It’s late, sometime after 3 a.m. The apartment is quiet and dark, save for the dim glow in the bathroom where you’ve been slumped in the tub for… maybe half an hour. You’re lying still, eyes half-lidded, one hand absently pressed to your stomach. The water– long gone from steaming to warm– laps gently around your hips every time you shift, your skin pruned and flushed, the ache still gnawing low in your abdomen. The cramps haven’t let up, even after all this time soaking, and you’re exhausted.

You’d been in bed earlier, a heating pad pressed to your stomach, one leg kicked out from under the duvet to keep you cool while you waited for the painkillers to do their thing– hoping, praying they’d kick in before the cramps got bad enough to spoil your chances of sleeping. Matt had gotten in late from a roadie and you’d wanted him to be able to rest. But when the pain began to pulse deeper, spreading through your pelvis and down the insides of your thighs until even the sheets felt too heavy, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. Knowing how lightly Matt sleeps, you forced yourself out of bed and relocated here instead.

But now, you hear the door creak and glance over your shoulder to find Matt standing in the doorway, rubbing the heel of his palm over one eye, hair sticking up in every direction. He’s got a hoodie pulled lazily over his frame, the collar tugged crooked over the hollow of his neck.

“Hey,” he rasps, voice rough with sleep. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

You sigh, offering him a meek, apologetic smile. Your hair is bundled up in a messy bun, a few loose strands falling free and framing your face.

He’s already walking over, pushing up his sleeves and kneeling beside the tub. His eyes sweep over you, taking in the tension in your body, the way one hand is clutching your belly. His gaze is heavy with sleep but focused wholly on you, his expression soft with concern. 

“How long have you been in here?” he asks, brushing his knuckles gently down your damp arm.

“A while.”

“Hurting?” 

You nod.

He dips his hand below the surface of the water and finds your knee, his thumb tracing light shapes over your skin. His hand is big and warm, fingers long enough to wrap around almost the entire width of your knee. The touch makes you feel small and held without him even trying. 

“Water helping?”

You shrug, sinking a little lower into the water.

Matt studies you for a beat, then presses a kiss to the crown of your head and reaches for the hem of his hoodie. “Scoot forward.”

“Matt, you don’t have to–”

“I know,” he interrupts gently, tugging the hoodie over his head and standing to kick off his boxers. “C’mon, scoot.”

You shift forward and Matt climbs in behind you, slow and careful. The water rises around you both as he settles in, guiding you back between his thighs, his arms looping around your middle, solid and familiar. You melt into him instinctively, leaning back into the warmth of his chest with a sigh. One of his hands settles over your stomach, palm broad and grounding, while the other curls over your ribs, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast. He rubs small, soothing circles, warmth radiating through his touch.

“That okay?” he murmurs.

“Mm.”

He drops a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “You already take something?”

“A while ago.”

“Not helping?”

You shake your head. “Not really.”

He hums, lips grazing the side of your neck. “I hate seeing you in pain.” 

“This helps,” you reply, voice small and sleepy.

“You should’ve woken me.”

You sigh. “I came in here so that I wouldn’t wake you.”

“Mm.” His breath fans against your skin, and you can tell that he’s smiling faintly. “Because you were squirming like someone was trying to saw you in half.”

You huff a quiet laugh through your nose. “Yes. And you need the rest. You must be exhausted.”

“I don’t care,” he says easily. “You know I have the day off tomorrow anyway.” 

You clutch his arm where it’s wrapped around you, squeezing lightly– a silent thanks for how unfailingly caring he always is.

You tilt your head back slightly, looking up at him to find his eyes already on you. “Did you sleep at all on the plane?”

He shakes his head, eyes still heavy but fond. “Not really.”

“You played well,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. 

He gasps, flashing you a grin. “You watched?”

You roll your eyes faintly, a real smile tugging at your lips for the first time tonight. “You know I always watch you,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, thumb brushing along your jaw. “Got you to smile though, didn’t I?” He kisses your temple then tilts your chin just enough to press his lips to yours. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. 

You shake your head softly, unable to stop the dopey smile spreading across your face. In typical Matt fashion, he’s somehow still managing to make you feel lighter even when you’re drained. He always makes everything better. 

He hums, satisfied, and pulls you tighter against his chest, arms snug around you. “C’mere.” 

You sink into him, letting your body settle fully into his warmth. For a while, there’s only the sound of the water and your shared breathing, the quiet comfort of being held. Matt’s thumbs continue tracing slow, comforting patterns into your skin. He kisses the side of your neck, then your jaw, then just behind your ear, each press of his lips leaving you exhaling a little slower, your body loosening bit by bit.

Then one of his hands drifts lower, sliding over the soft swell of your thigh. Goosebumps ripple over your skin, his touch sparking through you even beneath the warmth of the water. You shift a little, legs parting for him without thought. His fingers skim along the inside of your thigh in featherlight passes, dragging higher each time, finally pausing just below your centre. 

“Can I?” he asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nod, weak but eager for any type of relief. “Yeah.”

Your thighs fall further open, knees brushing either side of the tub.

He cups you first– gentle, tentative, like he’s letting you adjust to his touch. When you don’t shy away, he begins to move his fingers with barely-there pressure, just gliding between your folds with the softest rhythm. He parts you gently, no urgency in the way he’s touching you– just patience, intention, care.

“Feels okay?” he murmurs, thumb passing over your clit experimentally.

“Mhm,” you breathe. 

His lips find your neck again, leaving open-mouthed kisses as his fingers move over your clit in soft, patient circles. His mouth explores, trailing kisses over the curve of your shoulder, the soft edge of your jaw, the space just beneath your ear, until it feels like every inch of your skin is being soothed into a calm, clean slate. Every time his lips find your skin, the pain seems to slip further away. 

His fingers keep moving in the same patient rhythm all the while, circling your clit with just enough pressure, occasionally dipping lower, sliding through your folds with the same reverence he always has when he touches you like this.

You whimper as he presses a little harder, his other hand splaying protectively across your stomach, holding you to him while he works his fingers over you under the water. He keeps his touch unhurried, his focus on the rhythm of your breathing and the small shivers that pass through you as you start to give in to the pleasure. The ache in your abdomen begins to blur, drowned beneath the slow, steady heat building low in your belly. 

He eases a finger inside you and you gasp at the immediate, relieving stretch of it. Your walls flutter around him, and Matt sucks in a small, sharp breath of his own. 

“Love how your body responds to me,” he murmurs, forehead against your temple. “Even like this.”

You moan softly, his name caught in your throat.

“You want me to keep going?”

“Please,” you whisper.

He hums softly and obliges, working you open with gentle, even thrusts while his thumb keeps that same light, steady pressure on your clit. Soft, pleasured sounds escape you as he gradually builds his rhythm– slow but intentional, no rush, no teasing. He’s not trying to get you off fast, he’s just trying to ease your pain little by little.

You tense briefly when he slips a second finger inside, then melt back into the slow stretch. A quiet moan escapes you, barely audible over the water. He begins to move both digits in deep, curling strokes, paired with the steady roll of his thumb, coaxing you towards release with the gentlest persistence. The tension in your body unravels in slow waves, pulled apart by the drag of his fingers and the steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck.

His free hand slides upward to your chest, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing. His thumb grazes your hardened peak and you keen softly, hips tilting up into his touch.

“Doing okay?” he murmurs against your skin.

You nod, breathless. “Feels good.”

It’s all so slow– the stretch, the pressure, the fullness– everything about it is meant to soothe. His thumb keeps at your clit in perfect, lazy circles while his fingers curl just right, over and over. The sound of the water lapping around you, the soft rhythm of Matt’s breathing at your ear– it all blends into a lullaby of comfort. You start to move with him, your hips rising faintly in time, body chasing the warmth spreading through you.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers. “Just breathe.”

You arch into him when his mouth finds the sensitive spot near the base of your throat. It feels like he’s everywhere– his voice whispering praise in your ear, his strong arms holding you close, his fingers working you open, his lips ghosting over your skin. It's grounding and dizzying all at once, pulling you out of the ache that had you doubled over just minutes ago. It’s like your senses are heightened and every breath, every murmur, every press of his body against yours sparks something inside you until your thoughts blur and the pain becomes a distant hum. Matt knows your body well– knows how to draw you out of the pain and into warmth, how to make you soft beneath his touch. And right now, you’ve never been more grateful.

He keeps his pace steady, curling and scissoring and stroking until your legs begin to tremble under the water, your knees pressing into the porcelain as your whole body gives into the pressure, the care, the relief of being touched like this– like you’re being undone and put back together all at once.

“Do you wanna come?” he asks, not sure if you want the relief of release or just the distraction of something good cutting through the ache. “You don’t have to. This doesn’t have to be about that.”

The gentleness in his voice alone nearly undoes you.

“Please.”

“Okay, baby,” he whispers.

He adjusts his angle slightly, fingerings working with new purpose now, still steady and precise. His thumb draws tighter circles over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, as his fingertips press deep inside you, massaging your front wall. 

You feel your high just within reach, the pleasure white-hot and all-consuming as Matt edges you closer to release. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, as if a single sound from you could somehow pop this perfect, fragile bubble of pleasure Matt’s surrounded you with.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmurs, tender and awed.

Your hand finds his thigh under the water, gripping. “Matt–”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Let go.” 

You break with a quiet, wrecked moan, body going taught in his arms as your walls flutter around him in quick, pulsing waves. The water sloshes with each twitch of your hips, every tremor met with a soothing kiss to your shoulder. He strokes you through it, slow and careful, until the last of the tension ebbs out of your spine. When he finally withdraws his hand, you’re limp against him, the ache in your belly dulled– not entirely gone, but softened, replaced by a hazy, heavy calm.

“Okay?” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

You nod, completely boneless. “Yeah.”

“How’s the pain?” he asks quietly, brushing hair from your cheek.

“Better,” you breathe, chest still rising and falling. “Not like before.”

“Good.” He wraps his arms fully around you again, holding you against his chest as the water stills around you.

You don’t know how long you lie there like that. The water’s gone lukewarm, but Matt’s arms are still wrapped around you, fingers splayed gently over your belly, your head tucked under his chin. The pain has dulled enough that sleep starts to creep back in around the edges.

Eventually, he drops a kiss to your shoulder. “Let’s get you rinsed off, yeah?”

You hum– not a protest, but not exactly eager to move either.

“I’ll do everything,” he promises, already reaching for the drain plug with one hand, the other still holding you to his chest. 

The tub starts to empty, the water swirling away as Matt reaches for the shower head. He flips it on, waiting until the water’s warm before bringing it towards you.

“Don’t get my hair wet,” you mumble.

“I know,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek. “I won’t.”

Matt takes his time, rinsing over your arms, your thighs, between your legs, with a kind of quiet reverence that makes your throat tighten. 

Once you’re both rinsed clean, Matt steps out first, grabbing a towel and holding a hand out for you, patient as ever. You rise slowly, limbs loose, skin flushed, and he wraps the towel around you the second your feet hit the mat. He dries you with the same gentleness, sweeping the towel over your arms and middle, then crouching to pat your calves and feet dry. 

You mumble that you have to pee and he nods, pressing a kiss to your hip bone. “Meet you back in bed?” 

You nod, and he stands, brushing a soft kiss against your lips before heading out. He slips back into the room a couple moments later, placing one of his t-shirts and a fresh pair of your period underwear on the counter without a word.

By the time you finally step into your bedroom, he’s already pulled the covers back on your side of the bed, your heating pad waiting for you and set to the highest setting. You murmur out thanks as you slip in beside him, hoping the depth of your gratitude comes through the haze of exhaustion.

His hand finds your stomach right away, rubbing slow, sleepy circles. You feel everything fading away– the warmth of his arms, the weight of the blanket, and the steady rhythm of his hand lulling you under.

“You don’t have to stay up,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m not tired,” he whispers.

“You’re lying.”

“I’ll stay like this as long as you need.” His tone is final, but not unkind. 

bf!nanami who is a little bit mean about it, but in the most intoxicating way possible. he deliberately applies just a fraction more pressure, kneading the sensitive muscle with his broad palm and watching you squirm helplessly against him. "i didn't realize a simple touch could reduce you to this," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a gravelly warmth that tells you he finds this incredibly hot.

he teases you relentlessly, leaning down so his lips brush your burning ear. "look at me. tell me why you're trembling so much just from my hand. if you don't answer, i'll just have to keep squeezing until you do." he refuses to let you look away until you confess just how sensitive your thighs actually are.

bf!nanami who likes to abuse this newfound knowledge at every single opportunity, especially when he wants to fluster you in public. if you're out at a quiet restaurant, his hand will slide under the tablecloth, his fingers mapping out the soft skin of your thighs.

he loves watching you try to maintain a straight face while ordering food, your fingers white-knuckling the menu because he's lightly scratching the apex of your thigh. when you catch his eye, pleading with him silently, he just takes a calm sip of his wine and whispers, "focus on the waiter, sweetheart. tell him what you want to eat."

bf!nanami turns into an absolute menace behind closed doors. during sex, your thighs become his absolute favorite target. he likes to pin your legs wide apart, his heavy palms bruising your hips before sliding down to grip your thighs with enough force to leave faint, temporary marks.

he loves to deeply knead the ultra-sensitive skin right where your leg meets your hip, watching your back arch off the bed as you let out a ragged sob. "look at how flushed you get here," he grunts, his thumb pressing firmly into the sweet spot, relishing the way your thighs clamp around his waist in a desperate bid for relief.

bf!nanami who pairs his heavy-handed groping with sensory overload. while he’s driving himself into you, he’ll lean down to bite and press open-mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, deliberately targeting the spots that make your hips stutter-step and bring a sob to your throat.

he loves the contrast of his rough, calloused hands soothing over the ultra-sensitive skin, murmuring praises against your neck while ensuring you can't think about anything else but his touch.

Sukuna didn't think much about how his life would change once he was married. He'd be expected to make an heir, but it wasn't like that would affect his life.

Ha.

Hard to make an heir when his wife refused to acknowledge his existence, god forbid sleep in the same bed.

Hard to make an heir when his balls were full and the only seed he spent was on pretty, fluff-for-brains concubines, or eventually, when he could hardly stand to even look at them, his own god damned hand.

Being married to you wasn't only not boring, it was hell.

He had to wonder which of the many heinous acts he'd committed thus far in his lifetime had landed him living punishment in the form of you.

Probably all of them.

But Sukuna wasn't only a sadist, but a masochist just the same.

Sure he glared and sneered and scoffed at your back as you walked out the moment he stepped in a room. Making a snide comment under your breath as you passed him just to set his teeth grinding away.

Sometimes he would bark a, "Know your place, woman." At your disappearing form, catching your shoulders shaking the slightest bit. Like you were fucking laughing.

It made his blood boil and hands itch to do something. To retaliate, to show you your place and put you in it.

You were supposed to be a wife. Subservient and devoted in every way to him and his wants, his needs.

That’s the thing, in every technical way, you were. You ran the household, ate meals with him when expected, attended ceremonies and political gatherings when it was called for. On the outside, you were absolutely perfect.

And in some backwards way, you really were perfect for him.

A match in fire and callousness, you didn't let it rage out of control like he could. You kept it in check and used your seething as an underhanded weapon.

One that really got you what you wanted, because now you had all the freedoms of a wealthy noblewoman, and you had Sukuna reluctantly wrapped around your pretty little finger.

You knew he was not the person to have worked up and left on the edge, but it’s not like you particularly gave a shit. It was amusing to see how his crimson eyes lingered as you passed in the hall, some staff member in tow as you listed off your preferences and plans for a gathering. The way his nostrils flared as he caught your scent. 

No, it slapped him across the face. Invaded his senses and had all four of his fists clenched.

He told himself you were just another woman. His wife, sure, but no different than any other concubine. But the way his hands itched to reach and grab you at the waist, rip your obi off and squeeze the soft curve instead, to pull you in and bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe so deep he’d never get your scent out of his sinuses.

The way he ached to have you sat on his lap taking every inch of him, to fill you until your belly swelled with his babies. Fucked his heir into you.

He’d never had the urge to breed before, and it was really fucking annoying. It made him feel like a fucking animal, and he hated it. 

Sure he sated animalistic needs, eating, fucking, killing. But they didn’t control him. 

Sukuna could level civilizations singlehandedly, raze villages to the ground and upheave the world just to toss it on its head. He was a warlord—no, the fucking warlord, and his pretty little wife had him tearing his own hair out. 

God, he needed to relax. This wasn’t him. He didn’t let emotions run his life, and he certainly didn't let people run his life.

Meanwhile you and your life carried on just the same. Ate dinner and sipped fine tea imported from the mountainous regions to the east, strolled the gardens full of fresh blooms and the low buzzing hum of cicadas, stripped free of your yukata with the help of your attendants and left to soak in the hot spring watching the sun set on the land. 

On your land. 

You supposed being married to the brute wasn't so bad after all. 

Steam rolled off the water, lifted by the light breeze that rustled leaves and set chimes twinkling. 

It was peace. You were exactly where you wanted to be, and certainly enjoyed it, but you couldn't deny you craved something just a little more. Something exciting. 

“B-but sir! Please, wait!” The shrill, panicked voice of an attendant rang out just outside the door into the onsen and you whipped your head around just in time to see it slide open with a bang!

And behold, your husband. 

Taking up nearly the entire doorway with nothing but a towel barely hanging on around his hips. So short the black rings inked on each thigh were visible.

It left you speechless, to see so much of him so bare. That he’d be brazen enough to walk right in on you so indecent. But you dipped quickly, putting your body underwater up to your neck and covering your breasts. 

“What do you think you're doing in here?” You lifted your chin, dignity intact even as you hunched to maintain a shred of modesty.

Sukuna froze in the entrance, ruby eyes wide and stuck on you for a long moment until he finally broke and stepped into the room.

“Bathing. I believe it was you that requested me to, no?” He quirked a brow, bare feet slapping the stone as he walked toward the steps into the water. 

The same attendant hurried in behind him, coming to crouch next to you. “Ma'am, your towel? Would you like to—” 

“Leave us,” Sukuna dismissed her without a look, halted and about to get in. 

You took the towel and muttered that you were fine, that she could go. She bowed low to you both and then that was it. You were alone. 

Well, alone with your husband. 

Who at least had the decency to go against tradition and leave the scrap of towel on and covering where thick black lines dipped low on his abdomen. 

You studied each other for a moment. Your hands cupping your breasts and his crossed over his chest and planted on his hips. 

You broke the stare first, turning to look out at the open scene and he started down the steps. He sank into the water and you watched from your periphery as he eased back, running a damp hand through his dusty pink mess of hair and rested two muscled arms on the stone ledge.

It was the first time you'd ever been alone with him, and you refused to look at him or speak first. 

“I despise how they hover.” Sukuna's gruff voice cut through the silence and you did not look at him as you retorted.

“That is their duty. An attendant would not be properly fulfilling their role if they were not present when needed.” 

Sukuna barked a laugh, “Well, you'd know all about that now, wouldn't you?” 

Your head snapped to the side and you looked him right in the eye with brows furrowed. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” 

“Don't act oblivious now.” He tch'd, casting his gaze out at the view instead of you. “Stupidity does not suit you.” 

You blinked. A few times. And despite the heat of the water, felt warmth race across your cheeks.

Was he really so callous?!

He caught your slight shock and smirked, “I assumed you'd be fleeing about now, is something the matter?” 

“I will not be bullied out of my evening soak.” You huffed.

“Bullied?” Sukuna scoffed, “You've had quite a soft upbringing if this constitutes bullying in your eyes.” He could see your face twist, fire flickering in your eyes as he prodded you and all he could think was finally. 

“You know nothing about me, so do not speak as if you do.” You almost sneered as you hissed it at him. Like he'd truly struck something.

And Sukuna was not one to back down when he struck a nerve.

“I know enough to know you're a sheltered, well mannered brat. If there is more than that, I have not seen it.” He said it like a challenge, like he was daring you to show him there was more.

He had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Sukuna was a brute, blood and dirt still under his dark fingernails from the havoc he likely wreaked just before coming to interrupt your evening.

So fast the water splashed the ledge, you snatched the towel and wrapped it around your body under the surface. It was flimsy and lewd, but better than your hands.

His eyes went wide, gripping the ledge as you rose to your feet. Waist deep in the water, the towel clung to your form and had him swallow visibly. 

“You seem to have certain expectations of me, does it upset you that I have not met them?” Your head cocked, taking a step forward.

Sukuna did not waver on the outside, simply sneered, “I am no stranger to disappointment.” 

Your eyes narrowed into a glare that threw daggers at him and god, he felt his heart skip a beat as you cut right back with, “Well, neither am I.”

The water rippled around you as you took step after step closer to him. “I never asked to be married off to the likes of you.” 

“That makes two of us.” He shot right back, rising to his feet as you drew close enough to look down at him, making you tilt your head back a bit to keep your eyes on his.

They betrayed you though and flickered to his chest, following the black lines that cut down his abdomen. Water dripping from his bare body, the tiny scrap of a towel heavy on his hips, soaked and clinging to his muscled thighs.

God, why did he have to look like that?

“Brute.”

Surely you'd be the death of him.

“Prude.” His brow lifted like a dare and you stepped right up to the challenge.

“Whore.” 

It surprised even you and as it left your lips you saw the shock hit Sukuna like a slap to the face. 

Too far?

“Why you little—” He snarled, grabbing you at the waist with one hand, nails pressing in enough to make you gasp as he brought his face close and held you in place. “You dare to speak to me like that?” 

“So all those women, you mean to tell me you keep them around for idle chatter? Please.” You scoffed and Sukuna lifted a brow, lips pulling into a slow smirk. 

“What’s this? Is the brat jealous?” 

You? Jealous? Pfft, ridiculous.

He wasn’t about to tell you that it had been weeks since he’d last even tried to be with another woman. That it disgusted him to even think of. That he couldn’t. 

But here you were, right here in his grasp, trembling a little but not pulling away. A crinkle to your nose like he just caught you red handed. And that certainly stirred something in him.

“You… your—” You stammered a little and his smirk split into a grin. Sharp and gleaming. He could feel your heart racing away under his grip. A clear of your throat and you refitted the blades in your gaze. “Clearly, your delusion knows no bounds.”

“You’d think it delusion that a woman would be jealous of another bringing pleasure to her man?” He hummed, grip softening on your waist slightly just to slide down to your hip. Your lips parted and he could see your thighs squeeze under the surface as he stepped closer. 

“Or maybe you like the thought.” He mused, so close you could feel the heat of his body and his breath on your skin as he laughed once, low and gruff. “Maybe you touch yourself at the thought of another woman bouncing on my cocks, screaming my name in ecstasy."

Wait… what?!

You had to have heard that wrong. Sure the brute had four arms but that would just be…

It took a moment to gather your thoughts and hiss a meek little, “Never.”

“Do you ever touch yourself?” He hummed again, dipping underwater to trace the edge of your towel, grazing bare skin and making you swallow. “Or are you too prudish for even that?” 

You could just shove him away and storm off. In fact, why weren’t you doing exactly that?

Heart racing, you could feel your pulse between your legs, squeezed together as your belly tightened. His eyes bored into you like he knew exactly what was happening. How traitorous your body had become. 

Lips parted and wavering, you hesitated to answer.

Sukuna Ryomen could always sense blood in the water, and he knew it was time to strike. 

He moved, his face coming down so close to yours, but still out of reach. Thick fingers dragging over the bare skin of your thigh, he pressed up between your legs and sent a jolt of lightning ripping up your spine. You yelped and gripped his arm with both hands, but he didn't move. Just held pressure and studied how your face twisted and flushed.

“Tell me to stop,” He said, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“S-s—ah! S… S-kuna,” You whimpered his name, clinging to his tattooed forearm. God he could feel you throbbing against his fingers and his cocks—already stiff, twitched. Ready to spear you on both and fill you with him until you sobbed. 

“Yes, brat?” 

You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut. What the hell was happening to you? “I… I can’t—”

“Look at the prude, coming undone and I haven't even done anything. Do you want more?” He rubbed a slow, tiny circle on your clit and your cunt clenched around nothing.

“Mmph—god,” You gasped, using his arm to support yourself. 

“Use your words, brat. Ask me nicely, and I’ll make you see stars.”

The way he spoke to you, shit… you must have been out of your fucking mind. Or so horny you could barely stand. Either way, you pried your eyes open and met his. 

“Please,” You whined, so filled with pressure you could hardly stand it and the word almost had him on his knees. 

“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers at him, that fire burning behind your pretty, glazed eyes. 

“Please,” You couldn’t believe the position you’d landed yourself in. You couldn’t believe just how good it felt… “Make me see stars.”

Restraint snapped with a low groan and his hands were on you. It was a blur and you could hardly keep track of how surrounded you felt. One slipping up into your hair, two squeezing down your sides and pulling at the towel—barely hanging on and about to give—

Ah, yep, there it goes. 

Hit the water with a wet plap and you were left fully exposed. 

His finger found your slick entrance and he pushed inside. Barely even half of it but your eyes went wide with how thick it was and you squeaked nonetheless, starting to protest but Sukuna shut you up.

He hefted you up like you were nothing, slotting your thighs around his hips and his own covering let go just the same as yours. 

God how he was dying to use you, feel you squeeze around him like you did his finger. But you weren’t quite ready for that yet.

So he pulled your hair, tilting your head back as he brought his mouth down on yours, lips pressing yours open and delving in with his tongue.

The sound you made into his mouth, tongue tangled with his as you gave in and let your hand thread up into his hair, nails dug into his bicep, it was lewd and perfect and exactly what he craved. 

“You're still a—ah—brute,” You panted between kisses, gasping as he squeezed your ass and spread your cheeks, grinding your bare pussy on his abdomen.

“You're leaking on me,” Sukuna growled, tugging harder at your hair. “Maybe you like that fact.” 

Before you could protest, something wet squished against your pussy. You jerked with a gasp and started to squirm, but Sukuna had you trapped in his grasp and wasn't exactly keen on letting you go. 

“Ah, you asked for this. Stars, remember?” 

“Wha-what is that?” Your voice pitched as he held you against the thing flicking up on your twitching clit.

It felt amazing, electricity shooting through your limbs with every movement, but it was foreign. Big but softer, unlike how his hand had been.

“You like it, don’t you? Like riding on my tongue?” He nipped at your lip like it was obvious. 

His tongue?

Your nose crinkled, “What are you—oh my—mmph!” His tongue thrust into your mouth again as his… uh… other tongue prodded at your hole. 

Sukuna groaned into your mouth, tasting you—all of you. Legs pinned wide open for the wet muscle to work its way inside. Slick hitting the tastebuds making his eyes roll.

God you tasted fucking good. One taste and he was surely addicted, just like he was to your scent.

The feeling of it squirming and exploring deeper, licking up into your gummy walls as sharp teeth grazed your clit, it had you keening and bucking in his arms. The stretch was unreal, and had you struggling to breathe.

“Fuck…” He rasped, pulling back to watch as you writhed, brows knit and bitten lips pushed out in a sweet little pout. You looked perfect, you felt perfect, walls pulsing around the length squelching in and out. 

He was fucking you with it, and you were on the verge, ready to explode from a white hot pressure filling your belly. Shit… this had to be a sin of some kind.

Sukuna tugged your hair, leaning you back and supporting your weight to give you both a full view of how he stretched you out. “Look at that. Poor little pussy can barely handle the whole thing.” He thrust that tongue in deep and curled and you cried out. 

“Oh god! I-I can't—” 

“Do it,” He commanded and whatever was holding the dam back, broke. Head thrown back, your chest heaved with a strangled noise erupting as you spasmed, nails raking down his arms. 

As slick leaked into his maw, trembling in Sukuna’s grip as he groaned with the feeling, the taste of you coming undone, your fuzzy mind went…

Stars… 

As you rode the last waves, he pulled out of your twitching pussy, giving your clit a flick and humming a laugh when you jolted. 

“Well, where did all that attitude go? Speechless already, brat?” He mocked, watching your lashes flutter and eyes struggle to focus into a glare. On fire with a flush that raced across your cheeks and chest. 

“Pu-put me down you fiend.” You huffed and pushed weakly at his chest and Sukuna barked a laugh. Grinning wicked and feral with gleaming canines and your tummy clenched all over again.

“No-no, I’m not done with you.” Your knees hit the hard stone as Sukuna sat back on the ledge, thighs spread over his, letting your weight drop into his lap and right onto his cocks, pushing your hips back to grind you against the thick lengths. The feeling had you choke on air and despite thinking he would destroy you if he stuck one in, god forbid both, your cunt throbbed and you were painfully aware of how empty you felt. 

“Not even close, wife.”

cruel blue loomed over you, slithered like his grin as he bucked a little firmer. "oh, please baby? please?"

"please— toru! please, wan' . . . want your dick, please."

he could never deny you for too long. not when you batted those damp lashes and big eyes at him. so remember— it's your fault.

your fault when he's got you folded with strong palms squeezing on the fat of your thighs. legs dangled. body trembling, jaw slack and eyes rolled back with every wet, hot, shlap! echoed.

it's your fault that his cock bullied you. fucking deep into every gummy spot until tears poured down your flushed face and drool leaked from swollen lips. it's your fault that you're gushing, slicking your thighs and splashing it back on him.

"yeah sweetheart?" he's still above you, fucked-out laughter and cruel grins galore. bending you further until he was flushed into your bouncing tits and weighing your trembling thighs. "still want more? yeah? my pretty girl's just a stupid slut huh?"

oh he was always so sooo mean once he got you under him. he lived for the cute, clumsy nods, the teary eyes, your hands struggling to hold onto his biceps or down his shoulder blades.

"toru," so sweetly, you croak. "toru— toru 'm cummin'." and that's when your legs are tossed over his shoulders. that's when his hands cradled your ass and squeezed tight, that's when he's pounding your pussy like he hated it. crooning above you still.

"yeaahh that's it, cream me baby. lay it on me pretty girl." how sweetly he kissed you, lovingly, as if he's not stuffing you to the brim and fucking your sweetspot until you squirt. crying and messy and clinging onto his hair for dear life.

"torruuuu," you whimpered. he shallowed. milking you for all you're worth with feral bucks and huffed.

"my good girl. my pretty lil' baby." as he peppered your face with tender kisses.

˖ 𑣲 Master gaslighter ᝰ.ᐟ✧ G. Suguru

he can't help but be mean to his perfect girl. suguru's a rough lover. he enjoyed tossing you around, manhandling you, bringing pretty tears to your eyes. but with you batting those same, big, gorgeous eyes at him— he almost felt a bit bad.

keyword: almost.

you were just too good for him, just too compliant, and he loved every second of it; but it made him want to be a bit mean to you. see how far he could push you. break you down and build you back up.

maybe that's why you're almost always in his lap. cockwarming? riding? two big factors in your sex life.

the first is for bullying. he knew you wanted nothing more than to listen to him— so surely you could do just that while he was ball's deep, throbbing into a sweetspot and finishing up some paperwork, right?

suguru's veins and tip throbbed into every perfect crevice. weeding out any logic or conscious. the stretch he gaped you poor pussy with drove your mind to heat and need. and when he'd 'accidentally' lean over to grab something, he'd brush just right over that devastating bundle of nerves.

"sugu," you whined, squirming. only to whimper when a rough hand squished your thigh.

"what did I say, princess?" his voice dropped, you shivered, stilled. then pouted.

"sugu," you attempted, softer. "please? really need it . . ."

"then you can wait, can't you?" he gruffed in your ear. "thought you were a good girl?" he chastised, paired with a sharp spank to your ass. the bastard bit back a grin while you whimpered and nodded.

don't worry, he'll start fucking you messy with the most sugar-coated degradation soon enough. two fingers swirling your clit while his other hand snatched your jaw.

"some good girl. can't even sit fuckin' still while I'm finishing up urgent work. so selfish." as he fucked you into rough bounces, barely holding on, seeing stars as he pounds out yet another creamy orgasm.

intense degradation comes with the second option: riding. now, that was for pure cruelty.

because suguru knew he was too big for you. he knew you struggled to ride him. still, he'd lean back, acting sooo tired from a long day while your hips stuttered on him.

"is that the best you've got, princess?" his disappointed sigh sent shivers. you clung to his shoulders and tried to find a steady rhythm. sinking and stroking, pathetically bucking and squeezing helplessly.

"please," you sniffled, thighs trembling from several unaccomplished orgasms and sheer embarrassment. "please, please help, sugu, I can't." with those big teary eyes that put puppies to shame.

suguru would only sigh deeper, limp his head back and cup your ass with both hands. the roll of his eyes brought more tears to yours.

"just gotta do everything for you, don't I baby?" as his hips easily thrust up. bouncing you into a rapid rhythm while bringing you down. spraying your slick and fucking your poor pussy into desperate, slutty squeezes. "suuuchhh a pitiful slut, can't even get herself off huh?"

you squeaked when he starts ramming on a sweetspot, pelvis nudging your clit and grinding it so agonisingly sweet.

"m-mhhm! mhhm!"

"say it," he huffed. "what are you?"

"s-sugu's pit - pitiful slut." you whined.

he smiled, knocking you down onto him with arms wrapped tight and hips slapping ripples across your plush ass. "that's it. there's my good girl."

˖ 𑣲 Addicted to your pleasure ᝰ.ᐟ✧ I. Shoko

she always had an obsession for your pleasure, it's only amplified with how complacent and needy you are for her. it made her job all the more easier. she wished to pleasure and worship, not brat tame. her job was stressful enough. with you? she just wanted to unwind.

you're like the perfect little present waiting for her back home. she tasted you on her late-night cigarette, her true addiction of soft thighs and pretty eyes. she felt your softness on her palms as she washed them for yet another surgery.

how she adored laying you back onto the bed. kissing you so tiredly, sweetly, then mouthing down your neck, squeezing along your breasts. your sounds. that, was her true addiction.

"missed you so much, sho." you're too sweet for her black coffee heart. too soft for her hands stained in blood as they stroked on your needy cunt through nightgown.

"missed you too, doll," she breathed into your neck. "so much. wanna make my girl feel so good."

and she did. shoko was a pleasure seeker. your pleasure? she dug for it like treasure troves. with her lips that scoured every inch of your skin. with her hands that searched for the comfort only your body could give her.

your shudders were the key. she was getting close. soon, she'd be slotted between your legs. cunts flushed and wet against each other and she rocked down into you with memorised rhythm. just the way you liked it. the same way that had your eyes squeezing and lips trembling.

"shoko . . . oh god." there's that whine. x marked the spot. she squished on the thigh held in her hand and weighed her hips down further. rocking with a purpose. searching for your clit and moaning when it caught on hers.

"mmm, that feel good doll?" she fanned your ear with her whisper, then kissed it. she nestled into your pussy, angled just right, and bit her lip when your throbs fluttered into her.

your noises were what she needed. what fuelled her hips into an almost cruel rock as she pinned you down. sucking on your tits till they glistened and swelled, grinding her clit on yours until your moans joined and she swallowed them with her tongue.

"sooo perfect, so perfect for me. pretty girl— fuck," she shuddered when your moans pitched. your hands buried into her brunette strands while she shakily smoothed over yours.

she crooked down to suck on your tit again as she firmed her thrusts. your sloppy pussies met, wet and needy. the kind of friction that had you both gushing into each other.

"such a pretty girl, with the prettiest pussy." she chased your high, chased your moans, ground and humped until you spilled slick, messed her up and called her name to the heavens.

addicted, that's what she was. you were always so pliant, and she couldn't help but fall into you every time. hooked on your pleasure and pretty eyes. strung on those soft thighs.

˖ 𑣲 Reverently obsessed ᝰ.ᐟ✧ R. Sukuna

so obedient and submissive for your king? as you should be. there's something so enthralling about having a lover who wants nothing more than to worship you. your praise is your devotion, and sukuna cannot be any more pleased with your selfless surrender to him.

it's something in the way you fall into him. vulnerable and so entirely his. how eager you are to obey his every command. oh, it put him on an all-time high. you looked at him as he deserved to be beheld. listened to his every command. delighted in it, even.

but while he was your king, sukuna worshipped you for this trait more than anything.

your obedience was a turn-on, and you were his idol. splayed out in his lap with your clothing strewn. your lips on his, down his neck, shivering into his hands. just the way he liked it.

you sat on your throne, his lap, while he lazed on his. he'd guide you, as any good king would. pressing your desperate heat into his crotch and bucking enough to echo your moans through the hall.

"such a precious girl," he'd drawl into your ear. four hands lathering your skin in the treasures of his devotion. two cupped your breast, the other pair cradled your ass.

you took both his cocks like it was your sworn duty. open, ready, needing him. your head hung back and eyes teary, lips parted. your songs of sin pleasing his ears as he rocked you into him. hard, and slow, and with equal parts reverence and roughness.

"touch yourself, sweet thing." were one face of his orders. sukuna adored commanding you around while he made your pleasure his duty. fucking your quivered slit open while you spilled all over his throne. "touch yourself. give me a show."

and you listened. of course you did. sweet, submissive you with your clumsy fingers circling your clit. your tits jutting out into his face, because you knew he loved sucking on them.

he does. face buried in your breasts as he quickened his pace. eager to paint his throne white and stain it with your juices.

"there we go. touch yourself. fuck yourself on your king." he'd lean back only to take in the sight. you were beautiful, a perfect canvas of sin as you struggled but still tried to appease.

"touch me," it sounded like a beg more than a command. you took it as absolute law. your hands looped behind his neck, bunching on pink strands as you angled your hips. coming down on him with whines and pitched moans.

"cumming - I'm cumming," you cried.

"cum for me. mess your king's cock." you obliged. blissfully, beautifully. in every way he loved you for.

˖ 𑣲 Teaser, pleaser ᝰ.ᐟ✧ T. Yuki

you're her precious angel and she's ready to give you everything your heart desires with a single bat of your pretty lashes.

how could she possibly deny a pretty lil' thing like you? she caved the second your hands ventured into her hair. the moment she heard your quiet little pleas. you always begged so prettily. she was none the better.

she adored how obediently you humped on her thighs. all she did was give a faux sigh, a little, "you can do better than that, can't you sweetie?" and you're fumbling to grind faster, whimper the softest apologies.

maybe she's a little mean. but only because you're so adorable. laid out, wet, for her. just her.

you cried so prettily around her mouth. bucked pathetically into her kisses laved over your trembled slit. oh, she nearly lost it when you'd part your lips and gawked down at her with those trembling, pleading eyes.

"hmm? I'm all ears baby."

"please, yuki?"

that's all she needed. her tongue obeyed. sure, you were the submissive, but her body conceded all the same. circling your clit like it was her damned right. sucking on it while she fucked you full of two fingers. to the knuckle, crooked into a sweetspot whenever you whimpered enough.

"eyes on me. want you to watch me eat this pussy out." she parted with slick strings strewn to her lip. you obeyed, shyly, but just as eager.

her grin flushed you further. her wink made your knees weak. "there's my favourite girl. hands in my hair too baby. take your pleasure."

she's at it again. tongue dragging sin over your slit, sucking on your folds, fucking you on the pink muscle. she groaned into your fluttered slit. drowned in your gushing pussy.

soon your thighs were bundled into her strong arms. pinned, helpless to the mess of her spit and voracious mouth. she couldn't decide between sucking on your clit or devouring your pussy. so she alternated between both.

"my girl. yeah, my perfect fuckin' girl." she slurred into you. nudging her head into your hands fisting her hair. "keep those gorgeous eyes on me. fuck. want you to look while you cum on my tongue."

she fucked you through it. cradled you thighs and worshipped your pussy while her tongue spelled nothing but sin. and when you're coming down? shivering from her sloppy kisses lathered up your slit?

she grinned, crooned even. "not done yet. can be a good girl and give me another, huh?"

"what the fuck." you mumbled to yourself, thumbs slipping under the cloth of the newly bought panties you're now wearing. most of your ass were practically out, the panties doing anything, but actually covering you as you turn your back towards the mirror to look at yourself. "did it shrink on the way home or what?" you question, a frown etching on your face when you move your hands down to cup the leftovers of your ass.

"now, what do we have here?" rafe whistled, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist as he look at you with a knowing look on his face. instead of going along with his teasing, you ended up getting annoyed, the day getting worse by the second for you. "i think they got the wrong measurements for my size or something, i don't know!" you huffed angrily, a pout tugging on your lips as you look over towards him.

he held his hands out in defense, surprised by your sudden outburst as he walk over towards you. "i'm sure that this is solvable." he muttered, a hand cupping the back of your head pulling you against him, making you bury your face into his bare chest with his free hand going to wrap you up in a hug as he comforts you.

"let me see," he removes the hand on the back of your head as he reaches out for the untouched panties sitting on the vanity chair that are in the same set as the one you're wearing. he chuckled to himself when he sees the tagging on them, and you remove yourself so fast from his hold, offended. "why are you laughing?" you pushes at his chest although he doesn't budge, making you even more pissed than you already are.

"baby, you got the wrong size. it's a size smaller than you normally wear," he was laughing now, showing you the tags as he shook his head when you practically ripped them away from his hands. "but i took them from the rack—" you cut yourself off, letting out a breath of annoyance as you threw them back on the vanity chair.

rafe was still laughing, amused by the way you're actually pissed over a small mistake. he thought that you actually look cute this way—all grumpy and pouty—and it only made his smile bigger than it already is. he reaches out for you then, a hand cupping your cheek as the other went down to your arm to soothe the skin there in a way to calm you down. "take a deep breath for me, baby." he demonstrate, urging you to follow him as you do what he says.

"it's not that serious, yeah? you didn't do anything wrong," he assures you, thumb moving against your cheek making your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. "but i had a long day running errands, and i thought that i did something useful by actually getting everything done on my list in a day just for this to happen." you were rambling now, telling him the thing that's actually stressing you out. he didn't say anything then, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he listens.

and when you were finally done, you let out a sigh of relief, feeling like a weight has been lifted from your chest after telling him everything that's been bothering you the whole day. "you did something useful today, you always do. it's just an honest mistake, okay? it's not your fault they weren't doing their job right," he cooed, tilting his head to the side to look at you better.

you huffed again, "now i feel bad because we're blaming them for my mistake." as you bury your face back into his bare chest, arms snacking around him to pull him closer. he lets out a soft laugh at that, shaking his head at your antiques before making eye contact with the mirror that's facing the two of you—specifically your ass that's practically out—an idea coming up to his mind.

"well," he drags the word out as his hands that were wrapped around you are now moving down to cup your uncovered skin. "i don't actually mind seeing you like this every once in a while." he said it almost too proudly, the smirk on his face telling you more than words can explain as you pushes him away, again. he faked hurt then, a hand coming up to his chest after you had harshly pushed him away although it did nothing to him.

"seriously, rafe?" you call out, a smile threatening to tug on your lips as you look away from him, crossing your arms against your chest, "you're a freak." but it only made him smile wider, pulling you back in with both his hands on your waist.

he nudges his nose with yours, "yeah, but i'm your freak." before leaning in to kiss you, hands not staying long on your waist as they make their way down to cup your exposed ass.

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you stop him before he can start. “How are you, baby? How was your day?”

He doesn’t answer, just walks toward you. Your hands dive back into the sink, scrubbing the next dish harder, faster in a feeble attempt to appear busy.

He wraps his arms around your body from behind, his large hands settling over yours before gently guiding you to set the dish back down in the sink.

One by one he pulls the rubber gloves off your hands. Your arms fall around your waist as he hugs you tightly from behind, tucking his face into the crook of your neck.

“Slow down, baby. You’re alright,” he murmurs softly against your neck, pressing a slow kiss there.

“Mom!” Winnie shouts suddenly from the top of the staircase. “When’s the pizza getting here?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Rafe beats you to it. “Soon,” he calls, vague enough for her to nod and walk away—vague enough that you could get away without admitting you forgot, but the way your shoulders fall in defeat after you hear her question tells Rafe everything he needs to know.

He hugs you closer still, nuzzling his face in your neck again, breathing deep. “Bad day, baby?” He mumbles.

“Work was… this. Just everything.” You gesture to the house as Rory and Poppy run across the wet, sandy mess Max left behind, slipping and falling to their bums, giggling it off before starting up again.

“I get it, baby, I’m sorry,” he soothes.

Your cheek melts against him as his arms tighten around you.

“I’m gonna get Max and those shitheads to clean up this mess, dishes too—the twins and I will go get the pizzas, and you… You go do whatever’s gonna make you feel good for the meantime, alright?”

“Rafe, I—”

“Yes, sir,” he chuckles softly as he kisses your cheek playfully. “That’s the only thing you should be sayin’ to me, pretty. No excuses.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, a small laugh slipping out of you despite the tears. “Really… I’m okay,” you whisper.

“You had a bad day,” he says gently, turning you into his chest. “This is the least I can do, baby—let me do it.”

You nod as he cups your cheeks, tilting down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Boat’s outta gas,” you sigh, trying not to laugh but Rafe’s already scoffing like he expected no less—like he’s tired but he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Of course it is. Story of our fuckin’ life, huh?”

“Mhmm…”

“You got plans for tomorrow?” He whispers as he pulls you close, letting his forehead rest against yours.

“Nothing,” you smile, your voice still trembling a little.

“Perfect,” he hums. “Gonna fill up that goddamn boat… Get you your favorite meal—some drinks. And we can just sit. Silence. Sunset. You and me.”

“I’d love that,” you sigh.

“Mmm… I love you, baby,” he hums, leaning down to meet your lips again.

“I love you too.”

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