptly to process what they just said, “Uhh… when it’s not funny, I guess?”

“No,” Rover shakes their head, grinning like a maniac, “It’s when it becomes apparent.”

“...You’re lucky I love you.”

And just like that, the once intimate atmosphere was shattered by a singular dad joke.

Speaking of which, dad jokes have become much more frequent in your household ever since Aemeath entered your lives. Rover says it’s to lighten the mood. Aemeath doesn’t understand them half of the time and you facepalm whenever you happen to hear one.

Sometimes when you’re both busy and Aemeath has a question to ask, it ends up being the typical back and forth of “Go ask your mom/dad.” (Or “Go ask your other mom/dad” for the queer version). The poor kid just gives up after a while.

During the first month when Aemeath was taken in, she was unable to fall asleep on her own so you suggested that she sleep together with you both. It worked like a charm, but the habit lasted for a few years until Aemeath grew too big to fit in between you and Rover.

You love dressing Aemeath up in the cutest outfits you found at the mall, and she gets into it very easily. She likes strutting down the house corridors wearing various new dresses while Rover claps from the couch like they’re watching a runway fashion show.

There was an instance where Aemeath tried to convince you both to keep a snowfluff seal as a pet. Despite your numerous refusals, she decided to lure one home using some fish. Hours later, there was a full and content seal in the middle of your living room, much to Rover’s chagrin. (She got grounded for a week afterwards.)

Credits: borders by @/enchanthings, icons edited by me

Do not plagarise, copy, steal, or feed my work into AI. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

♡♡

Rounding the corner, his long legs making no accommodations for your shorter ones, he says, “No. If you wanted better results, you should have put in a better performance. Surely you’re smart enough to work out that that’s how life works.”

Hands grab his arm, yanking back with all your strength only to be dragged along with him and his burly body. Your heels scrape along the floor. People stare. You don’t care. “Don’t be an asshole. You know my essay was good. It was really good. Just give it a read. A proper one, and not the rushed job you do because you’re overworked and underpaid.”

He stops.

Your face bumps into this back, forehead nearly bruised by the hardness. 

His brows rise above his glasses as he fixes you a look. “Kid, your essay was good — decent introduction, clear structure, sufficient evidence — but it’s not good enough for the extra marks to push you into the top band. Your closing argument fell flat ‘cause of your wishy-washy writing style, you didn’t adequately humour the counter arguments and undermine them to strengthen your thesis, and, worst of all, you misspelt ‘complement.’”

A frown graces your features. 

“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”

“No. With an I, it’s to flatter someone. With an E, it’s to enhance, pair well, or complete another thing.” Toji explains rather robotically, eyes still dead and voice monotone. “For example, if I said you’re a pretty girl, that’s a compliment. And if I said, your essay goes well with the trashcan over there, that’s a statement that suggests the two complement each other. See the difference?”

He’s already stalking off again, hands in his pockets, huge stature unwilling to accommodate the people walking down the hallway. 

You break into a jog, panting embarrassingly by the time you reach him. “Dude, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve gone through a lot together. We’re basically friends. Can’t you do your best pal a solid?”

Toji glances down at you. He pushes a door open, holding it a second longer than he needed to. You follow behind him. Somewhat amused, he replies, “We know each other because we’re on the same course, not by choice. And I don’t know what you mean by the whole ‘we’ve gone through a lot together’ thing — the most dramatic thing we’ve faced is when the projector didn’t work and we had to go into a different hall. And we’re definitely not friends.”

Well, fuck, you’re running out of rope. 

“Then, let’s officially be friends,” you offer, elbowing him gently. “If you ever need help, buddy, I’ll always have your back.” Then, in an act of complete desperation, you begin shakily singing, “You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. When the road looks tough ahead—”

A heavy hand shoves you away by your head. You stumble into a bulletin board.

“Enough,” he gruffs. “My day’s already fucked because the prof lost his papers and wants to blame me. I don’t need to lose my hearing on top of that.”

Your head flits around. “Did you guys see that?” People give you weird looks. “He just shoved me. The TA just shoved me. We need to protest his violent behaviour by demanding he remarks our papers. Who’s with me?”

Everyone walks past without another look at you.

Toji, on the other hand, lifts his glasses and runs a hand down his face. Muttering something under his breath, he pushes a door open and holds out a hand before you can mindlessly follow. “It’s the men’s bathroom. Tell me you’re not shameless and stupid enough to come in here.”

“I’ll wait outside.”

His eye twitches. 

As though an idea comes to him, he straightens ever so slightly. “I’m gonna take a dump; you’ll be waiting a while.”

“That’s okay — I have no more classes so take your time but make sure you don’t stay sitting down longer than you need to,” you tell him, smiling innocently and standing aside to let a guy walk out, ignoring the freaked out face he makes at you. “You can get hemorrhoids."

He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.” 

That seems to be as much of you he can tolerate because he walks in without another word to you. Opposite the door, you lean against the wall, whistling and coming up with alternative lines you can pull on him. 

God, he’s so stubborn. 

It’s not like giving you the marks docks his pay or lowers the professor’s opinion of him. He’s clearly just being an ass. 

If he wasn’t such a good TA, a genuinely intelligent man, you would have gone above his head and asked for the prof’s personal assessment. But no, he has to be knowledgeable, a helpful source of information when you’re lost, someone who seems to know everything about any topic, who knows the exact pages of a textbook you should read to further your understanding, and who’s never declined a meeting for clarification on something you wrote. 

For years now, you two have had a friendship-like relationship, often sharing snacks and exchanging brief words before or after lectures and classes, despite what he says.

Everyone gets along with him, though you’ve never actually seen him hang out with friends or go to parties. Maybe he doesn’t have any. Word on the street is he works part time in a couple different places. Some say so he can afford drugs, some for tuition. 

The rumours never interested you, apart from any that mused about his love life, which seems to be nonexistent except for the many girls who hit on him. Not that you’re especially interested.

It’s just fun to be in the know.

Who knows how long has passed since he went in there. Your phone says fifteen minutes. Is that a normal amount of time for someone to be taking a dump?

Hesitantly, you push the door open and yell out, “Fushiguro? You doing okay? Is it stuck? For a couple extra marks, I’ll give you a hand.”

No one replies. 

Brows furrowing, you bend down, looking through the stalls. No feet. What the hell?

Ahead, a window is ajar. Big enough for a man to squeeze through. Well isn’t that convenient? The kind of convenient that exists only in fiction.

Aggrieved and feeling bamboozled, you stomp back to your dorm room, slamming the door, jumping face down on the bed and screaming into the pillows. You’d feel better if you knew he had a grudge on you, if you bumped into him the first day and spilled his coffee all over himself and he’d never forgotten it. Instead, he’s just like that: does things by the book, does his job well, and achieves the best grades with ease. 

Naturally, he’d become the professor’s assistant, a coveted position that seemed like it was made for him from the very beginning, and made your life a living hell because he won’t ever make concessions for you.

Sure, you shouldn’t ask him to, but it’s not like you’re asking for much. You’re generally a high performing student — punctual, hard working, ambitious — but you had one bad day which resulted in one bad essay and it lowered your average and now the internship you’d been eyeing could be snatched from your hands in a blink of an eye. 

“It’s just not fair,” you cry out to your teddy bear. “It’s three marks. Three! Would it kill him to reread my essay and find those three marks?”

Mr. Teddy stares back at you and says, “He’s a grumpy man. Don’t take it personally.”

You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.

“Teddy…you’re right. He is a grumpy man, a TA with broad shoulders, yummy arms, and thick thighs with a bubble butt, but a man nonetheless. If he won’t pull favours for me, student to student, maybe he’ll pull favours for me man to woman.”

The plushie falls to the bed as you stand, staring at yourself in the mirror and formulating a plan. 

With that you decide to seek him out the next day, sporting a new outfit and a different attitude.

.

.

.

“Hi.”

“Fuck off.”

The cafeteria’s busy. It always is. It’s loud enough that most people wouldn’t even hear the exchange — chairs banging on tile, trays clattering, someone laughing too loudly at a table nearby. 

Toji’s hunched slightly over a bowl of udon noodles, chopsticks moving lazily as he slurps them down. Some sports clip plays on his phone, propped against his dented metal water bottle. Commentators yell about something you don’t understand. His sleeves are pushed up over his forearms, revealing ropey muscle and the faint silvery line of an old scar running across his wrist.

An old hoodie hangs off his shoulders over a plain white T-shirt. Distressed jeans, worn sneakers. He’s too big for the plastic chair, long legs spread under the table. When he saw you approach, his feet had hooked onto the chair legs, forcing you to fight to remove it from his clutches so you could take a seat.

So damn rude.

His glasses have fogged slightly from the steam of the noodles.

He doesn’t look up. But he knows it’s you. You can tell by the way his mouth tightens for half a second before he goes back to eating.

You snatch his phone away. His green eyes flick up, annoyed. You smile, arms pushing your breasts together so they spill over your tight top. Toji’s gaze doesn’t waver. He continues to stare at you like you’re a pest. 

“You can’t take no for an answer?” he asks though it’s not a question at all. “Might want to retake the consent course.”

Manicured fingers walk up his bare forearm before scratching down from his elbow. His skin is warm. Light dusting of hair tickling your fingertips. “Oh, Toj, have I ever told you how handsome you are? Because you really are. You’re so damn hot I can hardly focus on the lectures.”

He snorts, still eating his noodles and still refusing to look at your cleavage. “That’ll explain why you’re missing marks.”

Jaw dropping, you force yourself to recover quickly. A heeled foot brushes against his calf, sliding his jeans up. You bat your lashes, sultrily saying, “The only thing I’m missing is your cock in me, big boy.”

Toji meets your eyes again. His scarred lips twitch. “I don’t need to tell you that was bad, do I?”

You cringe, foot dropping and whole body slumping back into the chair. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.” Then you sit up, handing him his phone, and asks, “Are the noodles good? I’ve never had them.”

Phone pocketed, he shrugs. “They’re just the cheapest deal on the menu. Growing girl like you should get something more filling.”

The menu’s extensive, and the only thing sticking out to you is the chicken burger and chicken tenders meal deal. It seems to be especially popular today but you’re not sure you can finish the whole thing. 

“Hey, if I get the Meal Super Cluck Blaster, will you share it with me? I’ve got dinner plans later so I don’t want to fill up.”

That finally gets a reaction. Toji leans back a little and gives you a slow once-over. Tight top. Lacy bra peeking up. Glossy lips. More jewellery than usual. His eyebrow lifts. “That why you’re dressed like a hooker?” he asks lazily. “Hot date?”

“Nah,” you reply, waving him off. “Wore this for yo— Wait.” You lean forward, staring at him wide eyed. “Are you jealous? Are you in love with me already? Because for extra marks, I’ll cancel my dinner plans and promise myself to you for all eternity.”

Toji rolls his eyes. “Go get something to eat; you sound insane.”

You hop up. “Okay, but stay there, alright? Take my burger because I only want the tenders. Oh, and will you share a pot of cheesecake with me? I’m lactose-intolerant but I really want cheesecake right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’s still here when you come back. 

As soon as you hand him the wrapped up burger, he scarfs it down the way big men do, like they haven’t eaten in days. You push him the tenders too. You’d actually gotten a double serving of everything so you have your own portion of tenders and he gets to eat another burger. There’s no way a man his size could survive on udon noodles.

“Also, let’s not act like you didn’t leave me hanging outside the men’s bathroom yesterday,” you bring up after sipping your juice. “Can’t believe you left through the bathroom window just so you could get away from me.”

“I didn’t,” he says, mouth full and adjusting his glasses. 

You frown, dipping a piece of chicken in hot honey. “No, you definitely did. I peeked and there were no feet in any of the stalls. Unless you’re telling me you can grow invisible.”

“Just lifted my legs when I heard you come in, which I knew your crazy ass would do, so I could finally leave in peace. Didn’t think it’d take you fifteen minutes though.”

A laugh escapes you. “You were waiting me out? Does that sound like the mature thing to do? Jeez, you need to act your age.”

Toji’s eyes meet yours. Your smile falters for the briefest second. “I’m not that much older than you,” he reminds you. “Only by two years.”

“And yet you call me kid or kiddo,” you retort, clearing your throat. Have his eyes always been that green and deep? And is his voice usually that husky and masculine? Because you could have sworn guys your age don’t sound like that.

He shrugs again, second burger finished in a blink of an eye. “Never hurts to remind yourself.”

“Remind yourself what?”

The legs of his chair screech as he pushes it back. He stands, picking up his tray, and answers, “Forget about it. Enjoy your dinner plans. And I’m taking the cheesecake — no one wants a gassy date.”

“Wait,” you call out before he can turn away. “My marks?”

A pat on the head ruffles your hair. 

“Still a no, kid.”

.

.

.

“What if I suck your dick?”

Toji lifts his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I’ve got a ton of papers to grade for another class; I don’t have time for you.”

The door shuts behind you. His office is bare, not a single decoration littering the place, not a plant nor a picture. 

His office is exactly how you remember it — disappointingly, aggressively empty. The walls are a dull institutional beige that makes the overhead fluorescent light feel even harsher. No posters. No photos. Not even a sad little plant struggling for life in the corner.

Just a desk. A filing cabinet. Two chairs that look like they were stolen from a waiting room. It’s the kind of office someone occupies temporarily, like he expects to leave at any moment and doesn’t see the point in settling in.

Leaning against the desk anyway, your fingers drum lazily along the edge.

You’ve been here before: once to argue about a paper he’d shredded with red ink, once because you’d missed an exam and needed him to sign a form, and once because you’d sworn you heard him swearing loud enough to be heard halfway down the hallway.

You grip his shoulder, squeezing as you scan the fat stack of papers on his desk — the prof’s particular about handwritten essays. There’s so much to read through; you do not want to be him. 

“God,” you mutter, flipping through a few pages of the stack. “There’s like fifty here.”

“Seventy-two,” Toji corrects without looking up. His handwriting is sharp and aggressive, red ink slashing through entire paragraphs like he’s committing academic murder. You wince in sympathy for whoever wrote the paper currently being dismantled.

“Good thing you can multitask, can’t you? I’ll suck your dick under the desk, you grade papers, and you bump me up a grade. Easy.”

He shrugs you off, hulking body hunched over and pen scratching on the papers, leaving harsh circles and comments like, ‘what the hell does this mean?’ and ‘you can’t just say perchance.’ 

Toji gruffs, “I’m serious. Take your jokes elsewhere.”

Nah, you think to yourself. 

With a massive struggle against his weight, you yank his chair back, wheeling him a distance from the desk and clambering under before he can fill the space again. He makes some noise above you but you pay him no mind. Your hands rest on his meaty thighs through his sweatpants, marvelling at the density, at the strength you find in them. 

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” His foot nudges your knee. “Get the fuck out. I’ll cropdust you if I have to.”

You call his bluff by clutching his clothed cock. He jolts, grunting. Laughing softly, you muse, “You say all that but you have a semi already — did my proposition get you hard, Toji?”

You’re rubbing his hard on, trying not to get flustered by how big he feels, and how fat the girth is. Of course he’s big. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been so surprised; he’s a big man so naturally the proportions will match up. 

“Suck my dick, don’t suck my dick, it doesn’t matter,” he says, sighing and probably pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not getting those marks.”

He thinks that’ll stave you off because he knows you’re whoring yourself out for a grade. What he doesn’t know is that your stupid little brain’s already forgotten about all of that the moment you felt his cock. Now all you can think about is how you’ll have to stretch your lips nice and wide to take him in, and even then, even when your throat is lax and loose, you won’t be able to take him to the base. 

Toji grunts again, peering down at you. “You mouthing at my dick? Did’ya not hear what I said?”

Like you’ve been possessed, you press kisses to where his tip is, humming around it. “I heard, but your dick’s saying other things to me, and I know which I prefer to listen to.”

“My dick’s not marking your paper, so get the fuck up,” he growls.

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’re fucking killing me here.”

A heavy hand bundles your hair up, pulling but you fight against it, hooking your fingers under the waistband and releasing him from the constraints. His boxers have a hole, and yet you only find it endearing. Freeing his cock so it bounces up and smacks your cheek, it leaves a wet mark on your skin. 

Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin. 

Oh fuck, he really is big. 

With nothing between you and his dick, you can see him in all his glory in the partial shadow of under his desk — long, thick, flushed red, already shiny at the slit, veiny as hell, hairs at the base wild and unruly, with weighty balls to match. You’ve never seen anything better. 

Tongue out, you lick him from base to tip, prodding at his frenulum.

“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth. 

You moan wantonly, already addicted to the salt on his kin, to the texture of his veins, to the softness of his cockhead. “Toji, you’re so big. I don’t think this’ll fit inside me.”

The thing throbs, bobbing. A droplet oozes out and you quickly lick it up. The hand that was pulling your hair has grown slack, simply resting on the back of your head, keeping you from bumping the wood. 

Voice hoarse, he mutters, “If anyone can make it fit, it’ll be your stubborn ass.”

Your eyes meet his from under the desk, mischief sparkling in them you’re sure. His cock throbs again. “I thought you had papers to mark, Fushiguro. Maybe you should get on that, no?”

A calloused thumb presses down on your lips, shushing you. It slides down, bringing your bottom lip down with it, before releasing it so it’ll bounce back in place. That same thumb holds your jaw open, hand guiding your mouth to his tip. You know what he wants. You also know that he knows that you both know that you won this time. 

Wide as you can, you take as much of his length as possible. You don’t get much further than a third of the way, full beyond belief and overwhelmed by just how much of him there still is. Your nails dig into his thighs.

“If this is supposed to convince me to give you extra marks, then you’re failing real hard, doll,” he notes, gripping the base. “Can barely fit the head, can you?”

He’s acting like it’s your fault he’s so big. 

Challenged, you loosen your throat to take him an inch deeper. You gag around the length. Toji curses under his breath. “Careful,” he mutters. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You ignore him in favour of shallowly bobbing, sucking and licking what you can, as though he’s a lollipop. It’s actually kinda fun.

The familiar sound of pen scratching on paper and paper rubbing on paper echoes in the relatively quiet office. Only the wet sounds of your mouth sucking his cockhead pierces the silence. 

Growing more and more used to his size, you flick your tongue around the head, letting your hands wrap around the rest of him, squeezing and tugging in time with your mouth. Occasionally, he makes a couple breathy noises — low grunts when your tongue laps up his tip, gravelly groans when you hollow your cheek to suck, and rough exhales through his nose when you grip his balls, massaging them, thumb rubbing the seam. 

It becomes easier to forget why you were here in the first place; you’re just blowing him for your own entertainment now, wanting something to occupy your throat. 

Then, he asks, as though he’s making casual conversation, “How was the date?”

“Hmm?”

Toji rolls his eyes. “The date,” he repeats. “How was it? He pay for the meal? Open doors, see you to your door, kiss you goodnight and shit?”

Your lips stretch into a smile. You release him with a pop! “I didn’t go on a date,” you tell him. “My friends hosted a housewarming party because they moved in together. I had a great time, thanks for asking.”

Is he pleased? Unaffected? Genuinely just making conversation? Hard to tell, except for the pushing of his hand, urging you back to his dick, and taking him further inside your throat, till his tip bumps the back of the gummy walls. 

“Good,” he exhales out, thighs flexing around your body. “That’s real good.”

“My blowjob skills or that I had a great time?” you ask, words muffled and barely understandable.

“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”

A knock on the door has you both stiffening. Toji glares down at you and whispers, “It’s the prof. Do not make a sound.”

He didn’t need to tell you that — you’re well aware that if you get caught, you’ll both face disciplinary action, and will likely be kicked out of the university. That’s worse than not getting the internship. 

The office falls quiet so suddenly you can hear the ticking of the wall clock. Toji’s hand tightens briefly against the desk as the knock comes again. “Come in,” he calls, voice steady.

The door opens before he even finishes the word.

“Ah, Fushiguro, there you are,” the professor says, stepping inside with a stack of papers tucked under one arm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d left already.”

From your position under the desk, you can only see shoes. Polished leather. Slow steps across the floor. You don’t slide his cock out of your throat, lest it makes a sloppy noise that’ll give you both away. So you breathe through your nose, being very, very quiet.

“No, I was just finishing up some grading,” Toji replies, cool as a cucumber.

His tone is annoyingly normal. Completely unbothered. He’s really convincing. Has he done this before? Is this a normal occurrence? Do a lot of girls offer to blow him for better marks, and does he take them up on it? Are you the one exception to his generosity? 

“Good, good.” Papers shuffle. A chair creaks as the professor sits across from the desk. “I actually wanted to ask about the research methods essays.”

Of course he did.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Toji shifts slightly above you — just enough that the movement brushes your shoulder — and then he leans back in his chair. “Yeah?” he says.

“I noticed something odd in the submissions this year,” the professor continues. “Half the class seems to misunderstand the section on sampling bias.”

He hums thoughtfully. “You mean where they’re supposed to explain the limitations of convenience sampling?”

“Exactly.”

A sheet of paper slides across the desk.

“You see this one here—”

From below, you hear Toji pick it up.

“—they describe the method correctly, but their conclusion contradicts their own analysis.”

There’s a pause whilst the TA reads. You stare at the underside of the desk and try not to shift your knees. God, this is like torture. Having a cock lodged in your throat and not being able to do anything with it is hell. Above the desk, they’re chatting away, talking about your fellow students, with the professor none the wiser that one such student’s under the desk. 

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “They’re treating correlation like it proves causation.”

“Precisely!” the professor says, sounding delighted. “It’s surprisingly common.” Another pause. You hear a pen tap the desk twice. “I was thinking next year we might restructure the lecture slightly,” the professor continues. “Maybe introduce a short case study before the assignment.”

“Could work,” Toji replies. “Give them something concrete, tangible, to analyse.”

Your legs are starting to cramp. Your lips tighten around his hot cock. Toji brushes your hair back from your face, a quiet act to show he hasn’t forgotten about you. The professor keeps talking, completely unaware.

“Also,” he says, shuffling more papers, “the literature review sections were stronger this year.”

“Mm.”

“I suspect the workshop helped.”

Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.

“You handled that well, by the way,” the professor adds. “The students seem to respond to your feedback.”

This is way too boring, you decide. In an act you might end up regretting for the rest of your life, your offended tongue prods his tip where he’s still leaking salty precum. 

He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood. 

The professor asks him if he’s alright, and Toji replies, “Fine. Sorry. Just had a cramp.”

A triumphant smile pulls at your lips, which is quickly wiped away by the sudden pinch at your cheek. You wince, unable to smack him in retaliation. 

A sigh fills the room. “I fear you work too hard, Fushiguro. You ought to take a break here and there. Do something fun and wild, or whatever it is people your age do nowadays.”

“I am having fun,” Toji says, hand coming back to rest on your head, growing heavier and heavier until you’re forced to take him inside your mouth, deeper and deeper. “In my own way.”

He’s filling you up more than he was before, now more insistent, no longer so passive. You’re struggling to take him but he’s not letting up. Fuck, you’re soaked between the legs. Who knew you had an oral fixation?

“Well, good,” the professor says. He pushes his chair back. Your heart jumps in joy. “I won’t keep you any longer, I know those papers won’t mark themselves. Boy do I not envy you.” He laughs. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, Professor.”

Footsteps move toward the door. The handle turns. The door opens. Closes. Silence. Two seconds pass.

Then Toji peers down, licking his scarred lips, and mutters under his breath, “You needy fucking girl. Couldn’t wait, could you? Couldn’t resist not being a pain my fucking ass. If you want cock so badly, then here you go.”

His hips thrust up, hand keeping you in place. Your eyes fly open, throat stretching to take all of him in. Oh, he was as pent up, as frustrated, as you were. The force in which he’s rutting inside your throat displays that nice and clear. 

“You’ll do anything for a good grade, won’t you? Even debase yourself like this. God, you drive me crazy.”

You gag around his cock but he doesn’t pay any mind to that. No, Toji’s just rutting inside your mouth over and over again, grunting louder and louder now. 

Meanwhile, your hand seeks out the heat between your legs. You grind against the heel of your palm, moaning around his length. The vibration has his balls tightening up.

“Fuck!”

Hot cum bursts inside, coating the walls of your throat and your tongue. 

Toji leans back in his chair, which creaks. You pull him out, coughing at the salty burn. Damn, even his loads are big. It’s like a cream puff exploded inside your mouth. 

Hands carry you up, sitting you on his thigh. One rubs your back in circles, the other wipes away the tears at your eyes, licking at the wetness he’s collected on his thumb. “You good, kid?” he asks, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah,” you respond, voice hoarse and not fooling anyone. “I’m good.”

You take a sip of his water from his water bottle, not caring about the fact that you’re drinking from where he had been, and if he cared that your mouth which had been sucking on his dick and cum is on his cup, he didn’t say.

He sighs, tucking himself back in and says, “Come by my place tonight. Hand me your essay again and I’ll reread it. But I’m not making any promises about finding extra marks, alright? It’s just a second chance, and the only one you’ll get.”

Dopily, you smile at him. “Throat game that good, huh?”

His lips twitch. He shoves you away, smacking your ass as you walk away.

“I’ll text you the time and place. Don’t be late.”

Nodding, you head for the door, not leaving however till you ask, “Should I wear matching underwear, or is this a strictly keep your clothes on meeting?”

“Fuck off before I regret it.”

“Lacy thong it is!”

.

.

.

“Should I spread my legs now or do you want me to fluff you first?”

Toji’s deadpan face meets you when he opens the door. He sighs as though he’s regretting this already. Regardless, he lets you in. 

You can tell he showered recently — there’s the scent of cheap soap lingering on his skin and his hair is still a little damp. 

His apartment is nice and clean, which surprises you somewhat. Most guys your age tend to be messy. But you should have known the TA would be neat and organised. 

“I’m serious,” you begin, snuggling up to his side and batting your lashes up at him, “what position do you want me? I’m not the most flexible but I’m not too bad.”

Shaking you off, he pushes you in the direction of the living room where the coffee table is covered with carefully laid out papers he no doubt carried from campus to continue working on. “Go sit down, you horny gremlin. Make some room for your essay and let’s get this over with.”

You do as he says, folding your legs so you can sit by the coffee table on the rug. You take the essay out of your bag, shoving all the others to the side. With a frown, you ask, “So we’re really not fucking?”

He folds himself down too, sitting beside you, knee brushing yours. “I don’t solicit sex in exchange for academic favours. Dunno why you’re so surprised by that — can’t recall having done anything to make you think otherwise.”

“Well, you did give in after I blew you, so…”

“I was gonna offer before you did all that,” he informs you, snorting. “Just never promised to give you the marks.”

Toji adjusts his glasses, taking your papers and starting his reassessment of it. His lips purses, brows furrows, and he stares at the thing like it could tell him the answers to the universe. That or it’s so bad he just can’t fathom what you were thinking. 

“Second paragraph, third line, why the hell is it so convoluted?” he asks, voice returning to that grumpy tone you’re more than familiar with now.

It’s the latter, it would seem. He really meant business. You shaved and everything for nothing. What a shame. 

Leaning over, you rest your head on his big bicep, and, with a pout, reply, “I thought it sounded smart; I was pretty proud of that line actually.”

“No, doll,” Toji says, sighing. “The simpler the better. Don’t purposefully complicate your syntax. Only do what’s necessary to get the point across. If I, an expert in this topic, can barely understand what you mean, how is the ordinary person supposed to?”

“Yeah, okay. Simple is better, I get it.”

He continues reading, red pen in hand and making annotations as he goes. Meanwhile, you’re worming your way into his lap: one hand resting on his thigh at first, then a leg thrown over his. He notices what you’re doing — there’s no way he doesn’t know — but he doesn’t put up a fight. Eventually, you’re sitting in his lap, his chin resting on your head, and his arms caging you in. 

Toji’s warm. He’s comfy to rest on despite all the muscles. Closer now, his soapy scent envelops you. It goes straight to your head. You find yourself squirming. 

“Keep still,” he reprimands, underlining a phrase twice for emphasis. “You can’t just use jargon if you’re not going to explain it. It’s bad practice.”

“Got it.” Fiddling with his spare hand, running your fingers down his and over his palm, you ask, “Are academics supposed to have calluses?”

“They bother you or something?”

“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

He hums. “I do odd jobs here and there, some more manual than others so yeah I built up some calluses.” Without missing a beat, he pivots the topic. “Tell me again what the difference is between compliment and complement.”

You bring that hand up to your breast, imploring him to grope your tits as you reply, “With an I is to praise someone or something, and with an e is to say something matches well with another.”

A moan escapes your lips when he squeezes in approval. Toji mutters, “Good girl. Guess you do listen to me.” Thumb brushing your hardened nipple through the thin material of your top, you squirm in his lap. His lips move against the top of your head. “No bra?”

“I figured you were going to take it off me anyway so I didn’t bother,” you say, still pressing his hand to your tit, riding the motions of every grope and flick of your nipple. 

Another hum. 

Slowly, you guide that hand down lower. He must know what you’re doing, where you want it to end up, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand or put up any resistance; he’s curious to see how far you’re willing to go. And you’re curious to see how much restraint he has, how long he can hold out before his façade of nonchalance breaks and he’s fucking up inside you.

You tease yourself, and him, first — his fingers, with your guidance, tease your bare thighs, following the hem of your tight skirt. Growing breathless, you ask, “What kind of odd jobs do you do?”

Toji’s calluses tickle the sensitive skin in your inner thighs just right. He’s still marking your paper, occasionally fact-checking your ideas and his theories in a textbook on the table. Amused, he retorts, “You curious about me, doll?”

“Hmm, I want to know exactly whose cock will be stretching me out in a minute.”

He snorts, patting your clothed pussy. You jolt with every impact. “I tutor on the side. Fix up some cars in the garage in town. I’m a physical trainer for three clients at the local gym too. And when I’m low on money, I sell risqué pictures of myself. That disgust you?”

All while he answers, Toji’s blunt nails scrape your slit through your panties. He’s not applying much pressure at all, if any, and yet every skim, every travel up and down has goosebumps rising on your skin.

“N-no,” you answer quickly. “I think that’s really cool. If I had a body like yours, I’d take pictures all the time too.”

His laughter rumbles in his chest. An odd sense of pride warms your own. He says, “Your body’s more than good enough to sell too, you know. Don’t act like you don’t know guys give you double takes all the time, or that your ass could stop traffic.”

Giggling, you lean back, gazing up at him with a smile. “Do you stare at my ass sometimes, Toji?”

God, you’re soaked. You can tell, though you’re not embarrassed whatsoever. If anything, you’re just itching for him to pull your panties to the side and touch you skin to skin, to plunge inside your pussy and make a mess out of you.

“Tell me where you can, and should, insert a semi-colon in paragraph six, and I’ll give you an honest answer.” 

He nudges you with his chin. “Go on. Quit thinking with your pussy and give me the right answer.” A little aggrieved, you sit up straight, holding his wrist to keep his hand between your legs. Your eyes scan the section. Tentatively, you point to a full stop on the second line. Toji shakes his head and smacks your clothed pussy again. “Try again, and don’t guess.”

“Here,” you snarl, feeling way past pent up. “Now give me my reward.”

Toji huffs. “Semi-colons help for varying sentence structures. It’s in the little ways you can convey your points compellingly. Don’t underutilise the right punctuations.”

“Yeah, yeah, smarty pants. Rub my clit and answer my question already.”

Cool air brushes against your swollen, glistening lips. You sigh when his warm hand covers the entire slit barely a second later. His middle fingers are instantly coated in your wetness. He groans. “Fuck, doll, you’re dripping.” Toji doesn’t give you a moment to respond to that; his fingers rub at your throbbing clit in tight circles, drawing it out of his hood. You moan, back arching. 

Finally, he answers, “I stare at your ass all the fucking time after I glare at the losers whose eyes wander from their laptop screens . I’m a big, fucking hypocrite — that what you wanna hear?”

“Fuck yes!”

Rustling of paper reaches your ears. Then two hands are on you: one furiously rubbing the bundle of nerves and the other gripping your throat. He squeezes threateningly. Your vision spots, jaw dropping. “Look at you, all desperate to have my cock inside you. And for what? For a couple marks? You’re not ashamed?”

Your ass is grinding back on his boner, sandwiching the hard thing between your cheeks as your own answer. How could you be ashamed when he wants you so bad too?

“I’m horny! Are you gonna fuck me or not?”

In a split second, you find your world spinning. Your back falls on something hard. You’re staring up at the ceiling, papers scattered beneath you. Rough hands tug you down by your thighs. When you peer down, Toji’s staring up at you from between your lips.

“Yeah, I’m fucking you. You already knew I was gonna. You gonna let me taste your pussy first?” A challenging brow quirks up, like he’s waiting for you to push him away. 

Instead, your legs hook over his shoulders, ankles crossed. You grin at him.

Panties pulled to the side, his fingers spread your pussy for him. Those eyes scan every inch. He releases a shaky breath, cheeks flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing. “Even your pussy’s pretty. Fucking gorgeous.” Running a hand through his hair, he says, “You’re always such a pain, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help that every part of me’s pretty,” you reply, twirling your hair.

“Shut up and play with your tits — I like a show with my dinner.” Toji spits a fat dollop right on your clit. It slides down your slit but before it can disappear in the crevice of your ass, his tongue is collecting it and shoving it inside your cunt. 

You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”

In spite of his aggressive tone, you pull down your top, letting your tits bounce out. Those eyes follow every jiggle. “Good girl,” he rasps. “Squeeze them for me nice and hard. Good. Real fucking good.”

His glasses are foggy now with your own humidity, rattling with every movement. He’s eating your pussy out like he’s starved, like he’s never tasted anything better, like he’s going to make sure not a single trace of you can be found in his apartment after he’s done with you. 

Growling, he spread your thighs wider. “Course you’ve got a sweet pussy,” he says, brows furrowing in what appears to be anger. “Course it’s sweeter than that fucking cheesecake. Course I’ll be craving you till I die.”

Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging for purchase. “Ngh, Toji, my clit…suck my clit!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Those scarred lips, the very ones you’ve stared at more times than you can count, wrap around your clit, sucking hard the way you did when you were blowing him under the desk. Electricity sparks inside, sending tremors up from your lower belly to your tits to the very tips of your fingers. “Oh fuck, that’s so good.”

Filthy squelches are being wrung out of you, and you know he’s doing it on purpose, addicted to how responsive your body is to him.

Two fingers worm their way through your pulsing hole, basking in the rough textures of your entrance, stretching your gummy walls on their way to curling against that spot that has you oozing more cum out. 

“You’re fucking tight,” he hisses. “You’re gonna struggle taking all of me later.” Then he barks a laugh, spare hand pressing down on your belly where the pressure builds up. Your toes curl. “A better man would take pity on you, go slow or wait another day, but I’ve already had my tongue inside your cunt so I’ll spare you the gentleman act.”

More fingers shove in, ignoring the screech that you let out. You’ve never had more than two and yet all four of his thicker, longer fingers are inside pushing your walls to their very limits. 

Despite that, he remarks, entertained by the shock on your face which he studies through his glasses, “Suck it up, buttercup — my cock’s thicker than this, you know that.”

You do. 

It’s all you’ve been thinking about all day. Hours after, your jaw’s still stretched out, sore and creaking after the workout you put it through. The thought of having something even thicker, longer than his four fingers has you growing dizzy, head handing over the coffee table.

“Yeah, my cock can’t wait to feel you too,” Toji says, not to you but to your pussy which is squelching lewdly and loudly. “Had to resist jerking my dick raw all day so you better make it good for me.”

Is it seconds later, or minutes, maybe hours, when you cum?

How ever long it is no one can deny it’s the strongest orgasm of your life. 

Your entire body trembles, spasming beyond control. Are you screaming or silently moaning? Are your eyes shut or have you gone blind? And is he still pistoning his fingers inside you, damn near pushing all of his hand in? 

“Stop,” you cry out. “No more, please!”

Mercifully, he yanks his hand out. Unfortunately, it leaves you feeling so empty you immediately crave the feeling of his hand gripping you from inside. 

Lips and chin glistening, he kisses both inner thighs, which tremble. 

Toji gathers you with one arm, showing off his strength as he carries you off the table and to the glass door which leads out to the balcony. It’s dark out and all you can see are the lights of people’s rooms in the apartment across. There are families lounging, dogs sleeping, TV’s blaring. 

Behind you, you hear the rustling of his shirt as he throws it off carelessly. Bare skin grazes your own soon after his hands make quick work of the clothes you’re still wearing. In a flash, you’re naked. He bends down to pick up your fallen panties, inhaling the gusset deeply. Your legs cross tightly at the deeply satisfied groan he lets out. 

“Next office hour,” he starts, lazily spreading your pussy lips and smearing your juices around so he can listen to the squelches and keep your squirming, “you better leave your panties with me. Consider it payment.”

You laugh. “Sure.”

Groggily, you try to keep your head up, wondering what you’re doing by the window, still a little out of it. A hand clutches your jaw, aiding you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you against this window,” he announces, leaving no room for arguments. “You want those extra marks? Then you’re gonna be a good girl and take my cock like a champ.”

Ass gyrating back against the hot, heavy thing still confined in sweatpants, you wonder, “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?”

He lets go of you. You have to catch yourself by pressing your palms to the cold glass. Toji drags your hips back, foot kicking your legs apart. His cock plops onto your ass, scalding. “No, I have a ‘get my time’s worth from shameless women who waste my time with demands for better grades by humiliating them’ kink.”

“Sounds long. We should get that shortened,” you drawl.

His cockhead slides through your pussy, coating itself in your wetness. The fat thing bumps against your clit. You shudder. 

Satisfied with your natural lubrication, he prods your entrance. “Yeah, we should. Let’s call it, Shut The Fuck Up And Take It.”

Then he enters you in one go.

You scream.

The window fogs up with your breath. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

You’re taking so much of his length so quickly that it should be painful. Despite that, there’s not an ounce of pain, not one you didn’t like at least — only the overwhelming pleasure of being filled up is resonating. 

Toji grunts. “Almost had to fist this cunt and you’re -hah fuck- still too tight.”

Pummelling his cock in, his hips don’t pause for a second. You gasp for breath, palms slipping and sliding on the condensation that’s built up on the glass. It’s like you can feel him in your lungs, so impossibly deep, so hot, so intimidating. 

“God, it should be a crime to have a body like this,” he says, hands groping every part of your flesh he can reach. He slaps your ass to watch it jiggle for him. He’s an ass man, that much is clear.

The force of his thrusting has you pushed closer to the glass, so close now that almost your entire front is flush with the surface. The coldness grazes your nipples. You moan. 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

He tugs you back to him, body sliding down the glass till your ass is jutted out. Toji carries your hips up so you can reach him, but it means your toes are only brushing the floor. You cling to the glass door as much as you can. Through the glossy haze, you see the marks you left on the glass, from the oils and sweat on your skin. You see the outline of your tits, all round and fat, the handprints you left and the smearing of them all over the place because you couldn’t grapple with one position to have them in. 

Are people watching? Are you flashing a poor old man, are you reigniting a sexual appetite in a pitiful divorcee, making a housewife jealous, creating fantasies for some guy your age? Are people rubbing one out to the flashes of ecstasy on your face, to the swaying of your tits, to the rippling of your ass?

Toji’s fingers creep under you, furiously teasing your clit. You whine. “I think I’m gonna cum again.”

“Go on, gorgeous,” he rasps. “Lemme feel you cum around my cock. Make my dreams come true.”

Two fingers gather the cream that’s formed a ring at his base. He draws three letters on the glass for you to stare at. It spells out c u m.

God, he’s dirty.

Another orgasm ripples through you. Your thighs shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Toji!”

He growls out, hands tightening their grip on your hips, threatening to bruise, “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum early.”

Without waiting for you to come down from your high, he flips you around. Your back thuds against the door. His cock reenters you in a clean, easy slide, cunt beyond soaked and stretched out. Your arms and legs wrap around him. 

Those glasses of him have fogged up so thickly now that they fail to serve their purpose. Toji takes it off with one hand, sliding it onto your head, like a headband keeping your face clear of your hair. “Don’t let them fall,” he orders. “They break and you won’t be getting that internship.”

And his lips?

They smack against yours.

He kisses you, all tongue and teeth and drool dripping down chins, like he’s been waiting weeks, months, perhaps years to do that. And you kiss him back just the same. 

Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches. 

“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”

The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this. 

Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.

Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”

Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”

His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain. 

“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts. 

You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”

“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”

“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”

Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”

He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows. 

Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!

Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you. 

Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button. 

“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”

“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear. 

Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”

His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours. 

When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream. 

“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after. 

Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans. 

He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs. 

Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy. 

Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them. 

“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”

Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”

“Thanks!” you chirp. 

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

.

.

.

“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”

Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.

“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”

That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.

Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.

After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official. 

In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together. 

A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by. 

“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.

Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”

“Mmm.”

“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”

You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”

“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words. 

In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.

“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”

The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.

Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?

“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”

Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”

You go still, this time for a different reason. 

Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”

The bastard’s trying to distract you…

“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”

Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?

Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you. 

“Don’t mention it, Professor.”

The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants. 

He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.” 

Your jaw drops. 

Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.” 

“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.” 

The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again. 

“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.” 

Your heart? 

Drops to the fucking floor.

Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.

Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—

Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”

Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense. 

Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”

“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good. 

Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.  

Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.

“You sneaky piece of shit!”

He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.

Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”

“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”

“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.

“Whore,” he fires back.

Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.

“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.

Toji’s scar brushes your forehead with his kiss. 

“That’s the plan.”