Rosie

Oh.

Just those simple words were enough for your straining thighs to tremble with yet another sheeny geyser of syrupy slick. Lathering Toji’s bulky base with all sorts of velvety droplets that make him groan, flicking over a calloused thumb to tease your pussy into making an even bigger mess. 

“Oho?” He’s raising one brow, pressing on the perked button of your clit and making your head tumble back with a keen. Thumbing wet little writings of his name on it over n’ over, “Ya liked that, huh? The i-idea of me ngh makin’ a mark from the inside? Filthy giiirl, ‘course ya did.”

“M-me?” And you don’t know just how cockdrunken you are at this point to think that bickering with a sultry, taunting Toji would do any good. But, hey, he always did love a feisty woman. And the way your lower lip wobbles into a pout as you huff and puff makes his swollen cock stretch your muggy walls only wider, “You’re the one hah- m-measuring and- and talking about a bulge-”

“-and m’dead fucking serious.” Toji’s willowy eyes narrow, ravenous gaze hidden away by a curtain of long lashes and inky bangs. But you still feel your heart race at his utter intensity, “Lemme show ya, ma.”

He was serious - he is. 

In less than it takes your dewy pussylips to throb with a depraved ba-dump–! Toji’s clawing down one engulfing hand right onto the perspired crown of your head. Warm skin meeting your tizzy head harshly.

Snarling his sleazy grin up at you with a slight snicker, before flexing his mouth-watering biceps and pushing- “Stretch. F-fucking stretch now-”

“Fuh-fuuuck–” Your eyes leak steady rivulets of tears at the sheerly raw reach, the way he didn’t even have to try to swab milky gumdrops of pre at your innermost orifices. Fucking you open with just the gluey scour of his bawling tip trying urgently to fit inside, “Fuck me- fuck me, Toji–”

“S’what m’ ah- doing, silly girl.” Now, he’s rolling his eyes once your jiggling ass perches on the solidly full curve of his breeder balls and squirms. “So be my good fuckin’ girl and t-take it.”

And it’s all that you can do. 

Bowing your spine into the perfect semi-circle curvature to angle your hips even deeper. Jittery thighs gyrating against Toji’s toned obliques with every striking pap! he skids viciously against your goopy depths. It was maddening, and you’re finding yourself latching precariously onto his voluptuous deltoids to try and regain some semblance of balance - and your sanity.

Flinching slightly once he tilts your hips to let off a particularly harsh grind against that magical spot. You’re whimpering through deliriously crossed-eyes, “There- ah!”

“Yeahhh, fuckin’ knew it-” Comes the husky answer, mean. And then an even meaner set of pounds that batter and bruise your tenderest spots precisely with each minute motion. You feel Toji curl one massive palm on the delicious curve of your waist before leaning you back, back, back- “-can see it.”

See it?

“What-” You’re gasping once you angle your head just enough to sneak a few glimpses below at where Toji was feeding your pretty pussy with his veined girth. In and out. 

Because right then and there - etched exactly onto the middle of your tummy - was a cylindrical bulge. Pushing past your fleshed mounds n’ edges to carve out a deeply scouring indent. Spearheading into you with each soppy plap! of Toji’s glissading body. 

Long. Girthy. 

And you didn’t know if you were just that stupidly cockdrunken but you swear you could even count every single throb of Toji’s furiously hard cock meshing it’s way through your pried insides. 

He’s holding those rudely measuring fingers up once more, ranging from the slobbery ends of your slit all the way up to where you’re feeling his painfully hard shaft plant pretty pecks on your pussy. Eyes widening briefly, “Oh? S’even hngh- bigger than I predicted.”

Sloppy. Painting sloshing streams of precum and nudging you oh-so-full with his scorching length until you were sure you could feel his bloated circumference brand your rubbery cervix. Until you could almost taste his salted caramel with every blissful explosion on your tastebuds.

So much. Too much. “More. Want- need more–”

“Shhhh sh sh, that’s it- Cry your lil’  heart out, ma.” Toji’s humming out gutturally, free hand gliding upwards to smear away your spilling salivation. Nodding along with every sweet noise you make when his split-ended cock thrusts inside your hot core, “Thaaat’s it, that’s a good girl- Look at you all hck! stuffed until you’re about to explode. Cute.”

“Ngh- it- you’re so deep.” You’re mewling out, viscous globs of slick slipping and sliding down Toji’s length until your fattened clit coasts easily across those very same puddles. 

And you could feel him and every ballooned-up vein of his raking around your gummy walls. You could feel the bumpy outline of him bludgeoning past your saturated folds. 

“Yeahhh, s’a biiig fuckin’ s-stretch, isn’t it?” He’s gruffing out with a few playful spanks to your drooling pussylips, as if you weren’t already being fucked dumb. Instantaneously guiding your hand to caress the rollercoaster messing up your insides - reclining right over the contour of where his globular tip plummets into your g-spot with a thunk! 

“Here’s where ya won’t stop ah- drooling.” He twiddles your sensory fingertips to brush against your sensitive folds, showering in a generous heap of your sappy juices. “Like a f-fuckin’ ocean, I swear.”

Before lugging your boneless limb up, up, up- “-and here’s th-that hngh- cute spot ya love so much-” Pressing down over a certain delicate spot near your abdomen. And as if to prove his point, Toji’s quirking one brow and smashing his puffy tip hard in a dewy French kiss with your g-spot. Blissful. “And here- ohhh, here–”

He sounded so gone at this point. Rough. Cracking. You swear you catch a fleeting glimpse of his pearly whites watering with saliva, drooling as he hikes your hand about halfway up your tummy. 

Wedging pressure right above an invisible line on your tummy. Where his stuttering hips were forced into halting, crownhead drenching the awaiting door to your womb with soppy molasses. 

Toji’s mutters sound painfully close to a plea - to a whine. “H-heh, this is where ya better ngh- hope yer on fuckin’ birth control after this, ma.”

“...”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Capital B.D.E.

Effortless. 

It was effortless how every sensual scrape of Nanami’s veined shaft had you seeing stars behind your shuttered eyes. Prying apart your gluey lips with a single daubing swipe of his plump, ruby-red tip; your cute cunt was practically crying all around his hefty girth.

“M-mooore- oh-” Your legs are ever-tightening around his dewy skin, surely slipping n’ sliding haphazardly if it wasn’t for the beefy arm pinning them behind Nanami’s slender hips. “Kento- I want…”

“Shhh. I know I know, my love.” He’s hushing away the pearly tears spilling over from the corners of your crossed eyes, the fat pad of his thumb collecting all the salty droplets and plugging it into your lolling mouth for you to suck. “But a-any more n’ this pretty girl right here’s gonna ngh-”

Break.

Both your needy cunt and your dear husband’s sanity, in fact.

Because saying that Nanami Kento was massive would be the understatement of the century - all long, proud ten inches. Twitching and leaking, sinking in such a sultry tempo past your tight, tight ring of muscle. 

Desperately, your adhesive-like walls cling onto his throbbing length with not one, not two, but three barely-there squeezes. Spraying his scorching hot cock with a gleaming lather of slick, your heart races when you realize that he hasn’t even fully bottomed-out yet.

“I can t-take it, Ken–” You’re insisting with a cutely jutted-out lip that you already know he’s ruined for. His biggest weakness. And that cockdrunk little expression on your face makes him groan, “-give it all t’me, please?”

Nanami can’t say a word.

Can’t do anything but let his pretty amber eyes glaze over with something…feral. Oh, he was going to ruin you.

Tawny strands of his bangs stick to his perspired forehead and disarray into a brief curtain over his deep stare, and you’re catching the way that Nanami’s lower lip quivers.

Wordlessly, he’s smearing two greedy palms underneath your thighs. They were so jittery in his grasp, being manhandled easily over the delicious curvature of Nanami’s broad shoulders. 

“Ken- oh!” Every single ounce of breath lodged in your chest leaves you instantly in a murky gasp when he snaps his huling body in half and bends you down, down, down. Folding you into the most pliable mating press that leaves your under-thighs burning, and your head spinning.

“Deep breaths-” He’s drawing an invisible line over your womb, where he’d measured he’d be thumping soon. Whispering, “Deep breaths, darling. Deep breaths- gotta it like a good girl. Take e-every inch–”

With one sharp smack! he’s bottoming out to hit the split-ended tip of his mushroomy cockhead against your deepest depths. Streaking down a buttery stream of possessive pre that splashes around your sponged cervix. 

And that’s when Nanami’s doughy, latched-on fingerpads shake right on your velvety skin, Herculean body feverishly hot, lowly rasping gruffs leaving him in billowing gusts that fan your face. He was gone. That’s when he mutters, “Oh.”

Then - only then - do you realize that your lovely husband isn’t even looking at you. Heavily lidded eyes locked somewhere down in the hidden-away depths where his washboard abs were glissading against your front with every resounding pap! pap! pap! 

“I…I can see it.” Nanami spits out and it sounds more like a growl. Hoarse. Broken. A warmly engulfing hand caresses your tummy - softly, softly. Before he’s flicking a thick thumb to nudge that lewd cylindrical bump and push- 

Faster. Faster. Eyes never once looking away as if he was hypnotized by now. And he was - honestly, you’re wondering whether Nanami thinks he’s dreaming when he clasps your trembly hand to plant a pretty peck against your wedding ring. “I can- I can see it. Can see m’self inside ya- Fuck- what a slutty girl ya are, my love.”

Nanami Kento never stuttered.

Blinking away the sticky lacquer of tears on your lashes to see that your pussy was bloated - filled to the brim with so many numerous inches of Nanami’s ballooned cock that you’re seeing him swell against your tummy. Your eyes widen at the perfect curvature of his globed head leaving wet smooch after smooch on every hidden nook n’ cranny.

Fuck. 

Nanami was so big that he was making you bulge. 

“D-didn’t even know that could- didn’t even-” In hurried, jerky motions, he’s pushing up his condensely fogged-up glasses even higher. Long lashes fluttering as he takes in the lecherous outline again. And again and again and again- “Shit- shit, darlin’. Hold on, I can’t- fuck s’making me lose…composure.”

It was doing so much more than that.

It’s like something in the ever-stoic Nanami had shattered into a zillion pieces. 

Bustling you higher and higher up the springy mattress with each and every unapologetically battering ram. You swear you hear your joints pop! He’s mazing into your sweetest spots, leaving wet dashes of pre cum topping soppy orifices that you didn’t even know existed. 

Harder. Still pushing down for that bulge of his cock messing up your insides. 

Before you can even blink, he’s locking your bouncing ankles together with a single hand behind his head. Making you ogle at the rawly tight grip printing onto your skin, and the way that Nanami’s big, shimmery biceps flex. 

God- you blame the way he looks so unintentionally sexy for the way your stomach twists with your incoming orgasm. And the way your cockdrunken mouth slops open stupidly to utter, “More. Rougher, Kento.”

Nanami’s glassy eyes snap open- you were going to be the death of him. “R-rougher?”

SLAM!

The bed sings off a few splintered creaks! when Nanami strikes his freely open palm against the mahogany headboard and thrashes his teary, rotund tip against your most favorite g-spot - and so do you.

“Shit- shit shit shit-” You’re shrieking out in a waveringly shrill tone, a glowy trickle of saliva spilling from the loosened sides of your maw once you’re throwing your head back and cumming. And it hits you by surprise almost as it does your pulsing pussy. “-mpfh- c-cumming, Ken—”

Your fingers rover their way to scratch at Nanami’s attractive blond undercut, as he fucks you through every white-hot spark of pleasure. So many. 

And he’s skimming his own back over that sexy bulge, feeling the way the peaks of your bliss only make his cock thud your goopy core harder-

“S-sooo pretty when you’re full n’ dumb on my hah- cock, my love.” He’s husking down at the sinful outline still pumping underneath your tummy, and it takes you a few sloppy seconds to realize that this is your Kento. Your sweet Kento - eyes crazed, lips snarled, blushing tip splitting you open when he only gets bigger. Animalistic. “But you’ll be even prettier n’ fuller as a mama, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Earned it!

“Suguru- b-bulge—”

“Oh? Wha’s that?” Geto’s hot breath wafts right along with his heady cologne when he inches in just a bit closer to your tender ear. Sultry snickers clouding your brain, he dips his thumb gently up and down the base of your cunt. “Can’t hear ya over this talkative pussy, gorgeous. Speak up.”

And you couldn’t even if you wanted to - your loosely-hanging mouth flooded with fresh waves of mindless saliva, Geto’s own thick fingers prying your maw firmly shut. He was having such fun listening to the pretty noises still spilling stupidly from between his digits. 

“Ngh-” You’re blabbering away, hips still bouncing on and on in his favorite reverse cowgirl. “Th-the bul- ah-”

“Th-th-the what?” Geto rolls his amethyst eyes, irises positively filling up with hearts at the way your ass was jiggling haplessly down onto his toned abs. Not that he’d admit it, of course. Each plap! of skin-on-skin making his unfairly attractive leer widen, “Don’t make me say it again. Honestly- s’this needy cunt the only thing you can hah- speak out of?”

And maybe it was the way that he’s leaning even further backwards to watch you - maybe it was the way that he’s letting his slender hips tilt just right to scrape a deep indent down your plush g-spot. 

But it makes you halfway scream, “Bulge! Th-the bulge, Suguru–!”

Bulge? Bulge?

The only answer he’s letting off is one-too-many whopping thrashes of his plummy, mushroom head that ravenously scour open your slick-flooded walls and kiss right at the target of your womb. The runny patterns of his inflated veins scraping your sweetest spots. Again. And again. And again. 

Honestly. He’s grabbing both your arms behind your back to pound into you until your mouth runs over like a fountain. Dark brows raising at the way you’re still drivelling on and on about some b-bulge-

“Did I fuck ya hngh! stupid already or what?” The way his drawling words are seeped with such greedy rasps make your spraying cunt gush even more. With a low tut, he’s manhandling your glissading bodies until you’re facing that floor-length mirror specifically installed in front of your bed. Taking in every inch of that heavenly sight before him, “Now now, what’s got you so-”

And then, for the first time ever in his life, Geto Suguru’s breath hitches. 

Eyes widening, cerise, spit-glossed mouth parting - fuck, if he was any lesser man then he might just have been too dazed to stop from sinking his teeth into his lips and letting off a strained whimper. 

Because right there about halfway down your pretty tummy - inches n’ solid inches about where he was drilling his swollen cock between your leaking slit - there was a bulge. 

A puffy cylindrical outline that glues apart your saturated folds, bumps and grinds with every one of his ragged pounds. Big and true to what you’d been prattling nonsense about - was still prattling about. And Geto swears he could almost see the split-second his rounded, strawberry-pink tip hits your magical spots with a thundering squelch!

“O-oh.” He’s breathing out, sculptured muscles flinching when his entire towering body wracks with a shudder. And it’s as if on autopilot - as if he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing - when Geto traps the column of your neck into a rough headlock from behind. “You really are…filthy, girl. What a cuuute cock bulge.”

You’re practically plastered against Geto’s muscled front now, head lolling drunkenly back against his cushy pecs. Spine bowed the perfect semi-circle, “Can- can feel you so ngh- deep inside, Suguru.”

“W-well–” Geto’s groaning, as heaving and roughened as if he’d forgotten exactly how to speak. And he’s not that mean - rewarding you with a weighty wad of spittle right onto your bumpy tastebuds, “-I can see m’self all deep inside.”

And he could. And seeing it only made his penetrating stare cloud with even more absolute arousal. 

Fuck- Geto couldn’t believe his eyes. He couldn’t look away. Oh, the things he could do…

Couldn’t do anything but outspread the curved rests of his kneecaps even wider across those damp, silken sheets. Angling his hips to hit the gooey bottom of your cunt with a few scorching hot spatters of pre, bloated balls hitting the dripping edge of your pussy with such cutely noisy thwacks!

You can feel the gentle mountains of his palm splay out over that particularly cylindrical outline, pressing down until you thought you were about to burst. 

Bottomed-out - but now it’s like Geto was crazed. Pushing and pushing even when his bulky base hits your puffed-up lips in an innocent peck. Cobwebbed walls molding around his heated cock furiously-

“Now that you can h-heh- see…” Geto sighs out the words in a deep reverie, and yet the only thing deeper was the way that he’s rummaging your insides. Each stroke accompanied by a lazy drag of his veined shaft round n’ round your pussy. “How’d you want me to fuck you- like this?”

With a wet spank right on the dewiest spot of your cunt, he’s straightening his spine before you can string together an answer. 

And you’re fully at his mercy. Held up with one big, beefy forearm curled around your throat to manhandle your vision back, “Or like this- ohh look, gorgeous, m’reachin’ even deeper now. Your bulge got even bigger- Orr–”

Your vision tinges briefly with black when Geto pulls out with a swift fwop! Making the disappointed whine barely formulate on your lips before he flips you over onto your back and buries himself until you feel like you’re split-apart-

“-or this?” You’re hearing from somewhere above you, and if you were any less mindlessly fucked then maybe you’d have realized the mean mating press that he’d folded you into. Dredging a palm ‘round that bloated bulge of his cock still there, “Because we have alllll night to figure out which position takes me the- hngh- deepest.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - #EMO BOY

Choso looked so pretty like this - eyeliner smudging with every beaded tear slipping from his half-lidded eyes, his silvery split-slicked lips hanging open, dazed gaze never straying from your gorgeous face. 

Well, your gorgeous face and the sight of those knotted masses of creamy white gushing like a fountain from between your thighs. Making Choso’s red-tipped cock slip n’ slide with every splash of ribbony cum leaking from your cunt. 

Such a mess. But he’s gotta make more space, right?

“P-pretty giiiirl.” He’s giggling - giggling - at the curvaceous bulge outlining on your tummy. A delicate trickle of saliva sneaking its way down from the ends of his curled smirk at the bump, “P-prettiest girl in the entire world, baby. Got the prettiest lil’ pussy, too–”

He always got so greedy whenever he stole a sneaky look at where your tummy was filled to the brim with all of him. Where he could stare at himself.

Depraved. 

You’re fluttering your lashes, never getting used to the way your sweet boyfriend could fuck you into the soft mattress until you felt shy. And the way he pumps out a few throbbing inches of his lustrous cock to leave three smack! smack! smacks! on your bawling pussy makes you whine. “Such a sweet-talker- ngh, Cho.”

Oh, but Choso Kamo wasn’t just sweet-talking you. He was dead serious. 

Plumpened lips wobbling at the way you would even suggest such a thing, your breath hitches when Choso dexterously curls numerous slender digits around his hefty hilt to drag his fat cock up n’ down your clingy lips. Up and down up and down-

Right with the perfect aim to kiss the hooded tip of your pulsing clit with repeated smooches of his icy Prince Albert’s piercing. Only making you gush even more torrentials. Choso was filthy.

“M’s-serious—” He’s panting out a few heady whimpers, chest rumbling with a low ngh! after every stinging smack. It was driving the both of you completely mad. “Prettiest girl e-ever with my ngh- cock makin’ a mess of you a-and–” Your heart races at just how much he was babbling right now, cheeks burning brightly blossoming red. “-and that tummy bulge. Fuck- fuck jus’ looking at ya is gonna make me cum.”

“Ah- Choso–” You’re squealing once he pumps you viciously full again, tight curvature of his thoroughly full ballsack hitting your cunt with a sharp spank! 

And that wasn’t all - oh, Choso was addicted to you- you really think that would be enough? 

No, in the matter of mere nanoseconds, he’s rolling your gyrating bodies over until you’re straddling his slenderly toned hips. Thighs digging onto either side of his smooth mounds of flesh when Choso latches a needy hand onto your waist and pulls-

“Shit- shit.” He feels himself getting oh-so-dizzy, chestnut locks splaying out like a halo all over the comfy pillowcase. Through long, dark lashes he’s gazing up at you with such sticky adoration, syllables lilting octaves upon octaves higher and choking. “Ride me. P-please ride me s-so I can take my time ngh- admirin’ you.”

You’re riding him and Choso doesn’t think he ever wants you to stop.

The stretch is so massively wide that it takes you a few seconds to finally catch your breath, eager hips slipping n’ stumbling with the help of gravity to swallow up every long and girthy inch he could give. It was such a wonder he could even manage the words out - what with the way your gushing walls were milking him till Choso felt his heart stutter. “Mmm– so inflated w-with my cum n’ that big fucking cock, right? Right?”

Mewling, “Y-yess–”

Rock-hard length heating up a few degrees more sweltering, he swears he can pinpoint the exact millisecond he spots that outlined protrusion and twitches. Letting off the barest whimper, “F-fuuuck I-I can still see it-”

“Mhm–?” You’re humming out, fussing on your lower lip like a gummy to keep the breaking tremor from entering your voice already. You already knew how it drove him wild when you graze a few fingertips over the knobbly end of his mushroomed tip probing at your tummy. “You mean- this? C-can’t help that you’re so- ngh- big, baby.”

“No- no no no- fuck!” He’s gurgling out wetly, stubbly silver of his piercing scratching such a deeply parched itch at your geysering g-spot. “Don’t…don’t touch ah- it like that, baby– s’gonna make me…cum.”

And he wants to swat your hands away - he wants to. But the only thing that he can manage to do is cover your fingers with his much-longer ones, practically drowning in his needy touch when he pins your hands to that contoured bump and presses down.

Lacing his fingers with your own, Choso can’t believe that that was what had his ears ringing with a carmine-tinted blush. 

The forecast was wet - and Choso was sure to keep it that way. Hooking one doughy pad of his digits to bully your bloated folds open and let trickling rivulets of cum weep out. They puddle out in buttery splotches on his flexing abs, rippling with every meeting drive up to meet your perfect tempo. 

Glazing and flowing off the sides of his body and into the drenched mattress, “And- and I dunno if anymore will hck! fit inside your cute cunt if I cum again.”

He sounded so adorably genuinely worried, button nose crinkling at the way a few more globs of seed hit his drenched tufts of dark brown with every stripe of his piercing drawn on your inne spots. But Choso still couldn’t take his eyes away from you - couldn’t take his eyes away from where he could see himself-

“S’alright, Cho–” Your hips jerk in sensual motions, still never faltering after each plap! Never slowing down even when Choso hoists his cottony head closer to make you grace his lolling tongue with a nice stream of saliva, “Give it a-all. Give it all t’me.” 

“Th-then take it-” He’s snarling, and your body breaks out in a severe bout of goosebumps as the air stiffens and the lined tattoo on Choso’s face elongates. “Milk me- hngh- m-milk me, pretty baby, ‘ntil you’re s-so full you can’t think…”

When he cums it’s with his digits pressing powerful pressure down onto yours, groping and adoring where he was spurting out wiry ribbons of sloshing seed. That bulge. Adding to the mess of your sloppy pussylips painting little rings around his thickened base.

Once more. Twice more. Until you were a dripping wet mess. Fuck- at this point he’s registering the crackling work of his own cursed technique running into overdrive. Blood manipulation only making his aching cock harder and harder-

“Fuck- I love you.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - “Just the tip.”

“Or, well…” It was almost infuriating just how much Sukuna didn’t even have to try to make your needy pussy even needier. Merely wafting off a sleazy smirk, “-tips.”

“B-both?” Your arms weakly dangle onto his luxurious royal throne, lips pouting just the way it did when you got extra extra needy for him. And, damn, was that true tonight.

A hallowing spank right on the fleshy nub of your clit, “Yeah- fuckin’ both. Gonna stretch this pretty lil’ hngh- pussy out ‘till she’s stupid.”

You’re practically draped over his solid, sculptured body - eager hands palming at his rippling abs, head buried into the cushy valley between his pecs. His musky scent takes over your senses and makes your cunt twitch.

Every blabber spilling from your maw only lets the king know just how much more cockdrunk you’re getting with each passing second. Toying a few elongated nails over your hardened nipples as you’re heaving out an adorable, “Kuna- don’t know if s’gonna ah! fit- Gonna be ‘nough-”

He seethes, “Not gonna fit?”

And all you can manage to do is shake your head stupidly, shivers sliding down your spine at the feral intensity of his deep stare upon you. “N-no?”

“Tch-” Sukuna’s drawling in a primally smug tone of voice, and something about it already had your perked ass shivering downwards in repeated sensual grinds. Rolling his devilishly crimson irises with such sass, they’re matching the exact tempo he swirls his second, stacked divot around and around your tight entrance, “-my deepest apologies s’not ‘nough’, spoiled brat, but when I say m’gonna make it fit-” 

Oh.

With a sappy pop! he’s feeding you the fatly rounded curve of one more cock - neverendingly big, it felt like. And you couldn’t get enough. No matter how much it felt like he was ruining you from the inside out. 

“-I fucking mean it.”

Topping his mushroomed crowns with a quick lather of your flooding slick, he wastes absolutely no time bouncing two powerful knees to jerk your hips in a sloppy cadence. So hot and needy around him that Sukuna can’t help but slip his twin hard cocks just a bit past the tip-

“See?” Sukuna jerks his head to rest on top of one palm, tilting away mere degrees that would let him admire all of you. Well- not that he’d tell his puny human so. “Taking it like s-such a ngh- good girl– take a few more inches like I know that filthy cunt wants to. She’s like a damn waterpark.”

“More?” Your cries are shrill, pure anticipation and need cracking your words when two big, beefy arms latch around the fleshy mounds of your ass to push. “Shit- shit, s-so biiiig- Kuna-”

“Stop talking outta ya pussy, silly girl-” He’s gritting his teeth at the clingy resistance, lavish second tongue open with want to plant a few pretty pecks on your plump clit. Letting your knees weaken, “S’only gonna make me bigger. Good luck.”

And he wasn’t lying.

Oh, no. Your leaden lids snap open once you’re feeling the probing throb of his ballooned-up shafts pry your gluey falls further and future open like his own personal puzzle, only getting hotter. Harder. Bludgeoning through your gluey walls and leaving cratering indents of his proud circumferences on your pulpy g-spot. 

You’re arching your spine into such a delicious curvature when your thunderous orgasm looms ever-closer. Trekking your palms onto his toned deltoids with a yelp-

“Oioi- where’d ya think you’re hah- runnin’ off to?” Gifting a thorough spank on the side of your plapping ass, and a hand clawing the crown of your head to push you down. Unable to escape. Sukuna couldn’t believe the way that only made you more drenched. Practically sobbing all over his lap, dirty girl. “Yeah. Yeah. Big fuckin’ cocks, heh- aren’t they, ma?”

With the barest head tilt, he can already spot a few inches more to go until he was really sunken into your warm depths. Careening up a hand to measure with two fat fingers - one steady at the base of your teary silt, the other stretching wider and wider - just to show off how far he’d be rummaging inside you-

Only to find out that- oh. He doesn’t need to measure with his fingers after all. 

Because sitting all prettily right then and there was such a lecherous bulge. 

A proud inflation about halfway down your tummy where he was padding on a sultry outline of his bulging cocks. Stretching out your stinging pussy flaps, where he was disappearing in sappy thrusts, way past that- So big that he could count every fat thud into the syrupy orifices of your cunt from the outside.

“C-curses.” Sukuna whimpers - whimpers. 

And the utter shock of it is so great that you find your dazed gaze tumbling downwards to where he was staring intently. Toes curling at the heavenly sight of him - making an indented bulge from all the way inside. “Fuck- Kuna…more.”

“M-more?” He’s whispering, narrowed eyes widening just a fraction at your words. And he’s looking and looking at you as if he can’t look away. Crazed. Depraved. “More? When ya complained about th-that?”

Of-fucking-course, Sukuna’s gonna fucking give you more.

And he’s gonna make you cum while he’s at it, too. Needing only a singular, vulgar stroke to stuff himself snugly between your glutinous walls until you swear you could feel his stacked shafts smooching your lungs. Finally bottoming out.

The stretch so tight - so maddening - and that bumped bulge at your tummy so much worse. 

You simply can’t help but collapse your shivering body down into his ready embrace, sinking the fringes of your teeth into your bottom lip when you throw your head back and reach your high. Finally. 

Making such a filthy mess. Torrenting out a fountain of sheen that glimmers Sukuna’s muscled body until he was glistening in the dimmed lighting of the throne room. Until it pools at your knees and all over the luxurious cushion. 

God- you think you’re seeing fractals explode all being your drunkenly shuttered lids. Bursting to and fro with every swipe of his leftly curved cockhead raking translucent streaks of precum along your cervix. 

Every swashing smack of the gummy end of his tongue stretching past your pursed pussylips and lapping ounces upon ounces of your webbed juices. Your- fuck, it finally hits you, did you squirt?

With an abashed huff, you’re blinking your eyes just a crack open - but Sukuna didn’t complain. Quite the opposite, in fact. “Wanna find out if y’can heh- ride my tongue, too, brat.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Bottoms out- up?!

“W-woah.”

And it wasn’t like any other of Ino’s usual moans - no. Right now, he sounded as if he was reverent. Lilting baritone straining away into nothing but a whisper, nothing but a prayer. 

You could barely even hear it over the saturated squelch! of his hips finally bottoming out. Reeling back mere centimeters to bully back through your folds with a gluey snog. Decorating your sobbing entrance with a few wadded jets of precum once. Twice. “Woah—”

You’re cracking your weightily-lidded gaze open, boring up at Ino’s crinkled sepia brows with a coo. Tugging through the stray flecks of chestnut strands plastered to his perspired forehead, “Something wrong, Taku?”

And he can only shake his head. Furiously. 

Words still a ball of lead in his throat - even more so when you’re staring deeply into his heart-shaped irises like that.

“I-I just-” Various strings of glistering drool detach when he throws his head back and lets off a husky groan. Eyes crinkling with something that looks like oh-so-feral pain, he’s resting his weight onto yours. Collapsing. Head tucking between your jiggling tits, “-just that- mommy- fuck! Pretty, m’makin’ you h-have a…” 

Shit, he couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

Couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than latch his eyes down towards where he could see that…bulge once more. Fuck, Ino was going to cum just from the sight of it.

“What do you…oh.” Oh, was right - was just about the only syllable accumulating on your lolling pinkish tongue. Right along with a freshly slicking wave of saliva at the way that Ino’s fattened cock was making your tummy bulge - a thick, cylindrical knot bumping up n’ down every time he was battering you with repeated rams. “Y-you’re so pretty, Taku.”

The blush that dusts his handsome cheeks is adorable, and you can feel him pump your cushy walls full with copious parching webs of needy pre. It’s like he was bawling inside of you. “Is…is this really me?”

Speaking to himself more than you at this point.

And it’s as if Ino’s in a trance - fully drunken on your pussy. Those mahogany eyes of his glaze over with a thick film of arousal, movements slow and sensual as he cranes inches down to give the sweltering skin near your extra-bumped tummy a lingering peck.

“H-hellooo, sweetness.” Murked pants tumbling out one after the other, and breezing over your papping mounds of flesh heatedly. After each and every pound. “-s’this me? Am- am I the one giving you this cute ngh- belly bulge? Tell me- tell me, please-”

So impatient, so wild for you that he can’t even wait until you’re gathering all your leftover breaths to formulate a coherent sentence. 

He’s rovering over one hand to tap at the buttony nub of your plumped clit, rolling in syrupy hearts that drive you breathless. “M’beggin’, pretty. T-tell me how Taku here’s making you feel with his ngh- cock, hm?”

“Love it- love it- ngh!” You’re hiccuping through thickly viscous bouts of tears that warm your skin. Lapped up eagerly by a loving Ino, watching you with wide stricken eyes. “Love how you’re in so deep s’makin’ me haaaah- have a tummy b-bulge.”

Ah, music to Ino’s ears. 

You’re pinned to the springing bedcoils by all of his lean muscle, meaty thighs shifting over yours to jostle your wrangle thighs even wider. Washboard as maddaging your front, fuck- he can’t stop himself from pressing his weight down even harder to feel the bludgeoning back and forth of his long shaft. 

“Can- can feel myself in there so deeeep–” Words shaky and tinging on a whine, you’ve never ever seen Ino this flustered. This sloppy with every shovelling inch - he’s barely even pulling out, just pressing rapid, tight pushes of his rounded ruby tip against your elastic cervix. Like he couldn’t even bear thrusting back. “-so h-heh…big. M’gonna ruin this cute cunt, sweetness. She’s never gonna forget me.”

Oh, and when Ino promises you something then it’s as good as done.

Because right now you can feel your sanity cracking bit-by-bit, a slow treacling spring of spittle making its way from your helplessly flapping mouth. Even more so when he unabashedly nuzzles closer to your mouth and spits.

You pant, “Fuck- fucking me s-so good. Keep going, baby, keep going–”

He was always so weak to the way you’d call him baby in that sweetly honeyed voice of yours. “S-say that again n’ m’gonna…”

A hand of yours glides down to give his tensed abs a smooth caress, and he flinches at the rays of bliss that bolt like lightning down his curved spine. Melding into pure euphoria when you drag one of his splayed-out hands to rest on your body - more specifically the bloated bump he was fucking into you. “Mhm– better not miss, Taku. Want it to make an even ah- bigger bulge.”

“Oh.” Heart beat stuttering to the very same ba-dump as his aching pink tip was, sobbing out in wet spatters that stream from the very geyser in the middle. He’s in love. “C-can we…hold hngh! hands when I cum, pretty?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - X-RAY.

“-extrasensory p-perception by my Six Eyes that shows all that cursed energy n’ beyond anything anyone else could see, so, I can see that-” Gojo’s cutting his own pussydrunken babbling off with a lazy scrape of his ruddied cockhead down your buttery-sheened walls. “-I’ll show up riiiight here.”

Oh, and true to the strongest’s words you’re blinking through your nth orgasm of the night to glimpse at the bloated tip of his furious cockhead, caving a lecherous indent right then n’ there on your tummy. A bulge.

And you swear that Gojo has never looked more smug, “Mhm— there. Fuck- right there. Don’t even need this cute lil’ ngh- belly bulge ta know m’fucking you proper, sweetheart. But I wanna show off for my pretty girl, heh.”

He’s insatiable. 

Rubbing the thickened pad of his thumb over that pre-topped mushroom crownhead of his. Leaving repeated sappy kisses down your targeted magical spots - every single one that he doesn’t even have to try to swab a sultry circle down. 

“S-such a freak, Toru—” You’re finding yourself whining - so much more breathless than you’d have liked but what can you do when he’s pinning you to the bouncy mattress with battering rams. Your poor pussy practically leaking,  “-y-you probably know when m’gonna cum, too.”

And, you were prattling off any snappy syllable you could string together. Really. You weren’t serious. 

But when Gojo arches one immaculately cloudy brow, skidding a sticky thud thud thud of his ballooned strawberry divot right into your sweetest spot, you already know you’re fucked. 

Shit.

Completely and utterly soon-to-be ruined when he’s wrenching out a streaming spray of sappy slick from right between your thighs. Rendering your orgasm building up desperately with only numerous indecent strokes, “Oh, you thought that was a haaah- joke?”

It’s all you can do to blubber through, knees weakening with disbelief. “I-I…”

“The st-strongest fucked you hngh! stupid already, huh?” Lapis lazuli irises rolling- fuck, he had to hide the way your gummy walls made his eyes slide to the back of his lids some what or the other. Slender fingers buzzing with a tinge of cursed energy when he swipes over your clit and taps. “Already know this turns ya on, filthy girl.”

You’re squirming helplessly on the bed, your gooey thighs cracking further and further open with every cute lil’ heart he’s painting on that pulpy nub. “Th-that’s just cheating…”

But Gojo Satoru wasn’t done.

“And I knooooow—” God, if he didn’t have his meaty thighs pressed up against yours - reeling back n’ forth to pump your velvety walls all full of his veined, girthy inches - then you swear he would’ve been kicking his feet. Sing-song baritone cracking with a crazed giggle, “-oh, sweetheart, you h-have no idea what I know.”

Did you even want to know at this point?

Roughened groans only growing more ragged, sloppy strikes prying open your glutinous walls even wider. Until your bawling folds were puffy and raw with every peaking massage of his inflated veins. 

Until he’s letting off two straight thwacks! of his mountained fingertips right where he’s tunneling past your sappy entrance and molding out an addictive tummy bulge. 

“I know you’re oh-so-close right now- ngh-” He’s drawling, inching over to nip his teeth dangerously down the urgent throb of your pulse. Huffing and puffing breath as hot as his flushed body was right now. Rumbling purrs tremoring down your curved spine, “That it makes this cute ah! cunt f-fucking horny when I doooo– this.”

Making you gasp with a bulky bash of Gojo’s rounded tip against your g-spot, probing a little crater deeply into your sponged depths. Before silking out a stringy bout of pre and dragging a loooong line up to your cervix. 

Again. And again. And again and again-

“N’ right here-” Daubing over his favorite outlined bulge, “S’where m’ruinin’ this tight pussy with a hck! biiig stretch- and here-” From the hazy hinges of your eyes you’re catching his own adorn with stray bolts of lighting. With stray strands of insanity. Leering grin growing ever-wider and wider, he draws an invisible line over where his rock-hard cock was hammering the very door to your womb. “-s’gonna be where I make- make you my c-cumdump. Hehhhh, yeah- can see it a-already.”

Your hips jerk off of the cottony sheets, now puddled with your geysering slick and sweat. Perching your legs even higher upon his naked waist, your heels dig into his sculpted obliques had enough to bruise. 

“Want it–” You’re letting your head loll stupidly, pathetic whines the only thing that can drip intelligently from your tongue at this moment. “-want it so bad! Ah!”

Gojo snickers something mean, tiny dimples denting his smirk. “Already know that, sweetheart.”

Sloppier. Faster. And by the trembling little crack in his deep octaves, by that unintentionally sexy look on his face he only gets in battles, you’re wondering which one of you is the most gone right now. 

He rovers a palm over to cup your perked clit, “Already know that ngh- Can see that this s’gonna make your hngh- cunt swell even cuter and this-” Freshly lacquered tips of his digits twirling ‘round and ‘round that swollen hood, you’re counting one crash - two - three - six right into your tenderized g-spot. Before he’s pinching- “-this is gonna make you cum.”

And when has the strongest ever been wrong?

Before you know it, you’re sugarcoating Gojo’s entire length with flooding torrents of slick. Eyes flashing hot white and red before your head throws back with a shrilling moan of Satoru–

Trembling legs being plastered and glissaded ever-tighter against his rippling muscles. Spurting jets of your bliss crashing into you headfirst. Maybe you’re squirting, maybe you’re not - you can’t even see because fuck- when did the lightbulbs shatter?

The thought barely articulates in your mind before Gojo snatches you out of your fuzzy reverie by drilling his index hard against his silhouetted jackhammers. 

Manicured fingernail drawing a languid line up, up, up-

“Right here-” He’s putting a mere fraction of his strength into pressing down a circumference of pressure right where Gojo’s vicious cock was fucking you through your high. Right where he was ending off each thrust with a resounding thud! against your cervix - your womb -  that leaves your mind blank. His favorite girl. His favorite place. He’s all but giggling “-here- s’where my favorite domain ta expand is, sweetheart.”

“...”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Stuffin’ 3

“Awww, angel, don’t tell me you’re heh- tapping out already?” Higuruma leaves off numerous sharp spanks against the plapping mounds of your thighs. The meaty plane of his greedy palms covering little massages, “After I just fucked this ngh- cute lil’ tummy bulge into ya.”

Higuruma thinks you’ve never looked prettier - well, his dear wife is always beautiful. 

But something about the way you’re huffing and puffing at him, splayed out all on his lux office chair, grappling your nails to rake expensively all over his leather cushion. 

But he didn’t give a shit. Not when he had you exactly where he wanted like this.

Thighs straining with tired ache, spine curved oh-so-sweetly into his ready touch, your sopping cunt bouncing to taste each n’ every inch of his reddened cock. Oh, this was heaven. Fucking his currently-annoyed lil’ wife until you couldn’t even remember your own name.

And he’s finding himself looking over a busy document he’s sure is important, cocoa eyes dusking over with a lecherous twinkle. 

“Mmm– still mad at me, sugar?” He’s drawling with that rasped tone that makes your adhesive-like wall clench, fat pearls of your sticky slick escaping from the sides of your sappy slit and puddling into a glossy ring around his hefty base. You’re gasping when he rubs his ice-cold wedding ring against your dripping lips, “Y’know m’sorry I ngh- took overtime on our date night. But m’here- hah- haaaah–”

You’re squirming at just how adoringly he leaves with a few thorough smears of his fat thumb down the teary line of your cunt. Wetting a viscous layer of slick that dribbles all the way down to his flexible wrist, he draws a translucent line of gloss up, up, up till he’s smudging the rotund bump leaving heavy-duty nudges against your weeping walls. “-heh riiiight here. N’ m’gonna make it ah- up to you. Promise.”

Your brows furrow so adorably- fuck, it makes him dewdrop a few gummy puddles of scorched pre. “Hmpf–”

Bouncing his muscular thighs - clothed thighs, still in his smart office slacks - so that you’re forced to jerk along with his rugged tempo. Higuruma always fucked so filthy. 

Hot, vicious pounds. A few doughy tips of his thick fingers stroking the thumping ends of that tummy bulge he loved so very much. Nuzzling at just the right angle for his silver suit cuffs to nudge your fleshy clit. 

It didn’t help to even sink the edges of your teeth into your unsteady lower lip. Because solely a long, harsh drag down your soppy g-spot - that your husband knew too well - makes you whine, “Fuck- ngh- there, Hiro–”

Up and down until your slobbery hole was latering a candied layer of sweet, sweet juices all the way from his leaking strawberry divot till that neat black happy trail. Grinding your plump clit along his flexed abs, “There there- let it out, let it alllll out for your Hiromi here.”

Shit- he’s wondering in the melty depths of his brain whether you even realized you were bustling yourself to milk his furious cock that way.

Spraying out an overspilling squirt of slick with every slam! you’re planting down on his lap. Mazing apart your muggy walls to pry into every hidden orifice you could find - even ones that you didn’t even know existed until Higuruma’s swollen girth probes a few lightning-bolted veins into those exact bullseyes. 

“Sh-shit- hah!” You can’t stop your traitorous tongue from echoing out, leaning in to gulp in flavored breaths of Higuruma’s heady cologne. “M’s-still a-angry at–”

“Mhmm–?” Oh, he knew what he was doing. Hiding away the devious edges of his sleazy smirk with that document, you were just so adorable when you’re teased like this. Fluttery eyes narrowing once he keeps pretending to read, “Oh? What was hngh- that, angel?”

Fucking you stupid. 

You couldn’t feel anything other than the purely cottony bliss that came with his splotchy circle being drawn on top of your battered and bruised womb. The sugary taste of your high building up and up and up- “Th-that m’still- oh, Hiromi- feels so good-”

“Exactly what I thought, sugar.” He chuckles out something dark, curdling at the raspy back of his throat. Tilting back in his chair ever-so-slightly to let you lean your weight into his toned front. Teasing his paper in front of you, “Now now– let me get back to my hah-”

Shit- Higuruma Hiromi’s searing eyes widen, he catches his sexy bass wavering, cut off for the first time in thirty-something years when you’re bringing up a hand to your bloated tummy bulge and pushing-

“O-oh.” He’s scrambling with a few webbed wads of saliva to coat his parched throat, struggling to keep the pure whimpering awe away from his words. “Angel- angel, what are you- oh.”

But your sultry smirk only gets wider, your gyrating motions only sloppier. Thumbing over where you’re sure you’d mapped out the sneaking ridge of Higuruma’s sensitive slit, “What was that, dear husband?”

Ah, he can feel the pearly beads of sweat spattering along his forehead now. A slow trickle of thin drivel springing from the wobbly corner of one mouth, hips perching off of the dampened seat in a one-two-three staccato. “Angel…angel- m’s-sorry I teased- ngh!”

Two could play that game - and Higuruma was completely n’ utterly failing right now.

Such a pretty loser with his uncharacteristically-dishevelled locks, steadily flushing cheekbones, staring right into your eyes with every pound of his mushroomy tip leaking against your innermost depths. Hot. Sopping. Shivering after every clench you were mercilessly bestowing on his puffy shaft.

“My wife-”

“Hmmm?”

“Fine- fine-” Higuruma grits out, jaw clenched so tightly that you were half-wondering in a cockdrunken little haze whether he couldn’t taste iron already. Plush pecs rollercoastering in repeated heaves after every buck, “G’na fill you u-up, sugar.” Palming his own set of fingers over yours, over that rummaging cylindrical outline. “Make you even fuller- would ya like that? Would that make you happy, hm?”

His vigor so dizzying and addictive that it takes you every ounce of will in your boneless body to nod your unbalanced head, “Yes- yes. D-don’t miss inside, Hiromi–!”

“Well then…” And you swear you catch the barest curl of such a saccharine sweet smirk on his kiss-bitten lips. “-get ready. Here it comes, angel.”

And no warning in the world could have ever prepared you for the steadily gushing waterfall of buttery seed that invades your insides. Gooey patches of cum drip down to his formal pants, helping you slip and slide down his reddening shaft to milk out every single creamy ounce possible. 

So sweltering hot. So much of it - it’s as if he’s never cum this hard in his entire life. 

Higuruma can feel himself shaking, sensory tips of his fingers digging and budging that bloated outline being fucked deeper n’ deeper into you. Fat balls clenching once your velvety walls clamp down clingily and you cum-

“Tha’s it, thaaat’s it–” He’s droning through wet chuckles. Thumbing over to feel for the splats! of fountaining cum that slosh about your every nook. Overtaking you. His pretty wife. Flooding your mushy tastebuds when he plugs your whining maw shut with those very same lustrous digits, “Soon yer gonna be even more stuffed, mama.”

A/N. Anatomy? What anatomy?

he concludes that something must be up, “what’d you want from me?”

there hangs a silence between you two afterwards. sukuna’s slow yet heavy footsteps reverberate through the hallway, followed by your quick and light ones.

you pout as you notice that the king of curses isn’t even sparing you a glance, “nothing at all. i just like to be with you.”

you add the latter as an afterthought. you don’t expect sukuna to react to that, so you continue to trail behind him into the courtyard.

“tch,” you hear him scoff in annoyance. you’re sure he doesn’t mean any actual harm by that, so you don’t take it personally.

sukuna eventually sits down on the engawa, where the servants have placed the comfy zabuton cushions. there’s always one for you as well—right next to sukuna’s. it’s become a habit for the maids to include you in sukuna’s daily routines, because you’re always with him.

you eye your own cushion, though don’t make an effort to actually sit down on it. sukuna stares ahead, not bothered to notice you at the moment. you look down at his lap, recalling just how perfectly you can fit on it.

you don’t waste any more time and plop down on his thick thighs, your back against his chest. sukuna’s brow twitches at the sudden contact. his bottom pair of eyes look down at you whilst the upper ones keep looking ahead aimlessly.

“get off me,” the king of curses commands through a low tone.

sukuna doesn’t push you off, however. that alone tells you enough; he’s tolerating your behaviour. as per usual. or perhaps he secretly likes your proximity.

you shall never know which of the two it actually is.

“nooooooo,” you exaggerate with a whine. you don’t want to.

you wrap both of your arms around one of sukuna’s—clinging onto him like your life depends on it. he simply responds by sighing.

you know sukuna’s able to grab you by the collar and force you to sit down on the cushion beside him, but he doesn’t. your heart flutters every time he shows tolerance to your clingy behavior. it means that maybe—just maybe—he’s opening up to the idea of being more affectionate with you.

“such a fuckin’ brat,” sukuna puts one hand on your waist, the others supporting his weight on the engawa. he grumbles, but there are clear signs of him relaxing with you in his presence.

you chuckle at the realisation and swing your legs in excitement. sukuna unexpectedly bites your ear in response to your increased activity on his lap, “stay still or i’ll kick you off.”

you let out a small whimper as you feel his fangs gently sick into your earlobe. you jolt back and rub the skin with your hand, looking up at sukuna with a playful frown before teasing him back.

you roll your eyes and answer him with a firm yet mocking, “sir yes, sir!”

sukuna clicks his tongue at your tease. you answer him like he’s some general in the military. that’s not the kind of relationship he has with you—it’s more than that. even though he knows you’re joking, he dislikes it when you call him anything other than ‘my lord’, ‘my king’, or just his name.

he finds great satisfaction in the way you refer to him as such. you’re the only one who can make sukuna grin each time you remind him of his status and the power he has over you.

the power dynamic; it’s addictive.

he needs more of it.

sukuna reaches out to grab your face with one hand, but you’re quick to pull your head back the moment you see that intimidatingly big hand coming down onto your vision.

you clear your throat and apologise, “i mean—yes, my lord.”

the king of curses hums in content. that title is exactly what he had been looking for.

he retracts his hand and settles it back down on your waist, patting your sides twice to show his satisfaction with your obedience.

you stop squirming around in his lap and simply lay back down in his arms. you close your eyes and nearly fall asleep because of the comfortable atmosphere. the slight breeze against your face is relaxing and perfectly compliments the warmth from sukuna’s body.

what a perfect way to spend your day.

And of fucking course his mind wanders further—

Would your mouth feel that good in reality?

Would it turn him on that much to have you on your knees between his legs?

Would your moans really sound that divine while doing your best to bring him towards pleasure?

Will—

“Earth to Katsukiii,” you suddenly speak, waving a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him jolt slightly, his body shifting backwards on the couch.

“What!?” His head snaps towards you instantly, his hand coming up to slap yours away, ignoring the warmth that lingers from the brief contact.

“I have been talking to you,” you frown, scooching closer to him, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’,” he shrugs, but his body tenses the moment your chest brushes against his arm.

“You’re even pissier than usual,” you remark with a raised brow, studying him carefully. He scoffs.

“You’re imagining things,” he replies way too fast.

You frown deeper, squinting your eyes as you shift even closer, intentionally closing the space between you. You don’t miss the way he immediately leans away.

“Why do you run from me?” you ask, tilting your head.

“I like my space, weirdo,” he mutters under his breath.

“I like your space too,” you tease, nudging your knee against his.

He instantly moves his knee away.

“Shut up and watch this damn movie,” he rolls his eyes, trying to focus anywhere but you.

“Kats.”

No answer.

“Katsuki,” you insist again, leaning in and poking his cheek with your finger.

You feel it — the tension.

You notice the way his hands curl, palms balling into fists as he takes a slow, deep breath, clearly trying to keep himself together.

“What’s up with you?” you push again, your voice softer this time, but more insistent. You move even closer, until he’s practically cornered at the end of the couch, your body fully pressing into his.

“Tell meee,” you drag out, nudging him lightly. “What’s bothering you?”

“You’re bothering me,” he finally snaps, his tone sharp and annoyed, making you blink in surprise. “Even in my fuckin’ dreams,” he adds with a frustrated groan, dragging a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was.

“What?” you ask, caught off guard. “You dreamt about me?”

“Are you deaf?” he rolls his eyes, letting out a short, dry chuckle.

Then—

Something shifts.

A slow, almost mischievous grin spreads across your lips.

“What kind of dream did you have?” you ask, lowering your voice slightly as you lean closer, your gaze locking onto his.

Before he can react, you move.

In one smooth motion, you swing your leg over him, then the other, settling yourself directly in his lap, your thighs resting on either side of his muscular legs.

His mouth parts slightly, frozen halfway open, one eye twitching as he stares up at you, completely caught off guard.

“Come on,” you push again, shifting slightly on his lap, your clothed core brushing against his crotch through his jeans.

“Did you have a wet dream?” you ask playfully, clearly teasing, not thinking anything of it — but the moment he flinches, looking away instead of snapping back at you, your smile falters just a bit.

“Did you really have a wet dream of me?” you ask again, this time more serious, your eyes searching his face.

“Piss off,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze.

“Oh my god… I want to know right now,” you nudge him again, more insistent this time.

“I ain’t telling you shit, now get off of me,” he says, though his hands find your hips, gripping them instinctively.

You place your hands over his, pressing them down, smirking slightly.

“You know… if you tell me what it was about… maybe I can help,” you shrug casually, as if you didn’t just drop that.

He stares at you, completely dumbfounded, like you just said the most insane thing he’s ever heard.

“You gotta be joking,” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Why would I be? It’s not like I don’t find you hot or anything,” you add, shifting slightly again in his lap.

That stirrs something in him.

He hisses under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening without him even realizing it.

“I’m still not telling you,” he mumbles, jaw clenching.

“Okay…” you hum. “I’ll guess.”

You take a moment to think, then—

“Was I on all fours? Were you fucking me from the back? I know you like doggy style… or maybe something else? Like missionary? Or cowgirl?” you ramble, mostly to yourself, watching his reactions closely. “How about—“

“It was a goddamn blowjob, now shut up,” he groans, his head falling back against the couch with a dull thud.

“Oh,” you pause, blinking. “A blowjob,” you repeat thoughtfully, tilting your head slightly.

“How was I able to fit all of that in my mouth?” you add, genuinely thinking about it.

He groans louder this time, hands leaving your hops and dragging them down his face.

“You are killing me, woman,” he mutters, voice strained, making you giggle softly.

“So you want it?” you ask, watching him closely.

He makes a pause, completely baffled.

Then—

“The hell? Who asks their best friend to suck them off?” he snaps, glaring at you.

“Who dreams of their best friend sucking them off?” you shoot back instantly, raising a brow.

“Smartass,” he scoffs.

“Pervert.”

“Oh, I’m the pervert? Not you, who’s been grinding on me for the past minutes?” he shoots back.

“I only suggested it because you seem stressed lately,” you say, your tone softer now, but still teasing. “And you clearly don’t wanna talk about feelings. Maybe I can help some… other way… you know?”

He goes quiet.

Really quiet.

His brows pull together as he stares at you, his expression shifting into something more serious, more conflicted — something you can’t quite read.

You’ve never seen that look on him before.

Not like this.

There’s hesitation.

Something heavy sits behind his eyes.

“You better not make me regret this,” he mutters finally, his voice lower now.

Your brows lift slightly, tilting your head. You didn’t know what to make of this words.

“Wha— what?”

His hands tighten on your hips, making you shift against his crotch for the nth time.

“Get on your knees.”

“Now?” You ask baffled.

“Yes, now. I’m in the mood and it’s your fault,” he reminds you.

You bite your lip to repress a smile.

Instead of a snarky comment, you just nod quietly and get off his lap. He spreads his legs wider the moment you move, watching you closely as you lower yourself onto your knees, settling between his muscular thighs.

Your palms come up to touch them, fingers gripping the material of his jeans as you slowly move them up and down, feeling the tension in his body, trying to ease it just a little.

You take your time.

Slowly moving upward, dragging it out, making it feel like it takes forever to reach his crotch… then his belt.

You start unbuckling it, your movements slow, all while looking up at him — watching the way he stares down at you, jaw tight, lips pressed together, hands resting stiffly at his sides.

You slide the belt out of the way, then undo his zipper, finally revealing his black boxers. Something hard brushes against your hand and he hisses above you, his breath catching.

Your fingers dip under the material and drag it down, exposing his happy trail that leads down to his cock. His own hands come down to help, pushing his jeans and boxers lower, lifting his hips just enough. The fabric bunches at his thighs, out of the way.

And then—

His cock springs free.

Long. Thick. Prominent veins running along the length of it. The tip flushed a reddish color, already leaking with pre-cum.

“C’mon, dig in,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips as his hand comes to tangle in your hair, pushing you slightly forward.

You don’t rush.

You lean in slowly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling the way he reacts instantly — his breath hitching, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips as you glance up at him through your lashes.

Your tongue slides out, dragging along his length, long, intentional strokes, collecting the pre-cum as you go. His fingers tighten in your hair.

“Don’t— be such a tease, damn it,” he grits out, voice rougher now, the veins in his neck more visible as he looks down at you.

You let out a quiet chuckle, but you give in.

Enough teasing.

You part your lips and guide him in, taking him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, relaxing your jaw as you go, until the tip presses against the back of your throat.

You pause there for a second, breathing steadily through your nose, adjusting — letting your body relax around him.

Then you start moving.

Slow at first.

Pulling back just enough before taking him in again, setting a rhythm, your tongue flattening along the underside, tracing the veins, working with each movement.

Spit and pre-cum mix together, making everything smoother, your lips sealing tightly around him.

All the while, your eyes stay on him.

Watching everything.

The way his teeth catch his lower lip. The flare of his nostrils. The crease forming between his brows as he tries to hold himself together. Low grunts slip past his lips, restrained, controlled — but you can tell he’s holding back.

That only makes you pick up the pace.

Your head starts bobbing more steadily, your movements more confident, more precise. Tears sting lightly at your eyes from the burn of your throat, but you don’t stop — you just adjust your breathing, keeping the rhythm consistent.

You want to hear him.

Really hear him.

“You happy now?” he asks, breath uneven, voice rough. “Having a mouth full of me?”

You let out a muffled moan around him in response, the vibration traveling through him as your tongue moves again, your pace never faltering.

“You greedy brat,” he chuckles, though his voice strains. He knows you — you like this, like putting on a show, like pulling reactions out of him.

His hips twitch upward when you increase your speed, your nails digging slightly into his thighs to steady yourself as his fingers tighten in your hair.

Sweat starts to bead at his forehead, sliding down as strands of blond hair stick to his skin.

“Mhm— keep— keep going,” he finally groans, his control slipping just a bit more.

You keep the same pace, consistent, precise, working him up without losing rhythm, your tongue and lips working together, spit and pre-cum already dripping down your chin. But is all worth it when you feel it—

The twitch.

The tension building.

A few more precise movements, a slight change in pressure, and then—

He breaks.

“Fuck, fuck, gonn a—“

His words are cut off as a low, deep moan escapes him. He releases, his body tensing as he spills hot loads of cum into your mouth. He closes his eyes at the feeling, barely able to keep his lips sealed.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, his orgasm washing over him, then — he finally looks at you. You were still on your knees, still sucking and slurping like your life depended on it.

“Fuckin’ hell— you’re takin’ everything,” he lets out a weak, breathy laugh. And it was true, you make sure to not let anything go to waste.

You suck him dry.

And he lets you — for a short while.

Only when the sensitivity kicks in does he tug at your hair, trying to catch his breath and helping you catch yours.

“Shit— too much—” he groans, needing another second to breathe, to recover as you pull away, licking your lips slowly, cleaning the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand as you look up at him.

Taking him in.

He’s leaned back against the couch now, hair messy, chest rising and falling steadily, his cock flushed and glistening, resting against his stomach now. His pants and boxers are still pushed down around his thighs as he spreads his legs, taking a lot of space like usual.

But he wasn’t the only one looking messy… he noticed your state too.

And fuck if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Your hair was deshiveled from his grabbing, your cheeks were flushed, lips plump and glistening with fluids… you looked so fucking pretty like this — on your knees for him, having his cum down your throat and looking at him with teary eyes — a sign of how hard you tried to take him.

You remain on the floor even if it wasn’t the most comfortable place, still close to him.

“So…” you finally break the silence softly.

His eyes snap back to yours, still catching his breath.

“Was this better than your dream?” you ask with a raised brow and a teasing grin.

But he won’t give you want to want. He already gave you enough.

He just scoffs at your question, rolling his head slightly to the side, trying to hide his smile.

you and katsuki were best friends, as everyone knew. you hung out all the time, just the two of you together. when katsuki wanted some quiet time, companionship, someone to rant to, he came to your dorm, because he knew you’d understand. you were always there for him, and he appreciated that. you both hung out often enough that you’d both just started entering each other’s dorms unannounced—well, sometimes you still knocked when entering his. he was a little more sensitive around personal space. but katsuki regularly entered your dorm without knocking, it was common.

luckily for you, when he opened the door, he didn’t catch you undressed, like you’d been just a few minutes ago, but he did catch the tail end of your fit. muffled scream of frustration, dull thump of your fists and feet against the mattress, all of it.

your head shot up the moment you heard the squeak of the door, making eye contact with him. he stood stock still, dressed in a casual black shirt and gray sweats, staring at you with an odd look. his red eyes flit over you, trying to see if he could understand what exactly was happening, but he found no clarity. “...you good?” he eventually rumbled, stepping into your room and pushing the door shut behind him. “the hell are you beatin’ up your bed for?”

maybe another time you’d try to find an excuse, or maybe just clearly try to tell him it was really personal, but right now your sex addled brain was kind of messing with your communication skills. “you don’t wanna know, kats,” you just grumbled, collapsing into your bed again, face smushed into your pillow. “you should leave.”

“yes, i do, that’s why i asked,” he shot back. his voice was a few steps closer now. peeking up, you saw he was leaning against your desk. “why should i leave? are you upset?”

“no, you don’t, no i’m not, and you should just leave.” normally, you’d love to spend time with him, but right now you were pretty sure he’d just make the urge worse.

“just fuckin’ tell me.”

“it’s nothing serious, it’s fine.”

“then why don’t you wanna say it?”

you turned your head to the side to give him a flat look. this is what you got for oversharing all of your personal details with him. the moment you didn’t want to, he thought it was weird. “‘cuz, you’re gonna get embarrassed.”

his face scrunched up and his jaw shifted when you said that. oh, of course he was taking it as a challenge. “no i won’t?? i can handle anything you fuckin’ tell me, i don’t care.”

you groaned, “kats, i’m serious. leave.”

“so am i!”

“you’re gonna think it’s weird.”

“no i won’t! just tell me!”

your eyes rolled. he was so annoying sometimes! but, if he wanted to know so badly, “i’m ovulating, and horny out of my mind, and so help me god i’m gonna jump the next person with a penis i see, and unless you want that to be you, you should really leave for your own personal safety.”

his jaw clicked shut. you watched his reaction for a moment, trying to decipher what it meant, but he’d gone very still. you couldn’t tell if it was discomfort, or just shock. boys always get weird about menstrual cycles, maybe katsuki did too? feeling like you’d fucked up the interaction, you sighed and turned your head back into the pillow. “stupid—fucking—cycle—” you started muttering to yourself, each word accompanied by a soft kick into the mattress again. anything you said now couldn’t make this interaction much worse, so you might as well continue letting your feelings out.

there were a few seconds of silence from the other side of the room as katsuki watched your struggle. eventually, “is it really that bad?” he asked. his voice sounded a little rougher and quieter than before.

you stopped, lifting your head again to look at him. he was scowling, arms crossed, but his ears were red, and that combined with the way his voice had sounded—was he shy? It wasn’t the most uncommon sight, the class had long since figured out how to fluster him. but in this context, you couldn’t quite tell what it meant. “yeah,” you said simply. he just stared at you, waiting for you to continue. you pursed your lips for a moment, but gave in. “when it’s bad, it’s bad. it’s on my mind all day.”

“and masturbation doesn’t help?” okay, this was getting a bit more detailed than you’d been expecting. you’d never really talked about sex with katsuki, before.

“not really, no.”

he went quiet after that, his gaze darting away. you watched as his jaw shifted, hands dug into his biceps, brows furrowed as he glared at the ground. you exhaled a sigh, looking away. “katsuki, you can go, it’s—”

“it’s fine,” he cut you off.

you gave him another odd look. “what do you mean?” you were getting a little annoyed now. the least he could do is leave you alone to masturbate, right?

he shifted, gaze darting up to yours again. “i’ll help you,” he spoke again. he still sounded shy, but it was that sound of someone trying something they were nervous about. guess that made sense, actually, since he didn’t know you were into him. he basically felt like he was throwing a shot into the dark, even despite what you’d said. “you said to leave, unless i ‘want that to be me’, right?” and oh, he was actually asking you, now, if you wanted it. “well, i’m fine with it. if you want the help.”

you just stared at him for a few seconds, completely surprised he was actually offering this. “you’re serious?”

his face scrunched, “if you don’t want it—”

“no! no, i do, i do,” you cut him off, jumping up from your bed in worry that he was about to storm off. “i just—wasn’t expecting it, is all.”

he went quiet, but he didn’t leave. just kept staring at you, wordless. your heart lifted in elation (finally, finally, you could touch him like that!!), your nerves vibrated beneath your skin. could you really just, pull him into a kiss? was it okay?

“well, i’m serious,” he interrupted your thoughts.

you blinked at him, wide-eyed, then you were stepping forward and yanking him into you by the front of his shirt. he stumbled, but you caught him, and your other hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him into a clumsy kiss. his breath hitched in surprise, but he melted immediately. “fuck,” he breathed against your lips, the expletive immediately followed by a groan of your name. his right hand found your jaw, tilting your head so he could kiss you at a better angle. his other hand landed on your waist, tugging you close to him.

you walked backwards towards your bed, tugging katsuki along with you. the two of you stumbled over your steps as you desperately fought to keep your lips locked. his hands on your skin, his heavy breaths mixing with yours, lips moving against each other’s. you’d wanted this for so long, you didn’t want to separate from him for even a second. who knew if he’d want to do this again? if this was a one time thing? luckily, he didn’t seem to want to stop kissing you either, so he made it easy on you.

he was a little too distracted to notice what you were doing, the way your hand on his shirt was maneuvering him closer to the bed. you turned him so his back was to the bed, and you were in front of him. his knees hit the edge of your mattress, and he stumbled, accidentally pulling away from the kiss. you pushed him and he fell back onto the bed, catching himself on his hands. you quickly clambered onto his lap, hands placing themselves on his shoulders. “damn, you’re aggressive,” he breathed, gaze dragging itself down your body.

cue the eyeroll. “duh, just told you I’ve been horny all day,” you mumbled back, hands smoothing down his chest to slide beneath the hem of his shirt. “you think i was lying?” your teeth caught your lower lip when you felt the warm skin of his abdomen beneath your palms. you’d thought about this a thousand times, having him under you like this, alive and real. imagination really couldn’t compare to the real thing. your heart was going crazy in your chest.

his right hand caught one of your wrists, guiding you to press your hand against him harder. your eyes darted to his, surprised. “quit sassin’ me,” he muttered, his other hand slipping beneath your hoodie to grip your bare waist. he tugged you forward, slotting your hips to rest above his groin. he rolled his hips up against yours, and arousal rapidly pooled in your gut. your lips fell open on a breathy sound, your lashes fluttered quickly. it’d been a while since you’d had sex, you’d forgotten how good even foreplay could feel. and it was katsuki that was doing this, which made your heart rate spike 10x worse.

you groaned in annoyance (embarrassment) when you saw the smug smirk on his face, lightly pinching his stomach in retaliation. “oh, shut up.”

he jolted from the pinch, gently smacking your hand to get you to stop. “didn’t say anything.” his right hand landed on your thigh, this time. “‘m not makin’ fun of you. it was hot.”

you didn’t say anything back. your face was feeling a little hot.

he leaned in for another kiss, both his hands guiding you to start rolling your hips against him. “mm, fuck, you feel good,” he mumbled against your lips. you could feel him under you, a bulge pressing at your thigh with each grind. he slid his hands up your body, under your hoodie, thumbs flicking over your nipples. “you really got nothin’ on under here, huh?”

“wasn’t really expecting anyone,” you breathed back, a breathy whimper slipping out along with your words. “should’a known better, i guess.”

“nah, ‘s perfect.” he moved his head to the side, kissing at your jaw. “want it off,” he requested, hands shifting to slowly lift up the fabric. “can i?”

you chewed on your lip, focused on how nice his hands felt on you. “sure.” the moment he lifted the hoodie over your head, you were tugging on his own shirt. he huffed a laugh, but quickly removed it.

he eagerly pulled you into him again with his hands on your back, lips latching onto your neck. the sensitive area made you moan, hips rolling slowly into him. he groaned back, mostly out of arousal from the sound you’d made. you felt as his right hand skirted over the soft skin of your back, down until it slipped beneath your pajama pants. he groped at your ass through your panties, pressing you close to him, forcing you right over his bulge. it made you wet, the way he just moved your body how he wanted. made you grind against him, push where it felt good.

his other hand continued to smooth up and down your back while he moved down your neck to your collarbone. he was currently licking and sucking at the area, tongue rolling over your skin. his hand that was currently palming your ass finally slipped around to the front, cupping you through the thin fabric. “man, you’re wet,” he mumbled, his middle and ring fingers gently rubbing circles against your entrance through the damp fabric.

“ovulation does that.” your voice was breathy, completely distracted now. you’d been trying to make him feel good, too, but he was making it hard to focus. both of your hands had gone still, clinging to him for some sense of stability.

he grinned against your skin. you felt a little puff of air from the amused huff he made. “oh, it’s ‘cuz of ovulation, huh?” his fingers teased the edge of the fabric, hooking his index finger into the crotch of your panties. he slowly pulled it to the side, just enough for his fingers to slide against your clit. “no other reason?”

you didn’t say anything back, just moaned and rolled your hips into the contact.

he pulled back to get a good view of you. you caught the way he looked you up and down with half-lidded eyes, watching you buck into his hand while he made slow little circles on your clit. his other hand was cradling your ribcage, lightly thumbing at your side. “you look real pretty like this,” he mumbled, eyes catching on your chest for a moment before they continued down. his gaze locked on the bit of your panties he could see, eyeing the way they looked on you. “sound pretty, too.”

his eyes darted back up to your face, watching your expression as his fingers slid farther back, pressing at your entrance. he didn’t give any other warning, abruptly sliding two of his fingers in. you choked on a moan, falling forward to lean against him. “katsuki,” you breathed, already dizzy with pleasure. he just hummed, nosing at your shoulder while he rubbed at your walls. he thrust his fingers a few times, but he intentionally kept his fingers only up to two knuckles in, teasing you with the stretch.

he rubbed his palm up against you, making you whine from the pressure. his fingers slid deeper, until they pressed against a gummy patch inside you. his other arm slid to wrap firmly around your back, keeping you in place. he kept his palm flush against you to give your clit friction while he gently teased that spot. he mouthed at your neck, listening to the breathy moans slipping from your lips. “feels good, right?”

he snickered when all that left your mouth were garbled, half-formed sentences. he held you against him while he shifted, laying you down against your bed with your head on the pillow. you breathed in the short reprieve, gaze following him as he moved down your body. he kept his eyes on your face while his left hand tugged down your panties along with your pants, his fingers still inside you. the last of your clothes slipped off, and you were left bare.

his gaze hadn’t left your face, watching for any discomfort. you shyly bucked your hips against his fingers, silently begging for him to do something and stop watching you. he blinked and looked away, down between your legs. he groaned, finally able to see you. the thumb of his left hand gently spread your folds so he could see better, his eyes glued to the sight of his fingers buried deep in your heat. he gently rubbed at that spot inside you again, groaning in arousal. “you’re so hot down here,” he rumbled, licking his lips. “shit, you feel…” you watched him closely, taking in the look on his face. he was clearly deep in some mental fantasy right now, but he quickly blinked himself out of it, focusing on you again.

his fingers started moving again, thrusting into you at a moderate pace. they dragged against your walls intentionally, sliding over that gummy patch each time. then he dipped down, pressing a kiss to your clit. he smirked at the whimper you made, the way your legs were already shaking from stimulation. his fingers pushed all the way in, pressing flush against that particular spot, and then his tongue rolled over your clit. he rubbed at that spot while he sucked on your clit, riling you up until your moans climbed higher and higher. then his fingers inside you sped up, repeatedly pressing against you. the sucking on your clit was perfect, not too much, just enough for a knot to coil in your gut until you finally reached your peak. he kept going while you came, his left hand gently rubbing over your stomach.

he pulled away when your orgasm ended, kneeling between your legs as your body shuddered with aftershocks. his eyes trailed up to your chest as it rose and fell rapidly with quick breaths. his hands rubbed at your thighs soothingly, letting you come down. you felt almost light-headed, you were so dazed from how good it all felt. this was easily the most satisfied you’d been all day.

when you came back to yourself, your eyes fell on him. you realized katsuki was waiting for you, waiting to see whether you wanted to stop. your legs fell further open. “we can keep going.” you weren’t gonna stop here. who knew if this was a one-time thing?

he looked at you blankly, gaze darting between your spread legs and your face. you watched in silent confusion as he just sat there, unmoving. when he finally spoke, his words came out slow and intentional, “what do you want to do?”

ohhh. your lips twitched into a smile. “are you okay with putting it in? penetration?”

he nodded casually, “yeah, i’m good with that.” he seemed a little excited? he quickly hooked his fingers into his bottoms and tugged them down, until he was also naked. your eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement, watching as his cock sprung out.

he moved back up your body, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. you sighed softly into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. your body was thrumming with anticipation, waiting for him to press into you. instead, you felt his fingers slip inside you again. “kats?” you mumbled against his lips, confused.

his fingers gently scissored inside you, twisting around. “sorry, baby—” your pulse spiked at the intimate nickname. “just need to make sure,” he breathed back, kissing you again. you moaned softly, deciding to just wait.

his fingers withdrew, and the next thing you felt was the head of his cock pressing against you. he broke the kiss to breathe for a moment, like he was preparing himself. “tell me if it’s uncomfortable, okay?” he waited for you to nod, then slowly pressed his hips forward.

the head of his cock slipped into you with a wet noise, and he immediately groaned. his forehead was pressed against yours, eyes closed in pleasure and mouth slightly open, letting soft pants slip from his lips. “fuck, knew you’d feel amazing.” his cock slowly eased further in, the slide slick and effortless. he let out another loud groan and began rhythmically pumping his cock into you. he was leaning on his forearms, positioned on either side of you, so you got the perfect view of him. the way his face was screwed up in pleasure, abs tensing with each piston of his hips. a droplet of sweat slid down his neck, and it made you distinctly aware of how hot your own body was. how hot he felt pressed against you, how hot the space between you was.

katsuki was loud, you realized. moaning non-stop, muttering curses and praises of how good you felt. “so warm and soft,” his voice was gravelly, sounding like pure honey. even the way he fucked into you was loud, making slick sounds as he dragged his cock in and out.

you couldn’t help but watch him, mesmerized by how he looked when he was like this. you wanted to do this more often with him, wanted to be able to kiss him whenever you wanted to. thoughts racing, you dragged him into a passionate kiss.

he groaned, long and low, and you felt him adjust his position over you. the angle changed, and now each thrust felt like he was pushing into pure heat, so slick and heavenly. your moans against his lips changed, the pleasure going to your head and making you dizzy. he seemed to feel the change in the angle too, and his cock began pumping into you faster.

he slipped away from the kiss, burying his face into your neck. “shit, baby, fuck, fuck,” his voice was low but whiny, overwhelmed by the feeling of you wrapped around him. your pussy was tingling in pleasure, skin hot to the touch. you were feeling so so good, and he must’ve been more lucid than you, because suddenly there was a finger rubbing circles on your clit.

your back immediately arched, legs clamping together around his waist. moans climbing higher and more frantic, while he kept fucking into you and stimulating your clit. your breaths turned gasping, and then your orgasm washed over you. your walls tightened around him, and he immediately stilled, body tensing as he fought to not come inside you. “oh, shit,” he growled, gritting his teeth.

when your orgasm ended, he pulled out, hand wrapping around himself and pumping his cock to completion. you watched in a daze as he finished a few seconds later, cum spurting over your stomach.

he stayed leaned over you, breathing hard and gaze trained on your stomach. he stared for a few moments, unblinking. then he grabbed for your nightstand, tugging out a few tissues out of the box sitting on top. he cleaned you off carefully, pressing kisses to your neck while the tissues wiped off his cum. “thank you, baby,” he mumbled.

when he finished, he relaxed against you, still catching his breath. you were still hugging his neck, his face burrowed into your shoulder. you both breathed in the silence after, relishing in the afterglow. you ignored the anxious thoughts, the ones panicking about what this meant for you two.

a minute later, he tried to push himself up with a grunted “sorry,” but you pulled him back down, shaking your head. “let’s just lay here for a moment. please, katsuki?”

he stayed silent for a moment. like this, all you could see was the top of his blonde head of hair. you couldn’t see what face he was making, what he was thinking. “okay,” he breathed. he rolled onto his side, tugging you against his chest. “we’ll lay here for a bit.”

you pressed flush against him, cuddling as close as you could. you were sweaty and sticky, but it was better than getting up. getting up felt like leaving this behind. and you weren’t ready for that yet. “okay. thank you.”

he hummed and hugged you tighter.

You drag the door of the huge shipping container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the monsters. It would be if it weren't for Caleb. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on your brother. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the monster you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Caleb keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Caleb helping you from a distance is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Mindless moaning monsters you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Caleb anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find the only person you loved and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well, check it out then!" another commands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the moaning dead are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Caleb would be watching... waiting. A predator in the shadows. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of sight, using the edge of the container as a shield, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking," he adds.

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's a predictable evil. You're prey to people like them—something to hunt and occupy their time with in a world without the threat of consequence.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage. It's not hard to pull off considering the genuine fear wracking your body. It helps your performance. Make them drop their guard. Small. Afraid. Unthreatening. Alone. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

They hesitate. The barrels on their guns start to lower.

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims.

Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was: little thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Caleb more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Caleb was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something. You repeat it to yourself like a prayer.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response.

Their guards are down. They're distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

Their flashlights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger—probably still a child—a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him.

Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. Their hands send a wave of repulsion through you as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their slimy touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm growls, impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of monsters, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're pulled to a halt. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn of sudden emotion threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry undead. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Caleb was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all. A heavy weight sits in your chest, reaching it's hands out towards you, like the monsters in the pit: doubt.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol, and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the forehead before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though. Those moments with an enemy weapon pointed directly at you always do.

But then Caleb is there, strangling the man from behind with the body of a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck that you spot the bodies behind him: eliminated during your own attack.

He'd been waiting for you. If he attacked before you were ready, they'd use you against him. So he'd waited until the exact moment you'd shot the first one under the chin.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his eyes and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his purple eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky. His fingers struggle to secure your hair back behind your ear, trembling.

You nod.

"You did so good," he soothes, that familiar comforting voice easing you back into your own body. "You were perfect." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point before it rests at your clavicle. "We need to leave," he says, finally steadying his own breathing. "Stay close to me."

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember how close death is. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs—to the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His long, thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you. A protective warmth.

"You like that, sweetheart?" His lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. It falls down around his neck at the back, a messy wolf-cut that you hack at with a knife when it gets long enough to bother him. "You're so soft for me... dripping all over me... welcoming me in. You did so good today... so perfect..."

You offer a small whine in response, squirming a little.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your twitchy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"It's alright," he soothes. "You need me here? Inside?"

"Mm," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely with his huge body, a living blanket shielding you from all the world's dangers.

"I'm sorry they put their hands on you." His breath warms your skin, and he sounds pained.

"I'm not hurt," you remind him, again.

"Shouldn't have let them touch you."

You'd been through this before. More times than you could count. He would torture himself in the days after this. Perfection was all he ever accepted from himself, and arguing would get you nowhere.

So you reach blindly to find his wrist and grip it firmly. "Hold me tight," you whisper into his ear.

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas. Another apology.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he always knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you—like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"Won't let anyone touch you again," he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. "Never."

The loss of his hand on you is temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he buried himself deep—as soon as his cock was guided safely inside your dripping cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I've got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats.

He mumbles it over and over as he teases—plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink as he guides his tip over your twitchy hole and through your lips over and over.... and over... until you forget everything but the feeling of him against you and all the desperate need building up inside.

Then, eventually, he presses inside. Just the tip... and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a little taste of his actual strength. The strength he used to keep you safe every single day. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his thick arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a teasing sample of that fullness—of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he orders, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's wet and messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily.

His lips chase yours as you attempt to catch your breath. One kiss to your swollen lower lip as you pant. Then he licks at the drool glistening across your chin.

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck with a whimper.

And then, without warning, he pulls you down to meet his leaking cock—to fuck himself deep. It's sudden, and it's all forceful strength, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his shoulder as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin a little more, a silent warning moments before he's moving—fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his powerful thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

He attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear as you jostle against him. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... it's okay... you're okay..."

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My pretty girl." He holds you down against him, buried to the hilt, and grinds up into you with a roll of his hips. "My pretty little baby... fu-fuck... keep you safe."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips, lifts them up, and tugs you onto him—each thrust a vulgar slapping of skin that punches a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength.

You watch the muscles in his arms move as he uses you, moving you against him like you weigh nothing at all. His calloused fingers dig almost painfully into your hips. He's all power and murderous protection, and you feel it all as he drives himself through your walls again and again.

Gojo Satoru.

The infamous ruler of the Kingdom of Hybrids.

The shadow looming over your kingdom.

The last snow leopard hybrid alive.

There was a reason to that that made your heart clench—you’d felt the floor fall out of your history lesson the second it’d been taught to you. Legend said that your people had hunted down every last snow leopard hybrid after discovering that the opposing kingdom’s monarchs were of that family - every last one.

Except for one.

It was unsure how or when Gojo Satoru had escaped during the massive conflict, but your people had gotten their penance once he’d returned - stronger than ever - and declared battle.

But you didn’t want to think about that right now- not when all that led to were thoughts about just how the patriot might enact revenge for it upon you.

The Kingdom of Hybrids and the Kingdom of Humans have sat beside one another since the dawn of time, and so has the resentment between the two. It has always been ever-present and ever-growing. Your ancestors, and your ancestors’ ancestors. Like the overpass of frothy white clouds hovering through your blue, blue skies above—churning into dark storm clouds and blizzards once they reached the gloomy land of the neighboring kingdom.

The opposing kingdom always seemed colder, always seemed crueler.

And you were sure that the primary reason for that was the geographical difference between the two: your kingdom sat at the bottom of a mountain, where the valleys were fertile and nature flourished. Whereas the Kingdom of Hybrids was scattered in large, stone towers and huts across the enormous mountain range.

Only sharpening in weather and bite the further up the mountain one went. Its peak was completely obscured by clouds, and not even on the clearest day could you spot the spirals of where Gojo Satoru’s palace - aptly named the North Palace - was rumored to be.

Out of morbid curiosity, you did sneak a glance every day. Hell, you even fixed a lantern from your royal chambers—perhaps hoping that someday you might witness a lantern blinking back.

Though that was an experiment yet to bear results - you haven’t spotted even a single hybrid subject coming out of those hard stone homes. It was as if a ghost kingdom.

Even if the news from the front lines clearly stated otherwise.

The hybrids obscured themselves with snow and fog. Cloaked themselves in storms that sent trundling vibrations even to your palace. Residents of a perpetual winter that tore through their kingdom - even the stray gusts of air from the mountain made your subjects shiver, you couldn’t imagine what it was like to be borne and passed in such a state.

Borne and passed, because it was forbidden for subjects of either kingdom to cross into the other.

As all good neighbors must, your ancestors had raised a barrier separating the two lands for good; a thorny forest about seventy feet high and several towns’ length wide. It was made of thorned trunks about the size of boa constrictors. Plunging into the clouds with their barbed limbs as though to make the world pay for ripping apart the one body of the land into two parts.

Though if you made such a comparison in any of your tutoring classes, you knew you’d be punished forthright. 

It wasn’t a surprise when the resentment had exploded in the coming years.

By the time you were in your teenage years, announced as next in line to the throne, Gojo Satoru had already taken the mantle as king. And that was when the conflict had started.

Hybrid warriors attacking the outskirts of your kingdom. Your own feverish subjects bloodthirsty to set fire to their sparse farms.

It’s been a long and cruel battle.

You could sit here and recount the history lessons that your palace tutors had drilled into you - all those sabotages of war plans, all those attempts to oust either throne. The time your locals had been attacked by a ravenous pack of wolf hybrids, and the time your subjects had cut through the barrier, and clamored up the mountains just to spear through some of the prey. Hybrids with a taste for humans, and humans that bled no warmth. Blood and gore. Blood and gore. 

There never flourished a fruit sweet from blood and gore.

And the roots of the thorn barrier had been watered with such for ten years now. More from your own kingdom’s people than his.

Why had it even started? One could only guess.

You knew what the royal history tutors proclaimed - this was because of their hybrid powers, they’d been poisoning the wells and farmlands with their mystique, they’d been kidnapping humans for nourishment - but you also knew that those of the other side must proclaim something far different. Have conflicting stories ever settled on one answer? One truth?

Most definitely not. Battle only gave one answer, and the question was what numbers were lost.

Luckily for your kingdom, however, the end of the fighting was nigh. 

It had happened last week—the letter.

Just a day after you’d been announced to take up the throne in the upcoming week. The next Queen.

The resurgence of the people.

On a day when the fighting was stalled, and it wasn’t looking pleasant for your side: a sole hawk hybrid flew between those winding thorns, scratches upon his wings from the long flight, a white handkerchief of surrender tied around his neck.

The arrow upon your kingdom’s front lines had raised the moment the flapping of wings became clear. Drew closer.

If not for the wave of surrender, you weren’t sure what would have happened - Gojo Satoru was not the type of ruler to stand for a single one of his subjects being harmed. Especially one so seemingly harmless. And your lines of soldiers had been pushed back in the last few months…they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

The soldiers had shuddered as the half-human, half-bird creature drew nearer—something mythical from their storybooks, their greatest nightmares.

You hadn’t been there alongside them that day, and Commander Masamichi Yaga was the one to take the first step towards him. A handkerchief of white held in his own hand.

The two had met in the middle, you’d heard, on your side of the nation. 

There, the hook-nosed Commander - or so you’d heard from the whispers of the soldiers that had been there that day - had handed over the envelope. It was a snow-white parchment, cool to the touch; so starkly empty except for the slight heft in its weight, and the single, slanted line of blue cursive on its back.

To the future Queen.

A carriage had been called immediately to the royal palace.

Higuruma had flown off thereafter, and the Commander had set off down those high-ceiling, gold-capped corridors of the palace. At once.

You remember exactly where you’d been when you first saw the letter - in the circular meeting table with your royal advisors, poring over your nth war tactic that day. You’d just opened your mouth to suggest another treaty proposal between the two kingdoms - your strongest men and women and every warrior in-between couldn’t possibly last much longer against the formidable foe - when Yaga had barged in—his face solemn, his body bowed, his hand trembling where he held that unopened letter.

And at first, you’d assumed that something had gone horribly wrong - that your subjects had been harmed. But then you’d reached out and taken it.

The letter had no sender’s name, but it didn’t need one.

It was the first correspondence with King Gojo Satoru since he’d taken up the throne. Ever.

“To my dearest future Queen,

Though I suppose it shall be a falsehood to claim you as mine—that is not a privilege this lowly hybrid holds just yet. So I suppose you must forgive me; to the dearest future Queen.

I am aware of your kingdom’s valiant efforts against my own, and I commend you for maintaining such a fervent battle. I admit, no kingdom prior has managed to prolong one of my battles thus far—you’ve made me exercise battalions I never believed I would get the chance to, in this lifetime, and it has been quite thoroughly exciting to face my first challenge. You hold your fights well, my future Queen.

My apologies, it has happened again.

But you must be aware of what is undeniable - your kingdom is losing. Though not instantly, it is inevitable that, ultimately, your kingdom shall crumble before mine. Your humans are injured, and you falter in resources.

I know you know.

However, fret not. For it seems that across the duration of our snipes, I have grown to hold a strange affection for your kingdom, and most of all—you.

To the future Queen: if you wish for the war to come to a close, in a way that benefits both parties equally, I am extending this one olive branch.

Marry me.

Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.

You may hold the celebrations in any manner or place you wish, you may annul the marriage if you do so please. This lowly hybrid proposes that you may even take other lovers, shall it be your desire to do so; my only condition is that Your Majesty must reside in the North Palace alongside yours truly for one moon.

Yes, one moon with you is all I ask. After which you are free to return, to register the annulment, to even reside in the North Palace as long as you please.

Though, this lonely King shall do his best not to heighten his hopes.

On the moon after our union, my troops will pull back from the borders - we shall be at war no longer. 

On the third moon after which this letter has been received, Commander Higuruma will be awaiting in front of the thorn barrier for your response. Do not attempt to herald an attack, for there is a reason that hawks are birds of prey.

I await your response impatiently, the my future Queen.

Yours truly,

Gojo Satoru.”

The letter had dropped from your hands once you finished reading it.

One moon.

One night.

One night with the cruel King Gojo Satoru.

And of course, there was no promise that you’d ever be coming back—for, who could trust a King like so?

There was nothing more to be said about Gojo Satoru.

Everyone had a story about him.

Everyone.

Perhaps from the odd disappearance of a family member that strayed too close to the barrier, or a childhood bedtime story that always featured him as the fearsome villain. Lately, you have been the hero, of course. 

Though one knew not of what the hybrid looked like, nor his age, nor the full extent of his powers, nor any insight into his motivations - everyone knew one thing for certain: and that was to stay away. 

Gojo was deemed to be a brutal king—the cruelest of them all. The most wicked. The one that appeared on battlefields as fleetingly as a snowflake upon your palm, and disappeared just as quick - so quick that one won’t even be able make out his features, his form - leaving behind a trail of carnage that piled up high enough to form their own kingdoms. In just a single second.

And the more he aged, the more his powers grew.

He was the reaper. And you were being asked to walk right into his claws.

What followed had been a fervent series of letters - penned by only the best of the best advisors, authors, and peace negotiators in your kingdom - that were rejected one by one. Your kingdom’s messengers disappeared into the barriers upon their surrender-white horses, holding bagloads of letters and pleas from your council, and arrived with the very same an hour later—somewhat disoriented.

According to them, they’d followed the route to the other kingdom to a T - and yet, somehow found themselves exiting back out through your side of the wall once more.

Gojo’s magic, you knew. Though unaware of its uses and intricacies, you understood that this was what you’re getting for not following his instructions—waiting for Higuruma.

And you also understood that if his prowess was this expansive, then what more could they possibly do to your kingdom…

And so - after three moons - you’d accompanied Commander Yaga and the troops to the area where they’d first encountered Higuruma. Sure as ice, the hook-nosed man was standing there proudly.

He bowed luxuriously at you, before clipping the response letter into his clutches—then he stretched the massive wingspan upon his back and took flight. Disappearing towards his own kingdom in but a few blinks.

And you could only watch as your response was carried away.

“To Gojo Satoru,

I accept your proposal. It is time we finish this war.

Regards,

The future Queen.”

The date was set. You were to be married.

And so you’ve found yourself being fussed over by the entire palace - and even the tailors, and cake-makers, and florists from outside. The people. The outraged and the delighted alike.

Everyone and anyone bursting the seams of the palace in an attempt to catch a glimpse of you on your wedding day. What an honorable date it was, wasn’t it?

On the day that should have been your coronation as Queen, you’re being fitted into your wedding outfit.

It was initially supposed to be your first gown as ruler.

A lavish few meters of white silk pampered, teased, and pressed into frills. Millions upon millions of miniature diamonds bedazzle the fabric in increasing saturation towards the bottom, making it look as though you were the beauty of nature itself; the soft sunlight across freshly-ladden snow, the hymn of tree branches against the winter wind, an ice shard itself. Sharp when you’re not looking.

The train of your wedding outfit had taken several attendants to fix onto your jewel-encrusted tiara, and it billowed out the length of several ballrooms. 

It was equally as decorated with tiny fixtures of diamonds, heavy yet grounding - you’d specifically asked the tailor to add these on. If you’re going to bear yourself before the most wicked King, then you might as well make an impression.

You touch the silk gloves that covered you from fingertips to elbows - also something you’d requested. Just one night. You’d show that your kingdom wasn’t just the feeble humans he must think he was toying with- and afterwards all diamonds were ordered to be distributed amongst the people. 

This was your choice to marry your opposing monarch. Everything was yours.

Though the bouquet of white roses must have been a choice of the palace. Must have…

Your mask of quiet acceptance fixed. Your appearance radiant. You’re staring at the person in the mirror that seemed so distant from yourself—was this the new Queen of the Hybrids? 

Attendants and tailors fluttered around you like butterflies, harried that they weren’t able to suckle the honey out of you fast enough. They’re smoothing your fabrics down and fussing with your train, they’re making last-minute adjustments to the size and fitting- 

“Careful.” Your mother warns from a distance, and her tone is enough to make the entire room jolt. She stares down one of the tailor’s apprentices, “Heaven forbid you prick her- goodness knows what he will have to say.”

“Pricked or unpricked, he shall have to deem fit what he sees.” You’re responding, head held high. “For I was not the one that insisted upon a marriage.”

“But you simply must understand that—”

Mercifully, your mother’s getting cut off by the shrieking of trumpets outside.

There were many a royal and noble guests invited to your wedding, and each entrance had been marked by the stirring of your orchestra and the announcement by the chief butler. But this…this was a sheer symphony of sound, shivers, and suspense that made you realize that this couldn’t have been anyone but—him.

There was a special melody for your husband-to-be, and your heart thundered along to its march as everyone inside the dressing room rushes to the window overlooking the sprawling courtyard. It was a massive stone masterpiece - the brilliance of human craft - a swooping row of colonnades with a glittering fountain in the middle. Areas sectioned off for the spectators, and marbled pathways from which guests came and went.

Your hands grip the smooth windowsill as you witness a coach of pure white approaching. 

It was as unassuming as that of any other guest, only standing out for its sheer elegance. 

Large spiralled wheels pulling along a well-built carriage, with a gleaming white hood and its curtains drawn. Larger than most. It seems that the Kingdom of Hybrids had a tendency to use horse hybrids as both coachmen and those tugging on the reigns, they threw their long heads proudly as they pulled on the royal carriage. 

“Can you see him—can you see him?!” The attendants whisper to one another.

“I can’t see him yet- say, is it really true that he has the horns of the devil and wings like a bat?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s a snow leopard hybrid. I’ve heard he turns into a leopard at whim.”

“My acquaintance’s acquaintance says he’s cursed with six eyes- yes, six.”

“I’ve heard he’s grotesque-”

They falter, and flicker their gaze towards you. You don’t react.

Your eyes follow its parade between crowds that hush as it passes. It leaves a cold breeze behind it that makes even the heartiest of those celebrating tremble, it leaves the flowing water of your royal fountain freezing. Ice. 

You’re leaning even closer to the edge of the balcony, hoping to see but a-flutter of those curtains that might reveal something about the man who was surely inside-

“Ouch-” Startling at the sudden prick of something against your shoulder, you’re turning around to find that the young apprentice had leaned into you- holding her needle from before. The very tip of it had accidentally touched your skin, in her frenzy to see the King himself—and as her face drops in apology, you’re opening your mouth to tell her that it was perfectly alright when-

BANG—!

When a sharp gale causes the windows to slam shut. 

Everyone in the dressing room jumps back a foot away from the offending part of the chamber, looking at each other as if to confirm whether they didn’t feel a single breeze prior. You certainly hadn’t, either.

That had just come out of nowhere…

Rattled, no one makes to open the window once more.

The trumpets blare yet again - this time with a slightly less rich tune signalling another guest from a far-off land - and some of the younger attendants merely stare at the closed window longingly—wishing to just see. But one look from the main attendant has them jumping back into action, pins and all.

They had a wedding to prepare you for.

And the groom was already here.

.

.

.

Music was pouring out of the gilded venue.

In a letter later sent by Commander Yaga - and allowed through the barrier by Gojo’s powers - you’d specified that you’d like the wedding to be held in this magnificent limestone building; older than the rest of the palace it was attached to, and just as revered. Gojo’s reply had been simple: I am already aware of this arrangement, my future Queen.

And you didn’t want to think of how he knew.

Low chandeliers. Sprawling rose pathways. Attendants zipped back and forth between extending your train and sneaking looks inside the royal cathedral.

“Do you see him- move-”

“Oh, heavens—is that him?” Your skin prickles in goosebumps.

“I thought he had…”

“I would never have expected him to be so…”

Traitorous to that expressionless facade you had on, your heart races as yet another attendant hastens to join the troupe peering inside the pews- and gasps. For, what could that mean? What could such a reaction be indicative of? 

What did Gojo Satoru look like?

It’s not that you held physical looks upon a pedestal - you knew such frivolities were ephemeral, and you’d met far too many handsome nobles whose good looks did little to compensate for their manners or lack thereof. But it’s just…

You had an image of Gojo Satoru in your head.

Though legends often described him as a half-man, half-leopard with six eyes and bat-like wings that carried him over vast battle fields—you envisioned him as something slightly different. Perhaps a half-man, half-beast just as they said, with paws far larger than a normal snow leopard, and a fur-muzzled face that looked ready to eat you.

Something as mythical as they made him sound.

You’re shivering, and one of the attendants asks you whether you’re cold.

You’re shaking your head evenly, and they look up at each other and nod. You touch your gloves for comfort. 

They throw the gauzy veil over your face and fully open the double doors to the cathedral. The music had uplifted: it was time for you to walk down the aisle.

Your steps were just as poised and perfect as your years of etiquette lessons had taught you - and to the naked eye, you might even look confident. There goes the Queen, our savior, our monarch, marrying off the monster from the Kingdom of Hybrids to protect her people.

But out of their view, you knew your hands shook where you clutched that white rose bouquet.

It really was cold inside the venue.

It seems like eons before you’re reaching the end of the altar, and before your royal officiant begins his speech. Due to your veil, your vision of Gojo was obscured - other than the pointed tips of polished white shoes. You could sense that he was tall—but just how tall (taller than a human could be?) was still a mystery to you.

As the officiant reaches the end of his speech, two pale hands come into your line of vision. Long with slender fingers, slightly blushed at the tips of his knuckles - Gojo’s hands, you realize with a jolt - were reaching out for something you had.

Your own hands, it catches up to you.

And, tentatively, you’re putting your left hand in his.

It flinches- for just a split-second because of its frigidness. Before you’re keenly aware of the restlessness of your ministers in the front row, and you’re placing it back into his grasp.

“Your Majesty, if you could now place the ring on Her Highness’s finger and repeat after me—” And there was no ring in Gojo Satoru’s hands- there was no ring. But the next time you’re blinking - as if it had just manifested out of thin air - he’s suddenly holding the most beautiful band of silver in his hands.

A delicate wreath of precious metal, fashioned into two ferns that enveloped your ring finger perfectly, settled with a teardrop alexandrite in the middle and two smaller white diamonds on either side. Gojo’s fingers were cold as they held yours and pushed the ring on. The officiant continues, “-with this ring as a symbol of love, of commitment, of unity, and of peace—”

And a soft, smooth tone follows- his. 

Not quite the low, animalistic growl that you might have expected, nor the hissing sibilance of something shadowy - but something different entirely.

“With this ring as a symbol of my eternal love, of my commitment, of our unity, and of peace—”

It was the rich, noble tone of a royal. Gojo enunciated his words perfectly - and his deep voice echoed across every corner of the vast cathedral. Such a pretty voice and so- so human that it makes the hairs on your body raise.

The officiant continues with a light cough - if he were equally as surprised at the King’s voice, then he makes no indication. “I wed thee—”

“I wed thee—” And then Gojo says your name and it makes your heart almost stop. The way it rolled off of his tongue…it sounded like a prayer. 

“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime.”

“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime, and in each one after.”

There’s a slight shifting on the numerous wooden pews as Gojo takes his freedom with the vows. And then a slim silver band is handed to you - it feels cold in your palm, impersonal, though not nearly as cold as your future husband’s fingers - and your hands tremble as you take them in yours. The officiant turns towards you and utters those same vows- 

“With this ring as a symbol of love, of commitment, of unity, and of peace…” You’re repeating, sliding the ring onto his lengthy ring finger. Almost inhuman in nature. “—I wed thee, Your Royal Majesty, King Gojo Satoru-”

Your voice falters.

His hands grow a little tighter on yours.

“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime…” And you’re unsure what makes you take it- you’re so unsure. But you can’t help but echo just what the snow leopard hybrid had stated earlier, “-and in each one after.”

A soft rush of exhales as both rings now glint upon your matching fingers.

United as one.

The officiant’s booming voice announces, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you…husband and wife.” In the distance a bell tolls, and it swells above the creaking of mahogany as the spectators lean in their chairs. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Gojo’s hands - now clad with a single wedding ring - lift up the safety of your veil. And you’re blinking at the sudden rush of light now—you’re blinking up at him.

And oh.

Your breath catches in your chest, heart a-stuttering. Pert lips. Dimpled cheeks. Young- he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than you. Eyes such a pale blue that they looked almost white. For the crisp white strands of his hair catch the sunlight filtering through the windows, setting his features a-glow and revealing to you the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Human. 

He looked utterly human.

Gojo Satoru lowers his head towards yours but hesitates, his gaze searching for an answer in yours. And perhaps it was the shock of seeing the King of Hybrids for the first time - after so long looking out of your window for a glimpse of him - or perhaps it was the dizzying rush of warmth that’d suddenly run through your body but—but you’re leaning in first.

You’re the one kissing him, sealing your fate with the cruelest king of them all.

His lips were smooth and cool to the touch, tasting faintly sweet. 

You feel Gojo smile into the union, before he’s pulling back and re-slotting his mouth more eagerly against your own. 

Cheers erupt in the cathedral. And surely your advisors were shaking hands with one another, surely your mother was wiping off tears. 

One of your hands rests against the silken material of Gojo’s suit, pressed up against his chest where his heart battered. Only slightly faster than your own racing one - even though it wasn’t an embrace too scandalous nor prolonged, a thrill rushed through your body that you couldn’t explain.

Gojo cups your left cheek softly, though there was a lack of pressure that let you know that you were free to pull back any time. And you had to pull back - you needed to.

If not for the fact that this was a man you’ve never met before, then for the fact that The Ton would have far too much to say after the wedding - the King’s condition of a single night only added to the scandal.

But you just….you just didn’t want to. Some strange part of you deep, deep down only wanted to sigh through your nose as you leaned even deeper into him.

Something deep, deep, deep—

Before a hoot of celebration from somewhere in your audience jolts you back into your senses. 

And you’re pulling away from him as if it burned. 

Burned.

Burned—your body felt as though you were burning up. Feverish. 

It feels as though your veins were suddenly thrumming with an energy that wasn’t entirely yours, and the faster every single particle of you was vibrating - the hotter your body was feeling.

Warm tears welling up in your eyes. Mind never having felt clearer.

You’re panting once and it’s the most scorching breeze you’ve ever felt—“Fuck.” A ripple runs through your body as you realize you’ve just sworn without meaning to- and it seems to extend past you and into the body of Gojo himself.

Gojo.

Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.

Whose nostrils flare and his eyes grow sharper. Behind him, his fluffy tail of white with rosettes swings from side-to-side—tail? You hadn’t seen that before…And you’re stumbling closer as if to get a closer look, to which Gojo Satoru easily catches you in his arms.

His strong hand clasps at your waist, and you’re finding your body leaned shamefully into his chest.

Looking up into his pale, pale blue eyes - like the skies of an ever-present winter - you gulp. And then you tilt your neck slightly to the side, as though bearing it for him.

Gojo’s lips part, and you see sharp canines peaking between his pink lips.

The cathedral has gone quiet by now, any sense of humor and victory bled dry - as dry as he could bleed you, if ever his canines chose to make a target of your pretty neck. As though reading their urgent thoughts, the Hybrid King leans in—close enough that his cold pants cascade down your throat and your arched spine.

You gulp as his dampened teeth approach until they’re mere millimeters away.

In what feels like another far-off land, you’re hearing the cluttering of iron and armored knights approaching. The footsteps of your kingdom’s best troop, led by Commander Yaga, and their shouts for Gojo Satoru to cease as he himself plunges into this inexplicable daze. Flesh on flesh.

But you’re only closing your eyes in anticipation of his bite-

His bite that falters as Gojo flicks his snow leopard-like ears over to the storming knights- and he cracks a slight smile. 

One arm on your waist, and the other gently grasping your nearly ring-clad hand, he swings the two of you around as though waltzing to a music you couldn’t hear. The orchestra had long stopped.

And then you’re both disappearing into thin air.

Leaving behind only the rose bouquet.

.

.

.

By the time you’re opening your eyes, you weren’t at the royal cathedral any longer, and it feels as though you never were.

And one look around the room you were in makes you think that you never will be again. Ever again.

The chamber opened up like the mouth of a beast, of which you were inside with no way out. Teeth-like artifacts and ridges of bookshelves swathed the circular room luxuriously; titles of both human and hybrid languages of which you knew only a few sparse words. This was clearly the room of someone well-read, and your eyes glazed over at the large mahogany desk scattered with pictures, diagrams, and maps. 

Portraits. Balconies with more bookshelves. Stairs and spirals. And a few remnants of armor emblazoned with your kingdom’s insignia, the debris of a meal well-had. Like a massive uvula a chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and the longer you stared at it- the more it dawned upon you that it seemed to be made of some ever-lasting ice. 

Its windows provided little light and even less location. Fogged with frosty clouds, they were merely windows into a beast that had no soul—a beast that only hungered with no thoughts. A chill runs down your spine.

In just a second, you knew where you were: you were in the North Palace. Presumably in one of King Gojo’s studies.

You’re feeling his cold presence next to you- and you’re pressing yourself against the stone wall instantly. And he follows. Putting a hand down your right glove and pulling out the dagger you’d hidden beneath—always had. Always will.

You raise the tip of its silver blade to kiss Gojo Satoru’s neck.

It trembles just a little as he swallows.

Gojo has you pushed against the wall - chest to chest, pant mingling with pant - and one of his arms rested on the space above your head. He looks down at you with steely blue eyes.

His snow leopard tail quivers for a little bit- before coming to wrap around your leg. 

He almost tugs you to him and you’re gasping, pricking the dagger against his neck until a bead of crimson follows. “A step closer and I shall end this war right now-” You’re hissing.

And to your surprise, Gojo merely smiles. “You may believe that.” He lazily flickers his eyes down to the weapon you had clutched, and a slow frost starts overtaking everything from its handle to the blade. “But I am aware you won’t.”

“You know not a thing about me-”

“So you may think.” He reaches up and you almost flinch- in fact, every fibre of your rational being believes that you should flinch. But something else…something else entirely deeper and ancient keeps you in place, staring into Gojo’s eyes as he runs his fingers down your cheek. Letting the cold metal of his wedding ring kiss your skin, and you’re leaning into the touch - you wanted it so bad. But you didn’t know why. “But I believe I know you more than you might think, my Queen. In this life and others.”

You struggle to keep your breath even- why did you wish to lean into him once more? “You’re nonsensical. You’re crazy.”

“Perhaps so.” Gojo hums, his canines glinted in the dim lighting of the chandelier. “But this lowly hybrid only grows crazy for you.”

Your breath stutters. You’re breathing in his ice-cold scent. 

Gojo raises his nose in the air as if smelling something - you do, too, but you’re unable to sense anything but the coldness of winter and pine. But whatever he smells in the air makes him smile something simpering, “You are free.”

You balk, “What?”

“You are free to roam wherever you wish.” He says, finally creating some distance between you two. “You are free to…” Something catches his attention- he reaches out. And for a second there, you think he’s about to steal your dagger—but what Gojo clasps onto is your glove. The King presses that precious fabric against his face and inhales your essence, “-do whatever you wish.”

Leaving you stunned, the hybrid turns his back to you and walks towards the arched door. Glove crushed between his fingers.

He makes it until the frame of the door - of which he fills out most of its vast shape - before looking over his shoulder at you. “Everything except leave, of course. For the night.”

As he walks away, he calls.

“My attendants shall see to it that you’re led to your room and given a tour around the palace, and they shall provide you robes to which you may change into. The bath is already drawn, and my kitchens have prepared refreshments.” 

You feel yourself sliding down the stone wall.

“Dinner shall be served once night falls- do not be afraid to let the royal chefs know what nourishments please you.” 

Ultimately ending up on the floor. Hand shaking on your dagger.

“Once morning comes, you may do anything you please.”

You’re wondering what it was you felt earlier as you bared your neck to him.

“You may even leave.”

It’s then that a troupe of attendants enter after Gojo’s exit, hybrids of all shapes and sizes and colors—human. For the most part. They were similar to Gojo in the sense that they possessed more human features than the stories of your kingdom foretold, with ears and tails pertaining to their hybrid type, and demeanours which gave away their status as hybrids even if they wore cloaks.

One such hybrid - a red panda with a scar across her beautiful face - introduces herself as Utahime, the head attendant. She looks down curiously at you.

Your panting breaths. Your widened gaze.

“Forgive my manners, Your Majesty, but I haven’t seen a human before.” She tilts her head down at you, red ears twitching. “Worry not…it’s a little startling the first time for us, too.”

“The first time?” You’re being helped to stand by her.

“The first time.” Utahime nods, “Are you perhaps a little disoriented? We may pay a visit to my mate, Shoko, in the healing ward - she’s a caracal if that interests you - if you wish?”

“A caracal—no, hold a moment-” So much was swirling in your head—the first time, the mate, the existence of a healing ward just as your palace did. What on Earth was…“What do you mean by the first time? A mate?”

Utahime looks confused, mouth dropping slightly. “Why, because His Majesty has-”

“Utahime.” A stern, feminine voice sounds from the doorway.

You’re looking over the red panda hybrid’s shoulder to see a woman with short, straight hair standing at the stone door. Her ears so large and triangular - twitching back and forth with its tufted tips—“Allow me to look over Her Majesty.”

“O-of course.” Utahime moves to the side.

The hybrid - Shoko, you assume - looks over you for any signs of injuries or scratches during the journey here, including testing you for symptoms of magical nausea. 

And it seems a somewhat regular check-up, one that was reminiscent of the ones conducted in your own kingdom, until Shoko takes a cotton swab out of her medical bag and slides it down the tender spot of your throat.

All down that column. Lymph nodes.

As if your skin was more sensitive than ever, you’re shivering.

She inspects that cotton swab and lets it waft in the air for a seconds - seemingly all ordinary, it’s not long before Shoko’s wrapping it up and placing it all back in her bag. 

And you’re not able to ask what that particular process was about before Utahime’s bounding up to you again. The attendants had waited for your brief check-up to conclude. 

“Are you prepared for your tour, Your Majesty? Or would you prefer we bathe you first?” She asks.

“I believe I would like to freshen up first.” You answer, before looking at the woman that had an open expression on her face. Little nubs of her canines peaked out through her smile. She wasn’t nearly as terrifying as all the stories had led you to believe, “For what reason do you do that?”

“Pardon?” She cocks her head.

“For what reason do you call me that—‘Your Majesty’?” Being led by her out of the study, you’re being shown around the various hallways and artifacts that were just as grand. “My coronation is yet to be held, though it was supposed to be today…”

“Oh…” Utahime looks at you in slight confusion, “But you are our Queen.”

Your brows furrow, “I am yet to be the Queen of my kingdom yet-”

“You are the Queen of the Hybrids, Your Royal Majesty.”

.

.

.

You’d been slightly too harrowed to wonder just what the condition of ‘one night’ would entail. If you were to go that far…perhaps you’d expected for the consummation of your marriage.

Or whatever it was that hybrids had equivalent. 

You’d been ready for it, however, both with your knife and your will.

If you had to fuck Gojo Satoru, then so be it—at least, that had been what you’d thought. Before. Before you’d seen him on the altar, and now, there was a part of you that would gladly exchange the rites of flesh. 

And that scared you more than any legend.

Utahime was a wonderful guide around the palace, she explored every grand nook and cranny with you. The ballrooms. The libraries. The frozen fountains- yes, frozen. She took you from staircase down hallway down secret alleyways between bookshelves, leading you into grand halls with portraits of the Gojo family.

You stared quite longingly at those: white-haired, noble-faced hybrids that resembled Gojo in their species and strength. He looked more like his beautiful mother, you learned.

And something clenched in you as you remembered just why they weren’t here.

Looking at the cherub face of the blue-eyed heir in the portrait, you couldn’t help but ask Utahime- “What are the consummation traditions in your kingdom?”

She’d looked towards you slightly startled, “The mating traditions, Your Majesty? Why…the same as your human mating traditions, I suppose.”

You gulped, “And the King-”

“His Majesty would never force you into something that you do not wish to happen.” Utahime reaches out and holds your hand, you’re learning that it’s just as cold as her monarch’s. “Fear not for your safety in this kingdom, my Queen. Harm shall never fall upon you in the Kingdom of Hybrids.”

You trusted her- you didn’t know why, but you trusted her.

It had been past afternoon when you’d arrived at the North Palace, and well into the evening once you’d finished your tour. Thoroughly spent, your jaw had dropped once Utahime told you that it was just a few wings of the palace that’d been explored-

“Tomorrow, we may explore the towns. The people shall be overjoyed to meet their new Queen-” And then she’d stopped in the middle of her sentence, throwing a nervous look your way. “That is…if you so wish to stay past the conditions, Your Majesty.”

And you did not know how to answer her.

Later, after some reading in their vast libraries - far greater than even your own palace’s - you’d been led into a sprawling dining hall for dinner. 

It was a chamber that reminded you of Gojo’s study, though vertically longer to accommodate for the snaking table. Polished wood. Sparkling chandeliers. Paintings plastered across its oblong walls. Spread from nearly end-to-end of the royal room, you counted at least a hundred or so chairs on either side as you were bowed inside the great dining hall. Knights stood on guard with their weapons, though they didn’t seem to pose a threat.

The table was laden heavy with food, fantastical ice sculptures, and a fireplace: you wondered how those ice sculptures didn’t melt. Was this a work of Gojo’s powers, as well? Puddings and pastries. Truffles and rice. Steaks and vegetables. Sweet and sour.

Piled higher than your head.

Chocolates melted and crafted into all sorts of artworks that you didn’t even know was possible to do with such an ingredient. In the middle of the table sat a six-tiered wedding cake, proudly crowned with miniature fondant figures of Gojo Satoru and…you.

A cake like this would have taken well over two days - since your response - to create. And that’s not to mention the fact that he already knew what you looked like…

Just how long had he been planning this?

There was everything your heart could desire- and you meant that. You hadn’t taken Gojo up on his offer to make the kitchens privy to your preferences, and yet you were pleasantly surprised to find that almost all of the foods were…your favorites.

All your favorites.

How did they…

You’re being led to the chair positioned at the very end of the table - the head chair often reserved for the leading ruler. The King, in this case.

Only…Utahime pulls out the silver-tipped chair at the very end and gestures for you to sit there.

You?

You’re stopping short, “King Gojo—”

“Shall be sitting beside you, Your Majesty, worry not.” And you’re unsure whether you should be embarrassed that she’d assumed you missed him - rather than the fact that you were wondering when he’d make an appearance, claim that chair the way he claimed you. 

And as if to emphasize her point, she’s tapping at the chair right beside yours.

Not the one at the head of the table.

The one beside it.

Lower-tiered.

“His Majesty’s request.”

You’d never heard of a King who’d been happy to sit at a position lower than his Queen- let alone request for such a seating arrangement. 

Slightly trembling, you’re taking your seat nonetheless.

And just as soon as you’re settling in- the doors bang! wide open.

In hurries a ferrety man in spectacles, holding an agenda to his chest and bowing so low that his nose touches the floor. “Y-Your Majesty!”

“At ease.” You’re responding, somewhat wary.

“Ijichi…” Utahime grumbles, “What’s the meaning of this? You’re interrupting the royal couple’s dinner together.”

“I-I fear that’s exactly the problem, Your Majesty.” The man - Ijichi, it seems - turns to you with an expression that couldn’t have looked more apologetic if he tried. “I have been sent by His Majesty to inform you that he extends his deepest apologies, for he shan’t be able to attend the royal dinner tonight.”

You’re gripping the silver butter knife at your side, “Pardon?”

And he flinches as though he’s just been struck—“Forgive me! It seems that some ah- unavoidable circumstances have risen that make it somewhat…difficult for His Majesty to join Her Majesty tonight- th-though that’s not certainly not for a lack of want! And His Majesty is supremely upset over the fact, it’s simply…”

Ijichi looks to Utahime for help. In the far corner of the room, the knights shuffle on their feet at the tension.

With a cautious expression, the woman steps closer - and as soon as she’s within his proximity, Ijichi leans down to whisper something in her ear—and her expression melts into one of understanding. Disappointed, but understanding.

She turns to you with an equally apologetic expression, “My apologies, Your Majesty…”

Your heart jumps to your throat.

“The King is unable to attend tonight’s dinner.”

You don’t know why you’re disappointed. 

.

.

.

You admit that the dinner passed by in a blur - delicious, and yet still a blur. 

Perhaps if you don’t miss anything of this excursion, then you’ll at least think back on those delicacies fondly.

Although, you admit that Utahime - and even the ever-anxious Ijichi - had certainly grown on you. They kept you company throughout the rest of the dinner, and once you were finished the red panda hybrid escorted you to your royal quarters.

It was a vast chamber located not too far from Gojo’s study.

Even though most of the palace found itself composed of cold, hard stone—this room was special. It had the most delicate layers of paint spread across it, something you hadn’t seen before even during your tour - baby blue in color, with faint patterns of snowflakes etched into every corner. Gilded decorations on every piece of furniture. A fireplace against one wall. More books than you could ever read in your entire life - let alone single moon here. 

There was a balcony overlooking a befogged land that you could not discern, and a drop from it would have been fatal. 

What drew you in the most, however, was the painting.

Most chambers in the North Palace were decked with precious paintings - hand-crafted oils of color in silver frames, those that looked more valuable than a room full of treasure and perhaps just as ancient - for it seemed that King Gojo was a lover of the arts. Interestingly enough.

You wouldn’t have expected that of him.

But this one…this painting was the largest of them all.

It took up the space of one entire wall, which - according to your mental calculations - would have been thirty-two feet tall and eighty-eight feet wide. One side of your bedroom that was donning robes of oil paint—featuring the most picturesque vision of…your kingdom.

Your palace. Your people. Your dream as a monarch: seeing the people of your kingdom as happy as they should be.

The humans in this painting were hand-in-hand in the town square, dancing around a roaring bonfire. Around them were heaving tables laden with food, and behind- oh. Your eyes widened as you take in the painting even further - it wasn’t just the humans that were dancing with one another. There were hybrids, too.

Your bed was a sprawling four-poster, and you huddled in amongst the silk-covered pillows.

This was your one night with King Gojo Satoru.

The first and the last.

Your one and only.

But there must have been a reason for this marriage, for his condition- there must have been. A full moon circled high in the sky, and peace couldn’t have been so easy.

You kept your dagger underneath your pillow that night.

And so you slept—not as fitfully as one might have expected. 

When you wake up- it’s still nighttime.

You’re sitting up on the bed and attempting to blink your vision back. It must have been an hour, perhaps two, since you’d gone to sleep- and you hate to admit it, but that must have been the best hours of sleep you’d gotten in years.

You might not even have woken up at all had it not been for the thunderous sound of footsteps outside. 

Someone was running- no. Multiple people were running.

Heart battering against your chest, you’re grabbing the dagger out from underneath your pillow and getting onto your feet. You were wearing a thin layer of silk Utahime had bestowed upon you as a nightgown, but there was no time to consider propriety now - something was happening inside the North Palace. 

Quickly unlocking the latch upon those double doors, it’s dark enough in the corridors that you’re slipping past the personal guards stationed outside your chamber. And crowded enough that you could slot into the chaos unnoticed.

Attendants. Advisors. Knights.

Hybrids of all different types and varying degrees of urgency - from urgent to being nearly in tears - were trampling like a herd in the same direction down the corridor. 

You’re keeping your head down low as you fit into a sparse gap of space and let yourself be led to wherever it was they needed to be. Forwards. Down a hallway. Forwards. Forwards. 

Ultimately, you’re not travelling too far before heading down a high-ceiling hallway—the pathway leading up to a private chamber. And by the sheer luxury of this wing - and the constantly incremental paintings of the Gojo family - you’re guessing that this must be where the Hybrid King slept.

Something stirs at the pit of your stomach- did something happen to…?

No, you couldn’t let yourself think that.

Shaking your head free from such thoughts, you’re managing to squeeze past attendants and staff that stuffed every nook and alcove here like sardines. Everyone was fervid to get inside, and even more desperate to get out before too long—

Then…the slightest crack in the door.

Breath catching in your chest, you shoot your arm out to catch it before it closes. Warm light filters from inside, and even warmer air follows it - fighting against whatever hybrid attendant was attempting to close it, you’re managing to wrench it open far enough to push yourself within. 

Just as you’re thrust inside, you turn around and catch Utahime’s gaze- also pressed against one wall of the corridor. 

Her eyes widen as she realizes just who it is—and her mouth shouts out a silent ‘no-’ 

Those double doors slam! shut.

It’s a royal bedroom just as large as yours.

And you could go on describing all the polished pieces of furniture, and the draped blue curtains, and the chandeliers, and the books. One of the walls in his bedroom was covered in a painting, just as the wall in your room had been - though you’re not too focused on it right now. A carpet spread from underneath the king-sized bed and nearly to every corner of the room—it was a stone-cold white, stitched intricately in the Gojo family emblem. But that was exactly what caught your eye.

Not the carpet, no- the bed.

Not exactly the bed itself, but rather the heavy metal chains on either side of it. Like dungeon chains.

There were six rings - thick and composed of rusting iron, one being half the length of your body - fastened to both walls sandwiching the bed. Falling from them were chain-links, each one the size of your head and twice as hefty—snaking like boa constrictors along the chamber floor, the foot of the bed, on top of the mattress.

Each one was shackled to the hands and feet of Gojo Satoru.

Panting. Flushed.

Feverish.

Surrounded by some guards, Shoko, and the rest of her healers who kept pressing cold cloths to his forehead, wiping him down furiously. 

Bucking into the air with a husky groan- it makes the dungeon chains rattle as they’re tugged on. Hard enough to make the metal creeeeeak—!

You don’t know what more to gape at - the fact that he was strong enough to fight against six of those massive chains and nearly win, or the fact that Gojo was underneath a thin cover and…naked.

Something stirs between your legs.

And instantly-

Instantly, Gojo stills.

The healers take a startled step back, cold cloths suspended in their hands as they assess their silent King. 

But Gojo doesn’t mind them.

He’s sitting up properly on the mattress, eyes widened and locked on- oh.

Locked on you.

It makes you jolt.

For there was a harrowed look in his gaze - as though he’d just stumbled across a carnage site, might perhaps be tempted into creating one. And Gojo’s pupils were the size of pinpricks, the sea of blue around them somewhat glowing—were you going mad? Were they really glowing?

His beautiful face was expressionless and primal.

His head raises into the air and sniffs it-

And suddenly those pearly white teeth display in an animalistic growl.

One by one, the healers follow their monarch’s line of sight - and their lips part as they take you in. His human bride.

Shoko’s the first to take a step forwards, “Your Majest-”

“Out.”

A strange thrill runs through your body.

It’s not that Gojo’s voice was particularly loud, nor was it particularly threatening—but it makes every single hybrid inside the room bow. 

Falling to their knees. 

They’re nodding once.

And in the blink of an eye, the healers - and most of the guards - are jerking onto their feet and running out - barely even throwing you a glance. Those double doors crack open once more, and you’re realizing that the commotion outside had calmed—you get the strange feeling that if you were to turn around, you would see that every other hybrid there was kneeling, as well. 

You don’t know how you’re so sure - but you know he isn’t speaking to you. 

In mere moments, it’s only Shoko and Higuruma that remain at Gojo’s bedside. They look at you in concern, and then each other- opening their mouths to say something when—

“Out.”

Gojo’s sole command is followed by gales of wind that clatter the windows open and send the two hybrids toppling. They’re collapsing to the ground from the sheer force - ultimately being pushed up until the tips of your feet.

Their King needn’t say a word more for them to stumble onto their feet and make a break for it.

The doors close thunderously, though not nearly as loud as your racing heart.

The wind dies down as they’re leaving you alone with Gojo, and you’re wondering whether he even realized. Not a single waft of the gales had touched you somehow. 

You swallow.

It’s just you and him now.

Him and you.

And you’re not understanding where it came from, but you’re overwhelmed by the sudden feeling to walk over to him-

As soon as the thought manifests in your chest, you blink—

And Gojo Satoru’s standing right in front of you.

Towering figure. Heated pants.

Your dagger falls to the floor.

He was flushed as though burning from the inside out. 

You swear that he’s even larger than you remember him—and you do remember him being large in the first place. But Gojo’s size right now was nearly inhuman - he stood about a foot taller than before; and the tips of his fingers had elongated with predator-like claws, the canines of his teeth had grown even sharper. 

His fluffy patterned tail swishes agitatedly from side-to-side.

Nostrils flared as he drinks in your air.

Envelopes in it.

You’re hesitating before raising your eyes up to meet his- and a gasp catches in your chest at his contracted pupils. Like a snow leopard on the hunt.

He stares you down like his most delicious prey. 

And it should make you run- it should. But your body takes a stuttered step closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off of his body in feverish waves. 

You’re keeping your gaze confined to the area of his face n’ his sculptured chest, words picked carefully. “Satoru…”

“Leave.” But whatever was on the tip of your tongue washes away with his breathless tone- voice sibilant as though a prayer. “I need you to—fuck, I wish for you to-”

“I refuse.” And your response bewilders the both of you, “You’ve exhausted your requests of me. Are we not fulfilling the marriage contract?”

“We will- we have—” His blue eyes clench shut, as though he was holding himself back. Fists clenched firmly at his sides, they shake- “Fuck, this was not the planned course for our first meeting. Know that you are free to leave if you so wish - leave the chamber, leave the palace, leave the kingdom-”

“I will not breach the conditions-”

“I rescind the conditions.” 

Shock pumps through your body, “Pardon?”

“I wished to romance you, I wished to write to you- I wished to show you the beauty of my kingdom tonight but…those gloves- you made me…” He shakes his head, “War shall not prevail—we shall commence the peace negotiations without a moon spent together.” He’s slicking back his dampened white hair, “O-on the terms of an unforeseen illness, you may leave-”

“What sickness?” You demand.

“Rut.”

Oh.

Oh.

It was one of the preliminary lessons in your hybrid history classes: the rut. A period of intense pheromonal and sexual desire; during which the hybrid grapples with the physical, emotional, and pheromonal desire to mate. It was always a concept that intrigued you. For a hybrid, these ruts are best exhausted when spent with a partner, though unmated hybrids may choose to weather through the week independently. 

The mating period ends once the hybrid bites into the scent gland of their partner. 

Between hybrids.

So why were you feeling so feverish, as well?

You’re unsteady on your feet- and Gojo’s hands shoot out, but then surge back to his sides as though he thought better than to touch you when he was in this state. “Please-”

“I would like to spend the moon with you.” You’re blurting out before you can stop yourself, drunk on the heady scent of winter pine in the room—was it growing stronger? You look at him squarely, “As newly-weds do.”

His breath catches, “You are not aware what you ask of me-” Though his tail wraps around your ankle.

“I am.”

“You are not aware what you ask of yourself.”

“I am.” Insisting. 

Something deep inside you. Something deep inside you. Something deep inside you.

Fingers reaching up to the tie of your nightgown- before getting stopped instantly by Gojo’s hand. He pulls back with a hiss as though you burned—the pine fragrance grows even stronger inside the chamber. 

His voice cracks as he looks at you, “You…” Eyes blowing out ferally, “You humans are not built to handle a hybrid in rut. I shall easily ruin you-”

“Then so be it.” Your cunt twitches.

And Gojo sniffs the air as though he could smell it.

He moans.

And in a split-second you’re being tackled to the ground- pounced upon. As though you really were nothing but a pretty prey beneath his fingertips, Gojo spreads your back flatly against the carpeted ground—too far gone right now to even start thinking of the bed.

Hands caging either side of your head. Hot breaths wafting your features like a furnace.

He slots his toned, naked hips between your bent legs and ruts-

“Fuck.”

Before letting out the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard in your life - his spit-slicked lips fall open with it and stay open as he keeps pushin’ his trembling hips into yours. Glazed eyes clenching shut. Perspired head falling behind him. 

Again and again.

You’re feeling his thickened, throbbing erection press against your pussy through your thin nightgown. Openin’ up the crevice of your folds and massaging all along your outer cunt - because of how closely he was collapsed on top of you, you couldn’t make out just what his cock looked like. But you could feel the heat, you could feel the pulsing of his prominent veins that glissaded down the damp patch of your entrance and made you squeal—

“Y-Your Majesty-” You buck.

And he’s fucking pinning you down with his capped knees upon your legs. His bodyweight leaning on you. “Satoru.” He whispers breathlessly, eyes wide and somewhat dazed still. 

“Pardon?”

The hybrid reaches his hand across your body, “My mate shall call me Satoru.”

Mate…?

The fingers on his dominant hand snake down your front and grab a fistful of that satin nightgown you were wearing- before his claws extract and he’s teeeeearing straight through it. Ripping it into nothing but shreds that he’s throwing blindly over his shoulder. 

Soon enough, you’re left in nothing but the scraps of what had once been a decadent robe. And the coating of lust across your body.

The evidence was undeniable - even in the yolky yellow fireplace lighting up the bedroom, there was a lecherous glisten between your legs. Naked. Pulsing. 

A pretty gloss that makes Gojo take just one wide-eyed look- and gulp.

You think you can audibly hear the effect merely seeing your dampened cunt has on him, and it sends a thrill up your spine. The bed chambers only seem to be spiking in temperature.

A bead of glitterin’ slick drops from your tight hole, making you shiver as it falls vertically between your pussylips- only to be stopped by a single chaste kiss of Gojo’s swollen cockhead. He grasps his base using his right hand, motioning that plump, puckered tip to point around the orifice of your cunt.

He’s probing the reddened top of his shaft against your hole and letting it stretch just a lil’ bit- “Fuck.” You think that it should be you spewing out the profanities - but it’s Gojo instead. He growls. His blue peripherals roll to the back of his skull as he feels you clench around nothing. “Fuh-fuuuuck.”

“Shit—”

He dots at the pearly bead of slick.

He swirls it around your entrance.

He uses it to lacquer his already-glistening cock before reeling his hips back and pushing in-

You’re gasping, hands coming up to dig your nails into his broad back. “Sa-Satoru-”

And his jaw practically unhinges at the hot, heavenly feeling. “Oh heavens…” Muttering something primal at the back of his throat—“O-oh heavens.” He’s feeling the first few centimeters of his throbbing cock get suctioned in, before there’s a sudden tightness of resistance that makes jerk his hips back and push once more- “Oh my Queen—”

“Satoru…” Just about the only thing that you can say, like a frenzied mantra. Eyes shuttering, “Shit, I think you must know-”

The knobbly edge of his thumb veers between your pussylips, stretchin’ them apart and taking a good look in-between. He pumps even harder - “My Queen—please take it.”

Mewling.

He’s tugging those dampened lips even further apart, “Please fit in.” Only growing more and more desperate the longer your cunt refuses to gobble him up whole, “Please- please fit in–”

“Satoru- fuck.”

Fingertips trembling where they were glued to the side of your pussy, stretching your entrance. Thwack after thwack. “Please take- me-”

“You must-” And he was now hammerin’ his hips into you in short, rapid semi-thrusts just to see himself swallowed up. So tight that it felt nearly impossible. So tight that a single drop of crimson escapes you, “-know that-”

“My Queen-”

“-this is my first time.”

There’s a ragged exhale that gusts across your features, making your eyes fall shut at just how scalding hot it was feeling - molten inside. Every bit of his skin in contact with yours felt as though he was burning up—“Oh.” That pretty, spit-glossed mouth of his falls - he ruts once more. “Oh.”

Your toes curl at the swabbin’ intrusion - Gojo was just so big that it was hard for you to take him. Bigger than any normal human.

And you’re feeling it even more once he’s pulling out.

With the most lecherous squelch! his erection plops out of your geysering orifice and ends up laid between your shivering thighs. 

“I see…” Gojo hoarsely mutters, eyes entrenched in a staring competition with your pussy. “Mine, too.”

“Pardon?” You lean up onto your elbows instantly.

“I believe I said—” He trails off, “Mine, too.”

A thousand and one questions are whirling through your mind - everything from why Gojo hadn’t partaken in a mating period prior to this, to why he’d chosen you—

And then you’re blinking.

And suddenly you’re finding yourself sprawled out across his king-sized bed.

Head laid gently against the numerous luxurious pillows, your legs spread apart as though you’d never moved from the floor. You’re faced with the slight inertia of the entire room shifting so suddenly- and it takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that he’d just teleported the two of you once more.

You’re clamoring up to rest upon your elbows, and staring down at the hybrid that’d slotted between your legs now.

His soft strands tickle your body. Gojo’s already shifted until his face was level with your navel - his hot breath wafting across your skin. It sends goosebumps skittering across your middle n’ all the way down to your cunt—

Something that he’s leaning in and sniffing.

Breathing in. 

And then Gojo trundles out a low, animalistic growl.

You feel your hips bucking up in response and you’re not quite sure as to why-

But you don’t have the time to ponder upon it for too long before Gojo dips the tip of his looooong, luscious tongue between your pussy’s slit. 

He’s sticking just the very edge of his tastebuds fitting between your folds and slide-slide-sliiiiiding down that dampened crevice. Up and down. Slipping between the two and slurping away the dewy droplets of sap that cling onto your cunt-

Gojo halts as the first taste of your pussy trickles into his mouth.

And then he’s gasping his parched lips open- already sounding as though he’s run a fucking field. “So this-” Letting those deep vibrations of his voice scatter right between where you were most sensitive, “-this is what my mate tastes like.”

There it was again—mate. 

Your body thrums, taking a strange pleasure in being titled that by the hybrid. 

“Wh-what do you mean by m—oh.” Moan turning into a yelp as his fluffy rosette-decorated tail - one you hadn’t even realized was snaking ever-closer to your body - wraps around your right thigh and wrenches you closer to his hungry body. You stare into his eyes- starving.

Plastering his lips against your other ones as though he was fucking famished- Gojo’s nose digs between the wet slit of your core. Delving in-between. “My mate.” The only thing he can manage to utter. The pointed tip pushes on the nub of your clit as though a button, grindin’ away deftly as he’s making out. “My mate, my mate, my mate—”

“Satoru—” You’re crying out, “I-I’ve never done this before…is it supposed to feel this good?”

“Hmmm…” He’s clearly leering against your sensitive parts- and you can feel it. The hardness of his pearly whites tracin’ all over your entrance - “I haven’t partaken in such activities either, is this kitty supposed to taste this sweet?”

You gasp. “You can’t just utter such obscenities-”

To which he pays no attention before rubbin’ his flushed cheek along the inner parts of your thighs—Gojo leans in takes a gooooood whiff of where your pheromones were most saturated. Eyes falling shut as he indulges himself in it, and once he’s opening them back up you swear those pupils of his have transformed into hearts. “Is this kitty supposed to smell this sweet?”

You’re simply bucking in shock at that.

Elongated claws tapping warningly against where he’s holding the right side of your waist, “Settle, my mate.”

And he can smell it- the way your cunt grows even more aroused, even sweeter, at being given this command. Paired up perfectly with your pet name.

That’s when he decides that he’s had enough of lappin’ away at the numerous layers of slick that polished your cunt - he’s had enough.

He wasn’t some little kitty.

Gojo Satoru was a big cat, and that meant he has a big tongue.

Big enough to drown himself completely n’ utterly silly in the sweetened juices leaking out of you. In a mere few moments, he’s licked you completely dry. And he’s spreadin’ away the inside of your rim, scouring his tongue inside for more, more, more—

Long, thorough slashes inside your cunt.

“Sh-shit—” You’re babbling away stupidly, back arching off of the mattress. Ending up draggin’ your pussy even further against Gojo’s mouth - knocking against his nose and making him take your restless body on happily. “Shit, your tongue-” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “-it’s sho big—”

“All the better to taste you, dear.” It’s a wonder that Gojo could detach himself from your pussy even for those brief seconds to answer.

Thrusting right between those swollen pussylips of yours- right into that quivering hole. He swirls his thickened muscle around a few times, “And y-you’re so…” You could feel the texture of his uniform, ridged tastebuds molding to the sides of your walls. “-fuck, your tastebuds are so pointed.”

“All the better to feel you, dear.” But of course, if you were in any better state of mind then perhaps you would’ve remembered that snow leopards in particular possessed tongues with specialized tastebuds. Longer. Sharper.

Yet right now, the only thing you’re thinking of is just how good it feels to have Gojo Satoru fuck you with said tongue.

He was just so looooooong and thick. He stuffs you to the brim already.

Spreading and stretchin’ his tongue against your walls- as far inside as it could possibly go. Quite audibly, you swear you can hear the sounds of his wet muscle expanding against that snug channel. “A-and, Satoru…” To him, your mewls sound like the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “-you’re so ravenous.”

He chuckles out something feral - something octaves higher than his usual baritone - against the front of your pussy. Pulling away from it with a wet smack! “All the better to…” And you know the strangely predatory tone of his voice shan’t bode well for you. And you know the way he fucking purrs—yes, purrs as he nears your pussy once more shan’t bode well for you. “-eat you, my dear.”

And then Gojo’s slamming every inch of his tongue back inside you - every fucking inch.

Except, this time…there’s a clear motivation tinglin’ at the honed tip of muscle. You could practically taste it in the soft sizzling wads of spittle that kept on leaking out of you. 

Gojo was tonguing at your pussy like a maddened man- letting his nose crush against your clit, letting his canines nip slightly on your bloated folds. He plasters your cunt against his chin, head angled juuuuuust the exact number of degrees it’d take for him to propel his tongue forwards and hit a particular spot inside you.

Your feet anchor onto the luxurious mattress. Your back forms the perfect curvature against the bed.

You’re letting your moans pour out of you twofold as you throw your head back n’ forcefully wrench your hips forward. “There—” Registering, it takes a second for your mind to catch up to the fact that Gojo’s lengthy hybrid tongue has just rammed into your g-spot - with just his tastebuds. “Y-you hit my…I didn’t know that was even—oh, Toru.”

“My Queen.” Hoarse. Hissing. His tone was completely fucked as he uses his powerful tail to tug you even further against his slackened mouth, “My mate.”

“Toru, that feels too-”

“Let this kitty cream on my mouth.” Even his high cheekbones burn a faint crimson at the declaration, though he doesn’t deny nor retract it. “Let this, kitty—” Come to think of it…the snow leopard hybrid was purring as he’s makin’ out between your legs. “-let this kitty cum…”

“Gonna—” Your voice starts hatching at the back of your throat, “G-gonna cum-”

Spurred on by your affirmations, those slashes at your g-spot grow even faster. More frequent.

Deeper.

There’s a tingly buzz coating your outer pussy at the rapid movements of his tastebuds- back n’ forth, back n’ forth, back n’ forth. And you’re feeling your pleasure start to ember even more powerfully as he keeps on planting constant hits and thrashes.

Tugs and pushes.

Hit after hiiiiiiit upon your poor g-spot.

Soon enough, your vision starts to overload with sultry white stars of bliss. And Gojo smells the cloying pheromones on you before you even register it- but you’re cumming.

All over his tongue.

It’s a wave of euphoria that starts from the tips of your toes and explodes where his tongue was diggin’ between your pussylips- before ultimately shooting through every valve, blood vessel, and capillary within you. Taking over you.

Toes curling. Tears shooting up to your eyes.

This might just have been even better than those long, lonely nights beneath your royal covers - when you’d slip in a finger or two and fervently hope that your attendants didn’t need you for anything.

You’re letting out the prettiest few echoes of his name- and you don’t even care who hears you right about now. Because the one person that commanded them all - this entire land - had his head between your legs and his tongue lappin’ away hungrily.

As though he hasn’t had a proper meal in months—you’re suddenly remembering with a jolt that he’d missed dinner tonight.

Gojo manages to probe your most sensitive spot during peak after peak.

Rush upon rush of dopamine flooding your body- he was sure to drag his textured tastebuds along your most precious caverns when those times came. And perhaps if your mind was any less muddled, he’d be able to tell you that he’s timing them perfectly using the spikes of your heady pheromones whenever you felt too good - but he was happy to merely listen to your babble right now. To fuck you stupid with his mouth.

He was tugging aside your pussylips and scraping every inch of your walls as though he wanted his entire nation to hear you—“Mine.” The pointed tip of his tongue tickles your g-spot, “My mate-”

Those mere few droplets of slick you were letting out wasn’t enough for Gojo, and he’s using the unyielding restraint he had on your ankle to keep on gyrating your hips. Manhandling your hips. Grinding your wet pussy against his mouth.

His maw slurpin’ every orifice-

Spreading aside your velvety walls as though he wished to go even deeper. And he’s reaching up his right hand to push aside those swollen lips of yours and—

“Sh-shiiiiit—” You’re just barely surfacing from your last orgasm when you feel something cold n’ clammy sliding down your swollen pussylips. 

Claws retracted. The knobbly tips of Gojo’s fingers spread you open—and you’re just starting to wonder which set of hands this is…when you feel the frigidness of his fucking wedding ring probe inwards. It was a band of pure silver far colder than even his own hands- contrasting thoroughly against the heat of your pussy.

You’re whining as though you’re wounded (though it was the complete opposite of feeling as such) as the ice-cold sensation of it circles your sensitive hole a few times.

Gojo teases your entrance before he’s properly sinking in. Taking his time—not at all.

Did you really think that a hybrid in heat took his time? Did you really think that a hybrid in heat didn’t have the patience to merely take his ready mate?

And that was exactly what the King was doing with his perfectly prolonged digits - already having stretched out your cunt enough that he doesn’t have to hesitate before plunging in two fingers into your wet cavern. “Wait- you’re still not done?”

His long lashes flutter, “Would you like me to be, Your Majesty?”

“N-not exactly, it’s just…” And you almost feel shy admitting this to him - even though you’ve already come…so far, there were still some etiquette lessons drilled into you. “-I thought I’d be getting Your Majesty’s cock by now.”

And that makes him stall.

That makes his doughy fingertips lurch up and hit the roof of your cunt—accidentally locating your g-spot with just a bit of swerving.

“Oh.” Gojo’s jaw drops a bit- and those dimples make an appearance once more. “Worry not, my Queen.”

There’s the most long, lecherous sluuuuuurp! as he then pulls his fingers out.

“A beautiful creature such as yourself shan’t be fucked like any other lowly human.” The hybrid leers up at you with a half-lidded gaze, and those fingers of his twitch excitedly at your entrance. He murmurs thickly, “I’m going to breed you.” 

Slam! 

And that’s all it takes for his fingers to stuff you in every nook n’ cranny. 

Those mountainous knuckles of his start up like a battering ram between your legs, and no matter how much you’re squirming at the overstimulation- you can bet on Gojo’s tail to hold you in place. Stronger than it looked with its unassuming demeanor. 

Every time you’re being lurched backwards by the sheer force of his fervid thrusts, the King drags you back down using his appendage.

Leaving you not an ounce of mercy as he’s swabbin’ his rounded fingertips into your g-spot—so long that he’d be able to tease that particular bundle and then glide down to swat your cervix. 

Your eyes bulge at the feeling of his intrusion, back arching. “O-oh my god—” 

“Satoru, you mean.”

“Sato—pardon?” Tears layering over your peripherals, your vision’s starting to become hazy nonetheless. And a shiver runs down your spine as you’re watching his handsome face lean closer to your dripping wet core once more.

All the excitement of Gojo hookin’ his fingers in n’ ruining you from the inside meant that your slick was overflowing. Excess that he leans down to lap his tongue over as though the sweetest nectar- and maybe it really was.

Gojo’s flattened tongue starts rolling the most lewd kitty licks over your throbbing clit—holding eye contact with you all the while. “My mate.”

“Satoru-” You yelp.

“My mate—” The constant rhythmic slamming against your g-spot was starting to make your g-spot feel tender. Perhaps it has even started bruising - perhaps you were hurtling into your second orgasm faster than you might’ve thought. 

And it’s with his upper half bowed over your pussy - with his canines gnawin’ away on your clit - that Gojo pushes you into cumming. Again.

He makes yet another zap of euphoria take over your body- so lightheaded now that it felt as though you could keel over at the softest breeze. Your thighs tremble. Your legs fight to wrap around his head.

And Gojo’s taking such utter pleasure in stopping your squirming hips from moving- from smoochin’ and smoochin’ the slender tips of his fingers against your sweetest spots.

“Hafta make my- ngh, mate feel good.” He’s whispering, almost to himself. Gojo runs the plumpness of his fingertips aaaaaaall across your insides, quirking them perfectly when he has to run you through a peak of your high. “Hafta-”

“Cumming—” Too late, you’re bellowing out. “I’m c-cumming, Toru.”

“I know.” He responds simply. “This kitty told me.”

And you swear that’s enough to push you straight over another edge - another high. Sparks of friction breaking out across your skin. As Gojo stimulated your clit n’ your deepest innards to elongate this current one, and past that into another one, and another one, and another-

“Cum—fucking cum, kitty kitty.” He hums. 

Four- yes, four of his fingers pushing aside your slick-glazed walls now. 

By the time you’re letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, you’re completely and utterly spent. Exhausted. Unable to do anything but lay yourself spread-eagle on the duvet, you’re raising your head weakly to look down at Gojo.

He pulls off of your clit with a lecherous pop! 

A few thin strings of spittle still connect you to his mouth, “Brace yourself, my mate.”

“Brace…?” And as he straightens from his position at your feet - from his position worshipping your pussy at your feet - you’re letting your jaw drop. “Oh.”

Because it was justified for him to ask you to brace yourself.

Hell, you might just not make it out alive if you didn’t brace yourself. 

You’d already known that Gojo was considerably big from his time ruttin’ against you on the carpeted floor like some animal. But what you didn’t know was just what he looked like exactly. 

Large.

Lavished in veins.

It was expected that Gojo would be bigger than a human man - or, at least, what you’d assumed a human man would average based upon your sparse knowledge from anatomy books - but it’s just how much bigger than made your jaw drop. For he was comfortably around eight inches, perhaps even veering into nine.

Seeing the sheer girth of his base was enough to make your thighs squeeze together- squelch! You’d underestimated just how wet you’d gotten.

Plump tip furiously swollen n’ agitated - the merest breeze was enough to make him dollop out a generous serving of his precum. It was flushed a shade of pink that matched the blush upon Gojo’s cheeks as he took in your staring.

Vermicular veins. Throbbing circumference. 

And then there were his pretty balls - so full. Decorated along his v-line with a spattering of snow-white hair.

And you found yourself admitting that Gojo Satoru was strangely—pretty. 

All the way down to his cock.

You swallow, “S-so?”

“Pardon? And so?” The King cocks his head in cute confusion.

His ancient bedframe then creeeeeaks as you’re lifting your hips up, “Aren’t you going to breed me like you promised, Your Majesty?”

He flinches as though he’s just been struck.

Oh…hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to poke the bear? Or in this case, the snow leopard? Nevermind that now, however, because it was far too late for it - given you’d found yourself married to one. 

To the beast that bears his teeth carnally upon your provocation.

To the monster that slots his hips between your thoroughly jittery legs and gives your cunt a gooooood spankin’ with his ruddied tip.

To Gojo Satoru who runs his twitching tip down the forefront of your pussy a few times before he’s spreading apart your pussylips and push-push-puuuuushing. Sinking in his teeth into his lower lip as he sinks his cock into you—and immediately, tears spurt to his eyes.

Gojo’s barely easing an inch between your swollen folds before he’s fucking sobbing-

“It- it feels—” He’s clawing out a few wretched moans from the back of his throat. “It feels s-so—”

“So—?” You’re attempting to coax out of him. This was his first time just as much as yours, and although you might not know much about hybrid mating rituals, one thing was for sure - Gojo was extra, extra sensitive tonight.

“So g—ngh.” Choking those words straight back into his throat- he’s just barely managing to fit his plump, reddish tip in. It was throbbing against your walls and slippin’ inside with the help of your slick. “How can it feel so good?” He hisses.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “Pardon? Y-you’re asking me- hck! how?”

“How.” As though no other explanation was needed. Gojo’s fucking into you in shallow, short thrusts—almost nothing. Barely squeeze-squeeze-squeezing the first thickened segment of his shaft inside before he’s met with the resistance of your tight channel- and then he’s pulling back with a pained groan as if it killed him to detach himself from the glutinous embrace of your pussy.

And the more n’ more he’s feeling you—the more he’s utterly breaking upon entering your warmth. “Is there magic that you use? I-is there a spell you’ve put me under?” His grip on your waist trembles.

“No…” You whimper, “And for what reason…”

“For i-it should not be possible for a kitty to feel so…” He groans. Gojo’s eyes are fluttering shut once you give his throbbing girth a little clench, and when he opens them back up again you’re finding those sky-blue peripherals to have been covered with a few layers of tears. “-so delicious.”

“You make it sound as though you wish to- ngh, feast upon me.”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

The hybrid edges his perspired head closer to yours, letting the tips of his white bangs tickle your skin. “For what else must newly-weds do on the night of their wedding?”

That silver wedding ring glints on his left hand - both due to the quality of the metal, and due to the fact that it was still covered in the remnants of your sweet juices. 

Gojo notices this, too.

And without a single warning, he’s reaching his hand up and sucking off the glaze of slick. Looking you straight into your dilated pupils as he does so.

It sends a carnal throb down to your cunt that he sniffs in the air-

And then everything’s happening at once.

Gojo’s jolting, Gojo’s grasping both of your pretty legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Hands upon either side of your limbs n’ wrangling them easily as he bends his upper half down looooow—kissing his sweaty forehead to yours.

The sudden change in positions makes you keen. “A-and you’re completely sure you’re inexperienced, Toru?”

“Promise, my mate.” He exhales into your mouth. “I’d never take another but you.”

And though the gesture had started off sweet…the further his mazin’ tip scoured in, the sharper his canines grew against your poor wobbly lips. The stronger his body seemed to grow in response to pinning your needy hips down and shoooooooving rude cock inside-

“Take it.” Gojo snarls into the crook of your neck, “Take it.”

“Please—” Being pushed constantly up towards the mahogany headboard.

“Take- oh.” Absent-mindedly, he wraps his powerful tail around your left thigh once more. Stopping you from being jostled back and forth because of the sheer force of his rovering hips- hips that were just hungry to feel his mate warped around his entire, rock-hard cock.

And you wonder whether he even realized.

Because if you thought it was far-fetched to assume that Gojo Satoru was breaking on your pussy just from the ruined state of his voice, then you’d be sorely mistaken.

The longer he’s tunneling between your sodden pussylips, the more n’ more he’s less the composed gentleman you’d been married to at the altar. “Take it-” To be quite honest, you’d be comfortable stating that he was becoming more hybrid than human the longer he was in lecherous contact with the wet cavern of your cunt. “Take it, take it, take it—please.”

Tears falling down his pretty cheeks.

The longer his thrusts became, the more hidden crevices inside you that he was opening up. You’d been completely right to ogle Gojo’s massive cock- because right now it felt like he was splitting you in half. 

In the best way.

“You need to take it, sweetheart—” Gojo damn near whimpers, “You n-need to take your mate’s cock…”

He was straightening out the smallest crevices at your innards, he was digging his claws deeeeep against the sides of your thighs. Pulling you back after every thrust.

And it’s not long before Gojo finds himself completely bottoming out.

Letting his divot baaawl out a few ribbons of pre that slick towards your womb. Letting his bulbous, blushin’ tip thud! away at the very back of your cervix. 

The silken bedsheets are bunching up where Gojo’s knees were scrambling to get even closer to the bottom of your pussy. Attempting to push his probin’ cockhead even deeper inside your sponge-covered depths, Gojo’s practically falling over himself to bend you in half.

To bend and to bend.

To thrust and to thrust-

The bed creaks in a cacophony that accurately represents just how he’s fucking you like he’s furious. Body burnished in heat. Hissing and snarling between his clenched fangs.

Those unfairly attractive hips of his were affected, too, because they’re starting to stutter forwards as though he’s just found heaven inside of you. Reeling his hips aaaaaall the way back in reverse - until his rounded, reddened tip was the only thing holding your entrance open. 

And then Gojo wastes no time before pounding himself inside all the way till the hilt.

The very hilt. 

You’re squirming at the patch of his white, white hair that scratches your pretty clit. “A-and about the breeding thing…”

“Hmmmm?”

“Are you really going to fuck me- ngh, pregnant, Toru?”

Awwwww—how cute. Those glowing azure eyes of his widen in amusement- or perhaps something else entirely that you weren’t able to pinpoint. He leans in with a simpering smile, “Fuck you pregnant? How crass.”

“N-ngh—” Your head throws back at the feeling of his globular cockhead lining down your g-spot. He ends up rubbin’ over that particular bundle of nerves for a few seconds, before glissading a hit straight to your womb-

“I’m going to make you my mate, my Queen.”

“Oh-”

“Officially.”

You’re unsure what exactly such an arrangement between hybrids would entail—but all you know is that you want it. Badly. 

A primal desire deep-rooted into your very being, one that you couldn’t explain even if you tried - it was from the depths of your soul, pouring outward in every ribbony wire of slick that you were letting out. All for Gojo Satoru. Clinging onto Gojo Satoru.

It’s coating his thickened cock in numerous layers that glisten underneath the pale lighting of a royal chamber, splatterin’ between your two bodies as his frenzied pace only accelerates. “Sa-Satoru—”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

It always sent such a shocking thrill across your body to realize that he was the one referring to you like that - perhaps your most formidable foe yet. 

And the massive bedframe creaks as you’re raising your hips up to meet his- the constant smack-smack-smacking of skin on relentless skin growing in pitch and volume. “I need it.” Looking at him through your tear-drenched lashes, “I need it s-so badly—”

“What is it?” He breathes out in an almost desperate tone. Gojo presses his lips to yours and kisses you in a way that was so fucking filthy—he’s flickering his tongue in and out, fishing out the sweet wads of your saliva. Before leaning his head back a bit and spitting between your wobbling lips - claiming every spot inside you that he wanted to. “What is it that you wish for, my Queen?”

Before anything else, his right hand then snakes between your two sweaty bodies.

Familiarly locating your cute clit and giving a few niiiiice rolls between his index and his thumb.

“Tell me—” He responds. He begs. “Tell me what it is your heart desires-” His sentences and syllables being punctuated by a solid slam against the back of your pussy every time. “Tell me, and I shall move mountains and heaven for you, my mate.”

And after such a declaration, a part of you almost feels embarrassed about the next words out of your mouth—“I want you to…cum inside me, Toru.”

He jolts. “Sweetheart, are you aware-”

“Not that.” Gojo answers - and the sudden leer that follows is something that makes your lips part. Something that was certainly not going to bode well for you or your poor pussy…“Sweetheart, are you aware that-”

And before he’s finishing that particular sentence, Gojo reaches down and gently clasps your dominant hand in his own.

He tugs it down between his legs-

To where you’re feeling the smooth gliiiide down his erect shaft—down every single curve, crevice, and vein. He was just so long that this made you squirm. Ultimately, you’re ending up with your fingertips pressed against the very start of Gojo’s hilt, where the carpet of his white hair was just ending.

And you’re wondering just what it is he was trying to oh-so-lecherously make you feel when…

When your palm pushes up against something so very thick and swollen at the base of Gojo’s cock. And you’re just gasping-

“A-are you aware of the effect you have on me, Your Majesty?” Gojo’s ragged tone permeates your hearing, punctuated by the constant thrashes n’ bucks of his hungry cock. Inside, inside, inside. “Are you aware that this is how you make me feel?”

He crushes your hand even further against that extra swollen portion of his erection, “And h-how exactly…”

He falters, “Pardon?”

“How exactly is…this, Toru?”

“How exactly?” He’s hissing through his teeth, tone wavering unsteadily. He sounds ruined, he sounds shattered—he sounds gone. There’s almost a sense of amusement in his tone as though you were pulling on his leg - he bores deeeeply into your eyes whilst he fucks you. “How exactly—?” 

“Y-ye—oh.”

Slam!

At that very moment, he’s rammin’ his hips into yours so hard that the skin around his pelvis reddens. Stings. 

And Gojo himself can’t help but let his head fall backwards with a guttural hiss, those pretty white brows of his knotting—“Fuh-fuck.” Before starting to rut down in even sloppier pushes of his firmed-up cock.

Hard.

Fast.

Your ass cheeks were practically refusing to have contact with the bedspread below. Just bent that far. 

The question he’d asked you earlier had been a rhetorical one - though that doesn’t stop Gojo himself from pistoning into you as though he was attempting to fuck the answer out of you. As though he was hoping the globular edge of his shaft would reach your pretty brain, n’ swerve around a bit to ultimately activate whatever part of you there was that’d understand. 

To flick a switch on - something carnal. 

Once you’ve been pounded utterly stupid- Gojo presses down with his mazing cockhead until you’re filled up to the very hilt. And you can feel the swollen ring at his base start to relax against the front of your puckered pussylips, “What you need to know is…this is a knot, sweetheart.”

“A knot?” Babbling through your tears.

“A knot.” Gojo affirms, “And do you know what hybrids do to their mates using their knots?”

Shaking your head.

“First, we claim our mates.” He’s draggin’ his roughened thumb down between your sultry pussylips and rolling over your clit. If you were in any clearer a state of mind right now, perhaps you’d have noticed that he was spelling out his first fucking name on top of that swollen nub. “First, we fuck them until they can’t speak—can’t move—can’t do anything but beg for more.”

You’re bucking upwards greedily, and in response he’s letting out a growl. “Y-yes, and?”

“Then we let them cum a few cute times—” He’s giggling at the way your mouth drops in realization - he was doing the exact same thing to you.

Was technically, still doing the exact same thing to you with the way he’s stimulating every fibre of your being. “And then-”

“Then we get them in a cute- hah, mating press.” His fluffy tail swooshes around before looping around your left thigh and tightening, veering dangerously close to the in-betweens of your legs. As if he was sharing his most precious secret in the world with you, Gojo leans dooooown until his lips were at your ear- “Then we cum so much inside them that they can’t even breathe without feelin’ me all inside your pretty kitty.”

Sobbing, “Th-then—?”

“Then…” The King’s reeling his powerful hips backwards, all the way until he’s nearly pulled out. Only the better to fuck you with…“Then m’fucking you with my fat knot until you can’t even think about letting my cum go to waste, my mate.”

“Oh—”

And with one hand braced upon the right side of your head - the other furiously toying with your perked clit - Gojo’s striking your pussylips in constant thwacks! Thwack! after thwack!

Trying to get his knot to fit inside.

Gojo’s vein-covered cock massaging your walls in such a frenzy just feels so good- “O-oh my god…” You’re babbling out, “Toru, m’gonna cum again.”

“Good.”

“Toru, m’gonna cum now—”

“Good.”

Those half-lidded blue eyes of his were locked on every expression you were making - even the tiniest shifts and twitches. His nostrils flare once you’re feeling your stomach give into the surges of pleasure shooting up from your cunt—and the hybrid seems to know before even you do when you’re crash-landing straight into your nth high of the night.

You’ve seriously lost count.

“C-cumming…” You mewl out weakly- hands coming up to clasp onto his sweaty head. Pressing your lips against his as he fucks you through every zap of pleasure. “Feels so good- ngh, feels so good—”

“Is that so?” He harkens, “Is that so, Your Majesty?”

“Never felt anything better-”

Eventually, your high rises and falls faster than it has before - solely due to the sheer number of times tonight. It’s nothing but the splash of dopamine that engulfs your body and leaves it sizzling with pleasure moments afterwards.

Even the slightest rub-a-dub of Gojo’s veiny patterns leaves you gaping. Those aftershocks were so strong that it makes your eyes tear up—“I need it.” 

Before long, Gojo feels you grab onto a handful of his perspired hair and haul him even closer. And he can’t deny the way that makes his swollen tip twitch just a little harder inside you-

“I need you to c-cum inside me…” You’re pleading up at him, “Need you to- ngh, mate me, Toru.”

“Oh…” After a few more sloppy strikes, he’s letting his tail drift up from your legs to your abdomen. Just where your spine ended, you’re feeling that powerful appendage of his push up on your body and arch your hips up a bit further. “Then brace yourself, my mate.”

And it takes only a single, slammin’ thrust for him to empty out his wads of cum.

Bucketload upon bucketload that he’d been waiting to pour into you for soooooo fucking long now. Thick. Treacly. Those constant ribbons of cum web your insides like a flood, splashin’ around and helping him reach your womb in no time.

It’s just so hot and wet.

It’s just bloating up those poor pussylips of yours- before the man himself eases down his pace to better end up pushin’ those wettened wads inside.

You could physically feel the flared ridge of his mushroom tip—spreading apart those gluey walls of yours and fucking his cum even deeper. Deeper. “Fuck.” Clinging onto every nook n’ hidden cranny inside you as you’re getting utterly stuffed—straight to the brim. It’s already starting to froth outwards, “Fuck-”

“Settle, my mate.” Gojo’s dragging you in with his fluffy white tail, ears flattened in pleasure. It takes a single tug for him to jerk you down- “Shhhhhhh shhh shh, settle.”

“I’m- I’m trying—”

“We’re not even halfway done yet.”

“Pardon?”

It’s the last thing you’re hearing before Gojo jerks his hips forward and fucks his knot past that first ring of your entrance - only about halfway through.

The Hybrid King has to use his hand upon your clit to stretch your pussylips apart- to ease your elastic hole to the side just a bit before he’s siiiiiiiinking his thickened base inside. It takes a few tries - a few animalistic bucks - for him to finally fit his knot between your legs with the loudest slurp. “Got it—”

Gojo’s hissing breath cascades down the front of your body, and his clammy head drops into the crook of your neck.

“G-got you.”

Before you know it, you’re feeling the sharp punctures of his canines against your swollen scent glands. Those sensitive bumps against the side of your neck - you’d noticed them growing more and more inflamed throughout the course of the night, and they’re just so volatile as Gojo sinks his leopard-like fangs in.

You feel something deep inside you pop!

Your scent gland. Or whatever it was that humans had similar…

And he holds you there like this - like a predator with his teeth dug into the throat of his prey - until both your waves of bliss have completed. Until he’s emptied his swollen balls inside of you, and he’s completely n’ utterly sucked dry by the wettened warmth of your pussy.

You’re squirming at the feeling of his heaping puddles of ivory deep inside you—“T-Toru.”

Gojo finally pulls off with a heated pwah! and stuffs his face into the crook of your neck. “Yes, my mate?”

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Now you were officially his mate. 

His knot was pulsing deep inside you, softening ever-so-slightly as the moments pass.

You’re running your hands through his perspired air, “I just wanted to know…” Wording your sentence carefully, your sentiments hidden. “Why m-”

“Who else would it be but you?” He’s interrupting you instantly. Immediately, Gojo pulls away and peers at you with his widened eyes—“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but in this life and every other…” He grasps your hand and presses his pinkish lips to the back of it, “-this lowly hybrid has always been fated to be yours.”

“Every other?” You ask with bated breath.

“Every other.” He affirms. “In every life, we were meant to find one another…” And he looked almost shy admitting such a thing—“We hybrids…we can feel it. Though for you humans, it may not be so strong.”

“Oh.” Your mouth drops softly.

“But even if we weren’t…” Gojo finally tears his eyes off of you- as though it pained him to not have you before his gaze for even a mere moment. “—I would have found you if it tore down the Earth.”

And then you’re turning with him.

Following his line of sight.

Right to the wall of his bedroom that you’d noticed had been painted before- but never noticed exactly with what upon it—

It was a painting of you.

More specifically, of a landscape from what you’d assumed to be this very bedroom: the sprawling valleys and fields that led up to your kingdom. The thorn barrier that separated him from you. Though no barrier could ever possibly hide the spiral of your wing, the blinking light that you’d put out every night - hoping, just hoping that someone would see it and answer.

How had you not noticed this before?

Perhaps, in your own way, you’d been searching for him, too.

“I would like to stay, Satoru.” You breathe, as if a secret. “I would like to stay- and I would also like for you to love my kingdom just as much as I shall love yours.”

“Then it shall be done.” He presses his forehead to yours, “Revenge has never been my strong suit.‘

Unbeknownst to yourself, you’ve teared up- and Gojo reaches down to gently wipe those hot tears away. He murmurs deeply, “My mate…”

“Yes, my husband?”

“We’re going to rule the world.”

You’re learning two more things about hybrids in the succeeding hour. 

The first being that they really did have a particular talent for the arts - Gojo especially, considering that he’d been the one to paint most of the artworks in the palace. Including this one.

The second being that ruts last for a week.

A/N. HYBRIDS AND ROYALTY AUS MY TWO FAV THINGS-

today’s no exception. but today, you’ve unceremoniously been dumped an entire week’s worth of work because your manager just resigned the last week and decided no, he will not give this company any more of his time so he disappeared a few days ago. with a mountain of things due. and who else for management to dump it on than his one and only trusty right-hand woman?

the clock’s showing 11pm. you sigh. you really should’ve just said no and threw in your own resignation.

you expect there to be just you, because who should work at ungodly hours like this? and yesterday, that was really the case. just you, the only light in the office being your desk lamp and monitor screen while you slave away at whatever undone work your ex-manager has left for you.

tonight’s a different story though.

a little over 11.30pm, you hear the ding! of the elevator bell and you’re honestly more than a little spooked. because who the fuck would come back to the office nearing midnight?

ryomen sukuna, that’s who. strolling in casually, calmly, only affording you a single turn of the head with no acknowledgement before he goes back to his business. no concern for his drowning employee, but then again, he wouldn’t know if this was a grave you dug for yourself so who can blame him?

he always wears the same kind of outfit whenever you see him. tailored charcoal suit, inner shirt always having the top button undone, expensive oxford shoes silent against the carpeted flooring.

brief, swift, still scrutinizing. sukuna’s quick glance is enough to unnerve you because hey, besides the fact that he’s eye candy, he’s still the owner of the company.

when he retreats into his glass doors and leaves you without as much as a word, you slump against your chair. at least when promotion season comes up, you can say that the ceo has seen you hard at work (if he even remembers you).

but he doesn’t give you as much peace as you thought he would, because not five minutes later, you see his name popup on your work chat, and you’re glad he wasn’t around to see your eyes nearly pop out of your head and your knee bang against the desk.

[CEO] Ryomen Sukuna: hey newbie

[CEO] Ryomen Sukuna: still there?

you (force yourself to) get yourself together and calmly reply back to him.

[Key Accounts] Y/N L/N: yes, mr sukuna, can i help you?

his reply comes lightning quick.

[CEO] Ryomen Sukuna: yes.

you wait for about a minute for him to type what he needs from you.

[CEO] Ryomen Sukuna: ???

[CEO] Ryomen Sukuna: hurry up and get your ass in here???

sukuna’s already eyeing you cautiously when you knock and let yourself in. it’s back to normal in no time; that same bored expression he usually gives whenever he is in the office.

he’s seated on the leather couch of his office guest seating area, looking starkly different than what you saw earlier. his suit is off, leaving him in a white office shirt with two buttons undone now, sleeves rolled up to his elbows enough that you see the tattoos running down his arms. his chest too, now that you’re noticing.

“like something you see, y/n?” his tone isn’t as sharp as you’re used to, after seeing him in some meetings, that it catches you off-guard.

because there’s no way the ceo of the company is flirting with you… right?

you clear your throat, forcing yourself out of a panic. “you wanted to see me, mr sukuna?”

sukuna smirks, amused, throwing two files on the coffee table, their names showing bright on the front page. he pats the empty space next to him which you obediently sit on.

“last monday’s meeting while we were going through these accounts, i know you saw something you didn’t point out, what was it?” he asks you, his business voice switched back on. (frankly, sukuna knows talent when he sees it, and he knew why he chose to hire you back then, so he’s annoyed that he didn’t see you show it off more often.)

you swallow the lump in your throat, gaze falling onto the two names on his files. “well, ten shadows group has been complaining a lot lately, and they’re really messy, but they’re consistent.” you’re careful about how you speak about the ten shadows group—they’re sukuna’s biggest client and he seems to be close with one of the directors there, a certain toji fushiguro.

sukuna keeps his poker face on. “and the other one?”

“kamo logistics is… clean.”

he senses your disdain. “elaborate.”

you’re doing your best to keep your sanity because now all you can think about is how close his big hands are to your bare thighs.

“they’re too clean.” you’ve reviewed their files and hundreds of others, you know a pattern when you see one. sukuna shoots you a look, like he’s telling you to go on. “i think they’ve just stopped escalating issues. they’re over-reporting their stability.”

sukuna snorts in approval. he’s leaning forward now, pulling his hand back away, slightly brushing against your thighs as he adjusts to lean his elbows on his knees. “like they’re hiding something.” he can see you staring at him, his tattoos, on his arms, his chest—you’re so obvious yet oblivious.

you nod. “exactly. at least ten shadows group is honest. loud, but trustworthy,” you note. you subconsciously rub your knees together when he moves to lean back against the couch, gaze falling to the outline of his dick against his very very expensive pants.

he sighs. he’d love to avoid firing you, really, but can he?

“well done,” he praises, and you feel all giddy inside. he places a hand on your thigh, and you nearly squirm under him. (he can still tell, can feel your jittery muscles under his palm. he can see your chest heaving, your little black dress so tight against your body—fuck, you’re hot. not why he hired you, but it’s a nice bonus.)

“a-anything else, sir?” you’re stuttering, the way his hand rubs against your thigh doing things to you that you’d rather not let him see.

sukuna smirks, baring teeth and all. his hand sneaks higher up your thighs, fingers brushing the hem of your dress. “what else are you thinking of, hm y/n?” his voice is so sultry, so sinful, like he’s hypnotising you to tell the truth.

your breath catches in your throat, your eyes locking with his crimson tones.

“tell me what you’re thinking of, maybe i’ll make it come true,” sukuna tells you, perfect depiction of smug, fingers creeping under your dress now, eliciting a gasp out of you. he’s already decided: whatever you say next is what he’ll do. if you wanted to head out, perfect, he’ll act like this never happened. which is what he expects you to—

“i want you.”

you don’t really know what possessed you to speak your mind. maybe it’s how sukuna’s looking at you, eyes slightly glazed over, roaming over your body. or maybe it’s the way he’s touching you, fingers now absentmindedly tracing over the fabric of your panties, soaking you. or maybe it’s because now you know—he wants you too.

sukuna’s pleasantly surprised, taken aback by your boldness. he’d maybe allocated a measly five percent chance to you actually saying that.

you’re brazen, and so is he, because you can see the outline of his dick clearer now, hardening in his pants. and since he’s the one who started it, you get even bolder, shifting to palm his dick through his clothes, your cunt throbbing just a little when you hear him groan for the first time.

“you keep doing that and i won’t stop, y/n.” it’s a warning. it serves to tell you that you should stop, but unfortunately you don’t really like to listen to anything other than your heart.

“i don’t want you to,” you mutter breathily before sukuna’s roughly pulling you in by the back of your neck, kissing you slowly and deeply enough to make you pull back for air. he doesn’t give you much allowance, grabbing the back of your thighs and carrying some of your weight as you move to scramble into his lap, straddling him.

he flips your dress up over your stomach, taking his time admiring the view in front of him, eyes flickering upwards to look at you through his lashes. he’s dangerous, charismatic, your doom.

“you like wearing pretty things, baby?” he rasps, and it makes you soak your panties even more.

you can’t even fathom that it’s your ceo looking at your sexy lace panties, and even less that he’s ripping it apart so easily, fingers gliding through your wet folds while he’s licking his lips.

“you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles satisfactorily, rubbing quick circles over your wet pussy. “this mine to play with, sweetheart?”

you nod, a yes pleasepleaseplease leaving your lips, you’re moaning already, his fingers serving to tease rather than please. shit eating grin on his face, knowing you’re a mess on his fingers, knowing you’re a fool for him.

his pants and your dress are off at the same time, the pair of you shamelessly loud and urgent. his fingers skilfully undo your bra clasp while you clumsily claw his top off. he’s as speechless as you are when you’re both finally naked in front of each other.

he’s huge. not just his body too. you don’t think he’ll get half of himself in you before you break. and sukuna thinks you’re going to be the death of him, because how is he not going to keep imagining you naked at work now that he knows what you look like underneath all those skin-tight clothes? perfect tits, perfect ass, perfect wet folds that he can’t help stuffing two fingers in, can’t help swallowing the moans that follow with a kiss.

you’re on your back against his steady oak desk now, thighs forcibly spread open as sukuna takes his place between your legs. you’ve never felt more turned on than with him, his teasing, the way he slaps his cock against your glistening pussy.

sukuna glides himself in slowly, letting you whimper, tears flowing down your cheeks as you feel him stretch you out.

“fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” sukuna grunts, hissing through his teeth as he inches in even slower. he doesn’t miss the way your pussy clenches around him, conflicting in its intent. like it either doesn’t want him in or doesn’t want him to go.

and you’re about a second away from losing your mind; he’s way way bigger than what you’re used to. it feels like he’s going to split you in half, which you should try and stop but you don’t want to.

he’s balls-deep in you the next minute, laughing at you for crying, deceitfully caressing your cheeks as if he’s being tender but no, he’s just mocking you.

because he just found out five seconds ago that he loves seeing you fall apart for him. because you’re usually so poker-faced everytime he does see you. because you’ve turned down nearly every guy in your floor that’s been trying to hit on you.

yeah, even sukuna isn’t immune to hearing the office gossip.

but here you are, letting him do as he pleases with your body, willingly milking his cock, taking it like the good girl you are even if it hurts.

sukuna thrusts faster, palms of his hands moving to knead your perfectly divine tits. you’re his employee, and he really shouldn’t do this but since when has he caved in to supposed legal rules? he’ll deal with any possible blowback after.

right now? all sukuna can think about is cumming inside you, making you cum with him, making you keep screaming his name like you are now.

everything on his desk rattles from the force of his thrusts, mouse and pens and keyboards be damned. his thirty-six inch monitor is shaking, close to being tipped of the desk, but neither of you care enough to move away.

your pussy’s clenching around him now, gummy walls just aching to be fucked hard. and sukuna will give it what it wants, definitely, because his eyes are lolling to the back of his head from how good you feel that maybe he’ll end up cumming way too fast.

a throng of yesyesyes and fuckfuckfuck leave your lips but his favourite? the way you moan his name so fucking loud. it makes him twitch inside you, makes him actually fucking feral.

you’re hot, you’re smart, you’re fucking sexy and he can’t really even believe you’re letting him fuck you just like that.

“god, you’re so fucking hot, look so perfect under me, taking me so well, hm?” sukuna mutters, desperately trying to control himself. “fuck, you’re gonna make me cum fuckfuckfuck, you close baby?”

you don’t even answer, you’re just a blubbering mess, with chants of his name, of pleading with him to don’t stop. so he doesn’t. doesn’t stop until you cum around his cock, juices overflowing as he continues thrusting into you, continues until he cums inside you, fills you up.

and you don’t think you’ll ever stop remembering how he sounds like when he cums, those rasps of your name, of how good you are for him, of fuck that felt so good and don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you.

true to his word, he doesn’t get enough of you. apparently. because it didn’t just stop there.

printing room. utilities closet. executive bathroom. even the gym showers.

it’s like sukuna has his own checklist of where he wants to fuck you in. people think their ceo has gone crazy because he went from coming in once or twice a week to every single day.

one day, you think he’s gone crazy when you see him exit his office and stroll his way over to your direction—everyone who sees him is busy trying to act their busiest, but of course he doesn’t really care, because he’s only looking at you.

and then you check your work chat and you heart flips and drops at the same time because you don’t know how to feel.

[CEO] Ryomen Sukuna: too lazy to hide anymore.

[CEO] Ryomen Sukuna: sorry baby gotta fire u

he does. quick and simple too.

“y/n.”

he shoots you a look that says act professional. which is funny, considering he isn’t either. not really.

“yes, sir?”

sukuna nearly cringes at how weirdly formal that sounds right now. you know, compared to how you’ve been moaning ryo lately.

“numbers are horrible. really bad. you’re fired.”

did he really have to do it in front of everyone and embarrass you like this?

“oh, um, ok.” because what else should you reply with, really? you’ve never been in this position before.

“pack up. then see me in my office for a debrief.”

and while everyone’s outside gossiping about how they pity you and fearing for you, wondering just how badly mr ryomen sukuna is going to chew your ear off, you already know what you’re in for when he hurriedly shuts the door behind you, pushing you into the wall in the far corner of his office, away from any prying eyes.

he chuckles into your ear, and you feel the goosebumps searing across your skin. “now you’re really mine, hm? be a good girl, m’kay? don’t want your ex-colleagues to hear you screaming my name now, do you?”

spoiler: they do.

He kisses your clit one last time before looking up between your thighs at the camera. "Get a good angle?"

You wish your phone could pick up on the pink flush across his cheeks, but the view otherwise is downright sinful. The lower half of his face is coated in your juices as he takes in your wrecked state with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Mm, not really," you muse, zooming in a bit to fill the screen with his pretty face. You're sure half the video is either pitch black or just shots of the top of his head. It's hard to focus on keeping anything in frame when he's slotting his tongue in your cunt.

"I can hold it. You just focus on feeling good," he suggests, already prying your phone away.

You're about to argue that he can't do all the work when his fingers sink into your pussy, sliding past your slick folds without any resistance to the knuckle. A weak gasp is your only response as you sink against the pillows, instantly forgetting whatever argument that was on the tip of your tongue.

Your mind too muddled in pleasure to resist as he fingers you, curling his fingers and adding one more to stretch you open. Once his mouth joins, sucking and grinding his tongue on your clit, your body jolts in response.

"Ah, Xavier!" Your free hands pull at his silvery locks as he hums against your pussy. You rock your hips against his mouth, chasing your peak, feeling it rise—hot and fast. Almost too fast.

He strokes your walls expertly with his long fingers, having memorized every inch of you already, knowing exactly what spots make your toes curl and your back arch.

But this time, what he's doing is something else, something too intense.

"Wait, wait I- I think-" You attempt to scramble away to but he keeps two hands firmly on your hips, gripping you so tight you have no choice but to take it.

You come hard and fast, back arching against the sheets, crying his name. He doesn't take his mouth off you, licking up every drop that gushes on his tongue. By the time he comes up, the lower half of his face is glistening with your juices.

You try to steady your breathing, head spinning and legs still shaking in the aftermath.

"Did I just-" You trail off when your cheeks start to burn. The sheets below you are wet against your skin.

"Yeah," he says, an almost dreamy sigh comes after as he licks his lips clean, wiping off the cum streaked across his cheek with his hand.

You notice his other hand still gripping your hip. "Xavier? Where's the camera?"

You look off to the side where your phone is laying face down. Who knows how long it's been there? You shoot him a glare. He has the audacity to look innocent with his eyes going round.

"Oops, my hand slipped," he pouts, cupping your sensitive pussy. "Take two? I can make you squirt again for the camera."

ZAYNE

He has a secret (not so secret to you) collection of all your nudes and videos in a private folder on his phone. He thumbs through them whenever he misses you.

He LOVES adding to his collection. His favorites are the close up shots of your body preferably with his cum splashed on your back or leaking from your cunt. Welcome to my pervert Zayne agenda…

"I think she's ready." Zayne parts your folds with two fingers, bringing the camera up to record the way your cunt drools down your thighs. He collects the slick on his fingers, smearing it back over your swollen lips.

You bury your face into the pillows, feeling completely exposed to not only Zayne's eyes but the cold lens of the camera. Your thighs are aching from how long you've been propped, ass up for him as he gets his perfect shot.

He pulls the camera away before sucking the mess off his fingers.

"Please," you moan, rocking your hips back to press against his obvious bulge. All the teasing he's done to you while holding himself back has only gotten him even more worked up. You peel your face from the pillow to look back at him. Your pouty lips and watery eyes only earn you a low groan.

"You're beautiful," he says, moving the camera to snap a photo of your expression. "Stay like that."

You bite your lip. He looks about to burst right then. The camera clicks rapidly a few more times as he adjusts the angle. It's a huge ego boost knowing how easily you can turn Zayne on and how obsessed he is with you and your body, how easily it gets him hard just thinking about all your curves and your pretty face on the edge of ecstasy.

"I know pictures last longer, but I can't," you murmur, pressing harder against his cock.

"Sorry, I can't help myself when it comes to you," he confesses, sliding his hand down the expanse of your back, massaging a handful of your ass. He undresses himself with one hand, the other never leaving your skin.

You watch his dexterous fingers move down the buttons of his shirt, popping off each one by one to expose more and more pale skin. You almost wish you had your phone to record too.

Zayne slips his shirt off and undoes his pants. His cock, neglected by his desire to focus on getting the perfect photo of you, springs against his belly once freed, already weeping and red.

You spread your legs wider as he aligns his tip with your slick, tight cunt. He eases in slow, hissing at the way you squeeze him, hands gripping your waist to pull you onto him.

Your lashes flutter as he pushes in until he bottoms out. It's so good to finally have something filling you other than his fingers. "F-Fuck, feels like 'm gonna come already," you moan, as he rubs at your swollen clit.

"Don't hold back then." Zayne takes all of his pent up energy out on your poor, sensitive cunt. You squeal into the pillows, grasping for stability as his thrusts punch into you rhythmically.

The peek of your orgasm approaches fast and so does his as his thrusts growing more and more unrestrained.

He pulls out, using his hand to get himself the rest of the way, before coming in a hot stream over your back.

"Hold still," he orders, still catching his breath. The camera clicks again. "Perfect."

RAFAYEL

The two of you have a secret porn account. No faces, just fucking. The face you make when you come around his cock is just for him.

The account blew up because of one thing—the ovipostion. People are fascinated, glued to the screen watching as he breeds you with his eggs. The comments are always feral and begging to see just how much you can take before you break.

"I'm stretching you out good, huh?" Rafayel all but purrs as he folds your thighs to your chest. "Getting you nice and ready for my eggs."

His presses down on your abdomen where his cock is spearing your walls with each hard thrust. You squeal and squirm against his unrelenting pressure but don't get anywhere.

"S-So full," you slur, grabbing onto his hand and blinking away the tears gathering in your waterline.

"You're so cute like this. Are you gonna cry?" He thrusts his hips once, hitting that spongy sensitive spot, making you clench around him. You've already come twice now in preparation for his eggs, so every little movement is making you writhe.

"Ah! Ngh, R-Raf!" You yelp, the tears in your eyes spilling over, hand clawing at his hips.

He dutifully wipes them away for you. "What, my beloved?"

"I-"

"Can't speak?" He takes the camera that was set up on a tripod, pointed at your entwined bodies, and brings it to where you connect. "We can let this do the talking then."

The slick sounds of his intense thrusts mixing with your desperate pants are no doubt getting picked up by the mic.

"Hah, f-fuck—ready, beautiful?" He pants.

You nod, mouth and tongue failing you when you feel the swell of his cock. It stretches you until you're trembling around him, cunt throbbing as your body tries adjusting to the new size.

No matter how many times you've done this, you still tense up in the beginning.

But you guess that's what people like. Listening to you whimper, watching you squirm.

"Breathe," he reminds you, low enough that the phone won't hear. A comfort for only you. His own breathing is drawn, close to a whimper as the first egg passes from him to you.

When it begins to slide in, kissing your cervix, you claw at Rafayel's chest, trying your best not to jostle him for the camera.

The tears flow down your temples, breath growing quicker. Whimpers and sobs falling from your lips as the egg, no bigger than your fist, breaches your womb. It sits snug inside you, jostling with each thrust, but there's still more to come.

Your thoughts drift as another egg is deposited into you, knocking against the other one seated in your womb. The bump of your stomach growing more and more visible and the fullness in your womb makes you shift. "Mmph-"

Rafayel grabs your hips to keep you still. "Ah, no moving. Gotta show the audience how good you take it."

You try your best to breathe through it, laying as still as possible as another slips into you, eyes nearly rolling back. Three round eggs sit nicely inside you, heavy and filling.

He pulls out of you slow, careful not to jostle you too much, and turns the camera off before tossing it onto the bed. Editing can wait. First, he needs to tend to you. He laughs at your dazed expression. "Still alive?"

You mumble something, tongue still tied, resting a hand on the bump of your abdomen.

Rafayel lowers himself to kiss the swell. "You did so well."

(NOW IMAGINE IF HE HAD TWO CO- *blows up*)

Check out a comic of this scene by @conjunction-of-crows !!!

SYLUS

Don't get mad, but Sylus is fairly vanilla. I SAID DON'T GET MAD!

He's not making some crazy, raunchy sex tape where you fuck ten ways to Sunday. And if he does make a sex tape, it's meant for your eyes only, and it's intimate. Low light, up close shots, just the sounds of your lips around his cock and his low breathy moans.

"Take it in your mouth, kitten," he instructs, a gentle hand guiding your chin toward his stiff cock.

He leans against the couch cushions, phone in hand with your pretty face on screen, looking up at him with round eyes. Your lips part, tongue peeking out to give his already weeping head a lick.

He's salty on your tongue. Your hand wraps around the part of his shaft you can't take into your mouth. You start slow with your mouth bobbing off the head of his cock, running your tongue over his slit.

He groans, head falling back against the seat. His hand is tight around the phone, gripping it as steady as he can to keep your pretty face in focus.

"Good," he praises. "You can take more though."

You take him deeper, wrapping your hand around the half you can't fit. Your head bobs around his cock as you tease him slow with your mouth.

You want to work him up—have him beg for you on camera, if that's even possible. That's your real mission.

You kiss his tip, batting your lashes up at him as your hand works his cock slowly.

He raises a brow, a silent question.

"Say please," you purr.

The ever impossible man laughs—in your face. The flush across his cheeks and the heavy rise and fall of his chest are a hopeful sign. "Is that what you want from me?"

You nod, trailing your tongue up from his base and along his shaft, eagerly listening to his shuddering breaths.

"You'll—ah—have to give me a reason to beg."

It's a challenging smirk versus your icy glare. You look into the camera that's still focused on you. "I'll have you begging in minutes."

"I invite you to try."

You don't back down from his invitation and go back down to tease his shaft with slow, strokes.

The teasing goes on until you know he's about to come. The way he slumps against the cushions, eyes shut with his head back, Adams apple bobbing, heavy breaths escaping—all the signs you've learned to pick up on.

You bring him to the height of pleasure only to pull away at the last second—over and over. His hand reluctantly lets you pull away. "Ready to beg?"

"You'll have to try harder than that, sweetie." He lets out a dry chuckle that makes you huff. You take his cock in your hand again, holding him tight as you thumb over his leaking tip.

He hisses, hips jerking into your grip, and you smirk.

"One little please won't kill you, Sy." You grab his hand and bring the phone closer to his lips. All he sees in its vision are your glossy, swollen lips. Sweet eyes batting up at him as you ask him to beg for you. "Just once."

Maybe it'll take a little more to break him. One more push closer. Maybe you'll have to climb onto his lap. Or maybe-

"Please."

You're almost left in a state of shock as the word leaves his mouth. Part of you never thought you'd get here, and the other only feels the ache between you legs with the desire to hear it again.

CALEB

You're a fairly unknown camgirl. At most, you'll have three people watching your streams at a time, and you better believe Caleb is there 100% of the time.

He's your top donor. When your streams are quiet and it's just him, you even address him by his username and ask what he'd like to see.

Got carried away with Caleb's part, read the whole fic on my old blog here! Please read my A/N before you click away tho! <33

A/N — thinking of potentially turning Rafayel's part into a full length fic. let me know if you're interested in reading more! do you want more oviposition (ik I do... pls tag me in the fics) anyway, thanks for reading! comments and reblogs always appreciated (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆