“No, I have a boyfriend. Sorry,” you replied stiffly, watching the group of boys grumble and hit each other before strolling off.

When you turned to look at Inumaki, he had his eyes closed facing the sky. You walked over to him, tapping his foot.

“Hm,” he grunted in acknowledgment.

“Toge,” you said with a smirk. “I know you saw that.”

He silently flicked his sunglasses over his nose, covering his eyes and causing you to laugh and lightly slap his chest. “You’re such a child, Toge. Did you think I was going to say yes or something?”

Silence.

You lean down and press a kiss against his abdomen, watching the muscles twitch underneath your touch. Then you lean over and press your lips firmly against his, breasts pressing into his chest and threatening to spill out of the skimpy material. His hand finally lifts, resting on your waist as you pull back.

“Salmon,” he hums gently. “Tuna mayo.”

You run your nails down his torso, watching his body shiver as you trailed lower and lower. “You’ve been touchy all day.” Your fingers trail over the waistband of his swimming shorts. “It’s been to keep everyone away, hasn’t it?” You flash him a grin. “You’re hot when you’re protective and jealous.”

He pushes his sunglasses back over his hair and looks up at you from where he’s still laying down.

“Cavier,” he grumbles.

You roll your eyes. “I presume you’re swearing at the boys and not me.”

“Salmon.”

“Good. Otherwise I would’ve gone and actually given them my number.”

Inumakis hand slips lower and grips your ass. Hard.

“Just teasing.” You press another kiss to his lips. “You’ll always be my…” you hesitate. “…alpha.”

He grins at that, laughing when he sees your disgusted expression at what you just said. “Salmon,” he agrees.

The second incident happened at the arcade. A date that the two of you had planned for weeks.

The world was a blur around the two of you as you focused purely on each other, making out in the photobooth machine, hogging the basketball machine, stealing all the balls at the bowling alley from the little kids and claiming they were lucky.

“Toge! Please can we play pool?” You ask as you already begin dragging him towards the empty pool table.

As you pay for it at the counter, hand the worker the money and walk back with your little coin to start the game, a group of boys walks past, not even bothering to look at your eyes before staring straight at your low-cut top.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice as you lightly jogged over to your boyfriend. He wrapped a protective arm around your waist as you pressed a kiss against his cheek.

As you leaned down to grab the sticks, your breasts jutted out from your top, the soft flesh looking ever so tempting to Inumaki who was trying to focus on anything else.

Except, every time you’d lean over the table to hit the balls, he wasn’t able to tear his eyes away. Every touch and graze against his arm set him alight, making his thoughts more clouded… and more lustful.

When you finally won, you spun with a squeal of glee to brag. However, he was clearly distracted, zoned out and staring down at his hands which were gripping the stick firmly.

“Toge? Are you okay?” You asked, reaching out to graze your fingers against his knuckles. “You- oh.” When you glanced down, you saw the very obvious problem. In his trousers.

You gaped at him as he nervously glanced at you. “Toge, you are such a horny freak!” You whisper-yelled with uncontrollable laughter.

Placing the sticks down, you quickly drag him into a gender-neutral toilet and push him up against the wall. He pulls in a sharp breath as you grope him through his jeans, unzipping them and unbuckling his belt.

His cock sprang free, flushed head leaking pre-cum as it throbbed in your hand. You rub your thumb over the slit, smearing the pre-cum around his base.

Quiet moans slipped from Inumaki’s mouth as you started moving your hand up and down, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“I can’t believe you got a boner in the middle of the arcade,” you tease with a giggle, making his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink.

“Mmm- caviar,” he groans out when your hand speeds up, the thap thap noise getting louder as he covers his mouth with his hand, eyes finally opening and immediately straying down to your chest, breasts jiggling with your quick hand movements.

You watch him intently, how he’s completely fixated. Without giving it much thought, you reach back and untie the strings holding the top together, letting it fall and expose your bra underneath, providing a much better view for your boyfriend.

You giggle again as he whimpers, one hand shooting to your hip and squeezing roughly, not so slyly slipping it down to your ass to cop a feel.

He comes unexpectedly, head tipping back against the cold wall and emitting a loud whimper, biting his lip to hold back the sounds.

Once you manage to clean up, Toge ties your top up again with relentless teasing. “You really like my breasts, huh?” You smirk.

He pulls his phone out from his pocket, quickly typing something on his notes.

I’m sorry. But they are fucking gorgeous.

You laugh, head tipping to rest on his chest. “Don’t apologise. They love the attention.”

More typing.

do THEY love the attention or do YOU love the attention

“Hmm. Both.”

He laughed, pushing his phone into his pocket again. “Salmon.”

“You’re welcome.”

The tiles around you gleamed white in the stark light, cool and clinical beneath the squeak of your shoes when you came to a halt before a great door at the end of the hall. The primary cause of your currently throbbing headache - and the very reason you were onsite at the facility instead of snoozing the weekend away - was standing in the assessment room like a marble centerpiece when you finally entered.

It was a decently sized space, big frosted windows at the rear which usually allowed a soft light to filter through, making the clinical lab feel just a little bit warmer. Now it just felt stark, the hulking silhouette of your patient blocking out the light like the moon during an eclipse, like a black hole.

He was as intimidating as ever, broad form backlit by the sun leaking through the windows behind him. Wide planes of thick rippled muscle dotted with spatters of silky orange and black dappled hair. He was entirely nude where he stood in the middle of the room aside from a collar cinched around his throat. The accessory looked heavy - a solid loop of dark buttery leather, green light flashing dimly in the center like a pulse.

He stood upright with perfect posture. His spine tugged up straight as an arrow, big hands folded behind his back, though he wasn’t restrained by any physical means. He showed no signs of unease or discomfort at his lack of attire, in fact he was the very picture of control - showing you just a slip of the lazy disciplined strength you knew was simmering below the surface of his striped skin.

His expression didn’t shift when he caught sight of you, but his ears did perk up ever so slightly - brilliant orange discs swiveled toward the doorway where you stood. His nose twitched once, chin lifting to sniff the air.

“Well.” He finally greeted, voice a low sultry purr as his head dropped back to a relaxed position. “If it isn’t my favorite little doctor.”

You made a pointed effort to ignore the nude hybrid, all seven foot of him, as you entered the room and tugged the door closed behind you. It clicked shut with a resounding finality that prickled the fine hair along your arms, goosebumps tickling beneath your pristine doctor’s coat.

His maroon eyes followed your movement as you crossed the floor. The rope of his tail twitching with a lazy interest where it lay along the tiles behind him, the only part of him moving - writhing like a great striped python.

“You aren’t even a little afraid I’ll pounce on you?” He asked, voice thick with teasing. “Foregoing restraints is rather bold, doc.”

You blinked at him and lifted a hand from your crisp white coat pocket, shaking the remote control clutched between your fingers. A green light pulsed at the tip in time with the dim little light embedded in his collar. His lightly amused expression soured as he watched your thumb tease over the big blue button in the center, and he spat a little at the sight, at the promise of sharp pain it represented.

“Right then.” You breathed, and to your relief your voice came out strong and calm in the cool air. “Your previous buyer invoked an early return for…”

You hummed idly, tapping a pen to your lower lip as you squinted at the clipboard before you flipped the page over and gazed up at him over the edge of your lenses.

“…Performance issues.”

His tail swished over the tile in a great flash of orange, brows and nose crinkled in what you were sure was a badly concealed snarl. His biceps twitched as he shuffled in place, clearly itching to move from his docile position.

It was hard to imagine him of all creatures having any issue performing. You’d seen those muscled limbs in action; thick toned thighs, arms, big hands - grabbing, pinning, breaking. It was easy to picture them in other more… primal scenarios. The ease by which he could wrangle someone to the floor and crowd over them. Threaten them with those mammoth teeth of his, those razor sharp claws, and take whatever it was that he wanted.

You cleared your throat in an action that you hoped read as casual.

“The client has requested further tests be run, and if possible, a sample to be analyzed to assess their suspected virility issues.”

“Virility issues…” He echoed, spitting as if the very words tasted bitter on his tongue.

“So strap me into that ridiculous machine of yours then and get it over with already.” He grumbled, and you could all but see the way he was prickling - seething under the blatant accusations of him being anything other than a perfect apex specimen.

You’d been privy to it once, early in Sukuna’s domestication when he’d still been liable to take someone’s finger off. A requirement of all test subjects was to assess their reproductive capacity, so after being restrained heavily and drugged up for good measure, he’d been placed in a state of the art milking machine.

You couldn’t deny the raw reaction you’d had to watching that usually sharp predatory expression of his turn dumb and docile as the machine worked him. That handsome jaw gone slack, drooling around teeth that could gnaw a limb off with ease. Watching the way he’d jerked against the restraints, licked and bit mindlessly at the mouth guard like it was the nape of some pretty little thing he had mounted. Brain melted and utterly drunk on the raw pleasure of it, lost in a fantasy behind his eyelids.

The sight of it, the obscene sounds of him grunting and moaning like he was really breeding something warm and alive beneath him, not being stroked by man made machinery. Muscles in his broad back twitching as he hunched over, tugging wildly against the restraints. It had stirred to life a sticky and entirely unprofessional heat low in your belly. One that had you opening one too many private browser windows that night in the comfort of your home office. Spending a few too many hours researching tiger hybrid procreation habits. Pretending the thick thighs in the demonstration videos were banded in black, pretending that it was flaming pink hair dipped between the raw bitten shoulders of the hybrids poor partner.

“As satisfying a sight it would be to watch that machine suck the life out of you again, the client has requested a more…” You trailed off. “Human approach for this test.”

He raised a pink brow at you, head tilted as his lips spread into a sly grin. He looked at you darkly then - like he knew exactly what you’d done the last time you’d both been in this predicament. Like he knew precisely what had been lingering in your browser history before you’d cleared it away in a blaze of hot shame just as the sun began to lick the horizon, bleary eyed and guilty as a sinner in the light of day.

“What, you gonna bend over and tug up that sweet little uniform? Let me-“

His words were cut short by his own strangled grunt as your thumb dug into the big blue button on your remote. Despite the intensity of the electric currents biting into his throat, he didn’t move, not really. He didn’t snarl or snap or bite like he would have before his training. Instead he simply huffed a sharp exhale through flared nostrils, jaw clenched tight against what you were sure was a decently painful jolt.

“I really don’t enjoy having to use the shock collar Sukuna, so be good - okay?”

He muttered something untoward under his breath, face still scrunched into a scowl. But nonetheless he relaxed back into his previous position and allowed you to continue, gazing down at you with an unimpressed, lightly irritated expression from his place in the center of the floor.

Without another word you continued into the room, tugging a lone chair from behind the small desk along the tiles until it rested in front of him. He peered down at you as you took the seat, maroon glimmering with a thinly veiled interest. His gaze flickered to watch the way your thighs pressed flat over the little plastic seat, and then at the tools you had prepared now sitting in your lap - an audio recorder, a clicker, a little plastic liquids container, and the familiar shine of the shock collar remote.

You swallowed, squirming a little under his undivided attention. You busied yourself instead by tugging a thin blue glove onto your hand, pointedly avoiding the sight of his sharp jaw above you, or the angled curve of his abs sitting at eye level not two feet from your face, rising in time with his relaxed breaths. Despite your seasoned career it was still difficult to feign nonchalance, to hide the instinctual fear that came with being alone in a room with an unrestrained apex hybrid - relying only on your own conditioning training and his fair-weather desires.

With a sharp ‘snap!’ you finished tugging the glove onto your hand, and flexed your fingers beneath the blue latex to test the fit. Satisfied, you cleared your throat.

“Alright. Let’s begin.”

Reaching down, you clicked the ‘on’ button on the little recording device sitting atop the clipboard in your lap and watched the red light flash a few times before you began speaking.

“Subject is Ryomen Sukuna, apex class Panthera Tigris hybrid. Standing at 7’3” tall, weighing 350 pounds.”

Your voice rang clear and uninterrupted into the crisp air of the room.

“The purpose of today’s test is to address reported issues with performance after subject was unable to meet breeding requirements while in private care.”

You noted, carefully avoiding use of the word ‘captivity’. You took a breath, eyes roaming his body slowly, meticulously cataloging the curves and angles of his physique through a pointed lens of professional curiosity, or so you feigned.

“The subject is in acceptable physical condition. Appears outwardly healthy and in active shape.”

Using the word ‘ripped’ would be entirely unprofessional, though not at all inaccurate. Sukuna was a brick wall of heavy, beefy muscles that were more for function than for looks - though he admittedly didn’t lack in either department. It was the kind of physique gleaned from using your body how nature had intended. From stalking, wrestling, taking down prey. From biting and pinning and slicing - indulging in every bloody morsel until you were fat and drunk on the taste.

“As recorded in the previous on-boarding document, the subject is above average size for his type and class…” You cleared your throat a little, eyes roaming down to take in the sight of him, hanging soft and heavy between his toned thighs, nestled between tufts of pink and blazing orange. “…In all regards.”

Your eyes flicked up just in time to catch his proud little smirk, which quickly turned to a scowl and a snarled yelp when your hand lifted and you pinched at his bare hip with gloved fingers.

“Subject responds as expected to pain stimuli.” You noted casually, peering up at him with a smirk that you were sure edged the boundaries of professional.

He scoffed in response, though his tongue darted out almost imperceptibly to wet his lower lip, and when you peered back down to continue your assessment you found that he was half hard.

“Subject is showing signs of initial arousal despite lack of physical stimulation. A positive sign in regard to the clients concerns.” You added, voice a touch rougher than before, faced with the reality of the task you were about to undertake.

To Sukuna’s credit, he gave no reply. No sly taunt or scoff, he simply watched you squirm below him with a lazy, pleased sort of expression painting his handsome features.

With a slow exhale, you lifted your non-gloved hand and reached into the breast pocket of your coat, fishing out a little bottle of lube. Unscrewing the lid, you deposited a few generous drops into your cupped palm, rubbing your fingers to spread the gel evenly.

“Proceeding with sample collection.”

You started slow, latex clad fingers wrapped gently around his base, tracing the thick black bands striped there, pinky nuzzling at the little pink tufts of hair. You blinked a few times, struck with the dizzying realization that your fingertips didn’t touch when you attempted to close your fist around him, not even close.

As expected, his hips jerked a little when your wrist finally began to move, working up and down his length in slow strokes until you felt him harden in your grip. You could feel your face beginning to heat despite yourself. Something hot and unnamed creeping up your throat as your thumb traced a thick vein from his base to the tip and you squeezed experimentally before resuming your steady milking rhythm. He made a satisfied sound above you, a rumble from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Subject is responding positively to initial physical stimulation.” Came your slightly shaky commentary, interrupting the slick sounds of your glove moving over his length.

“Course I am.” He grunted. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

You eyed the recorder, and spoke your reply in a low practiced voice.

“No? Then why did the buyer return you?”

He was surprisingly still despite the effort of your arm, expression entirely unperturbed aside from the barest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks and the very tips of his fuzzy ears.

“You don’t seem so disappointed, doc.” He replied flatly. “I can see you pressing your thighs together under that little apron. Don’t try to deny it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You bit back, voice a little sharper now, and your spare hand palmed slowly along your lap until your fingers found the smooth shape of the shock remote.

It had been a long and grueling process to even somewhat domesticate a predator like Sukuna with any measure of success. And though his body may have been broken enough to have him standing unrestrained in this room with you without too much trouble, you’d never quite managed to tame that filthy tongue of his. His attention was searing - pupils blown wide and dark, blistering as a tongue laving your skin as he pinned you under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“You got any idea the kinda pheromones you’re putting out right now? I can pretty much taste you.”

Annoyance burned hot in your chest, not because of his blatant disrespect for your authority, but because his words were true. Your thighs clenched tight and trembling beneath your clipboard, spurred by the sticky sweet heat swirling in your belly. It was in his nature as a hybrid to be observant, even more so of beings he determined to be prey, which to your reluctance happened to include humans, namely you.

“Getting nice and wet just from touching me like this, huh?” He tutted, shaking his head a little. “For shame, doc.”

“Enough.” You snapped, brows knitted in unfiltered frustration.

He grinned, wide and toothy, and licked his lips when your stroke quickened, fist tightening as a result of your simmering irritation.

“Right, sure.” He continued, unashamed, lips still tugged into that animal grin. “I’ll pretend like I didn’t get soft the minute I saw that last buyers face, and you can pretend you don’t get off stroking my ‘larger than average’ cock-“

Without warning a sharp buzz cut his sentence short, and he was silent for a moment, face contorted into a pained hiss.

“Fuck.” He finally grunted after a few moments, watching your thumb slide away from the blue plastic button.

You knew the pain of the shock collar first hand, having made a point to trial the sensation before you’d integrated it into your training program. It was a hot kind of pain, sharp and sizzling - like touching a live wire. Sukuna was panting lightly as he recovered, eyes low-lidded and hazy. You imagined that his frazzled brain was likely fighting between the residual pain of the shock collar, and the sweet slide of your hand moving tight and hot over his length. A confusing cocktail of sensations.

“I’d love to use this fuckin' collar on you.” He hissed through gritted teeth, words angry and a little slurred, and you didn’t miss the way he started to move then - thick hips rutting up ever so slightly to meet the momentum of your fist. “You’d be crying by the first shock - sobbing, drooling, fucking begging me to-“

Again, the sharp buzzing sounded, accented once more by his stuttered growl.

“Describe what you feel, Sukuna.” You continued smoothly despite the way your heart was thumping, blood pounding hotly in your ears. He scoffed, a sharp raw sound.

“I feel you fisting my dic-“

He jolted with the impact of the next shock, but this time instead of anger his expression was a little detached in the wake of the buzz. Angled lines softened as he panted, breaths coming heavier now, more ragged. He watched your hand move through his lashes, dimly noting the way your glove was turning slippery, blue latex coated and sticky with his pre.

“Tell me properly now, how does it feel? Me touching you like this?” You prompted again.

Through the slick latex you felt him throb, a heavy kick against your fingers. A rosy pink flush dusted his plump chest, each of his labored breaths accented with a soft little animal grunt.

“Feels good.” He finally managed, and you realized then that beneath the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the obscene slick sounds of your stroking, there was a deep satisfied purring.

Your spare hand moved along your lap, discarding the shock remote in favor of the smooth clicker. His half-lidded eyes flicked up to follow the motion of your hand as you raised the tool and pressed it once with a dull little ‘click’.

His body jolted instantly in response as if he’d been shocked again, and he stuttered out a whiny little noise from deep in his throat. Per the training, you were sure that the simple clicking sound had a flood of pleasure hormones washing over him, and mixed with the sensation of your curling wrist it was sure to be dizzying.

Indulgently, you thumbed at the tip - blushed dark and shining wet with milky beads. You smeared the pre bubbling there along his length, fist clenching tightly on each upstroke until he was panting feebly above you, hulking shoulders curled inward and eyes lowered to watch you shamelessly pump his cock.

“That’s it.” You cooed sweetly. “You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You had a nagging little feeling that your commentary was crossing professional lines, and you were absolutely sure that this wasn’t the intended application of his clicker training. But nonetheless, when he nodded in reply you pressed the clicker again, and you swore he honest to god shivered in response this time. His jaw had long since gone slack, pink lashes fluttering as his eyes rolled, his pleasured purr rumbling ever louder.

His cock was drooling now, hot and twitching between your fingers. Weeping thick sticky ribbons over your knuckles, turning your tight strokes sloppy.

“That’s my good boy. You want to help me make you feel good, right?”

He nodded limply, and his hips thrust frantically up into your grip when you clicked the button again. He moaned then, a weaker sound than you think you’d ever heard from him. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he were drooling too as he chuffed, open mouthed, sand-papery tongue laid flat and poking out from between his sharp canines.

It was hard to see what the buyer had been referring to. If this is how he was behaving after just a little lube and your mediocre fist, he’d surely have had no problem performing with another living breathing hybrid.

“I’m not seeing any issues here at all. Just needed a little cup to finish into, is that it Sukuna?” You teased, but when you lifted your head his eyes weren’t on the little plastic dish. Instead they were locked on your face, watching you with such a lazy and unashamed pleasure that you felt the fine hairs on your neck prickle.

He shook his head, the action slow and lumbering as if his skull were just too heavy to move with any grace. You hesitated for a breath, thumb hovering over the pad of the clicker, though you didn’t move to pick up the shock remote instead.

“No?” You questioned, clinical facade fading a little in the wake of your genuine curiosity. “Why did the buyer return you then?”

“Because I didn’t want any of the meek little dolls they tossed at me.” He growled. “Couldn’t even -hah- pretend to get hard when they were mewling and whining under me so shamelessly.”

He looked at you then like he were a man starved, eyes burning hot as coals, dark and hungry. He nudged his hips, causing your eyes to flick down and take in the sight of him - flushed dark and angry against the cool blue of your stained gloves. Slick was smeared up the pink curls at his base, over the curve of his abs, over the veins, thick and protruding, that were running down to his throbbing length.

“Look what you did to me with your little clicker and your sweet fucking scent...” He groaned, nose twitching as he sucked in another slow inhale, tongue poking out like he could taste it. “Scrambled my fuckin’ brain doc, all I can think about ‘s you…”

Your stroke stuttered, but a rumbled growl from his throat was warning enough for you to quickly resume your rhythmic pace. You watched him with wide eyes, lips pouted into a shocked little ‘o’ as you considered the weight of his words.

“If we were outside I’d take you properly.” He continued, eyes low and a little dazed, utterly lost in the fantasy he was painting for you. “I’d have you arched and presenting for me down in the dirt like a proper mate.”

You bit the inside of your cheek against your own instinctive urge to whine. Instead choosing to run your tongue over your lips. He was watching you, and the moment the muscle slipped out, pink and wet over your lower lip, he cursed.

“Yeah. You’d let me wouldn’t you, doc? Let me spread you open and mount you? Breed you?”

It was then that you felt something brush your leg, and you peered down to see his tail coiling around your shin, teasing down to pet at your ankle. Your mind drifted back to those godforsaken demonstration videos, the way the dominant male would wrap his tail around his partners thigh right before…

His cock twitched in your hand, once, twice.

A few more slick strokes and he was painting the front of your apron with a ragged growl, and it took a few heaping spurts before you remembered to force your arm down - shoving the tip of him into the little plastic test cup in your other hand.

He tossed his head back, the long line of his throat flushed and bobbing as he swallowed between breathy groans. He came in harsh throbs, balls and abs clenching in a tight pulsing rhythm. You’re not sure you’d ever seen so much cum - measured level rising more and more with each thick heaping spurt as you held the tip of him to the cup, still milking his length in a slow tight stroke.

“Shit!-“

You made a sharp surprised sound when - to your utter amazement - he filled the container, and then some. Before you could react cum had dribbled over the edge and begun to pitter-patter over the cool white tile at your feet. A few rogue droplets stained the clipboard in your lap as you shifted frantically, and without thought you lifted your arm, arrested by the sole goal of protecting the tools still in your lap. The result was a stray spurt shot over your awestruck face.

You sputtered, professional mask utterly shattered, and released him from your grasp. You recoiled, shuffling back until your shoulders hit the spine of the chair behind you. You could feel his spend spattered over your forehead, your cheeks, dribbling over your parted lips and down to your throat between the spread of your shirt collar. The only small blessing was that your glasses had stopped him from painting your lashes with a sticky pearly string alongside the rest of you.

When you’d finally recovered enough to meet his eyes, they were dark and sharp again, filled with a familiar predatory hunger, and to your surprise he snarled at you - flashing rows of sharp pearly white teeth. The shock button lay sticky and useless in your lap, and you made no move to grasp it.

He was grinning wide and lazy, cock still twitching slow drooling spurts onto the floor where you’d released it in your shock. The room was silent aside from his slow panting and the occasional tap of his spend dripping onto the clinical tile below.

“How’s that for virility, doc?” Came his vicious taunt.

You blinked a few times at him through the smear of cum staining your lenses, before you slipped them off and palmed blindly until the recorder slipped into your sticky grip. The little red light was still pulsing, and with a shaky arm you lifted the mic to your lips, thumbing at a rogue smear there with your spare hand.

“S-subject appears to be functioning within acceptable parameters. No sign of reported performance issues witnessed during the session.”

Sukuna ran his sandpapered tongue over his lips, as if an animal licking his chops after a satisfying kill. You felt the tip of his tail brush your skin, still petting leisurely at your ankle like he’d claimed something. The contact was searing.

In something of a daze, you thought about the best methods for redacting sections of the audio report. Hell, at this point maybe you’d just destroy the recording entirely. At least then you might be able to salvage your job, write the lack of recording off as incompetence rather than gross abuse of power.

“End report.”

‘Click!’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He can’t finish, but suddenly when you’re there he’s got no issues… right… right….

“Brat.”

Now that gave you pause.

You lay frozen in the dark, blinking wildly at the shadowed bulk on the couch opposite you, trembling hand still tucked into your slick panties. Maybe you’d imagined it, the gruff, familiar voice of your best friend curling out from the darkness.

But Sukuna wasn’t stupid, it wouldn’t have taken a detective to figure out what you were doing. Not with all the frantic breathing and the half muffled moans barely caught by the damp fabric of your pillow.

“Sorry,” you swallowed a thick, dry breath before you continued, “just needed to… uh…”

The lump on the sofa across from you began to shift, and you realised as your eyes slowly adjusted that he was rising to his feet, slipping free from the sheets with a low groan and a few muted cracks.

You followed suit, pulling yourself to your elbows before a sharp and disappointed tut made you stop.

“Stay where you are,” came the short command, “don’t move.”

After a moment of pause, you acquiesced and settled back onto your belly, arms outstretched to clutch your pillow beneath your chin.

Sukuna approached without another word, a broad shadow eclipsing your vision until you felt the delicate thrum of fingers dancing along your lower back.

“Hips up.”

Your pulse raced, that familiar sticky heat licking up your neck at the sternness of his tone. When you complied, he shoved a pillow beneath your hipbones, forcing your spine into a severe arch.

“Good.”

Thick fingers hooked over your waistband, tugging your sleep shorts down with little effort. You shivered against the cool kiss of air for only a moment before you were blanketed by his body heat as he settled into place behind you. There was the barely audible shuffle of clothing in the still silence before you felt him - the grind of thick inches pressed against you, hard and raw.

“Deep breath,” he murmured, waiting to hear the shaky pull of air from your lips before he finally nudged inside.

He sunk in slowly, let you map each pulsing vein stretching your tight heat until you felt the delicate tickle of hair at his base, and your eyes rolled back.

“Oh… S’kuna…” you breathed, a whiny little exhale slurred where your cheek was pressed against the pillow.

He hit deep like this, so deep that with each breath you could feel him poking incessantly at what could have been your stomach for all you knew. It was stunning, enough to make your thighs tremble and a spineless little moan escape you.

He gave no reply, just slipped out a few dizzying inches before pressing back inside with a wet sucking slap. He set a steady pace, not rushed or particularly delicate - firm and intentional, just like everything he did.

“Don’t know why you insist on touching yourself like that,” he grunted, head craned so that you could feel the puff of his breath against your sweat-soaked nape with each accusatory syllable, “when you’ve got a perfectly good cock right here.”

As if to prove his point, his thrusts slowed - firm deep pumps pulled all the way out only to sink back inside with a force that pulled a broken little sound from your throat.

His voice was low and serious, still thick with sleep as he worked you open with the practised roll of his hips. The weight of his words sent a little tremor of need through you, and you heard him curse when you clenched around his length.

“Didn’t -hn-… want to wake you…” you panted, tongue slipping on the words as your brain gave in to the fuzzy haze of pleasure beginning to settle over you.

Each nudge earned a sticky slap, heavy balls smacking against your creamy cunt as he took you apart, fucked you into the couch in a mean prone bone.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s yours,” He grunted, hips pressed snug into a mean grind that had little blinking stars dancing in the blackness behind your eyes. “So use it, whenever you want.”

His bluntness, alongside the kiss of his cockhead against your cervix made you writhe desperately, tenfold when with the next rock of his hips you felt the slick sheen of the leather sofa graze your tender clit.

Your brain was foggy, swirling with obscene images of waltzing into his room whenever you pleased, tugging down his sweats and settling down onto his fat cock like you belonged there, using him like a toy who’s only purpose was to get you off.

“You… hn-… you mean it?” You sniffled, cheek smushed to the side just to throw a desperate glance over your shoulder.

“Fuck, of course I do,” he growled, breaths coming a little frantic now, “I’ve said it before haven’t I? My hands, my mouth, my fucking thigh if you want.”

Knuckles dug into the couch cushions either side of your head, and his lips grazed your throat, the shell of your ear, the delicate hair curling at the nape of your neck.

“So I don’t want to see you touching this needy little pussy again. No toys, no fingers, no humping the goddamn pillow, got it?”

You buried your face between your arms and nodded limply, sinking into the sheets, feeling less and less lucid with each targeted buck.

“I’ve already had her four times,” Sukuna grunted, “the brats insatiable.”

Toji snorted mid sip of water, eyes leaving the couch to instead peer through the half opened doorway to the bedroom, where he managed to catch only a glimpse of your bare leg through the crack. From the looks of it you were naked - splayed over the sheets, hair probably still a little damp from the shower, skin lacquered with lotion, half washed away with sweat by now.

“What, she ovulating or something?” Toji wondered aloud, lowering the bottle to once again catch Sukuna’s gaze over the metal rim.

The other man crossed his arms unceremoniously across his chest, and Toji watched the tendons jump in the winding muscle of his forearms as he shrugged.

“That or she’s in heat, damn near milked me dry.” He grumbled, brows knitted, working a mean line between them. If you were here you’d reprimand him for such an expression, crawl over the couch and run your thumb between his salmon brows until the lines wore smooth, or until Sukuna grew bored and wrapped a hand around your wrist to flip you onto the cushions instead.

Toji laughed then, the sound rough and graveled like tattered velvet.

“Seriously?” He scoffed, lips spread into a sly grin as he licked stray droplets from them, “had to tap out did ya’ Ryomen?”

Sukuna’s scowl only deepened, soured now with genuine irritation.

“Just be grateful I wore her out for you,” he spat, “and watch your tone, or it’ll be you spread eagle and whining for more cock next, Fushiguro.”

Toji chuckled again as he screwed the lid of his bottle on tight, the motion accented with a metallic ‘squeak!’ before he tossed it toward Sukuna, hard enough that he heard the fleshy impact when the other man’s hand shot out to catch it.

“Yeah yeah,” he mused, moving past the couch to instead push through the bedroom door, which creaked beneath the effort, “drink some fuckin’ water and get outta my way.”

If he were being honest, when he’d left for the gym that morning he’d been hoping for this exact scenario. Toji knew you - or at least your cycle - well enough to know that you’d wake up needy and leaking, and he knew Sukuna well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to resist the sight of you humping his thigh like a dog in heat for very long. So he’d left without a word just as the sun kissed the horizon, and he’d been half hard in his sweats since his second rep just thinking about it.

If the living room was warm, the air within the bedroom was stifling. But it wasn’t the heat or the sticky sweet scent that knocked the air from Toji’s lungs on entry, no. It was the sight of you - limbs splayed over the mattress, hair messed and wild where your head was tucked between the pillows. Your jaw lifted back far enough to expose the long column of your throat, giving Toji a stellar view of the dark sucking marks peppered there, indents of teeth that he was sure would melt into bruises by the evening.

Toji took in the sight indulgently - paused in the doorway, a lone hand already trailing its way down the curve of his stomach, teasing until his fingers curled over the bulge forming there. He squeezed once and shivered, reveling in the immediate relief that sizzled over his body like a splash of ice water.

He could feel the weight of Sukuna’s gaze piercing into the back of his skull like the promise of a snipers sight. He didn’t indulge the urge to peer over his shoulder and meet that heated gaze, instead he let his hand drop to his side and pressed a knee into the mattress.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak or even open your eyes when he crawled over the sheets, crowding your space like a panther sliding atop its snagged prey.

His hand met the curve of your waist, skin soft and warm beneath his palm, layer of sweat sticking you lightly to him. He trailed one hand downward over the curve of your belly, the other grazed feather-soft over the slopes of your breasts, pausing to pinch gently at either nipple, perked and willing in his hands.

“You’re soaked sweetheart,” he mused when his fingers finally dipped between your thighs, which gave way to him easily, spreading to make room for his forearm to slot between. He moved slowly, palming soft and teasing over your mound and listening to you mumble mindlessly below him.

You whined something unintelligible in reply, voice nothing but a high pitched whimper, crackled like shattered glass.

With a chuckle, he leaned down and craned his head until his ear rested level with your mouth.

“What’s that sweetheart?” He questioned, head tilted to listen.

You swallowed, hard and dry, and licked your lips before you spoke again. Another croaked string of words hit his ear, a touch clearer this time. He realized then that you weren’t mumbling gibberish at all, you were begging.

“More, more, need more, please ‘kuna, please jus’ one more…”

Toji chuckled and lifted his head back to study you again - he found your eyes still closed, brows now knitted into an expression that was decidedly desperate.

“Old Ryo’ couldn’t keep up, huh?” He mused, hands lifted from your body to instead press into the mattress either side of your head, leveraging the weight of him as he slotted himself properly between your thighs.

You offered a gentle huff in reply, eyelids feeling much too heavy to bother opening. Your limbs felt numb, tingling with residual little sizzles of pleasure.

“Don’t worry doll, ‘m here now.”

Toji didn’t waste time working you open or teasing you with the brush of his lips or gentle caresses, no. He simply slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it sideways. His thumb hooked over his waistband, tugged down to let his length spring free and slap hard and raw against you.

The sensation was enough to have his lips parting around a shuddered breath. You felt like heaven - like slick molten silk kissing each bumped ridge as he rutted through your swollen folds. You jolted when he shifted, hard inches rubbing over your clit, still singing with over stimulation.

He grinned and lowered a thumb to pet at your entrance, leaking slick and dribbles of what he was sure was Sukuna’s spend. He traced your rim beneath the head of his cock slowly, smearing the milky little pearls gathered there and wondering just how many loads Sukuna had managed to stuff inside you before he’d finally tapped out. The thought made his breath catch, and sent another sizzle of heat straight to his throbbing cock.

“C’mon, look at me now,” Toji cooed, watching the way any semblance of coherency on your face melted away when he finally pressed down, sinking inside with a single dizzying press of his hips - testament to just how soaked and used you really were.

It was enough to make your eyes roll behind your lids, fluttering with the delicious sting of being stretched open again. Toji treated you with shallow little thrusts. The hair at his base tickling your clit, thick veins pulsing against your rubbed raw walls where Sukuna had pounded you until you cried, until you bruised. And yet despite the pain, the ache - that needling little bud of desire still burned just as hotly as when you’d first awoken that day, stoking the fire in your belly and dribbling lava hot between your aching thighs.

“Oh, oh…” you moaned dumbly, lashes twitching as you finally lifted them and tried to blink away the layer of hazy film that had settled there. Your mind felt fuzzy, vacant. Drunk on the sensation of being stuffed utterly full once again.

“There she is,” Toji soothed.

“‘Ji, it’s you…” came your delayed greeting, nothing more than a breathy whine, “need’t cum, need to cum again, please…”

“Again?” Toji echoed in faux surprise, hips lowing to a torturous roll, “that’s a little greedy of you, don’t you think?”

“Incredibly greedy,” a distant voice interrupted, flat and deep and utterly serious.

Toji tilted his head back just enough to catch sight of Sukuna’s broad form filling the doorway, looking more like the hired security than someone who actually lived there. Toji peered through strands of ink black hair at the big hand that was beginning to dip beneath the waistband of Sukuna’s sweats, palming lazily at the considerable bulge there. Sukuna’s gaze was equally heavy and heated, lowered past the curve of Toji’s spine to track the way your hole was stretching around his thickness.

Toji swallowed, took a final glance at the sight of Sukuna beginning to work his length free from his boxers. His eyes stuck on the exposed slip of tan skin where Sukuna had tugged his shirt upward, the spatter of hair dusted there, before he turned his attention back to you.

“Haven’t even asked how my day was yet, and here you are begging me to make this needy pussy cum,” Toji teased, “and after Ryo’ took such good care of you too.”

“Please,” you cried, shaking your head furiously against the damp pillows crumpled either side of you, “please don’t tease me.”

“Aw I’m sorry sweetheart,” Toji cooed, voice dripping thick with mock concern, “you just need it real bad, huh?”

The delicate shallow thrusts he had been nursing you with suddenly shifted, turned to long pulls smacked back inside hard enough that you felt the tip of him kiss somewhere deep and delicate. Each buck had your legs quivering, and a sharp little shock of pain and pleasure in equal measure sizzling over your skin.

You were lucid enough only to know that he was moving, slow methodical thrusts that felt achingly tender. Each twitch of his worked muscle was purposeful, each motion entirely controlled and aimed to break you apart.

“Shh, just feel it. You feel me, right baby? Nice ‘n deep.” The words were sin incarnate, purred right into your ear.

You were nodding before you could think, slurring a string of unintelligible words alongside breathy cries of his name, strung together like a prayer.

“Deep… deeper…”

The scent of him was intoxicating, dizzying. The sharp sting of fresh sweat and his own familiar woody musk was enough to have you lifting your trembling legs just to hook a heel over his hip and tug him closer.

“Finally knocked all the brains outta you, huh?” Toji teased, “That’s alright, don’t need to think. Just keep squeezin’ this pretty little pussy around me, yeah?”

One of your hands fled the sheets to instead grasp at one of Toji’s bare shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there.

“Kiss me,” you panted, blinking up at him with wide wet eyes, blown black and glossy with need, “oh, hng-… please Toji…”

Toji didn’t bother with a reply, instead he simply dipped his head and captured your lips in a kiss so sudden you barely had the wherewithal to suck in a lungful of air before he was swiping any lingering thoughts away with the hot slide of his tongue.

You melted into the touch, letting the roll of his jaw guide your movements - moaning in surprise when his teeth nipped at your cracked lower lip, your grip on his shoulder tightening when his tongue met yours.

When you finally split apart you were sufficiently softened by the blend of his sweet kisses and the steady rock of his hips, brain humming quietly like the static of a tv set to a dead channel.

“Good?” Toji questioned, head tilting.

You just nodded, struggling to keep you gaze affixed on the inky strands of hair slipping over Toji’s forehead, that was until a sudden blur of colour crept into the edge of your vision.

“Oi, what are you?-…”

You watched, motion a little delayed, as Sukuna’s hand slid across the back of Toji’s neck. Toji’s eyes widened an inch, looking genuinely shocked for just a moment before Sukuna’s grip tightened, firm hand forcing his head upward until they finally met in a rough crashing of lips.

Peering up you simply watched, entranced, at the slide of pink tongue between sticky sweet flutters of your lashes. Eyes caught on the way Toji’s brows lifted and his hips stuttered just a little when Sukuna’s hand tightened into a fist at his nape, strands of silky black hair sticking wayward through his thick fingers.

Toji grunted into the kiss, rougher now - a tumble of teeth and tongue in stark contrast to the slow rhythm of the embrace you had shared. One of Toji’s hands curled over your hip, thumb mindlessly tracing the bone there. The other found Sukuna’s chest, grasping a handful of fabric before he was shoving the other man backwards.

You watched a glittering thread of spit link them for a moment before it split, and you must have clenched at the obscene sight because Toji made a choked sound above you, falling into the sensation a little like he were suddenly made of jelly.

“Fuck sweetheart,” he panted, lips glossed as he dug a fist into the mattress beside your head, “that’s it, just like that.”

His thrusts didn’t slow or soften, but they felt sloppier somehow, and when you blinked upward you realized why. Sukuna had stepped in behind Toji, plump chest pressed to his back, massive hand still curled around his nape, thumb rubbing soothing little shapes there. His head turned inward, lips pressed to the delicate little strip behind Toji’s ear, breathing so close you could see the speckle of goosebumps begin to prickle over Toji’s skin.

“C’mon Fushiguro,” Sukuna purred, quiet enough that you could barely hear the sweet syrupy words, “don’t get soft on me now.”

Dazed, you watched Sukuna raise a spare hand to his lips, thumb pressed against tongue beneath the glint of pearly canines before he reached past Toji’s hips and tucked it between your thighs. You jerked at the sudden contact, the searing heat of his slick thumb, calloused and rough and perfect against your abused clit.

“Bastard…” Toji gritted, breaths coming ragged now, panting between barely masked grunts of pleasure as his head dipped beneath the weight of the palm at his nape. His gaze was glassy, glued to where you were clamping around him, where your slick was painting the dark curls at his belly white.

Sukuna only grinned in reply, and you could hear the lazy glee lacing his tone with his next words, thumb still rolling over your twitching nub as you writhed beneath his touch.

“Go on now,” he rumbled, low and filthy over the shell of Toji’s ear, and you swore you felt Toji twitch in response. “make the pretty girl cum.”

You could feel it, the looming buzz of your orgasm, curling like the crest of a wave, hot and tight in your belly like the slow cinching of a knot.

“Close ‘ji…’m close,” you slurred, “gonna… hn!- ‘m gonna…”

“I’m right here sweetheart,” Toji was groaning now, shivering a little as the hand at his nape tightened once more. His thrusts were wild - wide sloppy pumps driven haphazardly into the slick mess between your thighs. Sukuna’s thumb continued its assault, drawing steady heart shapes over your clit, right above where Toji was busy splitting you open.

“C’mon princess,” Toji pleaded, words accented with a kicking throb that you felt all the way in your gut, “give it to me.”

You let your eyelids fall shut, squeezed tightly against the way your vision was beginning to blur at the edges. Senses dulled, sounds and scents becoming more and more distant with each second of rising pleasure until suddenly the knot snapped, and you were unraveling along with it.

Toji cursed somewhere beyond the numbed blackness of your senses, and alongside it you felt a flood of heat and the familiar twitching pulse of him as he filled you. Firm hands gripped your waist like an anchor, holding you in place as you squirmed against his final stuttered humps, wracked with unending wave after wave of white hot pleasure.

“Shh, that’s it, that’s a good girl…” Toji was cooing into your ear, forehead pressed to the pillow, only hair tickling your cheek.

The words were a salve, a balm smoothed over your mind until all that was left was the honeyed buzz of pleasure.

You sucked in a shaky breath and realized along with it that you were crying, cheeks soaked and salted with fresh tears. You let your limbs fall, limp and exhausted against the sheets. A subtle ache was beginning to settle in your muscles, in your bones, and yet beneath it all you still felt it - that itch deep inside, like an unending, desirous pit.

“More…” you croaked, voice utterly broken despite your pleading.

Toji scoffed somewhere above you - sounding equal parts shocked and proud at your incessant appetite. You heard the distant thump of approaching footfalls, followed by the telltale creak of a knee digging into the mattress before the bed was dipping beneath a considerable weight, and you felt Toji slip out with a slick sucking sound.

“Move Fushiguro, think I just got my second wind.”

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