Hiya!

The automatic doors slide open with a soft, mechanic whir, allowing only you to enter the most secure room in the whole Sereitei.

The man you seek sits at his desk, his focus split across the many screens in front of him as he juggles calculations, designs, projections and reports in a shocking display of stunning brilliance and multitasking. His jaw is set and his lips relaxed in that upside down smile that reveals a glimpse of his upper teeth. A small line forms between his eyebrows as his honeyed eyes fly from right to left taking in information at vertiginous speed.

Your steps land quietly on the tatami, and it's not until you're just behind him that you speak, letting your voice drop down to a low, inviting rumble.

"It's late, Master... shouldn't you get some rest?"

Words are curious things, small vibrations travelling through the air to transfer our thoughts into another's conscience. Some are clear and concise, others can contain secret little codes that only a few fortunate can extract meaning from.

Master, a title that can have so many subtly different definitions. When you use it in place of Captain, it becomes an unmistakable signal to Mayuri Kurotsuchi. It signifies you are in need of him. If his reply contains your given name, you understand he's not in a headspace conducive to the satisfaction of your desires, and to try again another time. However...

The corners of his mouth quirck upwards.

He doesn't take his eyes of the screen, the clicking of his long fingers on the keyboard somehow becoming more rapid.

"Late is such a relative term..." he drawls, his voice a little hoarse with disuse. One could argue three am is actually very early, pet." His speech is clipped, to the ignorant ear it might sound irritated, but you now how to interpret the subtle inflections of his cadence.

A sudden warmth pools low in your abdomen, a pang of excitement twisting the pit of your stomach.

The appellative allows you to move forward, until your hands find their place on his rounded shoulders to gently squeeze the tight muscles. He releases a little hiss through his golden teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to indulge in the release of endorphines that comes with your touch.

The tension gives way gradually, his breaths turn deeper, his upper back finally unchlenching and dropping, yielding to the pressure of your fingers.

"Take it off, will you?" He mutters as he finally reclines, giving in to your wishes.

Unable to fight back a smile, you watch his head fall back, the slope of his neck exposed to you, his pulse thrumming under the paint.

You remove his headdress first, wondering how he can carry such weight all day long, and then slip off his scarf, revealing more of that decadent column of taut muscle and the many marks that adorn it and he refuses to heal away, for they speak of your time together. He likes the way they throb when they're fresh, and loves to see them morph from raised purple welts to faint yellow patches begging to be angered again.

The golden mask comes next. It decouples with a soft click, freeing the sharp angle of his jaws for you to take advantage of. A soft kiss lands there, your lips barely brushing his skin, then another a little further up, then another... his mouth calls for yours, responding to your need with ravenous hunger and white hot desire.

"Sit on my lap..." he whispers quietly against your lips, a raspy, throaty sound that makes your knees weak and shivery.

His legs are thin but strong, supporting your weight without struggle. As you straddle him, giddy with anticipation, his hands come to cup the roundness of your ass and pull you closer against the heat of his body.

You snake your arms around his neck, buring your face into his cobalt hair so you can inhale the heady scent of bitter almonds and formaldehyde.

A sharp bite on the lobe of your ear followed by the flick of his tongue over the sore spot makes you draw in a sharp breath.

"Grind."

That's all he says, all he needs to say.

With a premonitory moan you begin to rock your hips slow and deliberate, pressing against him for a long second before swaying back again.

He walks the chair closer to his desk, caging you between his arms as he resumes his work. The tapping on the keys is loud and fast, the perfect background for all the little noises you're letting out as he kisses and nibbles the slope of your neck.

You hump him a little harder, exhilaration taking over as you feel his cock waking up, he lets out a deep, stuttered grunt. A forbidden confession of how much he's loving this. As much as you are.

"Ah, pet... yes, keep going, like that... faster, ahh... that's it. Ahh... damn, I can feel your wetness through the layers." One of his hands darts to your waist, pushing you down to increase the friction. His breaths turn needy and shallow, his own hips moving back and forth to meet yours.

Pleasure builds up between your legs like a fiery ball threatening to burst, scorching heat trickling up your spine every time your clit rubs against him.

He can tell you are close, he knows you so damn well. All the little tells, the way you hold your breath, the way you bite your lower lip to ground yourself and last just a little longer...

His slim digits dig possessively into your flesh as he growls in your ear, "cum for me pet... ahh... cum for Master. Make a big, big mess for me, come on, let go of it all. Everything. Mine. Ahh..."

Your rhythm devolves into a blind frenzy of desperate pleasure. He wraps both arms around you now, dragging you against his core, keeping you close and sinks his golden teeth into your delicate pulse as you scream your release, translucent spurts gushing out of you with every spasm of your empty hole.

"Ah... fuck... FUCK!" He doesn't last. He can't. It's pathetic, he knows it, but he falls off the edge of the precipice to join you in an ocean of bliss the moment the warmth of your arousal seeps through his hakama to bathe his skin. His cock twitches violently as he cums, thick ropes of pearly seed that stay trapped between your contorting bodies as he grinds and grunts.

His breaths hit the damp skin of your shoulder, where his mouth continues to lay claim with greedy kisses and cruel bites. The sticky mess you two have created feels so comforting and warm you can't help but squirm impossibly closer to him.

A part of you wants to keep going, to cum again nestled against him but you can feel his body slacking now, his exhaustion catching up to him.

"You work too much, Mayuri." You whisper softly, brushing back the strands of wet hair that have fallen over his beautiful golden eyes. Your lips press tenderly against his temple, stretching into a smile when you feel him shudder pleasurably against you.

Perhaps you can relax a little longer, in his arms, enjoying the way his fingers draw tingly little patterns across your back, and he nuzzles the crook of your neck wanting to inhale nothing but your delectable scent. At least until you both catch your breath, and the synchronised beating of your hearts settle down from their still frantic rhythm.

Soon, he'll lift you up with little effort, despite his slim and apparently weak frame. And you'll wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bath. There, he'll eat you out, and make you cum twice on his tongue, because Mayuri Kurotsuchi is a greedy man, and you're the most mouthwatering treat he could ever hope for. Only when you're exhausted, drained of all your sweet little juices, will he take you to his bed and let you snuggle against him until sleep takes you.

Like a shadow, and more reluctantly than he wishes to admit, he'll detangle from your limbs and return to his lab, to continue his work.

Sukuna is about to respond with his own opinion that, once you come into contact with his unbridled amounts of energy, Yuji Itadori is not cute- his pierced lips hang open, poised and ready to speak, until you move to scoop Yuji’s friend into your arms and Sukuna stands there stupidly.

“Nobara!” You beam, “how was school?”

She grins proudly. “Really great! Me and Yuji spoke to Megumi all day, but he had to leave early to see the- the dentist.” She whispers quietly, voice dropping as she looks around like the dentist in question will jump out of a nearby bush, “I hope his teeth are okay.”

“I’m sure they are.” You laugh and turn to Yuji, who’s trying to climb Sukuna like a tree, little tongue poked out in concentration as he tries to scale his leg. “Oh, you’re here for Yuji!” You say surprisedly, “you aren’t Jin.”

“Definitely not.” Sukuna grumbles, pulling Yuji away from his jeans with one hand and little strength required.

“Yeah, this is my Uncle Kuna!” Yuji beams, hugging Sukuna’s leg, smile like sunshine as you take Nobara’s backpack from her. “He’s really tall, and mean- but not to me!- and cool, and he has loadssss of tattoos, and he uses bad words-“

“Brat.” Sukuna mutters, before turning back to you and trying his best to recover. “Wow, I didn’t know they let siblings do pick ups.”

Nobara rolls her eyes. “She’s my mommy, idiot.” Sukuna glares at her- the one time he comes to collect Yuji, the one time a pretty lady seems interested in him, and it’s ruined by her daughter?

You giggle, and the sound melts like honey in Sukuna’s ears; you really are pretty, he thinks, eyeing up the warmth in your face and the motherly lilt to your voice when you speak to Nobara. And he definitely isn’t looking at the tiny sliver of cleavage your top affords him.

“We’re going home, Yuji.” He says abruptly, tossing his squirmy nephew over his shoulder despite his squealing protests. You take Nobara’s hand in yours to walk, umbrellas catching the splashing rainfall while she jumps in a puddle. Her rainboots squelch, and you beam down at her.

Sukuna starts filling in for Jin a lot more after that. Jin gets to relax, Yuji gets to see his uncle, and Sukuna gets to speak to you- it’s a win for everybody really, he thinks, watching as you walk up to the gate and smile at him.

“Hey, Kuna.” You tease, bumping your elbow with his. He wishes you’d just call him Ryomen, but the nickname Yuji gave him stuck, apparently. But it’s still a nickname, at least- and the acknowledgment makes his chest do something sappy and stupid.

It’s sunny today, rays glittering down onto your hair like a personal spotlight; as such, Nobara and Yuji spend a few minutes running around on the playground, pushing each other on the squeaky roundabout and laughing as they go down the slide, while their respective adults chat,

“I see Jin’s been slacking on pick up duty more often.” You observe, looking up at Sukuna- and the height difference is still staggering even after speaking to him so many times. He's broad, you've come to appreciate in sly glances, shirts stretched over his muscled back and strong arms that flex when he tosses Yuji over his shoulder.

Is it really that morally wrong to be jealous of a four-year-old?

“What, do you never slack?” He questions- it lands a bit sharper than originally intended, but you just smile. “Well... I love picking Nobara up. She makes my day.” You begin, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

Sukuna’s hand twitches like it wanted to get there first.

“And besides, it’s not like I have a responsible husband to come and help. It’s just me and her-“ you say wistfully, gazing over at your daughter as she giggles, your face breaking out into a smile, “-but I don’t think I’d have it any other way.”

Sukuna will feel guilty later about how he internally celebrated that little piece of information- no husband, no boyfriend, you absolutely dote on his nephew and you’re pretty? He must be dreaming!

There’s practically a tiny cupid flying around his head, sprinkling puffs of stupid pink sparkles onto his stupider grin- never has Ryomen Sukuna been this desperate to make a woman laugh, and never has he been stopped from doing so by his nephew!

He’s about to say something in response, something smooth that’ll have you giggling- but he doesn’t get to, because an uncomfortably loud smack! suddenly emanates from the playground. It’s followed after a few beats of silence by sobbing, tiny little wails that make your heart clench.

Of course.

“Oh, Yuji-“ you coo worriedly, already hurrying over to scoop him up, “what happened?”

“I f-fell off the- the swing-“ he hyperventilates, cheeks bunched up as streams of tears make their way down his face. Nobara pets his head sympathetically, stood to the side. “I want my uncle-“

Despite his nonchalance, Sukuna’s already there- awkwardly holding onto his crying nephew like he isn’t sure where to exactly put his hands; it works enough for him, though, since Yuji’s hysteria dies down almost immediately into fading hiccups.

“I bruised my knee.” He says miserably, tears already welling in his big eyes, “it stings.”

Sukuna grimaces and picks Yuji up, carefully buckling him into his carseat with all the attention you’d give a nuclear bomb. Beside him, you appear, perfume wafting into his nose as you hold Nobara’s little hand.

“You’re a good uncle.” You say softly, peering up at his scoffing expression. “No, seriously, I mean it.”

“Thanks.” Sukuna mutters, toeing awkwardly at a rock on the ground because he isn’t used to compliments on the way he handles anything, let alone his nephew.

“See you on Monday for the trip?” You say hopefully.

“What?” Sukuna says, head snapping up, “Jin wants me to go on a fucking trip?” The expression on his face contorts into a scowl you'd find intimidating if it weren't for the exact replica of him shoved into his car. Nobara stares up at him, scandalised. “That’s a bad word-“

“Shh, Nobara.” You say, “he’s an adult.” You turn your attention back to Sukuna, “don’t worry, you aren’t actually chaperoning. We just need to drop them off a little earlier in the morning, maybe stick around long enough to wave them goodbye.”

He nods like he’s absorbing the most important information of his life. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

⋆⋅ ❀ ⋅⋆

Monday arrives in a swirl of black coffee and misery for him.

"Yuji. Car." He says gruffly, voice still tinted at the corners by sleep. He turns to his older nephew- "Choso, make him move."

"I don't wanna be mean to him," the brunette huffs, holding onto his little brother's hand like he doesn't want to let go, even as he reluctantly walks out the door. "Why can't you take him?" Sukuna groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as Yuji punches his leg. It doesn't hurt, obviously- Yuji's tiny fists pack as much punch as a ball of cotton- but it's still annoying.

"Because I get the bus, and he is four?" Choso says flatly, "I don't even go to the same school as him."

"You-"

"Bye, Yu!"

"Byeee, Cho!"

He’s already on his third coffee of the day by the time he gets to the car, where he wrestles an overexcited Yuji into his seatbelt, his tiny legs kicking. “The trip’s gonna be so fun, Uncle Kuna, Megumi told me there’s gonna be bunnies and frogs and owls-“

Sukuna groans, forehead resting on the steering wheel- it’s far too early for this. “And, and, and-“ Yuji continues, squealing out his polysynthetic list, “Megumi also said-“

It goes on and on and on like this until Sukuna finally, finally reaches the end of the drive; this time, it doesn’t take him any effort to deal with Yuji, who’s already fumbling at his seatbelt with chubby hands and waving at his tiny friend.

“Hi!” He squeals, running over to him as Sukuna drags behind, rubbing his eyes with one hand as they protest against the sun.

“Hi.” The spiky, dark-haired one says, his freakishly adult demeanour only slightly diminished by the chubbiness of his bright little cheeks as he turns accusatorially to Sukuna. “Why are you helping out.”

“Megumi, be nice.” You chastise, already walking up from behind- right on cue- with Nobara in hand. “And he isn’t, he’s just here to say goodbye to Yuji.”

“Oh.” Megumi says, as though this is a conversation he doesn’t have any scheduled time for, immediately turning his back on Sukuna. When they’re called onto the minibus by their teacher, the trio lines up dutifully next to the steps, tiny bags clenched importantly in even tinier hands.

“Bye, Nobara!” You yell, waving her off as she beams at you through the window, shouting something back you can’t quite hear.

When your fingers brush Sukuna’s on the way up, neither of you say anything.

You’re too focused on smiling at your daughter with pride as she waves back with a small hand and a big smile- but when she turns around to speak to her friends, something crests inside your throat and your heart clenches.

“She’s getting so… so old.” You whisper to yourself, parents already vacating the spot you’re stood in.

“She’s four.” Sukuna says blankly, “she’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“I know, I’m being dramatic,” you sniffle into your palm, “but I wish she’d just stay this little forever. Don’t you feel like that with Yuji?”

Sukuna deliberates on this for a moment. Sure, Yuji can be a pain, but he does find some slight fascination in watching him grow; from holding him tightly in a bundle at a few weeks old, his eyes crinkled shut, to playfighting with him on Jin’s living room carpet as he tugs at his scalp and calls his tattoos cool. “Yeah.” He says slowly, “yeah, I guess so.”

A small, perfect tear beads up in the wet outer corner of your eye and your lip wobbles along with your casual facade- you’re ready to let it fall, to allow a single solitary line trail down your face, but it never makes it that far.

A calloused thumb swipes it away without a second thought, the action awfully loud for something that made no noise at all. Sukuna stares at you for a moment, skin lingering against your cheek, then rips his hand away like it burns.

“My, um…” you breathe, eyes glassy, “my house is only down the street, if you wanted to come over.” When Sukuna’s eyebrow raises, you flush. “Just for a drink and a talk. If- if you’re thirsty, that is.”

He smiles down at you, teeth glinting almost predatorily in the sun. “Parched.”

Sukuna’s lips are softer than you imagined, is the initial thought that crosses your mind when he first crashes his mouth to yours in your hallway. The kiss is messy and rushed, like you’re making up for lost time- the ceramic dish on the side jangles quietly as you toss your keys, and he kicks the door shut.

“God-“ you gasp against his greedy mouth, cool orbs of his snake bite piercings cutting into your warm lips. “Slow down-“

“I can’t.” Sukuna groans. His hands are already mapping out each gentle curve, learning the topographical details of your body. “I’ve wanted to do this for weeks.”

Despite the breathlessness in your lungs, you giggle. “Me too.”

Your teeth nip at his lips, soothing the bruises with your tongue before tangling into his mouth in a messy mix of saliva and hushed moans.

Large palms grip at your waist, manoeuvring your body backwards against the wall like he’s been planning this out for as long as he’s known you. Sukuna would like to say this all comes naturally to him- and it does- but never has somebody invaded his senses like this. Like you.

He feels like there’s an audible hum below his prickly skin, made worse when your shirt falls to the ground and his fingers are free to map out the frayed lace on your bra.

“That’s nice.” You breathe, eyes fluttering closed as your scalp meets the wall and your hands rest on Sukuna’s shoulders for support. The entirety of your consciousness is consumed by the feeling of your tits under his grip, so you barely register when the button of your jeans pops open below.

“Yeah?” He whispers into your ear, the cartilage warm under his mouth when he bites down.

“Yeah- fuck!” You gasp suddenly, his fingers finally swiping through the cloying wetness building between your soft thighs. He laughs, but there’s no bite to it this time- because you’re clenching around his fingers, hips jerking in search of the friction of his palm, and he’s harder than he thinks he’s ever been in his life.

Spit slicks shinily across the marks Sukuna’s leaving on your chest, purple and red and shades of bruising pink. His head is tucked fully into the junction between your neck and shoulder now, nipping at warm skin while two of his fingers curl between your parted legs.

“Wait, wait-“ you squeak in panic, nails digging into his back, “fuck, I’m close-“

“That’s the idea.” He laughs shakily, thumb painting wet circles over your sensitive clit. The breathy noise your throat expels into his ear when you cum, legs shaking and clamping around his hand, is the prettiest thing Sukuna’s pierced ears have ever had the pleasure of hearing.

“My...“ your speech falters when you look down, eyes widening at the much larger than anticipated bulge in his jeans, “my bedroom’s upstairs. First door on the right-“

Sukuna doesn’t need to be told twice- barely even once, as he hoists you into the air. Your legs clamp automatically around his waist, looking for the hot slide of friction even despite your recent orgasm, seeking the noises he allows to slip deliciously from his lips when you bite down on his neck.

The duvet makes a comforting backrest for when he lies you down, sheets parting under your body as you prop yourself up onto your elbows to watch him unbuckle his belt one-handedly.

It slides out of place with a gentle clink, dropping to your floor in a loose coil of material before Sukuna goes to unzip his fly.

“Wait,” you say suddenly, curling up onto your knees on the bed. “Let me. Please?”

How could he say no?

“Go ahead.” Sukuna smiles down at you, hands held loosely at his sides to watch the way your breath catches in your throat as you pull the denim down and palm him just once over his underwear. “Shitttt.” His head falls back briefly, pupils dilating behind closed eyelids as he drinks in the feeling of your fingers trembling on his skin.

A faint coral happy trail starts at his navel, decorating the soft plane of his v-line and disappearing below the waistband. You look up at him, eyes glassy and lips parted, your fingers hooked into the elastic, and Sukuna has to resist the image that suddenly flashes across his mind.

He wants to cram your cheek against the bulge and watch the way you’d go nervous, cheeks flushing more as he holds you there against the throbbing outline of his cock through the damp spot in the fabric, but he doesn’t. He lets you have your fun.

Although, it’s significantly more entertaining for him when you finally do get the underwear down his thick thighs and you gasp. “Oh my god-“

“Never seen one before, sweetheart?” He grins, lifting his shirt over his head with muscled biceps and tossing the fabric somewhere in the room.

You both know he isn’t just talking about his dick. You’re staring disbelievingly at the tiny silver ball studded at the tip- pierced, rather. Your mouth waters against your will.

“Shut up.” You breathe, fingers tentatively curling around the base of his dick. But you aren’t even looking at your hand or the silken skin it's wrapped around.

Your gaze is heavy but focused, transfixed entirely on the way glittery beads of pre start to shine over the piercing at his flushed tip; you don’t catch them with your fingers, you just look at the way they spill over and down his length.

“Yeah, like that.” Sukuna groans from above you, watching as you press light kisses to his hip beside your bobbing hand.

Your hand shimmers as it works him, scrutinising the way his face flutters and twitches, the way the breaths he’s expelling become more and more ragged until his hips are jerking up-

And you stop. Completely.

His red eyes snap open immediately, shock splashed across his features. “Why the fuck would you stop, woman?”

You shrug, casually peeling your remaining items of clothing off. “Wanted it inside.”

He narrows his eyes in curiosity. “You’re not-?”

“Birth control.” You say, unclasping your bra fully and letting the lace slip down your shoulders before settling back on the sheets in waiting. “Perimenopausal precaution.”

“Ah.”

He’s about to say something else, snake bites glinting in the sunlight your curtains let in, but the moment you spread your legs open a little further his brain blanks.

His hands meet soft skin, pushing your thighs apart to settle his hips between them. Hair falls into his eyes in spiky tufts of pink, and you instinctually raise a hand to brush them back.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Is the first thing to leave his mouth as he lines himself up, the words stuttered through a thick groan as his tip brushes your clit. You sigh into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his back, and he pushes in.

The stretch is perfect, the feeling of being so full after so long almost too much for you to take; you can feel the piercing, feel the way it rolls coolly inside you like something designed solely by him, for you.

“You- you can move.” You keen against his throat. “Now, please.”

“Bossy.” Sukuna says, voice coming loose at the edges already as he buries his face into your shoulder.

The movements he affords you are languid at first, testing to see what angles make you moan the loudest and which rhythm makes you squeeze tightest around him. It turns out you hardly have a preference as long as he's moving; just the knowledge of him being seated inside you, stretching you out, is enough.

Your nails run smooth patterns over his broad back, etching red lines across the inky tattoos while you lose yourself in it. Every drag is perfect, pace increasing steadily until the room is full with quiet, slick noises that have a flush creeping up your chest.

Just when you think he’s as deep as he could possibly be, when there’s nothing left for him to give you- a calloused hand moves from your hip to your thigh, lifting it upwards and pushing the limb against your torso.

“Fuck!” You gasp, scrabbling for purchase on his arms as he grins above you. The new angle lets him hit even more spots, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“You like that?” Sukuna asks rhetorically. He knows you can’t answer, he knows your brain is melted into slush every time he rocks forwards, he knows- but it’s fun to watch you struggle.

“I- mhm-“ you whine, back arching into a curve below him. “Kuna-“

The nickname does something unexpected to him, the sugared syllables dripping like messy honey from your tongue into his mouth when he kisses you again. “Fuck, say that again.”

“Kuna-“ you beg, digging into his skin, “please-“

“Yeah,” he pants into your mouth, “yeah, s’okay.”

The softness of your legs wrap around his waist tighter, heels digging into his back as he releases the hold on your thigh to drop his full weight onto you.

The pressure is gorgeous; the feeling of his abdomen against your soft torso makes you squirm, fluttering tightly around his cock as the piercing keeps rubbing across your soft insides. It maps you out, cool metal gently roving over the smoothest spots your pussy has to offer.

The polish on his nails is chipped, black giving way to reveal the curves of keratin carving pretty crescents into your sticky body- he looks down at them in pride, knowing that only his hands could mark you up so perfectly. But his red irises never stay in one place for long; he can get impatient.

They drift from the mess spilling onto your thighs, the sight of him actively pushing inside almost an assault on his self-control. Then, he stares greedily at your chest, at the soft bounce of your tits when he releases his chest far back enough to appreciate the view.

But he saves the best for last; your face. Lips dropping open into a picture-perfect circle, mouth tightening then becoming lax as moans slip freely into the heated space between you, eyes shiny and bright. God, you're so pretty, Sukuna thinks.

“M’gonna cum.” You breathe tightly, stomach clenching when two of his fingers slide between your bodies to rub messy circles over your swollen clit.

“Yeah, me too.” Sukuna admits roughly, voice dropping to vibrate against the cartilage of your throat.

The orgasm winds tight, humming and heavy, twisting beneath your sweaty skin and shattering. Your lips part around a silent moan, babbling something unintelligible- maybe it was his name, maybe it was a plea; whatever it is, it pushes Sukuna over the edge with you.

A sharp little gasp sounds from him as he stills, hips stuttering inside you as thick pearlescent strings soak your sheets, overflowing from your cunt and onto the duvet.

He catches his breath before rolling off you, slumping in a mess of sweaty muscle and spit-slicked skin beside you in the mess of your bed. “Fuck.”

“Mmm.” You agree breathlessly, chest still heaving with exertion, limbs boneless.

Sukuna stands first, unashamedly naked, sun painting a halo behind him as you adjust onto your side and speak with hoarse vocals. “Going somewhere?”

“Well-“ he begins, a blush creeping onto his face that has nothing to do with the post-sex afterglow, “I was gonna get you a drink, or somethin’, but I realised I don’t know where your kitchen is.”

The absurdity of the situation hits you then; your daughters friend’s uncle is stood totally naked in your bedroom, his cum is leaking onto your sheets, and he doesn’t even know where your sink is.

You laugh, collapsing onto your front and hysterically giggling as he stands there confusedly. “Something funny?”

“No, no-“ you wheeze, wiping tears from your eyes, “not at all, actually.”

It isn’t raining when you arrive at the school- in fact, it’s even more sunny than it was earlier, big strips of light illuminating the flowers around your feet as you wait. You aren’t alone, as usual- Sukuna stands beside you, waiting too; but this time, your hands aren’t empty.

Instead of waiting outstretched for Nobara’s backpack, your hand rests cosily in his; fingers tangled together like they’ve been used to it for years, Sukuna’s thumb brushing comfortingly over your knuckles.

“They’re staring.” You whisper, anxiously eyeing up the gaggle of bored parents around you, some curiously peering at your hands.

“Ignore it.” Sukuna replies, glaring at a woman who looks too long. Her head snaps around immediately, and he grins to himself.

Your hand never leaves his, even when your breaths get nervous and anticipatory as you wait for Nobara to see you. Her shoes are soft when they land on the gravel below, her face plastered with a huge smile.

“Mom!” She yells, walking over to you, “it was so fun, Megumi and Yuji were right, but I didn’t like the frogs- why are you holding hands?” She squints at your fingers braided with Sukuna’s at her eye level.

“Well-“

“Uncle Kuna!” Yuji squeals, throwing his arms around Sukuna’s leg in the strongest hug he can muster, “there was bunny rabbits- are you holding hands?”

Two pairs of tiny eyes- three if you count Megumi Fushiguro, who’s been watching the whole time as he waits for his sister with a bored expression on his pink cheeks- travel from you, to Sukuna, to your entwined hands, like they’re slowly figuring something out.

Aside from Megumi, who likes to act like he's figured everything out already.

Yuji gasps loudly enough to turn heads. “Does this mean you’re my auntie? Does this mean he’ll finally stop talking about you to my dad? Does this mean me and Nobara are cousins?”

Nobara stares at you, and you nervously stare back. “Okay. But he-“ she says, pointing a finger at Sukuna, “is still annoying.”

You breathe a sigh of relief at her approval- to you, it means more than anything. “Yeah, he is.” Sukuna’s mouth twitches at the corner. “Do you wanna go home now?”

She nods, grabbing onto your spare hand. As Yuji tugs Sukuna towards the car, yelling something nonsensical about his ‘new favourite auntie’, his fingers slip from yours regretfully.

Two matching heads of pink hair walk away from you, Sukuna struggling as usual to clip Yuji into the car. You giggle.

“Tell me about the trip.” You ask Nobara, clasping your hands together, “what about the bunnies?”

“They were with their mom,” she says thoughtfully, face breaking into a toothy smile, “it looked like us in my baby pictures.”

Your heart tugs. You want to say something, like ‘I love you’ or ‘you’re still a baby to me’, but words die in your throat. You settle for a hug, crouching down to wrap your arms around her as she giggles and squirms in your grip.

From behind her, as he reverses onto the road and Yuji giggles from the backseat, Sukuna waves one-handedly from the steering wheel.

ೃ࿔*:･

masterlist

a/n: thank you soooo much for reading! have a lovely week + comments appreciated! <33

tags (open):

“Ryo,” your mom used to call him that, you remember hearing the shit being screamed out from her room. You couldn’t blame her if she was getting dicked down like that. “I’d love you to come spend some time with the family after this, just us, she’d love if you came.”

“Yeah,” he looks at you, so uncomfortable in that moment, trying to smile and be happy for your sister. “You sure?”

“I am, plus I’d love it if we could talk,” her fingers trail down his chest, and sure he also should feel guilty that he came inside her daughter last night but… not really. “Wouldn’t you?”

“I mean sure, I’ll come, I’m in the suite right by your place.”

“Even better! Isn’t she a beautiful girl? I’m so proud of her,” she then eyes you, frowning with disdain. “Her though.”

“I mean, she’s just a young girl, she’s not in any trouble…”

“She’s bumming around doing music of all things,” he is sure you hear by how you tense up. “I just tried to raise them right.”

“What’s she even done wrong?” She looks up at him, eyes narrowing a bit. “I mean, she was a good kid, seems like she’s a good woman too.”

“Sure, she’s just normal, average, I expected better.” His jaw clenches a bit at her statement, he knows you’re not ‘perfect’ but jesus. As someone with stupidly harsh parents who put too much on him, he wonders if that’s the connection he felt last night.

Was it the connection of both having parents who didn’t care about you?

“Don’t you remember all the trouble she caused us?”

“Shit, she was a teenager, just let that go…” He turns then, suddenly uncomfortable, looking over at you in your ugly ass dress, still pretty as can be. “Wanna practice dancing or some shit?"

“Me!?”

“Her!?”

You and your mom ask at the same time, your sister just smiles, giving him a friendly hug. “Yes please dance! It’s so good to see you again.”

“You too, kid.” He pats her back, your sister has always been a sweet girl, before he holds out a hand like some lifeline. “Wanna help me practice? I’m shit at it.”

“Yeah, of course,” you let him lead you out, big hand swallowing yours, when he pulls you against him with ease, your heart hammers in your chest.

Sure, you fucked him, but to feel this?

His eyes lower just a bit, flickering depths of ruby that rush through you, big palm burning the small of your back, as every memory of last night courses through you, rushing through your fucking veins, you feel shaky from it. A little sheen of sweat on your brow as your tummy clenches, feeling the eyes of everyone on you, as if they're as surprised as you are.

"Why dance with me?" You ask softly, he sighs then, looking back at your mother, then down at you.

"Because she was being a bitch." You snort in laughter, shaking your head while he turns you around in a little half assed pirouette.

"Ah, is it the dick or are you not that bad?" Sukuna's brows lower, your giggle cut short when his gaze drags down to your lips.

"I should occupy that mouth," you practically drool thinking of having him in your throat, he chuckles, sound so deep and throaty, you ignore the fact that it makes your thighs press together. "Didn't get to do that, did we?"

"No we didn't, because nothing happened," you say with a glare, his grin just gets bigger, him and his fucking slutty eyebrows raising. "We played darts."

"You squirted on me."

"Oh God," he spins you again, pulling you against him. "You're a good dancer, why lie about it?"

"I guess I'm fine," he dips you over an arm, sooty pink lashes lowering, big ass hand gripping your waist tightly. "You seemed like you needed to get away from her."

"Yeah," you sigh then, shaking your head as he helps you up. "Thank you for that."

"Don't worry," you eye your mom then. "She's gotten even bitchier."

"Your mouth probably had her pretty happy," his smirk comes back. "I mean you're kind of good at that."

"Mmm, I am I guess," his lips brush your ear as he bends down. "She never got that wet, never made a fuckin' mess on me like you."

Fuck.

"N-no?"

"Nah, your cunt is slutty," you almost hit him, but you almost drag him down for a kiss, aching for him to give you that again, make you mind shut down. "It's okay, I liked it."

"Oh joy," he snorts and spins you once more. "I guess I did too."

"Your body loved my cock."

"Shh!" You look around, scowling up at his laughter. "We can't do that again, I almost feel kind of bad..."

He snorts at that. "Almost?"

Do you feel bad? Your mom has been a constant source of back and forth regarding your feelings, but how could you go this far?

"How mom is looking at you so dick hungry yes. I didn't realize she was."

"You loved every minute of it," after the song ends he just eyes you. "Stop lying."

"You're ridiculous, was just a... one time thing."

"Uh huh."

Sukuna's broad shoulders flex while he spins you again, his thigh between yours brushing up for just a moment, you're soaking wet and trembling, gasping out at the sensation. "I'm very um... serious."

"I see that," he tilts his head, pink locks falling across his face where some of it's come loose from it's typical slick back. You brush it aside for a moment, and the two of you just look at each other, lost. "You've never cum that hard."

"Psh," you haven't but you're not giving him that satisfaction. "I said you're good okay?"

"Good... mmm..." the song is almost ending, and his hands feel too good over your dumb yellow dress, heating up your skin and making your thighs press together. "I'll only be in town for a few days."

"Oh yeah?" You try to act casual, feet moving along with his in steep.

"Mhm, and my suite is right next to yours. If you need my services."

"Conceited man, think I'll just come to you?"

"Hmm," he pulls your hand up to his lips, he doesn't kiss them though, his teeth nip the delicate skin on the back of your knuckles, you gasp. "Hah, did you think I'd kiss it?"

"No I'd have some heart attack," you like him holding your hand too much. "I won't be running to your room begging for dick, I'm not desperate."

"I didn't say you were... well - you were desperate to have it in-"

"Shut up!" You wanna smack the grin off his face.

"Well it's all yours if you want it," he hears how it sounds, cursing internally as your eyes shoot wide at him. "Barely got a taste of me."

He barely got a taste of you - of your perfect cunt that was so yummy and messy, of your thighs gripping his hips. God he'd love to fold you in a mating press as much as he'd love to rip your dumb fucking bridesmaid dress off, bend you over and break you for anyone. It couldn't just be him feeling this way, could it?

He's too addicted to everything about last night, playing over and over in his head, did it not mean shit to you, did it mean shit to him? Confusing him to no end, he doesn't know how to process it, he hasn't dated in years, and you're a little younger than him. He shouldn't be having feelings from getting his dick wet.

Your mom steps up then, clearing her throat, smiling in that way she does when she's faking being 'kind'. you wish she'd just be the bitch she truly is, maybe you could respect her a little more. Seeing Sukuna with her does something fucked up in that moment, his hand gripping hers, fingers entwining, the other on her waist.

Did it... hurt?

No, fuck no, you're damaged and hungover, maybe everything she fucking thinks about you is true.

You get stuck dancing with your ex then, he was a sweet enough boy who happened to actually take your virginity back in high school. So to say this was awkward was the biggest understatement of the century. His fingers are all sweaty and clammy where Sukuna's had been dry, calloused and rough.

Why are you comparing!?

"So how have you been?" He asks, trying to make conversation, you catch sight of crimson eyes staring across your mom's head, a little set to his plump lips that you're not used to. He's not smirking, it's almost as if he's displeased at you.

"You know, living the dream," you curse then. "that's the most lame response, please forget that."

He laughs softly, nerves easing a bit. "So you are still the same, I was a little intimidated, your singing is blowing up."

"You're the only one who thinks so," you sigh a bit, letting him spin you, your mom is all heart eyes as her former lover dips her just so. Your sister is the center of attention, as she should be, but as she always is. "How have you been?"

You strike up conversation, you talk to relatives and family friends, and eventually you all are seated at the enormous banquet table, you're sitting next to none other but Sukuna, your mom across the way with your sister. She's tapping her champagne flute, smiling brightly, everyone's enamored with her, as they should be.

She's perfect.

Sukuna however looks at you, disheveled and looking like a bright yellow dumbass bird, your hair is a mess and your dark circles apparent, yet the man can't rip his eyes off you, drifting your direction every time you don't notice. You feel his gaze finally, eyes meeting his, and for a moment his pulse races.

No, he can't show that shit, he's confident and he's been with many women, fuck he was dating your own mom, living with her. He got engaged two times but never made it as far as even this rehearsal dinner, always realizing he better stop before he goes too far. His family never stopped letting their disappointment from being known.

Sukuna, the heir to an entire corporation, and no bride? That was just the worst thing their could be for him. Pushed and pushed for years, they only recently shut the fuck up when he had to step up and run things after his father wanted retire. Here he was, shunning tradition, not living up to expectations.

Maybe that's why he understood you somewhat.

Never 'fitting in' fully and being the family disappointment? Sukuna knew all about that, in fact he reveled in that shit. You come from an upper class family too, yet from what he's seen you live in a shitty little apartment, and from what he hears your half broke. But you do it all on your own, the shit he respects.

He didn't want to take over, but he did it anyway, seeing you makes him curious, not just the scent of you, or your looks driving him insane, something about you, even when he saw you he knew you were just different. Yet, you hated his ass, and he can't blame you for it, he was nothing but a dick to avoid an inevitable truth.

That he was heavily attracted to you, and you were eighteen at the time. that made him feel very fucked up, no not 'creep level' but he liked women his age or even older usually. Experienced and able to take his cock, women who wanted to fuck and that was that, that way there wasn't some fucked excuse he'd have to come with when it got serious.

Here you are, perfect for that, you all fucked and you're seemingly good - but he wants it again and again, fuck he just wants to kiss you-

"Are you staring at my feathers?" You ask with a pout, plucking one off.

He snorts in laughter.

How can he not at that, at you?

"Yeah, you're missing some."

"I keep yanking at them, god this is itchy and tight," you're shifting a bit, that ugly dress slipping up your thigh then. His hand comes on top of it, and you glare, but you can't say much, not when your mom is speaking. "Stop."

"Stop what, big bird?" You dig your nails into the back of his hand, he hisses at the pain. "Fucking brat."

"My beautiful, amazing daughter, my pride and joy!" Your mom stands up now, a hand over her heart. "I couldn't be more proud, or more happy to call you my daughter. I love you more than anything in this world, truly, you are my everything, and now I'm giving you away."

She's crying, and your jaw tenses.

Everyone looks at you, including your sister with a sympathetic frown, fuck even your mean old aunties and uncles are frowning.

"My only daughter is-" She trails off then, as if remembering you.

You're used to this shit, it's how she is, but in front of everyone, it's as if she forgot her fake fucking act, her dumb stupid face now in a gasp, as if she realized she's revealed to an entire room full of people how she feels.

You're not her daughter.

She said it the day you left college and pursued music, and she seemingly meant it, but it doesn't mean it hurts less. You plaster on a fake smile, taking Sukuna's hand under that heavy white table cloth, and slipping it up. His eyes note the motion, pressing higher and higher, and your legs spread right for him.

Fuck her.

You'd let the man she wants finger you if you're not even her fucking 'daughter' and it didn't hurt that you just wanted him to touch you again. Yeah, it's fucked and wrong, but in that moment it's oddly supportive, little circles higher and higher, closer to your soaking wet panties. He's squeezing your thigh tight, almost making you gasp as your eyes lock for just a moment.

"Of course I have two daughters, the champagne and the wedding planning!" She's laughing it off, and awkward laughter is followed, but it's clear as day. "This may be my only wedding I plan is what I meant, you are a bit of a lone wolf."

"I am," Sukuna's fingers brush your cunt, right over your slit, you smile right at your mom as he touches you. "It may be your only wedding, and she deserves all the praise."

"You're being sweet," your mom's tone changes, eyes narrowing, you bite your lower lip while Sukuna's slipping that cotton to the side, and instead of a tease, he shoves both his fingers deep in your cunt. You gasp out, gripping your fork so tightly, you shove food in your mouth to avoid a moan. "Ah, there's my daughter."

You hear everyone laugh, but you roll with it, shoving another bite and giving a thumbs up, while he's massaging that spot. You're gushing down his fingers, and Sukuna revels in it, in how tight you are, in knowing he's helping you tell your mother to fuck off in your own way, he knows you need it.

Damaged, fucked up, like him.

Fuck you weren't even as close to as damaged as him, he just held it together well finally in his thirties, at your age he was more of a mess than you could ever be. Your hand slips to his thigh then, running over his cock, and he tenses. He's played with women under tables, but he's never had them play right back.

"You're pulsing," he murmurs in your ear, breath dancing across it.

"Bet you are too, leaking pre for me?" Your eyes meet his, and he almost cums from your mean little smile, your hand brushing up and down quicker and quicker.

"Fuck..."

He's never felt whatever you're doing, never had someone talk shit right back, touch him with that confident hand, gripping his thickness over his slacks right in a room of a hundred people, many of whom remember him being with your mom. Yet you both saw the real her, maybe you were the only ones.

"Bet you're gonna cum so loud everyone notices," he taunts, pumping again, you're not one to back down from a challenge, but his long, thick fingers hit a spot that blinds you, that almost makes you drool. "Wanna, huh you brat? Cum right where she can see?"

"Fuck her," you grumble, stroking him over that fabric again, hearing the softest hint of a whimper. "You did fuck her I guess."

"Help me forget," you laugh softly, shaking your head at him. "No, just gonna let me finger you, not fuck you again? Not press your head into the pillows and arch that ass f'me?"

Fuck.

You're met with those red eyes, ones no one should have, like the demon he truly is deep down, as if he recognized how fucked you were and didn't judge you for it - no he fucking relished in your damage. In your horrible decision making, he was right there with you, like some kindred spirit with a huge cock and issues.

"If you can keep quiet I'll meet you in the suite tonight," he lifts a slutty ass eyebrow.

"What now?"

You unzip him, looking around, seeing everyone just standing, nibbling, talking, some are eating and they're all drinking. "Who'd notice if I was under here for a bit, really?"

Unzip.

His eyes almost bulge out of his head, as you fucking disappear like you've dropped some fork, leaving only the stupid yellow feathers from your dress across the seat like they're shedding. Then you've got his huge, veiny cock out and you're lapping your tongue along the underside of it, he almost doesn't hold back his moan, tugging at your hair so tightly you whine out at the pain and pleasure.

"The fuck are you doing, brat?" He huffs now, feeling your soft laugh as you run your tongue up and down his tip, swirling and sucking up that milky pre. "Fuck..."

"Keep quiet if you want me in there tonight," you look up and whisper as he's moved the cloth to look at your smeared lips, coated in his white seed. "Shh."

You're the sluttiest brat there is.

He's never met his match until now, right at your sister's wedding, where you're deep throating your mother's ex boyfriend's cock, you the prodigal daughter who's known as the black sheep just relishing in it, one upping it, deep throating him in one go. He's furious anyone ever felt your mouth, the way it wraps him, and he still has to act unaffected, like he doesn't hear the slurping from you.

"Slutty little brat..." He grumbles, then your mom walks up, touching his shoulder, he tenses since now you decide to start stroking his cock quicker, little fist movements up and down, so good he wants to bust already. "Hey there!?"

"Sukuna, you seem nervous," she says softly, sitting on the edge of the banquet table and crossing her legs, showing far too much in a high slit. "I am so glad you could come."

"Come, yeah," you laugh out against him and he tugs your hair tighter, shoving you so deep you can't breathe. When you're choking on that thick, monster cock inside your throat, you're close to cumming, just from that plus his touch earlier. Hearing your mom's voice just makes you go deeper, as if to show him she couldn't.

You were so fucked up, you both know it.

Yet it makes your sucking even sweeter, every messy slurp and bob, glistening on his veiny length while his huge hands pin your face, sucking your breath away. "Yeah, I'm glad I was able to come..." inside your daughter last night.

"I'm so sorry you got stuck sitting next to her," she earns a glare from him now. "Seating arrangements were made by last names i'm afraid, and she has her father's. Is it too inconvenient?"

"She's not at all," she's perfect, damaged but so perfect, sucking his cock like she's made for it. He gives you a little breathing room, thighs spreading like he's the slutty one here, he can't help but lean down a bit, give you more. "She's a good girl."

Fuck.

You almost cum again just hearing it, even with your mom's nasty laugh, that makes you work harder for it, for him, his hand brushing your hair back so gently, so protective almost, encouraging you. You need it, you want more of it, of him. You suck so hard his cock starts pulsing for you, leaking pre, thickening in the narrow expanse of the throat he's stretching.

"You are sweet," Sukuna laughs at that, you moan softly, and your mother tenses, looking around then. "Where'd she run off to, taking shots?"

"She's just in the bathroom, freshening up she said," you bob again, and he's so close to cumming, every movement just milking him more and more, until his sooty pink lashes flutter. "She'll be here soon I'm sure."

"Surprised she shows up at all, she's just such a-"

"Good girl?"

"No," she blinks then, in confusion, leaning close. "Is she trying to hit on you, flirt with you or something? I saw the way she stared."

"Her hit on me? No."

Sukuna was trying to fucking be with you, with the filthy girl sucking his cock with her mom right there, God he'd give you anything in that moment, depraved and sucking desperate now, head moving up and down in filthy strokes. He almost can't keep his composure, when your mom laughs a bit, hand brushing across his cheek.

"I miss you Ryo," she murmurs, lips against a high cheekbone. "I'm in a suite right over by you, if you want to come by."

You pause, but Sukuna guides your head again, gently this time.

"I have company, from out of town, m'sorry." Your mom huffs a bit, looking away, she's not used to being turned down in her life.

"Another time?"

"Maybe," he almost cried out as you bottom out, slobbering all over his dress pants, leaking against his heavy balls. "I'll l-let you know."

"Of course," she kisses his cheek again and hugs him, right as you swallow.

When you swallow he's done for, as soon as your mom walks off he's busting so hard he can't think, you're choking on how much cum pumps out of that little hole on his mean red tip, drinking it so greedy, whining out at the taste. Salty, a little bitter, but addictive, so fucking good you want more of it.

You suck every drop.

"Cock thirsty," he whispers, you hear it too, as he lifts the cloth, brushing the cum and spit aside. "Perfect little cock sleeve, sucked it all?"

You aren't a submissive girl, but you nod, eating up his praise, looking up at him between his spread thighs, your fingers pressing in just a bit as you swallow the rest of his cum down your throat. He looks around then, peering.

"Coast is clear, hop up real quick."

You do just that, and something shifts in that moment, no it's not the sexual nature, you two have fucked, and you're not inexperienced either.

It's like he knew you needed him?

You're probably just traumatized and seeing shit where it shouldn't be, but it doesn't stop the sense of belonging that happens next to him, his hand running a soothing circle up your back, as he hands you some water. He leans close, as everyone didn't notice you, when do they really?

"I'd have noticed you missing," he murmurs, you tense then, eyeing him.

"Don't say that."

"Yeah, like I fucking want to," he's so raw then, leaning back down, adjusting himself, he then grabs a pen and jots down his number and the room he's in right on a pretty folded napkin. "I didn't make noise, did I?"

"You did not, so I'll come over, a deal is a deal," you smile as if it's all fun, but Sukuna is serious in that moment, jaw set, taking a breath. "Sukuna..."

"I'm leaving now, but I will see you at eight."

"You're telling me when I'll be there?"

He leans too close, far too fucking close.

"I'll see you at eight."

No way that dom shit will work on you.

*****

Knock Knock Knock.

It's 7:59 pm.

Sukuna smiles.

hehe the full version is already on Patreon but I am converting this story fully to here - so l will be posting all of the chaps here every week <3 tags open <3

You clear your throat, he’s too close to you, this tall man, with tattoos that you just can’t rip your eyes away from, adorning huge hands with raised blue and purple veins underneath taut skin. The music and lights of the bar all fade, like some dumb movie you’d watch, your thighs pressing together, trying to rip your gaze from him and focus.

“I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks,” you hear it then, there’s no mistaking that voice, the one that used to make you so fucking angry, the man who’d had your mother dumb in love. You glare up then, for him to look down at you, taking his glass and smirking, ruby eyes lidded as he studies you. “Ah, it’s the brat.”

“The brat? Excuse me?” You roll your eyes at him, while Sukuna studies just how fucking sexy you look right now.

You’re a little older now, you lost some of that baby face, becoming even more pretty, a sharper jut to your chin, narrowed eyes with your lips all glossy and pursed together in irritation. Your hair falls against bare shoulders, you’ve got a different style than you did then to it, silky against your bare skin in that slutty little excuse for an outfit you’re wearing.

He drifts his gaze down to breasts begging for his hands, nipples pressing against pathetic fucking material, some velvet and lace bodice that should be in a bedroom only. He resists the urge to throw his coat over you, before eyeing the boy behind you trying to make conversation.

He gives him such a look that the boy literally fucking runs away, much to Sukuna’s amusement, smirking when you look over your shoulder. “Huh, looks like he got annoyed by you finally.”

“You’re still such a dick, nothing’s changed, huh?” You scoff, rolling your eyes then, he sits down casually, eyeing your empty glass.

“Want a drink?” You pause then, his thigh is brushing against yours, he’s close - too close again. “You’re old enough now, yeah?”

“Twenty-five. And you? Fifty yet?”

“You’re still bitchy as ever,” he rolls his eyes at you, leaning back on the seat a bit, sipping his glass, you watch his adam’s apple bob, the dark lights glinting off his frosty pink locks. “Thirty five.”

“I forgot mom was a cougar,” he chuckles a bit, the sound throaty and doing too much. “You still talk to her?”

“Yeah, I do. She invited me to your sister’s wedding. Me and her were pretty cool with each other – you were the little brat.”

“Yeah well sorry I didn’t want you trying to tell me what to do,” he leans forward, a fist under his chin, elbow on the bar.

“Your mom still a bitch to you?”

You pause, blinking a bit. “She’s always disappointed, if that’s what you mean, she’ll always be her favorite.”

Sukuna pauses a bit, the reason he and your mother didn’t work out had a lot to do with how stuck up and pretentious she was, of course she was beautiful and fun for the time, but she also just didn’t give a fuck. Especially about you from what he can briefly remember sticking around when you were eighteen and trying to figure out college.

“You got invited, huh?” He blinks a bit, the past slipping some. “Mom want some dick again?”

He laughs then, a husky, throaty laugh, running a hand through his hair. “If she does, I sure won’t be giving it to her.”

“What are you dating? My condolences to her.” His eyes narrow at your mean little smile.

“Nope,” he taps your glass again. “Do you want a drink or not?”

“I dunno, former step-dad.”

He scowls now, you’re giggling until he leans far too close, lips a breath away from yours. “Never was your fucking ‘step dad’. Unless,” his fingers drift across your cheek now. “You wanted me to be, ya got that many mommy issues?”

“You fucking wish,” you slap his hand, scowling up at him, meeting his energy in that moment. “Get me one then.”

“What little bitch drink are you having?”

“Dirty shirley.”

He laughs at you again, you shove his big ass, feeling those biceps under your hand. “The bitchiest of drinks.”

“Oh fuck you,” he chuckles and orders you one anyway, judgy as fuck when the bartender pops in a pretty cherry. “Thanks I guess.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you brush your hair back off your shoulders, exposing far too much of your pretty shoulders, lips wrapping around the straw. “Drinking your sorrows?”

“What do you care?”

“We’re both here, might as well catch up with my former almost step daughter.” You shove at his big body, he snorts in laughter, irritating you to no end. “Thought this was your kink.”

“Psh, you’re so annoying I swear. I’m doing music and busy being the family disappointment.” You raise your glass in a toast, he can’t stop the grin on his face.

“Could disappoint them more.”

“You think so?” He leans back, putting the crystal glass back up to his lips.

“Of course you can. You could become a stripper, they'd love that.”

“Shit, I could, maybe dance at the bachelor party?”

“There you go, that’d really get ‘em going,” you laugh then, the sound too pleasing to his ears. “You’re failing at being the disappointment.”

“I am, truly,” something feels almost comfortable about Sukuna in that moment, you try to ignore how sexy he looks when he loosens his black tie, swallowing more of your pink drink down. “I never liked you.”

“I know,” the lights flit a bit, casting shadows on a face that looks a little too fucking good to your buzzed senses. “I didn’t like you much, just a little brat. You still are it seems.”

“You’re still a dick it seems,” Sukuna just winks at you. “And pretentious.”

“Any other words?”

“Obnoxius, rude, annoying-”

“Just say you wanna fuck me already,” you shove at him again. “You ready for the wedding then? Gonna be in some ugly bridesmaid dress?”

“Of course I will be, it’s the ugliest thing I’ve seen too.” You pick up your phone, showing him a picture of you in it.

“Disgusting.”

“I know!”

“You’ll look like a fucking yellow bird in that thing.”

“It’s so ugly, I have to wear it to the rehearsal dinner too. Are you going to that?” 

“I am, I’m not looking forward to seeing your mom again.”

“Aw,” you trail your fingers up his chest teasingly, a pout on your face. “Poor Sukuna, did she break your wittle heart?”

“You’re such a little brat,” he snatches your wrist then, big fingers entrapping it, leaning close to you. “You know your mom.”

“Not quite like you.”

“We’ve both been inside her tech– shit come back!?” You’re already hopping your drunk ass off the seat.

“I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” you mumble, so done with him then, yet he’s following you. “Are you bored?”

“Are you mad?” You scowl at him now, standing towards the entrance, your jacket slung over your arm. “Upset it isn’t you?”

“You’re trying to piss me off, doesn’t make any sense either, I won’t get you hooked back up with mommy.”

“You keep bringing her up,” he leans low, brushing your hair back, you tremble just a bit at the proximity. “You look good as fuck, y’know that?”

“Oh shut up,” you shove at him again. “What, do I look like mom?”

“Much hotter,” you scoff then, but the words have their fucked effect, his big hand on your waist with his lips against your ear when you phone rings. He pulls back and you take a step away, outside catching your breath. The fucker follows you out, lighting up a cigarette casually.

“Yeah, what’s up mom?” You ask, eyes flitting over to Sukuna’s form, leaning against the brick wall.

“What are you doing, I need you to help with plans! This is your sister’s wedding, you know!” Your jaw sets, hands clutching the phone tightly.

“Mom I’ve helped a ton, I just really needed a break.”

“And where are you – let me guess, drinking?”

“And?”

Her sigh of disappointment is louder than anything. “Get yourself together, your sister at your age was already engaged! She was in charity events and-”

“Yeah, I’m aware she’s perfect,” your voice is quiet, but Sukuna hears it, taking a drag on his cigarette, poking around on his own phone. “You don’t have to constantly remind me.”

“Maybe it will be motivational,” you almost laugh at her then. “Fine just don’t show up hungover to this rehearsal, the entire family will be there.”

“And they’ll all be drinking anyway, but sure I will be bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“I’ll see you then.” She hangs up, you look up at the night sky for a moment, seeing the soft twinkling of the stars, before looking back.

“You smoke now?”

“Bad habit I picked up,” he murmurs, lips wrapping around it to take another drag, puff of smoke rising into the air, he flicks it quickly, hands back in his pockets. “Does mommy want you to leave?”

You laugh a bit without humor then, eyeing the time. “It is eleven, but I have my own suite, she just wants to have plenty of control.”

“Ya gonna give it to her?” You walk over then, shaking your head and brushing past him to the door.

“Wanna play darts?”

He grins, and soon the two of you are going head to head, and fuck Sukuna is competitive at it. They fly with expert precision, zooming past and landing bulls eyes over and over, your own join and meet his, red and black darts scattered all across the board. He’s got you another drink, you’re throwing back a shot with him and laughing, it’s far, far too easy to be around him.

Something you really never expected was that, Sukuna being easy to be around, he was intelligent and sarcastic as can be, but ultimately just fun. You’re laughing so much you almost forget the shitty mindset you were in before, a little too close to him when it’s your turn, soon people are watching you two, seeing the insane back to back competition.

“Hah, I owned your ass!” You flip him off as you pull back your last dart on the board, a big grin on your face that Sukuna finds far too attractive, it’s entirely impossible to register you as the same girl who used to piss him off all the time.

When he dated your mom you hated him, but you also seemed to not be able to stand your own mother. At first it seemed you were just a little brat or something, but he realized that there was clearly more to it in time. You never failed to stick your tongue out at him or 

“I guess you did win,” Sukuna leans too close, chest right against your face as he pulls out your winning dart, you inhale that cologne, tummy tightening with his every movement. “What do you want for winning?”

“I get something, huh?” He nods, his hand slipping across your bare shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

“What would you want me to do, huh brat?”

“You’re at my mercy?” You raise a brow, body thrumming with a heady mix of desire and how fucked up this would be, to do what you’re thinking of with him.

“Never mind, you look scary as fuck, whatever you’re thinking,” he goes to pull away when you tug at his tie, pulling him down to you. “What is it?”

“Make me cum.”

Sukuna doesn’t spend another minute before he’s kissing you right there, lips mean and messy, hands slipping up your hips to tug you against him, leaning you against the wall with his hard body pressed against you. You gasp out, letting his tongue slip in, the faint taste of cigarettes and whiskey lingering on his lips. Sukuna moans and his hands grip your ass right there.

“Not here, are you insane?” You pull back and see his grin plastered on his face now.

“Make you cum, been a while?” He cups your face in a way that’s anything but delicate or sweet.

“Maybe,” you admit, his thigh pressing against your heat, pressing up so that you’re right against him.

“Fingers or mouth?” You blink in surprise then, flushing and looking down, Sukuna chuckles. “Cock? All three?”

“You’re slutty.”

“You’re slutty,” you kiss him again, the alcohol making your head swirl, any decisions being made in your brain shoved away for just how wet you are. “Slutty and soaking wet.”

“Shh,” you grab his wrist, navigating your way through the sea of bodies until you’re both stumbling into a bathroom, he tugs down your top, moaning.

“Filled out-”

“I will hit you,” he snorts and picks you up like you’re fucking nothing, dragging you over to the counter and spreading your thighs. “Mnh!”

“Shh, keep it shut,” he murmurs, your hands grip on his pink locks when he shoves up your dress, slipping your panties aside and groaning out. “Fuck…”

You arch your hips for him, when he laps up juices that have already spilled down your inner thigh, they’re trembling on either side of his head, cunt already pulsing from his breaths. Some odd, fucked up part of you wonders if your mom had him like this, and you try to feel some guilt, but the moment he parts your folds and flicks his tongue up your slit, the thoughts vanish.

“Oh fuck!” He chuckles and covers your mouth, hovering over you, looking down at you fucked out eyes.

“Keep it down, brat, ya that pathetic? Gonna cum from a lick?” You’re just desperately whining against his palm, when he’s back down there, tongue flicking mean while your head presses against the mirror.

“Sukuna…” You’re gushing down his mouth, ecstasy shooting straight through everywhere his tongue dives and slips, fucking you with it then. Your walls grip his wet muscle, the man you couldn’t stand who was with the woman you can’t stand, worshipping you right in the club bathroom. “Ah!”

“Mmm,” he’s slurping up all of your juices then, gummy walls gripping his tongue so tightly he can’t stand it. You’re so sweet then, for the mean little brat you usually are, all pliant and needy. He can’t help but look up at your already fucked out face and grin against you. “Prettier than moms.”

“You’re so fucked up,” you’re wetter though, he notices when his fingers slip up inside your hole, curling up and down, stretching you so much. “Tighter?”

“You’re the fucked up one,” he flicks his tongue on your clit. “Mommy issues out the ass.”

“Shh, get back down,” you shove his face back against you, and he’s so hard it hurts, throbbing and leaking pre, dying to be back inside you. “Mnh! There, there…”

He pulls back right before you’re about to cum, earning your soft whine, he keeps his two fingers pumping up and down, gripping your hair and pulling you to him. “Open, brat.”

You don’t know why, but you easily obey his command, doing just that and opening for his spit, mixed with your flavor, you swallow it down and get even wetter, so wet his fingers slip out, earning your frustrated whine. “Lemme cum, please.”

“You will,” he yanks them out again, shoving them in your mouth so deep you almost choke, sucking yourself off them desperately. “Good little whore.”

“Fuck you,” he just chuckles, pulling you down, you hear the unzipping of his slacks as he turns you to face the mirror then. “Watch your face while I make you cum, huh?”

You would say something smart, but you’re aching, soft moans escaping your throat – nodding quickly as he slips his spit soaked fingers down and into your snug little hole again. He moans against your ear, your taste soaking his mouth now, stroking his cock with his other hand, dying to slip it inside you, but also noticing your face is just too pretty.

He’d thought so years ago, you first met him the summer before college, in some tiny little outfit that had him feeling fucked up, but he promised then he’d avoid that. Yet he couldn’t help himself, finding you on instagram later, jerking it to your pictures long after he split up from your mom, and your body was better than he could imagine, he almost whispers it to you.

No way he gets that vulnerable though, you clearly want to cum and have some serious issues with your mother, and he’s glad to enable if it means he can fuck your pretty cunt at least once. You’re gasping out the quicker they go, teeth clenched together with the stretch, trying desperately not to make much noise though your cunt is loud enough with every movement.

Your hazy mind wonders just how you got here then - With Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers scissoring in and out of your slick cunt - the man who dated your mom for years, the one you can’t fucking stand, arrogant smirk devious as he moves them up and down. The pressure is too much, your head falls back, for his tattooed hand to grab a tit and squish.

“Ah!” You can’t stop that noise from escaping, before biting your lip, trying to hold back the noise.

“Such a little slut, already squirting down my fingers,” you looked in the mirror, Sukuna’s thick digits coated in your slick slipping into your mouth again, while his cock started rubbing up and down your slit. “Hah - fuckin look at you, ya want this inside you brat? Should beg for it.”

You shook your head, even as you arch your ass out for his cock, letting his tip glide between your folds, making lewd and wet noises that echo in the club’s bathroom, teeth nipping his fingers. “No, sure won’t – can’t stand you.”

“Ah, really? Why ya so soaked then, huh?” he’s grinning with a sharp flash of white teeth, lifting your thigh up so a knee was on the counter, pressing in then, hearing your gasp. “Fuck, feel her gripping me. You really hate your mom this much?”

“Just fuck me and shut up already - ah!” Sukuna needs no further urging, his cock is stretching you out so much you can’t take it, screaming out and earning a hand clamped around your mouth.

“So tight, loosen the fuck up,” he grumbles, you scowl even as your hole is quivering, gushing liquid all down his shaft, his fingers sink into your thighs, shoving his cock in so deep you can’t take it. “Feel her grippin’ me, tryna make me bust quick?”

“No, want you to make me cum first,” you take his hand off your face as you speak, slipping it down to touch your clit, he groans, fucking you harder, your hand guiding his to get that perfect angle, your legs are shaking, your vision blurring.

"Feel better than her too," you're desperately crying out at that, clamping down on his thick, veiny cock. "That get you closer? Fucked up little girl, aren't you?"

"Fuck you," you are but right now you just want every thought fucked out of your head, and Sukuna’s cock is so big it’s hard to get irritated with his snarky grin in that reflection. He pulls his finger off and you gasp. “Put it back!”

“Not till I say so,” he smacks your clit hard instead, lifting you when your knees buckle like it’s nothing. “Think you tell me what to do?”

“Lost darts, such a l-loser -hah!” He scowls and fucks you harder, which was exactly your goal, pretty grin on your face that makes him pulse inside you - tightest little grip he’s ever felt.

“Crazy little brat,” he huffs, but he’s lost in you, in not just how good you feel on his cock, his tip slamming that cervix, but your little sounds, your movements, your eyes rolling back in your skull. Sukuna loves to fuck, but he’s never felt whatever psycho witch magic you’re putting on him, burying his face for a moment. “Feel s’perfect.”

“Huh? Ah!” You think you hear something, but Sukuna just bites the fuck out of your neck instead, your head falls to the side, crying out to let him finally toy with your needy, twitchy clit. “Please, there, there.”

“Needy whore,” he is spitting the meanest words but all it does is make you closer, tummy clenching with hot need, his cock ruining you for anyone – even if you’d never fucking say it. “Need it?”

“Yes, f-fuck just, keep going,” your voice is a hoarse little whisper, one of his hands is toying with a nipple, the other working your clit while his cock drags on your spot, blinding you. “Oh god…”

“That’s it, cum on your stepdad’s cock,” you glare at him, even as he chuckles against your skin, ruby eyes lit up in the mirror. “Cunt is pulsing, you love that nasty shit, admit it.”

“You’re n-nasty, shut the fuck up and – oh my god,” you’re shattering with one more thrust and roll of his rough fingers, desperately whining out while he keeps pumping. Sukuna is holding you there in that sweet spot, making you shake and quiver while your orgasm shuts off your damn brain. “Ngh!”

“Look at that, the stepdad got you squirting,” you would glare if you weren’t trembling, he’s thickening inside you, slowing his movements, letting you ride it out on his slick cock. “Damaged fucking brat, feel this good?”

“It’s the m-mental issues,” he grins and you weakly laugh, for a moment you don’t know why you hated him so much, but only a moment. "Fuck me harder."

God Sukuna thinks he’s in love right now.

“Freaky slut, just wanna get used?”

You nod, he grabs your throat and chokes you, slamming into you like he owns you, like you're just a toy for his pleasure. He's relentless, his cock hitting you in all the right places, making you feel so full, his filthy strokes so loud they’re echoing.

"F-fuck... you're gonna make me cum," he grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. "You want it?"

"Y-yes," you pant, throat constricted, your eyes wide with lust. You want to feel him fill you up, to know that you've made him lose control just like he's made you.

“Can you take it all?”

“Shut up and cum, stepdad,” you tease, but he moans then, kissing your lips all sloppy, saliva dripping with the drool that’s pooled down the side of your lips, his hot cum flooding your pussy. 

For a moment, you're lost in the haze of pleasure, the world outside the bathroom forgotten completely, so warm and dripping him already. But reality quickly crashes back in after he pumps a few more times, murmuring your name, pastel locks damp and sticking to his brow. You start to come to a bit, even drunk, and you realize what you've done. What you're still doing.

Maybe you feel just a little bad that his cum is starting to drip from your hole, but only the tiniest bit. He pulls out with a wet, suctioned pop and leaves you so empty you have to bite back the whine. You struggle to get your breath, shaking your head to clear your mind and grabbing at napkins, he smacks them out of the way, smirking and turning you to face him.

“Lemme clean up, weirdo,” he chuckles, slipping his two fingers down to where his milky seed is dripping, swirling around it until he shoves it back inside you. You gasp, head falling back, lashes fluttering shut and the soreness you already have, he just presses that cum right back in. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t waste it, you won it you know,” he pumps it up again, curling his fingers so that you almost cum again, pushing it even deeper, before pulling them out with a filthy wet squelch, sucking his own white ropes and you arousal off his fingers. He moans then, pink lashes fluttering shut, cheeks hollowing.

You stare, mouth open, waiting for red eyes to focus on you. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Tasting us,” he tilts your chin up and kisses your lips, mixing both of your flavors on your tongue in the sluttiest fucking action. “Mnh…”

You both pull apart quickly when someone opens the bathroom, Sukuna has your tits put up but they’re stumbling drunk and giggling, staring at their phone. Your reality does start to hit, cursing yourself and rushing out then, adjusting your dress that he had up your thighs.

Fuck that felt too good.

Your sister calls you now, you answer as Sukuna unhurriedly steps out of the ladies room. “Yeah sis?”

“Oh my god, did you hear Sukuna is coming? Ah I loved him! I wish mom had stayed with him, you know?”

You frown, eyeing Sukuna and his shit eating grin. “Um… yeah I guess he was okay.”

“Mom still has the hots for him, wouldn’t it be romantic if she got back with him?” You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, the smallest guilt seeping in more and more, but you throw back another shot, drinking it down. “Also if you got with someone finally!”

“Yeah, I dunno about mom or me, but I’m glad for you sis,” she sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, love you!”

“Love you too,” you hang up the phone, Sukuna leans over the bar then, handing the bartender his card.

“Pay for hers too,” you raise a glass to him, his lips twitch up at the corners. “You got a ride back?”

“I’ll get an uber.”

“It’s nothing to -”

“There, got one,” you smile at him and wave the screen. “But thank you for offering.”

“Yeah,” he wants more of you, that could not be enough. He won’t say that shit out loud though. “See you at the..." he smirks now. "Rehearsal.”

“Yeah, um…” you awkwardly stand there, looking down as he looks too intently at you. “Night.”

You rush off without another word, inhaling the night air and wondering just how bad you fucked it all up.

"Grab me the folder with the October 3rd case files, please, dear."

Higuruma's request snaps you out of your daydreams—body jerking as heat burns your cheeks.

"O-Of course!"

You know exactly where to go, at least. Every misplaced document, every obscure reference—you've long since mapped the chaos of Higuruma Hiromi's filing system.

Locating the folder within seconds, the brief contact of his fingers grazing yours as you hand it over makes you clench.

"Thank you, doll."

Higuruma doesn't look up, his eyes are already scanning the document. Clearly your touch doesn't stir anything in him.

Right.

You get it. You do. 

It's not cruelty—just a single-minded determination from a habitually overworked and underfucked attorney moonlighting as a sorcerer. 

Higuruma is well practiced in putting his own needs to the side for others, his entire life has been dedicated to it—you can't bear to fault him for that.

So you retreat. Back to the sofa in the corner of his office, the sting tucked behind a tired smile. Higuruma isn't the only one who knows how to compartmentalize.

Still, the thought lingers—is there even a point in staying?

He doesn't need you. Not really.

Higuruma managed for years as a public defender before the Culling Games. He's more than capable of grabbing his own files.

Besides, it's not like the jujutsu higher-ups assigned you here for your legal expertise. The "Executive Legal Assistant" line is just civilian window dressing— a polite way of saying leash.

Your real title? Assistant Manager of Jujutsu Tech.

A handler for a newly ranked special-grade sorcerer too stubborn to give up his day job entirely.

Higuruma compromised just enough to move to private practice, but still takes most cases pro bono after a reduced retainer.

He knows exactly why you're here—and he's never once made you feel lesser for it.

Which makes the guilt so much worse. He's buried in this case: a scholarship kid bullied into a false confession, parents who scraped together everything for his retainer.

Meanwhile, you're sulking because he won't touch you.

God, his noble to a fault principles make you damn near feral though.

Pouting from your spot on the sofa, you steal another glance at Higuruma.

You decided long ago it's enormously unfair for a man to wear exhaustion as well as he does. The warm glow of the desk lamp traces his profile—his sharp nose, strong jaw, the thick column of his throat and the strain visibly knotted across his broad shoulders. 

The same coiled tension he'd carried that night a month ago that obliterated all lines of professionalism.

It’d been straight off a mission. Higuruma dealt with dual first-grade curses, nasty work—and then went right back to his desk. But he was wound too tight and although determined to finish his work, could not keep his fingers from digging into the crook of his neck.

When you offered to help him, you were only being considerate.

A friendly massage. Honestly, that's all it was. 

Higuruma even tried to refuse you but one firm press into his stiff muscles and he groaned. The sound was purely guttural, vibrating through your palms and straight to your cunt.

Immediately all protests silenced as his head drooped forward, breath going ragged. His grunts continued and by the time you fully worked out the second knot, you were dripping.

It took everything in you to steady your hands, to hide how much his pleasure was affecting you. But then you slipped—and a soft, needy sound fumbled out of you, impossible to swallow back. Your breath fanned warm across his neck, scattering goosebumps along his nape.

Everything after that blurred together.

His hands hauling you into his lap.

His mouth devouring yours.

The expensive oak desk slamming against the wall as he drove into you like a man possessed, your name caught between his teeth like a prayer.

You don't remember how it ended—only that eventually, Higuruma untangled himself from you and led you wordlessly to the private shower attached to his office. One of the few perks of private practice he'd actually come to appreciate.

He washed you with reverence—slow, thorough, like you were something precious. And then he ruined that image entirely by dropping to his knees and lewdly slurping his cum out of your cunt like it was his last meal. Nose buried in your clit, tongue pushing deep, water pouring down his face. He was half-drowning—between the shower and your squirt—and couldn't have cared less.

Legs like goo, you still don't know how you remained standing through it all.

You were still catching your breath as you toweled off when he murmured something about feeding you, fingers tracing your hip.

Twenty minutes later: you were at an all-night izakaya, just the two of you. Your first date, technically. Confirmed by the way he slid into the booth beside you instead of across—his hand finding your thigh like it belonged there. It never left. Only crept higher, fingertips ghosting over your clit through thin silk while you pretended to study the menu. The owner lingered too long taking your order, teasing you for something as plain as eggs and furikake rice, his tone edging toward flirtation as he challenged if your date was too cheap to buy you a real meal. You stumbled over your defense of Higuruma as Higuruma's knuckle replaced his fingertips, grinding against your clit.

That's when you learned how possessive Higuruma Hiromi could be.

"That man is testing my patience," Higuruma murmured the second the owner turned away. His mouth barely moved against your ear, voice terrifyingly calm, knuckle still working slow circles through your folds. "Should I sit you right here in my lap? Let him watch you come undone, doll, hm?"

You were already plenty undone though—your slick leaking onto beat-up vinyl seat.  “Don’t worry, I won’t. This noisy girl attracts too much unnecessary attention—” Higuruma leans forward to shield you from view as more patrons walk in “—we don’t need a public indecency charge, hm?”  

He wasn't wrong. The slick click-click of your pussy squelches were already obscene—a few patrons' eyes flickered around, searching for the source—and it only got louder as he nudged past the lace, stroking you wider, fingertip dipping teasingly into your core.

“H-Hiro…”

With a sly quirk of his lip, he pulls back, reaching casually for his coffee before slipping the mug under the table.

“Alright, alright. At least allow me some of your cream for my coffee as a consolation, dear.”

He paid, of course. You tried to protest, but it's hard to argue when you can barely stand—legs still trembling from an hour of relentless teasing.

He'd ordered three cups of coffee total. Every single one required a fresh dollop of your cream.

By the time you reached his condo, you needed him desperately again. Engine off, keys still in the ignition—you climbed into the backseat and sank onto his cock. You rode him until dawn crept through the fogged glass and your legs gave out. 

He invited you to stay but you were possibly in enough trouble already if your family noticed you hadn’t returned. Working late was understandable—but there’d be hell if you missed breakfast without prior notice.

That was a Saturday.

Come Monday, this case landed on his desk, and he hadn't touched you since.

Instead?

Fresh flowers rotating through the vase on your desk.

The occasional delivery of white strawberries.

Macarons from the French bakery Higuruma pretended to overbuy when you knew he only bought them for you. The closest to real intimacy you got all month were stolen moments where he’d sweep your hand into his, lips brushing your knuckles when he was certain no one else could see.

Sure these breadcrumbs were enough to keep you hoping but not nearly enough to keep you sane. 

Who the hell courts you like a Regency novel heroine—after you’ve already spent a night all over each other fucking like rabbits?! 

You don't think even Elizabeth Bennet suffered this kind of agonizing tension—she certainly didn't have the memory of Mr. Darcy's tongue swirling in her cunt to keep her up at night.

But what could you do? You couldn't seem needy or immature—not to a man a decade your senior. Not if you wanted this to mean something.

You were doing fine. Keeping it together. Right up until last week.

Junior lawyers crowded the watercooler, loud and willfully oblivious to the fact that women also use the break room—braying about No Nut November like overgrown frat boys comparing notes. You kept your back to them, cursing the espresso machine to hurry the hell up.

Relief flooded you when Higuruma appeared in the doorway.

Finally, an escape.

Then he opened his mouth.

"Some of us don't find distractions quite so difficult to set aside when the work matters." His gaze swept over them. "I'd recommend you develop the same discipline, gentlemen."

Distractions.

You'd previously told yourself this case had forced you both into accidental celibacy. No Nut November participants by circumstance, not choice. But the way he'd said it—distractions—so cool, so clinical, like sexual urges were just clutter to tidy away.

You'd think a man who fucked you that desperately would be crawling back for more?!

But he hadn't.

And that distance made you wonder if you'd gotten it all wrong. Maybe the gifts weren't courtship—just consideration. The polite gestures of a man who'd used you and wanted to keep things friendly on the rare occasion he needed an indulgence.

Like a work wife with benefits.

The fact the office cleared out hours ago and he’s hardly looked at you for more than a few seconds convinces you of this more and more, the thoughts spiraling as—

"You know I hate to keep you late." The words yank you out of your head. Right. You're still here. He's still here. "If you need to leave, dove, I can manage."

Your stomach drops. Higuruma asked you to stay tonight, so you thought maybe—

"No, I'm fine. Really." Unconvincing, even to yourself.

"Mm." He nods—eyes already back on his files.

Dismissed in a syllable.

Trying to push aside the hurt, the files in your lap blur as you pretend to read them, legs crossing and uncrossing, the leather groaning beneath your restless shifting. Now on top of everything else, your feet are screaming—new stilettos, three inches higher than normal.

You'd dressed to kill all month hoping a part of him would be superficial enough notice.

Wincing, your arches are aching from your red-bottoms. You're starting to suspect it's less about the lacquer and more about the crime scene your heels will leave behind if your arches just so happen to split in two. Still, they make your legs look sinful—and you'll plead guilty to first-degree pick me-ism if it gets Higuruma to look up from his goddamn papers for more than a minute.

"Take them off.”

Flustered, your eyes snap up to see Higuruma appraising you over the document in his hands. 

When did he start watching you again?

"Your shoes, dove."

Higuruma follows up when you don’t respond, faint amusement lingering on his words.

"It's fine, really—" You wave off his concern, gesturing vaguely at your feet. "They're still new. Haven't broken them in quite yet."

"You've been wincing for the last twenty minutes." Higuruma’s voice is firm but not unkind as he regards you. His eyes linger on your legs long enough for you to notice this time. 

"Take them off."

"I don't want to be unprofessional—" 

"It's nearly midnight." The corner of his mouth twitches a sly smile. "And…I think we're well past professional civilities, don't you?"

Are we?

You swallow the retort as Higuruma examines another folder on his desk. Part of you wants to be a big brat about it—to punish him for ignoring you. You want to crawl onto his desk force his eyes onto you.

But the thought alone makes you shy away. You're much too proud for that.

So you ease the shoe off slowly, quietly, propping your stockinged foot on the sofa's edge to reach the second strap. Your wool skirt rides up your thighs in the process—but you're almost certain he's not watching anyway.

Except you hear papers fluttering and when you glance up, Higuruma's pen is frozen mid-stroke.

His gaze isn't on your feet.

It's fixed on your thighs, more specifically, the black lace of your garters clipped to stockings that have your soft flesh swelling over them.

His throat bobs as he white-knuckles the pen in his grasp.

For a long moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just looks at you as his eyes trail lower and the proof of how needy you've been for him all night is evident in the way your panties clinging to every fold.

Higuruma resembles a man who's been presented a ten-course meal after a strict fast.

Yet his next words still surprise you.

"You've been punishing yourself."

"What?"

"For my attention. You've been wearing new heels, every night this week." Higuruma’s tone is stripped of its usual composure although he's still clinical in his assessment. "You usually wear the round-toed black pair. Two inches, cushioned sole. These—" His gaze flicks to the discarded shoes, then back to you. "Your legs don't need the extra height, doll. Never did."

Heat floods your cheeks. He'd noticed?! 

This whole time, drowning in case files, barely sparing you a glance—

"The blouse is new too." Higuruma notes, almost to himself, like he’s reading off the facts in a case file. "Tuesday it was the silk one. Wednesday, the black skirt with the small slit at the back."

Your heart slams against your ribs as he continues to recall your outfits.

"I-I thought you weren't paying attention."

"I wasn't giving you any." Higuruma’s mouth twists—bitter and self-directed in his ire. "That's not the same thing."

"It's okay. You've been busy—"

"Don't." 

The word is soft but final as he rises from his desk walking over to you on the sofa.

"Don't make excuses for me—or I'll hate myself even more than I already do..."

Higuruma drags a hand down his face as he deflates with a tired exhale. "Watching you walk in every morning looking like that. Knowing exactly what sounds you make when I—"

He stops. You watch him swallow it down—whatever he was about to say, whatever he was about to do. His eyes have gone nearly black, looking like he may pounce on you at any moment.

"I couldn't only give you ten minutes between depositions. Couldn't touch you the way you deserve and then casually ask you to hand me a file or drive me to the next mission like nothing happened." 

Your head is spinning at the revelations, wanting to say something but you are at an utter loss. 

"So I kept my distance." He confesses. "Thought if I could just finish this case—I could give you a night where I could take my time with you. Take you apart properly, then put you back together after."

Higuruma is standing over you now, his presence like a physical weight. "Like a fool, I was so consumed with self-martyrdom I never stopped to consider if I was forcing yours."

You move to stand, to reach for him—

“Stay.”

It's less command than it is a contrite supplication.

"Stay right there, doll," Higuruma repeats—and the crack in his voice betrays him—as does the tent in his slacks.

The sound he makes when he catches you staring is barely human—a low, rumbling growl. You watch his cock twitch harder against his slacks.

You search for his eyes, but his focus is locked on your tongue sweeping across your lips.

Higuruma loosens his tie, slowly as his eyes begin their descent—down your throat, your breasts, your stomach—until it lands between your thighs and stays there. Fixed on the wet patch darkening your lace. 

He crouches before you, hands finding your calf. His thumb strokes the curve of the stocking covered muscle with reverence, he's memorizing the shape of you not only by sight but touch as well.

"Bring the other up." You've never heard him sound like this—barely holding on. "Y-Yes, just like that. Now lay back—hips forward."

Pulse hammering, you sink deeper into the cushions, propping your leg up as his hands find your hips, guiding them forward, bunching your skirt around your waist.

"Good girl."

Your pussy is fully on display now and Higuruma makes a wounded noise as his eyes rake over the panties that have given up pretending to hold in your swollen folds long ago.

"Christ." 

The word punches out of him. His fingers skim the lace edge—barely grazing—and still come back glistening with your slick.

Higuruma swallows hard. "It's criminal the way my girl's been hiding all this under those prim little suits."

His girl.

Higuruma lifts one of your legs, extending it slowly until your stockinged foot rests flat against his chest. His heart pounds beneath your arch, the beat syncing with the pulsating ache of your clit.

His hands work down your leg, firm and thorough, pressing into sore muscles until pleasure bleeds through the ache. Your head tilts back as you stifle a moan and his grip tightens in response.

"I know I don't deserve it, dove, but at least allow me to hear you while I worship you, my dear."

Simultaneously, his thumbs dig into the ball of your foot, and the tension you've been carrying all night unspools in a single, embarrassingly loud whimper.

From the devious look on his face, it's exactly what he wanted.

Higuruma presses a kiss to your Achilles—another apology—and you shiver. He sets your foot down gently, repeats the ritual on the other side. Just as slow. Just as thorough.

A knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he guides your legs up, stockinged feet sliding over his shoulders until you're spread open before him. He leans forward, nuzzling into the fold of your knee—and the scrape of his stubble makes your hips jerk.

“You know, at times I swore I could smell how badly she missed me.” He murmurs into your stockings. “Right through your pretty little skirts." 

Higuruma’s actions follow his words, tracing a slow path with his aquiline nose from your knee to your pussy. "Mmm. I was right. She's been weeping so sweetly through your panties like a needy little thing for weeks, hasn't she?"

Your whines answer for you.

"What about No Nut November?" you whisper, breathless, raising your hips to push his nose in deeper. "I wouldn't want to be a distraction..."

Higuruma inhales deeply, savoring your raw scent. "Never." He exhales breathlessly.

"Everything else has been a distraction from you." His voice drops to gravel, vibrating through you.

You haven’t even savored the admission properly before there's a sharp snap and his teeth bite through one of your garters, tugging the ruined elastic away with a growl before repeating the action.

"Please, Hiro—" You mewl, thighs trembling.

He looks up at you with those dark, knowing eyes. Exhausted and hungry in equal measure.

"This is part of my sentence, doll." His thumb strokes the crease of your thigh, maddeningly gentle. "Trust me—it's far more agonizing for me."

You doubt that.

But you don't dare contradict him—not when there's something sadistic lurking behind all that apology. Something that tells you a part of him would get off on deny you just a tiny bit longer.

His tongue drags flat over your panties, pressing wet fabric into your slit, sucking your slick through the lace like he's trying to wring every drop out.

"These are in my way." He doesn't bother with his teeth this time—just hooks his fingers in the lace and tears.

Riiiip.

You squeal as cool air hits your bare cunt for half a second before his mouth replaces it. The second his tongue splits your folds, every other thought dissolves.

Your head falls back against the cushions as his tongue drags through your folds with long, broad strokes. Like he's been dreaming about this exact taste for a month and finally, finally gets to indulge.

His lips seal over your clit and suck, hard enough that your hips buck off the sofa. His hands dig into the meat of your thighs, pinning you open, holding you still as they quake in his grasp.

"Told you to stay."

The command growled against your cunt, but your body isn’t listening, still squirming as he dips into your entrance, gathering your slick before dragging it back up to your clit—then he spits, letting your own arousal drip onto your swollen nub before his mouth descends again.

"H-Hiro!"

Higuruma doesn't answer.

He's much too occupied with his repentance. Tongue extended, his face is pulled back just enough so you can see the exact pattern being cruelly branded on your sensitive bud as he roughly flicks under your clitoral hood, pushing it back. It's methodical and devastatingly thorough—like he's building a case with his mouth and your orgasm is the verdict.

Though for a defense attorney, the way he's attacking your cunt feels suspiciously prosecutorial.

Your hips tilt up, desperate to ride his face, and he lets you—lips releasing your clit only to plunge his tongue straight into your core, rimming your entrance before fucking into you rapidly. Every thrust grinds his nose further into your clit. His hands find your ass, gripping soft flesh, spreading your cheeks as he lifts your hips to help you rock against his mouth.

This man would happily perish between your thighs.

You're certain of it now.

His own broken groans echo inside your cunt, high off the fact of simply giving you pleasure—and that's what sends you over. You cum hard, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the sofa as the orgasm tears through you in waves, ecstasy coursing in your veins.

But he doesn't stop.

His tongue keeps working, lapping up your release, his face slick and shining with you. When you try to squirm away—oversensitive and trembling—his grip tightens on your thighs, dragging you back to his mouth.

"I'm not done with you yet, doll."

The words come out ragged, muffled against your puffy cunny as Higuruma's cheek rests against your inner thigh, lips swollen and spit-slick, still connected to your pussy by a thin string of your arousal. He's panting—actually panting—looking genuinely pained by the fact that he has to stop to breathe oxygen instead of burying himself deeper in your folds.

You don't think you could deny Higuruma anything like this.

"One more, Hiro." His breathing quickens at your permission. "T-Then fuck me. Please."

Higuruma doesn't bother with words. Just action—diving back into your depths like a man possessed.

One of his hands releases your thigh, finds your wrist and drags your fingers into his hair.

"Pull." The command is muffled but unmistakable.

You oblige—or rather, you're forced to when his teeth graze your clit and your nails dig into his scalp on instinct. Higuruma growls in pleasure, the sound rumbling through your core.

He has to be aching. Hard enough to hurt, trapped in those slacks. You can't see him from this angle, but you wouldn't be surprised if he's leaking through his slacks from the way he's moaning into your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. A pool of your creamy juices has already gathered on the leather beneath you, obscene and growing in size by the second.

Delirious words spill from his lips between licks—praise and filth whispered directly into your cunt like prayers.

"So sweet—"

A broad lick from entrance to clit.

"So pretty—"

His tongue fucks into you, curling.

"—my divine atonement—"

Your slick coats his chin, his cheeks, drips down his jaw, and he only gets hungrier. More desperate. More crazed. Every gush of arousal you give him is an aphrodisiac—he laps it up like a man dying of thirst, shows no signs of stopping, no signs this will be your last orgasm, only growing more feral as you unravel beneath him.

"P-Pleaseeeee ohh—!"

The second climax builds faster than the first—sharper, meaner, your whole body wound tight as a wire. His tongue relentlessly assaults your clit while two fingers sink into your cunt without warning, crooking against that spot inside you, and your vision whites out.

"That's my pretty girl."

Higuruma pulls back just enough to let you ride out the aftershocks, fingers still drawing merciless circles on your oversensitive clit.

Somewhere behind the roar of blood in your ears, you hear a belt click as fabric shifts. You force your eyes to focus—watching his slacks fall as he stands, his cock springing free—flushed and heavy, bobbing as his cockhead smeared with pre drips down the length of him.

Fuck. Somehow Higuruma looks even bigger than you remember, thick enough to make your whole body clench with want and fear in equal measure.

He kneels, dragging your hips to the edge. His hand wraps around himself, stroking, and you hold your breath—finally, finally—

But he just slaps his cock against your clit. Tap, tap, tap. Precum and spit and slick mixing obscenely

You squirm, clearly overstimmed which draws a smug chuckle from him.

"Is it terrible that I enjoy teasing you?"

"Hiro—" You whine, hips jerking toward him. You pout up at him sweetly—and watch his cock twitch in response. His resolve visibly cracking.

"Yes, doll. Say it again." Higuruma's cock notches at your entrance, pressing but not pushing. "Scream it this time, for me yes?"

You expect more teasing, more torture.

Instead, he snaps his hips forward in one brutal thrust—splitting you open until he's buried to the hilt.

You scream his name so loud you don't even hear it leave your throat.

You might have cum again—you only know because of the string of expletives spilling from Higuruma's mouth, his composure finally shattered.

"F-Fuck, dove—" He's panting, forehead pressed to yours. "She's choking me. You need to relax." A strained laugh escapes him. "She feels like a noose—and I'd prefer to avoid capital punishment tonight, if it's all the same to you."

You can't answer, tears streaming as you gasp from him filling you so completely. Higuruma leans down and licks them up too, tongue tracing the salt tracks on your skin. You're starting to think he's genuinely obsessed with your bodily fluids.

Higuruma pecks your lips gently, letting you adjust.

"Have you not been touching yourself?" His voice is softer now, curiously teasing as he admires the state simply sticking his cock in has reduced you to. "Have you been waiting for me all this time?"

"I w-wasn't g-gonna" You swallow, cunt fluttering around him. "B-But it wasn't enough. It wasn't y-you."

"'Wasn't gonna', huh?" He mocks you, his rich baritone tickling your senses as his thumb returns to your clit to flick over her languidly.

"Naughty girl." He kisses the corner of your mouth. "But I suppose I'll argue a plea deal in your defense this once. It was my fault after all for neglecting you."

Your thighs burn from being spread around his broad hips, the sheer weight of him pressing you into the sofa, his knees braced on the floor. When you finally loosen around him—walls relaxing, body surrendering to him—he slips his tongue into your mouth as his hips begin to move.

Small thrusts at first. Micro-movements. Like he can't bear to have even an inch of himself outside the warm embrace of your slick walls.

Then his hand presses down on your lower belly, and your eyelashes flutter as your eyes roll back.

"There it is." He groans, grinding deeper. "Can you feel how she makes room for me?"

Higuruma doesn't give you the chance to answer before he picks up the pace, hand staying pressed to your stomach, savoring every twitch of your muscles. The exact movement of your guts shifting around him—how your body so lovingly allows him to ruin her from the inside out.

His teeth find your bottom lip, biting down as his other hand slides up to your throat, fingers wrapping around the column of your neck. He squeezes lightly, rhythmically, matching the desperate clench of your pretty pussy around him.

Higuruma wants to cum with you. But he can feel you're already there—already tipping over the edge—

"Hiro... 'm gonna—"

"Oh?" He doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder. "Without me, dear? How inconsiderate." His thumb presses into the side of your throat. "Go ahead. But I won't be granting leniency. You cum now and then you're going to keep coming until I say stop."

"P-Pleaseeee, m-mercyyy—" You're babbling, desperate. The word slips out before you can stop it: "—Judge."

Higuruma almost cums right then and there, hips stuttering.

"Oh, you're pushing it now, princess."

Your doe eyes blink up at him, and somewhere beneath the desperation, you find the brat in you after all.

"What's wrong, your honor?" The words drip from your lips like honey, saccharine and deliberately provocative. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

Higuruma's grip tightens on your throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who's in control here. His hips still, cock buried deep, twitching inside you.

"Careful, dove."

You clench around him deliberately.

Something in him snaps. No more warnings.

Higuruma pulls out and you're immediately feeling the loss of him—but before you can protest, his hands are hooking under your thighs and hauling your ass up off the sofa.

Drenched in your combined mess, and his grip slips once before he adjusts, hoisting you higher. Your legs end up over his shoulders, folded nearly in half, and you have nothing—no wall behind you, no leverage, nothing to hold onto but the thick column of his neck.

Completely at Higuruma's mercy.

Your nails dig into his skin on instinct—the only anchor you have.

"There we go." He groans at the bite of pain, positioning his cock at your entrance. "Hold on tight, princess."

He slams you down onto him in one brutal drop.

You scream.

The angle is devastating—deeper than before, impossibly deep, his cock splitting you open while gravity does the rest. You have no control here. Can't set the pace, can't shift positions—can't do anything but cling to him and take it. Every thrust jolts through your entire body, punching the air from your lungs.

Your nails rake down his neck and he hisses, but his eyes roll back in pleasure, not pain.

"Harder." He commands. "Mark me up. I want to feel you for days."

You're too fucked-out to process it fully—is he sadistic or masochistic? Both? Does it matter when he's bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing, arms flexing as he lifts and drops you with terrifying ease? You're nothing but a vessel now, suspended and speared utterly for his pleasure.

"I'm going to take care of you, princess. Take care of this pretty pussy." His palms grip your ass, fingers digging in white-knuckled, desperate for leverage as he fucks up into you. "Going to make sure she never goes hungry again. Every morning. Every night. Whenever she asks for it."

"Hiro—" You're sobbing, pleasure cresting unbearably high, just gasps and moans punched out of you with every thrust. "Please, I need to—I can't—"

"Not yet." Higuruma's jaw clenches, fighting his own release. "Hold it."

"I-I c-c-can't—" Your walls are fluttering around him, clenching involuntarily, and you see stars at the edges of your vision. "P-Please, please, J-Judge, I'll do anythinggggg—"

"Anything?" His hips stutter at the title, cock kicking inside you. "Dangerous words, doll. I'll hold you to them."

His grip on your ass tightens, nails biting into the soft flesh now—mirroring what you're doing to his neck. The wet slap of skin echoes obscenely through the office, your slick dripping down his thighs, pooling on the hardwood beneath you.

"From now on—" He's losing rhythm, thrusts turning erratic. "—this pussy gets what she needs... you'll come to me? You'll tell me exactly what she needs?"

"Y-Yes—y-yes!!! Jusss p-pleaseeee—"

"Every ache—" A brutal thrust. "—every need—" Another. "—you bring it to me. Understood?"

You're babbling incoherent confirmations, head lolling back, eyes rolling into your skull.

"Cum, then. Give it to me, babydoll—"

The orgasm tears through you like a live wire—blinding, violent, your pussy clamping down so hard he chokes on a moan. Your nails draw blood on his neck and he growls, burying himself to the hilt—

And then you feel it.

The first hot pulse of him flooding your insides. His cock kicking against your walls, swelling impossibly thicker as he empties himself into you. Rope after rope of cum painting your clenching cunt, so deep you swear you feel the warmth in your throat.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. The noises of your breathing filling the space.

His cock is still buried inside you, softening but not quite soft, and you can feel his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodies—dripping down your thighs, onto the floor, adding to the mess you've already made of his office.

Higuruma's forehead drops to yours, hips grinding through the aftershocks, working every last drop into you. "You feel that? How much I saved for you, dove?"

You can only whimper in response. You do feel it—the obscene heat spreading through your core, the way his cum has nowhere to go with his cock still plugging you full. When he shifts his hips, grinding deeper, some of it squelches out around the seal of your bodies.

"Taking it so well—" His voice is shot, barely above a rasp. "Milking every drop—good girl—"

Your legs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking.

"Hiro..." You're slurring, drunk on him. "Can't... can't feel my legs..."

A breathless laugh rumbles through his chest. "Mm." He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then the tear tracks still drying on your skin. Unbearably tender after everything he just did to you. "That's what happens when you taunt a man who's been starving for a month, doll." 

"Worth it," you giggle.

"Brat." But there's only fondness in his voice.

Slowly, carefully, he shifts his grip—one arm hooked under your ass, the other cradling your back as he finally lets your legs slide off his shoulders. You wince at the change in angle, cunt clenching involuntarily around him, and he groans.

"Easy." His voice is strained. "Keep doing that and we won't make it to the shower."

You're tempted to test him. But exhaustion wins out, your body going limp against his chest as he carries you toward the bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up." His lips brush your temple. "Then I'll take you home, hm?"

You pout. After everything—after a month of waiting, of longing, of convincing yourself you were nothing but a convenient release—you're not ready for this to end.

Not ready to go back to your empty apartment and pretend tonight didn't change everything.

Higuruma catches the look on your face and chuckles softly.

"I mean my home," he clarifies, nudging the bathroom door open with his shoulder. "We can clean up properly there. I'll cook you breakfast." He sets you down on the counter, and you shiver at the cold marble against your bare skin—but he doesn't pull out, not yet, his half-hard cock still nestled inside you like he can't bear the separation either. "Then I can worship you the way you deserve. Properly. Without a deadline or a case file waiting on my desk."

Your heart stutters. "You don't have to—"

"I want to." His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and his eyes—god, his eyes are so soft now. Tired and tender and looking at you like you're something precious. "I should have done this a month ago. Should have made time. Should have told you what you are to me instead of assuming you'd wait."

"I would have." The admission slips out before you can stop it. "Waited, I mean. For you. I would have."

Something fractures in his expression. He doesn't say anything—just pulls you closer, pressing his lips to your forehead like he's trying to seal a promise there.

"You shouldn't have had to. No more waiting. No more silence. From now on, you tell me what you need—and I'll give it to you. Understood?"

"Understood, counselor."

His lips twitch. "Careful. You keep using titles and we'll never leave this bathroom."

You grin, exhausted and fucked-out and deliriously happy. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Both." He kisses you then—tongue gliding against yours, your taste still lingering. When he pulls back, his cock twitches inside you, thickening again.

"Definitely both."

"Mm." You pull back, pretending to consider. "I don't know. A month is a looooong time. I might need extensive compensation."

"Is that so?" Higuruma quirks a brow.

"Yup! Emotional damages. Pain and suffering." You tick them off on your fingers. "Loss of consortium—"

"You don't know what half those terms mean."

"I know what I want them to mean." you say slyly, clenching around him once more.

Realistically, you don't think either of you are leaving this office tonight.

His laugh rumbles against your lips.

"I'll allow it, counselor. Motion granted."

blkkizzat ©2023-2026 no ai, reposting, plagiarism nor translation allowed.

𝐚𝐧: ahhh i love writing higuruma as an EATERRRRRRRR. this one was a lil bit more angsty, well not really angsty, reader is just super horny and it's making her a delulu pick me cjksdbfkjvhsb. i mean the way he dicked her down tho, who could blame her? lol this one was a bit more cute endings than im used to writing. i feel like its a bit cheesy but w/e, we ball. im tired of editing it hfdjkvhbf. so also sorry for any errors or duplicate sentences as i reworked alot of this fbsdhbsd.