lil’ Devil

You sneak through the front door at 2:47 AM with your heels in one hand and your purse in the other, moving as if tiptoeing might actually work on the hardwood floor.

It doesn't.

"Fun night?"

You freeze.

Sylus is on the couch in the dark living room, illuminated only by the glow of his phone. With his legs stretched out and ankles crossed on the coffee table, he looks entirely too awake for someone you had planned on being asleep at this hour.

“Dad…you're awake,” you say, as if maybe he hasn't noticed.

"I am." He locks his phone and sets it on the armrest. “Daddy went to bed at eleven. He thinks you're at Tara's."

"I was at Tara's."

"Tara posted her location at a house party three hours ago. You're in the background of two of her stories.” He tilts his head. "You're also wearing significantly less clothing than you left the house in, which suggests a wardrobe change at some point between 'quiet girl’s night in’ and…whatever we’re calling this."

You look down at yourself—dressed in a crop top and miniskirt, yoga pants stuffed in your bag, sparkling with glitter on your collarbones that definitely had no part of a quiet girl’s night in.

"Okay," you concede. "Fine. I went out. And it was fun and I'm fine and I'm home now and Daddy doesn't need to know because it would just—he'd worry, and there's nothing to worry about, and—"

"You're rambling, sweetie.”

"I'm explaining."

"You're rambling while explaining." Sylus swings his legs off the coffee table and stands, crossing to where you're frozen in the entryway. He smells like the sandalwood candle he burns when he reads, and his hair is pushed back like he's been running his hands through it. "I'm not going to tell him."

The relief hits you so hard your shoulders drop three inches. "Really?"

"One condition." He holds up a finger. "A kiss."

Your heart does something fast and stupid, which is ridiculous, because you’ve kissed your Dad on the cheek a thousand times over the years. Maybe it’s because it’s a little too late at night, or maybe you’re a little too drunk, or maybe you're a little too old to be kissing him on the cheek. A little too aware of what kissing could mean and what it could lead to, if two people wanted to take it there.

You want to take it there so desperately you could scream.

You've imagined it—both Sylus and Zayne—in ways you don't let yourself think about in the daylight. In ways that are inappropriate and filthy and wrong, because they’re the closest thing you have ever had to family, your guardians, your protectors, the only two men in this world who put you above all else without a second thought. Because they’ve sacrificed so much just to keep you healthy and happy and safe under their roof when you had nowhere else to go. Because they’re more than twice your age and see you as their little girl, not a woman who desires to be desired by them.

But this isn't anything inappropriate or filthy or wrong, is it? This is Sylus being Sylus, teasing and transactional, the same way he bargains for the last slice of pizza and negotiates who does the dishes and operates an entire criminal enterprise.

He turns his face to the side and taps his cheek.

"Right here, kitten. Quick and painless."

You roll your eyes, go up on your toes, and lean in.

What happens next is a logistical error. A catastrophic failure of geometry and physics and biology and every other branch of science and mathematics known to man. The angle is wrong, or you overcorrect, or he shifts at the last second—you'll never be sure which. But your mouth lands on the corner of his, half cheek and half lip, and for one suspended heartbeat neither of you moves.

His lips are warm and softer than you expected.

You pull back fast. "Sorry. Missed."

"Did you,” he says flatly. His expression gives nothing away.

"Bad aim. I've been drinking."

"Clearly." He studies you for a moment longer, scanning your face like he can see right through it, then steps aside. "Go to bed. Drink water. I didn't see anything."

You pad down the hallway on unsteady legs, and you fall asleep convincing yourself the heat in your face is from the alcohol and nothing else at all.

On a quiet morning two weeks later, you knock Zayne's stethoscope off his desk while reaching for a pen, and it hits the floor with a sound that makes your entire body go cold.

You pick it up. The diaphragm is fine. The tubing is fine. The earpieces are—

One of the earpieces is bent. Visibly, undeniably bent, at an angle that has no chance of escaping Zayne’s attention.

"Oh no," you whisper. "Oh no, no, no."

"What'd you break this time, sweetie?”

You spin. Sylus is leaning in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing." You shove the stethoscope behind your back. "Go away."

Striding to where you stand, he reaches around you with one long arm and plucks it from your hands. He examines the bent earpiece and whistles, low and almost impressed.

“Daddy’s going to be upset,” he says.

"I know."

"That's his good one. The one he uses at home."

"I know."

"The one he specifically asked both of us not to—"

“Dad. I’m aware." You grab for it, but he holds it above your head because he's insufferable and a foot taller than you. "Please. Can you fix it?"

"I could." He lowers it, turning the bent earpiece between his fingers. "But it would never sit right. He'd notice."

"Then don't tell him. I'll replace it. I'll order the exact same one and swap it out before he—"

"One kiss."

Your stomach flips so fast it nearly takes the rest of you with it. You tilt your head back to look at him properly. To see if he means it.

He towers above you in a soft black t-shirt, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair messy from sleep. It’s a painfully ordinary sight, one you've seen almost every morning for the better part of your life. Though from this angle, burdened by the knowledge that his lips feel tender and warm beneath yours, your body reacts as if familiarity has only made the sight more dangerous.

You go up on your toes and will the butterflies out of your throat.

"Fine,” you sigh.

He turns his cheek to you again, the same way he did last time.

You aim for the cheek. You land on the corner of his mouth. Again. Except this time your lips linger for a full second before you pull away, and this time you don't have alcohol to blame for the placement.

"Missed again," he says.

"Must be a depth perception issue."

"Must be."

He holds your gaze for a second, jaw flexing so faintly you’d miss it if you weren’t looking for just that—any sort of tell that signals he’s affected, too. That the want isn’t one-sided, that he lies awake at night, too, and thinks about the girl asleep down the hall and the pressure of her mouth and her breath mixed with his and what her tongue might taste like if he dared to kiss you the way fathers aren’t supposed to kiss their daughters.

Then he bends the earpiece back into shape with his bare hands—one quick, easy adjustment, like it had never truly been a problem at all, like he’d known that from the start—and sets the stethoscope back on the desk.

"Fixed," he says. "Our secret."

He leaves the office. You stand there for a long time, pressing your fingers to the corner of your mouth where it still feels electric.

Our secret.

The third time comes a few weeks later. It’s Sylus’s turn to drive you to school, and you come down the hallway in a dress that could start a war.

He's waiting by the front door, keys in hand, and when he sees you, his hand stills midway to his pocket. His eyes track up your bare legs, to the hem of your dress—which is ambitious—to the neckline—which is more ambitious—and back up to your face.

"No," he says.

"You haven't even said hi."

"Hi. No."

“Dad, please. It's Tara's birthday. She specifically requested—"

"I don't care what Tara requested. You're going to get a dress code violation, and Daddy is going to lose his mind, and I'm going to be the one who let you leave the house like this, which makes me an accessory to the crime.” He pulls out his wallet. "How much?"

"Excuse me?"

"To change." He starts pulling out bills, counting them onto the hall table. “Five hundred to swap the dress. Another five if you pick something with sleeves."

You watch him stack cash on the table like he's negotiating a hostage release. It's so ridiculous you almost laugh, except the earnestness underneath it is doing something to your chest that laughter can't quite cover.

You take the money, fold it neatly, and tuck it into the side pocket of your backpack.

Then you don't move.

“We had a deal," he says.

"There is no deal. I'm keeping the money. And the dress."

He pinches the bridge of his nose with a dark laugh. ”You're impossible."

"I'm resourceful. I might even say I learned from the best.” You lean against the wall, examining your nails like this conversation bores you. "But I could be persuaded to change. For the right price."

“Kitten.” His eyes narrow. "I just gave you a thousand dollars."

You tilt your chin up, faking a confidence you don’t entirely feel. “I don't want money."

The hallway gets very quiet, so quiet you can hear the hum of the refrigerator and your own heartbeat too loud in your ears and nothing else.

"What do you want?" Sylus asks, and his voice has dropped to a depth you've never heard him use with you before.

“One kiss."

The request drains the air from the room.

Sylus doesn't move, or smirk, or deflect with humor or a nickname or any of the things he usually reaches for when things get uncomfortable. He just looks at you—really looks, with those crimson eyes that miss nothing—and you watch him understand that the game has changed. That you’re attempting to rewrite the rules.

And that he’s going to let you.

"You want me to kiss you," he says. "And in exchange, you'll change the dress."

"That's the offer. Take it or leave it.”

"And if I leave it?”

"Then I walk into first period looking like this, and when Daddy gets a call from the principal, you get to explain that you let me.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but it’s not a smile. It’s something closer to resignation, or surrender, or maybe the recognition that he's been outplayed by someone half his size.

He crosses the hallway in two steps, takes your face in both hands, and kisses you.

On the mouth. Fully, unmistakably, on the mouth.

His lips are tender and firm and unhurried, and his thumbs press into the hollows beneath your cheekbones, and for three seconds the entire world narrows to the pressure of his mouth against yours and the faint sound he makes in the back of his throat that he almost certainly doesn't know you can hear but that you will replay in the darkness of your bedroom for the rest of your life.

He pulls back. His hands drop to your shoulders and give them a squeeze. A totally normal, totally fatherly squeeze that is completely at odds with the heat in his eyes.

"Go change," he says, voice rough. And turns you toward the hallway.

You go to your room and change into something with sleeves, and your hands shake the entire drive to school.

As time passes, it becomes a secret language.

Not one either of you acknowledges in daylight. But a language all the same, one spoken only in hallways and doorways and the kitchen after midnight, existing in the gray space between what men you call Dad are allowed to do to you and what they aren’t.

You eat the last of Zayne's leftovers one night. Sylus catches you scraping the container into the trash, your eyes wide and guilty, his narrowed and amused.

You don't even have to say it anymore. He just tilts his head, and you just lean in, and the kiss lands on his mouth like it was always going to.

This one lasts long enough that his hand comes up to rest against the side of your neck, thumb settling over your pulse, and when you pull back, his eyes are closed.

"You have to stop eating his food," he murmurs.

"Make me."

His eyes open. Something in them sparks, but he just shakes his head and walks away, and you stand in the kitchen with your heart hammering and the taste of him still on your lips.

Then there's the Sunday you use Zayne's favorite mug without asking—the handmade ceramic one from that conference in Kyoto—and you bring it to Sylus like an offering, holding it up between both hands with practiced innocence written all over your face.

"I washed it already," you say. “You won’t tell him, right, Dad?”

Sylus takes the mug from you, sets it on the counter, and pulls you in by your wrist. This kiss is slower, more intentional than any of the others. His other hand rests at your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. Your hand flattens against his chest, and beneath your palm you can feel his heart going faster than his face would ever suggest.

When you break apart, you're both breathing harder than the moment should warrant.

“Sweetie, we can't keep—" he starts.

The front door opens.

You spring apart so fast you knock the mug off the counter. Sylus catches it one-handed with reflexes that border on supernatural, and by the time Zayne rounds the corner with grocery bags, the two of you are standing four feet apart, Sylus pretending to drink casually from the mug and you examining the inside of the refrigerator like it contains the secrets of the universe.

"Everything alright?" Zayne asks, setting the bags on the counter.

"Fine," you say, into the refrigerator.

"Wonderful," Sylus says, into the mug.

Zayne’s eyes move between the two of you in that investigative way that makes him impossible to fool, yet somehow never quite catches this.

He nods once, then starts unpacking the groceries.

That night, lying in bed, you press your fingers to your mouth and trace the kiss that still lives there. In the room down the hall, Sylus is doing something similar, or you imagine he is, or you hope he is, and the hope is what you cling to day after day after day.

It's a Thursday. Zayne has a late shift. And you’re running out of excuses.

The apartment is dim and still in the way it only can be when it's just you and Sylus, illuminated only by a few candles, a vinyl record humming a soft jazz melody by the window. You stand in the hallway and work up the nerve for something you've been thinking about for days, or weeks, or months—or years, if you’re really being honest with yourself.

Sylus is stretched across the couch, reading with one arm behind his head. He's in a white t-shirt and flannel sleep pants and looks unfairly handsome for someone doing absolutely nothing.

You take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, pull your knees up, and stare at the blank TV screen.

“I used some of Daddy’s favorite tea this morning.”

Sylus turns a page. "Did you."

"By accident. I grabbed the wrong one."

"Mm."

"He'll be able to tell. He always notices."

"He will."

You pick at a thread on the couch cushion. "So."

He doesn't look up from his book, but the corner of his mouth curves upward. "So."

"If you could just...not mention it."

He turns another page, still not looking at you, still giving you the space to close the distance yourself, the way he always does. Holding the door open and waiting for you to be the one to walk through it, even though you want him to drag you through it with both hands.

"Come here," he says.

You cross the couch on your knees, and he sets the book on the side table. You settle beside him, close enough that your knee presses against his thigh, and tilt your face up.

He looks at you. Looks at your mouth. But doesn't move.

"You haven't said it," you whisper.

"Said what?"

"One kiss."

Something shifts behind his eyes. "Do I still need to say it?"

"Maybe I want to hear it."

He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down the side of your neck before falling away. "One kiss," he murmurs, lower and softer than he’s ever said the words.

You lean in slowly, until your noses brush, your mouth a breath from his, close enough to feel his exhale against your lips. You stay there, letting the almost stretch, letting the space between you turn charged and trembling, and you feel his breathing go shorter and shallower through his nose.

“One kiss,” you agree quietly against his mouth.

You brush your lips across his. It’s not a kiss, just a graze, your lower lip dragging over his upper in a pass so light it barely qualifies as contact, and his breath catches like you've touched an open wound.

You do it again in the other direction, slower, feeling the texture of his mouth, the heat of it, the way his lips part just slightly as you pass over them, and the small, raw sound he makes is so quiet you feel it more than hear it.

Then you press your mouth to his, softly and completely. His lips yield under yours and the heat of it spreads from your mouth down through your chest, your stomach, your fingertips where they're curled against the couch cushion. He doesn't push forward or deepen it, just lets you have his mouth, lets himself have next to nothing.

You pull back.

His eyes stay closed, lips barely parted, still holding the feel of the kiss, and the vulnerability in his expression makes your heart beat faster. When his eyes open, he looks at you like something inside him has shifted and he can't put it back, and he is trying very hard to put it back, and you are trying very hard to shatter it into a million pieces.

You try to lean in again, and he turns his face to the side.

“That’s enough,” he says in that tone you don’t like, the one he takes when you’re in trouble.

You can’t stop your bottom lip from wobbling, humiliation flooding behind your ribs. “Did I do something wrong?"

His expression fractures, like the question hurt him physically.

"No, sweetie. God, no. You didn't—" He stops. His hand comes up and pushes your hair back from your face so gently, so contradictory to the tension coursing through every muscle in his body. "You haven't done anything wrong. That's the problem. I have."

You frown. “You haven't done anything at all.”

"I've done everything." His fingers linger at your temple, smoothing your hair behind your ear. "Every time I turned my cheek. Every time I let you come back. Every time I told myself it was harmless." His hand drops. "None of it was harmless."

"I don't care."

"I know you don't. And it terrifies me."

You lean your face into the space where his hand just was, chasing his touch, and the gesture is so instinctive, so guileless, that his breath leaves him in a rush. His hand comes back to cup your cheek, thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone, and you turn your face into his palm and press your lips against the heel of it.

"One more," you whisper into his hand. “Please, Dad. Just one more."

His thumb traces your lower lip. You can feel the callus at the pad of it, the slight roughness, and when you part your lips and let the tip of your tongue touch his thumb—barely, just a taste—he hisses through his teeth.

"This is a bad idea," he grits out.

You press your mouth against his palm again. "You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not." He brushes his knuckles down the line of your throat, and you shiver. "That's the problem."

You shift closer. Then closer again. And then you're moving without thinking about it, swinging one leg across his lap, settling your weight against his thighs. His hand stays on your neck. His other hand stays on the couch. He looks up at you from beneath you—jaw tilted up, lips parted, lashes low—completely at your mercy and completely aware of it.

“Hi, Dad,” you whisper.

“Hi, baby.”

The endearment runs through you like current. Not sweetie, or kitten, but something new. A word that makes you mean something more to him. Something that feels like permission. Like a promise.

You move to kiss him again, and this time he doesn’t pull away. Instead of starting with your mouth, you touch your tongue to his lower lip.

He goes rigid, his whole body tensing beneath you, and the sound he makes is unfiltered and broken. His lips part wider and the tip of his tongue meets yours, tentative, tasting, and the first full slide of his tongue against yours is so slow and so warm so perfect that your fingers shake where they’ve come to grip his shirt.

You make a noise into his mouth, small and wanting, and you feel his hips shift beneath you. A readjustment, or the beginning of something new, something you don’t have a name for. You sink lower into his lap with each deep lick of his tongue against yours, and through the thin flannel of his pajama pants you can feel how hard he is, pressed right against the seam of your shorts, and the initial contact draws a noise from deep in both of you.

“Fuck,” he curses, a sound so rare it sends a buzz of thrill down your spine.

You loop your arms around his neck and press closer, your chest against his, tucking your face into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, hammering faster than his voice would suggest, and for a moment you just stay like that—breathing him in, feeling the warm strength of his body beneath yours, letting yourself want this without justifying it.

You melt into him, arms tightening around his neck, face buried against him, and you move without meaning to—not on purpose, not exactly. More like your body finding what feels good and following it, seeking the hard press of him beneath you, the heat between your legs and his, the way the friction sends a pulse of warmth through your stomach.

He sucks in a breath. For a second you fear he might push you away.

“Again,” he orders.

You do it again. Slower, pressing down with more intention, and this time you feel every inch of him, hard and pulsing, and it hits you like a lightning strike—the sudden realization that you did that to him, that your Dad’s cock is aching to be closer to your needy pussy, makes you whimper softly against his neck.

His palm slides from your neck to your hair. Not gripping, but smoothing, long strokes from the crown of your head down to the nape of your neck, the way he’s soothed you so many times before. His breathing is uneven but his hand is steady, petting you, holding space for what you're doing without rushing it, and the tenderness makes your eyes sting.

"You're okay," he murmurs. “I’ve got you, baby. Take what you need."

You move against him with your face still buried in his neck, your arms tight around his shoulders, hiding from what this means and chasing what it feels like. Each roll of your hips presses the length of him against you through cotton and flannel, and the friction is not enough and everything at the same time, building in waves slow and heavy. You whimper with each pass, small sounds you can't swallow, muffled against his skin.

His hand keeps stroking your hair. His hips stay still, letting you grind against him, his restraint so total you can feel it vibrating through his thighs.

“Dad,” you breathe out. Your hips stutter, losing rhythm, and you press down harder, desperately trying to find the angle again. “Please, Dad, I need you—need more—”

Something snaps.

His hand leaves your hair and grips the back of your neck. His other hand catches your hip, and suddenly he's holding you, pulling your forehead against his until your noses are touching and you can see nothing but his eyes, pupils blown, the darkness nearly eclipsing the red that’s so fierce it seems to glow, so all-consuming you try to turn away.

His hand at your neck holds you in place.

"Look at me," he says roughly. 

You do  

His grip on your hip tightens, and he guides you—making the rhythm his now, dragging you against him in a slow, hard grind that makes the couch creak. His hips push up to meet yours, and you can feel every inch of him, feel the head of his cock catching against your sensitive clit through the soaked fabric that clings tighter to your skin with each thrust, and the moan that tears from your throat makes his whole face change.

"There she is," he breathes. “My sweet, perfect girl.”

He pulls you harder against him. Faster. His hand on the back of your neck keeps your forehead pressed to his, and you can't look away, or close your eyes, or do anything except watch his face as you meet every upward grind with a roll of your hips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders deeper with each filthy word he speaks into your mouth—give Dad your tongue. That’s it, baby, just like that. Such a good girl for me. Your needy little cunt has been waiting so long for Dad’s cock, hm? All while the sounds filling the room become increasingly damning in their obscenity: fabric against fabric, the creak of the couch, his breathing and yours wrecked beyond recognition.

“Dad, I can’t—” you start. “It feels—ah—you feel so—so—”

“I know, baby. I know.” His hand slides from your hip to your lower back, pressing you impossibly closer. "I feel it, too."

Your thighs are shaking. He's driving up into you so hard now that your knees are lifting off the cushion with each thrust, your nails leaving marks, mouth open against his, not even kissing anymore—just breathing into each other, sharing the same ragged air.

The front door opens.

Keys drop into the bowl.

His hips still. Your hips still. His hand stays on the back of your neck. Yours stay fisted in his shirt. Your foreheads are still pressed together, both of you panting, both of you flushed and sweat-slicked and ruined, pressed together in a way that can't be mistaken for anything other than what it is.

The sound of footsteps grows closer.

You look at Sylus. He looks at you. Presses a kiss to your temple.

Toji Fushiguro, in apartment 08, right next door, he stepped out the side door with a black garbage bag in one scarred hand, in the same tight black t-shirt you’d seen him in a dozen times before, sleeves stretched tight around thick biceps, fabric clinging to the hard planes of his chest and stomach like it was painted on. Dark sweatpants slung low on narrow hips, the waistband showing a thin strip of tanned skin when he moved. 

That scar sliced the corner of his mouth, pulling slightly when his lips twitched like he was always half a second from smirking at something only he found funny and black hair messy, damp at the temples from the heat or maybe from whatever he’d been doing inside his own place all day. 

He didn’t look your way at first, he just hefts the bag into the big metal bin with one easy toss, muscles rolling under tanned skin, then wipes his forearm across his brow.

You should’ve looked away, should’ve pretended to stare at the sky or your chipped nail polish or literally anything else, but your eyes stayed glued, tracing the way his shoulders flexed when he turned, the slow roll of his neck as he cracked it side to side and maybe he felt it, because those sharp green eyes finally flicked over.

Eyes locking on yours.

Your stomach does a nasty, liquid flip. Not fear, exactly. Something hotter. Hungrier. You feel suddenly very aware of how your shorts are bunched high on your ass, how the hoodie’s ridden up to show the dip of your spine, how your thighs are parted just enough that if he looked lower he’d see the soft inner curve where skin meets cotton.

He didn’t smile, didn’t wave. Just stood there with one big hand still resting on the bin lid, staring like he had all night to decide what he wanted to do about the pretty little thing next door finally looking back.

Then he starts walking.

Not toward his apartment, towards you.

Each step, heavy. Bare feet on gravel and the closer he gets the more details you take in, faint sheen of sweat on his throat, the way veins stand out along his forearms and he stops at the edge of your porch slab, one foot planted on the rickety porch so he’s towering without even trying.

For a second the world narrows to just that look; heavy and unreadable, dragging down the length of your sprawled body like he was cataloging every inch. The hoodie half-open so the thin tank underneath showed the soft dip between your breasts, nipples pebbled from the sudden shift in temperature and maybe something else, your shorts bunched high enough that the plump curve where thigh met hip was on full display, cotton stretched tight across your mound. 

You felt the fabric pull snug there, outlining the soft curve of your pussy in a way that made heat crawl up your neck, shifting your thighs together instinctively — only making it worse. A tiny damp spot had already started blooming at the crotch from hours of lazy daydreams and the sticky summer air.

You swallow. Throat dry. “Hi,” it comes out smaller than you meant.

Toji’s scarred mouth twitches barely. “Hey.”

Voice low and rough around the edges like gravel dragged over velvet. One word and it already felt like he’d put his palm flat on your sternum and pressed.

You sat up a little straighter, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. “You’re… Toji, right? My dad said you’re the quiet one.”

He huffed through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’d ever heard from him. “Yeah. That’s me.” He took one slow step closer. “And you’re the kid who’s been runnin’ around in those little shorts all summer.”

Your breath hitched, you're not a kid. Not really, but the way he said it with that lazy drawl, his eyes dropping to where your thighs are pressed together, made your clit throb under the cotton like he’d reached out and thumbed it.

“I’m not a kid,” you mumbled, cheeks burning. “I’m nineteen, almost twenty.”

Toji’s brows lifted just a fraction. “Almost twenty,” he echoed, like he was tasting the words. Another step forward, now he was close enough you could smell him; clean sweat, faint soap, something darker underneath like motor oil and cedar. “Old enough to know better than to sit out here lookin’ like that when it’s just you and me.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You tried to play it cool, tugging the hem of your hoodie down like it would hide anything. “It’s hot. I just wanted air.”

“Mm.” His gaze slid lower again, shamelessly, lingering on the visible outline of your pussy lips printed through the thin shorts, plump, puffy, already so swollen from nothing but his proximity. “Looks like you’re feelin’ more than just the heat, sweetheart.”

The pet name landed like a spark on dry grass, and you squeezed your thighs tighter, but that only made the damp cotton drag against your slick folds. A tiny, involuntary whimper slipped out before you could catch it.

Toji’s eyes darkened. He crouched slowly, his big body folding with surprising grace, until he was eye-level with you on the step. Forearms resting on spread thighs, scarred hands dangling loose between his knees. So close you can see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, the way his happy trail disappears under the waistband, dark and tempting.

He tilts his head, just enough that the dying sunlight cuts across the sharp line of his jaw. Moss-green eyes drag from your bare legs up up up- slowly and unapologetic. Lingers on the bare strip of stomach where your hoodie’s rucked up. On the way your shorts cling to the plump curve of your ass, aaaaall the way up to your face like he’s cataloguing every inch he’s already seen a hundred times through cracked blinds.

“Been seein’ you around,” he says. Voice quieter now and allmost intimate. “You live next door, right? Your old man’s girl.”

Not a question again.

You nod anyway. Tongue feeling too big in your mouth.

“Yeah. I’m… back for summer break.”

He hums, deep in his chest. The sound vibrates through the humid air straight into your bones.

“Didn’t figure you’d be out here lookin’ like that,” his eyes glance to your lips then back up to your eyes, “always out this late too huh, doll?”

You blink. “...You noticed?”

Another almost-laugh. “Hard not to.”

Heat floods your cheeks. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of exposed skin. The way your nipples have pebbled against the thin hoodie fabric from the slight breeze or maybe just from him looking at you like that.

“You been watchin’ me too, huh?” he murmurs. Voice softer than you expect. Almost gentle. “Every time you come out here. Corner store. Back porch. Thought I didn’t notice?”

Your lips parted, no sound comes out at first. Then, barely a whisper, “I… I thought you didn’t.”

“Wrong.” One big hand lifts slow, carefully and the rough pad of his thumb brushes the edge of your hoodie sleeve where it had slipped down your shoulder. Goosebumps erupts across everywhere he almost touches. “Been noticin’ you since the first day you walked by in those jeans. Ass hugged so tight I could see the outline of your panties. Thought about bendin’ you over the railing right then.”

Heat floods between your thighs so fast your vision blurs and you can feel yourself leaking now, slow, syrupy slick soaking through your cotton panties, darkening the crotch of your shorts in an obvious little patch. His eyes drops to it immediately.

“Fuck,” he breathes, almost laboured. “Look at that. Sweet little pussy already cryin’ for me and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You whimper again, louder this time, hips shifting forward on instinct, chasing nothing.

“You alone tonight?” he asks. Casually, like he’s asking about the weather.

You nod, throat dry. “Dad’s working late again, always is.”

Toji hums, low in his chest. The sound vibrates through the air into your palms.

He reaches out, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted.

You don’t.

Thick fingers catch the hem of your hoodie where it’s ridden up over your hip and he doesn’t pull it down. Just tugs it a little higher, exposing another inch of soft skin. His thumb brushes the edge of your shorts, barely a graze, but it feels like he’s touching you somewhere much more intimate.

“These are reaaaaal short,” he drawls. Voice gone darker. “You always walk around in shit like this?”

Your heart slams against your ribs. “Sometimes.”

He exhales through his nose, almost a growl.

“Careful, sweetheart.” His thumb presses just barely into the crease where thigh meets ass. “Lots of eyes around here.”

You’re trembling now and its not from fear, its from the sudden, vicious ache blooming low in your belly. Your thighs press together on instinct and he notices. Of course he does.

Toji’s eyes flick down to where your legs squeeze, then back up to your face, that smirk of his deepens.

“You scared of me?” he asks softly, almost sweet — if sweet could be laced with this much danger.

You shake your head, barely.

“Liar,” he says but he sounds pleased.

His hand slides higher, his fingers splaying wide across the small of your back, his palm is hot and rough as calluses drag against your skin like a promise. He doesn’t push you down. Doesn’t need to, you’re already melting into the floor boards, arching just enough that your ass lifts a fraction — offering.

He groans quietly and guttural, the first real crack in that cool exterior.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re trouble.”

You lick your lips, voice barely there. “You gonna do something about it?”

His eyes snap to yours. Dark, predatory.

For one endless second neither of you moves.

Your breath hitches when his gaze drops again — straight to the damp patch you know is starting to show. The cotton’s darker there now, clinging, outlining the plump shape of your pussy lips so clearly it’s obscene. You’re soaked, have been since you noticed him watching. And he can fucking see it.

“Pretty little thing like you,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something dangerous-soft, “sittin’ out here all needy. Drippin’ through your shorts for the old man next door.”

Your mouth falls open on a shaky gasp. No denial. No lie. Just liquid heat, shameful heat — flooding between your legs at his words.

Toji’s eyes darken and hooks one thick finger under the hem of your shorts. Doesn’t pull them down. Just lifts the fabric the tiniest bit, letting it snap back against the crease of your thigh with a soft thwack.

“Bet these panties are fuckin’ ruined,” he says, almost conversationally. “All wet and clingy, pushin’ up against the seam, yeah?”

You whimper high and helpless, hips shifting forward before you can stop them.

He chuckles, low and mean. “Knew it.”

Toji’s hand moves again, this time cupping the side of your face, thumb stroking slow along your jaw. Calluses rough against your soft skin. “Pretty thing,” he murmured. “So shy. So needy. Bet you’ve been touchin’ yourself thinkin’ about the mean neighbour next door, huh? Imaginin’ what these hands would feel like spreadin’ you open.”

Your head tipped into his palm. Eyes fluttering. “Y-yes…”

“Good girl.” Praise hits like honey dripping down your spine. He leaned in closer — close enough his breath fanned your glossed lips. “Gonna kiss you now. Wanna taste how sweet that pouty mouth is before I ruin the rest of you.”

You nodded with frantic little jerks of your head.

Then his mouth is on yours.

Soft at first, just the brush of scarred lips over your glossy ones, tasting artificial cherry and nervous salt. He groaned low in his throat the second your mouths connect, like he’d been starving for it, his big hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wants so he could lick slow into the seam of your lips.

You opened for him instantly. Tongue shy and tentative, his is thicker, hotter, curling against yours with lazy confidence. He kisses like he had nowhere else to be, like he could spend hours just licking into your mouth, swallowing every tiny whimper you give him.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against your lips between slow, wet kisses. “Taste like summer, like you’ve been waitin’ for this.”

His other hand finds your thigh, palming the plush inner meat, squeezing gently, thumb stroking higher and higher until it grazes the damp edge of your shorts, not pushing inside. Just petting. Soothing. Praising.

“Doin’ so good for me already,” he whispers, nipping your bottom lip. “Letting me kiss you like this. Letting me feel how wet you are just from my mouth. Such a good girl f'me already.”

You moan  into his kiss loud and  needy — hips canting up so his thumb presses firmer against the soaked outline of your pussy. He growls softly, rewarding you with another deep, filthy lick into your mouth.

The kiss turns hungrier. Wetter. His tongue fucks slow and deliberately into yours while his hand kneads your thigh, inching closer to where you ache most — never quite touching your clit, just circling, teasing, making you drip more and more until the cotton’s clinging transparently to every swollen fold.

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breath ragged, green eyes blown black with want.

“Tell me you want more,” he raspes. Voice wrecked. “Tell me you want my hands on you. My mouth. Everything.”

Your lips trembles, gloss smeared and eyes glassy.

“I want it,” you breathe. “Want you…please, Toji…”

He smiled then slowly, gaze darkening but still so gentle when his thumb brushes your cheek again.

“Good girl,” he purred.

And then he kissed you deeper — claiming, devouring, promising every filthy thing he's about to do to you next.

His mouth is still on yours hot, slow and filthy in the best way. Tongue sliding deep, curling lazy against yours like he's mapping every soft inch of your mouth, tasting the cherry gloss you’d slicked on earlier just because you felt pretty. 

Toji kisses like a man who’s waited too long to taste something sweet and now couldn’t get enough. A big hand cradles the back of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive spot just under your ear while the other squeezes the plush meat of your inner thigh — fingers digging in just enough to make your hips twitch forward, chasing more pressure against the soaked cotton clinging to your pussy.

You were drowning in it. Brain turning to warm syrup, every thought melting into the wet drag of his tongue, the faint scrape of his scar against your lower lip when he sucks it between his teeth. Soft little whimpers bubbling out of you every time he pulls back just to nip, just to breathe a rough “good girl” against your mouth before diving back in deeper.

Your hands found his shoulders somewhere in the haze, your fingertips digging into hard muscles under that tight black shirt, feeling the heat rolling off him like a furnace. He smells so good up close; clean sweat, faint cologne that clung to his neck, something darker and masculine underneath that made your clit throb harder every time you inhaled.

When he finally eases back — barely an inch, forehead pressing to yours, your lips swollen, gloss smeared across both your mouths, strings of spit connecting when yours part. You were panting, chest heaving under the half-zipped hoodie, nipples tight and aching against the thin tank.

Toji’s green eyes were blown black, pupils eating up the color as he stares down at you like you were the only thing left in the world worth looking at. His thumb brushing slowly over your bottom lip, spreading the mess even more.

“Fuck, look at this mouth,” he murmurs, voice gravel-rough and wrecked. “All glossy and puffy from just my kisses. Bet it’d look even prettier wrapped around my cock.”

The words hit you like a slap of heat. Your thighs clenching hard — slick gushing fresh against your already drenched panties, the cotton so wet now it was sticking transparently to every plump fold. You could feel the outline of your pussy lips print shamelessly through the shorts, fat and swollen… begging.

You tried to speak — tried to be smart, to play it cool, but your brain was mush, words tumbling out careless and needy.

“W-wanna… come inside?” you breathed, barely coherent. “For… for a drink. Or… something. Please.”

Toji’s scarred lips curves slow and predatory, but still so fucking gentle when his thumb strokes your cheek again.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “You invitin’ the old man next door inside while your daddy’s gone? Careful, sweetheart. I might'n wanna leave once I get my hands on you proper.”

Your head bobs, frantical little nods. “I… I don’t want you to leave.”

He groans low in his throat, like the confession physically hurt him in the best way. Then he was standing, a slow roll of his muscles as he rose to his full height, now towering over you on the step. One big hand extended down.

“C’mon then pretty girl. Show me where you live.”

You take his hand, your small fingers swallowed up in his scarred palm and you let him pull you up. Legs shaky, thighs slick where they're rubbing together. The second you're standing he tugs you closer, arm banding around your waist so your soft body presses flush to his hard one. You could feel him, thick and heavy…his cock already half-hard and straining against his sweatpants, nudging insistently against your lower belly.

“Fuck,” he mutters into your hair, inhaling deep like he was trying to memorize your scent. “Smell's so sweet. Bet you taste even better between those thighs.”

He walks you the few steps to your door like that, an arm possessive around you, free hand palming slow over the curve of your ass through your shorts, squeezing the plush flesh like he was testing how soft you really are. You fumble the key with trembling fingers and he just chuckles low against your ear.

“Easy, baby. We got all night.”

The door finally opens. You stumble inside, the dim living room lit up only by the lamp you’d left on, the cheap couch, scattered textbooks from last semester you hadn’t bothered to put away. Toji kicks the door shut behind him without looking, then spun you gently until your back hits the wall beside it.

He didn’t crowd you right away. Just stood there, close enough you could feel his heat, but giving you that one last second to back out if you wanted.

You didn’t.

Instead you tipped your head back, lips parting eyes glassy and pleading.

Toji’s hand came up and cupsyour jaw so gently it made your chest ache, his thumb stroking over your swollen bottom lip again.

“Look at you,” he whispers, voice thick with something almost reverent. “So fuckin’ pretty. So young and soft and already drippin’ for a man old enough to know better. You know how filthy that is, sweetheart? How wrong?”

You whimpered, nodding your hips canting forward so the damp crotch of your shorts brushes the hard line of his cock through his sweats.

“Feels right to me,” you breathe out needy.

His eyes flutters shut for a second — like your words punched the air out of him. Then he was kissing you again, deeper this time, hungrier. Tongue fucking slow into your mouth while both hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you easy like you weighed nothing. Your legs wraps around his waist on instinct; he pins you to the wall with his hips, his thick cock grinding slow against your soaked pussy through layers of fabric.

You moaned loud into his mouth, a desperate, broken sound.

“That’s it,” he praises against your lips, rocking slow and deliberately. “Grind on it, baby, let me feel how wet you are for me. Soaked right through these little shorts… fuck, I can smell you. Sweet little cunt cryin’ for cock.”

His hands kneads your ass rough, spreading you open even through your clothes, his fingertips dipping under the hem of your shorts to brush the edge of your drenched panties. You jolt at the contact and he just shushes you softly by kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Doin’ so good,” he murmurs. “Such a good girl lettin’ me touch. Gonna take care of you, yeah? Gonna make this pretty pussy feel so full… but imma take my time. Wanna savor every second of ruinin’ you.”

You were shaking, your whole body trembling with need, clit throbbing against the drag of his cock every time he rolls his hips. Slick had soaked through everything now and you could feel it smearing against him, making the fabric cling obscenely.

“Toji…” His name comes out wrecked, pleading. “Please… need you.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, tender and filthy all at once.

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, pressing one last soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. Gonna give you everything. But first…”

His hand slid between your bodies and cups your pussy over the shorts, his palm grinds slow against your swollen clit while two thick fingers traces the soaked outline of your lips through the cotton.

“Gonna make you come like this first,” he promises, voice low and wrecked with want. “Just from my hand, m'gonna watch this sweet little thing soak my fingers before I even get inside you. You gonna be good and come for me, baby?”

Your head falls back against the wall, eyes rolling, your hips already chasing his palm in frantic little circles.

“Y-yes… yes, please… Toji…”

He smiles slowly, dangerous and adoring.

“That’s my girl.”

And then he kisses you again deeper and filthy, while his hand works unhurried, perfect little circles over your dripping cunt, building you up slow and sweet until you’re trembling on the edge, ready to fall apart for the quiet neighbour who’d finally let you into his world.

Toji didn’t set you down.

Not even for a second.

The second your shaky “yes” left your lips he scoops you up like you weigh nothing, his big scarred hands sliding under the plush meat of your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor so your legs had no choice but to wrap tight around his narrow waist.

Your soaked shorts presses right against the thick, heavy ridge of his cock straining through his sweatpants, and the friction made you whimper into his mouth — high, the needy sound swallowed by another slow, filthy kiss.

Toji doesn’t even glance at the couch, he heads straight for your bedroom door instead. “Wanna take this where I can spread you out proper. Where I can watch every little thing that pretty face does when I make you come apart.”

Your arms loops around his neck — fingers digging into the short black hair at his nape, clinging like he's the only solid thing left in your world. He carries you down the short hallway like that, feet heavy on the cheap laminate, every step grinding his cock against your dripping pussy through the thin layers. You could feel how hard he is — thick, hot and pulsing, already leaking enough that a damp spot had started blooming on his sweats where your slick had soaked through everything.

Your bedroom door was half-open already. Small room — nothing fancy. Twin bed pushed against one wall with rumpled pastel sheets you hadn’t bothered making, fairy lights strung lazy across the headboard from last semester, a cluttered desk with half-finished college notes and empty energy drink cans. Window cracked, letting in the thick summer night air. It smells faintly like your vanilla body spray and the faint laundry detergent on your sheets.

Toji kicks the door shut behind him, a soft click of the latch sealing you both in and crosses the small space in three strides, he didn’t bother with the light. The glow from a dim lamp on your table and those soft fairy lights was enough — warm, hazy, turning his sharp features golden and making the scar on his mouth look even more wicked when he smirked down at you.

He lowered you slow onto the edge of the mattress carefully, almost worshipful, until your ass hit the comforter and your legs dangles off. But he didn’t step back. Just stayed between your spread thighs, towering, broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with something soft and hungry all at once. Big hands sliding up your sides, under the hem of your hoodie this time, his palms rough and warm dragging slow over the soft curve of your waist, thumbs brushing the underside of your tits through the thin tank. “So fuckin’ soft everywhere. Plush little body just beggin’ to be touched.”

You shiver, your whole body trembling as his hands keep roaming. Up your ribs, over the swell of your breasts, squeezing gently through fabric until your nipples peaks hard against his palms.

Then back down, his fingertips tracing the gentle pooch of your tummy, dipping into the soft dip of your navel, spreading wide to span the width of your lower belly like he was measuring how perfectly you’d fit under him.

His eyes drop lower, locking on the obscene wet spot darkening your shorts. The cotton plastered to your pussy now, every plump, fattened lip outlined clear as day, swollen clit peeking through like a needy little button begging for attention.

Slick soaked all the way through your cotton panties underneath, making the fabric sheer and clinging, showing the glossy sheen of your arousal coating every fold.

“Jesus,” he breathes, almost dazed. “Can’t even hide it, can you? Fat little cunt just printin’ out for me, drippin’ right through everything. Been leakin’ like this since I kissed you on the porch, huh?”

You nodded frantically, cheeks burning, your hips shifting forward on instinct so the soaked crotch of your shorts brushes his thigh.

Toji groans low, a deep rumble in his chest, then leans down, caging you with his arms braced on either side of your hips. His mouth finds your neck — hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing slow from under your ear down the column of your throat. He sucks gently at first, his lips sealing over soft skin, tongue flicking — then harder.

Teeth grazing just enough to sting before he soothes it with slow laps, blooming dark purple bruises one after another like he was marking territory.

“Good girl,” he whispers between sucks, voice muffled against your skin. “Lettin’ me mark you up like this. Gonna look so pretty tomorrow, little love bites all over this sweet neck so everyone knows who’s been takin’ care of you.”

His hands never stops moving, he slides them under your hoodie again, pushing the fabric up slowly until it bunches under your tits. Callused palms dragging over bare skin now, the rough texture making you arch, you let out a faint gasp, as his fingers splays wide over your soft tummy, kneading gently like he couldn’t get enough of how plush you were there.

“Love this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. “This soft little belly. Gonna watch it bounce when I’m fuckin’ you deep later. Gonna feel it quiver when you come all over my cock.”

You were whimpering nonstop now, your brain goopy, thoughts reduced to nothing but the heat of his mouth, the weight of his hands, the slow grind of his hips every time he shifts closer. He was still fully clothed, his tight black shirt stretching over thick pecs and sharp-cut abs, sweatpants slung low but you could feel every ridge of muscle flexing against you when he moved. Solid. Unyielding. Cutting through the thin layers like he was already inside you.

Toji pulls back just enough to look at your face, eyes dark, tender and filthy with want. Thumb brushing over one of the fresh bruises on your throat, a gentle stroke that made you shiver.

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” he praises, voice low and steady. “Look how pretty you are.” Your eyes were all glassy, lips swollen, pussy so wet he could hear it every time you shift. “Gonna take my time with you, m'gonna touch every inch, talk you through it nice and slow till you’re shakin’ and beggin’.”

One hand slides down, cupping your soaked mound over the shorts, his palm grinding slow against your clit while thick fingers traces the plump outline of your lips through the fabric. Not pushing inside yet. Just petting. Soothing. Building.

“Feel that?” he whispers, pressing firmer so you could feel how your slick squelches against his palm. “That’s all for me. Sweet little thing gettin’ this messy just from my kisses and my hands. Such a good girl. My good girl.”

You moan, loud and broken, your head tipping back as your hips rolls up into his touch.

He kisses you again, his tongue sliding against yours while his hand keeps that lazy rhythm between your thighs. The other stays on your tummy, rubbing slow circles over the soft pudge, possessive and adoring all at once.

“Gonna watch you fall apart, sweetheart,” he promised against your mouth. “Gonna make this pretty pussy cum so hard you see stars. And then I’m gonna do it again. And again. Till you’re too fucked-out to think about anything but me.”

His fingers hooks under the waistband of your shorts slowly tugging it downward, just enough to bare the top of your drenched panties.

“Ready for more?” he murmurs, nipping your bottom lip. “Gonna strip you and kiss every bruise I leave, spread these plush thighs and taste how sweet you are.”

Your answer was a shaky nod, eyes locked on his and pleading.

Toji smiles slow, dangerous and so fucking gentle.

“That’s my girl.”

And then he starts peeling your hoodie off slowly, his hands worshipping every new inch of bare skin he uncovers, mouth following right behind with more soft kisses and praise, ready to unravel you piece by trembling piece on your little twin bed while the summer night presses warm against the window.

Toji pulls back from your neck, his lips shiny with spit, a fresh bruise blooming dark and pretty under your jaw and his eyes drops to your face. You were a wreck already, cheeks flushing hot, eyes glassy and half-lidded, mouth hanging open in soft little pants.

A thin string of drool had slipped from the corner of your lips, trailing slow down your chin like you’d forgotten how to swallow. Fuck. The sight punches straight through him, making his cock twitch hard against the damp front of his sweats, thickening even more until the fat head was outlined clear as day through the gray cotton.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice thick and wrecked. “Look at you droolin’ for me already. Can’t even keep that pretty mouth closed.”

He leans in slow, his big hand cupping the side of your face, thumb sweeping under your lower lip to catch the mess. But instead of wiping it away he just smears it wider and then dips down and licks it up himself, tongue flat and hot dragging slowly from your chin to the corner of your mouth, tasting the sweet-salty mix of your spit and his earlier kisses. You whimper the sound coming out high and broken as he seals his scarred lips over yours again in one sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Tongues sliding messy and wet, no rhythm left. Just hunger. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth with a gentle tug and then plunges back in, licking deep into your mouth like he was trying to drink every drop of you.

Drool spilling between your lips, stringing down your chin again, soaking into the collar of your tank. You're making the filthiest little noises, soft, wet glucks every time his tongue licks into you and he groans low against your mouth, swallowing them all down.

“Such a messy girl,” he murmurs between kisses, nipping your tongue. “Doin’ so good though. Lettin’ me lick it all up. My sweet, sloppy baby.”

He breaks the kiss with a wet pop, a string of spit connecting your mouths for a second before it snaps and he sits back on his heels between your spread thighs. His eyes raking down your body slowly, like he was memorizing every inch. Hoodie shoved up to your tits, tank rucked under them so the soft undersides spilled out.

Shorts still on but soaked dark at the crotch, clinging transparently to the plump mound of your pussy. The fat lips were printed perfect through the cotton — swollen, puffy, glossy with thick gluey slick that had leaked through your panties and was now starting to drip down the crease of your thighs, making shiny wet trails on your sheets.

Toji’s mouth waters so hard he has to swallow. His cock was rock-hard now — veined, fattened, throbbing painfully against his sweats. He palmed it once, roughly squeezed it through the fabric, just to take the edge off. The head leaking more, darkening the gray in a fat wet spot right at the tip. But he didn’t care about himself yet. Not when your pretty soaked pussy was right there, begging for his mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice strained. “Look at this messy little thing.” So sticky. So sappy. “Drippin’ all over your bed like you can’t help it.”

He hooks two thick fingers under the waistband of your shorts, slowly tugging it down your hips. You lifted for him on instinct, — a shaky little arch and he peels them off along with your drenched panties in one go. The fabric stuck for a second — clinging to your slick folds before coming free with a wet schlick. Strings of thick, glossy arousal stretching between the cotton and your pussy, snapping slow as he tosses them aside.

Your legs fell open wider, your knees bent, feet planted on the mattress and there it was; your pussymound all shiny and swollen, lips puffy and parted just enough to show the sticky pretty inside. Slick coating everything — thick, gluey strands webbing between your folds, dripping slow down to your tight little hole that clenched on nothing.

Your clit was begging — fattened, flushed dark, peeking out from its hood like it was throbbing for attention. The whole thing glistened under the fairy lights — sappy, cummy, so fucking wet it looked obscene.

Toji groaned deeply, a guttural sound coming from his chest. His hands slid up your plush thighs, spreading you wider, thumbs hooking under the meat where thigh met hip so he could hold you open. Your pussy lips parted more, the sticky strings stretching, then breaking, revealing the creamy mess inside.

“Goddamn,” he whispers, almost to himself. “Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen. All swollen and leaking for me. Gonna taste every drop, baby. Gonna lick this sweet cunt clean till you’re shakin’.”

You whimper high and desperate, your hips twitching up toward his face.

He leaned in slow, his hot breath fanning over your clit first, making it jump. Then his tongue, flat and wide dragged up the entire length of your slit in one long, slow lick. From your dripping hole to the tip of your clit. Thick gluey slick coated his tongue instantly, sweet, tangy, so fucking much of it he had to swallow hard. He groaned against you, the vibration rumbling straight through your core.

“So sweet,” he praised, voice muffled as he licked again — slower this time, savoring it. “Taste like fuckin’ heaven. My good girl’s pussy all creamy and ready. Doin’ so perfect for me.”

His tongue circled your clit, with gentle flicks at first, then slower, broad laps that made your hips buck. One big hand slid up to your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the plush curve, holding you down gentle while his mouth worked. The other kept your thigh spread, thumb stroking soothing circles on the inner meat while he sucked your clit between his lips, a soft pull, then releasing, then pulling again.

You were moaning nonstop loud and  wrecked, the sounds filling the small room. Slick gushing  fresh with every lick — thick ropes of it coating his chin, dripping down his neck. He didn’t stop, just kept on lapping messy and hungry, his tongue dipping into your tight hole to scoop out more of that gluey cream, then dragging back up to suckle your clit like it was candy.

“Look at her clenchin’,” he murmured between licks, eyes flicking up to watch your face. “So tight and needy. Gonna come for me like this, yeah? Gonna let me drink all this pretty mess while you fall apart?”

His tongue plunged deeper, fucking slow into your hole, then he pulled out to circle your clit again, the hand on your tummy pressed firmer, feeling the way your muscles quivered under his palm.

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed, voice thick with praise. “Doin’ so good. Such a sweet girl lettin’ me eat this pussy. Gonna make you come so hard you soak my face. Then I’m gonna do it again. Gonna keep goin’ till you’re cryin’ my name.”

He sucked harder, his lips sealing around your clit, tongue flicking faster now and your whole body arched, your thighs shaking, hands fisting the sheets, drool slipping from your open mouth again as the pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly.

Toji didn’t let up, he just kept licking slow and filthy, worshipfully talking you through every tremor, every gush of slick, every broken whimper.

“My perfect girl,” he rasped against your dripping cunt. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me taste how good I make you feel.”

And with one more long, slow drag of his tongue — circling your begging clit just right — you shattered.

You came hard, harder than you ever had alone in this little bed with your fingers or with that cheap little vibe tucked in your drawer. Your whole body seized up like lightning hit your spine, thighs clamping around Toji’s head on instinct, plush hips bucking wild against his mouth while thick ropes of slick gushed straight onto his tongue.

Your clit throbbing against his lips — fat, swollen, pulsing like a second heartbeat — and he didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. Just groaned deep into your cunt like the taste of your orgasm was the only thing he’d been starving for all summer.

“Thaaat’s it,” he rasped, voice muffled and wrecked against your dripping folds. “Come all over my face, sweetheart. Fuck, look at her spillin’ for me. So sweet. So fuckin’ messy.”

He kept licking slow, greedy — greedy laps through the aftermath — cleaning up every fresh gush like he couldn’t bear to waste a drop. Your pussy lips were puffy and flushed dark now, glossy with spit and cum, parting easy every time his tongue nudged between them. Slick coated his chin, dripping down his scarred neck in shiny trails, soaked into the collar of his black shirt. The fairy lights caught it all — turning the mess iridescent, obscene, beautiful.

You were shaking, overstimulated already, clit so sensitive it hurt in the best way, but Toji wasn’t done. Not even close. Man-starved didn’t even cover it, he ate like he’d been denied pussy his whole life and yours was the first real meal he’d ever had. Toji after a moment hooked his fingers into the underside of his shirt and pulled it off in one fluid motion.

Then his big hands shoved your thighs wider, thumbs hooking under the crease where thigh met hip, spreading you so open your tight little hole winked at him with every clench.

He pulled back just enough to look, eyes black with hunger, pupils blown wide watching the way your fattened lips trembled, the way thick gluey strings of your arousal stretched between them like spider silk every time you fluttered.

“Goddamn,” he breathed softly. “This pretty cunt’s still cryin’ for more. Look how she’s clenchin’… all tight and needy even after comin’ that hard. Fuck, baby… you’re killin’ me.”

He dove back in — lips sealing over your clit again, sucking soft at first, then harder. Wet, filthy pulls that made your hips jerk, made your back arch off the mattress until your tits spilled free from under the rucked-up tank. His tongue flicked fast over the swollen bud — quick little lashes — then slowed to broad, dragging circles that had you sobbing.

“Toj i— f-fuck — too much — s’too much — ”

“Shhh,” he soothed without stopping, voice vibrating straight through your core. “You can take it. Doin’ so good for me. My perfect girl. Just lemme taste a little more. Gotta drink every drop this sweet pussy’s givin’ me.”

He licked lower, his tongue plunging slow into your tight hole, fucking in and out with lazy thrusts that made obscene wet squelches fill the room. Your walls fluttered around him greedily, sucking at his tongue like they wanted to keep him inside forever. He groaned — deep, guttural — then pulled out just to spit right onto your clit. A thick glob of his saliva landed hot and heavy, mixing with your slick, running down your folds in slow rivulets.

You whimpered, high and broken when he blew a soft puff of air over the mess, his cool breath hitting your overheated, spit-slick clit like ice on fire. Your whole pussy jolted — clit jumping, hole clenching hard enough to push out another bead of thick cream that dripped slow down your ass.

“Fuck yeah,” he growled, watching it with dark, fascinated eyes. “Look at her twitch. Sensitive little thing. Love how she jumps when I blow on her. Gonna make her come again just like this.” You were overstimulated and shaking.

He sucked your clit back into his mouth, gently this time, lips soft around the swollen bud while his tongue lapped slow, soothing circles. One hand slid up your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the soft give of skin, fingers splaying to feel every quiver of your muscles.

The other kept your thigh pinned, thumb stroking slow, reassuring circles on the inner skin like he was petting you through the overstimulation.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured between sucks, pulling off just long enough to speak before diving back in. “Lettin’ me eat this messy cunt even when it’s too much. Takin’ everything I give you. So pretty when you cry for me like this.”

He licked into you again, deeper this time, his tongue curling to scoop out the thickest parts of your cream, feeding it back to your pussy with slow, filthy thrusts. Then he pulled out, lips shiny, chin dripping and spat again. Right onto your hole this time, watching it slide in, mixing with your slick until everything was glossy and obscene.

“Breathe, baby,” he cooed, blowing another soft puff over your clit, watching it throb, watching your hips buck helplessly. “Just breathe. M'gonna make you come again. Gonna suck this pretty clit till you’re soakin’ the sheets even more. Wanna see how many times I can make her gush before you’re beggin’ me to fuck you.”

Your hands flew to his hair — fingers tangling in the black strands, pulling hard enough to make him growl against you. But he loved it, loved the way you were falling apart and drooling again, spit slipping from the corner of your mouth, eyes rolling back as another wave built fast and brutal in your belly.

He sucked harder — lips sealing tight, cheeks hollowing — tongue flicking relentless over your clit while he hummed low, vibrations rumbling straight through you. His free hand pressed firmer on your tummy, feeling the way your muscles clenched, the way your whole body trembled on the edge.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he praised, voice thick and wrecked. “Give it to me. Come all over my tongue again. Let me taste how overstimulated this sweet pussy gets for me. My good girl, my perfect, messy, drippin’ girl.”

One more long, slow drag of his tongue, circling your clit just right, then plunging back into your clenching hole and you shattered again. Harder. Louder, your whole body convulsing, thighs shaking around his head, slick gushing in thick spurts that coated his mouth, his chin and the sheets beneath you.

Toji drank it all — groaning like a man possessed — licking slow through the aftershocks, soothing your twitching clit with soft kitten licks while you sobbed his name, overstimulated and wrecked and still so fucking needy for more.

He finally pulled back — lips swollen, face a mess of spit and cum, his eyes locking on yours with that dark, adoring hunger.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped, crawling up your body slow, caging you under his broad frame. “You taste like sin. Like every filthy thing I’ve ever wanted.”

His mouth found yours, in a slow, deep kiss letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Thick fingers sliding between your thighs again and petting your soaked, puffy pussy gentle now, soothing the oversensitive folds.

“Still shakin’,” he murmured against your lips, smiling soft and filthy. “Still drippin’. Think you can take my cock now, sweetheart? Or you need me to eat this pretty cunt one more time first?”

Your answer was a broken whimper — hips canting up toward his hand, begging without words.

He chuckled low, dark and tenderly.

“That’s my girl.”

Toji had finally pulled his mouth off your wrecked pussy — lips swollen dark red, his chin still glistening with thick ropes of your slick and his spit that stretched and snapped every time he moved. 

He gave you one more slow, sweet savouring kiss to your sweet little lips before crouching back down between your trembling thighs for a second longer, just staring at the mess he’d made; your fat pussy mound all shiny and puffy, lips parted and drooling slow streams of cream down your ass, onto the already soaked sheets.

Your clit was a throbbing little pearl now — fattened up dark and glossy, peeking out like it was begging for one more touch even after two brutal orgasms. Your tight hole kept clenching on nothing — suckling air, pushing out fresh beads of gluey slick that made obscene wet sounds in the quiet room.

He groaned low, the sound ripping out from deep in his chest and he palmed his cock through his sweats again. Harder this time, giving it a rough squeeze that made the thick vein along the underside jump under his hand.

The front of the gray fabric was wrecked — a dark wet patch spreading from the fat, leaking tip, glossy pre soaking through in thick globs that clinged to the cotton like honey.

You saw the outline perfectly now; his fat fuckin’ cock all hardened up for you, swollen and heavy, curving slightly to the left, the round mushroom head so chubbed and probably flushed it looked angry.

“Fuck, look what you did to me, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice gravel-thick with want. “Got me so hard it hurts. Leakin’ like a faucet just from tastin’ this pretty cunt. You see how much pre I’m givin’ you? All for this messy little pussy.”

He shoved his sweats down slow enough to free himself, then kicked it off completely. His cock sprang out heavy the thick base dusted with dark curls of hair, shaft veined and ridged, fattened tip glossy with a fat pearl of pre that beaded at the pink slit and dripping slow down the underside.

It bobbed once, smacking wet against his abs, before he wrapped one scarred hand around the middle and gave himself one lazy stroke. More pre welled up — thick and clear — dribbling over his knuckles.

Your mouth watered. Your pussy clenched hard — sappy walls fluttering, clit jumping at the sight. You were so wet still — thicker now, gluey strands webbing between your lips every time your hips twitched.

Toji crawled back up your body, slow and carefully caging you in, under his broad frame. One thick forearm braced beside your head, the other hand guiding his cock down between your thighs. He didn’t push in…not yet. Just rubbing slow, filthy drags of that fattened round tip through your glossed folds.

The head was scorching hot — swelled up so big it parted your puffy lips easy, spreading them wide around the blunt crown. Your clammy, glued pussylips sucked at him, clinging wetly every time he dragged back, strings of your slick stretching from your hole to his tip like they didn’t want to let go. He nudged your clit with the slit, smearing thick pre over the aching bud — making it throb harder, making you whimper high and broken.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, voice low and mean-teasing as he rocked slow. “Fat fuckin’ cock all hardened up just for you.” Rubbin’ right through your glossy folds. “Y’er sweet little pussy’s kissin’ me back, suckin’ on the tip like she’s tryin’ to pull me in.”

You nodded — desperately, drool slipping from your open mouth again, hips canting up to chase more friction. Your clit was so achy, fattened and sensitive, every glide of his swollen head over it sent sparks shooting up your spine.

Toji chuckled, the sound breathless and dark — then pressed firmer. The round tip notched right at your entrance, stretching the tight ring just enough to make your hole flutter and suckle greedy around him. Not inside. Just teasing…just enough to feel how hot and wet and ready you were.

“Look how she’s grippin’,” he praised, eyes locked on where your pussy lips hugged the head of his cock — clinging, glossy, dripping. “Tight little hole sucklin’ like she’s starvin’. Fuck, baby, you’re so so wet. Drippin’ all over my dick before I even get in. Such a needy girl.”

He rocked against you slowly again, dragging that fattened tip up your slit to bump your clit, then back down to nudge your hole. Pre mixed with your slick, making everything slippery, obscene, the wet schlick, schlick, schlick filling the room every time he teased. Your clit throbbed harder, achy and begging, every time the ridge of his crown caught it just right.

“Toji…please—” Your voice cracked — high, pleading. “Need it… need you inside…”

He groaned, the deep rumble vibrating through both of you, then leaned down to kiss you lovingly, slow and sweet, his tongue sliding against yours while he kept that mean, teasing rhythm; fat tip rubbing through your folds, bumping your clit, nudging your hole, spreading you open without giving you what you craved.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips, voice wrecked with restraint. “Gonna tease this sweet pussy a little longer. Wanna feel how much wetter you get. Wanna watch this fat little cunt cry for my cock till you’re shakin’ and sobbin’.”

One big hand slid under your ass, lifting your hips just enough to change the angle. Now every slow drag had his swollen tip catching right on your entrance — stretching the rim, making your walls flutter desperate around nothing. Your clit dragged along the thick underside of his shaft, veins bumping the sensitive bud, sending fresh gushes of slick coating him.

“Feel how hard I am for you?” he rasped, rocking firmer. All his thick pre leakin’ “Just thinkin’ about sinkin’ into this tight, pretty cunt. You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby. So ready. But I wanna hear you beg a little more. Wanna hear how bad my good girl needs this fat cock stretchin’ her open.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders — nails digging into hard muscle, your hips rolling up frantically to chase his teasing. Slick squelching loud between you, gluey strands clinging to his shaft, dripping down his heavy balls that brushed your ass with every rock.

“Toji… please… fuck m’need you so bad —” You were babbling now, voice wrecked, drool slipping down your chin. “Want your cock… want it deep… please —”

He smiled slow, adoringly and mean, then kissed you again, deep and claiming — while his hips kept that torturous rhythm: fat fuckin’ cock rubbing slow through your glossed folds, teasing your achy clit, nudging your suckling hole, making you drip and clench and beg for the stretch you were dying for.

“Soon, baby,” he promised, voice thick with hunger. “Gonna give you every thick inch. Gonna ruin this pretty pussy so good you’ll feel me for days. But first… keep beggin’. Keep drippin’. Show me how desperate my sweet girl is for it.”

And he kept teasing, relentless — until your whole body was trembling, pussy clenching empty and greedy, clit throbbing achy and swollen, slick pooling under your ass in a sticky puddle while he watched you fall apart under his mean, loving touch.

Toji’s hips stilled for a second, his fat, glossy cockhead still notched right at your entrance, stretching the tight ring of your hole just enough that it fluttered desperately around him. Your clammy, slick walls were sucking greedily at the swollen tip, like your pussy was trying to pull him deeper even while fighting the stretch. He was so fuckin’ thick, the round mushroom head bloated and veined, ridged crown — catching on every soft fold as he pushed forward slowly, agonizingly slow.

You gasped high and sharp the sound cracking into a whimper — back arching off the mattress, plush thighs trembling where they were hooked over his hips. Your hole clenched hard on instinct — clammy, hot and so so tight it made his breath hitch rough in his throat.

“Fuck.. easy, sweetheart,” voice low and wrecked, one big scarred hand sliding under your ass to lift your hips just a fraction higher. “You’re grippin’ me like a vice already and I’ve barely got the tip in. So fuckin’ tight… this pretty little cunt’s never taken anything this big, huh?”

You shook your head — frantic little jerks — drool slipping from the corner of your mouth again as you stared up at him with glassy, pleading eyes.

Your clit still achy and swollen from his teasing, throbbing every time the base of his shaft dragged against it on accident. Slick poured out around his tip — thick, gluey strands coating the fat crown, dripping down his heavy balls in slow, shiny rivulets.

Toji groaned gutterally, his forehead dropping to rest against yours for a second while he fought not to just slam home. His cock throbbing hard inside that tiny stretch — veins pulsing against your clenching walls, pre leaking in fat drops that mixed with your cream and made everything even messier.

“Look at you tryin’ so hard for me,” he praised, voice soft and thick with adoration even as his hips rocked in tiny, teasing nudges. “Takin’ just the tip like such a good girl. Feel how she’s suckin’ on me? Fuck…your hole’s so tight and wet, baby. Grippin’ like she don’t ever wanna let go.”

He pushed forward another fraction — barely an inch more and your pussy resisted, walls fluttering wild around the fattened ridge of his crown. The stretch burned sweet — hot, the aching fullness made your toes curl and your nails rake down his broad back. A fresh gush of slick squirted out around him, coating his shaft, dripping onto the sheets in a sticky puddle.

“Haaah —Toji ” Your voice broke, high and wrecked, hips twitching up like you couldn’t decide if you wanted more or needed a second to breathe.

“Shhh, I got you,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth gently-sweet — tongue flicking out to catch the drool on your chin. “Doin’ so perfect. So so tight for me… gonna make it fit, yeah? Gonna stretch this sweet little pussy slow till she’s huggin’ every thick inch. You’re my good girl, my perfect, drippin’ girl. Just breathe for me.”

His free hand slid up your soft tummy, his palm spreading wide over the plushness there, fingers splaying to feel the way your muscles quiver under him. He rocked again — tiny, shallow thrusts that barely moved the tip in and out, just enough to let your walls flutter and adjust around the blunt head.

Every nudge made obscene wet sounds, — schlick- schlick-schlick — your slick squelching loudly around him, strings of it clinging to his veined shaft like they were trying to keep him buried.

“Feel that burn, baby?” he cooed, voice low and praising as he watched your face — eyes locking on every flutter of your lashes, every tremble of your lips. “That’s me openin’ you up. So tight it’s squeezin’ the cum right outta me… fuck, you’re leakin’ all over my cock. Such a messy, needy cunt. Love how she’s fightin’ me and still beggin’ for more.”

He pushed again — slower this time — watching with dark, hungry eyes as another inch sank in. Your hole stretched wider, your puffy lips hugging the thickest part of his crown, clinging glossy and white-knuckled around him. The stretch was obscene — your clit jumping every time the ridge dragged over it on the way in, fresh cream bubbling out to coat him.

“Haaah — fuck — there we go,” he breathed, thumb stroking slow circles over your lower belly where he could feel the faint bulge starting to form just from the tip and a little more. “Look at that… already makin’ a pretty little bump and I’m not even halfway. So fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. Takin’ me like you were made for it.”

You were sobbing softly now, broken little sounds as your hips canted up helplessly, trying to take more even as your walls spasmed around the invasion. Slick pouring steadily, thick and gluey — drenching his balls, soaking the sheets under your ass in a warm, sticky mess.

Toji leaned down and kissed you deep and slow, his tongue sliding against yours while he kept those tiny, rocking thrusts. Just the tip popping in and out, stretching you open, teasing your clenching hole, making your clit throb against the veined underside every time he pulled back.

“Doin’ so good,” he whispers  into your mouth between kisses. “My sweet girl takin’ just the tip so perfectly. Gonna keep goin’ slow, gonna make it fit inch by inch till this fat cock’s buried deep where you need it. You feel how hard I am for you? How much I’m leakin’? All ‘cause this tight little pussy’s grippin’ me like she never wants me to leave.”

One more gentle push and another thick inch goes sliding in and your back bows, a moan ripping out loud and raw as your walls flutter wild around him. He stills again, letting you adjust, his forehead pressing to yours, breath ragged.

“Almost there, baby,” he praises, voice thick with restraint and adoration. “So so tight… but you’re takin’ me so good. My perfect girl. Gonna fill you up soon, m’gonna stretch this sticky hole till it’s huggin’ every veiny inch. Ahh — Just a little more… just breathe and let me make it fit.”

His thumb finds your clit, and circles over the swollen bud slow and gently while he rocks another inch in shallow, keeping you on that razor edge of stretch and pleasure. Slick gushing fresh with every tiny thrust — coating him, dripping down, making the slide just a little easier even as your pussy fights to keep him right where he is.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your tear-streaked cheek. “Tell me how full you are already… how much you need the rest.”

Your answer is a broken whimper, your hips rolling up desperately, pussy clenching hard around just the tip and a little more now.

“Need… need all of you… please, Toji —”

He smiles slow, filthy but so fucking tender, then kisses you again, deep and claiming while his hips started that slow, relentless push forward again.

“That’s my girl,” he rasps against your lips. “Gonna give you everything. Gonna make this tight little cunt take every thick inch till you’re cryin’ and comin’ all over me.”

And inch by torturous inch he keeps making it fit. Slow. Sweet. Praising you through every clench, every gush, every trembling stretch until your pussy finally starts to yield — walls fluttering open, sucking him deeper, greedily and wrecked and so so ready for the rest.

Then Toji’s patience snapped like a thin wire, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest as his big scarred hands clamped around your soft waist. No warning. No gentle coaxing. Just raw, starving need. He grabs your little body like it was his to manhandle, his rough palms digging into your plush hips, flipping you onto your side in one swift yank that made the mattress springs squeak protest.

“Fuck ah I-I can’t take it anymore,” he rasps, voice thick and wrecked. “Need to go deeper. Need this tight cunt stuffed full, m’gonna make her take every fuckin’ inch now.”

He drags you down the bed, the sheets tangling around your ankles, until your ass hangs off the edge just enough, cheeks jiggling from the rough pull. Your face mashed into the rumpled comforter — cheek smushing against the soft fabric, drool already pooling under your agape mouth.

One hand flew out on instinct, your fingers clutching the fluffy stuffed bear you keep on the pillow (the one with the little bow tie you’d had since middle school), knuckles white as you gripped it like a lifeline while your body arches helplessly.

Toji presses your legs together, his thick thighs pressing your plush ones tight, forcing your chubby little cunt to pucker even more obscenely. Your fat pussy lips squished together now, glossy and swollen, the plump folds mashed into one slick, puffy seam that barely parts for the fat pink tip still teasing your entrance.

The position makes everything tighter — your gummy walls clenching harder, clit trapped between those squeezed-together lips, throbbing achy and trapped against the pressure.

He lines up, his veined, thick cock — throbbing heavy in his fist — and pushes in.

No slow tease this time.

The fat crown spears past your puckered entrance with a wet, filthy pop — stretching those mashed-together lips wide around his girth. Your hole sucking greedily and clenching so tight it made his eyes roll back,  but he doesn’t stop.

Just keeps feeding inch after thick, veined inch into your poor stuffed cunt, the squeeze so intense it forces thick ropes of your gooey cream to bubble out around him, coating his shaft in shiny white strands that drip slow down your inner thighs.

“Haah… fuck — listen to her,” he groans, hips snapping forward harder now that the angle let him sink deeper. “This chubby little cunt’s cryin’ so loud for me. Squeezin’ like she’s scared I’ll pull out… but she’s suckin’ me right back in. Fuckin’ perfect.”

You wail high, lewd and broken, your cries muffled into the mattress — voice cracking every time his cock punches deeper. Never been fucked like this, with legs squeezed shut making your pussy feel impossibly smaller, every ridge and vein dragging slow and mean along your gummy walls.

Your fat lips puckering tight around his base — stretching thin and glossy, clinging desperately like they were made to mold to his shape. The pressure mashes your clit right against the thick underside of his shaft — rubbing it raw with every brutal thrust, sending sparks shooting up your spine until your toes curl hard.

Toji loses it completely.

Big hands gripping your hips — fingers sinking into soft flesh hard enough to bruise, and he starts pounding. Deep, mean strokes that bottoming out with a wet slap every time his heavy balls smacks your clit.

Precum and your thick cream mixing into a frothy mess squirting out around his cock with every pull-back, dripping in sticky webs down your thighs, soaking the edge of the bed where your ass hangs off.

“Goddamn, look at this mess you’re makin’,” he pants, voice rough and praising all at once. “Gooey little pussy just spillin’ everywhere f’me. So fuckin’ cute how she’s creamin’ all over my dick… takin’ it so deep even when she’s squeezes this tight. My good girl…my filthy, drippin’ girl.”

Your cries turn desperate — muffled sobs into the stuffed bear you are clutching, tears streaking hot down your cheeks. Every thrust punches the air out of your lungs, his cockhead kissing your cervix mean and relentless, stretching your gummy walls wide around his veined thickness.

Your clit rubs mercilessly against him — trapped between those puckered lips, swollen and throbbing, building that coil tighter and tighter until your whole body shakes.

“Feel that?” he growles, leaning over you, his broad chest pressing to your back, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours. One hand slides up to cup your soft tummy — palm pressing down so he can feel the bulge of his cock moving inside you. “Feel how deep I am, baby? Stuffin’ this chubby cunt so full she’s leakin’ like a faucet. Gonna make you come like this.” legs squeezed tight, clit rubbed raw and pussy stretched mean around every thick inch of his.

He snaps his hips harder, the angle perfect now, his cock dragging right over that spongy spot inside while his shaft grinds against your trapped clit. Slick squelches loud and obscene, wet slaps filling the room, your gooey cream frothing white at the base of his cock, dripping in thick strands every time he pulls back.

You shatter hard.

Whole body convulsing, walls clamping down like a vice around his pounding cock, milking him greedily as you scream into the mattress. Fresh gushes of slick squirting out around him, hot and messy, soaking his balls, drenching the sheets, making every thrust even sloppier. Your clit throbs wild against him — overstimulated and raw, sending aftershocks after aftershock rippling through you until your legs shake uncontrollably.

Toji groans deep and feral, his hips stuttering as your pussy sucks him in tight.

“Fuck… Aaah yeah, come on my cock, sweetheart,” he praises, voice breaking with how close he was. “Squeezin’ so fuckin’ tight… makin’ such a cute mess f’er me. Good girl, my perfect, pretty girl. Gonna fill this stuffed cunt up soon… gonna pump you so full you’ll be leakin’ me for days.”

He didn’t stop, Toji kept fucking you through it, with mean, deep thrusts that made your ass jiggle, made your cries turn hoarse and wrecked. His veined cock dragged slow and filthy through your fluttering walls — still so tight from your legs squeezed together and clit still rubbing helpless against him with every slam.

“Haah mhnm fuck…m’not done yet,” he rasps, hand sliding down to spread one cheek, exposing where you were stretched obscene around him. “Gonna keep, ah goin’. Gonna ruin this pretty pussy till she’s cryin’ for more… till you’re so full of cum you can’t move.”

And he did — pounding harder, deeper, meaner all while you clutched your stuffed bear tighter, face buried in the mattress, drooling and sobbing and coming undone again and again around his thick cock that finally fit all the way inside your chubby, gooey, perfect little cunt.

Toji’s hips roll in one long, deliberate drag — pulling back just enough that his thick, veined cock starts to slip free from your stuffed little hole. Your sloppy pussy doesn't want to let go. Gummy walls clenching down hard — squeezin’ greedy around every ridge and bump like they’re scared he’d leave you empty.

His foreskin bunches up soft and slick around the fattened base of his crown as he withdraws — pink tip glistening obscene with a thick coat of your cream and his own sappy pre, strings of it stretching taut between your puffy lips and his shaft before snapping wetly against your inner thighs.

You whine high and utterly broken, face mashed deeper into the mattress, your cheek smushed against the soft fur of your stuffed bear, fingers clutching the little plush thing so tight the seams strained. Drool still pooling under your slacked maw, soaking the fabric while your hips twitch back helplessly, chasing the stretch even as he teases you with the slow retreat.

“Fuck haah… listen to that,” he rasps, voice low and filthy-thick with awe. “This nasty lil’ pussy’s makin’ the sloppiest sounds just ‘cause I’m pullin’ out. Squelchin’ like she’s beggin’ me to stay buried. So fuckin’ greedy, baby.”

He didn’t let you go empty for long.

Right when the fat pink tip was almost out — your hole fluttering desperately around the ridge, he leaned over you again, his broad chest pressing hot to your back — and spat. A thick, heavy glob of spit landing right on your stretched entrance — hot and messy — sliding down the puffy seam of your mashed-together pussylips before dripping slow into the clenching ring still hugging his crown, the added slick made everything even nastier, your syrup-thick cream mixing with his spit, bubbling white and frothy where your walls gripped him.

Toji groans deep, a rumble that vibrates straight through you as he pushes forward again. Slow and mean, feeding every thick inch back into your pussy until his hips slapped flush against your ass, his balls heavy and wet smacking your clit trapped between those squeezed thighs. Your pussy sucking him in greedy — gummy walls fluttering wild, clinging so tight it made his eyes roll back.

“Haah…there we go,” he praises, hands clamping harder on your soft waist — fingers sinking into plush flesh like you really are his personal fleshlight, something soft and warm and perfect to use. “Takin’ me all the way again. Feel how deep I am, sweetheart?” His cockhead now kissin’ your cervix… — mngh "Stretchin’ this sloppy hole wide. God your pussy’s so fuckin’ good. So tight even after all that cream you just gushed.”

He drew back again slowly and torturous, watching the way your fat pussylips dragged along his veined shaft, clinging glossy and swollen, trying to keep him inside. Nasty lil’ squelches filling the room — wet, obscene pops every time he pulls out halfway — your syrup-thick pussy noisily protesting, cream bubbling out in thick white rings around his base, dripping slow down your inner thighs in sticky trails that soaked the edge of the mattress.

Your sobbing is muffled into the stuffed bear, your whole body trembling as he manhandles you deeper into the bed. One big hand slides up your spine — pushing your face firmer into the comforter, while the other grips your waist harder, yanking your hips back to meet every slow, punishing thrust.

He spreads your fat pussylips wider with his thumbs — peeling them apart even as your legs stay squeezed tight together — exposing the glossy pink inside where his thick cock splits you open.

“Look at her stretch,” he growls, voice wrecked with how good it feels. Your plump lil’ lips puckering so tight around him… huggin’ every veiny inch like she was made for his cock. “Fuck mhng baby, you’re ruinin’ me. This pussy’s too perfect… too sloppy… too fuckin’ tight.”

He bottoms out again, harder this time, his cockhead bullying deep until you feel that familiar bulge in your lower tummy, the faint swell under his palm when he presses down. Your clit rubbed raw against the underside of his shaft — trapped and throbbing — every drag sending fresh sparks through your overstimulated nerves until your thighs shake uncontrollably.

Toji didn’t speed up. Didn’t rush. Just kept that slow, deep pace — drawing back until only the fat tip stretched your entrance, then sinking all the way in with one long, filthy glide. Each pull-out made your pussy squelch louder — cream frothing white at his base, dripping in thick ropes — each push-in forcing more of your gooey slick to bubble out around him, coating his balls, soaking your ass cheeks, turning everything into a warm, sticky mess.

“God mhm feel that?” he rasps, leaning down to nip the shell of your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “How your pussy’s clenchin’ every time I try to pull out? Squeezin’ like she doesn't ever wanna be empty. My good girl… my perfect, drippin’ girl. Takin’ this thick cock so deep… makin’ such cute, nasty noises for me.”

His hands tighten on your waist — using you like he owns you — pulling your hips back to meet every slow, punishing thrust while he grounds deeper, letting the fat crown drag over that spongy spot inside until your cries turn hoarse and wrecked.

Your stuffed bear was crushed against your chest now, your fingers white-knuckled and face buried so deep in the mattress you could barely breathe around the drool and tears.

He spat again, a thick glob landing right where you were stretched widest around him — watching it slide in, mixing with the mess until everything was even slicker and messier.

“Not stoppin’,” he promises, voice low and filthy-sweet. “Gonna keep fuckin’ this little pussy… till she’s cryin’ and cumin’ again. Till you’re so full of my cum you can’t move, doll Till every time I pull out you’re squirtin’ that syrup-thick cream all over me.”

One more long, slow drag out and your pussy noisily protests with wet, lewd squelches, then he sinks back in deep, bottoming out with a wet slap that made your ass jiggle, clit grind hard against him, walls fluttering wild around every thick, veined inch of his.

“Haah…fuck t-there’s my girl,” he groans, kissing the back of your neck soft and filthy. “Takin’ it so good… makin’ me lose my fuckin’ mind. Gonna keep usin’ you just like this… slow… aah… till you’re nothin’ but a creamy, shakin’ mess for me.”

And he did, he kept that torturous rhythm, his hands bruising your waist, cock stretching your sloppy hole wide, foreskin bunched… slick, spit and cream mixing into the nastiest mess while you clutch your stuffed toy for dear life, sobbing his name into the mattress, pussy clenching greedily and wrecked around his thick cock that owned you completely.

Toji’s hips stayed buried deep, his thick cock throbbing hot and heavy inside your stuffed pussy, every veiny inch hugged so tight by your gummy walls that pulling out even an inch felt like fighting gravity. But he didn’t need to thrust right now.

Not when he had you exactly where he wanted; face-down, ass-up on the edge of your bed, legs squeezed shut, chubby pussy lips puckered and swollen around the base of his shaft like a glossy, creamy ring.

Your pretty little hole was still fluttering around him — suckling greedily on every ridge, even after the last brutal orgasm ripped through you, leaving your thighs trembling and slick dripping in slow, syrupy ropes down the insides of your legs.

He leaned over you, his broad chest pressing hot to your back, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours, until his scarred lips brushed the shell of your ear.

One big hand stayed clamped on your soft waist, fingers digging possessive bruises into plush flesh, while the other slid down between your squeezed-together thighs.

Rough callused fingertips found your puffed-out clit immediately — swollen, fat and glossy from all the rubbing, peeking out from between those mushed puffy lips like a needy little button begging for more.

“Fuck haah… look at this messy thing,” voice low and wrecked with hunger. “So puffed up… so gooey and sappy from comin’ all over my cock. Can’t even hide how bad she wants it.”

His fingers started moving in filthy, lazy circles right over your swollen bud. Not fast. Not rough. Just slow, perfect rubs that made your clit jump and throb under the pad of his middle finger.

He smeared your own thick cream around it — mixing it with the frothy white ring still clinging to his base — making every glide slicker, hotter, nastier. Your pussy clenched hard around his buried cock in response — walls fluttering wild, milking him greedy even though he wasn’t moving yet.

You whimper high, the broken sound muffled into the stuffed bear you were still clutching like it could save you from how good it felt. Drool soaked the plush's fur, tears streaking hot down your cheeks, whole body shaking as those filthy circles kept coming — round n’ round, a slow pressure that built the ache back up fast.

“Haah… m’can’t stop touchin’ you, baby,” he groaned against your neck, nipping the soft skin where he’d already left dark bruises. “Even if I tried… fuck, this little clit’s too perfect. So fat and slippery… jumpin’ every time I rub right here.”

He pressed firmer, his middle finger circling tighter now, thumb hooking under to spread your puffy lips just enough to expose more of that sensitive pearl.

The motion dragging his cock the tiniest bit inside you — barely a rock, just enough to let the fat crown nudge your spongy spot while his fingers worked your clit relentlessly. Fresh slick gushed out around him, thick and syrupy — coating his hand, dripping down his wrist in warm rivulets that soaked into the sheets.

Your hips bucked back helplessly, your ass jiggling against his pelvis, trying to grind into his touch even as your pussy clenched tighter around the thick intrusion splitting you open.

Every filthy circle sent sparks shooting straight up your spine, your clit throbbed so hard it hurt in the sweetest way, walls spasming around his cock like they were trying to pull him even deeper.

“Goddamn…ya feel that?” he murmured, voice thick with praise and filth. “How your cunt ’s grippin’ me every time I rub this pretty clit? Squeezin’ like she’s beggin’ for more even though she’s already stuffed full. My good girl… my perfect, drippin’ mess. Look how she’s leakin’ just from my fingers. So fuckin’ sensitive.”

He sped up just a fraction, circles turning tighter, faster. The pad of his finger flicking quick over the swollen tip of your clit before smoothing back into those slow, filthy loops.

Your cries turned desperate, hoarse and wrecked, sobs muffled into the bear as your thighs shook harder, pussy fluttering wild around his cock. Thick cream bubbled out with every clench — frothing white at his base, dripping in sticky strands that clung to his heavy balls.

Toji groaned deep and feral, his hips finally rocking once, a slow, deep grind that dragged every veined inch along your gummy walls while his fingers never stopped. The dual sensation punched the air out of your lungs, clit rubbed raw and throbbing, cunt stretched wide and filled to the brim.

“Can’t get enough of touchin’ you,” he confessed, voice breaking with how wrecked he was. “This puffed-out little clit… so gooey and sappy… jumpin’ under my fingers like it’s alive. Fuck…baby, you’re gonna come again just like this. Gonna make this fat pussy squirt all over my hand while I’m still buried balls-deep.”

He pinched your clit gently, rolling it between thumb and finger, then went right back to those filthy circles, smearing more of your cream around the swollen bud until it glistened obscene under the fairy lights. Your whole body seized, your back arching hard, ass pressing back desperately against him, your narrow walls clamping down like a vice around his thick cock.

“That’s it ahh…come for me again,” he praised, lips brushing your ear, breath hot and ragged. “Let me feel this pussy milk me while I rub this pretty clit raw. My sweet girl… my filthy, pretty girl… gush for me, baby. Show me how much you love it when I can’t stop touchin’ you.”

One more tight, filthy circle pressed hard right over the tip and you shatter.

Whole body convulsing, pussy clamping down brutally around his cock, walls fluttering wild as thick spurts of slick squirted out around him, hot and messy — soaking his hand, drenching his thighs, pooling warm under your ass on the already wrecked sheets.

Your clit throbbed helplessly under his fingers, overstimulated and raw, sending aftershock after aftershock ripping through you until your legs gave out completely.

Toji didn’t pull his hand away. Just kept those slow, soothing circles, gentler now — petting your puffed-out clit through the tremors while his cock stays buried deep, throbbing hard inside your fluttering, creamy cunt.

“Haah…fuck…there’s my girl,” he sighs, kissing the back of your neck soft and filthy. “Comin’ so hard just from my fingers… makin’ such a cute, sloppy mess. Can’t stop touchin’ you, baby. Not when this little clit’s still jumpin’ for me… not when your pussy’s still grippin’ me like she never wants me to stop.”

He rocked once, letting you feel every thick inch while his fingers kept circling lazy, keeping you right on that overstimulated edge.

“Gonna keep goin’,” he promises, voice low and wrecked with adoration. “Gonna keep rubbin’ this pretty clit… keep fuckin’ you slow… till you’re cryin’ and squirting again. Till you’re nothin’ but a shakin’, creamy mess for me. My perfect girl… my filthy little thing… all mine.”

And he did, his fingers never stopping those filthy circles, cock grinding deep and slow, turning you into a drooling, trembling puddle while your stuffed bear stayed clutched tight in your shaking hands, soaked with tears and drool and the endless proof of how good he made you feel.

Toji’s cock was buried to the hilt, his thick-veined base flush against your swollen puffy lips, heavy balls pressed hot to your clit like they belonged there. Your little fat pussy was stretched obscene around him, your gummy walls parted wide, clinging desperate to every ridged inch like they’d forgotten how to close.

You were gaped already, your poor hole fluttering open every time he stayed still too long, the rim puffy and flushed dark pink, glistening with thick layers of your syrupy cream and his endless pre. Slick dripping steady from where you were joined, slow, sticky ropes that clung to his shaft, webbing down to his balls, pooling warm under your ass on the wrecked sheets.

Shaking, your whole body trembling, face still mashed into the mattress, drool soaking the stuffed bear you clutched like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your cries had turned hoarse, soft and wrecked whimpering every time his cock throbbed deep inside, nudging that spongy spot that made your toes curl and your tummy quiver.

He groans low, the sound ripping from his chest like it hurt to feel how tight you still were even after all the pounding, big scarred hands gripped your soft waist harder, his fingers sinking into plush flesh, holding you exactly where he wanted while he started to pull out.

Slow.

Agonizingly slow.

The drag was filthy, every veined inch sliding free with wet, obscene schlicks that filled the room. Your pussy lips dragged along his shaft, puffy and glossy, clinging greedily like they didn’t want to let go. The fat pink crown caught on your rim, stretching it wider one last time before popping free with a lewd, sucking pop.

Your hole gaped open immediately, pink and wrecked, fluttering helplessly around nothing, thick strings of cream stretching from your entrance to his dripping tip like obscene bridges before snapping wet against your inner thighs.

“Haah…fuck…look at that,” he said disbelieving,“This little hole’s gaped so pretty for me… still clenchin’ like she’s missin’ me already. So fuckin’ sloppy, baby. Drippin’ everywhere just ‘cause I pulled out.”

You whimpered, hips twitching back instinctively, chasing the emptiness even as your walls fluttered wild. But Toji wasn’t done teasing.

He lined up again, the fat tip nudging your gaping entrance, smearing thick pre over the stretched rim, then he pushed.

Deeper.

Harder.

One long, brutal glide that sank every thick inch back inside until his hips slapped flush against your ass, cockhead bullying past your cervix, stirring your guts up in that dizzying, overwhelming way that made your eyes roll back.

You felt him everywhere. Hot, heavy fullness stretching from your stuffed hole all the way up like he was rearranging you from the inside. Your tummy bulged faintly under his palm when he pressed down, feeling the outline of his cock moving deep, claiming every inch of your soft insides.

“Fuuuck…there it is,” he growled, hips grinding slow circles now, letting you feel him throb against your deepest walls. “Feel me in your throat, sweetheart? Stirrin’ up your guts… makin’ this pretty pussy taking me so deep she’s cryin’. My good girl… my perfect, stretched-out girl.”

Your cries turning guttural and raw, sounds muffled into the bear as he starts thrusting again, long punishing strokes that pull almost all the way out every time, only to slam back in deeper, harder, stirring your insides into a gooey, creamy mess. Slick squirting out with every pull-back, thick and white-frothed, coating his shaft, dripping down your thighs in warm rivers that soaked everything beneath you.

Then his thick thumb found your tight puckered asshole.

He didn’t ask…Didn’t tease.

Just pressed the blunt pad right against your clenched ring — hot, callused pressure that made your whole body jolt. Your hole fluttering instinctive, tight and untouched, trying to push him out even as your pussy clenched harder around his pounding cock.

“Shhh…relax for me, baby,” he murmured, voice low and filthy-sweet against your ear. ‘m'gonna plug this pretty little hole too. Keep you so full… till you’re shakin’ and sobbin’ for me.”

He pushes in so…so carefully, his thick thumb breaching the tight ring with a soft pop. The stretch burning sweet… the foreign fullness made your back arch hard, ass pushing back desperately onto both intrusions. Your asshole clamping down greedily around his thumb, sucking him into the first knuckle, while your pussy flutters wildly around his thick cock, walls spasming so hard it milks another thick spurt of pre deep inside you.

“Haah…fuck y-yeah,” he groans, thumb sinking deeper, and a slow twist of his thumb... has your hole clenching and fluttering around him. “Takin’ my thumb so good… tight little ass huggin’ me just like your pussy. Feel that? Both holes ngh stuffed f-full”… his cock stirrin’ your guts, thumb pluggin’ up your pretty asshole. “You’re mine, baby. All fuckin’ mine.”

He starts moving — thumb rocking shallow in time with his deep thrusts, cock slamming home every time his thumb pushes in, pulling out together in a filthy rhythm that makes your whole body rock forward into the mattress. Your clit rubbed raw against the sheets now — trapped and throbbing — every grind sending fresh sparks through your overstimulated nerves until tears streamed hot down your cheeks.

Your cries were nonstop, hoarse, wrecked sobs into your stuffed bear, your body trembling violently as he fucked you deeper, thumb plugging your ass, cock stretching your gaped pussy wide. Slick gushing with every thrust, thick, creamy ropes squirting out around his base, soaking his hand where it worked your plugged hole, drenching the bed in a warm, sticky puddle.

“God…look at you,” he praised, voice breaking with how close he was. “Takin’ everything… Such a good girl… my girl. Gonna make you come like this… gonna feel you milk me till I’m pumpin’ you full.”

He ground deeper, thumb twisting slow inside your tight ass, bulbous cockhead bullying your cervix, stirring everything up until the pressure coiled unbearable in your belly.

“Come for me, baby.” he says softly, lips brushing your tear-streaked cheek gently.

One more deep, brutal thrust, thumb sinking to the base, cock slamming home fully and you shattered.

Whole body convulsing, pussy clamping like a vice around his thick shaft, asshole fluttering wild around his thumb, clit throbbing helpless against the friction. Thick spurts of slick squirts out around him — hot and messy — soaking everything as you scream his name into the bear, tears and drool mixing on the sheets.

Toji goes all breathless, hips stuttering as your walls milked him ruthlessly.

“Fuck...yeah…take it, baby,” he pants, grinding deep through your orgasm. “Gonna come… gonna fill this pretty little cunt… gonna plug you so full you’ll feel me for days.”

And with one last deep thrust, thumb buried in your ass, cock throbbing hot and heavy inside your stuffed, creamy hole he starts to spill. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your gummed walls — pulse after pulse — stirring your insides even more as he keeps grinding slow, keeping you plugged front and back while you shook and sobbed and came undone completely around him.

And Toji Zenin still wasn’t done touching you.

Not by a long shot.

Toji finally eased his thumb out of your twitching little asshole, slow and careful, letting the tight ring flutter shut with a soft, wet sound that made your whole body shiver one last time. His cock slipped free next, his thick length dragging along your ruined walls until the fat crown popped out with a lewd, sucking pop.

A hot gush of cum followed immediately, thick, creamy ropes spilling from your gaping pussy in slow, obscene waves, dripping down your inner thighs, pooling sticky and warm beneath your ass on the already-soaked sheets.

You were trembling, completely spent, limbs heavy and breath coming in shaky little pants, face still buried halfway into the rumpled comforter with drool stringing from the corner of your swollen lips. Your stuffed bear was crushed, forgotten against your chest, fur matted and damp from tears and spit and everything else.

Toji didn’t move away.

He rolled you gently, almost tenderly — onto your back, big scarred hands sliding under your soft thighs and waist to lift you like you weighed nothing. He settled between your spread legs again, kneeling tall over you, sweat-glistening chest heaving while he looked down at the absolute mess he’d made of his pretty girl.

Your pussy was wrecked, lips puffy and dark, gaping open just enough to show the creamy white mess inside, clit still swollen and flushed, twitching with aftershocks. Cum leaked out in lazy pulses, mixing with your own slick, running in glossy trails down your perineum.

But his eyes softened when they reached your face.

All tear-streaked cheeks, glassy eyes, puffy lips still shining with spit.

“My pretty girl,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked but so fucking gentle now it made your chest ache.

He leaned down slow, his big heated body blanketing yours without crushing you and cups your face in both rough palms. Thumbs brushed away the fresh tears clinging to your lashes, smearing them gently across your flushed skin.

Toji didn’t pull out.

Not even a little.

He stayed buried to the root, his thick, heavy cock throbbing slow and deep inside your stuffed cunt, every veiny inch hugged so tight by your gummy walls it felt like your pussy had forgotten how to exist without him filling it. The fat pink crown was pressed right up against your cervix — hot, insistent pressure that made your tummy flutter every time his heartbeat pulsed through the shaft.

Cum was already leaking — thick, sticky ropes of it flooding your insides from the last brutal spill, so much that you could feel the warm, syrupy weight of it pooling deep in your guts, pressing against your walls like liquid heat.

Your poor hole was gaped just enough around his base, puffy lips stretched thin and glossy, clinging desperate to the thickest part of him like they were scared he’d slip free. But he wasn’t going anywhere, he just held you there, his hips flush to your ass, one big scarred hand splayed wide over your soft tummy so he could feel the faint swell where his cock and all that cum was making you bulge ever so slightly from the inside.

“Shhh… just like this, sweetheart,” he murmured low against the back of your neck, lips brushing damp skin in soft, lazy kisses. “Just cock warming. No more fuckin’ right now. Gonna let this pretty pussy soak in every drop I gave her… keep her nice and full, yeah?”

You whimpered — soft, a wrecked little sound muffled into the stuffed bear still clutched tight to your chest. Your whole body was trembling, overstimulated, oversensitive, thighs quivering where they were still squeezed shut and held down beneath his weight.

Slick and cum mixed into a warm, sticky mess between you, dripping slowly out around his base in thick, pearly strands that clung to your inner thighs, soaking the sheets in a warm puddle that smelled like sex and him and you all tangled together.

He shifted then, just a tiny rock of his hips, not thrusting, just enough to let his cock stir the cum inside you. The movement made a wet, filthy squelch, your walls fluttering greedy around him, milking another thick bead of leftover seed that oozed deeper into your guts.

You felt it, hot and slippery coating every inch of your gummy insides, threatening to drool out if he moved too much, but he didn’t. He just held you closer — arm banding around your waist, palm pressing firmer over that soft little bulge in your tummy like he was proud of how full he’d made you.

“Look how cute you are,” he whispered, voice rough and tender all at once. “Face all flushed… droolin’ on your lil’ bear… pussy so full of my cum she’s practically purring. My pretty girl… my perfect girl.”

He turned your face gently with scarred fingers under your chin, tilting you just enough so he could lean over your shoulder and kiss you slow. Soft at first — scarred lips brushing yours, tasting the salt of your tears and the cherry gloss long smeared away. Then deeper, tongue sliding lazy against yours, swallowing every tiny whimper you gave him while his cock stayed perfectly still inside you, just throbbing, just warming, just owning.

You moaned into his mouth, a soft and needy sound as another warm trickle of cum leaked out around his base, sliding slow down your puffy lips. Your clit still swollen and achy, brushed the underside of his shaft with every tiny shift, sending little aftershocks through your core that made your walls flutter and clench around him again.

“Haah…fuck — there she goes,” he groaned against your lips, kissing you deeper, filthier. “Clenchin’ so sweet even when she’s just holdin’ me. Feel all that cum sloshin’ around inside you? So warm… so sticky… gonna keep it all plugged up in there till it’s leakin’ out slow outta you.”

His free hand slid up and cupped the side of your face, thumb stroking slow over your tear-streaked cheek while he kissed you again and again. Forehead pressed to yours now, breath mingling hot and ragged, his green eyes dark and soft as he stared down at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute like this,” he murmured, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead — lingering, reverent. “All hugged up on my cock… pussy threatenin’ to drool my cum everywhere but still grippin’ me so tight. My good girl… my sweet, stuffed girl. Just stay like this for me, yeah? Let me keep you warm… let me feel how full I made you.”

He rocked once, barely a movement, just a slow grind that stirred the thick load inside you without pulling out. More cum bubbled out hot and slippery coating your puffy lips, dripping slow down to where your clit throbbed against him. You whimpered high and broken — hips twitching instinctively even though you were too spent to chase anything.

Toji shushed you gently, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, your mouth again in soft, endless kisses.

“Just this. Just me inside you… keepin’ all that cum nice and warm where it belongs. My pretty girl… my perfect little thing… all hugged up and full for me.”

He wrapped both arms around you then, pulling your soft body back flush to his chest, cock still buried deep, still throbbing slow, still leaking the last drops into your stuffed, creamy pussy. Forehead kisses rained down, soft, sweet and lazy in the best way, while he held you close, letting you feel every heartbeat through his shaft, every warm pulse of cum settling deeper inside you.

“Stay just like this,” he whispered one last time, lips lingering on your forehead. “My cute, sweet girl… mine.”

And he didn’t move.

Just held you there — thick cock warming your poor, gaped, cum-stuffed pussy while you trembled and whimpered and clung to your bear, face buried in his neck, soaking in the sticky, overwhelming heat of being so perfectly, completely full of him.

Toji’s arms locked around your waist like steel bands, scarred hands splaying wide over the soft curve of your lower belly, fingers digging in just enough to bruise the plush skin as he yanked you down hard, with no warning. No slow descent. Just raw, possessive force that slammed your dripping pussy all the way onto his thick, throbbing cock in one brutal, claiming drop.

The stretch hit like lightning — your poor gaped hole, forced to swallow every last veiny inch at once, walls parting wide around the fattened girth until his heavy balls slapped wet against your clit and the fat pink crown punched right up against the deepest part of your cervix again.

You felt it everywhere — hot, overwhelming fullness stretching from your stuffed entrance all the way up into your guts, making your tummy bulge visibly under his palm where he pressed down firmly to feel himself buried inside you.

“Haah…f-fuck — there it is,” he growled low against the shell of your ear, voice wrecked and deep, breath scorching your neck. “Takin’ every thick fuckin’ inch, sweetheart. All of it. No more teasin’. Just my cock stuffed deep where it belongs.”

Your cry ripped out raw and broken — high, desperate wails muffled into the crook of his shoulder as your body jolted from the sudden depth. Your gummy walls fluttered wild around him, clenching helpless. Spasming like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to push him out or suck him deeper.

Slick and leftover cum from before gushed out around his base in thick, creamy ropes,frothing white at the stretch, dripping slow down his heavy sack in warm, sticky trails that soaked into the sheets beneath you both.

He didn’t let you adjust. Just held you there, impaled, trembling, your  pussy clenching greedily around the full length of him — while one hand slid up to fist in your hair, yanking your head back gently but firm so he could see your face.

Tears streaked hot down your cheeks, lips swollen and parted in endless soft whimpers, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth again like you’d forgotten how to swallow.

“Look at you,” he says proudly, green eyes dark and blown with hunger as he stared down at where your puffy lips were stretched thin and glossy around his base — clinging so tight the rim looked almost white-knuckled. “My pretty girl takin’ everything… pussy so full she’s shakin’. Feel that? Feel how deep I am?” His cockhead kissin’ your womb and stirrin’ up all that cum he already pumped in you.

He rocked his hips once, a slow grinding roll that dragged every ridge along your fluttering walls without pulling out. The motion made a wet, filthy squelch, your stuffed pussy protesting the fullness even as it clenched harder, milking him greedy. More thick cream bubbled out — syrupy and white — coating his shaft, dripping down to where your clit throbbed helpless against the veined underside.

“Nngh…Toji —” Your voice cracked,hoarse and wrecked, nails raking down his broad back again, leaving red trails over hard muscle. “S’too much… s’too deep —”

“Shhh, I know, baby,” he murmured, scarred lips brushing your tear-streaked cheek in soft, filthy kisses. “Doin’ so good though. Takin’ this fat cock like you were made for it. Feel how your pussy’s grippin’ me? Squeezin’ like she don’t ever wanna let go. My perfect girl… my sweet girl.”

He pulled you down harder, another sharp yank that seated him impossibly deeper, crown bullying against that spongy spot inside until your back bowed, thighs trembling violently around his hips. Your clit grinding raw against his pelvis — swollen and achy — every tiny shift sending sparks shooting through your core that made your walls flutter and clench harder around him.

Toji groaned deep, the guttural sound vibrating straight through you, then wrapped both arms around your waist, crushing your soft body to his chest. One hand slid down to cup your ass, fingers spreading the plush cheeks wide so he could feel where you were stretched obscene around him, while the other pressed firm over that faint bulge in your tummy, thumb stroking slow circles over the spot where he could feel himself moving inside.

“Fuck…look at this,” he breathed, voice thick with praise and filth. “My cock makin’ a pretty little bump right here… fillin’ you up so good you can see it. Gonna keep you right here… just like this”… Cock-warmin’ you deep while he kisses your sweet mouth.

He tilted your chin up, scarred thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip, then claimed your mouth in a slow, filthy kiss. Tongue sliding deep, tasting the salt of your tears and the cherry gloss long gone, swallowing every broken whimper you gave him while his cock throbbed hot and heavy inside your stuffed pussy.

No thrusting. Just deep, possessive grinding — tiny rolls of his hips that stirred the thick load of cum already flooding your cunt, making it slosh warm and sticky against your walls.

You moaned into his mouth, soft needy sounds, as another warm trickle leaked out around his base, sliding slow down your puffy lips to where your clit pulsed against him. Your pussy clenching helpless and fluttering wild — threatening to drool more of that creamy mess if he moved even a little, but he didn’t. Just held you impaled, full, trembling, while he kissed you deeper, tongue fucking slow into your mouth in the same lazy rhythm his cock was grinding inside you.

“So fuckin’ cute,” he whispers against your lips between kisses, forehead pressing to yours, breath mingling hot and ragged. “All hugged up on my dick… pussy so full she’s shakin’. My pretty girl… my perfect little thing… takin’ everything I give her. Gonna stay just like this… keep you warm and stuffed… let you feel everything while I kiss you stupid.”

Wanting to feel you constantly, he kept pressing soft kisses to your forehead, then your temple, to your cheek and your mouth again — endless, filthy affection while his arms stayed locked around you, cock buried to the hilt, cum sloshing warm and sticky deep inside your gaped, creamy pussy.

“Mine,” he murmured one last time, lips brushing your forehead in a final, claiming kiss. “All fuckin’ mine.”

And he didn’t move.

Just held you there, thick cock warming your stuffed, trembling pussy, while you whimpered and clung and soaked in the overwhelming heat of being so completely, perfectly taken.

The room had gone quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan stirring the thick summer air, fairy lights flickering lazy gold across the rumpled sheets like dying embers. You were out cold — completely fucked-out and boneless, face half-buried in the crook of Toji’s neck, one arm slung loose over his chest, legs still tangled with his like you couldn’t bear to let go even in sleep.

Your breathing had evened out into those slow, deep little puffs that made your lips part every exhale, drool already pooling at the corner of your mouth onto his collarbone. Cute. Wrecked. His.

Toji hadn’t moved much since he’d pulled you down onto every thick inch and held you there, his cock still buried deep, warming your cum-stuffed pussy while the last pulses of his cum settled heavy and hot inside you.

Your walls kept fluttering around him in tiny, sleepy spasms — soft little squeezes that milked another lazy bead of seed from his tip even though he wasn’t thrusting anymore.

The mess between you was obscene; thick ropes of cum and your syrupy cream leaking slow out around his base, coating his heavy balls, dripping in warm, sticky trails down your inner thighs and soaking the sheets beneath your ass in a cooling puddle that smelled like sex and salt and him.

He stayed like that for a long while, his arm banded around your waist, scarred palm resting possessive over the faint swell in your lower tummy where his cock and all that cum made you bulge just enough to feel under his hand.

Every time you shifted in your sleep, tiny and little unconscious rolls of your hips, your pussy clenched tighter around him, gummy walls sucking greedy like even unconscious you didn’t want him to leave. It made his cock twitch — still half-hard, still leaking the last sluggish drops into your overflowing heat.

Eventually the ache in his thighs and the way your breathing had gone soft and even, told him you were really gone, deep in that post-orgasm haze where nothing existed but warmth and fullness and him.

Toji exhaled slowly through his nose, a low satisfied rumble in his chest, then started to move.

Careful. So fucking careful.

He slid one big hand under your thigh, lifting it just enough to ease the angle, while the other stayed splayed over your tummy, thumb stroking slow circles over that soft pudge like he was soothing you even in your sleep. Then he pulled.

Slow…

Inch by torturous inch.

The drag was filthy, your poor gaped hole clinging desperate to every veiny ridge as he withdrew, gummy walls fluttering weak protests around the retreating thickness. Slick and cum made obscene wet sounds, soft schlicks and squelches that filled the quiet room, thick white cream bubbling out around his shaft the second he started to slip free.

Strings of it stretched taut between your puffy lips and his glistening cockhead — snapping slow and wet against your inner thighs as he kept pulling.

When the fat pink crown finally popped free with a lewd, sucking pop, your hole gaped open, pink and wrecked, fluttering helpless around nothing. A thick gush of cum followed immediately — hot, sticky ropes drooling slow out of your stretched entrance, sliding down your ass crack in pearly trails, pooling warm under you on the already soaked sheets. Your clit, still swollen and flushed, twitched once at the sudden emptiness, a tiny bead of cream clinging to the tip like a pearl.

Toji stared, breath catching rough in his throat at the sight of his cum leaking from your used little pussy. So much of it. Thick and white and endless, proof of how deep he’d fucked you, how full he’d kept you. Your pussy looked ruined in the prettiest way — lips puffy and parted, hole still trying to clench shut but too stretched to close completely, just drooling his load in slow, obscene pulses.

“Fuck,” he breathed voice low, wrecked, almost reverent. Toji finally took a long inhale, eyes locked on the sight. His pretty girl’s pussy all sloppy and leaking his cum like she couldn’t help it even asleep. Fuck… it made his cock twitch soft against his thigh, already half-interested again for just looking.

He leaned down slow and carefully…not to jostle you too much, breath fanning hot over your sensitive skin and pressed the softest, filthiest kiss right to your swollen clit. Gentle. Worshipful.

Lips barely brushing the swollen bud…a warm, lingering press that made your hips twitch tiny in sleep, a soft whimper slipping from your throat. He kissed it again…slower, tongue flicking out just once to taste the mix of your cream and his cum still clinging there. Salty-sweet messy and perfect.

“My pretty girl,” he whispered against your pussy, voice so low it was more breath than sound. “Took me so deep… kept me warm all night. Look at you leakin’ my cum even when you’re sleepin’. So fuckin’ cute.”

Scarred lips brushing the sensitive bud, gentle and lingering, his tongue flicking out once to taste the mix of your cream and his cum clinging there. You whimpered in your sleep, a soft, needy little sound. Your hips twitched forward instinctively even when unconscious, thighs trembling once before settling again.

One more kiss, open-mouthed this time…lips sealing soft around your clit for a heartbeat, sucking the tiniest pull that made your thighs tremble before he let go. 

Toji smiled against your pussy…slow, dangerous and so fucking tender, then kissed higher; one soft press to your puffy mound, another to the soft dip of your lower belly where the bulge was slowly fading. 

“Fuck… gotta move, baby,” he rasped, voice gravel-thick with leftover lust and something softer underneath. “Your dad’s gonna be home soon. Can’t leave you lookin’ like this… all fucked-out and leakin’ me everywhere.”

He didn’t let you wallow in it.

He moved careful, almost gentle, sliding off you and scooping your limp, trembling body into his arms like you weighed nothing. Your legs dangled uselessly; your head lolled against his shoulder; your ruined pussy leaked a slow, sticky trail down his abs as he carried you to the tiny attached bathroom.

He set you on the edge of the tub softly with utter care, then ran warm water over a clean washcloth. No rough scrubbing. Just slow, careful wipes, dabbing away the cum and slick smeared across your inner thighs, between your ass cheeks, over your swollen mound. He was thorough, gentle thumbs parting your puffy lips just enough to clean the creamy mess still oozing from your gaping hole, wiping slow circles around your clit until you whimpered and twitched.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, kissing your forehead while he worked. “Gotta get you all clean… can’t have you drippin’ all over the place when your dad walks in.”

When you were as clean as he could get you, skin still flushed and sensitive, pussy still puffy and tender, he carried you back to the bed. He stripped the worst of the soaked sheets (bundling them into a ball to deal with later), flipped the comforter over the damp spot, and tucked you in slowly, pulling the soft blanket up to your chin, smoothing it over your trembling body like you were something precious.

He knelt beside the bed for a long minute, just watching you, then leaned down and pressed a final, lingering kiss to your swollen lips. Slow. Drooly. Tongue brushing yours one last time like he was memorizing the taste.

He pulled the rumpled sheet up over your body, tucking it around your shoulders gentle and careful, like you were something precious he didn’t want to break even though he’d just spent hours fucking you… making sure your shoulders were covered, your bare feet hidden under the blanket.

He smoothed a hand over your soft tummy, feeling the faint bloat still there from how full he’d left you and then leaned down to kiss your forehead too. Long, tender press of scarred lips.

“My good girl,” he whispered against your mouth, forehead resting against yours. “Took me so fuckin’ well… let me ruin you so pretty… now sleep, yeah? I’ll handle the rest. You just stay tucked in and dream about how full I made you.”

He kissed your forehead again, soft and possessive, then stood.

You watched through heavy lids as he pulled on his sweatpants (still stained, still smelling like sex), grabbed the bundled sheets, and slipped out the door quiet as a shadow.

The room smelled like him.

Like cum and sweat and summer heat.

Your pussy still ached, emptier… now but throbbing with the memory of how thick he’d been, how deep, how much he’d filled you.

You curled tighter under the blanket, legs pressing  together to keep the lingering warmth inside and drifted.

ಇ.author's note: reupload from @/torusbabe

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with giddy excitement, you hurry to seal the letter in the matching envelope, licking it shut. you look at the corner of the mail, the empty space with the address staring right back at you. a mischievous little smile tugs at your lips. maybe you can make one up? surely no one would actually send it. it would most likely sit in a landfill after the post office would realize it wasn't real, you thought. that's perfect!

you wrote in your neatest handwriting:

142-0934 Shizuoka, Musutafu, 1-43-70 Kyomei Building 150 Japan

you knew that it was a one in a trillion chance that this place even existed. no way, you knew pretty much all of the apartments in musutafu. none were named kyomei to your knowledge. you slipped the letter into your backpack, called a quick “bye, mom!” down the stairs, and practically skipped the whole way to the mailbox on the corner. the metal flap shut loudly after you dropped it in, clanging in finality.

the letter vanished into the vast void as far as you knew because no reply ever came, reaffirming your belief that this was a legitimate way to vent out your feelings.

you didn’t know it then, but the universe has a terrible sense of humor when it comes to granting wishes.

obliviously, you kept writing whenever you felt that ache for something more bothered you too much. you'd pour your heart out to the mystery man who lived at the non-existent address in your city. you told him about bad scores, watching your classmates harness their quirks while you had to silently cheer them on. 

you wrote away about your fears, hopes, dreams that you still selfishly believed in. you even told him about your parents' divorce that came abruptly during your junior year of high school, something that was difficult for you to divulge to anyone about. 

you didn't know how many letter you had sent before you finally ceased them. must have been at least thirty, or something in the range. you ended up opting to become a realist like your father always preached to you. you threw yourself into your studies like your life depended on it. you knew that law was your best route given your status as a quirkless person. it certainly helped that you loved the thrill of a debate. your nice stationary started to gather dust in the bottom of your desk drawer, but you couldn't live in your fantasy world forever. 

eventually, your work paid off and you graduate in the top 1% of your class. you landed a junior associate position at a mid-tier firm that handled quirk discrimination cases right out of university. you found peace in burying yourself in your work, preferring to drown out your thoughts with legal jargon and witness statements.

three years go by, and you find yourself in a position of disgust once more when your office decided to hold a floor valentine's day party. courtesy of your lovely co-worker yuma, a very sparky and jumpy woman who loved to hug anyone and everyone. she was sweet, but definitely a lot to deal with when you already work a high-stress job. 

"listen, it's just one date! pleeeease, i promise you'll have fun!" the pink haired woman is practically on her knees at your desk, hoping you'll cave. you let out a small groan. 

"you're covering annotations for the next three cases i have this week. deal?" she immediately launches into a fit of squeals, jumping up and down. "thank you thank you thank you! ahh, my matchmaking side job is finally taking off," she leaves your office as quickly as she came, you unable to get another word in. you take a deep sigh. whatever, it's just a couple hours.

unfortunately for you, the man yuma picked was probably the last guy you'd approach in a room full of people. 

yuma swore he was ‘normal, stable, and really tall’. he was definitely tall. but along with that came an arrogance that could mirror endeavor. 

"so yuma mentioned you’re quirkless,” he said, leaning in like he wanted to speak in hushed tones. “that’s actually really inspiring. i mean, look at you! working at a law firm, still putting yourself out there. most quirkless people just… accept their place, you know? support roles. administrative stuff. that’s where they shine.”

your chopsticks paused mid-air.

“support roles,” you repeated slowly.

“yeah! like, you’re clearly smart. you could be an amazing legal assistant for hero agencies. or work in quirk regulation policy. that’s important work. not everyone needs to be in the spotlight.”

you gave him your best professional smile, the one you used in depositions when you were trying your best not to rip someone a new one.

“actually,” you said calmly, “i just won a discrimination settlement last month for a quirkless teacher who was denied promotion. precedent-setting case. i argued it myself in front of the district panel.”

haruto blinked, and then laughed like you had told a cute joke.

“wow. feisty. i like that! didn't know they gave young lawyers cases so early on.” you fought the urge to stab yourself in the eye.

"i've been doing cases since i got out of law school. i'm twenty eight."

the rest of the dinner was a slow descent. he kept steering every topic back to quirks, which clearly got old the moment he spoke the first time. you were ready to leave when he went on about how his reinforcement quirk made him 'decent in bed, by the way'. every time you tried to shift the conversation to something normal like books, travel, or literally anything else, he circled back.

when the check finally arrived, you pulled out your card faster than he could react. with haste you say your goodbyes and make up an excuse about an early morning hearing. you leave haruto in the dust of his own bigotry, good riddance.

you finally got home at eleven, kicking off your heels and pouring yourself a generous glass of red wine. and then another, staring at the wall for twenty full minutes. drinking alone with no music was genuinely one of the saddest things you've done in recent times.

you flop onto your bed, looking at your window with a sigh. your eyes wander lower to your desk, catching at a familiar pink box. your stationary box.

you sloppily crawl across your bed, making way to pick it up from underneath all your files. it was slightly yellowed, smelling faintly of your teenage bedroom. your hands moved on autopilot, the wine loosening everything you’d kept locked away for years. against your better judgment, you had already whipped out a pen and the same parchment you had used all those years ago.

you sign it with your full name as you always had done. penned down the address without another thought, slipping on your coat and walking the three block to your mailbox to drop it in. 

you chuckled to yourself sadly on the way back. “idiot,” you mutter. strangely, your chest did feel lighter. when you arrived back at your place, you instantly fell asleep as the drinking ultimately worked as your melatonin. 

a week later, you're back to your routine and forget you even sent the letter. work raged on as it did, and so did your exhaustion. it had been a particularly brutal day with multiple back to back meetings. your shoulders were knotted tight, eyes burning from staring at your computer for hours. all you wanted was a hot shower and some katsudon. 

you almost skipped checking the mailroom on your way up, nearly walking past the row of silver boxed in the lobby of your building. you stop because of muscle memory, unlocking the small metal thing as usual. your pupils skim the papers quickly. junk mail, water bill.. a cream colored envelope. you almost drop the whole stack.

your name was written across the front in clean, confident handwriting. it was slightly slanted, but nice to look at. the return address made your stomach flip so violently you had to grip the edge of the mailbox with your free hand.

the postmark was real, three days old. the stamp was a standard issue cherry blossom design. everything about it look painfully legitimate. you fight the urge to scream in the empty place. for a long moment, you just stood there with your heart slamming against your ribs. this was not funny in the slightest but it had to be a prank. a cruel coincidence! maybe someone found your old letters and decided to mess with you. or you were hallucinating from the lack of sleep and too many cans of celsius. 

with a jerky movement, you don't wait for the elevator and take the stairs like a lunatic. two at a time, shallow breathing. the second you step inside your place you kicked the door shut with a slam, dropping your stuff and the rest of the mail on the floor with no decorum. you sat down at the kitchen nook still wearing your coat and heels. 

your fingers tremble as you slid a nail under the sealed flap. inside was a single sheet of matching cream stationery with red accents, folded once. the handwriting was the same neat and sharp script. you had to read the first line three times before your brain accepted that words were actually there, written.

you lowered the paper slowly, your head spinning.

you were going to be sick.

kyomei 150 has a real resident. a real resident, who got your fucking letter.

he's so nice and cute and i wanna cry

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© sozila 2026, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

you were a princess, born with noble and royal blood that carried the weight of generations before you. it was a quiet certainty that had never once been questioned as it settled into every part of your life from the moment you first opened your eyes.

as the youngest princess of the emerald empire, your place in the world had been decided long before you were old enough to understand what it meant, long before you could even speak your own name.

your older brother was raised to be the heir, the future king who would rule with authority and knowledge, taught to lead and command and carry the legacy of your family forward, while you were something else entirely. you were softer in appearance but just as important. a princess who would one day be placed where she was most useful, a piece in the quiet and constant game that was the monarchy.

you were loved, there was never a doubt about that.

it showed in the way your parents looked at you, in way your brother indulged you, in the way the entire palace seemed to soften around your presence. you were the only princess, the youngest child, and you were treated as something precious, something to be protected and cherished, and they spoiled you in ways that made your life comfortable and warm, but even in that warmth there were rules that never changed.

your family was traditional, deeply so, and their love never wavered from the expectations they held for you.

from a young age, you were taught what it meant to be a woman in your position, and those lessons were repeated so often that they became second nature, something you accepted without hesitation.

a woman’s first duty was to be a wife, to stand beside her husband and give him children, however many he desired, without complaint, without question, because that was her purpose. the second duty followed naturally, to be a mother, to raise those children, to nurture them while the husband worked and ruled and carried on the responsibilities outside the home.

it was a cycle that had existed long before you and would continue long after, and you saw it in the women who came before you, in your mother who carried herself with quiet grace as she fulfilled her role, in your grandmother, in your great grandmother, and every woman in your lineage who had done the same without hesitation.

you never questioned it, not once, because it was all you had ever known, and there was a kind of comfort in that certainty.

this is what you are meant to be.

the thought came easily and without resistance, and you accepted it as truth.

while your father spent his time guiding your older brother through the complexities of ruling, teaching him about politics, the history of their land, the alliances and conflicts with foreign nations, you were guided down a different path entirely.

your mother oversaw your upbringing with careful attention, shaping you into what she believed a proper royal woman should be. she taught you discipline, how to hold yourself, how to move, how to speak with intention and restraint, and she taught you grace, the kind that made every action appear effortless even when it was practiced a thousand times before.

you spent countless hours learning what was expected of you, your days filled with lessons in etiquette where every gesture mattered, where the way you held a teacup or greeted a noble could reflect not just on you but on your entire family. you learned to dance, not simply for enjoyment but as a skill, something that would be required of you in court and gatherings, your steps precise and controlled under the watchful eyes of your instructors. you studied cultures beyond your own, memorizing traditions, customs, and expectations of other lands so that one day you would not embarrass your future husband’s court.

and above all else, you were taught obedience. it was a necessity. it would allow you to become the perfect wife you were meant to be.

you listened, you learned, and you never resisted, because there was nothing in you that wanted to. you were good, you were proper, you were everything they needed you to be.

so when the time finally came, when you reached the age where marriage was no longer a distant idea but an immediate reality, you did not protest when the arrangements were made, you did not question the decision when your future was decided for you.

you were told where you would go, who you would marry, and what it would mean for your kingdom, and you accepted it with the same quiet understanding you had always carried.

that was how you found yourself leaving the emerald empire, the only home you had ever known, and being sent to the scarlet region.

the difference between the two lands was impossible to ignore, it settled into your senses the moment you crossed the borders, the shift so stark that it almost felt unreal.

the emerald empire lived up to its name in every sense, a land rich with deep green forests that stretched endlessly, fields of flowers that bloomed in colors that softened the eye, rivers that reflected the sky like glass as they wound through the kingdom. the air there had always felt light, fresh, filled with the scent of earth and life, and the palace itself stood tall and elegant among it all, a place that felt open and welcoming even in its grandeur.

the scarlet region was something else entirely.

it rose from the land like something carved from the bones of the earth itself, a kingdom built atop a massive dark mountain that seemed to loom over everything around it. the stone was not polished or soft in appearance, it was jagged in places, heavy as if it had been shaped by fire and force rather than careful hands. the ground beneath it was uneven, darkened by ash and heat, and the closer you came, the more you could feel the difference in the air. it was thicker, warmer, carrying the faint scent of smoke that never fully disappeared.

the mountain itself stretched high, its peak often hidden behind dark clouds that clung to it as if they belonged there, and somewhere deeper within. there was the constant reminder of the volcano that gave the region its name, a presence that could not be seen fully but was always felt. it was not a place of soft beauty, it was a place that demanded attention. it felt alive in a harsher, more dangerous way, and yet there was something undeniably powerful about it.

the fortress that stood upon it was just as imposing, built from the same dark stone, rising high with sharp edges and heavy walls that spoke more of strength than elegance. it was not delicate, not meant to impress with grace, but with dominance, with the kind of presence that made it clear this was a kingdom that did not bend easily.

this was where you were meant to belong now, far from the green and gentle lands of your home, in a place that burned in scarlet and shadow, where everything far less forgiving.

and yet you stepped forward without hesitation, because this was your duty, and you had always known that one day you would be sent away to fulfill it.

you knew since you were ten.

the memory had settled into you quietly, it wasn’t a shock to you, it was inevitable. it had always been waiting for you even before you were old enough to understand what it meant.

it had been a warm afternoon in the emerald empire.

you had been seated beside your mother, your hands folded neatly in your lap as you were taught to do, your back straight even then because discipline had already rooted itself deep into your bones.

your father and your older brother had been speaking across the long table, their voices calm but firm, their words carrying weight even if you did not fully grasp them at the time. you remembered the way your mother’s hand rested lightly over yours, a silent instruction to listen, to pay attention, to understand that what was being discussed was important.

it was then that you first heard of the treaty.

not just a simple agreement, not just a passing arrangement between two lands, but something far more binding, something that would shape the future of both nations and, though you did not know it yet, your own life.

the emerald empire, prosperous and abundant, a land overflowing with natural wealth, had long held resources that other nations sought after. among them, the most prized were the emeralds themselves, stones that were not only symbols of status and power but also held practical value in trade, crafting, and even in certain forms of energy use that had been developed over time.

the scarlet region, in contrast, was not a land of abundance in that sense, but it held something far more dangerous and far more valuable in times of unrest.

power.

military strength that few could rival.

the treaty, as it had been explained in terms that would later become clearer to you as you grew older, was both an agreement of peace and a formal alliance. it was structured with precision, written in language that left little room for misinterpretation, signed under the authority of both ruling powers to ensure its permanence.

the emerald empire shall supply the scarlet region with an agreed upon and consistent quantity of emerald resources, the amount determined through mutual negotiation and subject to periodic reassessment under stable conditions.

in return, the scarlet region shall provide military support to the emerald empire, offering protection, reinforcement, and armed assistance in times of conflict, threat, or war, under the obligations defined within the alliance.

it was balanced and it made sense, even to those who were not directly involved in politics.

one land provided wealth, the other provided strength. together, they ensured stability, or at the very least, the illusion of it.

but treaties like that were rarely sealed by ink alone.

they required something more binding, something that ensured loyalty beyond written words.

and that was where you came in.

the alliance was finalized not only through the signatures of two rulers but through a betrothal.

between you, the youngest and only princess of the emerald empire and the sole heir of the scarlet region, katsuki bakugo.

you did not know his name at ten in the way you would come to know it later.

back then, it had just been a name spoken among many others, one that held importance but did not yet carry weight in your mind. you had simply listened, your gaze lowered as expected, your fingers resting against your mother’s as she gently squeezed your hand once, a quiet reassurance or perhaps a reminder.

this is your duty.

as you grew older, the details became clearer.

the scarlet region did not follow the same traditions as your homeland. where the emerald empire upheld strict customs, where succession was determined by lineage and only passed on upon death to the oldest son, the scarlet region operated under a different set of rules, ones that were far less rigid and far more dangerous.

there, a ruler could step down whenever they deemed it appropriate. there was no obligation to rule until death. there was no enforced waiting.

at first, it sounded almost freeing, almost progressive in a way that contrasted your own structured upbringing. but as you learned more, as history lessons became more detailed and less softened for your ears, you began to understand what that truly meant.

power did not remain in the hands of those who were unwilling to give it up.

not for long.

stories, whispered at first and then later taught more directly, spoke of rulers who had been found lifeless in their chambers, their bodies still and cold before any official declaration of abdication had been made. others were said to have fallen ill suddenly, their decline too quick, too convenient, leaving the throne open for the next in line.

poison.

assassination.

betrayal.

these were not rare occurrence, they were part of the system.

the scarlet region thrived on strength, and strength was proven not just in battle but in the ability to take and to hold power by any means necessary. it was a land where weakness was not tolerated, where hesitation could mean death, and where loyalty was often conditional.

they were barbaric in nature, as many in your homeland described them, though never in official statements. it was a quiet understanding, one that lingered beneath formal diplomacy.

and yet, despite that, or perhaps because of it, they were powerful.

that power was what your kingdom needed.

that power was what secured your fate.

katsuki bakugo had ascended the throne in his early twenties, far earlier than most rulers in your own land would have ever been allowed to. but his case had been different.

his father had never wanted the crown. that much had been made clear in every account you had heard.

he had ruled because he had to, because the position had been his responsibility, but there had never been any true desire behind it. and so, the moment he believed his son was capable, the moment he was certain that the boy had grown into someone strong enough to take over, he stepped down.

willingly.

a rare occurrence in a land where most rulers had power taken from them rather than surrendered.

that was how katsuki became king.

young, powerful, and already carrying a reputation that spread far beyond the scarlet region itself.

they called him the dragon king.

the title alone was enough to spark curiosity when you first heard it, but the explanation behind it made it something else entirely.

he rode a dragon.

not just any beast, not just some distant creature tamed through force, but one bound to him in a way that was deeper, more personal, more dangerous.

eijiro kirishima is a dragon hybrid and katsuki’s right hand, his closest companion, his weapon, and his ally.

the stories described them as inseparable, two forces that moved as one, their presence on the battlefield enough to turn the tide of war before it had even fully begun. it was said that when the dragon king took flight, when the skies burned with the presence of that creature beneath him, there was no room left for doubt.

fear followed then victory followed short after… always.

and now, that same man was the one you were meant to marry.

though the pair interested you more than anything.

hybrids were rare.

even in lands filled with strange creatures, old bloodlines, and ancient magic that had existed long before kingdoms were ever built, hybrids remained uncommon enough to be spoken about with curiosity and caution. stories about them traveled across nations in whispers and rumors, changing slightly depending on who told them, but one thing always remained the same.

once a hybrid found the one they belonged to, their loyalty became absolute.

it was said they did not serve the way ordinary soldiers served a king. it went deeper than duty and far beyond simple obedience. the bond between a hybrid and their chosen master was something fierce, instinctive, almost animalistic in nature. once formed, it lasted for life.

they protected, obeyed, and stayed.

even death itself was said to struggle separating a hybrid from the one they devoted themselves to.

you had heard stories growing up in the emerald empire. servants whispered about dragon shifters in hushed voices while preparing your baths or brushing your hair. noble women spoke of them with fascination during gatherings while men discussed them as weapons that could change the outcome of wars. some stories painted hybrids as dangerous beasts pretending to be human while others claimed they were more loyal than any knight sworn by oath.

you had never seen one before.

not until now.

the realization settled into you the moment the large doors of the throne room opened.

the room was massive, carved from dark stone that stretched high above your head into towering ceilings supported by enormous pillars etched with old markings and scars from time. fire burned from iron braziers mounted against the walls, their flames casting flickering orange light across the gloomy chamber. unlike the bright halls of the emerald empire filled with sunlight and polished marble, this place felt heavy.

ancient.

the air itself carried the faint scent of smoke and iron.

your footsteps echoed softly as you walked forward.

the king’s council and court lined both sides of the long walkway leading toward the throne, their eyes fixed entirely on you. warriors stood among nobles instead of guards standing separately from politicians like in your homeland. here they seemed to blend together into one brutal court where strength mattered just as much as status.

you could feel their stares. some were curious. some judgmental. some openly assessing you as though trying to determine whether the foreign princess walking toward their king was worthy enough to stand beside him.

still, your posture never faltered. not once.

your head remained high, your expression calm and serene exactly as you had been taught since childhood. every movement was graceful and measured as you walked across the dark stone floor.

your dress stood out immediately against the dullness of the castle.

soft lilac silk flowed around your body with every step, the fabric delicate and elegant beneath the firelight. silver embroidery climbed along the sleeves and bodice in intricate patterns resembling vines and blooming flowers from your homeland. sheer layers of fabric draped from your arms and trailed lightly behind you across the floor.

in this dark place of stone and ash and smoke, the dress almost looked unreal.

the only other strong color in the room came from the red-haired hybrid standing beside the throne.

his hair was bright like burning crimson beneath the firelight, wild and striking against skin. large dragon wings rested folded behind him, the scales along them dark red and gleaming faintly. even from where you stood, you could see sharp scales trailing along parts of his neck and arms while red horns stuck on his forehead.

and his eyes never left the king.

you understood the stories then.

slowly, you reached the foot of the stairs leading toward the throne.

without hesitation, you lowered yourself into a proper curtsy, bowing your head respectfully. though you were royalty yourself, you stood in a foreign kingdom before another ruler. your mother had drilled that lesson into you countless times growing up.

respect the customs of the land you stand in.

your voice was soft and composed when you spoke. “my king.”then you lifted your gaze and finally saw him properly.

katsuki bakugo sat sprawled across the throne like he had been born for it… like the throne itself belonged beneath him.

his vermillion eyes locked onto yours immediately, sharp and intense enough to make your breath still for a moment. his ash blond hair looked messy and untamed as though no one would dare attempt controlling it.

he looked dangerous, beautifully dangerous.

his entire torso was bare, leaving every inch of hard muscle exposed beneath the firelight. scars littered parts of his skin, old marks that only made him appear even rougher, even more intimidating. his body looked carved from stone itself, broad shoulders leading down to a powerful chest and strong arms wrapped with strips of orange fabric around his forearms and hands.

a dark red cape lined with thick fur rested across his shoulders, the heavy material falling behind him while the fur framed his neck. black tattered pants hung low on his hips tucked into worn brown boots that looked made for battle instead of ceremony. and around his neck hung layered necklaces made from stone, jade, teeth, and rough beads that clicked softly whenever he moved.

beside his throne rested a massive broadsword. the blade alone looked large enough to split a man in half.

the room had gone silent.

completely silent.

your eyes remained locked with his as he slowly stood from his throne. the movement alone shifted the atmosphere in the room. he descended the stairs with slow swaggering steps, each one heavy against the stone floor. he did not rush. he looked like a predator approaching something that had caught his attention.

his eyes never left yours.

not once.

when he finally stopped in front of you, his body towered over yours easily.

you suddenly understood why stories about him spread across kingdoms because there was something overwhelming about him, something that demanded attention.

your breath caught quietly in your throat when he suddenly lifted a hand and pinched your chin between his fingers. his touch was rough as it was warm. he tilted your head upward slightly so he could look at you better.

the entire room seemed to hold its breath.

you could feel his gaze dragging across your face slowly, studying every detail in silence for several long seconds… then his lip curled.

“tch. at least they had the decency to send me a pretty little princess.” his voice was rough and deep, carrying easily through the silent throne room.

heat crept beneath your skin instantly.

before you could even react, he scoffed and released your chin before turning away slightly. “i might actually kill them then myself if they had given me one that looked like a mountain troll.”

a few people in the court laughed nervously.

you stayed perfectly still.

then katsuki waved a hand dismissively. “eijiro, send the woman to her quarters.”

the command was directed toward the red-haired hybrid beside the throne.

unlike katsuki’s permanent snarl and sharp gaze, the hybrid smiled warmly at you the moment his name was called.

and somehow, in this cold dark throne room filled with warriors and strangers, that smile was the first thing that felt welcoming.

you walked through the dark halls of the castle in silence, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly against the stone beneath your shoes as the heavy doors of the throne room closed behind you.

in the corridor, the walls were made from dark stone carved rough in some places and smooth in others as though parts of the castle had been built directly into the mountain itself. large torches lined the hallways every few feet, their flames flickering wildly and casting shifting shadows across the walls and floors. the firelight painted everything in deep shades of orange and gold, but it did little to soften the gloom surrounding the place.

there were no large windows letting sunlight spill through the halls. no fresh scent of flowers drifting through open corridors. instead the air carried traces of smoke, leather, iron, and something faintly earthy that reminded you of ash after rain.

in front of you, eijiro walked at an easy pace as he guided you through the winding halls just as the king had ordered.

your eyes drifted toward him quietly.

back in the throne room, nearly all of your attention had been trapped on katsuki bakugo himself. it had been impossible not to stare at him when he looked the way he did sitting upon that throne like some wild king from ancient stories.

now, with the two of you alone in the halls, this was the first time you truly got a proper look at the dragon hybrid.

your gaze slowly scanned over him.

like katsuki, his torso was completely bare beneath the warm firelight, exposing toned muscle across his back and shoulders that shifted with every step he took. his body looked strong in a different way than the king’s. where katsuki carried sharpness and intimidation, eijiro looked sturdy and grounded… protective.

metal pauldrons rested over his shoulders, dark and jagged in shape almost resembling broken pieces of rock layered over one another. leather bracers wrapped around his forearms while fitted leather pants and armored boots completed the rest of his attire. several knives rested securely along the belt around his waist.

but none of that held your attention for long. your eyes kept returning to the scales.

patches of deep red scales spread across parts of his arms and shoulders, blending into his tan skin naturally. more scales traced along the sides of his face near his jaw and temples, catching the firelight whenever he moved.

his hair was a vivid red that matched the horns protruding from his forehead. large leathery wings remained tucked behind him neatly despite their size, the dark red membranes shifting slightly every now and then as he walked.

you had never seen anything like him before.

your staring lasted just a second too long.

eijiro glanced over his shoulder before a grin spread across his face. “y’know, princess, if you keep staring at me like that i’m gonna start thinkin’ you like what you see.”

heat rushed to your face instantly. your eyes widened before you quickly looked away. “i’m so sorry,” you said softly, your voice embarrassed. “i did not mean to stare.” you hesitated for a moment before glancing back at him carefully. “it is just... this is my first time seeing a hybrid in person. let alone a dragon hybrid.”

eijiro let out a warm chuckle. “hey, don’t worry about it,” he said easily, waving a hand dismissively. “seriously. there’s no need to apologize. i get that a lot.”

his relaxed tone eased some of your embarrassment almost immediately.

you looked at him again, more carefully this time. “does it bother you?”

“nah.” he shrugged. “people get curious. especially people from other kingdoms. honestly, i’d probably stare too if i saw somebody with giant wings for the first time.”

you found yourself smiling faintly at that. the sight seemed to encourage him further.

“plus,” he continued with a grin, “you’ve been pretty respectful about it. some people act weird.”

“weird?”

“yeah.” he snorted. “either they’re terrified or they ask if i breathe fire.”

your brows lifted slightly. “can you?”

eijiro barked out a laugh so suddenly that it echoed through the hallway. “okay, see? that one’s fair.”

you lowered your gaze quickly, suddenly feeling foolish. “i apologize. that was inappropriate.”

“hey, no.” he shook his head immediately. “i’m messing with you. i do breathe fire. only on my dragon form though.”

his easygoing nature made conversation strangely comfortable despite how unfamiliar everything around you was. for a moment, the tightness sitting in your chest since arriving at the scarlet region loosened slightly.

“so,” eijiro said after a moment, glancing at you curiously. “what’s the emerald empire really like?”

your expression softened. “It is beautiful,” you answered quietly. “very different from here.”

you looked around the dim hallway before continuing.l “there are gardens everywhere. flowers grow along most parts of the palace grounds and the walls are covered with vines and roses during warmer seasons.”

eijiro listened closely. “sounds nice.”

“It is peaceful,” you admitted. “the air smells sweet during spring.”

“huh.” he smiled. “guess this place probably feels kinda… intense compared to that.”

you hesitated before nodding slightly. “a little.”

he laughed softly. “yeah, sounds about right.”

for a few moments the two of you continued walking while talking quietly.

you asked him questions about the castle, about the scarlet region, about dragons and hybrids. he answered all of them openly, seeming almost excited by your curiosity rather than annoyed by it.

in return, he asked about your home, what kind of things you liked, whether all nobility in the emerald empire were taught so formally.

“pretty much,” you admitted softly.

“that sounds exhausting.” eijiro said.

“it can be.” you let out the faintest laugh.

eijiro glanced at you again before speaking carefully.“you nervous?”

you knew immediately what he meant. your fingers tightened lightly together.

“about the king?”

he nodded.

you were quiet for a moment before speaking honestly. “i do not think he likes me.”

eijiro suddenly laughed. not cruelly, almost fondly. “trust me,” he said, shaking his head. “you’d know if katsuki doesn’t like you.”

“I would?” your brows furrowed slightly.

“oh, definitely.” he grinned. “he’s not exactly subtle.”

you thought back to the throne room. to the way katsuki had looked at you, the roughness in his voice, and to the way his fingers had held your chin.

your face warmed slightly at the memory.

eijiro noticed immediately and grinned wider. “see?”

you quickly looked away. “i simply assumed he was displeased by this arrangement.”

“well,” eijiro admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “he definitely wasn’t happy about being forced into marriage at first.”

your chest tightened slightly, but before you could speak, he continued.

“katsuki’s just bad with people sometimes. especially women.”

you blinked. “women?”

“pretty women,” he corrected with a teasing grin.

you looked down immediately, embarrassed at his constant compliments towards you.

eijiro laughed softly again before continuing more gently. “seriously though, don’t overthink him too much. he’s rough around the edges but he’s a good person. you’ll see pretty soon how he actually is when he dislikes somebody.”

the conversation slowly drifted again before you asked quietly, “how long have you known him?”

eijiro’s expression softened immediately. “since we were kids.”

you looked up at him curiously while he smiled faintly down at you.

“hunters caught me when i was eight,” he explained. “dragon hybrids sell for a lot depending on where you are.”

your eyes widened slightly. you remembered learning about how hybrids treated in some parts. some were either killed and butchered to be sold for their parts, or they were sold for entertainment. hybrids were rare as it is, but dragon hybrids were even more rare making them more valuable.

“they kept me trapped for a while.” his tone remained casual but you still felt sadness curl in your chest. “katsuki found me,” he continued. “he was around eight too. little psycho fought grown men with a knife.”

you stared at him as you listened, trying to take it all in.

“seriously. kid was terrifying… and i was a kid!” eijiro laughed.

you could strangely imagine it. after seeing katsuki earlier, just from that brief interaction, you can already tell he was much of a menace at eight as he is now.

“he saved you.” you said.

“yeah.” his voice softened. “and i stayed with him after that.”

“you are loyal to him. i’m not surprised.” your gaze drifted toward his wings.

eijiro looked at you for a moment before nodding once. “always.”

something about the way he said it made the old stories about hybrids echo through your mind again.

once a hybrid found the one they belonged to, their loyalty became absolute.

eventually, the two of you stopped in front of a massive pair of doors at the end of a quieter hallway.

“welcome to your new quarters, princess.” eijiro pushed them open.

you stepped inside slowly and was met with an enormous room.

dark stone walls surrounded the space but heavy curtains in deep crimson softened parts of it while large fur rugs covered portions of the floor. a massive fireplace burned along one side of the room, filling it with warmth. shelves carved from black wood lined the walls while candles flickered across various surfaces. the bed itself was enormous, layered with thick dark fabrics and furs.

despite the roughness of the castle’s aesthetic, the room still felt strangely luxurious.

eijiro watched your reaction carefully. “i know it’s probably completely different from your home,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “but the king made sure your quarters were comfortable for you.”

your eyes widened slightly. “he did? really?”

eijiro smiled sheepishly. “well... not really.”

your brows lifted in confusion at that.

“but he approved of all the things brought to your room! so that’s something!”

you could not help the soft laugh that escaped you. he reminded you strangely of a large puppy, earnest and friendly.

“thank you, eijiro. truly.” you nodded politely.

his grin returned immediately. “no problem. you are the future queen of the dragon lord. i live to serve you for you are his.”

his.

he stepped back toward the doorway. “i’ll send your new servants in to help with your bath before you retire for the night.”

“thank you.” you nodded again.

“get some rest, princess.” with that, he stepped outside and slowly closed the large doors behind him.

silence settled over the room.

you stood there for a long moment before slowly walking deeper inside, taking every little thing in. finally, you sat down carefully on the edge of the massive bed. your fingers brushed against the heavy sheets beneath your hands.

it was soft, warm… and foreign.

your gaze drifted slowly around the unfamiliar room.

this is my home now.

and for the first time since arriving in the scarlet region, the reality of it truly settled into your chest.

the last couple of weeks quickly fell into a repetitive pattern that slowly wore away at your patience no matter how hard you tried to remain understanding about the situation.

every morning you would wake up inside your chambers high within the dark stone walls of the scarlet fortress and ask one of the servants or guards whether the king was available, only to receive the same carefully rehearsed answers in return.

the king was occupied. the king was handling important matters. the king had already left the castle grounds before sunrise.

after hearing those excuses day after day, you eventually stopped asking as often because humiliation started creeping beneath your skin each time another servant avoided your eyes while informing you that your own betrothed apparently had no time for you.

most of your days were spent alone inside your chambers afterward. you ended up reading nearly every single one of the books on your shelves out of sheer boredom.

the books inside the scarlet region were nothing like the gentle romances and elegant poetry collections kept inside the libraries of the emerald empire. these stories were brutal and excessive and strangely honest about the people who lived within this kingdom.

there were tales about ancient wars fought between dragon riders that ended with entire mountainsides collapsing beneath fire and bloodshed. there were stories about barbarian kings who conquered lands with their bare hands and queens who poisoned enemies during feasts. some books were so violent that you occasionally found yourself staring blankly at the pages afterward trying to understand how someone even thought to write such horrifying details.

others were scandalously inappropriate.

one evening you accidentally spent an entire hour reading a story about a warrior taking a noblewoman against a castle wall. one of your handmaidens nearly dropped a tray in shock after realizing what you were reading. afterward she refused to look you directly in the eyes for the rest of the night while you quietly closed the book and pretended not to understand why her face had turned bright red.

still, despite the strange books and lonely silence surrounding most of your days, there was one part of your routine that you genuinely began looking forward to.

eijiro.

the dragon hybrid visited you almost every single day without fail.

sometimes he would arrive during breakfast and keep you company while the two of you ate together inside your chambers. other times he would take you through different sections of the castle while explaining the history behind certain halls and statues carved into the stone walls.

he told stories easily and enthusiastically, often speaking with his hands while his large red wings shifted behind him whenever he became excited.

unlike katsuki, who felt sharp and difficult to approach, eijiro was warm in a way that made conversation come naturally.

he answered your endless questions without irritation.

he explained the volcanoes surrounding the scarlet region and the old traditions involving dragon riders. he told you about battles fought generations ago and pointed out ancient carvings etched into the fortress walls. sometimes he made you laugh without meaning to. sometimes you caught yourself smiling more around him than you had since arriving here.

over time, your nervousness around the hybrid slowly faded.

and if you were being honest with yourself, there were moments where you quietly wondered who exactly you were supposed to be marrying. because while katsuki bakugo remained nothing more than a distant shadow constantly avoiding your presence, eijiro kirishima was the one actually beside you every day.

by the time three weeks had passed since your arrival in the scarlet region, you realized with growing disbelief that your wedding was only a week away.

a single week and yet you still had not properly spoken to katsuki since the first day you arrived. the realization irritated you more than you cared to admit.

that evening you sat in front of the vanity mirror inside your chambers while slowly brushing through your hair with careful strokes. soft firelight flickered across the room while one of your handmaidens prepared fresh oils nearby. you were waiting for eijiro again because he promised earlier that morning he would visit after finishing training with the soldiers.

you had begun expecting him.

which was exactly why surprise shot through you when the chamber doors suddenly burst open hard enough to slam against the stone walls.

your head snapped upward immediately.

katsuki bakugo stood in the doorway.

for a second, the entire room felt painfully still.

his broad figure nearly filled the entrance as firelight danced across his exposed skin and the heavy fur draped around his shoulders. his ash blonde hair looked slightly messy like he had run his hands through it repeatedly and those sharp crimson eyes locked onto yours instantly with an intensity that made your breath catch inside your throat.

it had been weeks since you last saw him.

weeks.

slowly, you stood from your seat before lowering your head respectfully. “my king,” you greeted softly. “what an honor it is to finally be graced by your presence.”

katsuki stared at you for a moment before clicking his tongue. “quit talking like that,” he muttered as he stepped further inside the room. “you sound like one of those damn council fossils.”

you lifted your gaze carefully toward him. “forgive me. i was simply trying to greet my future husband properly.”

“yeah, well, stop it.” he said, and despite his harsh tone, his eyes remained fixed on you far too intensely for comfort.

you slowly set the brush down against the vanity table. “to what do i owe this sudden visit?” you asked calmly. “i assumed you were occupied with your duties… as usual.”

something unreadable flashed across his expression at that.

then you continued before he could answer.

“it has been difficult, i must say. when the king is always occupied with ‘state affairs’ and his right hand is the only one willing to provide a tour of the grounds.”

katsuki’s jaw immediately tightened. “hair-for-brains has been babysitting you?” he asked sharply.

you frowned slightly at the insult. “eijiro has been kind,” you corrected as you stepped away from the vanity. “he told me about the volcanoes, the dragon-kin, the hybrids, and the history of this region. he has been a better guide than my own betrothed.”

a rough laugh escaped katsuki though there was no real amusement behind it. he moved closer until the warmth rolling off his body surrounded you completely. “kirishima’s an idiot who gives away secrets for free,” he scoffed. “if you wanted to know about this kingdom, you should’ve come to the source, not the help.”

your eyebrows lifted slightly. “i tried,” you answered, your voice firmer than expected. “every time i approached your chambers, your guards informed me you were busy breathing fire at your generals. eventually i began wondering if you were hiding something.”

for the briefest second, something shifted across his face. his stare softened just enough to notice before the scowl returned again. “i wasn’t hiding,” he said roughly. “i was preparing. do you have any idea what it takes to merge an emerald seat with a scarlet throne? despite the treaty, the court is looking for a reason to tear you apart the moment you step onto the altar.”

the words struck harder than you expected. your breath caught quietly in your throat and for a moment, you simply stared at him.

you had known this marriage was political from the very beginning. kingdoms did not bind themselves together through royal blood for romance. this union meant trade routes, military alliances, security, power, stability between two lands that could strengthen each other greatly. you understood that. you had been taught that since childhood.

but despite understanding all of that, despite knowing nobles could be cruel and proud and difficult, a part of you still had not expected that there were truly people within this castle who looked at you and saw someone unworthy.

you had crossed an entire continent for this marriage, you had left your home behind, your family, your kingdom, everything familiar, and somewhere within these dark stone halls, there were people waiting for you to fail.

they were watching and judging you, hoping you’d slip and fall and break you neck on the way down.

katsuki reached toward you suddenly, his gloved hand hovered near your chin. for a brief second, it looked as though he intended to touch you. then his jaw tightened sharply and he pulled his hand back with visible irritation, almost seeming angry at himself for the impulse.

“i didn't have time for royal pleasantries,” he growled. “but since you and shitty hair seem to have hit it off so well, i suppose you’ve learned enough to hold your own.”

despite yourself, your lips twitched faintly. “i’ve learned that the king is temperamental, guarded, and apparently very jealous of his second-in-command,” you said softly, tilting your head.

katsuki froze, his eyes widened for the briefest moment before narrowing into dangerous slits, a low sound rumbled from deep in his chest.

it sent a chill crawling down your spine.

“jealous?” he repeated sharply. “don't flatter yourself. i just don't like what’s mine being lectured by a soft-hearted mutt.”

his words made something uncomfortable twist in your chest.

your his property.

slowly, you stepped closer toward him until barely any space remained between your bodies. you could feel the heat radiating from him like fire against your skin.

“is that all i am to you?” you asked quietly. “property?”

katsuki stared down at you, his pupils shifted strangely. the sharp crimson of his eyes darkened until the color looked molten beneath the torchlight.

when he leaned closer, your breath caught, his forehead nearly brushed yours. “you’re a week away from being the queen of the scarlet region,” he said in a low gravelly rasp. “you’re not property, princess.” his gaze dragged across your face slowly, too slowly. “you’re the only thing in this godforsaken fortress that isn't made of ash.”

your heart stumbled painfully inside your chest. before you could respond, he continued.

“and if you think i’ve been busy playing soldier, you’re wrong.” he leaned even closer, close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. “i’ve been making sure that when you finally walk down that aisle, no one is left alive who thinks they can challenge us.”

us.

“eijiro kept you distracted,” he muttered. “i kept you safe.”

silence filled the room after that.

your mind struggled to keep pace with everything he was saying.

you had thought he hated this arrangement. thought he was avoiding you because he wanted nothing to do with you. yet now he stood before you speaking about protecting you as though it had become his responsibility long before you ever wore his name.

“there are truly people here who oppose me that much?” you asked quietly.

katsuki scoffed. “there are people here who’d oppose the sky if it changed color for too long.” he stepped back slightly before dragging a rough hand through his ash blonde hair.

“the scarlet court is full of old bastards obsessed with bloodlines and strength. you’re foreign, soft, and refined. they think emerald nobles spend more time playing music than surviving winters. despite the benefits this wedding can give our kingdom, they don’t think you’re fit to be queen.”

“that is not true.” your brows furrowed faintly.

“i know that,” he snapped immediately. “they don't.” his jaw clenched again. “they think you’ll break.”

something stubborn rose inside your chest at that. you lifted your chin slightly. “and what do you think?”

his eyes locked onto yours instantly, intensely burning. “i think,” he said slowly, “that anybody who crossed kingdoms to marry into this hellhole without crying halfway through has more spine than half the idiots sitting in my council chamber.”

heat rushed unexpectedly into your face.

before you could answer, katsuki abruptly turned away. “come with me.”

“what?” you blinked.

“you heard me.” he strode toward the door.

confusion crossed your face immediately. “your majesty, where are we going?”

“tch. just move.”

you hesitated only a second before following after him and the moment you reached him, his hand suddenly grabbed yours. your breath caught sharply. his grip was large and rough and overwhelmingly warm around your hand.

before you could react properly, he yanked you forward behind him. “quit dragging me,” you gasped softly.

“quit dragging your feet.”

the chamber doors burst open as he pulled you into the corridor.

the dark halls stretched endlessly ahead, lit by fire torches burning against black stone walls. shadows flickered across the floors as servants quickly moved aside at the sight of the king storming through the castle with his future queen in tow.

you struggled slightly to keep pace with his long strides. “where are we going?” you asked again.

“you ask too many questions.”

“that usually happens when someone drags another person through a castle without explanation.”

he shot you an irritated glance over his shoulder. “you wanted to know why i’ve been busy so badly, right?”

you blinked. “yes…”

“then shut up and keep walking.”

despite his harsh tone, he never let go of your hand, not once. and somehow that fact lingered in your mind more than anything else.

katsuki continued dragging you through the castle halls with long aggressive strides that forced you to keep close behind him if you did not want to stumble over the hem of your dress. his hand remained wrapped tightly around yours, rough and calloused from years of swordsmanship and battle, his warmth almost startling against your softer skin.

you tried not to stare too openly at everything around you, but it was difficult. the scarlet region fascinated you. even after weeks of exploring with eijiro it still felt foreign to you.

your eyes drifted upward as you noticed enormous carvings etched into the high ceilings.

“those are incredible,” you murmured softly.

katsuki glanced upward briefly before grunting. “hm.”

you looked back at him. “what do they mean?”

“they’re old carvings.”

“i can see that.”

his eyes flickered toward you and for a second, you thought you caught amusement there, almost hidden. “smart mouth,” he muttered.

“i was simply asking.” you blinked innocently at him.

he clicked his tongue before finally answering. “they tell the story of the first kings. every ruler in the scarlet region traces their bloodline back to them.”

you looked back toward the carvings again with interest. the dragons were enormous in the stone art, wings spread wide across the ceiling while warriors stood beneath them holding weapons toward the sky.

“so the real dragons did come first?”

“obviously.”

“you do realize not everyone grew up here, yes?”

“annoying.” he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. despite the insult, he still answered. “before the kingdoms were built, dragon ruled these mountains. then people started worshipping them. eventually the strongest warriors bonded with them.”

“bonded?” your eyes widened slightly.

“dragon pacts.” his grip tightened faintly around your hand as he continued leading you down another hallway. “some humans formed bonds with dragon-kind. loyalty for loyalty. strength for strength.”

your thoughts immediately drifted toward eijiro. “is that why hybrids exist?”

“partly.”

“you sound reluctant to explain.” you looked at him curiously.

“because you ask too many damn questions.”

“and yet you keep answering them.”

he shot you another look over his shoulder. this time you definitely saw it, the corner of his mouth twitched. gone almost immediately.

he’s enjoying this.

you followed him down a massive staircase leading deeper into another section of the castle. the air grew warmer the lower you went, enough that you could feel heat brushing against your skin.

“why is it hotter here?” you asked.

“lava tunnels under the mountain.”

your eyes widened. “there is lava beneath the castle?”

“we’re built into a volcanic mountain, princess. what did you think was under us?”

you stared at him. “rocks?”

he barked out a laugh suddenly, a real one. rough and sharp but genuine enough that it echoed through the corridor. “unbelievable.”

heat crept into your cheeks at the sound. you had not expected him to laugh, especially not because of you.

the two of you continued walking until the hallway opened into a massive chamber lined with weapons mounted against the walls. swords. axes. spears. shields. some looked old enough to belong in museums while others appeared freshly sharpened.

you slowed immediately. “this is beautiful.”

“it’s an armory.” katsuki snorted.

you stepped closer toward one of the blades hanging on the wall. the sword was massive, far larger than anything you had ever seen used back home.

“people actually fight with these?” you asked.

“what the hell do you think they’re for?” he spat, his eyebrows furrowing as he spoke.

you glanced at him carefully. “you truly speak as though every question pains you.”

“because half your questions have obvious answers.”

“for you, perhaps.”

he stared at you for a moment before crossing his arms over his bare chest. “you really know nothing about this place.”

there was no mockery in his voice this time. only observation.

you looked down briefly. “i was taught about diplomacy between kingdoms and trade agreements and court etiquette. not weapons and volcanoes and dragon pacts.”

silence settled between you for a brief moment.

then katsuki spoke again, quieter this time. “that explains a lot.”

“what does that mean?” you looked back at him.

he shrugged. “you walk around this place looking at everything like you got dropped into another world.”

“perhaps i did.”

his gaze lingered on your face longer than necessary. you felt suddenly aware of how close he stood, how large he was compared to you, and how intense his eyes became whenever he looked directly at you.

your fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of your dress, trying to steady yourself before you cleared your throat softly. “what are scarlet region weddings like?”

“why?” katsuki’s brows furrowed immediately.

“because i’m marrying you in a week.” you said with an obvious tone of sarcasm.

“unfortunate for you.”

you ignored that as you asked again. “i would like to know what to expect.”

he sighed dramatically before leaning against one of the stone pillars nearby. “there’s a ceremony.”

you waited for more, but he stared back blankly.

“…that tells me nothing.”

“there’s fire. vows. drinking. fighting.”

your eyes widened. “fighting?”

“friendly fighting.”

“those are two words that should not belong together.”

“depends who you ask.” he shrugged.

you could not help the quiet laugh that escaped you.

katsuki’s eyes flickered toward your mouth immediately at the sound. you noticed it again and suddenly forgot how to breathe correctly for a second.

“what about emerald empire weddings?” he asked abruptly.

you blinked at the sudden question. “ours are more formal.”

“sounds boring already.” katsuki rolled his eyes as if he regrets asking.

“there is music and dancing.”

“boring.”

“poetry readings.”

he looked at you, horrified.

you smiled despite yourself. “decorated gardens.”

“if anybody forced me into a garden for my own wedding i’d burn it down.” he said, his expression tight as if he was already picturing it in his head.

you laughed at the look on his face while katsuki stared at you like he had never heard that sound before, like he wanted to keep hearing it. the realization made warmth spread slowly across your chest.

maybe he truly was avoiding me because he did not know what to do with me.

and somehow that thought felt far more dangerous than hatred ever could have been.

a week passed after your walk through the castle with katsuki, and somewhere within those seven days, something between the two of you shifted. it was not a dramatic shift. there had been no grand confession or sudden tenderness that transformed him into a different man overnight.

katsuki bakugo remained exactly who he was. he was still rough around the edges, still aggressive in the way he spoke, still impatient whenever somebody irritated him which happened often enough that you were beginning to think irritation was simply his natural state of being.

but despite that, things changed.

he was still busy constantly buried beneath matters of court and military discussions and whatever else dragged the dragon king away for hours at a time, but now he made space for you within those busy days.

sometimes he would appear at your chambers without warning only to stay for a few moments.

you would be seated near the fire reading one of the strange books from the scarlet region shelves when the door would suddenly swing open, revealing katsuki standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.

“what are you reading?”

you had looked up in surprise the first time it happened. “a history book.”

he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “why?”

“because i enjoy learning.”

“sounds miserable.”

yet he still walked over and glanced down at the pages resting in your lap before grunting.

another time, he had appeared during your evening meal and simply sat down across from you without invitation. you remembered staring at him while servants awkwardly scrambled to bring another plate.

“your majesty?”

“what?”

“you are in my chambers.”

“obviously.”

then he started eating your food as though he had always belonged there.

sometimes he barely spoke during those visits. he would simply sit nearby while you read or embroidered or drank tea. strangely enough, the silence never felt uncomfortable.

other times, he joined you and eijiro during your walks through the castle grounds.

those were perhaps your favorite moments.

eijiro would be speaking enthusiastically about some story from his childhood only for katsuki to suddenly appear beside the two of you with an irritated scowl already on his face.

“why the hell are you telling her that story again?” katsuki would ask.

“because she likes hearing it,” eijiro would laugh.

“your stories are stupid.”

“you listened to all of them too.”

“shut up.”

yet he would stay, always.

and slowly, without realizing it, you started learning him in pieces.

you learned that he hated overly sweet wine but liked stronger drinks that burned your throat. you learned that he became quieter whenever he was exhausted instead of louder. you learned that although he complained constantly, he still noticed everything around him with sharp frightening precision. you learned that whenever he was thinking deeply, his fingers tapped against whatever surface was nearest. you learned that he looked at you intensely even during moments when he thought you were not paying attention.

and before you fully realized it, the day of your wedding arrived.

you stood outside the massive doors leading toward the throne hall with your heart pounding heavily inside your chest. the halls around you glowed with torchlight while distant music echoed through the stone corridors.

your wedding dress felt heavier than anything you had ever worn before.

scarlet region wedding attire differed greatly from the soft flowing gowns worn in the emerald empire. instead of delicate fabrics and flowers, your gown was designed like something worthy of a queen standing beside a warrior king.

the dress clung tightly around your torso with dark crimson fabric embroidered with thin golden threads shaped like dragon scales. the sleeves draped long around your arms while black sheer fabric layered beneath the heavier crimson silk. gold chains decorated your waist and hips, hanging against the fabric with tiny ruby stones attached to them that caught the firelight whenever you moved.

the neckline dipped lower than dresses from your homeland normally allowed, exposing the tops of your collarbones where matching gold jewelry rested against your skin. even your veil was different. instead of white lace, dark red fabric trailed behind you like smoke.

you barely recognized yourself.

then, the massive doors slowly opened and heat rushed into the hall immediately.

inside, the throne room had transformed completely. huge fires burned from enormous iron braziers positioned throughout the chamber while crimson banners hung from the towering walls. drums echoed loudly through the room in a deep steady rhythm that vibrated through your chest. warriors stood lining the aisle holding torches while musicians played harsh beautiful melodies from instruments unfamiliar to you.

this was nothing like emerald empire weddings filled with soft music and flower petals.

before you knew it, you were walking down the aisle and all eyes turned toward you immediately. the eyes of court katsuki’s councilmen, foreign guests from distant lands, warriors dressed in heavy armor, and nobles covered in jewels and furs.

you spotted katsuki’s parents seated near the front. the former king looked relaxed despite the importance of the ceremony while his wife sat beside him watching everything sharply. you had met them during your first week in the scarlet region and quickly realized katsuki had inherited more from his mother than his father. mitsuki bakugo possessed the same fierce presence as her son though hers carried far more control.

your gaze shifted toward the opposite side where your own family sat. your mother already looked emotional, clearly trying not to cry. your father sat tall with pride written across his face. your older brother, however, looked like he was considering starting a war simply to drag you back home.

you almost smiled. when your eyes met his, you gave him a reassuring look.

i’m alright.

slowly, your attention moved again, then you spotted eijiro.

the dragon hybrid stood near the front dressed in dark ceremonial armor lined with crimson detailing. the moment he saw you looking toward him, his entire face lit up with the biggest grin.

it was so warm and genuine that you nearly laughed. you quickly hid the smile threatening your lips before finally looking ahead.

and there he was.

katsuki.

your future husband stood waiting near the throne platform.

for once, his chest was not bare. instead, he wore ceremonial battle robes made from black and deep crimson fabric layered with pieces of dark armor over his shoulders and forearms. fur lined the heavy cape hanging behind him while gold clasps shaped like dragon claws held it together across his chest. thick leather belts wrapped around his waist where a dagger rested beside an ornate sword.

he looked terrifying, beautifully terrifying.

his vermillion eyes locked onto yours instantly and as you approached him, you noticed his gaze slowly travel over your body, from your face, to your dress, to the jewelry against your skin, then back to your eyes again.

the look in his expression made heat crawl into your cheeks.

the ceremony began shortly after.

instead of gentle vows spoken softly between lovers, scarlet region traditions felt almost ritualistic.

the officiant stood before a massive fire while chanting ancient words in the old tongue of the region. wine was poured into ceremonial goblets. your hands and katsuki’s were bound together briefly with crimson cloth symbolizing unity through blood and kingdom.

through most of it, you barely listened because katsuki kept staring at you, and somehow, you realized you were staring back just as much.

the rest of the room blurred around you. time itself felt strange and distant. until finally the officiant spoke again.

“seal this union beneath fire and blood.”

eyes widened slightly and before you could even fully process the words, katsuki suddenly grabbed the back of your neck. a sharp breath escaped you then he pulled you toward him.

his lips crashed against yours.

the kiss stole every coherent thought from your mind instantly.

he kissed you firmly without hesitation, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other settled against your waist. heat flooded through your entire body as his mouth moved against yours with rough confidence that left your knees weak beneath the heavy layers of your gown.

oh gods.

your fingers instinctively grabbed the front of his ceremonial robes. you could hear distant cheering erupting around the throne room, but it sounded muffled beneath the pounding of your heartbeat.

when he finally pulled away, your lips tingled painfully, you stared at him completely stunned. katsuki’s eyes looked darker somehow, his thumb brushed briefly against your waist before he stepped back.

the celebration afterward became a blur of noise and firelight and endless drinking.

true to scarlet region tradition, there were fights just like katsuki mentioned.

warriors and duelists stepped into the center arena one after another while crowds roared around them.

sero hanta from katsuki’s inner circle defeated one soldier after a brutal sword fight that ended with both men bleeding and laughing. denki kaminari won his own match shortly afterward while shouting obnoxiously toward cheering spectators.

eijiro fought next.

you found yourself watching in amazement as the dragon hybrid moved with terrifying strength and speed before ultimately defeating his opponent.

then came katsuki.

the entire room seemed to erupt when the king stepped forward. his opponent looked almost honored to stand across from him.

the fight started with swords.

metal clashed violently beneath roaring cheers while sparks flew from each impact. katsuki fought like something feral unleashed into battle. he was aggressive, brutal, and overwhelming.

eventually the swords were discarded. then they were on the ground beating each other bloody.

you sat perfectly composed at the royal table, but beneath it, your hands gripped tightly against your dress. stress twisted painfully in your chest.

suddenly, warmth covered one of your hands.

you looked beside yourself and found eijiro smiled reassuringly at you. “don’t worry,” he said gently. “katsuki’ll be fine. i’ve seen him survive worse.”

you swallowed slightly. “that is not comforting.”

he laughed softly. “when we were sixteen he fought three mountain raiders at once after getting stabbed in the shoulder.”

“what?” your eyes widened in horror.

“he won.”

“that really does not make it better.”

eijiro grinned at your expression of worry.

your eyes shifted back toward the fight where katsuki slammed the other man hard into the ground making you winced. “besides… it’s not him i’m worried about,” you admitted quietly.

eijiro blinked before immediately understanding, then he chuckled. “ah.”

you looked at him helplessly. “that poor soldier.”

“trust me, he’s honored.”

you stared at him incredulously, not entirely sure what to reply to his reassurance.

eijiro leaned closer slightly before explaining. “in the scarlet region, it’s tradition to fight for the person you love.”

your brows furrowed.

he nodded toward the arena. “me and the others fought earlier because we’re unwedded. it’s meant to show strength, protection, and devotion for our future partners.” then he looked toward katsuki. “but katsuki’s fight is different.”

“different how?” your stomach tightened.

eijiro’s smile softened. “the longer the fight goes and the more blood he draws from his opponent, the deeper the devotion is believed to be.”

you froze completely.

eijiro continued quietly. “he’s fighting for you, my queen.”

shock rushed through you instantly. you had never heard of this tradition before, never read about it, never learned it during your lessons back home. yet suddenly everything felt different watching katsuki fight down there beneath roaring firelight.

every brutal strike, every drop of blood, every second that continued was for you.

eventually the soldier finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss.

the room erupted into cheers.

breathing heavily, katsuki straightened before immediately turning his head toward you, his eyes locked onto yours across the hall then slowly, a smirk twitched against the corner of his mouth. he walked directly toward you afterward. you noticed the blood that stained his knuckles, his lip was split slightly, yet he looked almost pleased with himself.

once he reached the table, he dropped into the seat beside you and threw one arm casually across the back of your chair. “you look pale,” he said.

you stared at him. “you nearly killed that man.”

“he’ll live.”

“why does everything think that’s comforting?” you replied back.

he snorted then his eyes dragged slowly across your face. “you watched the whole thing?”

you swallowed softly. “…yes.”

“good.” his smirk deepened slightly.

the grand hall roared with celebration, the air thick with smoke from roasted meats, the bitter tang of ale, and the deafening clash of warriors re-enacting battles for entertainment.

you sat at the high table, your new husband beside you, a solid, immovable presence. katsuki downed the last bit of his wine, a deep, dark scarlet that matched the banners of his kingdom. he swallowed it like it was water, not savoring it, just consuming it. the heavy goblet clunked onto the wooden table.

then his arm, which had been draped loosely around the back of your chair, moved. his hand landed on your shoulder, a firm, heavy pat. once. twice. a third time, each impact a little heavier, a little more deliberate.

your shoulder tingled under the weight.

he stood up. the noise in the hall seemed to dip for a moment, the crowd’s attention shifting to their king. he held his hand out for you, palm open, fingers curled slightly while you looked at his hand, confused.

the festivities were still raging. it was relatively still early. then you turned your head to meet his eyes. dark red, like cooled lava, intense and utterly focused on you. in that instant, the confusion evaporated, replaced by a cold, clear understanding that rushed from your head down to your toes.

it was time. your duty. the consummation.

your fingers, trembling slightly, reached out and grabbed his hand. his grip was instantaneous, tight, almost crushing as he pulled you to stand. you rose, your wedding gown suddenly felt like a ridiculous, fragile costume.

as you stood, you noticed katsuki’s eyes flick to eijiro who sat on your other side, giving him a quick knowing look.

eijiro’s smile faded into a serious nod, his own crimson eyes understanding. they seemed to speak without words, a silent communication that made your eyebrows furrow.

what did that mean? what had they planned?

but before you could dwell, katsuki was pulling you away from the table, his stride long and purposeful. he didn’t walk with you; he dragged you.

your hand was captive in his, and he led you through the archway out of the hall, into the colder, darker corridors of the castle. the warmth and noise of the feast died behind you, swallowed by the silence of the passageways.

katsuki looked intense, his profile sharp in the torchlight. his jaw was set, his brows slightly lowered. he didn’t look at you as he walked, his focus was on the path ahead, on getting to where he needed to be.

silence filled the space between you, thick and heavy. it wasn’t peaceful. it was a tension that crawled over your skin, a prickling awareness of where you were headed, of what was about to happen in the dark, private heart of his domain.

he didn’t lead you to the wing where your chambers had been for the past few weeks. he turned down a different corridor, one guarded by two massive stone dragons carved into the archway. he stopped before a door of dark, aged oak reinforced with iron bands.

“this is my chambers,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet hall. “now it’s ours. i had the servants move your things here this afternoon.” his tone was matter-of-fact, final. there was no discussion. this was where you would live… with him.

katsuki opened the door. it swung inward without a sound.

you were met with a room similar in structure to your old one but vastly different in spirit. it was bigger, dominated by a massive bed with a dark wood frame and black linens. the air smelled like him—like smoke, leather, and something wild. weapons lay around not as decoration, but as tools temporarily set aside: a sword on a table, its edge gleaming; a pair of axes leaning against a chest; pieces of armor on a stand. scrolls and maps were piled haphazardly.

it was chaotic, masculine, and utterly his.

“it’s very… you,” you said softly, stepping inside after him.

“it’s a fucking room,” he grunted, closing the door behind you. the click of the latch was loud in the silence. “it serves its purpose.”

you turned to face him, now alone in the intimate space. the tension from the corridors condensed here, in the few feet of space between you. he finally looked at you directly, his sharp eyes sweeping over your body in the elaborate dress.

“you wore this shit all day,” he stated, not a question. “must be heavy.”

“they told me it is the traditional gown of the scarlet region for a royal wedding,” you replied, your voice gentle. “they told me it represents power and prosperity.”

“it represents a lot of fucking fabric,” he said, a slight, sharp smirk touching his lips. “you look… good in it. but i’ll prefer you without it.”

your cheeks warmed at his blunt words. you didn’t know how to respond to such directness.

he stepped closer, until you were face to face. his warmth radiated against you. one of his calloused hands came up to gently play with a strand of your hair that had escaped its intricate styling.

the contrast was startling, the brute king touching you with such deliberate softness.

“do you know what’s about to happen now, hm?” he asked, his voice lower, gravelly.

you swallowed, your eyes wide. “i-i know my duty to my husband,” you whispered. “to… consummate the marriage. to bond both our kingdoms.”

his fingers continued their slow movement through your hair. “duty. bond.” he snorted softly. “i may be a brute, princess. i may be have a temper and called a barbarian. but i won’t do anything to you if you’re not ready.” the words were gruff, but the meaning underneath was startlingly clear.

he was giving you a choice, within the cage of this marriage.

your body reacted to his soft touches. a shiver went down your spine that wasn’t entirely fear. your eyes closed for a moment, feeling the rough texture of his fingers against the sensitive skin of your neck, behind your ear.

it was soothing and terrifying all at once.

you opened your eyes to find him watching your face intently, studying every flicker of reaction.

“i… i want to,” you promised him, your voice timid but clear. “i am ready.”

a low sound, like a grumble of satisfaction, emanated from his chest. his eyes darkened, shifting from assessing to predatory. his fingers left your hair and traced down your shoulder to the back of your gown, finding the complex laces of the corset.

“you love learning, right? reading those historical books,” he said, his voice now a seductive murmur as his fingers began to work the first lace. “so learn this. in the scarlet region, we don’t consummate marriages like they do in other kingdoms. it’s not clinical. it’s not prude.”

another lace loosened.

your breath hitched as the structure of the dress began to give way.

“they call us brutes. barbarians.” another lace. “and they’re right.” the final lace came free with a soft pull. “we fuck like animals. and tonight, i will make sure every single morsel and peasant in this kingdom knows what we’re doing. i won’t hold back.”

you shivered as his words washed over you, crude and thrilling.

the last of the fabric, freed from its bindings, pooled around your legs and slid to the floor with a whisper of silk. you stood before him, bare except for the delicate necklaces on your neck.

his eyes raked over your body, no longer obscured. his gaze was hot, possessive, and utterly focused. his warm, calloused hands followed his eyes, roaming everywhere—your shoulders, the curve of your waist, the outside of your thighs. his touch was firm, mapping you.

your breathing became uneven, shallow as you watched him.

“fuck,” he breathed out, the word almost reverent in its roughness. “look at you.”

then he grabbed you, not gently. his hands hauled you into his arms, your bare body pressing against the warm fabric of his attire. you felt the hard planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms. for a second, you were enveloped in his scent and strength before he threw you onto the bed. you landed on the black linens with a soft gasp, the cool fabric against your skin.

he hovered over you, still fully clothed, a giant silhouetted against the torchlight.

his eyes grew darker, hungrier. he didn’t bother with ceremony. his own clothes were removed with swift, efficient movements, the ornate jacket torn off, the shirt pulled over his head and discarded carelessly on the ground, the trousers shoved down and kicked away until he was bare like you.

you shyly eyed his body from where you lay on the bed. he was… gorgeous. carved from muscle, scars mapping old battles across his skin.

“see something you like, huh?” he growled, noticing your wide-eyed look.

“you’re… very b-big,” you whispered, your politeness clinging to you even in this raw moment.

“ha! damn right i am,” he said as he moved onto the bed, kneeling between your legs. his hands pushed your thighs apart, making you shyly whine at the sudden exposure.

your palms came up to push against his chest lightly, a reflexive gesture of modesty. “i… i haven’t done anything like this before,” you confessed softly, your eyes pleading for understanding.

katsuki’s eyes softened for a fleeting moment. he leaned down, not entering you, but lifting himself up to kiss you.

it wasn’t a gentle kiss.

his lips crashed onto yours, hot and demanding. his tongue invaded your mouth, a battle you couldn’t hope to win but were compelled to join. there were bites; sharp nips on your lower lip that made you gasp, and shared spit, and breaths that grew ragged. you whined into his mouth, small sounds of overwhelm that only spurred him on. he groaned, a deep sound from his chest, and the wrestling of tongues was wet, messy, and utterly intoxicating.

“gonna taste every part of you, wife,” he muttered against your lips before breaking away.

he moved down your body, his hands holding your hips firmly. his mouth found your core, and he didn’t hesitate. he ate you out with the same aggressive dedication he did everything else. his tongue was relentless, exploring, licking, pushing inside you while grunted against your skin.

“so fucking sweet… like a prize… all mine…”

“s-shit—oh! katsuki… so g-good…” you moaned, a high, shaky sound.

katsuki groaned in between your thighs, his mouth moving messily on your mound, swishing vibrations through you that amplified the pleasure he was already giving you.

your body writhed on the bed from the shocking, unprecedented sensations crashing through you. your hands gripped the black sheets. you were confused by what you were feeling; this building, tightening coil of pleasure deep inside you, something you had no name for.

“i… f-feel—nghh…” you gasped.

“let go,” katsuki commanded, his voice thick. “just let go for me.”

and you did.

the coil snapped, and a wave of intense pleasure broke over you, making you arch off the bed with a sharp cry. he kept working you through it until you collapsed back onto the linens, trembling.

he moved back up, his body aligning with yours. his cock, heavy and hard, pressed against your slit.

“i can’t fucking wait any longer. i need to be inside you… been wanting you since i laid eyes on you,” he said, his voice dark with promise. “i’m gonna enter you now and you’re gonna take all of me like a good wife, hm?”

you were delirious in pleasure. just from that one orgasm, you felt indescribable pleasure from your husband. slowly but surely, you wanted everything and anything he was willing to give you. “p-please.” you begged.

katsuki glided his cock into you slowly, an inch at a time. you moaned at the intrusion, a mix of pleasure from before and the new, stretching feeling. he grunted, his own control evident in the slow pace.

“so f-fuuucking tight… wrapping around me like a damn vice…” he breathed.

you held onto him, your arms around his shoulders as he slowly inched deeper until he was fully seated inside you. it was a fullness that stole your breath, gasping as you clutched onto him. “ha—”

“painful?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“a little… but… it’s fading,” you whined softly. “p-please… move.”

“how can i deny such an honest plea?” katsuki teased, chuckling at your expression before he began to move.

his thrusts started slow but quickly gained speed and force. he fucked you on your back with a driving rhythm that shook the bed frame. each thrust punched a moan or a whine from your lips.

“oh! ah—ngh… s’good.” you threw your head back.

“such a good little wife… taking her king so perfectly…” he growled, his praise landing on you like a brand, making you cling to him tighter.

he paused for a moment, looking down at where your bodies joined. “fuck… you’re so small… made for me…” his thrusts became deeper, more harder. “gonna fill you up… gonna put my heirs right in here.” his desire was raw in his words, each slam of his hips a promise of possession beyond tonight.

“katsuki… please!” you begged, your nails clawing down his back.

“please what? need more, huh? you gonna cum again fro me?” katsuki groaned as he continued to plow into you.

“i… i don’t know—f-fuck!” you bit down on his shoulder as you ground up at him, meeting his thrusts.

“you do know, baby. feel it. come undone for me again.” katsuki nipped at your ear.

and you did, another peak crashing over you as he drove into you relentlessly, his own release following with a roar that echoed in the dark chamber, filling you with his cum as he collapsed atop you, breathing heavily into your neck.

but he didn’t stop.

the moment your second orgasm faded into tremors, katsuki kept driving into you, his hips setting a brutal, possessive rhythm that stole the air from your lungs. each thrust was a deep, claiming slam that made the bedposts creak in protest.

“k-katsuki…” you moaned, the name a broken sound on your lips. your hands scrambled against his sweat-slicked back, fingers digging into the hard muscle.

“that’s it, we’re not done yet. just like that, baby—oh, fuck,” he grunted, his voice rough with strain and pleasure. “moan for me. let the whole fucking castle know who you belong to.” his own moans were guttural that vibrated through his chest into yours. “so fucking good. taking me like you were made for it…”

katsuki’s hands, which had been braced on either side of your head, slid down to grasp your thighs. his calloused palms caressed the soft skin of your legs as he held them open, his grip firm, almost bruising in its intensity. he used that leverage to pound into you harder, deeper.

you arched off the bed, a sharp whine tearing from your throat as he hit a spot inside you that sparked white behind your eyelids. “right there… oh, gods, right there!” you sobbed.

“i know. found your sweet spot, huh? that feel good?” he growled, a smirk in his tone. “i feel you clenching around me, princess. greedy little thing.”

the sound of your bodies meeting was obscenely wet, a rhythmic slap of skin on skin that underscored every groan and whimper.

then, with a sudden, powerful shift, he manhandled you. his hands left your thighs to grip your waist, and in one fluid, dominant motion, he flipped the two of you around. you gasped as the world spun, finding yourself straddling him, his cock still buried impossibly deep inside you. the new position made you feel him even more profoundly, every inch of him stretching you.

“ah! fuck!” you moaned, eyes wide, hands flying to his chest to steady yourself.

“look at you,” he rasped, his vermillion eyes blazing up at you. “riding your king as if you’re riding a dragon yourself. so fucking perfect for me.” his hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking the bone. “c’mon. show me what my good little wife can do.”

you were obedient, eager to please. tentatively, you lifted yourself up, a slow, trembling movement that made you both moan as he slid partially out. then you lowered yourself back down, sheathing him fully, a grunt punched from his lips.

“fuck yes. that’s it… just like that,” he praised, his eyes watching your face with a dark, satisfied smirk. your expression was one of overwhelmed bliss, mouth slightly open, eyes glazed. he cooed at you, the sound strangely tender coming from him. “such a pretty queen. taking her king so well. now… set the pace f’me.”

your confidence grew with his constant praise. you started to bounce on him, slowly at first, then faster, finding a rhythm. each descent made your breath hitch, each rise brought a needy whine. your arched your back, your hair spilling over your shoulders.

“katsuki… it’s so… i feel so full…” you whimpered.

“you are full,” he agreed, his voice thick. “full of me. and you look so fucking small wrapped around me… perfect fit.” his lust for you bled into the words, the awe in his gaze as he looked at where your bodies joined.

but the heat from the friction on your inner thighs began to burn, making you slow your movements with a pout and a soft whine of discomfort.

katsuki chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “tired already? my delicate little flower.” he cooed at you, his thumbs still caressing your hips. “it’s okay. let me help, hm?”

instead of bouncing, you began to grind on him out of desperation. circular motion drew a deep groan from him. then you leaned forward, collapsing against his chest, tucking your face into the hot skin of his neck. you were surrounded by his scent, his heat, and it was intoxicating.

“please… please, katsuki,” you begged, your voice muffled against him. “i need—fuck… i don’t know what i need anymore… need more.”

“shhh,” he cooed, one hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. the other stayed on your hip, possessive. “i know what you need.”

katsuki planted his feet firmly on the bed, gaining leverage. and then, with a single, powerful beat of his hips, he started ramming up into you. he was fucking up into you from below, each upward thrust spearing you deeply, knocking the air from your lungs.

“ah—ngh… yes! right there!” you shrieked, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. your moans and whines became a continuous stream against his neck.

“just let me do all the work,” he grunted, his own breathing becoming ragged. “a king serves his queen… especially in bed.” his thrusts were relentless, powerful pistons driving you up and down on his cock even as you lay pliant against him. you were putty in his hands, letting him use your body exactly as he wanted, your face hidden in the safety of his neck.

the sounds filled the room; his guttural grunts, your high-pitched whimpers, the wet slap of his hips meeting yours, the creak of the bed, the filth coming out of your husband’s mouth. it was sinful.

“gonna breed you so deep—fuck—fill this perfect cunt with my heirs… mark you inside and out…”

your only replies were broken syllables, your desire for his praise making you sing with every rough compliment.

katsuki’s thrusts started becoming erratic, sloppy, losing their military precision as his own peak approached.

“i’m close… fuck, I’m so close,” you whined, your body tightening around him.

“i am too,” he gasped, his voice strained. he pulled back just enough to look at your face.

your expression was one of utterly ruined bliss. your eyebrows were drawn together, lips swollen and parted, eyes half-lidded and hazy. you looked so pretty to him, so perfectly claimed.

katsuki leaned up and placed a sudden, soft kiss on your forehead, a shocking gesture of tenderness amidst the carnal frenzy.

you clutched at his biceps, your nails biting into his skin. “k-katsuki… i’m gonna…”

he grunted, and with effort, he stopped thrusting.

before you could even whine in complaint at the denied release, his arms were scooping you up. katsuki stood from the bed in one powerful motion, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you clung to him, his cock still buried to the hilt inside you.

“wh-what…?” you gasped, startled.

“tch. patience,” he growled, his own need evident in the tension of his body.

he gripped your thighs firmly, his hands huge and warm. and then he began to move you himself, bouncing you on his cock as he stood there, using the strength of his arms and the leverage of his stance to fuck you onto him.

the thought of it… of him manhandling you so easily, picking you up and using your body like this, made you physically shiver. that shiver traveled inward, making your inner walls clench tightly around him, which drew a ragged groan from his throat.

“fuck… you just got tighter,” he breathed, his pace increasing. “you like that? like when i just take what’s mine and use you?”

“yes… yes, i do like it. please… i’m close again, katsuki, please—ha…” you begged, your head falling back.

katsuki hummed, coaxing you over the edge. “give me another one, my good girl. cum again for your king and i’ll give you a reward.”

that promise, coupled with the overwhelming sensation of being fucked in mid-air by your powerful husband, was too much. a coil tightened deep in your belly, winding to its breaking point.

“shit! i’m—fuck, i’m…!”

“that’s it. let go,” he commanded.

“k-katsuki…” you whine, the sound muffled, as another wave of sensitivity makes you clench around him, where he’s still buried deep inside you.

a low, guttural groan vibrates through his chest and into yours. “fuck,” he rasps, his voice wrecked. one large, calloused hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your disheveled hair.

“gonna make you cum again. come on, baby. come undone for me again. you want to, don’t you?”

you nod frantically, a desperate little mewl escaping you as you moved desperately up and down on him.

“say it.”

“yes—cum… gonna cum f’you. only you.”

he smirks, that feral, triumphant curl of his lips while his free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in, helping you find a rolling rhythm even as he holds you locked to him. the sound of your slick skin meeting his, the wet slap of each movement, fills the heavy air of the chamber, mingling with his grunts and your broken cries.

“so good for me.” thrust. “so fuckin’ tight.” thrust. “all mine.” thrust. “gonna keep you full of me.” thrust. “always.” thrust. “breed you so deep you’ll feel it for days.” thrust.

when the next orgasm rips through you, it’s slower, deeper, a molten unspooling that has you sobbing into his mouth, your body seizing around him in rhythmic pulses. he follows you over with a sharp, choked-off roar, his hips jerking up to bury himself to the hilt as he spills hot inside you, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully.

before you can even form a coherent thought, he’s capturing your mouth again. this kiss is messy, sloppy, all hungry tongue and possessive pressure. it’s wet and it steals the air from your lungs. you can taste yourself on him, salty and sweet.

he pulls his head back just a few inches, his eyes blazing down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. his lips are swollen, his breathing harsh. “look at you,” he growls, the words rough with awe. “my perfect little wife. took me so damn well. fuckin’ gorgeous f’me.”

katsuki nuzzles into your hair, his lips brushing your temple. his voice is a low, satiated rumble. “since you’ve been so good… so obedient… you get your prize.”

prize? oh yeah, he said something about a prize. your hazy mind struggles to comprehend.

you feel him shift beneath you, still intimately connected, as he lifts his gaze from the top of your head to the chamber door.

“ei. get in here.”

your entire body goes rigid. confusion floods you, cutting through the blissful fog. your eyes fly open, wide and bewildered, staring at the carved wood of the door.

eijiro? as in kirishima? now? why? while we’re… we’re like this…!

“katsuki?” your voice is small, trembling. “what are you talking about?”

the door swings open silently. and there he is.

eijiro kirishima fills the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly touching the frame, his chest bare, the hard planes of his abdomen and the dark trail of hair leading downward on full display. his crimson eyes, usually so warm and friendly, are dark, intense, and they lock onto the two of you immediately… onto you, specifically.

was he outside this entire time?

you feel the burn of his gaze like a physical touch, sweeping over katsuki’s hands on your bare skin, over the curve of your spine, over the intimate join of your bodies.

a hot, shameful flush explodes across your face and chest. you try to shrink further into katsuki, but he’s already moving, walking with you still impaled on him, one arm hooked under your thighs. he walks you both towards eijiro, and the casual display of his strength makes your head spin.

“i’m not stupid,” katsuki says, nonchalant as if he wasn’t still buried inside you. he stops a few feet from eijiro. “saw the way he looked at you for weeks. like you were water in a desert. and you…” he glances down at you, his smirk deepening. “you greedy little thing got attached to your friendly dragon babysitter, didn’t you? spoiled princess.”

your heart hammers against your ribs. “i didn’t—i didn’t mean to make you feel—”

katsuki cuts you off with a low chuckle, his free hand stroking a soothing line down your sweat-damp back. “shh-shh. you didn’t do a damn thing wrong, princess. you just… showed me something.” his eyes slide back to eijiro, hungry and possessive. “showed me what turns my blood to fuckin’ fire. the depravity of it. the idea of him,” he thrusts up shallowly, making you gasp, “wanting what’s mine. touching what’s mine.”

he shifts his gaze fully to eijiro. “i’m right, aren’t i?”

eijiro’s eyes haven’t left you. a slow, deep hum resonates in his chest, a sound more beast than man. “i am bound to you, my king,” he says, his voice thicker, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “my life is yours. my loyalty.” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “and what is yours… is yours to command.”

katsuki’s grin is all sharp edges and dark promise. he looks down at you again, his expression turning curious. “so? is it okay with you, my greedy baby? if i share you? if he gets to have a taste of what belongs to me?”

the question is so blunt, so shockingly crude, that your mind blanks. but your body betrays you instantly. a violent, involuntary clench around katsuki’s still hard length, a fresh trickle of wetness that has nothing to do with fear.

katsuki grunts, his head throwing back with a sharp hiss. “fuck! see that, shitty hair?” he says, talking about you as if you weren’t clinging to him. “got even tighter just hearing it. her pretty little cunt’s begging for it.”

“seems eager to please,” eijiro murmurs, taking a step closer. the heat radiating from his body rivals katsuki’s.

“she’s a good girl,” katsuki agrees, his voice dropping to a coaxing rumble directly in your ear. “aren’t you? can you be good for me, hm? for us?”

the choice is no choice at all. not with katsuki’s seed still leaking from you, not with eijiro’s hungry eyes devouring you.

“yes, please. i’ll do anything for you.” you nod, eagerly, desperately, a whine caught in your throat.

“good,” katsuki purrs. he gives a single nod to eijiro.

in one smooth motion, katsuki pulls himself from your sensitive flesh, a gasp ripped from your lips at the sudden emptiness and the cool air on your wet skin. then his hands are on your waist, and he’s transferring your weight.

eijiro’s arms come up to catch you, and he is just as hot, just as solid as katsuki. you’re cradled against a chest that feels like carved stone, your bare skin flush against his, and you bury your flaming face in his neck, breathing in his scent of smoke, spice, and something wild.

katsuki strides over to a large ornate chair near the bed and sinks into it, sprawling with kingly indolence. he’s still gloriously naked, his cock hard on his belly. “alright,” he says, his voice a command. “i wanna watch. kirishima… eat her out. clean up my mess. then get her ready for you.”

eijiro lets out another one of those low, rumbling hums. “as my king commands.” he carries you to the bed as if you weigh nothing and lays you down gently on the rumpled silk. your eyes are glued to him as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and pushes them down.

your breath hitches at the sight.

he’s… huge. thick and long, already fully erect, the tip flushed and leaking. the sight sends a jolt of pure, dizzying arousal straight to your already throbbing core.

“like what you see, princess?” katsuki asks from his chair, a dark amusement in his tone. he’s lazily stroking himself, his eyes glued to the scene.

“she’s blushing all over,” eijiro notes, his voice softening as he kneels on the bed between your spread legs. his gaze is a physical weight, traveling over every inch of your exposed body; your peaked nipples, the flutter of your stomach, the glistening, well-used flesh between your thighs, dripping with katsuki’s release. he leans over you, caging you with his arms, his face inches from yours. his eyes search yours. “can i kiss you, sweetheart?”

you nod, wordless.

eijiro no longer waits. his mouth immediately captures yours.

it’s nothing like katsuki’s kiss. where katsuki is fire and possessive, eijiro is deep, lingering warmth. it’s sweet, almost reverent at first. a soft press of lips that quickly deepens into something more devouring. his tongue sweeps into your mouth, tasting you slowly, thoroughly. it’s no less possessive, but it’s a different kind of claim.

“good girl,” katsuki grunts from the side. “let him taste you.”

eijiro breaks the kiss with a soft sound, trailing his lips along your jaw, down the column of your neck. “so sweet,” he murmurs against your skin, his hot breath making you shiver. “so perfect.” he moves lower, taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling gently before swirling it with his tongue. he pays equal attention to the other, his hands skimming down your sides as he kisses a path over your trembling stomach.

he doesn’t stop until his face is level with your aching core. the scent of sex and katsuki is thick in the air. eijiro’s eyes lock with yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that pins you to the bed.

“lick her clean, ei,” katsuki orders, his hand moving faster on his own length.

eijiro doesn’t look away from you. “with pleasure,” he rumbles.

his tongue was broad, hot, and surprisingly soft. it drags through your soaked folds in one long, deliberate stripe. he gathers katsuki’s cum and your own on his tongue, his eyes fluttering closed for a second as he savors it. a low groan vibrates from his throat into your flesh.

“fuck yes,” katsuki breathes. “doesn’t she taste so good?”

eijiro opens his eyes again as he hummed in agreement, watching your face as he does it again. and again. each slow, languid lap makes your back arch off the bed, a broken moan tumbling from your lips.

he’s cleaning you with a thoroughness that is obscene, worshipful, and unbearably erotic.

then he zeroes in on your clit.

his mouth closes over the swollen bud and he eats you like a man starved. his tongue flicks and circles, then presses hard and flat against you before spearing deep inside your entrance, fucking you with it, tasting both of you mixed together.

“oh gods—eijiro!” you cry out, one hand fisting in the sheets above your head, the other tangling in his red hair.

the sounds he was making were filthy. wet, sucking noises, his low growls of appreciation, your escalating whines and sobs.

“so good,” eijiro mumbles against your flesh, his words muffled. “taste like heaven. so fucking perfect.” he shifts, his hands sliding under your thighs to hike them over his shoulders, spreading you wider, opening you up for his devouring mouth.

“that’s it,” katsuki praises from his throne, his grunts joining the symphony. “make her cum on your tongue. show me how good my wife tastes.”

you tear your eyes from the ecstasy on eijiro’s face to look at your husband. katsuki is stroking himself in earnest now, his gaze locked on where eijiro’s head is buried between your legs. he looks utterly captivated, a smirk of pure male satisfaction on his lips.

“k-katsuki! eiji—ugh’ngh,” you wail, feeling the coil within you wind impossibly tight.

“cum for him,” katsuki commands, his voice rough. “give him your reward for being so patient.”

eijiro redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while thrusting two thick fingers inside you, curling them to stroke that perfect spot.

the dual assault shatters you. you scream, your body bowing off the bed as a brutal orgasm tears through you, your vision whiting out at the edges as you clamp down around his fingers.

eijiro rides it out with you, drinking every drop, until you collapse back onto the sheets, boneless and trembling. and when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening.

“that’s it, baby,” katsuki’s voice is a low, approving rumble as you tremble through the last waves of your climax under eijiro’s mouth. “so good for us. but we’re not done.” he stood up from his seat before standing in front of you, his fingers, still tangled in your hair, give a gentle but firm tug, guiding your face up to look at him. his eyes are molten, dark with a possessive heat that makes your insides flutter anew. “up. on your hands and knees for me. show me how well my queen can listen.”

your body, still humming with pleasure, obeys before your mind fully catches up.

you push yourself up, limbs shaky, and maneuver onto your hands and knees in the center of the massive bed. the silk is cool against your flushed skin. you feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly wanton.

katsuki moves with a predator’s grace. he moved to sit on the bed, positioning himself right in front of you. he shifts to sit up against the carved headboard, his back supported, his legs spread.

he’s the picture of royalty, a king surveying his spoils. and you are on display before him.

a moment later, the bed dips behind you. eijiro’s large, warm hands settle on your waist, his thumbs stroking the dip of your spine. he leans in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the small of your back, then another higher up, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

a desperate, hungry sound escapes you, a whine that’s almost a sob. you push your hips back instinctively, seeking more of his touch, more of anything.

the refined manners of the emerald kingdom, the years of etiquette lessons, the poised grace of a princess—it’s all gone, incinerated in the scarlet heat of this room, of these men.

you are need and hunger given form.

katsuki watches you, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest as he thought of the same thing. “look at you,” he muses, his voice thick with dark amusement. “where’s my polite little princess now? huh? all those pretty curtsies and soft-spoken words… fucked right out of you.” he leans forward slightly, his gaze searing into you. “good. that girl belonged to them. this?” he gestures at you, trembling and eager on your knees. “this is mine. you’re my wife. my queen. and you’re in the scarlet region now. i could fuck you raw in front of my entire war council and not a single bastard would bat a fucking eye.” the sheer, brutal ownership in his words makes you clench around nothing, a fresh trickle of wetness slicking your inner thighs.

katsuki sees it, his smirk widening. “but i won’t do that. ‘cause this… this filthy, desperate, perfect look on your face… that’s for me. and for him.” he nods toward eijiro behind you. “no one else.”

his attention sharpens, focusing solely on you. his voice drops, softening into a coaxing, dominant croon that’s somehow more overwhelming than his shouts. “c’mere, pretty. closer to me.” you shuffle forward on your knees until you’re between his spread legs, his hard, thick cock standing proudly just inches from your face. the musky, masculine scent of him is overwhelming.

“i know you haven’t done this before,” he says, his tone surprisingly gentle, like he’s instructing you in a sacred rite. “that’s okay. i’m gonna tell you exactly what to do. just be my good girl and follow my words, yeah?”

“i will. m’good girl,” you nod, your eyes wide and fixed on him, on the ruddy tip already beading with pre-cum.

“yes you are,” he praises you. “first… just taste me. use that pretty little tongue.”

leaning forward, you tentatively extend your tongue and lick a slow, careful stripe over the broad head. the taste is salty, uniquely him, and it sends a jolt of pure lust straight to your core.

“fuck,” katsuki hisses, his hips giving a tiny jerk. “just like that. perfect. so fuckin’ obedient for me.” his hand comes to rest on the top of your head, not pushing, just holding. “now… wrap your hand around me. show me how big i am for my queen.”

you reach out, your fingers seeming so small as you wrap them around his girth. you can’t quite close your thumb and forefinger. a soft, awed sound leaves your lips. “… so big.”

katsuki’s chuckle is ragged. “see? you need both hands. go on.”

you bring your other hand up, stacking it over the first, and finally manage to form a loose ring around him. the heat of him is incredible, the skin like velvet over steel. you begin to stroke, up and down, watching in fascination as his expression tightens with pleasure.

“yes… just like that… f-fuck, your hands are so soft,” he groans, his head falling back against the headboard for a moment before he forces it up to watch you. “doing so good. such a fast learner for me.”

meanwhile, eijiro is worshiping your back. his mouth is everywhere, sucking dark marks onto your shoulders, licking a hot path down your spine, biting gently at the swell of your ass. each touch, each possessive mark, makes you whimper and push back into him, your strokes on katsuki becoming less coordinated.

“so eager,” eijiro murmurs against your skin, his voice a gravelly vibration. “so perfect for him. for us.”

emboldened by their praise, by the fire coursing through your veins, you lean in again. this time, you drag your tongue from the very base of katsuki’s shaft all the way to the tip in one long, slow, wet lick.

katsuki’s reaction is instantaneous. a sharp, guttural “hnng!” rips from his throat, and his hand fists in your hair. “shit! where’d that come from, you greedy little thing?” but he’s grinning, all fierce pride.

you don’t answer with words, instead you open your mouth and take the head of his cock inside, sucking gently as you had seen done in erotic book and illustrations.

“oh, fuck yes,” he moans, his fingers tightening on your hair. “just like that… take me deeper now. slow—just like that. good girl…”

you obey, sinking down inch by agonizing inch. he’s so big, stretching your lips wide, filling your mouth until you feel him nudge the back of your throat. your eyes water, but you hold there, breathing harshly through your nose.

“look at that,” katsuki breathes, awe in his tone. he glances over your head, his eyes meeting eijiro’s. “she’s taking me so well… now it’s your turn, ei. fuck her. fill her up while she sucks me off.”

eijiro’s answering growl is pure hunger. you feel the blunt, hot head of his cock nudge against your dripping entrance, still stretched and sensitive from before. “gonna put it in now, sweetheart,” he coos, his voice a rough contrast to his gentle warning. “gonna fill you up just like your husband wants.”

you moan around katsuki’s length, the vibration making him curse and thrust his hips up minutely.

the sensation is overwhelming. the stretch and burn as eijiro slowly pushes inside you from behind, and the heavy fullness in your mouth.

“that’s it… take him,” katsuki groans, his hand guiding your head down a little further, helping you take more of him. “ffuuuck, your mouth… so hot and tight.”

eijiro bottoms out with a deep, satisfied sigh, his hips flush against your ass. “gods… she’s s-so tight,” he rasps.

then he begins to move. slow and deep thrusts that have you seeing stars. each forward drive pushes you further onto katsuki’s cock, making you gag softly. each withdrawal pulls a desperate whine from your throat.

“listen to her,” katsuki pants, his own hips beginning to move in tiny counter-thrusts to eijiro’s rhythm. “listen to those pretty little sounds she makes for us. fuck her harder, shitty hair. make her fucking feel good.”

eijiro obeys, his grip on your hips turning vice-like. his thrusts become harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room accompanied by his guttural grunts and your muffled cries. “so good… taking us both… our perfect queen.”

katsuki’s control is fraying. his thrusts into your mouth become less measured, more urgent. “gonna cum… fuck, you’re gonna make me cum down your pretty little throat,” he snarls, his voice strained. he fists your hair tightly, holding you in place as his pace turns erratic. “you want that? want me to cum in your mouth?”

you’re eyes stayed on his as you hummed in agreement.

“then earn it, baby. cum for eijiro while you suck me like the good girl you are.” katsuki says.

the challenge, the sheer depravity of it, ignites something frantic in you.

determined to feel that shattering pleasure again, to please him, you bob your head faster, taking him as deep as you can manage, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around the sensitive head on each upstroke.

katsuki throws his head back with a ragged roar, his entire body tensing. “yes! just like that! fuck, baby! i’m gonna—!”

the first hot, salty pulse hits the back of your throat. he holds you there firmly as he empties himself with sharp, jerking thrusts, groaning your name mixed with filth and praise. “take it all. swallow it… be a good girl for your husband…”

as you struggle to swallow, tears streaming down your cheeks, katsuki cups your jaw with his other hand, his thumb stroking your cheek. his eyes are blazing, demanding. “look at me,” he commands, his voice raw. “give me your eyes while you swallow my cum.”

you force your watery gaze up to meet his. the connection is electric, intimate and degrading all at once. you see the raw possession, the awe, the unadulterated lust as you gulp him down.

“so fucking good… perfect girl,” he whispers, his thumb wiping a stray tear. he glances at eijiro over your shoulder. “now make my wife cum.”

with a look from katsuki, eijiro changes his angle, driving into you with deep, punishing strokes aimed directly at that spot inside you that makes you see white.

you fall forward, your arms giving out, but katsuki is there. you collapse against his chest, your face buried in his neck as eijiro pounds into you from behind. “ah! hngh—f-fuuuck. m’close. so close.”

“that’s it… let go… cum on my cock,” eijiro grunts, his rhythm becoming brutal, relentless. “gonna fill you up… breed you…”

katsuki holds you to him, one arm wrapped around your back, his other hand stroking your hair. his mouth is at your ear, a constant stream of filth and praise. “feel him? feel how deep he’s fucking my cum deeper into you? you’re gonna be dripping with us for days… our perfect, shared little wife… come on… let me see you fall apart.”

“katsuki, eiji!” you scream into katsuki’s skin as an orgasm more intense than any before tears through you, a convulsing, mind-breaking wave that has you clamping down on eijiro so hard he shouts.

“fuck! she’s—!” eijiro’s thrusts become erratic, then he slams home one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he roars his release.

you feel the hot rush of his seed joining katsuki’s inside you, the overwhelming fullness making you sob through the last tremors of your own climax. “ngh… fu—no more. ah…”

katsuki holds you through all of it, whispering praises into your hair. “i got you. just ride it out… that’s my girl, took us both so well…”

slowly, gently, eijiro slips out of you, leaning forward to press a tender kiss between your shoulder blades. “you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice reverent.

you are utterly spent, a boneless, trembling mess between them.

katsuki shifts, lying back and pulling you with him so you’re sprawled half on his chest. eijiro settles behind you, his big body curling around yours, one heavy arm draping over your waist to splay possessively on katsuki’s stomach. you are sandwiched in their heat, in their scent, filled with their essence.

the last thing you feel is katsuki’s lips brushing your forehead and his final, drowsy murmur. “ours.” the last thing you hear is eijiro’s low, content hum of agreement against the back of your neck.

then the world dissolves into warm, dark, satiated nothing.

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“you'd think a man in your sport would have better control of his temper,” you drawl, completely disregarding his frustration that's bubbling and boiling over.

snarling, his lips curl back, ready to cut you down with his creative vocabulary only to be startled when you flick his nose. hard. manicured nails clinking against his septum piercing. it stings as he gives an involuntary whine, eyes watering from the pain.

“kindly remove yourself from my proximity and go clean up,” you tell him and while your voice is polite, it's more of a command than a suggestion. “you reek.”

right, sukuna thinks, he's caked in dirt and sweat. he's meek for some reason. perhaps it's your scent that's a heady cocktail of milk, apples and warmth, it makes him feel a bit drowsy with how soothing it is.

clearing your throat, you arch a brow. embarrassed, he withdraws to find the tip of one of his horns broken off. karma, you think smugly, watching the referees back away now that he's left all on his own, marching off without so much as glance back.

but the tips of his ears are pink as they flutter, tail stiff and you can't decide if that's from embarrassment or anger. maybe a bit of both.

“that's the bull hybrid you want to pass down his genes?” you ask geto later over a glass of wine at a nearby bar. “fat fucking chance.”

“he brings in the money and lots of it. we'd make a fortune if there were more hybrids like him in the ring! please,” toji cuts in from behind you, both men flanking you at the bar counter.

you're close friends with geto's fellow farmer, shoko, having helped her start up her milk business since you're a veterinarian and make sure her livestock is in tip top shape at all times. so when the handsome man with dark, long hair asked if you could carry the babies of his prized bull hybrid friend, you'd said you think about it.

it's why you came to this degenerate fight ring in the first place though after that unsavory first encounter, you're not so sure you want to have anything to do with him.

the flashing sign of the bar flickers, casting a sickly green glow over the scarred wooden table. you swirl the red liquor in your glass, it reminds you of his eyes. you scoff, feeling the phantom pressure of a heavy weight against your chest. your shoulders still ache from being slammed into the arena wall three days ago.

"look, he’s just... high-strung," the farmer says, leaning in, his desperation is palpable.

beside him, his farmhand—a man whose eyes see dollar signs instead of souls—nods eagerly. "he’s a virgin, girl. he doesn't know what to do with all that testosterone. if he could just get a successful knot, he’d settle down."

"he’s a beast," you say flatly. you’ve been bred by the best and the worst. you’ve handled bulls that weighed twice as much as this one, bulls who thought they were biggest and meanest around until you broke them in. but this one? he didn’t want a mate. he wanted a victim for his rage. "he’s too big, too mean, and frankly, i don’t get paid enough to be his punching bag."

you refuse the breeding contract. but, out of loyalty to your mutual friend and a soft spot for the heavy-bellied cows in the barn, you agree to stay for a week as a midwife.

the first two days on the farm are a test of silence. sukuna is everywhere, a flash of pink here and a tatted hand there, helping you when you certainly didn't ask.

you’re kneeling in the hay, checking a heifer’s dilation, and you feel that heavy, oppressive shadow fall over you.

"i didn't mean to hit the wall so hard," a deep, gravelly voice rumbles behind you.

you don't look up. you don't even flinch. "go away."

he doesn't. instead, he starts leaving things.

a basket of sun-warmed peaches, their skins bursting with sweetness. a lattice-topped cherry pie, still warm, smells like cinnamon and apology. a fresh glass of orange juice and all the tangerines you could eat after hearing you gush about how much you liked the fruit.

nervously, he lingers around, brushing the horses manes that were groomed just that morning in an attempt to hover near and watch you enjoy the treats, his tail flicking whenever you let out an accidental hum in delight.

against your better judgement, the peace offerings had shaved down your dislike but not as much as watching him chase after the little lamb that fled from you when you tried to do its check up. watching it nuzzle against his neck while he chuckled was annoyingly endearing.

in the glittering lake on geto's property, you often catch glimpses of the now timid hybrid swimming with fuzzy, yellow ducklings that follow him as if he's their mother.

other times it's when he's running around with the resident buffalo, splashing in the water and laying on its back as they both bask in the afternoon sun.

you even catch him taking naps with the fluffy, highland cows beneath the shade of a tree, dappled in sunlight with his hat tipped over his face, breathing steadily as a calf sleeps on his chest.

it's all very wholesome and cute but there was one time that left you hot and bothered more than you'd ever admit. you'd gone into the bathhouse without knocking, wanting to soak in one of the big, wooden tubs after a long day.

only you weren't alone, you came to find out, when you walked in on him, brawny, tanned body rising from the glossy tub, droplets trickling down his tattoos and plopping into the water.

the surface rippled, steam curling and making it hard to breathe as he stood to his full height, towering over with rippling, sculpted muscles. slicking back his blush locks with his hand, his half-hard cock bobbed when rolled his shoulders and sighed.

god, he put most men to shame and he wasn't even at full mast.

blinking out of your stupor, you sputtered, “uh, sorry! i thought it was empty.”

that's when he realises you're there, ears twitching in his hair as his low-lidded eyes flit up to yours just as his hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it lazily.

“no worries, sweetheart. i was just leaving,” he rumbled, unfazed as he stepped out of the tub, hand falling from his leaking cock as he draped a towel around his hips and walked out, shaking the water out of his wet hair as you gaped.

on the third night, you find a necklace on your pillow. it’s a leather cord strung with a polished white tip, the base plated with a gold cap. you recognize the texture—it’s the piece of his horn that snapped off when he charged you in the arena. to a bull hybrid, giving away a piece of his horn is like giving away a piece of his pride.

curiosity finally gets the better of you. on the fourth night, you head toward the secluded bachelor pad at the edge of the property. you intend to tell him to stop the gifts, to tell him that a piece of bone doesn't make up for a bruised rib.

the door is ajar. inside, the air is thick—cloying and sweet, like overripe clover and heavy musk. you hear a pained, wet groan.

"go... away," he wheezes.

you push the door open. he’s slumped on a reinforced bench, stripped to his waist. he looks massive, his muscles twitching with a feverish heat. but something is wrong. his chest is heaving, his pecs swollen and tight, looking almost engorged.

as your eyes adjust, you gasp. his dark, pebbled nipples are slick and glossy. a white droplet teases the edge of one, hanging heavy before falling to splash against his thigh.

"you're...lactating?" you whisper in disbelief, stepping closer.

he covers his chest with a massive, trembling hand, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed crimson.

"it only happens during the rut," he grunts, his voice breaking. "because i've never... i'm backed up. it hurts. it's disgusting."

you’ve seen a lot in the breeding circuits, but the sight of this terrifying, "mean" bull reduced to a shivering, leaking mess stirs something different in you.

after all, you're a doctor. you're bound to want to help someone in agony.

no other reason...

"it's not disgusting," you say softly, reaching out to pull his hand away. your fingers brush his skin; he’s burning up. "you’re just full. all that pressure has nowhere to go."

he looks up at you, eyes blown wide and glassy with desperation. he’s so much bigger than you, but at this moment, he’s helpless.

"i can help you," you murmur, leaning in until you can smell the creaminess of him. "can i drink from them? it’ll help."

a low, vibrating rumble starts in his chest—not a growl this time, but a plea. he nods frantically, his hands falling to his sides as he arches his chest toward you, offering himself up.

"please," he chokes out. "please, just do it."

the silence of the barn is replaced by the wet, sloppy sound of your thirst. you lean in, your hands framing his bulging, burning chest. up close, the scent is intoxicating—heavy, floral, and concentrated like condensed cream.

you take one glossed, turgid nipple into your mouth, and the moment your tongue swirls around the tip, he lets out a shattered, high-pitched gasp.

the milk surges forward, filling your mouth instantly. a thick, sweet stream hits the back of your throat, and you have to swallow hard to keep up with the flow.

it’s richer than any bovine milk you’ve ever tasted, warm and laced with the musk of his rut. you moan against his skin, your throat working in deep, greedy gulps. he’s shaking violently now, his large hands hovering over your head, wanting to grab you but terrified of his own strength.

"god," he rasps, his head lolling back against the wall. "y-you’re actually—ah!"

as you drain one side, your hand wanders down. you find the heavy, straining heat of his denim, palming the massive bulge that has kept him in such a foul, frustrated temper. he’s huge—frighteningly so—but as you squeeze, he doesn't growl. he whimpers.

moving your hand away, you shift your focus to the other side, your mouth latching onto the second engorged pec. you massage the firm muscle with your palms, coaxing the milk out, feeling the internal pressure finally begin to subside. every time your thumb brushes the base of his cock through the fabric, his hips buck uncontrollably.

he’s pinning you between his knees now, his thick thighs trembling as he tries to get closer to the relief you’re providing. you welcome it with an approving hum, legs spread around one of his thick limbs, grinding your aching clit down on the muscle.

"more," he pants, his voice losing its edge, melting into something soft and needy. "please, drink it all. i’m so full... i’m so—fuck—"

you don’t stop until the tightness in his chest softens, his skin cooling as you drain the fever from him. you pull back, a thin trail of white escaping the corner of your mouth, looking up at the "mean" bull who is now nothing more than putty in your hands.

he looks down at you, dazed and completely undone, his dignity traded for the sheer, blissful relief of being handled by someone who isn't afraid of his size.

taking your free hand, he gulps nervously, hesitantly dragging it under the waistband of his pants, right over his pulsing shaft. hips quivering under your warm, soft palm, he presses them into your touch and your fingers curl around his length, the tips of them not meeting owing to how thick he is.

groaning into his pec, a drop of milk trickles down from the corner of your mouth as you suckle harder, thumbing the slit of his cock and smearing his weeping precum along the veiny, ridged shaft.

hot breaths pant out of him heavily as you peer up at him, pussy pounding at the lewd expression on his face, lips parted, brows creased and eyes drooping.

“is this okay?” you ask, lips popping off his tit to lick up the dribbling milk. you don't want to waste a single drop.

a groan clogs in his throat when you begin to stroke his cock, his hips twitching for more as his stomach shudders, thrusting into your hold whenever you rub the tip. needing it wetter, you suck in your cheeks then let a thick glob of warm spit spat onto his jerking tip.

you look so drunk like this, drunk on him, he can't help toying with your ears that flutter like the wings of a butterfly, nudging your nose with his so you lift you chin and he can lick a flat, wide stripe up from your neck to your lips, cleaning the streak of sweet milk from there.

it tastes like a melted vanilla ice cream and a hint of your fresh apple scent.

“fucking perfect, baby. please,” he whines, cupping the back of your head and guiding your eager mouth to latch onto his nipple again, a bead of milk bubbling there again as your tongue swirls around it.

you straddled his lap, both hands wrapped around his cock now, slick, squelching clicking between his thighs as you pump him in snug, long strokes that have him giving deep huffs as his tail curls around your ankle, tickling your foot while you drink from him.

something snaps in him when you pinch his mushroom cockhead and you yelp when he flips you onto your back, crowding you. his hands brace themselves on the bench as he thrusts his cock fast and hard into the ring of your hands, harsh grunts and feral groans spilling into the air.

“ah, ryo, i can't—” you fuss, wanting to suck on his jiggling tits some more, still hungry for that sweet, condensed milk of his that's coating your tongue and throat.

though you're not complaining about the hypnotic sight of them bouncing in your vision, so plump and bruised with pretty indents of your teeth.

realising what he'd done, his thrusts stutter to a stop as a sheepishly pushes his cock into your hands again. “sorry.”

“it's okay,” you assure him, pushing him onto his back again so you can suck his nipple into your mouth, humping his thigh as you jerk him off at the pace he'd been fucking into your hands until his a squirming mess, his tail playing with yours.

you had to hand it to shoko and geto, they were right about you being able to handle this rough and tough bull hybrid.

little did you know, you two had a one-man audience. a peeping tom. the scar at the corner of his lip stretched when he grinned sleazily as he fucked his fist just outside the home, one green eye cast in a warm strip of light from the ajar door.

note: inspired by the talented @bluukive's bull hybrid!toji and @vals-lente's gladiator!minotaur <333 *posts and logs off*

before you even get a chance to pull him, he's already making quick work to escape, using the heat of his flames to vaporize the water-whip. rather quickly, the palace garden becomes overtaken with a thick, imperceptible fog, and once again, the air grows suffocating. you can't see him, but you can feel him. the heat of his flames. the smell of ash. he moves with the delicateness of a blown dandelion, like smoke sifting through air.

it's so quiet, so still, that the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own blood rushing through your veins. the ringing in your ears as you try to focus on your surroundings. it should scare you — being exposed like this, like a prey animal — but any feelings of fear are quickly replaced with those of unadulterated excitement.

still en garde, you cautiously begin treading through the fog, turning every-so-often so as to avoid being caught in a sneak attack from behind. somewhere in proximity to you, you hear the faint sound of shuffling, and you turn on your heels quickly, ready to attack — only, there's nobody there. every attempt made by you to clear the fog is pathetically thwarted, and any space you somehow manage to clear, is almost immediately replenished.

your excitement was beginning to wane. this little game of cat-and-mouse was quickly starting to grow irksome, and you wanted to just say, "to hell with this sparring match!" but you decided to hold your tongue instead.

if you were going to win, you were going to have to play dirty. "growing tired, fire lord? or are you scared to face me?" you yell into the fog, a smirk playing on your lips. no response.

smiling, you open your mouth to speak again, "fine. i guess i'll have to spar with the avatar, at least he doesn't hide from my attacks like a coward," you start, abandoning your stance. you lace your hands behind your back, and begin to walk further through the fog, feigning indifference. "the thing i love about aang, is that he's not afraid to take a blo–" your sentence is cut off unceremoniously.

in comes zuko, barreling through the fog with an onslaught of flames. the attack is sudden, but doesn't hinder you from delivering your next series of blows. now that you've got him in close range again, you deliver your dirtiest trick of all.

you close your eyes again, and focus not only on your nearest surroundings, but everything. the moisture in the air, the sweat on your skin, the water in the flowers of the garden, the blood rushing through your body — his body. then, with the self-assuredness of a trained assassin, you bring him to his knees, forcing him down into the stone with a strong but steady hand.

the man's amber-gold eyes blow wide, not in fear, but in shock. he strains against your hold, but to no avail. slowly, as if you were a hunter admiring a fresh kill, you begin to encircle him. holding him here, like this, you can feel everything. the sweat above his brow, the saliva pooling in his mouth, the blood pumping through his heart and traveling to his other organs. the artery on the side of his neck is pulsating so wildly it might as well be an extension of your own. eventually, you halt your movements and bend down to kneel before him, inching close enough until your lips are just centimeters away from his.

"forgive me for playing dirty, baby, but i've had enough of sparring for today," you whisper, tilting your head in preparation for a kiss, ghosting your lips over his. "i can think of a few things that are just as productive, and none of them involve these..." you rasp, hand wrapping around his robe. the words die on your lips the moment you make contact with his, and with one smooth flick of your wrist, you relenquish control over his body.

without hesitation, he grabs you by the shoulders and pins you down into the rough stone of the garden ground. his grip is bruising, and his thumbs, which are positioned on either side of your collarbone, leave crescent-shaped indents in their wake, but there's no real threat. no bite.

"you're right," he breathes, looming over you, chest pressing to yours, "that was pretty dirty. i should punish you for it, leave you here to…" he removes a hand from your shoulder, trails it down the space between your chest, down the expanse of your stomach, then settles between the aching heat of your thighs. he cups your cunt over the fabric, and you shudder at the contact. "…should leave you to take care of it yourself."

zuko practically curses under his breath. he can feel you through your pants and — shit, you're so wet. he has half a mind to take you right here. to ravage you, and pull you apart threadbare, while you're lying on your back for him, so willing and ready — but the self-discipline he's honed over the years is ironclad. unlike you, he's learned to be patient. to take his time. and right now, he was going to show you exactly what it looked like when someone played dirty tricks.

squirming in his hold, you push up from your elbows, chin high and eyes sparkling with something that does nothing to calm the ache in his cock. feeling emboldened, you lean up, the beginnings of mischief on the tip of your tongue. "being mean doesn't suit you," you prod, peering up at him through long lashes, giving them an avian flutter.

zuko chuckles, deep and drawn out, and you can feel the vibration of it in your ribs. he takes a rule from your playbook, puts his face real close to yours, so close that you think he's going to kiss you — but he quickly bypasses your lips and droops down to your ear instead.

his breath is hot on the shell of your ear when he whispers, "and being a brat doesn't suit you. like you a lot better when you're nice to me. think i let you get away with too much," he says, hands already making quick work of disrobing you. "if i rewarded insolent behavior, that'd make me a bad fire lord, wouldn't it?"

you turn your gaze, mulling over what to say. "so, make an example out of me, fire lord," you breathe, tone laced with something raw, bleeding with want and desperation. you cease your squirming, lay your head back against the stone, and look up at him through lidded eyes. the blue of your irises so dark, that they almost look obsidian in the afternoon light.

"i yield," you exclaim. " i yield, i yield, i yie–!"

he captures your lips in a fervent kiss, and whatever ounce of discipline he thought he had, is long since forgotten the second you sigh into his mouth. immediately, you melt into his embrace, and he loosens his grip on your shoulders to hoist you up and into his lap. your hands are quick to wrap around his neck, and you take advantage of this new position to press your body closer to his, letting your lower half rock languidly over his clothed crotch. he responds with a soft groan, and you drink it down immediately, licking a wet stripe across his lips so you can lick into his mouth.

briefly, you pull away, and a crystalline rope of saliva tethers from your mouth to his. breathless and panting, you draw your head far enough to study him. his silk robes are disheveled, the pieces of hair that frame his face stick to his skin like wet parchment, his lips are slick with spit, and his chest and face are smattered in a deep, crimson-red shade that resembles the color of his hanfu.

he's so beautiful like this, you think. when he's not bearing the weight of an entire nation's misdeeds on his shoulders. when he's not bearing the weight of his father's sins, and everyone else who came before him. reaching up, your finger traces the royal headpiece nestled in his bun, trails across the ridges of each point. slowly, you lift it from his head, and watch as his long, raven locks falls into place around his shoulders.

"back then, they'd have your hand for removing a fire lord's headpiece from his hair," he says, leaning back on his hands.

"yeah, well, just add it to my long list of offenses," you smirk, wrapping your arms around his neck again. "plus, i think this fire lord happens to enjoy me."

zuko leans in, rests his forehead against yours. "i do?" he asks, voice light and teasing.

"you do," you say, matter-off-factly, lips ghosting over his. "it's why you let me misbehave so much."

"you're right, and that stops right now," he replies, though, you know his threats are empty and hold no real weight. it shows in the way he kisses you, how he picks you up and carries you to the grass. shows in the way he slips his thick fingers into your weeping slit, working you open until you're a sobbing, desperate mess for him. and when you're begging for him, so wet, and pleading, and pliable, that's when he unsheathes himself from his robes.

fists his aching cock once, twice, before he's leaning over your expectant body, one arm nestled beside your head, and the other wrapped around the base of him, lining up with your core. his eyes flit from your face to between your bodies, and he watches intently as the head of his cock begins to breach past your folds. the both of you shiver upon contact, and you find your arms wrapping around his back, fingertips leaving impressions into the heated skin. slowly, he pushes further and further, until there's no telling where he ends and you begin, and the second he's fully sheathed, the both of you throw your heads back.

he's so deep, and so heavy inside of you, and it stings. it should be easier after so many times, but it never is, and when he attempts to move, you squeeze your thighs around his hips so as to still him.

"just be still, please. for a second," you gasp, closing your eyes, trying not to focus on the intrusion, the twitching of his cock inside your walls. while the two of you lay still, zuko begins to busy himself with your lips. kisses you slow, with purpose, like he's trying to compartmentalize the shape of them to memory, and how they taste, and how they feel as they move against his. if agni decided, for whatever reason, to strike him down at this very second, he thinks he'd die happy. being between your thighs, kissing you breathless, he never grows tired of it. it's addicting, almost, and scary — how easily he loses any semblance of sense around you.

he tears himself from your lips, noses against your jawline, down the column of your throat, kisses and bites the skin there until you're littered in marks of his creation. the pain has long since subsided, and now you're eager for him to make a mess of you, to take you apart, piece by piece.

you find your hand snaking into his hair, and with a firm, but gentle tug, you pull him from the interstice of your neck and say, "do your worst, show me how i ought to behave around a fire lord."

sitting back on his haunches, he pulls all the way out of you, leaving just the tip of him inside, and then plunges all the way back into you with a devilish smirk. the force pushes you up against the grass, and your back arches in response, giving him enough access to maneuver you onto his lap. adjusting to the new position, one arm settles on the fat of your ass, and the other reaches up to cup your jaw. his grip on your jaw is vice, rough, and he turns your head to force your gaze to his. slowly, he begins rolling his hips, lifting you all the way up, just to bring you all the way back down with cruel precision.

"doesn't matter how hard i give it to you," he grits through bared teeth, his fingers pressing into your cheeks, "you're just gonna do what you want anyway, hm?"

you let out a soft laugh, hands sifting through silk locks again, grabbing a fistful. "you make it easy," you say, tugging on the strands. "you just look so cute when you're mad at me, and you get that knot between your brows. how can i no–!" he interrupts your admission with a sharp, punctuated thrust.

"you're such a brat," a thrust, "so stubborn all the time, and you've got such a smart mouth… but agni," another, "the way you fuck me, the way you fit around me… makes up for all the headaches." removing his hand from your jaw, he halts his ministrations briefly to slip off his hanfu until he's left in just his tunic. he lays it flat on the grass, then gently settles you down against it before grabbing you by the hips, and flipping you onto your hands and knees. without pause, he lines himself up again with your cunt, and pushes all the way to the hilt, until the plush, pad of your bottom is flush with his pelvis.

he doesn't even give you a second to adjust to the intrusion, immediately pulling out of you, and plunging back in, forcing your back into an impossible arch so that he can sink even deeper. you drop to your elbows in reponse, laying your head against the cotton fabric, and stuff it in your mouth to keep from screaming out for everyone on the palace grounds to hear.

his staff had been suspecting there might be something going on between the two of you. between all the "sparring matches," and "diplomatic meetings," and "impromptu visits," they figured you were more than just the fire lord's friend. it was the palace's best-kept-open-secret — everyone in his retinue knew, but nobody had ever been bold enough to question it. still, you didn't want to confirm their suspicions.

zuko notices you biting down on the fabric, and he forces you up on your knees, holding your hands behind your back. "don't act shy now," he grunts, hands tightening around your arms, "you needn't worry about anyone hearing. they're paid to mind their business. so, please, let me hear you."

you shake your head, stuttering out a small no, and he responds by wrapping a hand around your throat, so that he can press you flush against his chest. with his free hand, he sneaks his way down to the flesh between your thighs, and he presses two, fat fingers against your clit. he circles the nub in tight, quick sucession, and your back bows against him. a loud, debauched moan rips from your throat, and though you can't see it, there's a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips. his chin lowers to rest on your shoulder, and he turns to whisper in your ear, "good, so you can take direction. again, louder. this time, say my name."

"z-zuko – ngh – faster," you demand, hand shooting up to rest against the one he has on your throat. zuko obliges, quickening his rhythm, pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt, all while his other hand continues to work your swollen clit raw. you're breathless, and panting, and every inch of your body feels lit aflame, like you've been submerged in a vat of liquid-hot lava. you're fluttering around him now, a telltale sign of your impending release — and you can tell he's close too. his breaths grow shallower, and his thrusts, once fast and precise, are becoming erratic.

"are you close?" he asks, fingers relentless. you nod rapidly, crying out a breathless yes. without unsheathing himself, zuko forces you down onto your stomach, fucks you that way, and rocks into you like an animal gone rabid. it's obscene, unbecoming of a man with as much authority as he has, but he can't be bothered to care. not really. not when you're a sobbing mess beneath him, moaning his name, telling him how good he feels, how deep he is, and squeezing around his cock like a vice.

the knot in your stomach is taut, and threatens to unravel with every thrust of him that bumps closer, and closer to your cervix. the pleasure is so dizzying, that you're not even aware you're speaking. "i-i'm c-close!" you shriek, mouth agape. "come with me. w-want it inside."

unceremoniously, you come with a shrill cry, and the air shifts around you, becomes suffocating. your body stiffens, before relaxing, and you — all but literally — melt into the ground beneath you. your subconcious mind is anywhere but here at the moment, somewhere above, up in the clouds. your body feels like it's made of sea foam, you feel so light, that you briefly question if you're even real.

with a few more punctuated thrusts, zuko follows behind you, spilling his white-hot seed deep inside of you. you squeeze around him from the sensation, and he whimpers in response before falling atop of you. lazily, he continues to pump you full of his cum, and then rolls off of your limp body.

the two of you lay in the warmth of the afternoon sun, and the gentle breeze in the air does well to cool your sweat-slicked, over-heated bodies. eventually, the rapid rise and fall of your chests begin to slow, and your breaths return to a more relaxed state. when you turn your head to look at him, his chest is flushed all the way to his cheeks, and there's a calm expression overtaking his sharp features. you scoot closer, draping half of your body atop his chest, and just observe him.

you've never been shy about admiring him. lazily, you trace the planes of his face with your finger. you let it wander over his jaw, the rough edges of his scar, across his forehead, down his nose, then stop at his lips. you run your fingertip along the plush pads, before abandoning them to thread your fingers through his silky-smooth, raven hair.

"you're beautiful," you whisper, more so to yourself, not really looking for an answer. his eyes flicker across your face, then he sits up on his elbows, and places a chaste kiss to your lips. short, sweet, but firm.

"i love you," he says, unthinking. he's never said it before, nor have you, but he's thought it on more than one occasion, and he's always known it. hesitantly, you pull away, and he thinks he's upset you, but then you're tackling him into the grass, kissing him breathless.

"you love me?" your voice is so small, so sheepish, barely above a whisper. he can't even believe it's coming from you, that someone as loud, and stubborn, and annoying as you can sound so unsure. he wants to tease you for it, but he doesn't.

"of course, why else do you think i put up with all your mischief?" he admits, throwing an arm behind his head. "i mean, being gorgeous can only get you so far…"

gasping, you slap his chest, and he lets out a boisterous laugh. "oh, really? i happen to think this face has gotten me pretty far," you say, poking him. "you were practically undressing me with your eyes the moment we met!"

zuko raises his arm up in surrender, metaphorically waving the white flag. "okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he laughs. you squint your eyes playfully, raising a brow. "alright, maybe i did perhaps, think about you naked the first time we met. and you've exceeded my expectations, so you should pat yourself on the back — mmf!"

this time, you cut him off with a kiss. "okay, let's head back now before your advisor has my head," you say, huffing out an exasperated breath. as you begin to pull yourself from his hold, he pulls you right back down, keeping you pressed to his side.

"let him wait," he sighs, hands hiking up your skirts, "the fire lord is busy."

My Hero Academia

Idol!AU

Infomation // Snippets

Bias and Bias Wrecker - Idol!Alpha!KiriBaku x Stylist!Omega!FemReader

You had been a Nexus for many years before joing U.A. Entertainment as a hair stylist for NextGen. Little did you know the hotest topic for group was who was you bias and who was your bias wrecker.

Frenzy - Idol!Alpha!Kirishima x Pack!NextGen x PA!Omega!FemReader

Being a PA omega for idol group NextGen was a dream turned nightmare. After a traumatic event during a schedule, the pack step in pulling your back from panic, back from loosing yourself to your omega.

KiriBaku

Welcome Home Omega - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader

Omega y/n returns home to her pack after so many years aboard being a successful hero, now they fear being rejecting by her pack and more importantly her alpha’s.

Omega Stop - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader

Omega y/n returns home to her alpha’s after being away in Europe, thinking she would be able to re-join her alphas and be happy. Only to discover they move on without her.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Pheromone Shower - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader

Alpha Kirishima gets hit by a quirk at work and runs from Alpha Bakugou with only one thought on his mind, their omega y/n. ** There will be 2 other matching with each member of the couple getting hit - tbw**

Some Alpha you are, Pathetic! - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader

You and Bakugou knew one thing for certain, Kirishima was already in your pack. But with your heat approaching you belived it was time to say it outloud, little did you know Bakugou is a very jealous, insecure alpha and feels threatened...

Without you, there is no us. - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x Omega!Reader

Bakugou is finally home after so many years undercover, the only issue the people he loves the most in the world, got together while he was away, and are expecting. Leaving him behind or so he thought.

Safe with Us - ProHero!Alpha!Kiribaku x MidroiyaTwin!Reader

You were Midroiya's twin, Bakugou's mate but life isn't easy and one day you were kidnapped, stripped from everything you know. Many years have passed, Bakugou has moved on but only now have you been able to escape, to return to your family. A family that has moved on.

Part 1 Part 2

You're right where you belong - Alpha!Kirishima x Omega!Bakugou x Omega!Reader

Everyone around you had someone. What was wrong with you? Everyone in your pack moved on and was happy, but you could not find the specific moment that everything started to feel like it was all falling apart. The feeling seeped into every moment of your life and at this moment it felt like it was always there. You thought you had a place with Bakugou and Kirishima but they were happily mated and has no need for you. The easiest outcome, dissappear into the background and everyone will forget you, eventually.

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5

Bakugou Katsuki

Glitz & Glamour - ProHero!Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader

Omega y/n gets lost trying to find her way to the Hero’s gala and her Alpha is not too pleased by this.

As It Should Have Been *RETIRED* - ProHero!Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader

Bakugou didn't deserve to be where he was, he didn't deserve his number 1 spot as a pro-hero, he ruined your life and in turn, you will ruin his by taking everything he wanted in his life, a family, a happy omega and a successful rut. *RETIRED, NO MORE PARTS OR UPDATES*

Our Narrative - ProHero!Bakugou x ProHero!Reader

IS THIS THE END TO JAPAN'S FAVOURITE HERO COUPLE? What happens when a certain blonde hero cheats on his loyal girlfriend of 10 years?

You've alot of nerve - Fantasy!Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader

Omega y/n goes on the run to help her family and tribe, but now it's time to come home, y/n only hopes its not too late for her alpha.

Relax! Please? - Bakugou x Reader

life? Overwhelming. School? Overwhelming. Your friends? Overwhelming. The dorms? Overehemling, there is not break to it all, or is there?

4 v 1 - Bakugou x Reader

There were four moments in Bakugou life that he let you slip through his fingers and one moment he didn’t.

Kirishima Eijrou

Fainites - ProHero!Alpha!Kirishima x Omega!Reader

10 years ago, y/n made the decision to leave her family and have the life she always wanted with Kirishima after graduating. Something happened the night of graduation, alone and heartbroken y/n leaves Japan, closing that chapter of her life. Now number 1 in Europe, she must return to Japan for a quick assessment, what happens when she sees his toothy grin again.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Losing you would be the end of me - Kirishima x Reader

There was one thing you and Kirishima wanted in life and that was to be parents together and grow old together. In a turn of events, Kirishima has to deal with the prospects that he'll have to do it all without by his side.

His hair is black? - Kirishima x Reader

You and Kirishima just welcomed your first son to the world, he's the spitting image of his father, jet black hair and all. The thing is, Yuki's Uncles and Aunts, don't know the signature jet-black hair from the Kirishima clan and suspect foul play.

Keep it Hidden - Snippet

Being Bakugous twin was a struggle, being in love and secretly dating his best friend was even more of a struggle when all hero's have their annually holiday get away. How will you and Kirishima navaigate this trip.

"Keep it Hidden" - ProHero!Kirishima x TwinBakugou!Reader

Maybe your secret relationship wasn't as secret as you both thought

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I've been a fool - ProHero!Alpha! Kirishima x BakugouSibling!Reader

Kirishima was a strong alpha. Everything you could want a partner. There had been multiple times in which you had almost kissed, but you both knew what it was. Both of you are too afraid to speak about it. But what happens when the door is opened and somebody forgets.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Denki Kaminari

Runs in the family - Denki x Reader

You felt it was time to introduce your long term boyfriend, Denki, to your dads. What you didn’t expect was for him to be so nervous.

Hanta Sero

Unspoken Words - ProHero!Sero x ProHero!Reader

Being heroes was a difficult job, maintaining relationships almost impossible, finding someone for sex play that hasn't already made up a picture in their head? Absolutely impossible.

Shouta Aizawa

Pending

Attack on Titan

Levi Ackerman

Hidden in Plain Sight

Having almost lost their lives due to the inexperience of recent cadets, Captain Y/N demands change and places themselves at the mercy of the 104th. While training with the new cadets, y/n might have to reveal more of her life than she wanted, when a broken Levi and Cadets enter her home uninvited. Her secret life is pulled into the open, making her say goodbye to the little piece of quiet she had for a few years.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (pending)

Failed Experiment - Snippet

Alpha!Levi Ackerman x Omega!Reader Summery - pending

Erwin Smith

I Need You Still

Erwin was your life, but humanity needed him more. You left the scouts and him and found a new life for you and your secret child he never knew about. Now Marley attack Paradis and all retired server members are called back to their stations, its time to talk about the elephant in the room.

Jean Kirstein

Borrowed Time

Y/n and Jean’s relationship had always been rough but now she has to train him to be a perfect scout, the past resurfaces and brings with it old wounds that never healed.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Alternative Ending

You walked toward the reception area, your heels clicking on the polished floor. Shoko, the Beta receptionist with the perpetually polite smile, looked up from her computer. Her eyes roamed over you, catching the marks and the heavy scent of sex and Alpha pheromones that clung to you like a second skin, too deeply ingrained for any shower to wash away. Shoko’s smile didn't falter, but her eyes gleamed with a knowing, professional curiosity.

"Everything satisfactory, Miss?" Shoko asked, her tone smooth.

You felt the heat rush up your neck to your ears. You nodded quickly, unable to trust your voice. Satisfactory. It was a laughable understatement. You had been ruined in the best way possible, turned inside out and put back together with a knot that had reshaped your insides.

"More than satisfactory," you managed to whisper, your voice raspy. You gripped the strap of your handbag tighter, the business card burning a hole in the pocket where you’d shoved it.

"Excellent," Shoko said, typing something into her log. "We look forward to seeing you again."

You didn't respond. You pushed through the glass doors of the clinic and out into the city night. The air was cool, a sharp contrast to the humid warmth of the suite, but it did nothing to quell the fire still smoldering in your blood.

The ride home was a blur of streetlights and internal panic. Every time the cab slowed, you tensed, waiting for the driver to turn around, to smell the potent Alpha residue on you and comment on it. But he just hummed along to the radio, oblivious to the Omega in his backseat who was currently carrying the load of one of the most dangerous Alphas in the city.

When you finally unlocked the door to your apartment, the scent of home—vanilla air freshener and Nobara’s fruity shampoo—washed over you. It was grounding, free of the sharp edges of Alpha or Omega pheromones—a distinctly Beta kind of calm—but it also highlighted how alien you felt in your own body.

You had barely kicked off your heels when Nobara appeared in the doorway of the living room. Your roommate’s eyes went wide, scanning you from head to toe. Nobara was a whirlwind of energy, her brown bob bouncing as she practically vibrated in place.

"Oh my god," Nobara breathed, rushing forward. She grabbed your hands, then stopped, staring at the dark bruises visible on your collarbone above the neckline of the black dress. "You look... you look like you survived a natural disaster. A sexy, Alpha-shaped natural disaster."

You let out a breathy laugh, the tension in your shoulders finally releasing. "It was intense, Nobara. I don't even know where to start."

Nobara dragged you to the couch and pushed you down. "Start at the beginning. Don't you dare leave out a single detail. I want the dirty, the gross, the romantic—all of it."

You leaned back, closing your eyes. The memory of Toji’s hands, his voice, the sheer overwhelming size of him flooded back. You told Nobara everything—the way he’d dominated you, the filth he’d whispered in your ear, the way he’d knotted you until you couldn't think. You recounted the possessiveness, the terrifyingly delicious feeling of being completely at his mercy.

"And then," you said, your voice dropping to a hush, "he gave me this."

You pulled the business card from your pocket. Heavy, white—expensive stock, stamped with black lettering. Toji Fushiguro. Beneath it, his phone number. And scrawled underneath, in jagged, aggressive handwriting: Call me.

Nobara snatched the card from your hand, staring at it like it was a holy relic. "No way," she whispered. "Toji Fushiguro? The guy who supposedly has a waiting list six months long? The guy they say never repeats clients?" She looked up at you, her dark eyes sparkling. "Do you know what this means? Toji Fushiguro is off the market. I’m calling it right now. You broke him."

You laughed, but the sound was hollow. "I doubt that, Nobara. I really do."

"Why? He gave you his private number. He marked you up like a graffiti wall."

"I know, but..." you traced the seam of the couch, your brow furrowing. "His eyes, Nobara. When he was saying all those things... they were completely black. His pupils were fully dilated. He was overcome. It was the rut, the pheromones. He wasn't thinking with his brain; he was thinking with his knot."

Nobara waved a dismissive hand. "So? Men are idiots regardless of their biology. If he said it, he felt it."

"But what if it was just the heat of the moment?" your chest tightened. "Alphas in a rut are the biggest liars known to mankind. They’ll promise you the moon, a house, and a litter of pups just to get their rocks off. Post-nut clarity is a real thing, Nobara. He’s probably back to normal right now, wondering why the hell he gave me his number."

Nobara’s expression softened, the teasing edge fading. She sat back, tucking her legs under her. "Okay, hypothetical scenario. What if you’re pregnant?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, flat and soft under the black dress. A shiver went through you, not entirely unpleasant. The thought of a child... Toji’s child. It was terrifying, and yet, a dark, secret part of you thrilled at the idea.

"I don't know," you admitted. "I hope I’m not. Or maybe... maybe I do want to be? If I knew for a fact that he would choose me. If he would stay, provide for us, actually be a partner." You shook your head. "But that’s a fantasy. In the real world, I’m just a client he liked for a few hours. If I am pregnant, I’m on my own."

"Hey," Nobara said sharply, leaning forward to poke your arm. "You are never on your own. You’ve got me. And if that Alpha knock-up sticks and he tries to bail, I will personally hunt him down and castrate him with a rusty spoon."

You smiled, grateful for Nobara’s fierce loyalty. "Thanks, Nobara."

"Seriously though," Nobara continued, her tone shifting back to practicality. "Next time, you need to be careful. Those special contraception pills for Omegas? The ones that block conception even during peak heat? You need to get them."

"I know," you sighed. "They’re insanely expensive, though."

"So? We can afford it. We split rent on this amazing place, we eat too much takeout, and we look cute doing it. Skip a few nights out and buy the pills. Your dignity—and your uterus—will thank you."

You nodded. Nobara was right. You had been reckless, swept away by the tide of Toji’s dominance, but you couldn't live on luck forever. And you did have the money. That was why you’d gone to see him in the first place.

The next week passed in a blur of classes and restless sleep. You carried the business card with you everywhere, tucked into your wallet, your phone case, once even taped to the inside of your notebook. You stared at the number a hundred times a day, your thumb hovering over the call button.

The conflict was a war inside your head. Call him. No, don't look desperate. But what if he forgets you? What if he finds another Omega?

Being an Omega meant constantly battling a sense of biological desperation, a need to be claimed, to be held, to be filled. But you had always prided yourself on your dignity. You didn't want to be the sad little Omega chasing after an Alpha who had already moved on.

But as the days turned into two weeks, the silence from Toji became deafening. It was confirmation, wasn't it? If he wanted you, he would have called. He had your number; the clinic had records. The silence was an answer.

He doesn't want me.

The realization settled in your chest like a heavy stone. It had all been a bluff. A performance. The "weekly arrangement" had been just dirty talk to make the breeding hotter.

But what if he’s just waiting for me? a traitorous voice whispered. What if he thinks you’re not interested because you haven’t called?

That thought terrified you more than the rejection—the possibility that you were missing your chance because you were playing games.

Finally, the anxiety broke you. You sat on your bed, heart hammering, and dialed the number.

Ring... ring... ring...

Voicemail. A generic, robotic greeting.

You tried again an hour later. Nothing.

The next day, you called three times. Devastation began to curdle in your stomach, sour and cold. He wasn't picking up. He was ignoring you.

Nobara watched you with worried eyes as you moped around the apartment, staring at your phone. "Stop torturing yourself," she said gently. "If he wanted to talk, he would answer."

"I know," you whispered. "I just... I need to know."

Weeks passed. The initial high of the encounter had faded into a dull, aching memory. The marks on your neck had turned yellow and then faded away, leaving your skin pale and unblemished again. You felt unmarked, unseen.

And then, the heat returned.

It hit you on a random Wednesday night like a freight train. One minute you were fine, watching a movie with Nobara; the next, a cold sweat broke out across your forehead, and your legs turned to jelly. The cramps started low in your belly, sharp and demanding.

"Oh god," you gasped, doubling over. "Not now. Please, not now."

Nobara was at your side instantly. "Is it...?"

"Yes," you gritted out. Your skin felt too tight, your body burning up from the inside. The slick was already starting, a humiliating wetness between your thighs that signaled your readiness to breed. It was worse than before, a relentless, throbbing need that made you want to scream.

You stumbled to your bedroom, fumbling for your phone. Your vision swam. You needed relief. You needed a knot. You needed him.

You didn't care about dignity anymore. You didn't care about looking desperate. You were dying.

With shaking fingers, you typed out the text.

Heat. feel like dying. need you.

You hit send and collapsed onto the bed, panting. Minutes ticked by, agonizingly slow. Maybe he blocked you. Maybe he changed his number.

Then, the screen lit up.

Clinic. Now.

Two words. A command. No warmth, no concern, just an order. It made you whine, a high, needy sound that tore from your throat. It was exactly what you needed.

"I have to go," you gasped, grabbing your jacket.

Nobara jumped up from the couch. "Hey, where are you going? You can't go out there like this!"

"He replied," you murmured, your eyes unfocused, slipping into the black dress you’d walked out in last time. "The clinic. I have to go."

"Wait!" Nobara called, but you were already out the door.

The night air was an assault on your senses. The city smells—exhaust, garbage, stale perfume—were overwhelming. You needed to get a cab, but the thought of getting into a small, enclosed space with a stranger... especially an Alpha or Beta stranger... was terrifying. If they smelled you, in this state, there was no telling what would happen. The news was full of stories of Omegas in heat getting assaulted by cab drivers who couldn't control their instincts.

You couldn't risk it. You had to walk.

It was a mistake. Every step was a battle. Your body felt heavy, liquid heat pooling in your core and dripping down your legs. The streetlights blurred into streaks of neon. Your breath came in ragged gasps.

Focus. Just get to the clinic. Toji is there. Toji will fix it.

You turned a corner, your vision swimming dangerously. The pavement seemed to tilt. Your foot caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and you went down, knees hitting the concrete hard.

You didn't even have the strength to cry out. You just lay there, panting, waiting for the darkness to take you.

Suddenly, strong arms caught you before you hit the ground completely.

"Whoa, easy there."

The voice was deep, but not the gravelly rasp you were expecting. It was smoother, younger.

You were pulled upright against a firm chest. And then, the scent hit you.

It was different from Toji’s scent. This one was crisp, like rain and ozone, with an undercurrent of something earthy and grounding. It was an Alpha scent, potent and powerful, but it didn't smell like danger. It smelled... kind.

You inhaled deeply, your instincts screaming at you to rub yourself all over him. The scent wrapped around you like a protective blanket, cutting through the fog of your heat just enough to clear your vision.

"Careful," the voice said. "Are you okay?"

You looked up, blinking rapidly. Standing over you was a young man. He looked to be about your age, maybe a little younger. He had black spiky hair that fell over his forehead, and the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen—sharp, intelligent, and filled with concern.

He was beautiful. And weirdly, his face reminded you of Toji. The jawline was similar, the shape of the eyes, but this man’s features were softer, less hardened by life.

"You shouldn't... walk around by yourself like this," he said, his voice tight. "It's dangerous. You're in heat."

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, trying to push yourself away. Your legs were trembling so badly you almost fell again. "I'm headed somewhere. I have to go."

You tried to step around him, but he reached out and grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm, hot, but not painful.

"Wait," he said.

You looked at him, and you saw it. The way his chest was heaving, the flush rising on his pale cheeks. He was affected. You didn't need to look down to know he was hard; you could smell the musk of his arousal mixing with the rain-scent of his pheromones. It was thick in the air between you.

But he wasn't attacking you. He was fighting it. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"Let me..." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Let me help."

Before you could ask what, he meant, he stepped closer. He was tall, taller than he looked from a distance, and he loomed over you, triggering that submissive instinct deep in your Omega hindbrain. You froze, tilting your head back instinctively, baring your throat.

He let out a shaky breath and leaned in. He didn't touch you sexually. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You gasped as you felt his nose brush against your scent gland. He inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of your distress, your heat, your need. Then, he rubbed his own neck against yours.

It was a scent mark. He was covering you in his smell.

The sensation was electric. His pheromones rushed into your system, potent and authoritative. They didn't spark the frantic, destructive lust that Toji’s did. Instead, they acted like a stabilizer. The pain in your lower belly receded, just a fraction. The blinding fog in your brain lifted, giving you clarity you hadn't had in an hour.

He rubbed his cheek against yours, his skin slightly rough with stubble, marking your face. Then he took your wrist and pressed it against his neck, letting his scent saturate your pulse points.

"That should suffice," he murmured, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Until your next destination."

He pulled back, his eyes darkened but still under control. He looked at you, his expression a mix of guilt and determination.

"Go," he said, his voice rougher now. "Before I can't let you."

You stared at him, stunned. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer. He just turned and walked away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his stride tense and hurried.

You stood there for a moment, the night air feeling significantly less hostile. The stranger’s scent was all over you—rain and ozone. It acted as a shield, a warning to other Alphas to back off. More importantly, it had given you the strength to move.

Your legs still felt weak, but the crushing desperation had dulled to a manageable ache. You could think. You could walk.

You looked in the direction the young man had gone, but he was already gone, swallowed by the city shadows.

"Toji," you whispered, the name bringing the urgency rushing back.

You straightened your shoulders, clutching the stranger's scent around you like a cloak, and started moving again. The clinic was only a few blocks away. You could make it.

The walk was still a struggle, but it was no longer a suicide mission. The Alpha’s scent masked your own enough that the people you passed didn't give you a second glance. The predatory glances you’d been drawing from the shadows seemed to dissipate.

You reached the clinic, the glass doors glowing like a beacon. You stumbled inside, the cool air washing over you.

Shoko looked up, surprised to see you. "Miss? Are you—"

You didn't wait for the question. You saw the door to the back suites, the restricted area. You didn't have an appointment, but you had a command.

Clinic. Now.

You pushed past the reception desk, ignoring Shoko’s startled protests, and moved down the hallway. Your heart pounded in sync with the ache between your legs. He was in the same suite as before—just as he’d promised. You could feel him. The pull of the Alpha who had ruined you, who owned you—even if he refused to admit it.

You stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall. The scent was unmistakable—cedarwood and smoke, thick and aggressive. Toji.

You raised a trembling hand, but the door swung open before you could touch it.

He stood there, shirtless, sweat glistening on his massive chest, looking like he had just stepped out of a fight. His eyes were black, feral, locked onto you instantly.

He smelled the other Alpha on you immediately.

His lip curled, a low growl rumbling in his chest that shook the floorboards.

"You reek," he snarled, reaching out to grab your arm and yank you inside. "Who the fuck touched you?"

The door slammed shut behind you.

The accusation hung in the air, heavier than the humid, pheromone-charged atmosphere of the private suite. Toji didn’t wait for an answer; he inhaled deeply, his chest expanding. He was close—too close. The heat radiating from his bare chest scorched you through the thin fabric of your dress.

You gulped, your throat clicking audibly in the quiet room. The scent of the stranger—the young Alpha who had helped you on the street—still clung to your neck, a faint, woodsy overlay that was currently being drowned out by the overwhelming cedar and smoke musk rolling off Toji in waves. "It’s not what you think it is," you stammered, your voice breathless and thin.

Toji took a step back, the movement slow and deliberate, like a predator circling wounded prey. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, the muscles in his arm shifting under the pale skin. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating through the floorboards. "Not what I think it is? Interesting." He tilted his head, the scar at the corner of his mouth pulling tight as his smirk widened. "What do I think?"

Your breath hitched. You could see the ridge of his erection straining against the waistband of his sweatpants, thick and insistent. By the looks of things, he was deep in rut, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, his scent aggressive and potent. He hadn’t touched anyone in weeks—the deprivation was written in the tense set of his shoulders and the way his eyes roved over your body like he wanted to devour you whole.

You were still in heat, the cramps in your lower belly twisting tighter with every second you spent in his presence. Slick was soaking your thighs, a wet, unbearable ache that pulsed in time with your heartbeat. You craved him. You needed him to fuck you right now, to bury himself inside you until you couldn't remember your own name.

"You tell me, sassy Alpha," you shot back, the defiance wavering as another wave of heat rolled over you.

Toji’s eyes darkened further. "You’re rather confident today." He took a step forward, eliminating the distance he had just created. He loomed over you, his presence suffocating in the best possible way. "Part of me is thrilled to fuck the attitude out of you in a bit."

He leaned down, his face inches from yours, your noses almost brushing. The smell of him—mint, tobacco, and raw, unfiltered Alpha musk—flooded your senses. Your knees buckled slightly, your body betraying you instantly. Slick gushed out of your pussy, wet and hot, coating your folds and soaking your panties.

Toji’s nostrils flared. He smelled it. He smelled the desperation, the readiness. "Yeah, little Omega," he breathed, his voice dropping to a gravelly growl that vibrated against your lips. "Being fucked into submission is what you need, right?"

His breath fanned over your face, hot and minty, so distinctly Toji. One of his large hands slammed against the wall beside your head, caging you in. He didn't touch you yet, just let the threat of his body weight press down on you.

"The other part of me," he murmured, his eyes tracing the line of your throat, "thinks you deserve a little punishment."

Suddenly, his hand shot out. He didn't grab you gently; he gripped your upper arm with bruising force, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. Before you could process the movement, he was hauling you across the room. The black dress you wore fluttered around your legs.

He sat on the edge of the massive bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and in one fluid motion, threw you over his lap. The world tilted. You gasped, your hands bracing against the plush bedding as your upper body hung down, your legs kicking slightly in the air. The dress rode up with the momentum, bunching around your waist and exposing the curve of your ass clad only in a flimsy pair of lace panties.

"Fuck, you’re so wet," Toji groaned from above you. His hand rested on the back of your thigh, dangerously close to your heat. "It’s really gushing out of you. I can smell it from here."

You whined, burying your face in the duvet. You could feel his bulge hardening beneath your stomach, a thick, rigid bar of heat that pressed against your abdomen. The friction was maddening. You ground your hips down instinctively, seeking relief, but Toji’s hand stilled you.

"Ah, ah," he tsked. "Not yet."

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down to your knees in one rough tug. The cool air hit your wet, heated skin, making you shiver. You were exposed, vulnerable, your ass in the air, dripping and ready.

Then, his hand came down.

Smack.

The sound was sharp, a loud crack that echoed off the walls. The sting followed a split second later—a raw, biting heat that bloomed across your right cheek.

You cried out, the sound half-moan, half-surprise. It hurt, but the pain shot straight to your clit, sending a jolt of electric pleasure through your veins.

"Hmm," Toji hummed, his voice dark with satisfaction. He rubbed the reddening skin, his palm rough and calloused. "I think I should go harder."

Smack.

The second slap landed on your left cheek, harder than the first. You jerked forward, your fingers clawing at the sheets. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. Your body reacted traitorously, producing even more slick, the fluid running down your thighs and coating Toji’s pants.

The room began to reek of you—the sweet, tart scent of Omega in distress and arousal, mixed with the heavy, spicy musk of an Alpha in rut claiming his prize. It was a suffocating, intoxicating cloud.

Toji didn't stop. He spanked you again, and again, a rhythmic, punishing cadence that left you gasping for air. Between strikes, he would pause to knead your cheeks, his fingers dipping into the crease of your ass, teasing your dripping hole but never pushing inside.

"Now tell me," he commanded, his voice rough. His hand squeezed your tender flesh, making you hiss. "Was he aroused?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. Why did he have to ask that? The image of the stranger—the young Alpha with Toji’s eyes—flashed in your mind. You remembered the flushed look on his face, the heavy breathing, the way his hands had trembled when he scented you, the smell of his arousal.

"Y-yes," you whispered, the admission torn from your throat.

Smack.

This one was brutal. You screamed, your back arching as the pain seared through you.

"You let him get close to you when you smelled like this?" Toji growled, his hand massaging the burning skin, soothing the sting even as his words cut deep. "You let another Alpha smell what belongs to me?"

"He helped me," you sobbed into the blankets, your voice muffled. "I collapsed... he just helped me up."

"And marked you," Toji snarled. "I can smell him on your neck. It makes me want to kill something."

He hauled you up then, flipping you over onto your back on the bed before you could catch your breath. He loomed over you, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. The black dress was bunched around your ribs; your panties still tangled around one ankle. You looked wrecked—flushed, tear-stained, your lips swollen from biting them, your legs splayed open in invitation.

Toji didn't bother undressing you further. He just shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick, angry, and weeping pre-cum. The sight of it made your mouth water.

"Legs up," he barked.

You scrambled to obey, hooking your hands behind your knees and pulling them back toward your chest, opening yourself completely to him. The position left you helpless, your pussy gaping and fluttering, clenching around nothing.

Toji leaned forward, bracing one hand next to your head. He guided his cock to your entrance, notching the thick head against your slick hole. He didn't push in immediately. He rubbed his length through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, mixing your scents together.

"Gonna fuck this attitude out of you," he grunted, staring down into your eyes. "Gonna stuff you so full you won't be able to walk straight. Gonna make sure every Alpha in a ten-mile radius knows who owns this pussy."

You whined, high and desperate. "Toji..."

He slammed in.

One deep, brutal thrust that buried him to the hilt. You cried out, your head falling back against the mattress as he stretched you wide, filling you more completely than anything else ever could. The burn was exquisite, a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that shattered your thoughts into fragments.

Toji didn't wait for you to adjust. He set a punishing rhythm immediately, withdrawing almost all the way before slamming back in, his hips slapping against your ass with wet, obscene sounds. The bed frame rattled violently, banging against the wall with every thrust.

"Fuck," he gritted out, his jaw clenched. "I missed your pussy."

He leaned down, burying his face in your neck. He inhaled deeply, his nose brushing the sensitive skin where the stranger had marked you. He opened his mouth and bit down, hard, sinking his teeth into the mating gland. You shrieked, your inner walls clamping down on him like a vice.

"Mine," he growled against your skin, his tongue laving over the bite mark to soothe the sting. "Say it."

"Yours," you sobbed, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him to you. "I’m yours, Toji!"

He fucked you harder, driving into you with a ferocity that bordered on violence. He was determined to overwrite the other Alpha’s scent, rubbing his own scent glands all over you—your neck, your chest, your face. He marked you with his sweat, his saliva, his musk.

"My little Omega," he panted into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Taking this cock so good. You gonna let me breed you? Gonna let me put a pup in this belly?"

Your mind was a haze of pleasure. The thought of being pregnant by him, of carrying his offspring, sent a dark, primal thrill through you. You didn’t need contraception. To hell with everything Nobara had said.

You reached down between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. You rubbed it frantically, chasing the release that was building low in your spine.

"Yes," you chanted, your voice broken. "Breed me, please... fill me up!"

Toji snarled, his hips snapping faster. The bed groaned under the assault. He grabbed your legs, pushing them up higher, folding you nearly in half as he drove into you deeper than ever before. The angle hit a spot inside you that made you see stars.

"That’s it," he rasped. "Come for me, baby. Come on my cock like a good girl."

The command sent you over the edge. Your back bowed, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy convulsed around him, rippling and squeezing, trying to milk him for everything he had.

Toji groaned, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. He thrust into you a few more times, hard and deep, before burying himself to the hilt and stilling.

"Take it," he roared, his body locking up.

You felt the hot rush of his cum spurting inside you, coating your walls, filling you up. He kept coming, rope after rope of thick seed, and that was when the knot began to swell. The base of his cock expanded, stretching your entrance even further, locking you together.

The pressure was intense, a feeling of fullness so extreme it bordered on pain, but you reveled in it. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close as he emptied himself into you. The room spun, the scent of your coupling overwhelming everything else.

You stayed like that for a long time, Toji’s weight heavy and comforting on top of you, his knot pulsing inside you, keeping his cum trapped deep within. Slowly, the ragged sound of your breathing began to even out.

Toji shifted, rolling you onto your sides so he wasn’t crushing you, being careful not to pull on the knot. He nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, tender kisses along the column of your throat. The aggression was gone, replaced by a strange, gentle intimacy that made your heart ache.

He brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, his calloused thumb tracing your cheekbone. His green eyes were soft, the darkness of the rut fading to reveal the man beneath.

"You okay?" he murmured, his voice husky.

You nodded, leaning into his touch. "Yeah."

He kissed you then, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of mint and desperation. It wasn't the rough, demanding kisses of before; it was searching, almost reverent. You melted into it, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. The question that had been burning inside you for weeks bubbled to the surface, fueled by the vulnerability of the moment.

"Why didn’t you pick up?" you asked quietly. "I called you so many times."

Toji sighed, resting his forehead against yours. He closed his eyes, looking exhausted. "Family business," he admitted. "I didn’t work these last few weeks. Had to go back to the estate. It was... complicated."

You blinked. You hadn’t expected an honest response. You had expected a deflection, or a dismissal. "I see," you whispered.

Toji opened his eyes, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Scared I found another Omega?"

"Very," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

Toji kissed your forehead, inhaling your scent. As he did, you felt his knot twitch inside you, releasing another small spurt of cum. The warmth spread through you, and you blushed, feeling the evidence of his possession deep in your belly.

"I’ve thought about you nonstop these last few weeks," he murmured, his eyes closing again as he pressed his forehead harder against yours. His hand came up to brush your cheek, his touch feather-light. "Driving me fucking crazy."

"Me too," you said, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

"That’s why you reeked of another Alpha," he said, a low rumble of laughter vibrating in his chest. "Couldn't wait for me, huh?"

"That’s why fucking other Omegas is your job," you shot back, your tone suddenly serious. The jealousy you had been suppressing flared up hot and bright. "I’m not the only one you’re thinking about, Toji."

Toji looked at you, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. He studied your face for a moment, as if seeing you in a new light.

"It pisses you off," he stated, a realization rather than a question.

"Of course it does," you snapped. "You’re inside me, tied to me, and I know you’re doing this with half the city."

Toji chuckled, the sound dark and arrogant. "Sorry, everybody wants a piece of this cake."

You shoved at his chest, trying to put distance between you, but the knot held you fast. "I want you to quit."

The words hung in the air, shocking in their clarity. You shouldn’t have said it. You knew you shouldn’t have. Toji hadn’t mated you yet. You weren’t officially matched. You had no claim to him. But the heat had loosened your tongue, and the heartache had sharpened your tongue.

Toji’s smile faded. He looked at you, his green eyes unreadable. "I-," he started, his voice low. "I want you to be my special Omega. You know that. You’re different."

He paused, his hand stroking your hip. "But I don’t think I can settle down like this. Not yet."

The rejection hit you like a bucket of ice water. Special Omega. Just a favorite toy. Not a mate. Not a partner.

You started to push him away, panic rising in your chest. You needed to get away from him, away from this room, away from the scent of him that was currently suffocating you.

"Release your knot," you demanded, your voice trembling.

"What?" Toji frowned, confused by the sudden shift in your demeanor.

"No way I am getting knocked up by an indecisive man," you said, your voice gaining strength as anger overtook the hurt. "I want you to pull out. Now."

Toji’s expression hardened, his jaw ticking. He was visibly annoyed, his Alpha instincts bristling at being denied during the tie. But he looked at your face, saw the tears welling in your eyes and the stubborn set of your chin, and he sighed.

"Fine," he gritted out. "If that’s what you want."

He closed his eyes, focusing. You felt his muscles tense beneath your hands. It took a moment of concentration, but slowly, the swelling at the base of his cock began to decrease. The pressure lessened, the stretching sensation receding until, with a wet, obscene sound, he slipped out of you.

A rush of fluids followed—his cum, your slick—spilling out onto the sheets beneath you.

You didn’t wait. You scrambled away from him, the sudden emptiness inside you aching. You slid off the bed, your legs shaky and weak. You grabbed the black dress from the floor where it had been discarded, no longer caring about whether it needed to be returned or if it was ruined. You pulled it on over your head, covering your naked, sticky skin.

"Hey, listen, don’t be like that," Toji started, sitting up. He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I’m just being realistic. We come from different worlds."

"I’m leaving," you muttered, clutching the dress to your chest. You held back tears, refusing to let him see you cry.

Toji got up, moving faster than you expected. He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not bruising. "Stop. Let’s talk about this."

"No," you said, not turning back. You stared at the door, the exit sign glowing red above it. "Goodbye."

You yanked your wrist free and walked out, leaving him standing there naked and half-hard in the middle of the room.

The hallway was quiet, the air cool and sterile—a sharp contrast to the heavy heat of the suite. Your heels clicked against the polished marble as you moved quickly past the reception desk, where Shoko was busy sorting through files.

Shoko looked up, her eyes widening as she took in your disheveled appearance—the wrinkled dress, the flushed skin, the distinct smell of Alpha rut and sex clinging to you like a second skin.

"Miss? Is everything alright? Do you need an—"

You didn’t acknowledge her. You kept walking, pushing through the glass front doors and out into the cool night air.

The night swallowed you whole, cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos still clawing at your senses. Each step carried you farther from the clinic, from him—but the pull hadn’t faded. It lingered, threaded through your veins, impossible to outrun.

You told yourself it was over. You clung to that certainty, let it settle into your bones like something solid, something final.

But your body betrayed you.

The memory of him, the mark he left, the way he had claimed you without ever saying the words—it all clung just as stubbornly as his scent. A reminder. A warning. A tether.

You tightened your arms around yourself as you disappeared into the empty street, your footsteps echoing into the dark.

Over.

That’s what you told yourself.

Even as something deep inside you knew better.

art creds: @yunonoai on 𝕏