He lets out a huff of a laugh then looks down at you with a lazy smirk. His chest’s rising and falling in a steady rhythm that mocks your ragged gasps. You’re throwing your entire weight into him, and it barely registers as a nuisance.

“Baby are you serious? A sumo wrestler? That’s harsh, I’m definitely more aerodynamic than that.” he murmurs, playfully whilst continuing to watch you struggle against his solid frame with a look of secret amusement. “C’mon. Put your back into it, I’m barely even trying y’know?”

He sounds too pleased with himself. Your brows pinch together, jaw tightening as your teeth grind in contained irritation. This was your idea, but your competitive streak is now insisting this was, in fact, a bad idea. Frankly, it’s the tone you can’t stand, speaks like he’s graciously humoring a toddler. You want to hurt him. Or, failing that, at least remind him that gravity is supposed to apply to him, too.

So, you move. You hook your arms around him, your legs following suit as you try to wrench the momentum and roll him. For a split second, he shifts—and there is hope—then his hand, massive and quick, snaps around your ankles mid-air and hope is fleeting.

He forces your legs up and back, folding you like a pretzel until your heels are practically tucked behind your ears. It’s a position you’ve been put in many times, but not outside of the bedroom. It makes your skin crawl with heat. You’re exposed, crotch pressed into his. Your tight athletic shorts cling to your puffy folds and offer zero protection from the pressure of him.

“Okay, Satoru, what the fuck?” you choke out, blood rushing to your head.

“Shit reflex,” he laughs, sending a vibration through your trapped body. His crystalline eyes are dark, tracing the way you’re pinned underneath him. “My bad, baby.”

“You’re a dick. Let go.”

Naturally, he ignores you entirely and does the opposite with an infuriating grin that has him looking way too attractive for someone being this much of a prick.

“How about in a couple seconds, hm?”, His grip on you tightens and he hitches his hips forward, growing cock rubbing right against your clothed-cunt, “She feels soft. Haven’t rubbed up on her like this in a while, miss it.”

You look up and his white hair’s disheveled from and there’s a deep flush on the tips of his ears. He’s so pretty. It sucks how that face lets him get away with being such a degenerate.

“Fine,” you breathe out, the word caught in your throat. “Just make it quick. My legs are gonna cramp if you keep me locked like this.”

You don’t need to tell him twice ‘cuz he’s already humping into your pussy like an animal in heat. His sweats are thick, but they do nothing to hide the rock-hard length of him. Each time he drives his hips home, he’s grazing your clit through the dampening layers. He’s got your pretty pussy leaking like a broken faucet—slick patch spreading on the fabric. Each blunt shove against your folds drags a broken, messy string of moans out of you that you can't even try to swallow.

“Shit, feels so good,” he groans into your ear, body getting heavier, slumping on top of you, “we…fuck—we should play fight more often. Yeah? How’s that sound?”

He presses his mouth against yours, tasting like fruity flavored gum and sweets. You’re swallowing his moans, your own breath hitching as he keeps up his bruising pace. Then one final, harsh shove and he goes rigid. His eyes go semi-wide, pupils blown out and unfocused, fixed on nothing as his brain shorts out. Before you realize there’s already a heavy dampness flooding the space between you, white stringy liquid soaking through the fabric of his sweats and bleeding right into your own clothes.

He doesn't move for a long minute, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Then, slowly, he lifts his head and lets out a long exhale, his chests heaving and his signature smirk replaced by a look of daze.

"Well," he rasps, a lazy, lopsided grin slowly pulling at his mouth. "Think I’ll give you the win on that one. Though, you're a mess, babe. Completely soaked."

He pulls back just an inch, cartoonishly blue eyes tracking the damp mess of your shorts, "Pretty sure you're gonna need a shower to get all that off you.” He pauses, smiling at you cat-like, “Want to go see if I can fit in there with you? I promise to help with the hard-to-reach spots."

+ another dry humping post act shocked. ty sichee 4 proofreading @ouist

Earlier today, Wayne greeted him when he got home from the garage. Not unusual, but what was unusual was the box on the table in front of him. As Eddie got closer, he noticed a large, brick-like item in his uncle’s hand. 

“Holy shit, is that—”

“Yeah,” Wayne croaked, cutting him off gruffly. “‘Least it would be if I could figure out how t’work the damn thing.”

Eddie’s eyes were wide, his mind racing with a million thoughts as he watched the man glance from the cellphone to the manual nearby. 

“How the fuck did—”

“Ed!”

Heeding the sharp warning, he rephrased. 

“Sorry. How the shit did you get that? Aren’t they like four thousand bucks?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from the older man. 

Wayne rolled his eyes at his nephew’s correction, but passed the phone into his waiting hand nonetheless. “Won it in a raffle at work. City-Suits won’t give the line a raise, but apparently, they’ll blow thousands of dollars on useless shit,” he muttered angrily. 

An evil grin curled at Eddie’s lips as he eyed the expensive prize. “Oh, I don’t think it’s totally useless…”

As Eddie pulls himself up onto the roof, just outside your bedroom window, he giddily thinks of all the prank calls you and he are going to make. No one in the town is safe tonight.

But his fist freezes in mid-air, just a few inches short of the glass. His whole body goes rigid, and his heartrate spikes so high, he’s surprised he’s not keeling over from cardiac arrest. Then, he remembers himself.

“Shit!” he hisses, ducking beneath the sill. When he doesn’t hear a scream or a string of shocked expletives, he rises slowly to take a peek. 

There, in the dimly lit room, you lay on your bed in what has got to be the most compromising position he’s ever seen you in. And he was there at the pool a few summers ago, when you did a massive cannonball into the water, sending your top flying off on impact. That was the last time you ever wore a bikini—he’s been cursing the day ever since. Due to one stupid knot, the rest of his summers were frighteningly dull. 

But this moment might top that—

Because only five feet and one glass window away, you’re half-naked from the waist down and writhing with your hand shoved into your thin, purple underwear.

Eddie’s breathing turns shallow, and his jaw feels incapable of shutting as he ogles you stupidly. Practically frozen in place, he observes the way you squirm on untucked sheets, the way sweat beads at your hairline—small droplets glinting in the low lamplight. 

And just like that, his cock twitches to life, hardening faster than he’s ever felt it; leaking and throbbing furiously beneath the restrictive denim. But despite the discomfort, his trance remains unshaken. 

Your bare legs tremble with every bulging movement of your hand beneath your panties, and he licks his lips, imagining the cause. The way your fingers are probably catching your clit at the exact right angle, sending shockwaves through your limbs. 

The closer he gets, the more the window fogs from the warmth of his breath. Any urgency to hide is zapped from him the moment your mouth opens. He strains to hear the sighs you let out—the moans. But the glass is too thick. Or you’re too quiet. Either way, he feels like he’s going insane, not being able to listen to the noises you make. 

Blunt nails dig into his jean-clad thighs as he refrains from losing himself. This all feels so wrong, but he doesn't know what to do. He can’t knock on the window now, he can’t embarrass you like that. Because he knows you. He knows you’d be humiliated. He knows you probably wouldn’t talk to him for a month out of sheer mortification. And he can’t go a month without you.

But he also doesn’t think he has enough willpower to drag himself away from this damn window. To work his way down that damn trellis. And act like he didn’t see a damn thing when you come into the garage tomorrow, excited to greet him like you always are. You, perfectly innocent and none the wiser. Him, wrecked and changed forever. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he sees your back arch into the mattress, hips lifting in a messy, gyrating rhythm, like you’re meeting imaginary thrusts. Like you’re desperate for more. When your lips curve around a familiar shape, a singular word he recognizes but can’t, for the life of him, make out, he loses the fight. 

About to yank the window up, he freezes, then decides to set the heavy cellphone down on the roof. 

After all, Wayne will have his ass if he breaks the device. He can just imagine it slipping from his grip as he struggles to climb through your window. It’d go tumbling down the shingles, bouncing off the gutters, and plummeting to the ground below. He’s heard that these things are supposed to be sturdy, but he doesn’t know how sturdy. 

As he looks around for a safe spot to hide the phone, a thought occurs to him. And surprisingly, it’s not motivated by the throbbing ache in his pants. Well, not fully. 

Instead of charging in, guns blazing and risking a years-long friendship, he figures he should call first. It’s only polite.

Pulse thrumming in his throat, he dials your number—the one he knows by heart. Shrill ringing pierces the air—even permeating the thick glass—spooking you. He watches as you wrench your hand from beneath your panties and glance at the bedside table, to the source of the interruption. He ducks low again, making sure he’s not in your peripheral view. 

With the cellphone waiting in his hands, he studies you, sees the cogs turning in your brain as you hastily consider your options—the same ones he ran through seconds earlier:

You need to pick up the phone, because, despite your vulnerable, frazzled state, it’s late, and you can’t have your parents waking up to the ringing of every landline in the house. 

It’s the perfect catch-22. 

And people say he’s stupid. 

You fail senior year three times and it’s a thing. You pass it once and everyone forgets. Whatever—

When you pick up the handset, Eddie grins. Gotcha.

He watches you inhale deeply, attempting to calm yourself. Then you press the phone to your ear and he does the same, mirroring your movements. 

A soft sigh floats through the receiver, and the sound burrows deep into his mind, sending fractured signals down his body that leave his cock flexing. And he almost cheers at the frailness of the breath—the way he gets to watch its birth from your lust-bitten lips, the way he reaps the benefits so intimately. 

Your voice is strained and scratchy from all the open-mouthed gasps, but sweet all the same. “H-Hello?” 

Eddie grinds his teeth, biting back the eagerness creeping up his throat. “Hey, sweetheart,” he mutters, tone low and husky. 

He nearly cracks a tooth when your thighs clench. Waves of filthy thoughts race through his mind, but he has to play it cool. He has to act normal. He has to act like he’s not right outside your window, painfully hard from watching you finger-fuck yourself. 

“Eddie?” you half-whisper, brows pinching tight in confusion. “What’re you calling this late for?”

A shiver wracks through his body at the sound of his name on your lips so soon after your wandering hands went exploring. Shifting his focus from your face, he slides his gaze down your figure, zeroing in on your glistening fingers. 

Suddenly, he feels parched. 

With a gulp, he ignores your question, opting instead to spend his energy fighting the wolfish grin from seeping into his voice, and replacing it with remorseful innocence. “Sorry, did I wake you? Didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep…” 

It takes everything in him not to laugh when a look of panic sparks at your features. 

“N-No! No, um, I was just—” You lift your head up, looking around the room until your gaze fixes on something just out of his view. “Painting my nails,” you hurry, but it comes out more like a question than a statement. “So, what did you—”

“What color?” Eddie rasps curiously, biting his lip.

Your face drops, and your stuttering breaths get louder as they crackle through the receiver. “Sorry?” 

As if it has a mind of its own, his free hand hovers over the bulge in his pants, giving an experimental squeeze. He inhales sharply, quietly. His eyes close in ecstasy, but only for a split-second, before opening once more. Because he needs to see you. 

“What color are you painting your nails?” he purrs, tone dripping in a smoky desire. Though to you, it probably just sounds like dreary sleep, stuck in his throat. 

Sliding along the length of his shaft, he palms himself with precise pressure as he watches you shudder.

Your fingers toy with the waistband of your pretty panties, all frilly lace and deep violet. 

“Purple,” you sigh with a slow blink, letting your hand slip beneath the thin fabric. 

“Hm. Cute.” His hips twitch, jerking from the pleasure coiling tight in his gut. He watches as your knuckles stretch the material of your underwear once more, moving up and down a few times before starting a repetitive, concentric motion. 

The sight of you actively touching yourself to his voice has a steady stream of precum pumping out of his tip, thoroughly soaking a splotch into his boxers. Soon, he’s sure his jeans will bleed a darker shade of black. All for you. He’ll become a sticky mess, all for you.

It doesn’t help that he finds himself ruminating on how wet you must’ve gotten your fingers just now, dipping them low into your entrance and spreading the arousal up to your clit. 

Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. 

A tiny voice in his mind bellows, belligerent and questioning how he’s going to come back from this. How he’s going to look you in the eye tomorrow, now knowing what you sound like when you fall victim to your basest desires. 

But then a pitchy hum dances through the line, and he can no longer hear the voice. He watches your legs spasm as you squirm helplessly, like your hands are not enough. 

God, Eddie wishes he could help you. He nearly draws blood, biting his lip, wishing on every star in the sky that he could open this damn window. That he could enter your room and you’d only cry out for him, begging him to touch you. That you wouldn’t yell, wouldn’t scream for him to leave.

He wishes you’d moan his name right to his face. Wishes you’d peel your panties off and open your legs like a wordless invitation. You’d send that famous pout of yours his way, the one you do so well, the one that drives him crazy. The one he can’t resist. 

He’d give you exactly what you need. He’d fill you up and devour every last mewling whimper right from your parted lips. And once you let him in, he wouldn’t abandon your warm cunt for all the money in the world. At least not until he got to leave your velvety walls dripping in his cum. Leave you with a piece of him. A promise of more. A pledge of devotion. 

Eddie’s shoulders hunch, matching your convulsing movements as you struggle to remain quiet. 

“‘S it light purple or dark purple?” he questions gruffly, eager to hear your voice—to hear the strain. 

You throw your head back against the soft pillow behind you, your face crumbling in pleasure, like the right amount of lightning has struck the sensitive little bundle of nerves between your quivering thighs. “D-Dark.”

He bites back a groan, surprised his laser-focused stare hasn’t burned a hole through the glass yet. 

“Like violet?” he huffs out, his gaze refusing to leave your delicate panties, or the actions happening underneath. 

“Mhm,” you mewl, trapping your lower lip between your teeth. 

His jaw drops in awe as the spasms seem harder to control, and the silence more difficult to hold onto, with lewd moans fighting their way up your throat, crawling agonizingly slowly from deep inside you.

“Y’alright, sweets? Y’sound a little breathless,” he utters, steady and calculating—a stark contrast to the harsh, hurried grip he has on his cock. 

You nod your head fervently before remembering the phone pressed to your blazing cheek. Humming a few seconds too long, you’re unable to stop the vibrato from guiding your voice into the pits of desperation.

“Y-Yeah, ‘m fine. Just— I’m, mm-painting my toes.” Your tone jumps an octave on the last word, matching the full-body jerk that leaves you quaking. “Can’t fuckin’ breathe with my knee in my chest,” you pant, forced anger saturating every last syllable as your back arches. 

He chuckles, amused by all your fabrications. For someone who’s squirming in bed like they’re running from their own fingers, you lie surprisingly well. 

It takes everything in him not to let the moan breach his lips when he watches your hand rip from your panties, reach for the decorative throw pillow beside you, and shove it between your thighs, aiding your grinding hips. 

Quickly losing rhythm, he clings to the last shred of sanity he can find, hoping to stave off the fiery heat just a bit longer. He’s not done with you yet. 

But apparently you’re done with him, because your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body convulses rapidly before stopping suddenly, every part of you stiffening like a marble statue depicting the bowing ascent into pleasure-filled ecstasy. 

Though you’re still, it looks like calamity is bubbling just beneath the surface. One, two, three more weak ruts of your hips against the pillow seems to officially send you hurling over the edge, dragging Eddie along with you. 

Warmth blooms low in his gut and spreads across the front of his pants as his cock throbs angrily, shooting ropes of cum that are immediately stifled by the limitations of the tight fabric. His body jerks, matching your movements. Like you, his pleasure boils over, freeing him of any inhibitions. A groan tears from his chest, but you don’t hear it. Your cries drown out his noises.

“S-Shit, unh, Eddie!” 

He shudders at the way his name rides on the back of your moans, but you quickly cover for yourself.

“Sorry—fuck, I,” your hurried, huffing breaths interrupt your words, “I spilled the polish. I’m— I gotta go, Eds.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie allows himself just a bit more teasing. “Can’t wait to see your pretty nails tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

Your responding whimper is cut short when you quickly hang up the phone and flop back onto your bed, pillow still hugged tightly between your trembling thighs. For a while, you just lay there with your arm draped over your face.

Outside the window, Eddie watches your rapidly moving chest eventually even out into soft, controlled breaths. He’s about to leave—the cooling mess in his pants starting to give him the bad shivers—but right as he begins inching backward, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. 

His eyes go wide when he sees the dark patch on your panties. As you stand and make your way to the middle of the room, his eyes then practically pop out of his head when you shimmy the underwear down your legs, carelessly tossing it in the direction of your laundry basket. 

He gulps at the sight of your bare ass, vibrations rippling through flesh as you walk toward your bedroom door. But before you exit the room, you swipe a pair of panties from the top drawer of your dresser. 

Once you disappear into the dark hallway, leaving your door closed—presumably to stop any light from filtering through—Eddie snaps into action, yanking the window upward and throwing himself through. 

Tumbling to the floor with a quiet thud, his head pops up, looking over the edge of the bed, across the way at the still-shut door. With the cellphone safe in hand, he scrambles up to his feet, trying desperately to ignore the scent of you in the air. It’s partly your perfume lingering on every item in the room, partly the sweet smell of your arousal permeating the stillness of the night. 

Glancing down at the wet spot on the throw pillow, he bounces slightly, frowning in agony—it’s taking incredible restraint not to steal the stupid thing. Because fuck, he could do so much with that. He could rest his head on it, sleep peacefully to the scent of you. He could bury his face in the stain while he ruts his hips into his lumpy mattress. Hell, he could even grind his bare cock on the pillow itself.

But it’s too big of an item to steal. You’d notice. Especially because you were just using it, and for all he knows, this is a regular occurrence. This might be your special humping pillow. He doesn’t judge—he’s got his special jack-off hoodie. Actually, it’s your hoodie that you ‘lost’ a few months ago. It just barely smells like you anymore, but it still does the trick.  

Sighing, Eddie shakes his head, deciding to stick to his original plan. He hurries over toward the basket in your closet but stops short just before he arrives. There, on the ground, is the pair of panties you were wearing only moments ago. He plucks the still-warm material off the ground, holding it up to the light. 

Your juices have thoroughly soaked the fabric, and he looks inside at the gusset, nearly moaning at the glimmer of slick shining up at him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters, pumping his fist. However, right as he moves to greedily sift through more of your dirty laundry, he hears the flush of a toilet from down the hall, then the click of a door. 

His adrenaline spikes, and he speeds back across the room, cursing himself for not just blindly grabbing whatever he could get his hands on from the full basket. Slipping out the window with ease, Eddie shoves the waistband of your panties into his mouth to free one of his hands, allowing him to softly, but swiftly, shut it behind him. 

He makes quick work of descending the trellis before ever witnessing you re-enter the room. As he jogs down the street to his van, he grins victoriously. 

He may not have been able to hang out with you tonight, but he definitely got something far better. A win is a win.

A/N: Pls lmk if you liked this fic!!!! Y’all’s reactions let me know what I should do more of. Also, I’m like a dog and if you guys give me snausages (compliments), I’ll do tricks (post fics) for you. 

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She rattles off something about how your scent was the only one he’s ever reacted to, how ever since then he’d been dying to meet you. Thrown into the throes of his rut all over again, practically. Clawing at the walls. Restless.

And before you know it, the door is opening and you’re being ushered inside. Left alone. With him.

Toji’s feverish body is on you immediately.

He’s gasping you in. Gnawing on your neck. Pressing his hips against yours like he was trying to meld your two bodies together—

“Oh, pretty doll…” The straight line of his nose drag-drag-draaaags down the side of your scent glands, huffin’ in your sweetened scent. “Pretty, pretty doll.” Breath hitching, Toji pins you harder against the wall and you feel something so long and rock-fucking-hard crush up against your front. “Do you have any fucking idea how long I’ve been waitin’ for ya? I could smell you the second you stepped in the building- fuck, damn near broke down these walls to find ya myself.”

“O-oh.” Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull as you get an impression of his sheer size. Tall. Hulking. He really was a wolf hybrid through and through, tail swishing impatiently behind him. “You’re so…big.”

So swollen with need that the mere feeling of your warm body made him twitch.

And the thing is- he could smell your cute cunt getting wetter. Guttural voice whispering against your ear, “And you’re not walking outta here until you take every single inch.”

In just a few split-seconds, you’re on the bed by the corner of the room. You’re on all fours. You’re being pushed down by one of his clawed hands knobbled on top of your scalp, manhandling you.

His giddy weight hovers over you, rasping to himself. “Won’t be- hah, walking outta here at all, actually.” His abs plaster against your back as he leans over to kiss down the line of your spine. “Gonna- fuck, make you forget how to walk.” Smooch after sultry smooch. Open-mouthed. “Gonna hafta fuckin’ carry you outta here- oh, m’gonna ruin you, mama.”

You’re squealing at the top of your lungs when his fingers slither down to tear off your sticky panties. Weavin’ the fabric between his digits, he brings it up to his flared nostrils and sniffs.

A great, big whiff that makes Toji’s scarred mouth drop into a soft ‘oh.’

“F-fuck-” He’s wrenching out a primal grunt, just catching sight of your glistening hole. “Oh my-”

Cutting himself off by spitting down onto your wettened pussy, the line of saliva smacks against your slit and drips down in a puddle. 

And he wasn’t just spitting from behind - Toji was drooling. A thin line of it trickling down the side of his curved lips as he immediately spreads your sheeny thighs, immediately ruts against the folds of your cunt. 

Immediately let his thick, globular tip start swipin’ his way inside your pussy.

“Oh-oh my god…” Toji’s head falls once he starts easing inside, husky baritone breaking mid-sentence. And your toes curl at the incredible feeling of his plump, puckered tip squeezing all inside your snug entrance. Shoving inside. Bullying inside. You clench and you think he damn near shivers- “Wait o-ohhhh, go easy on me, lil’ omega.”

“Omega?” You’re questioning, “You can tell?”

“Oh fuck, I don’t even know right now, doll- just hold on- let me…” The gluey surroundings of your cunt were just sucking him up. Swallowing. Each heavy inch being slid inside—and Toji wasn’t just thrusting, he was rutting.

Just to fit inside. Just to feel more n’ more of your velvety walls sucking him up - you swear you can feel the exact moment the line of his swollen tip grazes your g-spot and Toji himself breaks.

“Oh my god- fuck, oh my god, it can feel this good?” His stern lips wobble, that sleazy smile from before nowhere to be seen now. And there’s a slight tinge of madness in his voice, one that makes his gruff tone pitch higher. 

And suddenly you’re being reminded that this was the first ever time that he’s spent his rut with anyone.

He was just so sensitive. “No- no, that should be fuckin’ illegal.” Toji grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back into his vein-covered cock. “It can’t be- it c-can’t—” 

Letting your drippin’ wet pussy sloppily sluuuuurp back into his long, long length. Toji has the audacity to swipe the pair of panties in his hands down where your syrupy wetness was smearing. Drenching it just a lil’.

Before bringing it back up to his nose and sniffing, hazy peripherals rolling to the back of his head. He spreads apart his meat thighs even further and moans out as he pushes. “Who the fuck let you hold out on me for this long, huh?”

He was going crazy. He was drilling into you like a madman.

Again and again and again. 

Not even waiting for you to adjust. Not even faltering. Heavy, half-thrusts to open up every drivelling orifice inside your cunt. To pinpoint even your tiniest hidden spots with his strawberry-red divot- fuck, it was almost like he was out of control.

So was this what it felt like to be…pussydrunk?

Toji feels you slipping away with the recoil of his jackhammers and he uses his inhuman strength to jerk you back up to him.

You’re choking out, “I wasn’t- fuck.” You’re grabbing ahold of the silken sheets, bucking your hips stupidly into his. The lewdest squelches ring out every time you do, synchronizing with your own sinful noises. “S’not my fault.”

“Then whose is it, hm?”

He moves his left hand over to spank the side of your ass cheeks, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth lolls open stupidly upon impact and he bends over to spit straight into his wide-open target. 

“Tell me- hah, tell me, little omega.” He’s tightening his hold on your throat and you yelp. Absolutely useless against the way his vein-covered girth stretches out your every nook n’ cranny, his rose-colored tip was pushing even deeper into your gooey insides. “Who let you hold out on me? Who said this pretty pussy could f-feel so good? Where the fuck have- you- been- all my life?”

“I don’t- ngh, could’ve found me sooner- ngh, then.” You’re biting back, your mind dizzy with all these questions and his thrusts. And oh, he liked that.

Having you talk back to him like that - it only made his thick length swell up even further, making your pussy let out such a carnal squelch once he finally, finally pistons towards the back of your cervix.

Slick and tight.

The probin’ push of his mushroomy tip drives deep, like he was trying to burrow into your very lungs. His globular end is driven in, in, in—all round n’ achingly hard, filling you out from the inside so much that you swear you could see stars.

Fuck, he’s gnawing down on the edge of his bottom lip and staring. Taking hefty gulps of the pheromones you were letting out each time his creamy cock pistoled back in. 

“Mmm, you’re right.” Toji snickers. And he gives the wobblin’ side of your ass cheek yet another mean swat, leaving it there for a few seconds to grope you. “You’re s-soooo fuckin’ right, mama. Always are, hm?” Oh, he was thoroughly pussydrunk - to have such a big, proud alpha admit defeat? Fuck, he might just kneel at your feet next.

You’re whimpering once his thumb reaches over to swipe down your treacly slit, pressing down on your clit. “Oh yeah? M’right after I manage to- hck! take it all?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say all…” Wouldn’t say all? In shock, you swivel your head around and catch Toji’s filthy, filthy grin. The way he was looking down at where the two of you were connected with half-lidded eyes. “There’s just a-” The hybrid crushes his toned v-line against you. “-little more.”

And that’s when you feel it.

That’s when you realize it: with Toji being a wolf hybrid, his prolonged length won’t be the only thing you have to take. You forgot about the plump, thickened knot at the base of his cock - pulsing wildly away where he kissed your pussylips with it.

Toji growls, “You’re not walkin’ outta here without carrying my pups, mama.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Jaguar

“Are you alright, my love?” The blond-haired man hushes out from above you just as soon as his thick, reddened tip manages to bulge against your cervix. Manages to bottom out. Hot and sultry. Just drippin’ with fresh wads of precum and need.

He’s running his thumb down the side of your temple, tenderly wiping away a few trickles of sweat. “Breathe in– breath- atta girl. This pretty pussy of yours feeling, mmm, alright?”

Your hips buck with a whimper once he grazes his roverin’ fingertips down your swollen slit. Teasing rolling over your sensitive clit so you’ll make those pretty, pretty noises for him once more. “Yes- hck! fuck fuck fuck, yes, Kento. You can keep moving now…”

“O-oh.” His handsome maw drops. And something in him seems to shake at the very notion. Something in him seems to crack. You watch as Nanami’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs, his throat parched. “Keep moving, darling?”

“Mhm—” You’re nodding, brows furrowing. “That is the whole point of the program, after all- isn’t it?”

NAME: NANAMI KENTO

AGE: 27

OCCUPATION: OFFICE WORKER

HYBRID TYPE: PANTHERA ONCA

You’d read his profile multiple times. You could tell from the very second you’d been escorted inside this tidy bedroom that Nanami Kento was the predatory type. The type that could break you in half. The type that could leave you without the ability to walk for weeks at a time without even trying - and yet, he was treating you like glass.

So gently.

Nanami had spent hours overstimulating your poor, bawlin’ pussy before you’d even started taking his incredible size. Spent hours tugging n’ prying apart your delicate pussylips just so that he could fit each solid inch.

His girth was so massive that the mere feeling of him bullying inside your gooey channel, molding you to him, made your toes curl. 

Your nails clawing down the expanse of his broad back as you pull him even closer to you, “C’mon Kento.” You jut out your lips into a pout, and he shivers at the sight. You’re just so sensitive. So needy that you could cry. “Don’t you wanna, ngh, breed- oh fuck!”

He’s shutting you up.

He’s roughly pulling back his powerful hips to strike the ends of your pussy with a great, heaving thud! Coating your cervix with a few stringy wads of pre, his curly blond hairs tickling your clit. 

Anything. Everything just to get you to—

“Sh-shut up—” Nanami unhinges his sharp jaw just to puff out, his clouded breath hitting your face. And then he’s gasping, then he’s realizing what he’s just said and fighting back a groan.

Slowing down the ravenous cadence of his hips to something slow n’ sensual. Nanami cups your cheek, biting down on his wobbly lower lip. “F-forgive me.” He begs, “I spoke out of turn- I- hngh, acted out of turn.” He’d just gone out of control.

The thought makes you wetter - and Nanami’s nose crinkles at the sweetness as he can smell it. “But m’not complaining, y’know?” You’re insisting, arching your hips up into his. It was just so cute that he was so considerate, but you wanted something…rough. “I wouldn’t mind if you-”

“Don’t.” He cuts you off. And you’re suddenly getting punished by a thorough few probes of his circular, wet tip against the roof of your pussy. “Don’t talk out of this pretty pussy, darling. You don’t know what m’capable of-”

“I do.” Batting your teary lashes, “I read all your profiles—promise! Did my own research, too. I just want you to- hngh, use me, Kento.”

Something in him looks like it had just snapped.

He whispers - barely even audible to you. “U-use…”

And you’re nodding furiously, slidin’ away your plush walls to meet his every thrust. Now, Nanami’s tempo had grown slightly harder, slightly out of time—slightly like his restraint on himself was slowly slipping away. So you let out the finishing blow - “Wan’ you to use me as your hngh! cumdump, please?”

Fuck, you’d even added manners.

Nanami Kento was gone.

Nanami Kento was ruined.

Nanami Kento was throwing your legs over his muscular shoulders in a second - fuck missionary, he was putting you in a damn mating press. Snapping his hips down until your capped knees hit your tits, and his globular cocktip scrapes your womb.

So hard that you swear he’s leaving nail marks on your skin, your hamstrings stretching like never before, a few of your joints popping!

With a few slurping sounds, he’s fucking his girth into with thud after thud after thud. Looong, rapid thrusts that leave you with your mouth comically ajar, spit drivelling out pathetically. Puddling. “Yes-” You whine, white-hot pleasure running through you. “Yes yes yes- just like this, Ken, ngh-”

“Ah ah-” And suddenly, one of his firm hands finds its way ‘round your throat. Blocking off your airway, “Shut up and fucking take it since you wanted to so bad.”

You’re whimpering- “But it feels so- oh.”

Only for Nanami to lunge over and sink his lengthy canines against the side of your throat, “What did I say?” He murmurs, the vibrato of his bass making your skin tremble. A stern tone. “Cumdumps don’t talk.”

Fuck. 

Again and again.

You press your lips together, trying to hold back all the broken crackles and pleas that threatened to break through each time Nanami was pummeling away his massive length. Red-hot. Ravenous. He throbbed all the way near the clingy bottom of your pussy, drenching it in so many webs of his sap.

Flooding each tight orifice inside you, forming your heart-shaped cunt around him- and then barely even letting you squirm after each recoil of his thrusts. Barely letting you bounce away.

Weighing down on you. Glissading his abs. Every time you moved, he’d tighten his arm on your throat and drag you back. 

Another one of his strong hands slides down your front - he’d been tenderly massaging your core before. Now the hybrid only pushed down where he could feel his thick cylindrical length probin’ through, feeling for himself as he fucked you.

“Oh, yes. Remember what you hah- asked for, my love- fuck, I mean…” Harder. Firmer. Nanami was pinpointing your every sweet spot with wads of precum so rudely, “-my pretty, pretty cumdump.”

You’re shrilling as he leans in with a purr to nuzzle your throat, one of his wild slams slaps your cervix so hard that you think your eyes pop out of your skull. “I-ngh, keep going like that and I’ll-” Forgetting that you weren’t supposed to speak - and if you couldn’t listen to him, he’d make you silent.

He’s spitting straight between your jabbering lips, swiping away the purposeful splatter on the edge of your lips. “Cumdumps cum quietly.”

And you’re so far gone that you aren’t just cumming with a few more vulgar strokes - you’re splashin’ out and squirting. Soaking splosh after splosh of your miry high, it sticks to his tannish skin and creates a tiny pool between your bodies.

Nanami was pistoning away oh-so-frenzily, and he expected to hold you down so that you could stay. So that you could take it.

Each n’ every one of your peaks being pounded through by his rovering cock.

Your pupils swirl maddeningly, body shaking with the twitches of your orgasm. “Mmm, didn’t know cumdumps could squirt, too.” He snickers rudely as you see stars, your vision shattered. And before you know it, he’s emptying out a few droplets of precum into your womb - you swear his twitching knot at his base only grew fatter. Oh, he was just getting started.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You’re whining up at him, with wide eyes—shit, did he say that out loud?

Nanami smiles a sleazy smile, his long canines peaking out. “M’cumdump needs to be full of cum now, doesn’t she?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Sssnake

The slithering slurps were just lecherous.

Each time after Geto slid his flexible fingers in and out of your folds, tapping the slick-glazed tips against your inner thighs. “Hmmm…that should do it. Don’t you think, gorgeous~?”

“Sh-shit-” And for just how calm, cool, n’ collected he was - you were practically shattered. Feeling the sparks of your high escape right under your nose, Geto had edged you for about the fifth time tonight. Ruthlessly. You clamor to hold onto his wrist, “You’re so mean, Sugu- fuck-”

“Oh, so you don’t want my cock?” His dark brows furrow, faux-pouting. And oh, you damn near shed a few tears at the way he’s dragging his puckered cockhead between your folds, before pulling away—“Alright, guess I can give this pretty pussy just my fingers then-”

“N-nooo—” You sob out, “Please-”

“Ssso you don’t want my fingers either, huh?” Pretending to gasp, pretending to drive you to the end of your sanity (he actually was). “Well then I can just go and tell the organizer that you’d rather have another hybrid- f-fuck.”

You’re not even thinking twice - you’re not even hesitating before you suddenly press against Geto’s toned body. Pinning him down. Straddling his naturally chiselled hips and letting your ready cunt siiiink down his fat cock.

Oh.

He was just so thick, n’ covered in so many winding veins that tickled your sensitive insides. Extra. “Oh my god- I m-meant that I want your, ngh, cock in me.” You’re blurting out, your head throwing back dazedly. “Want you all up inside- ngh.”

“Oho?” And serpentine hybrids weren’t just sly - you’re coming to find out that they knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to use their numerous snaking tendrils.

Before you know it, Geto drags his gigantic tail around your waist to pin you down to his pelvis. Human for most of his body, but his true form did peak out during times like this. “Sss’that so?” He’s humming out, grin widening. “So is it my mating season or is it yours, gorgeous?”

“Y-yours–” You mewl out, stubbornly. After all it had been you that was specifically assigned to the massive boa constrictor to help him through his season of need. His heat.

His time of year that makes him all but whimper the very instant Geto’s slick cock starts fucking in and out of you. In smooth, long thrusts - there’s so much power behind his actions that the front of your pussylips start to bruise already.

Geto’s brows furrowing as he hisses between his fangs, “Mhm, then why don’tcha act like it, hmmm–?” Hitting your g-spot dead-on, your hips move restlessly and his tail pins you down immediately. “Drippin’ so much, sucking me up like such a ssssslut.”

He’s smiling oh-so-meanly as he pokes and probes you every hidden spot. Not just your g-spot, it’s like he’s somehow mazing his vein-decorated cock everywhere. Anywhere.

Again and again.

His slimy, curved tip sticks against the edge of your cervix and makes you whine.

“Take me so well like this n’ I might just give you my second cock, gorgeous.”

Your eyes snap open, “S-second?” And without another second of hesitation, you tilt your head down and- oh, lo and behold, there was a line along the middle of Geto’s happy trail. Right where his rock-hard erection was, a second length was starting to perk upright. Two. 

Two needy shafts that filthily kissed your hole, the more you’re bouncing atop him- the closer his weeping cockhead gets. Anticipating. Eager. 

“Mhm, didn’t you know?” Geto tuts, “Serpentine hybrids tend to have double the cocks-” And suddenly, he’s swipin’ aside your puffy folds to take a gooood, long look at your clamping hole. “-double what this sssslutty pussy wants. And if you’re good- heh, I’ll give it.”

“I’ve been so good.” You beg, your hand reaching for his double shafts- only for Geto to slap it away.

“I just gave you my first and now you want my second?” He rolls his dazed amethyst eyes, “Try riding this one ngh, proper and we’ll see about-” Oh, he doesn’t even have to finish his damn sentence to have you gyratin’ your hips wildly.

With your sultry figure-eights swerving and swerving.

Faster. Harder. You arch your spine into the perfect curvature and let his textured length stir against your cute pussy. Filling out your every nook n’ cranny—“I am, see-” Spit splashes down your chin, and Geto’s forked tongue comes out to lap at it. “T-taking it- ngh, they paired me with you so that means I must be able to take a second-”

“‘Must’, hmm–?” It was just so fun to tease you. To slow his bucking hips down and watch as your trembling, needy body ruts down animalistically to chase his globed tip. “And so that means-”

“Yes-”

“-that you must take my kids, riiight?” He narrowed his greedy gaze, and you’re struck with the sudden thought - oh, mating season. Geto was going to fuck you pregnant.

He was already pounding upwards like he aimed for it. Already shoved the fat crown of his shaft to poke your womb, so hard that you’re sure to feel that soft flesh bruise. Thudding. “That you’re gonna- mmm, let me cum inside you with both my big, fat cocks.” You feel a hot splash against your outer pussy, and realize that he’s holding his matching length with one hand. Angled straight towards your entrance- “Let me fill you up until you can’t even remember your name—”

“O-oh my god-” Your pupils swirl in the whites of your eyes, feeling the circle of your cunt get stretched out maddeningly. Like elastic, he was probin’ away his honed cocktip inside. “Yes- wan’ it please, Suguru-”

“Actually-” As he slightly stalls his cadence, “-can you even remember your name? Right now?”

You don’t even care at this point. Don’t know anything but the way he was filling out your geysering orifice with such wet slurps, “I don’t know I don’t know- just want it-”

“So you can’t even remember your name?” Seething, voice pitched even higher. There was a sort of crazed glimmer in Geto’s peripherals when he realized the effect his double cocks had on your poor body. Your poor self. “C-can’t believe- hah! You seriously don’t fuckin’ remember your own name? My cocks have that much of an effect on you, hm?”

Push after push. Now he’s a solid few inches inside your velvety cunt and you think you might just cum from the sheer stretch of him. The way he was holding you down- one hand plastered on top of your sweaty scalp now.

Geto’s using his strength to force down his swollen shafts, his zig-zagged veins pliably letting him slither his way in-

“S’okay, gorgeous.” He’s finishing off once his matching tips bottom out with two matching thwacks! All the way opening up your womb- “You don’t need any other name- hah, there’s only one you need.”

“And wh-what is that—?” You shiver once his pointed fangs trace your skin, scorched breath panting out.

“My mate.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bunny!

“P-please, I’ll be good…” Choso’s broken whimpers grace your eardrums like the prettiest song, and he’s also letting off such lewd slurps any time he tap-tap-taps his red, swollen cockhead against the front of your pussy. 

So loud. So filthy. The twitchy hybrid smears aside the drops of cum that were on top of your folds, like some white glaze.

His half-lidded eyes look down at the mess he was making and he groans, feeling his mouth start to salivate at the sight. “Mmm, so delicious, baby.” Before you can respond - before you can even think - Choso has the audacity to swipe his fat thumb down your slit and dab on a bit of sap for him to suck. “Won’t you let me- hah, fill this cunt up all over again? Please?”

And oh, you’d heard of the incredible prolonged stamina that bunny rabbit hybrids have - you just didn’t expect it to be like this.

Because it’d been hours since you were led into this very room by the organizer lady. Hours since you’d first met the hybrid you were paired up with, and had him cream his poor pants simply by his first kiss with you. 

Hour since he’d first begged to put his cute, flinchin’ cock inside and fucked you like he never ever wanted to pull out.

Still rutting into you like such an animal- the slightest half-thrusts that leaves him whimpering. “P-please?” Choso whines, his handsome cheek staining with a line of tears. “Do you need me to beg on my knees again, baby?”

Your breath hitches, “I’m just wondering whether you aren’t- hah, tired yet, Cho? I’m sure it’s already ahem- taken, so to speak.”

“Oh, but we won’t know for sure now- will we?” And of course you wanted him more. Of course you still teased him. Watching his doey, brown eyes tear up, long ears flopping. “And m’not dead yet so- don’t worry, no matter how many times I cum, my cock is always- ngh, hard for you, baby.”

And he meant it.

He was slightly pulling out of your geysering hole - fuck, it almost killed him to - rutting and humping into your wettest depths wildly. He wanted to get you pregnant badly.

And as soon as you’re nodding needily for him to go on- Choso immediately perks his toned hips back n’ plunges inside your cunt once more. His ruby-red cocktip swipes aside your dewy walls, and as soon as his hulking size swivels inside, Choso groans.

He gasps.

He throws his head back and can’t stop himself from fucking cumming all over again, just from feeling your cutely heart-shaped walls. 

You squeal as you feel his hot syrup fill you out from the inside, sploshin’ against all the other wads of cum he’d left over hours prior. “Sh-shit—” You’re clawing down his pale back, sure that it was ravaged with so many lines of red by now. “See? What did I tell you, Cho-”

“And what did I tell you?” He whimpers out, tears beading in his widely-opened eyes. “No matter how- haaaaah, many times- I- cum-”

Each one of his words was punctuated by a rugged thrust. Not only was he fucking in his treacly wads of seed inside, he was also draaaagging every ridge n’ line of his shaft along your sweetest spots. Leaning in close so that he can nibble on the underside of your jaw. Whispering. “-I’ll always be hard for you, baby.”

“O-oh my god—” Your eyes sprint all the way to the back of your skull - because Choso was fast. A rapidly slamming tempo that left his own pelvis all red. Nails digging deeper. “Shit, it feels so—Cho, are you crying?”

He’s blinking back his tears. “Fuck-” So overstimulated. So rubbed raw on the channel of your cunt that he found himself hatching out sobs at the back of his throat. “I didn’t, ngh, realize…I am.”

It’s only then that Choso’s fully registering himself.

The way his back was bleeding with how hard you were latching onto him. The way he could barely focus his dilated eyes. The way that every time he harshly pistoned his cock into you, Choso’s entire body twitched with something primal.

Your pussy was so good that it’d overstimulated him to tears.

You gasp as you notice the state he was in - and he only swabs his plumpened, red tip even harder. “I don’t mind, baby, m’just a little- n-ngh, sensitive right now.” Choso reassures, and you move your hand down from his muscular back to his waist. “Promise I can still fuck you all- oh.”

Only for your trembling fingertips to graze - just graze - his fluffy bunny tail. And oh- if you thought he was sensitive before, then Choso was so sensitive there that he damn near whimpers.

“D-don’t touch me like that~” He’s whining from the back of his throat, core tensing and flexing each time he drilled forwards. Faster. Filthier. “Don’t blame me if it makes me go even harder, okay, baby?”

“Well, m’not to blame. You’re the one that insisted.” You’re biting back.

And a dopey grin spreads across his face, “I did.” It was almost like he was reminiscing just moments prior. Chasing the softness of your pussy, he veers forwards and thumps your cervix loudly. “H-heh, n’ I think I’m gonna…oh…cum again.”

“A-again?” You gasp - you just felt so damn full. Stuffed all the way to the brim, glittery wads of cum spill out of you every time he’s thrusting in. And yet- fuck, and yet Choso still wasn’t done. 

Still wasn’t letting up. Still wasn’t slowing down once he leans down to kiss your puffy lips. Your own high was nothing more than a few tingles, driving you half-mad with pleasure when you feel his glissading tip pulse against your cervix. “Did you just- oh, cream ‘round my cock?” He shallowly breathes, “Again?”

You can only nod and nod.

And Choso can only crinkle his nose in bliss, his entire body shaking viscerally when the mere notion throws him over the edge once more. 

“O-oh.” He pants out, “Gonna blame me for, ngh, cumming so much when s’your fault.” Before you know it, you feel scorched wetness flood your cunt once more. It’s all sticky, gluing your pussylips together with his ivory sap.

And Choso fucking beams as he watches the glaze of it seep out of you and drench his dark happy trail. Creating a puddle of wetness that he swipes his hand down, lovingly. 

Before reaching up and pressing on the cum-inflated bulge he was fucking into your tummy.

“Please give me a baby, baby–?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BULL

You’re stopped in your tracks just before you can open the door. 

That official-looking lady who’d accompanied you now held onto your hand, her expression of slight concern breaking the cool façade you’d been met with ever since you entered the program. She says, “I must make sure you know- you only need to give us a call, and we’ll be here in a second.”

“Yes?” You question her sudden worry.

“Oh, it’s just that-” She looks over your shoulder, as if trying to make sure that whoever was inside (the hybrid you’d been assigned to, Sukuna, you heard) couldn’t hear. “-we’ve had many candidates get paired with this particular hybrid, and all of them had broken off the pair before a match could be made. It seems he really needs help - he’s desperate with his rut.”

You’re furrowing your brows, “How come?”

She shuffles uncomfortably in front of you. “See- it’s just that this speciman seems to be a little…big.”

“Oh.”

“And rough.”

“Oh.”

“And he has certain attributes that often put him a step above other hybrids- especially ones in rut.” She explains to you, and your hand trembles on the door handle. “So, just letting you know-”

THUD-THUD-THUD!

It sounded like a storm. Like a whirlwind. Like something just broke down the polished, mahogany door in front of you - and left you dwarfed next to the towering bull hybrid you’d been paired up with. You don’t know what type he was; but he was over eight feet tall, pink hair, covered in swirlin’ black tattoos, with a massive bulge in his thin, off-white trousers.

Oh, he was in rut alright.

You look behind you- only to find that your escort had already disappeared.

And before you could register a single thing more, the hybrid- Sukuna has one of his four hands wrapped around your wrist. Tugging you inside the room. Manhandling.

All but tearing into your flimsy skirt- “Fuck.” He spits, between his clenched canines - you notice with a jolt that he had a piercing through his septum. It glimmers in the dim lighting as he huffs raggedly in and out, “Fuck- you’re gettin’ wet, aren’t ya?”

“I-I am?” You gape, affronted. 

He sniffs at your throat and snickers, “Oh yeahhh, you are. In fact-” With only a single, sharp riiiip he’s torn off your drenched panties. Absolutely gone. And he breathes in even deeper, “-yer ovulating, mama.”

You didn’t know bulls could smell that - hell, you didn’t know any hybrid could smell that.

But before you can even think of asking him anything of the sort, Sukuna has your thighs smeared apart on his meaty hips, your cunt being speared thoroughly by his thickened shaft.

Right then n’ there on the bedroom floor, he’s taking you.

His round, bludgeoning tip entering your tiny hole- the stretch of it surrounding your pussy is incredible. A sheer sting that renders your eyes closed, your mouth speechless - meanwhile Sukuna’s just jerking his hips back and pushing and pushing. “Fuh-fuuuuck!” You shrill pathetically, feeling him open up even your most hidden orifices and head straight towards your womb. “Oh- oh my god, who let you be so damn ngh- big?” 

“You’ll say—” Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrow in amusement, and he uses one of hands to flick at your swollen clit. The other two lacing on top of your scalp and tuggin’ you down roughly, “-and yet- you’re the only one to take me like this.”

“Th-the only one?” You gawk.

“The only one ta even make it this far.” He snickers, before interrupting himself with a gulping gasp of your scent. “And I’ve never smelled a human so- mmmm—” Sukuna grins and- oh, and now you’re realizing that he has two mouths. 

One on his face, the other slashed across his heavily chiselled abs. 

“-so delicious.”

Shivers run down your spine, “And what do I need to- ngh-” Your entire body felt weak with the way he was fuckin’ you oh-so-vulgarly open. Your pussylips were pried apart to the maximum, dribbling wet ribbons of slick. “-to help you through this rut of yours, then?”

“Oh, you just need to take it.” He grins, his pinkish tongue sticking between his teeth - both of them. That second cursed mouth of his salivates down your core, sticking just between your folds, pressing on your clit.

And every time you twitch with his rolling tastebuds, Sukuna can feel you clench. “Just lemme fuck you- oh, yeahhh, just like that. Never felt anything better.” He hiccups, two of his hands now move from your head and onto the sides of your waist. “Just take it alllll, lemme use this pretty pussy and- o-oh.”

Moving you. Teasing you. So much so that your entire body was starting to go limp - and it was exactly that boneless state of yours that made you rest your head down between the valley of his chest. 

Exactly what made your mouth loll open with a puddle of drool, your hands gripping his pecs and squeezing—

“Oh sh-shit.” Sukuna groans gruffly, and you don’t know what you’re more shocked by: the cracking tone of his voice, or the way that a slight pearl of whiteness beads out of Sukuna’s pecs the moment you grope them. “Look what you’ve made me- ngh, oh fuck, brat. Fuck.”

“I-is this part of your…” Without even finishing your sentence - almost as if on instinct - you’re veering your mouth over to lick at the sap trickling out of him. And—

Oh.

Oh, Ryomen Sukuna was lactating.

“You can- this is milk?” You gasp, and before he can respond, you’re trying to urge more out. Letting the sweetened ivory sap fall into your agape maw, “I didn’t know even bull hybrids could lactate, Kuna.”

“So what?”

You look up at him through your lashes, every time he’s thrashing his cock inside you, you’re sucking on his pretty pink pecs. “I like it.”

“T-tch—” Sukuna tries to sound tough - fails. Because you could already make out the way his breath shook, his flexed core tensed.

Any time your textured tastebuds sizzled on top of him, Sukuna shivered. Was forced to attempt not to close his eyes and bite down on his lips - you’d never have thought that lactating would make the big, bad hybrid putty in your hands.

He blushes all the way down from the tips of his ears, down to his honeyed pecs, down to the globular edge of his shaft. Hitting up into your soft cervix with a bang—

“I-in about nine months, you’ll be lactating, too…” He whimpers.

♡ INO TAKUMA - Puppy

“Does it feel good, pretty?” Ino’s innocent chocolate eyes sparkle, and you swear you could see from where you were that his cute tail was wagging. 

Rough thrusts being punctured by the cutest lil’ whimpers, Ino moans into your mouth just as soon as he feels you clench your heart-shaped insides ‘round him. “Ohhh, th-that means it feels good right? M’I doing a good job–?”

“Yes- yes yes yes–” You’re crying out, drunken saliva puddling on top of your pillow beside you. Each one of his roverin’ wet thrusts left your mind all emptied of thought.

And the thing is, you never even expected Ino to be this good.

NAME: INO TAKUMA

AGE: 21

OCCUPATION: UNIVERSITY STUDENT

HYBRID TYPE: CANIS LUPUS FAMILIARIS

When you’d first been notified that you were paired with a dog hybrid, you’d assumed that it would be a simple task. An easy task. They weren’t particularly apex predators, right? So how hard could it be—

That is, until you were running on the fifth round with Ino shovelling his heated cock inside you for the nth time. His silken ears drooping as he sniffs the side of your throat, trying to smell out your arousal- “So this pretty pussy’s likin’ it? Ngh, how else could I make you feel good, sweetness?”

“You’re already making me feel s-so good, Taku.” You gasp, feeling his slender fingers dip down to pinch your clit.

And just as he hears your words, Ino’s entire body perks up. Face beaming. His bulbous cock twitching at the very end, Ino drives it in even deeper against your g-spot with a damp squelch. “Oh yes? Then–” He looks down shyly, the cutest strawberry blush taking over his face. “-then could you say the special words, pretty?”

“Hmmm…” You pretend to think, “We’ll see, Taku.”

He all but whimpers.

Ah, those special words - it’d been an accidental discovery, really. The fact that Ino would be so affected by two specific words was a discovery that you hadn’t expected to stumble across during your research beforehand.

And he’s doggedly pounding his hips into yours, as if he was trying to fuck that very pet name from your mouth. “B-but I’ve been so good, don’t you think?”

As if to prove his point, Ino lightly swats your perky clit - just to show how bad he could really be.

“Now now–” Your breath hitches, thighs shivering ever-so-slightly at the sparks of bliss that suddenly explode behind your eyelids. He was drilling himself in so deep, stretchin’ out every sweet, slick-filled orifice. “-keep going like that and I won’t say it at- ngh, all.”

“Oh- please-” Don’t even mention it. Don’t even think of it. He lurches forwards to capture your lips in his, and Ino was always so sloppy with the way he kissed you.

Just letting his long, salivating tongue taste you. Ino’s lecherous sounds crack at the back of his throat, the vibrations humming along your skin. And his pretty cock just squelches out precum at the feeling, “But I’ve been so good, sweetness. Haven’t I been makin’ this pretty pussy feel all n-niiice and—” Instead of spanking your clit this time, now he’s rolling his thumb over it. Feeling the sultry wetness. “-wet, hm?”

“You have.” You tease, your face turning faux-thoughtful at the excitement in his eyes. “But I don’t know if you deserve that-”

“D-do I just need to fuck you harder, sweetness?” Ino pleads with you. And before you know it, one of his hands plaster onto the side of your hips, tuggin’ you close to him. “I can do that, y’know?”

Your brows raise, “Oh you c- oh.”

Not only is he pounding you even harder - enough that the formal bedsprings creak, enough that your vision shatters with tears - but he’s also makin’ his tempo even sloppier. Loooong, miry drags of his shaft that poke your very sweetest spots.

His blossoming red divot sticks up against the roof of your pussy and draws lil’ circles, edging towards your g-spot. “S-see? I can do harder.” He looks down at the place over your stomach, where his bulbous girth was swipin’ against your cervix. “I can also fill you up, mmm, deep inside with my ngh- cum, if you’d like?”

You swear you’re gushing out so wetly that it creates a ring of white ‘round Ino’s bulky hilt. All sappy and glistening with need.

And before you can even formulate a coherent answer inside your mind, Ino slightly raises his nose into the air and sniffs. And lets his mouth drop. His Adam’s apple swallowing. “And I can a-also smell if it’s taken, sweetness…”

“Taken?” You ogle at his words, “What do you mean-”

“You know…taken.” Ino looks at you meaningfully with this pussydrunk, half-lidded eyes of his. Every thrust of his leaves his aching knot slamming against the front of your pussy. Vicious.

“And ah- has it taken?” Asking, out of genuine curiosity - that was the entire point of the program, was it not?

“Well…” Ino elongates his throaty murmur, and for a few more strokes he lets his twitchy cock do all the talking. Smooch after smooch against the slimy door to your womb, he stirs aside the webs of cum from rounds prior. Whiffing down at your scent glands as he does- “I think just one more should n-ngh, do it.”

“Oh my—” Your mouth falls open, and you drag a hand through the tawny brown locks of Ino’s sweaty scalp. You could feel something primal building up in your stomach, in his thrusts. “Good boy.”

And there you said it.

It’d slipped out, really. Something your stupidly buzzing mind had been thinking for the last few jackhammers but hadn’t said out loud yet. 

Something that Ino Takuma himself had been dying for you to say - you’d said it.

And it’s all that Ino has to hear to shove himself all the way to his thick hilt inside your pussy and cum. Deep, deep inside - like he was aiming for his gooey white ribbons to reach the very door to your womb, and you swear you could feel it slipping ‘round like just so.

Sloshing n’ squelching every time he pulled his hips out to thrust back in- “Good boy-” Ino gasps, breathless. He was hammerin’ into you vulgarly and still managed to find the time to babble out. “You called me ‘good boy’- you called me- oh…”

You blink your vision back from its daze as Ino’s voice hitches, “Yeees–?”

And he only blinks his teary lashes, looking up at you with the most needy puppy-dog eyes while he still ruts his cock into your deepest depths. “M’your good boy, aren’t I?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Snow Leopard

The room you were led to had been sectioned off.

It had been padlocked twice.

It had you stumbling back at the ice-cold pheromones that hit you the moment that door opened - and when you looked into Gojo Satoru’s expressionless face—oh.

You weren’t making it out of here alive.

One hour later.

You still think the same- “F-fuck, ngh…” Your mouth gapes ajar, saliva sploshing down the side of your mouth every time he thrusted in. Long, vicious hammers of his ravaged cock that left you all stupid. 

Flat on your back. You looked up through your teary lashes at his flushed face, drunken eyes. “Toru, how are you- hck! still going?”

“I don’t know.” He replies, simply. And his voice is deep, his voice wavers. Sounding as if he was genuinely in disbelief as to how he hasn’t stopped yet.

Still fucking into you like a madman - you didn’t need to talk right now. Why would you need to talk?

A sudden, sharp laugh bursts out of Gojo’s puffy lips when he registers the fact that you could still form coherent sentences: he needed to fix that. Now. 

And before you know it, one of his overlarge palms clasp down on the top of your scalp and you’re being drag-drag-draaaagged back down. Down to where he was working on mazin’ his slimy wet cockhead repeatedly past your folds, pinpointing your tiniest orifices. 

Your breath hitches as you look back down to where he was pummeling you- then up to stare deeply into his glowing blue eyes.

“Enough talking.”

Three hours later.

“Oh p-please, Satoru—” You shrill out, loud enough that you’re sure the whole establishment could hear you by now. On all fours by now, with your back arched wildly into his chiselled abs.

You swear you could count all eight of them, flexing and rippling, each time his honed hips slapped into yours. Slap after slap after slap- Gojo’s crowned tip reaches for your womb and you find your legs shaking. Head falling forwards-

“Ah ah-” Your vision flashes in front of you as something firm grabs onto the back of your neck. Only a few more strokes later, you’re realizing that it was his damn bicep - curling around your neck in a headlock. “I need to scent you.”

“But you’ve been ngh- scenting me for hours already- oh.” Your words strangle up in your throat as soon as you feel yourself crashing into your high once more. For the nth time tonight. 

Every white-hot burst of your high that Gojo can practically smell on you, his feline capabilities can sense just when your orgasm has peaked. And he’s pushing his vein-covered cock in maddeningly, “And I don’t hear you complaining.” You’re startled by a sudden spank down on your clit, finding that his tail had wrapped ‘round your sheeny thighs to pull them apart. Enough for him to slap your weeping pussy- “I don’t hear her complaining.”

You gawk, your spittle creating a glazed layer on top of his biceps. “Y-you can understand- oh.” Only for him to tighten his restraint. Choking you with his beefy arms—fuck.

“Of course I can, sweetheart.” Gojo purrs out, as if it should be obvious. “M’a big cat, after all. N’ I can talk to- heh…kitties.”

“Oh.” He was utterly pussydrunk. Gone.

Barely even registering when he trickles out a few gluey wads of cum to stick upon either side of your walls, all webbed up. But he wasn’t done yet - far from it, you think you can feel Gojo’s knot at his base start to swell even bigger-

“And this kitty says that she’s not done yet.”

Seven hours later.

“Please-”

“Come back-”

“Oh—” You’re being caught steadily. The bed had long since broken, and if you thought that you were stuck in the dilemma between running away from his cock and gyratin’ back for more, more, more then Gojo was already making the choice for you.

Already pulling you back with his inhuman strength, he folds you underneath him.

You’d only had the time for a brief snack break, stocked on the bedside cabinet as if the organizers knew that this was going to happen - it was Gojo’s first time in the program, though they must have known an apex predator’s stamina.

Such incredible, incredible stamina.

You had your head against his collarbone by now, your body bent into the meanest full nelson physically possible. Gojo was bending you to his lecherous whims so easily, tugging you back so you turn your face and gnaw down on his throat. 

Whining, “P-please—” You let sobs wrack your throat, your entire body shaking sensitively as he shovels his long, solid inches into you again. And again. And again and again and again. “And she–” You might just be losing it as much as he was. “-says she’s not done still?”

“Mmm, let’s see…”

With a purr, Gojo’s powerful spock-marked tail wrenches apart your thighs. He snickers after one of his hands comes down to leave a solid spank!

So hard that glittering specks of slick n’ cum splatter all over your thighs. And Gojo himself finds his breath catching at the lewd sight of it- “Not yet.”

“F-fuck…” Your mouth lolls open stupidly in a silent scream - at least, you think it was silent. Because just then Gojo pulls out his entire girth to fuck back into you deeper, and it lets out the most deafening slurp. “But what if it doesn’t fi-”

“Shhh, sweetheart.” He already knew what you were going to say: that his generous helpings of cum might not fit anymore. And you didn’t need to think about that - you didn’t need to even imagine that.

What do you mean it might not fit? Hah! As if—“This kitty tells me that sh-she can take, ngh- one more.” You could practically hear the grin in his raspy tone, “In fact, she tells me she can take my knot.”

Your eyes bulge open, “That- what?”

And he’s only nodding along - not to you, but to the sultry sounds your pussy was making. As if he was in conversation with your slick-glazed pussylips. “Mhm, my knot, sweetheart.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pants, “Haaah—get ready.”

It’s the only warning you get.

Before you know it, your toes curl with such an incredible stretch.

A stinging sensation that burns all the way from your parted thighs and up your spine- you wriggle your body around, and Gojo pulls you back using his trusty headlock once more. “C’mon-” He whispers between his prolonged canines, “C’mon c’mon c’mon-”

“Shiiiit—” You trill, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as he uses his other hand to pry apart your sticky folds. Plugging a finger in to swivel inside n’ fit his swollen knot, “It’s so big- it’s so- oh my-”

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, biiiig stretch, ain’t it?” Gojo chuckles darkly, and you’re completely pinned down while he eases inside. “Say it w’me now, m’gonna make it fit. Hah, biiiig—”

“S-stretch-” You mutter out thickly. Your head throws back with every slight centimeter of circumference he’s managing to squeeze inside. Bullying inside. “S’a big- stretch- ngh-”

“That’s it, that’s it- big stretch.”

Gojo’s just so thick that it takes you more than a few aggressive strokes to finally shove his hefty knot inside with a wettened plop! It fits in so deeply, molding your tight walls - you swear he’s so plump there that you can count each throb of his pulsations.

“Count- can you?” He’s humming after you and oh- did you say that out loud? Slowly, sensually, Gojo starts to grind his wads of cum inside. 

Primally. 

While you’re stupid on the stretch, he finishes off - “Let’s see if you can count how many kits I fuck into ya, sweetheart.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Hawk <3

“Oh, honey…” Higuruma puffs out breathily from between your legs, his slick tongue lapping up n’ down your slit at a frenzied pace. “Oh, angel- oh, sugar- oh.”

“Please, Hiromi—” Your thighs shake from either side of his handsome face, where he made sure that you were practically glued to him. Your cunt sliding down his mouth, his hooked nose. “I wan’ you…hck.”

“Think she’s all ready f’me again?” One of his large hands comes up to pat your ass cheeks, tenderly- though his mouth was the complete opposite.

Shoving straight between your puffy pussylips to dig against the side of your orifice. It’s only once you’re all clean from the wads of cum stuck to you that Higuruma actually moves from underneath. His dark locks tickling the side of your thighs, “Now, turn ‘round and bend over f’me, angel?”

And the voice he’s saying it in isn’t even particularly stern - but you’re clamoring to listen to him in an instant.

Oh, a hawk hybrid: one of those rare types that you were honestly lucky to be paired up with.

But, the thing about being with such a highly endangered species (especially during his peak, his rut) was that their primal instincts told them to breed. And they were going to breed. Right now.

Smack!

“Pay attention, angel.” Higuruma doesn’t even apologize for the hand he has swatted to the side of your hips. Holding you still as he quickly swipes his ruby-red crown down your slit a few times, gathering the beads of slick that drip out of you. “You hafta pay attention when m’fuckin’ you all full of my- hah, kids, alright?”

You whine, your teary lashes fluttering- “Y-yes I- oh!”

Yet another smack!

“Ah ah, what did I tell you?” You can’t reply - he doesn’t let you. Because in an instant, Higuruma’s proud girth starts pushing in. Probing.

He’s so thick that he has to spread his meaty thighs and fuck upwards to help squeeze his split-ended tip inside. Like a spotlight, he mazes his lengthy cock inside- “Hafta what?” You feel his scalding breath puff out from behind you, and it takes you a few more half-ruts to realize that he was talking to you. “You have to what now, angel?”

“Pay attention-” You’re fisting at the sheets.

“Exactly.” And Higuruma’s swollen cock twitches just a little bit hearing you say the correct answer. “Pay attention f’me while I breed you- ngh, okay, sugar?”

“Y-yes, sir-” 

Oh, it slips out without you even realizing. Without you even wanting to.

You honestly don’t know where it even came from (perhaps from your slight research about hawk hybrids beforehand? Perhaps from the whole official-feeling vibe of the building? Perhaps just from him?)

But Higuruma certainly wasn’t complaining. In fact, just the mere sound of your addressal makes him arch his back, throw his head, and it makes his powerful wings twitch.

Attached to his muscular shoulder blades, there’s a sudden whooshing sound as they suddenly flare out. Wingspan so wide that they touch either side of the dimly-lit room, and even Higuruma’s aching cock jolts.

Flinches.

Spurting out a translucent wad of pre that slickly slides down to your womb- “Y-you can’t-” Immediately, he clears his throat but it’s no use - you already hear the way that Higuruma’s voice just cracked at the very tail end of his sentence. “You can’t just call me- oh.”

“Yes, Hiromi?” Looking behind your shoulder, with those pretty eyes and that pretty voice. Honestly, he can’t handle it.

And your face is suddenly being forced forwards by one hand ‘round your neck. A headlock. 

Used solely to keep you in place, he’s drilling into you from behind like a madman, the feathery ends of his wings jolting. His thick thighs shaking. Plastering every veiny inch of his cock alllll the way inside- “S’all your fuckin’ fault.” And you don’t know whether he’s talking about the way his length was pummeling even harder, or whether his wings seemed to be oversensitive. Flapping wildly. “That m’like th-this- fuck! Why do I feel like m’going so- ngh, out of control…” 

Almost as if he’s babbling to himself.

Bit bit bit, probe by probe. His plump cock fits into even your smallest orifices, filling you up from the inside out and making you keen. “S’not my fault-”

“Of course, s’not- just you and this hngh-” He grits his teeth, nose sliding down the column of your throat so he can bask in your scent. “-pretty pussy, and this preeeetty scent and- and…”

“Yes?” You question, as he trails off.

And it takes a few more pressurized pushes before the stern man can finally answer, almost shyly. “-call me that again. Please, sugar?”

Oh, he was asking so nicely. So how could you possibly say no?

“Please- I want you to c-cum inside–” You swerve your peaking eyes around, eyes wet with tears. Just the mere sight itself - just those words already - enough to make Higuruma slam his riding hips, so hard that it almost hurts. “-sir?”

You feel something flutter. Something flap.

Before you’re crashing into your high, and Higuruma is right behind you - pour after stringy pour of cum. Clinging down from the edge of your cervix all the way down your folds, it formulates the cutest white ring that he takes such pleasure in smearin’ on your flesh.

Your toes curl, and you buck your hips back at a steady pace to meet his oncoming thrusts. Perfectly timed with every high mountain of your high, he fucks you oh-so-perfectly through your bliss.

Thinking that that melody of your moans was the prettiest fuckin’ thing he’s ever heard. “Oh my g-god—” Higuruma’s struggling to catch his breath, you left him shaking. “M’gonna hafta find a way for you to pay for this- fuck.”

“But you asked—” You whine in righteousness, blinking back the tears in your eyes once most of the haze has dissipated. And you’re seeing—all brown?

A glossy, dark brown that was practically black in some lighting. It’s soon after that you realize that Higuruma’s wings had been protectively encircling the two of you right as you hit your orgasms, like a curtain of long feathers.

He shivers n’ grunts as he pulls his wings back- honestly, it’s like they couldn’t be apart from you.

“Hawks are protective of their nest, you see.” He gruffs out, by way of explanation. Still trickling in gooey wet wads- “Especially of things that should be in their nest.”

Be in–

“Like you.”

A/N. Hope you enjoyed your stay in the program!

Your eyes flick from the amused guard to your new ‘friend’ who gets one last pull-up in before dropping two socked feet to the ground with a grunt. You swear the fucking ground rumbles. He turns towards you and your knees wobble as his shadow over takes you.

Red eyes. Half of his face is mutilated, marred by a fire from long ago, you can surmise. His face tattoos match his body. He’s tall, you wouldn’t even be able to reach the height of his makeshift pull-up bar on the tips of your toes.

You stiffen as he sizes you up like the other inmates did on your way in. You hope you wrapped your chest tight enough. A woman in an all male prison? Not a good idea for too many reasons.

“Hi—” you clear your throat of the high pitched tone, adopting a fake, deeper one, “Hey, bro. It’s uh— cool to meet you— or whatever.”

You could slap yourself. Who are you kidding? You don’t know how to talk like a guy. You should have told Gojo ‘No, no amount of money would make me spend a year in a male prison.’ You shouldn’t have drank so much and stupidly agreed that night at the bar, because now, the best case scenario here is that the guard takes you away and they throw the real you into a women’s prison for trying to ‘fool the system.’

The man takes a step forward, and you’re already tensing for a blow— but he just shoulder checks you on the way out. You stumble a little, immediately going to rub your shoulder.

The guard looks properly amused, holding back a laugh. “Here,” he kicks off the wall, pushing some supplies into your arms. Another guard must have handed these over to him as you greeted your cellmate.

“Have fun,” he makes his brows jump and moseys away.

You deeply exhale through the nerves in your chest, walking towards your bed, if you can even call it that. You drop the supplies onto the thin mattress. Sheets, blanket, toothbrush, etc.

You’ve never been one to pray, but you’re considering it right about now. You shake your head and give yourself something to do: put on your sheets, organize the few toiletries you have on your desk.

After fifteen minutes, some kind of bell rings through the prison and you watch inmates filter out of their cells.

You stand and lean out of the cell curiously. You catch one of them muttering about ‘green beans’ and you realize it’s dinner time.

You enter the crowded mess hall and you’re immediately overwhelmed, clattering trays and chaos. The smell of old meatloaf and sweaty man fills the room.

You keep your head down as you get in line, adopting a slight slouch in hopes to avoid accidental eye contact that could be perceived as a threat. The second you’re pulled into something like a violent altercation, you’ll likely be exposed as a woman quite fast.

Dinner is slop with a side of slop on a metal tray, and you’re realizing why Gojo wanted to avoid this place so adamantly. A fucking paid vacation, he’d said.

You scan the mess hall with the tray in your hands, heart racing.

You spot two guards leaning against the entrance, watching you with amusement— like they’re waiting to see what happens to you, who will pick the runt of the litter. You’re the entertainment. You must look like a little meek boy, shaking in your boots.

It’s packed. Big men in little stools. It reminds you of highschool clicks but worse. You spot your pink haired cellmate, sat alone at the only empty table, but one mean glance up with those red eyes and you’re searching elsewhere.

“Who do we have here?” A deep voice sings as a heavy arm drops around your shoulders.

You glance up at him to see a blue haired man with scars all over his body, like he’d previously had poorly done stitches. He smiles at you with dead eyes.

Some of his friends surround the two of you, bored and idle— but their bulky presence only makes you nervous.

“Need somewhere to sit?” he hums tauntingly, tilting his head down to your level. “My name’s Mahito.”

“Oh, I—”

“Shhh little pet, I’ve got you now. I’ll take you under my wing! You don’t even have to thank me or anything.” His smile makes your spine tense with chills as he moves to stand in front of you.

Do you have another choice? You’re afraid of offending him and his scary friends if you decline.

Mahito continues, as if your acceptance is a given. “Let’s just get some things straight before—”

He’s interrupted by a large fist slamming into his jaw, knocking him right off his feet and onto his ass. Your hands tense around your tray, eyes wide as your gaze snaps to see who just punched Mahito into a limp, dream state.

It’s your pink haired cellmate, looking down at his victim while ringing out his fist like it’s just another Tuesday.

Fights must be common around here, because when you look around, no one seems surprised. Most of the men just mind their business and continue eating their food. Even the two guards are whistling, turning the other cheek.

You gulp. Mahito’s friends don’t even try to defend him, they just back away— like hyenas in the presence of a lion. You hear one of them mutter a name, ‘Sukuna.’

You wonder if anyone is even going to bring Mahito to the infirmary, but when Sukuna’s roaming gaze sweeps over you, all thoughts freeze in fear.

You hold his gaze a beat too long, unsure, until you see a flicker in his expression, a subtle tightening of the corner of his eyes. In a breath, you fold inward, chin dipping down to your chest in retreat.

He breaks the tension first, adjusting his neck as he turns away. He settles back into his seat with his meal, relaxed and borderline bored.

You have no clue what his intentions are, or what saving you signifies. Regardless, you’re relived to not sit with Mahito.

With no other option, you inch your way over to the only empty table where Sukuna sits. He remains focused on his food, ignoring your presence completely as you sit as far away as possible— on the literal side edge of the seat.

You cautiously take a bite, peeking at him defensively, but he remains indifferent.

__________________

Lights out, 9:10 pm.

You lay in your uncomfortable little bed, staring at the dirty ceiling. The cell door clanged shut at exactly 9 pm and when the guard made his final round, flashlight shining through the corridor— he passed by with a slow, deliberate glance followed by a wink that made you feel uncomfortable.

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning for 10 minutes. You shift on your side, unable to lay in one position for longer than two minutes due to this stone of a mattress.

“Quit. Moving.”

You freeze at the demand coming from your cellmate, who probably hasn’t been able to sleep with all of your loud movement.

“Sorry,” you chirp quietly, pressing your lips together between your teeth.

He exhales, deeply. You peek at him and he’s facing the opposite wall, naked back towards you.

You don’t know prison etiquette, are you meant to do something specific if someone saves you from a group of scary individuals like he did earlier? Maybe give him half of your lunch from now on or he’ll take you into the back and beat the teeth out of you?

“Um,” you whisper, practicing your ‘boy’ voice.

You feel the energy in the room shift, like when you were a child sharing a bunk with your sibling and you’d start spouting nonsense to each other after 3am.

“Thank you.”

You feel relief when a silent moment passes, maybe he’s asleep and didn’t hear you, because now that you’ve actually said it, you regret it. How stupid and naive could you be? You reckon gratitude like this may not apply in prison.

He grunts as he adjusts his position, and you cringe at the ceiling, subtly inching your thin blanket up to your chin. Oh. He definitely heard you.

You nod off after too many minutes of silence and you wake in the morning to the sound of the breakfast bell. You all but squeal opening your eyes to see your sweaty cellmate looming over your bed.

You quickly clear your throat, sitting up and glancing around at your surroundings. You kick your ‘boy’ voice up, trying to recover from your girly scream. “Morning.”

He throws a small towel over his shoulder and walks off, unbothered by the strangeness of standing over someone’s bed before they’ve even awoken.

Your breast wraps are still in tact when you peek down under your shirt, so you don’t think he saw anything he wasn’t supposed to.

Breakfast is uneventful, thankfully. Mahito, who has fresh dark bruises along his face, doesn’t even look your way. You sit alone at Sukuna’s table, the same acceptable distance as before.

Things are just okay, you think.

That is, apart from the whole using the bathroom thing. You’ve been putting it off. But, it’s unavoidable.

After breakfast, you peek into your cell where the shared toilet is, only to see Sukuna casually reading a scroll with one hand and doing one armed push ups with the other. The image of using the toilet in here makes your face sour. That’d be a type of humiliation you’d rather avoid, and that’s not even accounting for keeping your gender a secret.

Instead, you settle for the shared bathrooms connected to the showers in one large tiled, communal room.

Standing in front of the toilet stall, you curse Gojo’s entire family line. Because of course the stalls don’t have doors. Somewhere far away, Gojo suddenly feels shivers race down his spine in the middle of his little mochi date.

Apart from the unsettling experience of using the bathroom surrounded by large men shaving and brushing their teeth, you overheard interesting information as you did your business. You had to translate male prison gossip lingo, but apparently Sukuna and Mahito’s little altercation yesterday wasn’t random.

They have history. Something about ‘daring to touching his soul’ — whatever that means. You think soul is code for a drug supply, maybe.

Yesterday’s incident was a ‘checking’ as your fellow inmates say. Mahito was trying to force you, someone weak and new, into his group, which made him look strong among the lower ranks. But when Sukuna stepped in, punching his lights out in front of everyone, it was a show of power.

Mahito dominates people like you, small and submissive by nature, to stay on top, but Sukuna operates on a whole nother level. In that simple act, he showed everyone that you’re on the bottom, people like Mahito are in the middle, and Sukuna reigns on top.

You’re already cringing at your naivety thanking him last night, like he was some knight in shining armor.

Once you get back to your cell, Sukuna’s still reading, this time, sat on his bed all glistening with sweat having finished his workout.

You ignore your nerves walking past him to sit on your own bed with your back against the wall.

You’d scored a notebook and pen from the recreation room, and begin idly drawing the time away. Seeing how he’s the only thing there is to draw in this place, you start sketching Sukuna’s profile.

His nose is particularly a unique shape, reminiscent of the Greek God statues. You glance up for the millionth time to get the particular slope of his bridge committed to memory, and startle to see him looking back at you with a glare.

You slouch into yourself, your face growing hot having been caught staring and you force your eyes back down.

“You keep thinking you’re allowed to do that.”

Your heart rate kicks up at his scary gravelly tone, like a demon having come back to life in the form of his vocal cords. You naively thought he didn’t notice your glances, since he never even spared you a look.

“Sorry,” you mutter quietly.

“Look at me,” he demands in a way that you wouldn’t dare consider disobeying. Fuck. You were hoping he’d just let it be.

You clench your eyes shut for a brief moment, squeezing your pen in your palm before slowly sitting up and peering at him.

“Pitiful. Truly.” He scoffs, looking at your entire form with disgust. “Do you have no honor? Stand.”

You hesitate, gaze flicking, feeling like you’re playing a game of simon says.

“I said,” his tone rumbles as he moves to sit at the edge of his bed, chin resting on his fist, “stand.”

A passing inmate side eyes your open cell, but he minds his business as if it holds a sleeping monster within.

You gently toss your notebook to the side and your brows twitch as you push yourself up to stand, socked feet meeting the cold floor.

You aren’t even sure if you’re meant to be looking at him still, gaze uncertain.

“Now kneel.”

A flashback of how hard Sukuna’s fist met the bone of Mahito’s jaw makes you slowly bend and drop to your knees.

You spot a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes before a judgmental expression takes over, like your obedience is simultaneously sickening and mandatory to him.

“You hold your head quite high,” he hints at your lack of respect, and if putting your forehead on the dirty floor is all he makes you do for disrespectfully staring, you’d probably be lucky.

Your brows pinch in a pout, grossed out with the prospect of it but still, you inch your head down.

“Good,” he drawls the word out with a whispery rasp, “Go on. All the way down.”

Once you’re in a fully seated bow, like a servant in the old ages, he exhales slow and deep. Cathartically.

A long moment passes with his red eyes on the back of your head. The floor smells like dirt and a trace of bleach. You’re completely vulnerable in his position, with the back of your neck exposed and blinded.

Honestly, you’re wondering if Sukuna is still there. It’s so quiet, all you can hear is the subtle mumble of the others outside of the cell in the main area and the tick of the clock.

You prepare to speak by taking in a small breath, and that’s all it takes for Sukuna to snap at you.

“Did I say you could speak?”

You gulp.

“You’re new,” he complains, “The next time you disobey me, you won’t enjoy what I do.”

You hear the bed creak from him standing, but he doesn’t take a step in any direction. Just stands above you.

“Lick the floor.”

Your lips part in shock, blinking at the floor in confusion. You can’t even begin to imagine the disgusting things that line this floor after decades of men coming in and out. You’ve seen the guy who cleans the floors, he’s blind— literally. Humiliation is the only benefit to making someone do something like this, to knock them back into their place. You don’t have another choice.

“Show me,” he snaps, making you flinch. “Your tongue.”

Fuck this place, you obey. Slip your tongue out and slide it against the floor, eyes clenched shut to cope with the taste of everything horrible and bitter.

Pushing your palms to the floor, you lift your head, giving him the pathetic display of your twitching tongue.

The light above halo’s his pink head like a dark angel, and you see his lips curl into a diabolical smile. Pleased with your submission.

He squats, lining his mouth to your ear— not touching, but close enough to hear. “The hell are you looking at?”

Your eyes clench shut as fast as his words come out and you almost flinch when you feel the tip of his finger brush against your clavicle. Your breast wrap is right there—not impossibly close, but too close for comfort. It’s like he’s bringing attention to how frail your bones are, brushing the bone so lightly.

“Speak.”

“You— I’m sorry,” is all you know to spit out around the taste of the bitter floor in your mouth.

He tuts like your answer is just average, a boring C- at best. It seems to be all you know how to say, that and thank you.

“I don’t want trouble— I didn’t know I couldn’t look at you,” you stupidly explain.

“Have a little crush on me?”

You gulp, shaking your head. “N-No.”

He stands. “Why are you here?”

“Because you told me to—” your uncertain gaze flicks around his face but never connects to his eyes.

He interrupts you, repeating himself in a rougher tone, “Why are you here?”

You realize he’s asking why you were locked up.

“Speak. My impatience is not passive you’ll soon find out,” he snaps at you when you don’t immediately answer.

“I— I lost a bet. I needed money.” Technically not a lie, but you can see how your words imply that you robbed someone or something.

He uses a socked foot to nudge at your tummy, and you tense, praying he doesn’t lift it or lower it in either direction.

You’re bracing for a kick, a shove, something. Instead, he simply runs his foot down your abdomen until his toes brush the clothed skin above your pussy. You shiver in anticipated worry, looking up at him through your lashes like he’s a god given the right to deciding your fate.

Just when you think this is it, he’s going to push just an inch lower and notice your lack of dick— he loudly sniffles and walks out like nothing happened.

________________

Later, 11:25 am.

Your one reprieve after your humiliating morning is the library. Everyone has a job in prison— a 0.25$ paying job— but it’s better than nothing. You’d been lucky to land a job sorting books. Pushing a little cart around, organizing the collection of educational texts, self-help, religious, even things like the hunger games— it was nice.

That is, until your heart drops down to your ass when Sukuna pushes you against the shelf, chest pressing into your back.

You gasp, dropping the book in your grasp. Your mind immediately flicks to movies you’ve seen, involving a homemade shiv and a lot of blood, people who have nothing to lose and kill just for the hell of it. You’re an easy target too, smaller than the rest.

“You’re welcome,” he says casually into your ear. He’s not even pushing into you in an overtly sexual manner, just pinning you to the shelves.

You knew he was awake last night. But, he definitely didn’t intentionally protect you from Mahito, no, it had nothing to do with you. He’s taunting you.

You let out a shaky breath, daring to speak just above a whisper. “F—for what?”

“This is how it’s going to work,” he explains, hard hand gripping the back of your neck, “I’m going to fuck your ass, use you until that gratitude dries up and in return— no one will touch you.”

Oh shit. Your face pales. He’s explaining the concept of being a ‘bitch’ to you because it’s your first time in prison. Was it that obvious? (Yes.)

You let out a fearful whine under your breath, so quiet, but being so close, he hears it.

“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted to thank me,” he mocks you, hot breath fanning your ear. Maybe in another universe, you’d beg the domineering man fuck you— as you. But if you want your gender to remain a secret in here, you have no choice but to get out of this.

“I— but,” You grip the shelf harshly, thinking of any excuse, “I’m a virgin!”

A pause. Did that actually work? You’re not an actual virgin, but you’ve never done anal— technically not a lie.

Your bated breath halts when he lets out a boisterous laugh. “Oh?” he drawls like a king on a throne.

You can almost guarantee he feels your heart thumping through your fucking back.

“You’re just a hole. Meant for use. Doesn’t matter to me, I truly don’t care.”

“I— please, I can’t do that for you. I want to— I really want to! But I can’t,” you breathe, hoping you haven’t offended his ego— which you assume is larger than this building. You want to be able to say yes, just so that you don’t have a target on your back.

“Tch,” he clicks in distaste, “I won’t injure you. Is that enough to address your concerns?” You think he mutters a ‘loser’ under his breath but you aren’t sure.

The fact that he’s even trying to quell your fears is surprising, and gives you a spec of hope. It also allows you to consider the idea of what his protection in exchange would mean. Everyone clearly fears Sukuna, you’d get through this year untouched— aside from the obvious.

“Uh—uhm,” you gulp, side glancing back at him as much as his grip will allow. “I’m insecure about uh.. my dick.”

His brows lower into a furrow, looking at you with judgement. “Fine,” he rolls his eyes, “your little cock won’t come out of its confines. Satisfied?”

Are you actually going to do this? Can you even pull this off? The fact that this man even wants to fuck you in the first place is completely out of the blue. You knew things like this happened in here, but from this guy?

You shift. “Why do you want this— with me?”

“I’m not gay,” he scoffs, “Fool. I simply need a flesh light.”

“Oh, and,” he pushes his nose into your head, behind your ear, and sniffs, “you smell nice, like a woman.”

You shiver. It’s horrifying that he can actually smell that on you without knowing it.

“Deal?”

You clench your eyes shut and nod.

He finally pushes off of you and mutters a ‘good’ before walking away and out of the library.

___________

You’ve never been one for the concept of anal. You’d glare whenever a boyfriend would even bring it up. It’s always felt inconsiderate, like you’re just being used when a more pleasurable hole is right there. You’re kind of nervous, but part of you is relieved.

Since you made the deal, Sukuna has ‘claimed’ you. He makes you grab his meals for him, sit across from him in the cafeteria, visible signs of ownership. The other inmates avoid you completely; even a minor bump into your shoulder in passing earns an apology. You’re his now, and everyone knows it. Off limits.

As for your end of the deal, you aren’t sure when Sukuna is going to be in the mood to fuck. You’ve been stealing peeks at him, watching too closely, hoping for a signal, but Sukuna noticed. After that time you practically jumped when he stood up from his bed, he gave you a glare that made your knees weak. Instead, you’ve decided to just wait for him to tell you when he’s ready.

A few days after your library talk, Sukuna finally gives you the signal.

It’s morning, and you wake to see him hovering over your bed once again.

You startle, sitting up quickly as you rub your eyes. “Wh— what happened?”

He tosses you a little bag of chips, the type you can only get from the confectionery, and your brows furrow down at it.

“Um,” you glance at him, unsure, “thank you.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.

“Library, 12 pm. There’s a spot with no cameras in the back.”

Your eyes flicker in recognition, and your heart races as you nod. “Okay, I’ll— um— I’ll be there. That’s great. Sounds good.”

He deadpans at your pathetic attempt at speaking and walks off.

You can’t help but feel a weird affection placing the bag of chips under your bed, rolling your eyes at yourself. It’s a bag of chips, and you have more to worry about than catching feelings for this guy.

You have to prep.

The communal showers are sectioned by half walls and curtains. You’ve been able to shower, dry yourself, wrap your breasts, and get dressed all inside of the little shower section without anyone seeing your important body parts since you’ve been here. Still, you’d rather some privacy as you do what needs to be done today.

Thankfully, it’s empty when you check the showers while breakfast is taking place.

You stand there naked under the water, toes curling in nerves as you slowly bring the empty bottle up to fill it with water. A homemade douche. It’s mildly humiliating shooting water up your ass but it’s a necessary evil.

About a few hours later, you’re sorting books like your job entails, while anxiously glancing at the door and wall clock every two minutes with anticipation.

At 12:03 he pushes the door open, and you immediately turn your head back to face the shelves.

You hear him snap at the only person reading at a table, forcing them to leave. Your heart races when you hear him lock the entrance door behind them.

You stupidly pretend you’re deciding which shelf the book in your hands belongs on as his heavy footsteps close the distance between you.

He settles right beside you and you peek up at him.

“Come.” He nods his head, gesturing you to follow as he turns and leads you to the last isle, all the way to the back of the room.

“Right here?” You glance at the camera in the corner.

“Right here.”

You gasp when he grabs your hips and manhandles you over to the very corner of the isle, pressed into the shelf with your back to him. “It’s a blind spot.”

“Okay,” you lick your lips nervously, fumbling with the hem of your sweatpants. “I— how do we— should I just—?”

He squeezes his big hands over your shaky ones, stopping you. “Relax,” he snaps. “Ass fucking is not that difficult. It’ll be a lot easier for you than it is for women.”

You gulp at that, his (rude) reassurance means nothing considering the obvious.

He swats your hands away and you squeak when he pulls your sweatpants down enough to expose your ass to the chilly air.

You curiously glance back when you hear a click of a cap opening. He squirts an ungodly amount of lube into his palm and tosses it aside. (How did he even obtain lube in here?)

“Pretty fucking ass,” he says as if it’s an insult, using one hand to spread your cheek and slide a glob onto your hole with two fingers.

You cringe at the cold feeling of the gel as he rubs your hole, anticipating him shoving his finger in there.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you say wearily, “right?”

He rolls his eyes, using his middle finger to push at the resistance of the rim.

You gasp when it pops in. He slowly massages your insides in a manner to loosen the very edges, preparing the most taught of the muscles to stretch. It’s more weird than uncomfortable feeling something wiggling around in there.

“You’re lucky I’m doing this,” he rasps, “Virgin.”

“Thank you,” you squeak. He uses his free hand to shove your hips out a bit more.

He whispers as he pulls his finger out, “How’s it feel knowing you’re about to get fucked in the ass? Feel the shame yet?”

You gulp and clench your eyes shut when you catch a glimpse of his hefty cock being pulled out of his sweats. A large, scary winding vein catches your eye.

“Slow,” you chirp as he presses the tip to your ass, “please go slow.”

He notches his chin over your head, wrapping one arm around your tummy to push your back into his chest and grunts, “I will.”

His large body envelops you, like a hard hug. If it weren’t for his tip forcing your asshole to open up, you’d probably enjoy being held by a big man like this.

You hiss, unable to keep your hands from snapping back and digging your nails into his hips. The intrusion is uncomfortable, so odd and unnatural to have something this big pushing into your backside.

He doesn’t seem to mind your nails, undulating the tip around in circles within the very inside so you can get used to the feeling.

“That’s it,” he drawls, “open up.”

You let out a high-pitched whine and your ‘boy’ persona is thrown out of the window, completely irrelevant as he inches the rest of it in. He’s fully seated.

“Okay, okay,” you gasp, frantically tapping his hip and toned back, “don’t move yet.”

He exhales deeply, like he feels relaxed having finally mounted a warm hole. His warm huffs of breath calm you as they steadily fan the side of your head.

“Tick tock,” he hums after a minute of your hole pulsing around him in attempt to cope with the intrusion. “It will hurt less if I move.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, shaky hands moving to brace against the shelves. “Okay, fine.”

“Good.” He wraps one hand roughly around your mouth and his other arm holds your midsection taut to his front.

You squeal behind his hand when he pulls out and barrels back in with one hard rut. It hurts, but somehow, his large dick has reached your g-spot through your ass. You likely have a bulge in your tummy from the way his tip is angled to push down against your vaginal canal through the back door.

“Ahhh.” He tilts his head and rumbles an exhales right into your ear, like he’s dipping into a nice, warm hot-spring.

It doesn’t take long for him to set a rhythm, rocking his hips in short, hard thrusts. The contact of your cheeks meeting his hips creates a loud ‘plap,’ bouncing off the books in lewd repetition. His harsh breaths are the most you receive from him in terms of vocalized pleasure, but sometimes he offers a grunt.

Your feet shuffle with every hit, toes barely touching the ground as his strong hold keeps you up in the air like you’re just a human sized flesh light. He’s using you, and you can’t deny his incidental abuse of your g-spot feels good.

“You moan like a fuckin girl,” he hisses into your ear as he pounds your ass.

You can only moan under his palm, confirming his what he thinks is an insult. The jackhammering is short and mean, barely a few inches of his base exiting your puckering hole before stuffing it back inside.

“This ass is mine,” he grunts as your clit throbs with need, “Pathetic fuck. Letting a guy bend you over.”

Your legs shake as he grows frantic and mean, putting horrifying strength behind each thrust. You’re fucking like bunnies, your body frantically jostles up and down and you’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for how he’s completely dominating you. A few books fall right off of the shelf and clatter to the carpeted floor with the force of it all. You wonder if he’s fucking you this hard because he thinks you’re a man, that you can and should be able to handle it.

You exhale sharply out of your nose, eyes clenched shut as you take his last few slams.

“Fuck!” He grunts, throwing his head back as his grip on you grows so harsh you’ll have bruises on your waist later. You feel his dick pulse as he dumps his load as deep as he can go into your ass, keeping his hips still against your irritated asscheeks.

Finally he sighs as he slides out, making your hole clench shut the second the intrusion is gone.

You practically stumble for balance as he lets you go, knees buckling. Pussy dripping and confused while your ass aches.

You want to just collapse right here, take a much needed rest, but you can’t risk an accidental flash of your pussy. You pull your sweatpants up, out of breath.

He tucks his dick back in, glancing down at you with a glow of physical relief on his face. “You took me well,” he licks his top teeth, tilting his head. “Did you enjoy getting your cherry popped?”

That was almost a compliment. Your insides are still screaming for an orgasm and a break simultaneously. You feel your face rise in temp, pathetically, and you can’t help but tuck your chin to your chest.

“Just fucked you and you’re getting shy.” He snickers with a look of disgust. “I think i’ll play with you again and again until I tire of this.”

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before moseying out of the library, adjusting his dick in his pants as he goes.

Somehow, you’d gotten away with the first fucking without revealing your secret. Aside from not having a chance to finish the job and rub yourself to a much needed orgasm, you’re quite proud of yourself.

Sukuna doesn’t speak to you more than usual following the act, he’s just not the type. Does one speak to their flesh light between uses?

That night, you almost believe you’re dreaming when you wake up to Sukuna’s weight lying directly on top of you. You couldn’t sleep comfortably on your sore ass, so you’d had to sleep on your tummy, giving him a perfect opportunity.

“Again,” he rasps into your ear, grinding against your ass. You must have done well earlier if he’s already back for more, or he’s fond of how your asshole feels.

You tiredly whine and lower your groggy tone to say, “But the guards will hear— and the others.”

He ignores your concerns and crawls down your body, yanking your sweats down. You squeak, pushing a hand under yourself to keep your pants up at the front.

You glance over your shoulder. “What are you— oh!”

He spreads your ass and licks a stripe up your asshole, terrifyingly close to your pussy. So close your pussy clenches in anticipation, having a sweet mind of its own.

He pauses as he looks down at your hole with furrowed brows. It’s dark enough that he won’t be able to see the feminine parts of you, you hope.

He doesn’t say a word about his pause, just brings his face back down and pushes his tongue into your ass. He wriggles it around and you cringe, gripping the sheets as he stimulates your sore hole. You can’t even tell if it feels good to have your ass ate, or if it’s the concept of this man with his face in your ass, or the fact that you’re just fucking horny and begging for scraps.

After one last lick from your hole all the way up to your lower back, he crawls up to lay on you with his lips to your ear.

“Why the fuck is your ass sweet?” he asks as he lifts his hips to yank his cock out. Your brows raise, almost letting out a snicker. It must be due to your pussy leaking wetness down to your ass all day since the library.

“I— I don’t know,” you mumble as he holds one of your cheeks open and slides his tip against your hole.

“Just,” he grunts as he pops the tip in, not even waiting before pushing in to the hilt, “stay quiet and I’ll be done in a second.”

You whine under your breath, fisting the sheets as your toes curl. His legs surround the outsides of yours as his arms wrap around your neck in a loose headlock. You aren’t sure you can stay quiet if he pounds you like he did before without his hand covering your mouth. Getting caught with his dick in your ass doesn’t sound so great.

But fuck, you suddenly don’t care because his abs clench as he lifts his hips and slides back in, already gaining a stead rhythm. It’s slower than before, but hard. Your eyes roll back at how passionate it is, fingers pressing into his pulsing arms around your neck. You can’t remember the last time a man truly put his heart into fucking you.

You think you may be able to enjoy this little arrangement after all, considering his dick is big enough to pound into your g-spot with every hump. Maybe his claim on you, the free use of it all, is charming too.

But then, he begins to slide a hand down under you and you freeze.

He’s reaching for your nonexistent dick.

You snap your hand down to grip his wrist, stopping him, but you know that he could bypass your frail hold if he really wanted to.

“D-Don’t touch,” you breathily murmur through his continued thrusts.

“Tch,” he grunts in distaste, “Won’t see your ugly dick. You should be thanking the gods that I’d even try to touch you.”

You wish you could allow him to touch, rub your clit, finger you, fuck you the proper way. But no matter how horny you are, you have to have a clear head about this. If he knew you were a woman, he could tell the guards— or worse, tell the other inmates and let them have a turn with you. That’s just the tip of the iceberg of the horrible things that could happen to you if you’re exposed.

“I know, I know,” you gulp, lips parting as he manages a particularly nice thrust, “just— next time. Okay? Next time.”

He huffs, exasperated and gives up, moving his hand away and instead uses it to dig into your hip to get a better angle.

“Fuuck,” you breathe in a particularly girly way as he reaches deeper, and he hisses in your ear in obvious pleasure. He seems to enjoy the way you ‘moan like a woman.’

“Good,” he thrusts, “little,” thrust, “hole.”

He cums with a last few pitiful humps and rubs his hips against your ass in a circle as if to make sure his cum is deeep in there.

You feel utterly spent when he pulls out, two loads in your ass just from today and you’re clocking out.

He doesn’t even give you another look as he gets up and stretches with a yawn, wet dick still hanging about his thigh.

You pull your sweats up with a grimace at how sore your asshole feels. If you weren’t so horny, you might be annoyed how beat up your insides feel.

You exhale in relief when he passes out the second he flops down into bed like any average man does. You’re already thinking of some way to fool him into thinking you have a cock by the next time he wants to fuck.

_______

You’ve stolen a cucumber from the kitchen. It wasn’t easy, but you managed.

Sukuna has you up against the cell bars and has grown quite confident in his ability to fuck you within an inch of your life. He doesn’t seem like he’s all that invested in you, after all, he still thinks of you as some boy he’s using to get off. But you’re still enjoying it as much as any woman can reasonably enjoy anal.

He definitely seems to enjoy fucking you too, because you can feel his thighs shake as he pounds into you.

He kicks your feet wider and reaches around you to grab at your ‘dick.’ “Gonna let me touch it now?”

You gulp, peeking down at his hand that finds the cucumber and grips it.

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking hard.”

You would laugh in his face if he wasn’t obliterating your insides with heavy humps.

He slowly begins to knead your ‘cock’ and the only way you know that, is because the tip of the cucumber incidentally rubs against your clit with every one of his strokes.

“Oh shit,” you breathe, brows raising and blinking into an eye roll of surprise pleasure. The stimulation to your clit and g-spot is like heaven after two days of being pent up.

“Don’t— don’t stop,” you beg, making his brow quirk.

The second you start fucking back into his cock, like an auto-masterbater, Sukuna’s eyes roll and his orgasm appears in the distance.

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, indifferent to the pain he could be causing and meets your thrusts half way. There’s no way you’re not waking the entire cell block with the slapping sound bouncing off the concrete walls.

You sigh in disappointment when he lets go of your ‘dick’ and uses both hands to grip your hips, thrusting harder than ever.

He hisses an inhale like it hurts, a string of saliva connecting your shoulder to his teeth— and cums as his feet slightly shuffle.

“Phew,” he exhales, pulling out and tucking his dick back in. He crashes right into bed, just like before, and leaves you throbbing and needy. Again.

_____________

Sometime in the middle of the night, Your cell.

Sukuna has turned ravenous, he wants to fuck everyday, at least twice. It’s a bit much because you have to prep the same day before anal, and you’ve had to turn him down. Not without worries of how he’d take the rejection with little explanation, but thankfully, all he did is tsk and walk off.

One day of no sex, and he’s been staring at you through the entire day. When you wake up, in the cafeteria, on walks, while you draw on your bed. It’s frightening since you can’t read his expression that’s always resting in a threatening way. Would it be stupid to ask what he’s feeling?

Honestly, you just wanted him to wait until you could prep, and then he could have at it— but he didn’t get the message. And it’s not like you can just tell him, ‘Hey Sukuna, you can fuck my ass anytime now. Clock’s ticking!’ That’d mean you’re actively seeking anal, and that’s ridiculous. Right?

You shrug it off and decide to ignore his stare, focusing your attention on the book in your hands. He’s a big boy, if he needs something, he’ll ask for it.

And ask for it, he does.

You gasp when you’re suddenly pushed down flat to your bed, strong hands spreading your legs so Sukuna can rest between them as your book clatters to the floor. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps, or the creak of his bed as he stood.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, looking up at him with your heart racing out of your chest. “You scared me.”

His clothed bulge is hovering just above your pussy, but if he rested his weight down a few inches, you’re fucked. Maybe literally.

He must have just showered, his hair is damp and dark pink. He looks down at you hungry, like you’re not a person but a fucktoy with a timed lock on it that’s almost ready to use again, licking his bottom lip. “Does this fix your problem? Can I fuck you now, princess?”

Your brows furrow, an obvious question mark on your expression. You ignore the pet name meant to taunt you, because you’re not a man with toxic masculinity.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not kissing you. Missionary is as romantic as I’ll get. Take it or leave it.”

What? He must have misinterpreted your rejection as a desire for more intimacy and affection when you have sex. The idea of missionary with Sukuna makes your tummy flutter— but you can’t.

You press your lips together, concealing a laugh. “Oh. Um— no,” you gently press against his chest, “I like how we usually do it.”

“You know,” he leans into your face, “I’m getting real tired of you bossing me around.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, recalling your excuse for keeping your dick out of sight, “I just feel— uh—insecure.”

“Fuck that,” he grunts, grabbing hold of the hem of your sweats, “Only way to get over that shit is to face it.”

You grasp his wrist, nervously. It’s not like you don’t want Sukuna to know you’re a woman so you can fuck the way you want to, it’s just too complicated and risky.

“I— really, let’s just do it against the wall, like we always do!” you attempt to convince him as he pulls against your hold.

He doesn’t say a word, just squints at you like he can smell bullshit in your words.

Suddenly, he yanks your pants all the way down until they fall to the floor and you immediately cup your sex, trying to hide from him. You twist your lower half to lie on your side, legs bent around his side so they can stay together.

He glances down at your lower half and grips your thigh. “Show me,” he snaps, more suspicious than warranted if he actually believed your lies of insecurity.

You shake your head stubbornly, clenching your eyes shut.

“Now,” he allows the word to reverberate against the walls of the cell, and you swear you can feel the vibrations in your chest.

That domineering tone is like a frequency that emits a wave of submission in timid people like you, like a lions roar to a cornered bunny.

Still, you don’t open your legs.

He scoffs a huff of air, like he’s in disbelief of your sudden ability to grow balls. Pun intended.

You peek your eyes open when you feel him shift to crawl down your body until his breath is fanning your hand covering your pussy and naked asshole.

You squeak when he slides his tongue against your fingers. “Open up,” he taunts, giving your asshole a little lick as well.

You whimper as he begins licking at your hand and your thighs, resolve dissolving with every warm, wet touch.

“I’m— I’m scared,” you admit with panic, though you’re being too vague for him to actually console you even if he wanted to.

He takes a big bite out of your thigh and you gasp, pussy clenching in need from the sting. Your wetness has made your hands slippery, and the second he takes another bite, this time a deep one on your fingers, your hand slips away with a sting and a hiss.

He takes the opportunity to yank your legs apart, spreading them over each of his thighs till you’re on full display in front of him. Like a plate.

Your wide eyes flick from your exposed pussy, to his red eyes trained down between your legs. You quickly reach to futilely cover yourself once again.

“Aht!” he scolds, pinning your wrists to the bed on either side of your body before they can cover your sex again. “Don’t fucking move,” he snaps, inches from your face.

You must have the expression of a small animal being prepped for slaughter as he closely eyes you because that’s exactly how you feel. You watch his face shift as he realizes your features aren’t just girly, you’re a fucking girl.

“Please.” You plead him, but for what exactly?

He exhales into you, ignoring you to observe your body. He lets go of one wrist to slowly raise the hem of your shirt up to your collarbones, revealing a tightly wrapped chest.

As if he needs to make sure, he rips it away and blinks at your bouncing tits. One last look at your pussy and he huffs harshly, gazing into your eyes like he just won the lottery.

“Holy shit.”

You’re mute, afraid and frozen in place as your legs clench around his hips, trying to close them around him even though it’s impossible.

“Why are you here?”

He watches you with equal parts curiosity and amused awe.

“I— I made a deal. A stupid fucking deal,” you breathe in your natural feminine voice. It’s not hard to assume the deal was money for time in prison.

He shakes his head, laughing airily like he can’t believe his eyes. “Now this is so very interesting. A woman in my cell.”

He leans into your ear, making your chest and tummy erupt in goosebumps. “I knew your little asshole was too good to be true.” He nips your ear and you whine.

“Don’t— please don’t tell anyone.”

Your quiet request makes him burst out laughing, head tossing back as he hovers over you territorially.

“Tell them?” A vein in his forehead pops as his gaze manically flicks back and forth from each of your eyes, “No, you foolish little thing. You’re all mine. You’d have to fucking kill me to share this pretty pussy.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel relived or scared. You’ve grown fond of Sukuna’s cock, but that look in his eye is downright diabolical.

“You’re,” you begin with a swallow, “not gonna hurt me?”

“Ohhh,” he breathes cathartically like he’s battling aggression seeing something so small and delicate beg not to be broken. “No, no. I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re safe with me.”

You aren’t so sure, if that glint in his eye and tone in his deep voice tells you anything. Like mouse encountering a perfect piece of cheese suspiciously sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, begging to be eaten.

He leans in and lays a soft kiss to your cheek, making you blink.

“See?” he hums smiling, “I know exactly how to handle with care.”

He presses his nose to your neck and starts sniffing you loudly, like a dog— down to your breasts, your tummy, and finally he takes a good long sniff of your pussy.

You slap your hands to your face in embarrassment and he groans loudly on an exhale, jaw pinching as he clenches his teeth. “Fuuuck. Nothing quite like it. Your pussy smells very nice,” he trails off with a manic laugh, licking his lips.

His eye catches on your pinched brows once you hesitantly pull your hands away to grip the sheets and he leans into your face with a careful kiss to your jaw. “Deal still on, baby?”

You absolutely have no choice, you need his protection now more than before. Without this deal, there’s no telling what he’d do— no matter what he says. And even if he keeps his word, who’s to say no one else will find out your secret? It helps that he’s hauntingly sexy with a big dick he knows what to do with.

You gulp, nodding. “Yes, please.”

“Goood,” his lip curls as he drawls the word out, “That’s very good.”

He licks a wet stripe up the side of your face, making you grip his biceps.

“Are we going to have sex? My— You want my—”

He interrupts your stutter by humming against your cheek with amusement. “Oh yes. I want your pussy. I’m gonna take it over and over again.”

You exhale a sigh, eyes slightly rolling back, enjoying his words a little too much for the situation at hand.

“I’m not on birth control,” you warn him weakly as he begins to suck on your neck.

He hums nonchalantly, slowly sliding his hand down your tummy.

Your hips jerk when he cups your entire sex, long cold fingers pressing into your warm folds that are just begging for love.

“We don’t have condoms,” you add, biting your lip as he uses two middle fingers to carefully brush from your slippery hole up to your clit.

He chuckles against your neck, wickedly, like he’s enjoying every aspect of this conversation.

“No, we don’t,” he agrees with a smile you can literally hear on his voice.

Your jaw drops as he starts rubbing leisurely circles against your throbbing clit, back arching to press your abdomen into his hard abs.

“You have to pull out,” you whine in a broken moan.

“Okay,” he agrees with ease, moving to press his lips to yours.

You barely kiss him back, as his lips slide and suck on yours.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to kiss me,” you say, muffled as your legs tremble.

He moves his middle fingers down and slides one into your core, making you gasp into his mouth.

He abruptly shoves his tongue into your mouth, sliding and flicking against your tongue. He peeks the tip of his pointer finger in to join his middle inside you, and once your initial ring of resistance gives, he shoves it in like a glove.

“Oh,” you whine, brows pinching and toes curling. “Your fingers are so— fuck— they’re big.”

“Oho,” he breathes as he unhurriedly rocks them in and out, “You’ve been so unsatisfied, haven’t you? Getting ass fucked with not one touch to your pretty, crying little pussy.”

You nod erratically, “I was just so scared if you found ou— oh god.”

He gradually puts weight behind his thrusts, fingering you at an angle to abuse your g-spot.

“You thought I would want to hurt you,” he assumes with a pitying smile, “No, no. I just wanna fuck the shit out of you.”

You reach down and grip his wrist, but his hand in motion makes it difficult.

“Please make me cum,” you beg, “I’d be really— so grateful.”

“Yeah?” He presses a peck to your lips and crawls down to stuff his face between your legs. “Finally,” he sighs to your pussy.

He glances up at you and pecks your jumping clit. “Gonna eat your pussy. You want that?”

Your eyes roll back and you nod pathetically. “Oh my god, yes.”

He doesn’t waste time. He makes a pursing motion with his lips and basically sucks your clit into his mouth like a vacuum, gently suckling on it with his eyes blissfully closed. His free hand rests around your hip and flat against your lower tummy.

Your brain is fucking buzzing, toes curling in the air as you breathe short, pathetic breaths. You’re delightfully surprised he knows you need your clit stimulated to cum; a man in prison just isn’t the type you’d expected to know what most women need.

You use both hands to gently curl into his pink hair, watching his lips envelop your clit as the motion of his hand rocks into you.

“That feels good,” you affirm, voice shaky, making sure he knows he’s going a good job so he doesn’t feel motivated to stop.

He doesn’t answer you, just flicks his tongue against your clit with horrifying stamina, like his tongue is as trained as the rest of his body. You don’t feel a second of lag in his force behind his tongue and that yummy suction.

You melt when he transitions into thorough, flat tongued licks, the kind that nudges your clit in a way that’s not too overstimulating— but genuinely pleasurable in a sustainable way. You could actually cum like this. You rub his head like a masseuse, kneading the skin affectionately, making his brows and forehead slightly move with your massage.

He eats you like he hasn’t eaten his favorite meal in a long time, and considering the slop in the cafeteria, your delirious mind thinks it makes perfect sense that he’s probably soo hungry. It’s not his fault he’s so eager.

Your toes curl as your abdomen clenches inward, honing your focus to find an orgasm in the distance with every specifically pressurized slide of his tongue.

He tilts his head idly, side to side and the second he finds that perfect angle to the left, you gasp and yank his head impossibly closer.

“Right there, huh?” is the last thing he says before repeating the motion perfectly, over and over and over while his hand continues at ample speed. It’s about 27 licks in when the white blinds your sight and you give in to the ecstasy of an orgasm.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you— fuck!” you stupidly babble the one phrase you can’t seem to stop repeating to the man ever since you met him, voice strained and slurring as your brain short circuits and cuts off the connection between your motor skills and brain signals.

Even when you fall limp with fading euphoria, frailly whining, ‘no more,’ his big mouth attaches to your entire slit like a fucking milk pump, despite acknowledging your orgasm passing by discarding his wet fingers to join his other hand on your hip/tummy area.

It’s an interesting sight— your weak, spasming body jerking in overstimulation as he blissfully hallows his cheeks and enjoys your cunt with all kinds of tongue techniques. The type of techniques a stupidly rich man has learnt after so many wine tastings to get the full taste profile of every berry inside to layer over his every tastebud. Getting his full money’s worth of this favorite thing.

But fuck if it doesn’t feel good to be licked, even with the ultra sensitivity of an after glow.

“Sukuna— please,” you whimper, “Aren’t you gonna fuck me?”

That’s what makes him pause, flicking open his relaxed, heavily lidded gaze.

He unsuctions your warm folds, letting go in one popping motion and you exhale sharply when the cold air hits you.

He crawls up your body like a predator, more than twice your size. He slides his arms under your back to hold you flush to his body, hugging you in a possessive hold. One hand wraps around the back of your neck, fingers almost meeting at the front, and the other massages your lower back.

“Am I popping your pussy cherry too?” he hums, lips brushing yours as he speaks into your mouth.

“No,” you huff, “Is that a deal breaker?”

He nips your lower lip. “I’m gonna eat you whole,” he expresses how deeply he wants to fuck you— how small a concern like being a virgin would be to him.

You shiver, and maybe even start to consider why he’s in prison in the first place. Eat you.. whole..?

“Can we fuck first?”

He licks his teeth as his metaphorical tiger tail flicks behind him— like a bunny has triggered a tigers instinct to play while in the midst of a chase. If he could purr, he would be right about now.

Interrupting your little moment, the breakfast bell rings. Sukuna must have made his move an hour before six while you were reading the night away and neither of you noted the time. Sukuna had thought it’d be a 10 minute ass fuck, but now that he’s stumbled upon gold in the form of a woman, he’s gotten distracted.

You’re expecting Sukuna to be frustrated that you have to stop before you even reached the main event, but surprisingly, he just helps you get dressed and then stands lazily by the cell bars to cover you while you wrap your chest so no one eyes his plaything.

The guard just passes by boredly, doing morning checks, nodding at Sukuna in brief greeting.

Once the guard is out of sight, you huff in exhaustion and sit up on your bed. After all the fear of being exposed as a woman and having an orgasm like that, all you want is to sleep. You literally nod off as you sit there, listening to the ruffle of Sukuna throwing on some new clothes.

Two taps to your cheek makes you startle, slurping up some drool as you open your eyes. Sukuna squats in front of you, holding your knees.

“Breakfast,” he reminds you, “get up.”

You pout at his tone, having hoped he’d soften up to you after learning you’re a woman. A woman he desperately wants to fuck and protect and own.

“Can’t you bring it to me?”

He blinks at you, deadpanning. “The fuck did you just say?”

You flinch a bit, chin tucking into your chest. You grow even more alert as he stands and pushes over you, making you lean back in bed with your palms behind you, supporting your weight right beside his own larger ones.

“Does this pretty little thing want to be punished?”

You immediately bite your lip, smiling as he pushes his head into your neck to nip at it.

“Mhm, keep doing that,” you encourage his panty dropping neck kisses.

Oncoming footsteps leading closer and closer to your cell make your heart jolt, and suddenly he roughly pushes you down flat with a veiny hand tight around your throat.

“Begging for a beating so early in the morning are we, boy?” he rasps, menacingly, as the inmate walks past, peeking at your altercation briefly before scurrying off in fear of becoming involved in Sukuna’s business.

You smile.

Oh. This’ll be fun.

______

SORRY edged you there, didn’t I?

Also not sure if this counts as gender bend? Lmk if I should add it to the warnings!

—

Your car rolls to a stop, gravel crunching under the dusty wheels. Throwing it in park, you unstick your thighs from the leather seat as you laze your way out of the vehicle, already moving slowly under the hot Indiana sun.

"Well, hey there, farmer Eddie," you tease, jingling the keys in your sweaty grip. "How're the crops this year?"

Eddie doesn't move from his crouched position, hovering in front of a comically small picket fence, half-painted white. You watch his head shake, knowing there's a wide grin on the other side.

As you meander closer, you start to notice the various colors staining the jean material of his overalls. Leaning just over his shoulder, you watch his steady, ringed hand glide the thick-bristle brush over the wood.

"Oo, Picasso!"

He snorts, tilting his head to get a good look at you. You glance down, meeting his bright eyes. 

"If I remain silent, will you just keep coming up with new ways to make fun of me?"

"Oh, you don't need to be silent for that," you say, knocking your knee into his bare shoulder. "Just gotta exist."

He chuckles, ducking back down to blot the brush into the tin full of white paint.

You suck in a shuddering breath when you see a couple frizzy, unruly curls hang low in his eyes—wisps that escaped the low bun on his neck, trapping the rest of his mane. It takes everything in you not to brush the strands out of his face, to not lick your lips at the way sweat has dampened his bangs into dainty bundles resting on his forehead.

You gulp, clearing your throat.

"So, who's got Eddie 'The Perpetually Unemployed' working?"

"Wayne," he says, answering quick and easy, like painting the small slats of wood a singular color has captured all his attention.

You nod, deciding to settle onto the grass next to him.

"Ah. So not just a passion project? You're not really turnin' all 'Little Trailer on the Prairie’?"

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you once more before going back to his work.

You try to ignore the way the fond glint in his eyes seems to release a swarm of butterflies in your stomach—an annoying byproduct of years of tension masquerading as friendship. Because that’s what you are—friends. Just friends. Close enough to know everything about each other, but not close enough to know the others’ touch.

"Nah, not yet. I'm savin' that for when I receive your dowry and we can finally get this horse ’n wagon on the road," he teases, laughing at his own joke.

"Hey, now," you warn, throwing him a lighthearted glare. "I'll have you know, I can really rock a sturdy country fabric. You weren't there in sixth grade theatre class—I had all the boys beggin' to churn my butter."

A choked laugh catches in his throat, born from the urge to scoff in shock. "Ew! Okay, no more talking from you today. And absolutely no more use of the words boys or butter, especially in the same sentence."

You giggle wildly, throwing your head back and rocking into his side. "But-but, how will I annoy you to death?" you whine, jutting out your bottom lip. "Will I just have to settle for the old-fashioned murder route? That’s so overdone."

Lukewarm liquid coats your nose when Eddie suddenly swipes at you with his brush, swatting you like a misbehaving cat. Your face scrunches in a playful wince as you squirm under the odd feeling.

"You wish you could be rid of me. Me and my hot, tight, little body," he smirks, shimmying his shoulders your way. 

Flames lick at your cheeks and you’re certain the sun and moon are gossiping about the warming you’re inflicting upon Mother Nature, all from the effect of his teasing. Forcing indifference, you wipe your nose clean before smearing the remnants onto his overalls.

"Yeah, I do. So!" You sit up straight, eagerly leaning into him. 

"What're you workin' for nowadays, a nickel an hour? Oh!” Your brows lift excitedly. “If you make it to three nickels, can you buy me a drink from the soda pop shop?" Fluttering your lashes, you put on your best fifties dime-piece lilt. "I surely would appreciate it, big daddy!"

"Aaaand that's strike two," he nods, like he expected nothing less of you. "And for your information...it's a dime an hour."

A shocked laugh leaves your parted lips, but before you can respond, Eddie grumbles some more.

"Had to argue for that much. Wayne said the roof over my head should be payment enough."

You snicker at the sudden rouge to his cheeks, watching with rapt attention as he tries to fight off a smile.

Finally, you take a look around, noticing the comically small picket fence bordering the rest of the grassy property, like a proper fence, not just a barrier for bunnies, which, admittedly, is what it looks like right now. But you see the vision. Kind of.

"Why does he want this, anyway?" you ask, vaguely gesturing to the rest of the enclosure.

Eddie sighs, taking a break from painting to wipe his hands on his pants and flex his fingers. Rolling his shoulders back, he lets his head loll in your direction.

"I don't know. I think he thinks it'll up the property value—at least visually. Not like we're ever gonna move out of this shit hole. But I guess we're gonna be the shiniest, smelliest shit in the hole," he grins, bobbing his head closer to yours.

You huff an amused breath through your nose, leaning away from where he encroaches on your space. Because even all sweaty—smelling of boy, fresh cut grass, and paint fumes—he still makes you dizzy. Although, that may be the fumes. Either way—with the humidity being as suffocating as it is, you don't need to choke on his intoxicating scent too.

Reaching in front of his now-crossed legs, you grab the brush he left in the tin, scrape the excess paint off, and scoot a little to the left—finding an unpainted slat of wood.

"Can't be that hard," you mutter, commenting on the way he seemed to be laser-focused since you arrived.

"Alright, then. Let's see it, Van Gogh," he tips his chin at you, a knowing smile playing at his lips.

You start at the top, moving downward in small strokes, but your hands quickly stall when you hear Eddie's disgruntled reaction.

"No, no, no, no! What are you, nuts?" His voice jumps an octave on the insult, brows tightening to make a deep valley on his forehead. "That is horrific technique, sweetheart! Forget the ear, if Van Gogh had brush strokes like that, he would've gone for the hand—and rightfully so!"

A scoff tears from your throat, diving into the air and creating ripples in the tension. You pull away from the post, holding the brush out to him. “Fine, you do it, then.”

But instead of taking the tool, he only shakes his head. “Nuh-unh. How will you ever learn if I just do it for you?” 

“Oh, please. When am I ever gonna need to paint a fence in my life?” you argue, cocking your head at him, sporting your best unimpressed look.

He clears his throat, glancing at the fence post in front of you.

You roll your eyes. “Besides right now.”

Jerking his head back, Eddie shoots you an indignant glare. “Uh, you don’t expect me to paint our prairie home all by myself, do you?”

“Sorry, I’m an old-fashioned gal,” you shrug, throwing him a saccharine smile, sarcasm dripping from the corners. “I was raised to believe men do the boy-jobs and women have the babies.” 

Your smile grows at the way he ducks his head at the mention of babies—the insinuation of you having his—and the way he tries to shake off the blush on his cheeks.

“No, sorry. No self-respecting prairie wife of mine is gonna paint like that.” He gestures toward the streaky, drying finish. “It’s your lucky day, sweetheart. You’re gonna learn how to be a multi-hyphenate prairie wife!”

Grumbling a quick, condescending, “Oh, that’s a big word for Eddie,” you begrudgingly accept his guidance—the heat of his hand on yours, the pressure of space shrinking between the two of you. 

With his chest pressed to your side, warmth radiating off of him in crashing waves, you let him move the brush in long, careful strokes. 

“Alright, the trick is to really take your time. Slow and steady wins the race here.” His words devolve into a low timbre as he regains focus. “We don’t want any lines in the paint, wan’ a smooth finish.”

With Eddie frighteningly close to you now, you’re acutely aware of the small puffs of air cascading over your cheek. If you move—if you even twitch—you’re certain you would melt under the caress of his soft lips.

“L–Like this?” you ask, hypnotized by the way his hand guides yours in perfect control—all serenity wrapped sweetness. 

Hunching under the constraint of his bare skin against yours, you black out a little from how you can nearly taste the sheen sweat coating him, the way it makes your mouth water. 

But he doesn’t allow your posture to stay uncomfortable for long. Suddenly, his other hand stills at your lower back, pressing into you, holding, like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart at the seams—the seams he’s ripping. 

“Yeah, just like that. Good, that’s really good, sweets.” 

His gravelly voice floats into your ear like dancing music notes, playing the prettiest melody. You gulp, feeling hotter than the surface of the sun, especially where his palm burns through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Clearing your throat, you fight back a shiver when the fingers wrapped around your hand dig into your palm, almost like he’s trying to hold you, but instead of threading his fingers with yours, he maneuvers the brush from your grasp. When your mouth falls open in an earnest attempt to question him, he seems to take pity on your inability to sound anything out. 

“Gotta get more paint on there,” he murmurs, the smallest, most devilish hint of a smile corrupting his doe-like features. You have half a mind to ask him if he’s doing this on purpose, but you decide against it. You’re not sure how stern you can appear when you’re trembling under such small touches.

When he returns the brush to you, he lets his hand stall on yours a second longer, starting the motions for you once more. You try to keep as still as possible, paint as straight as you can, but his overwhelming presence has you nearly squeezing your thighs together. 

“You’re shakin’, baby,” he drawls, a quiet laugh leaving his grinning mouth as he stares at the side of your face with an unyielding look you can’t quite place. 

A bead of sweat drips down your temple; you’re burning up under his rapt attention. But ever the gentleman, he lets your hand go for a split-second, only to swipe the salty droplet away. When he notices your uneasy grip, he gently smooths his palm up your forearm, leaving a wave of goosebumps in its wake.  

“Take it slow. Yeah, there you go. Good, good girl.”

This time you can’t stop the hitch in your breath. But when you see his wicked grin widen in your peripheral vision, you drop the brush in the grass, opting to elbow him in the ribs.

Almost like you’ve been freed from a fugue state, you jump up and away from him. “You’re doing this on purpose, asshole!”

Your heaving chest and angry, breathless words seem to have no effect on him. At least not the intended effect, which would preferably be shame for messing with you. 

But instead, Eddie only blushes wildly, throwing his head back in a raucous fit of laughter. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It was just so easy! I mean, you almost moaned when I put my hand on your back!” 

A disgruntled frown sours your features, and you turn to the freshly painted posts in front of you, dragging your hand down the wet surface area.

“Hey! That was a lot of work!” 

His cry goes in one ear and out the other—you’re too focused on smearing your covered palm across his face and shoving his head until he tips backward, falling into the nearly-full tin of paint. 

“Jackass!” 

A/N: Thoughts? <3

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You blink as he smooths his thumb along your hairline, and you lean into the soft affection.

You know he's only trying to distract you, but the low timbre of his voice does wonders for your wired state.

"Um," you almost ask him to repeat the question when a frazzled-looking techie runs up to the both of you.

"Munson, ten seconds!"

His head slowly turns and you're shocked you don't hear a grating screech accenting the movement. You watch as his brows disappear into his bangs, and the young guy nods quickly, leaving with a hurried, "Right, they can wait."

"Good choice," Eddie responds, turning his attention back on you, his eyes softening.

"How 'bout we stay in, hm? Take a bath in that big ass tub, put on those fluffy robes you like, and order a fuck ton of room service. How's that sound, sweetheart?"

You sag under the weight of his hands, your body leaning towards him like sunflower to the brightest ray. "That sounds nice," you sigh. "Really nice."

He ducks down, letting his mouth hover over yours. He smells like smoke, mint, and the cologne you bought him last March. His scent. All softness and worn leather.

"Mm, I think so, too."

Bodies rush past you—his bandmates take the stage to thundering applause—but his gaze never leaves yours.

A chaste kiss—more a soft brush of lips than anything—then another. And he smiles, devious with that particular glint. The one that tells you his mind has travelled down stream, getting stuck in the gutter. Though, he would say, when it comes to you, his mind lives down there.

"Maybe after you have your fill o’ room service, you can have your fill o' me.” He tries the innocent look, but you smack him anyway.

"Eddie!"

"What? I meant, like, conversationally. Conversationally, you can have your fill o' me."

You level him with an unimpressed glare.

He grins, a wolfish kind of glee possessing his features. "And then after that, I’ll fuck you so hard you'll be beggin' me to really fill you up. And baby, I live to serve. Gonna cum so deep in your pretty little pussy, you’ll be feelin’ me for days.”

"Edward Munson!"

"Hey, Munson! Sometime this century would be great!" Jeff calls over Gareth's drum solo.

"'S that a yes?"

You scoff, wide eyes daring him to keep it up.

"Eh, we'll table it," he waves, and a single hand grips your cheeks, puckering your lips. He kisses you with an exaggerated, "Mwah!" Then, his eyes darken a single shade, turning his gaze murky. "Open up."

You lift your chin, following the raspy order as best you can.

"Good girl," he mumbles, before spitting his gum into your waiting mouth. "Hold that for me, will you?"

With one last kiss—all smoke and mint—he squeezes your cheeks, muttering a low, "Pretty baby," and turns, swiping his guitar from the anxious techie.

Masterlist

Submission Guidelines

A/N: I would actually just let him spit in my mouth, hold the gum.

P.S. I have two thoughts I almost forgot to mention. 1) He gets his gum back in a mind numbing kiss. The type where you don’t even feel his tongue slip into your mouth, you just realize you’re missing something the moment he breaks away. Of course, he spits it right into the garbage, all the flavor gone now🥀

2) I’m having an image of you sitting on an amp offstage, positioned just right so you can watch him dazzle the crowd.

Every now and then, he’ll glance back into the wings, his eyes always finding yours immediately. And you like to remind him what he’s got waiting for him, so you spread your legs, giving him a quick look up your skirt.

He’s fun to tease, especially when you manage to trip him up, making him stumble over his words or sing off-key. That only happens when you go panty-less, though.

And of course, that always comes with its own risks.

Not people seeing—you don’t care about that—but rather the punishment you’re practically begging for. At least, that’s what he says.

Come to think of it, maybe he’s mentioned something about exposure, or exposing yourself. Eh, something like that. Blah, blah, blah, your pretty pussy is his and for his eyes only, blah, blah, blah. Usually you stop listening the second he orders you to bend over the green room couch.