♱

Abandoned places possessed a strange allure, a magnetic pull that attracted both the curious and the reckless. There was something exhilarating about stepping into a place that time had forgotten, walking through corridors where no one was supposed to be. Dust settled where crowds once gathered, silence lingered where voices had once echoed, and every shadow felt as though it was hiding something just out of sight.

What always excited him most, however, was the feeling at the back of his mind that despite being alone, he wasn't truly alone; and sometimes that feeling turned out to be right. During several expeditions, he had encountered homeless people living inside the buildings. Usually, he would apologize for disturbing them while filming and simply edit that part out later to respect their privacy. Other times he'd ended up sprinting for his life when they decided they didn't appreciate unexpected visitors.

Regardless, he wasn't about to abandon his hobby because of a few bad experiences.

Currently, he was in an abandoned underground mall from the 90’s that he had read about online. The article hadn't specified exactly why the mall had shut down. It only mentioned that an incident had occurred one day, forcing the entire complex to close permanently. The entrances had been sealed off long ago, hidden behind fences and warning signs, but Toji knew exactly where to look for openings forgotten by the public.

Luckily, he had discovered an abandoned warehouse only six minutes away from the mall. The warehouse had been locked down as well, but after years of neglect the chains securing the entrance had become heavily oxidized. 

For someone like Toji, that wasn't much of a challenge. The back of his truck was filled with tools for situations exactly like this. All he had needed was a steel strapping cutter to cut away the rusted metal. 

Inside the warehouse, he discovered a narrow tunnel leading in the direction of the mall. The opening was partially hidden behind stacked debris and old structural supports, as if it had been intentionally forgotten rather than simply abandoned. Judging by its structure and the faint remnants of industrial markings along the walls, it appeared to be an old cargo route once used by employees to transport merchandise directly into the underground facility, long before the place was sealed off.

Toji hopped back inside his truck and drove through the tunnel. Darkness swallowed everything beyond the reach of his headlights. Concrete walls stretched endlessly on either side, stained by decades of moisture and neglect. The deeper he drove, the quieter the world became. Even the distant sounds from outside disappeared entirely, leaving only the low hum of the engine accompanying him through the darkness.

Eventually, the tunnel finally opened into a section of the mall.

Inside, the first thing Toji did was look for the control room—luckily he was able to locate it quickly. The metal door groaned loudly as he pushed it open, the sound echoing through the empty building. A stale smell immediately greeted him; a mixture of dust, mildew, and old electrical wiring that had sat untouched for decades. Rows of dark monitors lined the walls. Most were covered in a thick layer of dust. Once he spotted the electrical panel, he began flipping switches one by one. A few fluorescent lights flickered awake somewhere inside the building, bathing the corridors in a cold bluish-white glow reminiscent of daylight. Others remained dead no matter how many times he tried, leaving large sections of the mall drowned in darkness. 

The silence that followed felt heavier than it had been seconds ago.

Walking to the center of the complex, Toji stopped and stared. The mall contained four levels. The top floor—where he had entered and located the control room—overlooked the third and second levels below. Then there was the first. Even from above, the final floor looked wrong. Dark stagnant water covered nearly half of it, stretching across the abandoned storefronts like an underground lake. The surface remained still, broken only by the occasional drip falling from the ceiling far below. Years without circulation had transformed the water into a breeding ground for mold, algae, and bacteria. The smell drifted upwards through the open center of the mall in damp waves, carrying the scent of rot, mildew, and decaying concrete. The water reflected the surviving cold lights overhead. 

After settling inside an abandoned store and setting up his tent, he made sure he had everything he needed before recording.

The mall was far too large to fit into a single twenty-minute video, so he had already decided to divide the exploration into multiple parts. He could practically see the title already. “I Explored a Completely Abandoned Underground Mall (You Won't Believe What I Found)” or something equally ridiculous. Even if he didn't discover anything particularly exciting, there was no harm in making the title more dramatic. More views meant more revenue, and YouTube happened to be his primary source of income.

Toji grabbed another cookie while making the final adjustments to the video. Just as he finished saving the file, his phone rang. It was honestly a miracle he still had signal in a place like this. Only a single bar remained, and he suspected even that would disappear the moment he ventured deeper into the building.

Pulling out his phone, he checked the notification. A message from his girlfriend. She was asking how things were going and how much longer he planned to stay.

Toji immediately snapped a selfie, flashing a peace sign towards the camera.

Toji: Finished exploring the first top floors. Going to check out the second one next so I might head back soon. Still debating whether I want to explore the last floor though. The whole thing is flooded with dirty water up to my ankles, but I could probably just wear some rain boots.

Almost immediately, another message appeared.

Wifey: Be safe.

Wifey: I love you.

Toji smiled at the message, the corners of his lips lifting. He sent back a bunch of heart emojis, followed by a thumbs-up, before slipping the phone back into his pocket. 

Time to get back to work.

For a moment he remained sitting at the entrance of the tent, finishing the last cookie from the package. His gaze wandered across the dark store he had chosen as his temporary camp. Sleeping inside an abandoned mall probably wasn't the smartest thing he had ever done, but it certainly wasn't the dumbest either. Compared to some of the places he had explored before, this was practically luxury.

The underground mall remained silent around him. No footsteps echoed through the corridors. No distant conversations. No sounds of traffic from outside. Just the occasional drip of water somewhere on the lower floors and the faint hum of the lights he had managed to bring back to life. The silence was strange, but Toji had grown used to it after years of exploring forgotten places.

Letting out a small sigh, he stretched his arms above his head until his shoulders popped. The mall was massive. Much bigger than he originally expected. Even after spending hours wandering through it, he still felt as if entire sections were waiting to be discovered.

After finishing the last cookie, Toji pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the camera resting besides his backpack. The battery was still good, the memory card had plenty of storage left and he still had more than enough daylight left outside if he decided to head back later.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself.

Leaving the tent behind, Toji walked down the stairs and returned to the same exact spot where he had left off the previous video, which was inside the second floor of a Sears. The upper floor he had already covered, and now he was in the middle floor; unfortunately, he couldn't go any further down yet because it was also covered in dirty water.

He pointed the camera at the store, turning on the light to have some source of brightness. The beam immediately cut through the darkness, illuminating rows of abandoned shelves and display stands that had remained untouched for decades. Dust coated almost every surface in a thick gray layer, disturbed only by the occasional footprint he had left behind during his earlier walkthrough. A few ceiling panels hung precariously above him while others had already collapsed onto the floor below, leaving piles of debris scattered throughout the department store.

Toji adjusted the camera settings one last time before pressing record. A small red light appeared. Instantly his posture changed, the tired explorer disappeared and the content creator took over.

“Okay guys, welcome back to part 3 of my exploring abandoned buildings series, and as you can see we're still at the underground mall where we last left off.” he carried the camera around as he walked through. The flashlight attached to the camera swept across empty aisles and abandoned displays as he slowly moved deeper into the store. “Unfortunately, there isn't much in this Sears store, just the ceiling tiles that have fallen off over time and cracks on the floor. There's also those mannequin stands that were left behind still wearing clothes.”

Toji pointed at a mannequin wearing a red shirt and overalls on top of it.

The mannequin stood completely still near a collapsed clothing section, its plastic face covered in a thin layer of dust. One of its arms had fallen off at some point and now rested on the floor besides it.

“Not really my style, so I'll just leave him be.” he waved goodbye to the mannequin.

For a few seconds he kept the camera focused on it, then he lowered it.

“Actually never mind, looking at him for too long is kind of creepy.” Toji immediately turned away.

The mall remained silent. There were no sounds, no movements, there was nothing. Only the faint echo of his own footsteps bouncing across the empty building.

He continued exploring the structure with the camera recorder in hand, making small silly commentary whenever possible to keep viewers entertained and not leave them alone with the same uncomfortable silence he was experiencing. Later he'd add some soft background music so the video felt more alive than the mall itself.

The deeper he went into the second floor, the more surprised he became.

Unlike the first levels, which had already been heavily vandalized by time and previous trespassers, many of the stores here still contained merchandise. Not much, but enough. Enough to make the place feel less abandoned and more like everyone had suddenly gotten up and left one day without warning.

There was the Sears store, of course, but there was also a RadioShack that still had some old electronics left behind. Old desktop computers sat covered beneath layers of dust. Shelves contained outdated accessories, tangled cables, and forgotten gadgets that probably hadn't been touched since the place closed. He'd definitely come back later for some of those antiques and store them inside his backpack after he finished recording this part.

Then there was a Claire's store too. Toji paused near the entrance and pointed the camera toward a display rack.

“Guys, look at this.” the camera zoomed in. Hanging from one of the hooks was a small TY plushie keychain. Dust covered its fur, but otherwise it looked perfectly intact. “Maybe I'll get this for my girlfriend.” 

He gently picked it up. The toy was surprisingly well preserved; no stains, no missing eyes, no tears, just years worth of lint but that could be cleaned off. “Yeah, this one's definitely coming home with me.”

A few stores later he discovered a Hot Topic. The old familiar scribbly red logo immediately caught his attention.

“Oh hell yeah.” Toji laughed.

Unlike the modern stores people saw nowadays, this one still contained older merchandise; and it was the good stuff. A black-and-white striped jumper. A Skelanimals Y2K Kit the Cat tote bag. A vintage Ruby Gloom Leave Me Alone hoodie. Band shirts. Belts. Accessories. All frozen in time. His truck was going to be filled with all sorts of crap after he finished this series. There were simply too many items left behind. Too many forgotten treasures. Too many things he couldn't just leave here to rot. These things deserved to be appreciated. Do you know how expensive it is to buy something that was manufactured in the 90's nowadays? And here Toji was, standing in the middle of what felt like a treasure chest, free to take whatever he wanted.

Continuing down the hallways, he occasionally pointed the camera towards the railings overlooking the lower levels. The view from above made the mall look even bigger. Rows upon rows of storefronts stretched into darkness. Some sections remained illuminated by the lights he had activated earlier while others disappeared completely into blackness. 

He had to watch where he stepped. Broken glass covered sections of the floor. Pieces of fallen ceiling littered the walkways. Rotting building materials crumbled beneath his boots. Every step produced a crunch that echoed throughout the abandoned structure. Graffiti covered the walls. Dark stains marked the floors. Mold spread across corners and ceilings in strange patterns. Dead decorative plants remained trapped inside oversized pots, their brittle branches threatening to disintegrate at the slightest touch.

It was beautiful in a strange way. Everything was abandoned, forgotten. Yet somehow preserved, as if time itself had stopped moving within these walls.

For a moment Toji stopped talking. Stopped filming. Stopped joking. Instead he simply looked around. Places like this were the reason he loved urban exploration. Not because they were scary or dangerous, but because they felt like memories made physical. Little snapshots of history left behind for someone else to discover years later. As if he had traveled back in time.

After 20 minutes passed, Toji ended the video.

“Alright guys, that will be all for this part. If you enjoyed this, make sure to keep up with part 4 and perhaps part 5.” he pointed the camera down to the first floor. “Eheheh, I'm still deciding whether to explore the last floor or not, but regardless, if you liked this video make sure to like, comment and subscribe. See you soon in the next video.”

Toji clicked stop on the record button and lowered the camera. The cheerful smile he had been wearing for the audience immediately disappeared. The silence returned. He simply stood there staring at the dark hallways stretching beyond the reach of the lights. It always felt strange whenever he finished recording. One second he was talking nonstop for hundreds of viewers and the next he was completely alone again. There were no comments, no music, no audience. Just him and an abandoned mall buried beneath the earth.

Toji glanced at the camera screen, quickly checking that everything had recorded properly. Twenty-two minutes. Not bad. He could probably stretch this place into another two or three more videos if he explored the flooded floor as well. Assuming he actually decided to go down there.

His eyes drifted to the lower level. Even from up here, he could see the stagnant water reflecting the ceiling lights. The surface barely moved. The smell, however, definitely reached him. Years of mold growing. Rotting debris. Water with no circulation. It looked disgusting. Maybe he should return another day with proper waterproof equipment, or maybe he should listen to his girlfriend and stop doing dumb things for once.

“Yeah right.” Toji snorted. That wasn't happening.

Shaking his head, he adjusted the strap of his camera and began making his way to the stairs that led back to where his tent was on the upper floor. Behind him sat an abandoned Blockbuster. The iconic blue and yellow sign was faded from age but still recognizable. Rows of empty shelves could be seen through the broken glass entrance.

For a second Toji considered going inside. Then again, he'd already spent hours recording. His stomach was beginning to complain. The cookies alone weren’t enough. The tent was warm. And he still needed to edit today's footage.

Blockbuster could wait.

He continued down the corridor. His footsteps echoed softly through the empty mall. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Broken glass shifted beneath his boots. A loose ceiling panel swayed gently overhead. The farther he walked, the fewer working lights there seemed to be. The darkness gradually thickened around him.

Toji shoved one hand into his pocket and let out a yawn. Maybe he had been here longer than he thought. He couldn't even remember what time it was outside anymore. Without windows or sunlight, time felt strange underground. Hours blended together. One hallway looked almost identical to the next, maybe that was why he immediately noticed it. There was a strange faint glow.

Toji stopped walking. His eyes narrowed. “...Huh?” 

The glow was coming from the wall.

At first he thought it was a reflection. Maybe the lightning bouncing off a polished surface. But the more he stared at it, the less sense that explanation made. The light wasn't moving. It wasn't flickering. It was just... there. A thin sliver of pale cutting through the darkness.

Weird. 

Toji frowned. He had memorized the layout of the mall from the blueprint map he had found earlier and according to it there shouldn't be anything behind this wall. Maybe it was the light reflecting on it, or perhaps his eyes were simply tired. After all, he had been inside this place for hours. 

Still, curiosity slowly began creeping into the back of his mind. The same curiosity that had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count.

Toji took a few steps closer. The glow became brighter and brighter. Now he could see exactly where it was coming from, a crack; a very thin crack running vertically across the wall. A crack that absolutely should not have been there.

Toji approached it carefully. 

The light spilling through was unlike anything else in the mall. It wasn't like the cool daylight  lights. It wasn't white either. It almost looked… artificial. 

He leaned closer. There was nothing; no voices, no machinery, no footsteps, not even the distant hum of electricity.

“Hello?” Toji called out, his voice echoed through the corridor.

No response came back. 

Toji swallowed.

Now that he was standing this close, he could clearly see the light pouring through the crack. There was definitely something on the other side. Something that wasn't supposed to exist according to every map he had found; and that bothered him, because abandoned buildings followed rules. Maybe not legal and safe rules, but they followed logic. There was always an explanation. A hidden room. A forgotten hallway. An old maintenance area. Something. But this? This made absolutely no sense.

Curious despite the growing unease in his chest, Toji lifted his hand and clenched it into a fist. The logical thing to do would be to knock on the wall. If there was a hollow space behind it then he'd hear the echo immediately. Maybe there really was another section of the mall hidden away from the blueprints. It wouldn't be the first time old documentation was incomplete. Buildings this large often had maintenance corridors, storage rooms or forgotten expansions that never appeared on public records. The more he thought about it, the more reasonable explanations he found. A hidden room. A sealed-off hallway. A forgotten employee area. Anything made more sense than whatever his imagination was currently suggesting.

Swallowing hard, Toji stepped closer until he was standing directly in front of the crack. Up close the wall looked completely normal. If not for the strange glow leaking through the thin opening, there would have been nothing remarkable about it. Yet despite that, his heart continued pounding against his ribs. Something about this felt wrong. Not dangerous necessarily, just wrong; like looking at a puzzle piece that didn't belong to the same set.

“You're overthinking it,” Toji muttered to himself, letting out a nervous laugh that sounded strangely loud within the empty corridor. 

Taking one final breath, Toji raised his fist and moved forward. He expected his knuckles to touch the concrete. Instead, they kept going. His entire hand passed through the wall.

For a split second, his brain completely failed to process what had happened. The wall rippled around his wrist like disturbed water before becoming solid again. Toji stared blankly at the spot where his hand had vanished, then reality caught up with him.

“What the fuck?!” he stumbled backwards so fast that his feet tangled with each other. The camera nearly slipped from his hands as he crashed onto the floor. His heart hammered violently against his chest while every muscle in his body tensed. 

For several seconds he simply sat there staring at the wall. Nothing happened. The crack continued glowing softly. The wall remained completely still.

Toji wiped the sweat from his forehead and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Okay. Okay. He definitely did not imagine that. There was absolutely no way. His hand had gone through the wall. Not bounced off it. Not pushed through some hidden door. Gone through it as if the concrete wasn't even there. 

The realization made his stomach twist. 

For a brief moment he considered leaving. Forget the recording. Forget the mysterious light. Just grab his stuff, drive home and pretend he never found this place. Yet even as the thought crossed his mind he already knew it wasn't going to happen. If he left now, he'd spend the rest of his life wondering what was on the other side.

Slowly, Toji pushed himself back onto his feet, pressing the camera recorder tightly against his chest. His palms felt clammy. His breathing still hadn't completely settled. Despite that, he found himself stepping forward again; one step, then another and another. Eventually he was standing directly in front of the wall once more.

“Okay…” he breathed out shakily. “You're okay.” he ran a hand through his hair. “You know you're not crazy. You saw your own hand go through the wall.” the words sounded ridiculous the moment they left his mouth, yet they were true.

Questions immediately began racing through his mind. What was on the other side? Was there a way back? What if he got stuck? What if this led somewhere else entirely? Another building? Another city? Another country? Hell, what if it wasn't even on Earth? The possibilities were so absurd that under different circumstances he would've laughed.

“Calm yourself Toji, you're alright.” he spoke the words aloud for reassurance. But being the adventurer that he was, curiosity inevitably won. It always did. The same curiosity that had driven him into abandoned buildings ever since he was a child refused to let him walk away now.

“You can do this. You can…”

Closing his eyes, Toji took a deep breath and tightened his grip around the camera. If he was really doing this, then he wanted proof. Nobody would believe him otherwise. 

Slowly he stepped inside. The moment his body touched the wall he felt resistance for only a fraction of a second before it gave way. It felt almost like walking through a thin veil hanging in the air. A cold sensation brushed across his skin. The air shifted around him. His ears popped. Then it was over.

Toji slowly released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the color yellow. Every surface around him was covered in faded yellow wallpaper stretching farther than it should have. The second thing he noticed was the sound. A constant buzzing filled the air, low and unending, coming from the fluorescent lamps  mounted across the ceiling. The noise seemed to softly vibrate through the room. That’s when Toji realized something. The mall was gone. Completely gone. There were only yellow walls. Yellow carpet. Yellow hallways stretching into the distance.

For the first time since entering the underground mall, genuine fear crawled up Toji's spine.

“Sooo, what was it that you wanted to show us?” Satoru asked, yawning as he relaxed comfortably in the passenger seat of Toji’s truck while everyone else was pressed together like canned sardines in the back.

“You’ll see when we get there.” Toji replied flatly, keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead.

“For you to finally text us, it must be something veeerry important.”

“I text you guys, just not in the groupchat.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“When?”

“I text Sukuna like every other day.” Toji admitted.

Satoru dramatically raised his arms into the air. “You text him but not me?” he scoffed. “I’m offended.”

“You’re annoying.”

Yuki, who was squeezed next to you, let out a chuckle.

“Why are you even here Yuki? You’re not even in the groupchat.” Satoru snapped back, feeling a bit humiliated from Toji’s words.

“Choso invited me.” her smile widened as she looked over at Choso, who was squeezed to her other side.

The truck continued down the road while everyone carried on with their usual banter. Between Satoru's constant complaints, Suguru occasionally adding fuel to the fire, and Yuki laughing whenever someone got annoyed, the drive felt normal despite the mystery surrounding whatever Toji wanted to show everyone. Every now and then the truck bounced from a pothole in the road, causing everyone who sat in the back to groan in annoyance as shoulders bumped together again. At this point nobody even bothered apologizing anymore, there simply wasn't enough room.

Eventually the vehicle began slowing down. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as Toji pulled into an empty clearing before finally bringing the truck to a stop.

“Alright, everyone pipe down. We’re here.” Toji announced while stopping the car and hopping off.

As soon as he opened the back door, almost everyone tumbled outside.

One by one everyone climbed out from the back seats, stretching stiff muscles and relaxing their bodies after being seated in uncomfortable positions for so long. Several joints popped, few complaints immediately followed, meanwhile Satoru was already standing outside with a bright smile on his lips, clearly enjoying the fact everyone else had suffered while he sat comfortably in the front seat the entire trip.

According to what Sukuna had told you, Toji texted the groupchat because he had found something “extraordinary,” something nobody had ever seen before, but for whatever reason he insisted everyone be there in person instead of simply explaining it through messages. With nothing else to do, Sukuna accepted and asked if you wanted to go with him. You had agreed almost immediately. Exploring an abandoned building had always been one of those experiences sitting quietly on your bucket list. It was something you had thought about doing before, but never actually committed to. Of course, imagining yourself exploring abandoned places and actually doing it were two very different things.

Still, with everyone else hopping on board, it made you feel safer if anything were to happen. Not that your boyfriend wasn’t strong enough to protect you—far from it actually, but having more people tag along made the whole thing feel less intimidating. Besides, the men would all probably end up doing their own thing while you and Yuki stuck together. It happened every time the group went out. The guys always ended up in one corner talking about some sports match, video game, or whatever random topic had their attention that week, while you and your girl friends  managed to talk about literally everything else in existence.

Toji walked to the back of his truck and unpacked a duffle bag before quickly typing something into his phone. “Alright, everyone stay close and follow me. I set up a small tent in one of the stores so we’ll go there first before proceeding to the thing I actually wanted to show you.”

The group naturally split into pairs as they followed behind him. Toji led from the front while Choso and Yuki walked together behind him. Satoru and Suguru stayed side by side, casually engaging in chatter about something neither of them seemed particularly invested in. Meanwhile you held onto Sukuna’s forearm, staying close to him.

The moment you stepped inside, your grip around Sukuna tightened slightly. A chill immediately ran down your spine. Sure, you had wanted to explore an abandoned place before, but wanting to do it and actually doing it were completely different experiences. The air felt stale. Dust lingered in the atmosphere. Every footstep echoed softly throughout the enormous structure. Shadows stretched across corners where the light struggled to reach. The place still felt unsettling.

A quiet voice in the back of your mind whispered that this was probably a bad idea. That maybe you should've stayed home. That maybe some places were abandoned for a reason. You tried your best to ignore those thoughts. Taking a slow breath, you forced yourself to calm down. You didn't want doubts winning before the exploration had even begun, and even so, it was already too late to back out now. The only way home was in Toji’s truck, and you highly doubted he wanted to waste gasoline driving one person all the way back just because they were nervous.

“This way.” Toji turned around for a second, pointing towards a small store tucked away inside the mall before continuing.

The group followed.

“Sooooo, you’re going to tell us what this is about now?” Satoru asked, stretching his arms above his head as he walked. His voice echoed faintly throughout the empty structure.

“In a second.” Toji replied.

Reaching the small store he had been using as a temporary camp, Toji dropped the duffle bag onto the floor and crouched besides it. The store itself looked no different from the others you had passed on the way in. Empty shelves stood abandoned against the walls, dust covered nearly every surface, and part of the ceiling had collapsed near the back, leaving broken tiles scattered across the ground. In the corner sat a small tent, looking strangely out of place amongst the decay surrounding it.

Toji unzipped a duffle bag he had brought with him from the truck. Inside were several water bottles, a granola bar, an apple, a banana, chocolate chip cookies, and a bag of Doritos. There was also a flashlight, a small pocket knife, a compass, extra batteries, and a few other supplies neatly packed away.

“You’re taking us to a battlefield, Toji?” Sukuna snickered after seeing the contents inside the bag.

Toji let out a tired sigh, already regretting bringing his friends here. Ignoring the comment, he continued organizing the contents, checking his camera batteries before placing them inside the bag and closing the zipper.

“I found something strange on the second floor while exploring.” he finally revealed.

Immediately everyone's attention shifted to him.

“What did you find?” Choso asked while holding hands with Yuki.

“Well...” Toji reached down and unfolded one of the blueprint maps he had left nearby. Kneeling on the dusty floor, he spread it open and pointed towards a specific section with his finger. “According to these maps, there shouldn’t be anything behind this section of the mall.”

Everyone leaned slightly closer. The blueprints looked old and worn from how much Toji had been handling them. Various sections had been circled in pen while other areas contained small handwritten notes.

Toji tapped the location again. “But while I was exploring that hallway, I saw a glowing light coming from a crack in the wall.”

“Great, so you saw a lamp shining into another room that wasn’t on the layout map. Is that why you insisted on us coming along?” Satoru laughed teasingly, clearly hoping to get a reaction out of him.

“This is why no one likes you, Satoru.”

“Ouch.” Yuki grinned.

“Not true! Suguru, Shoko and Utahime all love me.” Satoru defended himself.

“Ehhh, debatable on that last one.”

A few chuckles spread through the group. Toji merely shook his head. His friends were all complete idiots.

Part of him wanted to explain everything right then and there. To tell them about the wall, the portal, the strange yellow room on the other side, but the moment he imagined their reactions, he immediately decided against it. If somebody had told him they walked through a wall and ended up in some impossible room hidden behind reality itself, he probably wouldn't have believed them either.

Without another word, Toji folded the blueprint back up and stood. “Come on.”

Everyone followed after him again as he guided the group deeper into the mall. The more you ventured inside, the quieter everything became. Footsteps echoed through the abandoned corridors. The occasional crunch of broken glass sounded beneath someone's shoe. As everyone walked, you found yourself looking around more carefully. The place felt even bigger. Perhaps it was because there were more people with you, allowing you to pay attention to things other than your own nervousness. Storefronts stretched endlessly along both sides of the hallways. Faded advertisements still hung from walls. Mannequins stood motionless inside display windows. Abandoned decorations remained exactly where they had been left years ago.

“Be careful not to slip.” Toji called over his shoulder while leading everyone to the staircase. “That water is dangerous and has a lot of microorganisms. One of them I read about can cause serious injuries to the brain.” then he glanced back at Satoru. “Not that it would matter much in your case, but still, be careful.”

“You truly hate me!” Satoru dramatically placed a hand over his chest, pretending to be wounded.

“Only a little.”

Satoru gasped. “See? This is workplace harassment.”

“You don't even work for me.”

The group continued climbing the stairs. One floor then another. Each level seemed more creepy than the last. The smell of stagnant water became stronger the lower you went. It lingered in the air alongside everything else, creating an unpleasant combination that made you wrinkle your nose. 

Eventually everyone reached down to the second floor. Toji slowed to a stop. One by one everyone looked ahead. And there it was, a thin crack running through the wall. Bright light spilled from the other side.

Nobody said anything at first. The corridor had gone quiet. Even Satoru wasn't making jokes anymore.

“...Wooowww...” Yuki gasped softly as she slowly stepped closer to investigate.

Almost immediately, Choso's hand tightened around hers. He gently pulled her back before she could get too close. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of her touching something strange, especially in an underground building with almost no signal and no signs of civilization nearby.

Everyone stood there staring at the crack in the wall. The light continued shining through the narrow opening, bright and unwavering. It wasn't flickering like the lights throughout the mall, nor did it resemble sunlight. It was simply there, lightening the darkness around it with an almost unnatural glow. You found yourself staring at it too. The closer you looked, the stranger it seemed. According to the blueprints there shouldn't have been anything behind that wall, yet the evidence was right in front of you. A crack on the wall, a light behind it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, something about it felt wrong.

Suddenly you understood why Toji had insisted everyone come see it in person. No amount of explaining would've convinced you. You had to see it with your own eyes.

“Curious about this I placed my hand on the wall to knock, you know, an echo on the walls to give me confirmation that there was something else on the other side and not just my mind playing tricks...” Toji explained.

“Yes, Toji?” you asked, still holding on to Sukuna’s hand.

Toji took a moment before continuing. His eyes drifted towards the glowing crack before lowering to the floor. He seemed hesitant, almost unsure of how to explain what had happened without sounding completely insane. The silence stretched for several seconds before Toji finally spoke again. 

“Well... then this happened...” Toji stepped closer to the wall before taking another step and disappearing.

A breath caught in your throat.

One moment Toji was standing here in front of the whole group. The next he was gone. Not hidden behind something. Not turning a corner. Gone completely, as though the wall had swallowed him whole.

“What the hell?!”

“Where did he go????”

“Toji!”

“Toji, can you hear us?!”

“Get back here!”

Everyone shouted at the same time, voices overlapping throughout the corridor and each other. Panic immediately spread through the group as all eyes locked onto the wall. Your heart began pounding inside your chest. There was no way. That wasn't possible. Walls didn't just eat people, yet you had seen it happen with your own eyes.

“What do we do?” Yuki asked, looking at Choso for answers.

Unfortunately, Choso looked just as lost as everyone else. His hand tightened around hers while he stared at the wall, searching for some logical explanation that simply wasn't there.

For several long seconds nobody moved. 

Then Suguru let out a heavy breath through his nose. “Fuck it, I'm going in.”

Before anyone could stop him, Suguru stepped forward. He approached the wall without hesitation, stopped directly in front of it, and walked straight through. Just like Toji, he disappeared too.

“Suguru! Wait for me!” the words had barely left Satoru's mouth before he immediately ran after him. True to form, he didn't stop to think, didn't ask questions, and didn't consider the possibility that this could be dangerous. He simply charged after his best friend and vanished through the wall as well.

“These idiots...” Sukuna grunted, dragging a hand across his face. “Toji too.”

You remained frozen where you stood, staring at the spot where three people had disappeared. It felt unreal, like a magic trick somebody forgot to explain. Your brain kept trying to convince itself there had to be a rational answer somewhere, but every possibility fell apart the second you remembered what you had just witnessed.

“What now?” you asked quietly, taking a small step backwards. “Should we go in...?” your eyes shifted to Sukuna.

For the first time since you two started dating, he looked genuinely uncertain.

“Uh... I mean...” Sukuna scratched the back of his neck. “Do you want to?”

You looked back at the wall. The crack continued glowing softly, completely indifferent to the panic it had caused. 

You looked back at Sukuna again. “To be quite honest... not really,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I didn't expect my first time exploring abandoned places to turn out like this.” the words felt ridiculous coming out of your mouth because of course you weren't comfortable. Three people had just walked through a wall and vanished. “But what other choice do we have? We all came in Toji’s car, and he’s the only one with the keys, so it's not like we have much of a choice...”

Sukuna pressed a hand hard against his temple as realization slowly settled over him. Unfortunately, you were right.

“That fucking loser...” he groaned.

Walking home wasn't exactly an option. Not from here at least.

He let out a long sigh before looking back at you. “Just uh… let me know whenever you feel ready. We'll both go through it together.” his hand tightened around yours, enough to reassure you. A silent promise that whatever happened next, he wasn't letting you go through it alone. 

Besides you, Choso cleared his throat. “Why don't we just wait for them to come back?” he suggested.

“And if they don't?” Yuki asked, her voice noticeably quieter than before.

Immediately Choso fell silent. His mouth opened slightly before closing again, because he didn't have an answer. None of them did.

The corridor went quiet once more as everyone stared at the glowing crack in the wall. On one side was the abandoned mall. On the other was something completely unknown, something impossible. The thought of stepping through that wall without knowing what waited on the other side was foolish, yet the longer you stood there, the more thoughts began creeping into your mind.

What if it wasn't dangerous? What if whatever was on the other side wasn't bad at all? Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe this was simply another hidden part of the mall. Maybe Toji was playing some elaborate prank. Maybe there was a projector involved. Some kind of special effect. After all, Toji did run a YouTube channel. He recorded videos, edited footage, and spent most of his free time learning new technology. Perhaps this was just another one of his ridiculous ideas to get views online. Then again… even for Toji, this felt extreme.

You shook your head and pushed those thoughts aside. None of it explained how three grown men had just vanished through a solid wall.

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed Sukuna’s hand. “Okay...” you said quietly. “I think I'm ready.”

“You sure?” Sukuna asked, studying your face carefully as if trying to figure out whether you were forcing yourself to do this.

You bit the inside of your cheek and glanced back to the wall. The strange light continued pouring from the crack, illuminating part of the corridor around it. Standing this close, it almost felt as if it were inviting you in. Every instinct in your body told you to turn around and leave, yet another part of you—the same part that had agreed to come exploring in the first place—wanted answers.

“I think so...” you admitted.

“Alright then.”

The both of you turned to face the wall. Sukuna gave the mall a long look before tightening his grip on your hand. Behind you, Choso rubbed his face while Yuki continued staring at the crack with a mixture of fascination and concern.

“Fiiiine,” Choso groaned. “We’re going too.”

Yuki smiled nervously beside him. “Thank the gods, because there is absolutely no way I’m standing here alone.”

“You weren't going to.”

“I know, but saying it out loud makes me feel better.”

You looked over at Sukuna one last time. “Together?”

“Together.”

The two of you stepped closer to the wall. The closer you got, the stranger it looked. The crack itself wasn't particularly large, yet the light coming from it seemed far brighter than what should've been possible. It spilled across the floor and walls around it.

Your heart hammered inside your chest. This was insane. Completely insane. People weren't supposed to walk through walls.

The moment you reached the crack, Sukuna gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ready?”

“No.”

“Good answer.”

Despite the fears, a small laugh escaped you. 

Before you could change your mind, both of you stepped inside. The sensation was impossible to describe. It felt cold and warm at the same time. Smooth yet rough. It felt as though your entire body had become weightless. The sounds of the mall disappeared. The air around you shifted. Time itself seemed to slow down until everything became strangely distant.

Then it was over.

The ground felt solid beneath your feet once again.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I-is it safe?” you asked, refusing to open them. “Are we okay?” your grip around Sukuna’s hand tightened.

From somewhere nearby, you heard voices.

“Satoru, stay still. How did you even manage to do this?” Suguru sounded exasperated.

“I just wanted to grab those headphones!”

A short laugh escaped Sukuna. “Yeah, we’re okay. You can open your eyes now.”

Slowly, you did. The first thing that greeted you was the light, a neutral white light. You blinked several times before your eyes adjusted. Yellow. Everything was yellow. The walls. The carpet. The endless hallways stretching beyond the room. The place looked like some strange office building frozen in time.

In the middle of the room sat a mountain of recording equipment: cameras, microphones, headphones, tripods, memory cards, light stands, cables tangled together in massive knots, and right on top of that pile was Satoru.

“Get me out of here!” he complained. 

Several cords had somehow wrapped themselves around his legs while he desperately held onto a pair of headphones. Suguru stood next to him trying to untangle the mess while simultaneously questioning every life decision that had brought him to this moment. In the corner of the room, Toji was adjusting his camera settings as if none of this was unusual.

“Where are we?” you asked quietly, still holding onto Sukuna as you slowly observed the room around you.

Behind you, Choso and Yuki stepped through the wall as well. The moment Yuki opened her eyes her jaw practically dropped. 

“Woooooooow!” she gasped. “Toji, where are we?!?”

Even Choso looked stunned. His eyes moved across the yellow walls and endless hallways, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. 

Everyone looked amazed, baffled. No words could properly describe the feeling. Nothing about this place made sense. It felt real. The carpet beneath your feet was real. The buzzing lights overhead were real. The stale air filling your lungs was real. 

Suguru ultimately succeeded in releasing Satoru from the cords. Satoru joyfully raised the headphones right away.

“I hope these work when we get back.”

“Dumbass,” Suguru muttered.

In the corner, Toji finally finished adjusting his camera. A small red light blinked on, indicating that it was recording. Of course he was recording.

“Alright.” Toji cleared his throat. “I did walk around for a bit, but not much. Follow me.”

The group slowly gathered together. Nobody seemed particularly eager to wander off alone. Not in a place like this.

As everyone followed behind, a strange uneasiness settled over you. The room was silent aside from the constant buzzing of the fluorescent lamps overhead. No air conditioning. No distant voices. It reminded you of standing inside an empty building after closing hours, except worse. The air was strangely still. Not oppressive. Not heavy. Almost as if something was missing from it.

As Toji led everyone towards one of the hallways, your eyes drifted to a sign hanging from the wall.

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

The sign looked old, worn, and oddly out of place. Authorized personnel, you thought. Personnel for what exactly? Who would even work somewhere like this? You wondered if this place had once been part of the mall. Maybe some forgotten section hidden behind the walls. Maybe a store that had closed long before everything else.

“Authorized personnel only...” Choso read aloud. “Seems this is our cue to turn back now.”

“Nonsense!” Satoru immediately protested. “We just got here. We have to investigate this place.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea...” Choso replied.

Toji stopped walking then turned around to face everyone. “Okay.” his expression became more serious. “From this point on we're continuing further inside. If anyone wants to turn back, do it now.”

Nobody answered. 

You found yourself instinctively moving a little closer to Sukuna.

Suguru and Satoru seemed completely unconcerned. If anything, they looked eager to continue. Satoru's eyes kept wandering down the hallway as if he expected to find something exciting around the next corner. Suguru wasn't much different. While he appeared calmer, there wasn't any sign that he planned on turning back.

On the other side, Choso looked significantly less enthusiastic. His arm remained around Yuki's shoulders while his eyes studied the hallway ahead. The place clearly bothered him too. The problem was that curiosity always outweighed fear.

"What do you want to do?" Sukuna asked quietly, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You hesitated. The sensible answer was obvious. Turn around, go back through the wall, and pretend none of this ever happened. Yet when you imagined leaving now, a different feeling settled in your chest; regret, because if you left, you would never know what this place was. You would spend the rest of your life wondering what existed beyond these hallways.

“I don't know…” you admitted honestly. “I don't feel too sure about this place, but…” your eyes drifted towards the corridor. “I'm intrigued.”

Sukuna nodded. “I feel the same… I think I want to stay too. But I'm not leaving you here alone.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. 

You looked down at the carpet beneath your feet. Every part of your brain was screaming at you to turn around. Yet your feet refused to move. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was stubbornness. Or maybe seeing everyone else standing here made the decision easier. Whatever the reason, you eventually sighed. 

“We should stay.”

“You sure?”

You bit your lip. Not really, but you nodded anyway. “I think so.”

“Alright then.”

The two of you looked back at Toji.

Across the room, Choso let out an exaggerated groan. “Fiiiiine.” he threw one hand into the air. “We're staying too.”

Yuki immediately brightened up. “Really?”

“No.” Choso deadpanned. “I was planning on leaving you here.”

Yuki smacked his arm.

Satoru laughed. “Excellent decision. I knew you guys would come around.”

“You say that like you didn't sprint through a mystery wall after Suguru without thinking.” Sukuna said.

“I thought about it.”

“No, you didn't.”

“I thought about it very quickly.”

“That's not how thinking works.”

Meanwhile, Toji had already turned the camera back to himself. The red recording light continued blinking. Part of you wondered how he could still be focused on filming at a time like this. Then again this was probably the biggest discovery of his entire career. Millions of people explored abandoned buildings. Nobody discovered impossible worlds hidden inside walls.

“Okay…” Toji spoke into the camera. “We don't know where we are. I found this weird light inside the abandoned underground mall. When I approached it, it led me here.” he slowly turned the camera at the group.

Satoru immediately waved. “Hi mom.”

“You think your mom is watching this?” Suguru asked.

“She definitely will after this.”

Ignoring them, Toji continued. “Me and my friends are going to see what's back here. Hopefully something interesting.”

The moment he finished speaking, he stepped beyond the warning sign. The rest of the group exchanged uncertain glances before following after him.

As soon as you crossed beyond the sign, a strange feeling settled in your stomach. Nothing changed. The walls remained yellow. The lights continued to softly buzz. The carpet felt exactly the same beneath your shoes. But something felt as though you had crossed an invisible line, like the sign had been more than a warning.

The place was huuuge, endless,  no matter where you went there was just another opening taking you somewhere else. Every room seemed connected to another, every corridor opening into two more, every turn revealing another section of yellow walls and buzzing lights. It almost felt as if the place was constantly unfolding in front of you. No matter how long you walked, there was always something beyond the next room waiting to be discovered.

At first there was nothing, just big rooms that would echo the footsteps or noises someone made. The group kept quiet, looking at everything in bewilderment and baffled by what they were seeing. Every now and then someone would stop to stare at a wall for a little longer than necessary or glance down a corridor stretching into the distance. The place didn't feel real. It felt like a dream someone had forgotten to wake up from.

At some point, Satoru—as usual—began some meaningless chat, making stupid remarks and occasionally getting a response. The sound of conversation helped. It made the endless rooms feel a little less empty, a little less unsettling. Even if half of what came out of Satoru's mouth was nonsense, it was still better than listening to nothing.

A few corridors connecting the rooms were completely dark, but thankfully the rooms from both ends and Toji's camera flashlight shined inside. Even so, every time the group crossed one of those darker hallways, you found yourself walking a little faster without realizing it. The darkness felt different here. Not threatening exactly, but unnatural. 

As the group went deeper and deeper, stranger things started appearing.

There was furniture, but it was all wrong: a table was halfway finished, chairs didn't have their legs, lamps were going through the walls, a desk was stuck on the ceiling, everything was just wrong. It felt like someone had tried to photocopy a room and the image came out distorted. A copy of a copy that kept degrading each time it was reproduced. The longer you looked at those objects, the more uncomfortable they became. Everything looked familiar enough for your brain to recognize it, but wrong enough to make you wish you hadn't looked so closely.

The entrances got weird over time too. At first they were just long empty entrances, but then they got odder. A small square on the center of the wall took you somewhere else. A really slim rectangle led to another corridor. There were rooms completely dark. A piano stuck on the floor. A car that had crashed into one of the walls, dark smoke dust around it. Based on the model of the car, it must've happened years ago. Yet there was no sign of the driver. No belongings. No indication that anyone had ever been there.

“Hellooooo? Is anyone here???” Satoru stretched out his voice, the noise vibrating and resonating throughout the rooms.

As the group went deeper and deeper, more things started appearing. In some places, there were cameras on the doorways with cardboard cutouts of a caveman saying hello in multiple languages. Drawings started appearing on the walls, usually point marks or arrows leading the way. Toji, acting as the group's leader, followed them without much hesitation.

The place felt endless, like a maze. It reminded you of a labyrinth but without the Minotaur... well, at least you hadn't seen one yet. Hopefully things stayed that way too.

Over time, as you continued exploring with the group, your anxieties began calming down. The longer you were here, the more your mind started forgetting the idea that there was something else lurking somewhere within these endless rooms. Perhaps this was proof that once you faced your fears, things became less scary. And they did. What had once felt overwhelming now felt strangely familiar. The yellow walls no longer made your stomach twist. The constant buzzing slowly faded into the background. You were more at peace now, even cracking jokes with Satoru and Yuki every once in a while.

“All these empty rooms, they could build apartments here.” Yuki joked as she looked around one of the larger spaces.

“Would you move in?” you asked her.

“Hmmm...” Yuki thought about it for a second, placing a finger against her chin. “I think I would, though they seriously need to change the lighting and wallpaper. All this yellow is not it. Reminds me of piss.”

You and Satoru immediately burst out laughing. Even Suguru let out a low chuckle. Only Sukuna, Toji, and Choso remained quiet.

“Heyyy, brighten up.” Satoru reached over and shook Choso's shoulder.

“Satoru... let go.”

“What? I'm not doing anything.”

“We need to stay focused.”

“You're too tensed up dude, chill. Nothing is going to happen.”

“You don't know that.” 

“If it did, it would've happened already.”

Choso grunted. His response felt different; not annoyed but tired. Over the last hour, he had slowly spoken less and less. While everyone else occasionally got distracted by the bizarre things around them, Choso remained alert. Constantly looking around. Constantly checking hallways. Constantly making sure Yuki remained nearby. The deeper they ventured into the place, the less comfortable he seemed.

From the front Toji called out, “Can you guys keep it quiet? I'm still recording.”

Satoru looked at him and immediately let go of Choso's shoulder, raising both hands. “Alright, alright, sorry...” he whispered before adding under his breath, “party pooper...”

Toji ignored him.

On the walls even more signs started appearing, and Toji seemed far too invested to stop following them. Every new arrow felt like a clue. Every new marking felt like evidence that someone else had been here. He continued leading the group through more and more rooms, the camera constantly rolling as he documented everything. Random holes had started appearing in the floors too, forcing everyone to watch where they stepped.

Eventually the arrows led everyone to a wall covered in scribbles.

The moment you saw it, the atmosphere changed. Unlike the previous markings, these weren't simple arrows or directions. They felt desperate. Messages had been written all over the wallpaper using different colors and different handwriting.

the sound doesn't stop

it knows your fears

it hears me

it hears me

it hears me

God closed its eyes

There were handprints pressed against portions of the wall. A strange smiling face had been drawn near the center, its expression somehow making your skin crawl despite how simple it looked. Near the top—far too high for an average person to comfortably reach—someone had drawn a window with trees and a bright sun outside.

Beneath it another message had been written: if you see it don't move, don't scream, don't breathe. Stay still

You felt your stomach tighten.

At both ends of the wall were more arrows.

The arrow on the right read: Habitable Zone

The arrow on the left read: The End

“Huuuh...” Toji slowly recorded everything on the wall, taking his time documenting every message and drawing. “Habitable Zone or The End...” he muttered. “Well, I imagine The End is just the end of this.”

Nobody said. The lights continued buzzing, but louder now. 

Choso finally spoke. “Can't we go through the other side?” he asked, looking around. “We've explored enough and I don't want to take my chances pushing this further. We should all go back. I'm tired, and I'm sure it's pretty late by now.”

“What?” Yuki looked over at him. “You want to go already?”

“Yes...” Choso answered. “I think we should all return.”

“No way dude, this is all too fun and mysterious.” Satoru immediately blurted out.

“Yeah Choso...” Yuki agreed. “We just got here. No way you're tired already. Besides, this is all too cool to quit now.”

Choso exhaled slowly through his nose. “Yuki.” his voice sounded more serious this time, more commanding. “We've been here for more than an hour. There's nothing to see, and to be honest, I don't like being here.” his eyes briefly wandered around the room. “I know you're excited and all, but I don't feel comfortable being here. Honestly, I'd appreciate it if you didn't disagree with me on this one and just came back.”

“Choso.” Yuki scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You say that every time I’m out with your friends. You always want to leave before everyone else.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.” Yuki crossed her arms. “I didn’t say anything sooner because I didn’t want to start an argument, but it feels like you’re being too overprotective. We’re fine. Nothing is going to happen.” she gestured towards you. “She is here too, and I barely get to hang out with her because we’ve all been so busy lately. Can’t you please do this for me once?”

Choso stared at her. “You don’t understand.” 

“No, you don’t understand.” Yuki immediately shot back. The frustration in her voice caught everyone off guard. “Every single time we go somewhere you act like something terrible is about to happen.”

“Because something could happen.”

“But it hasn’t.”

“Yet.” the answer came instantly. Even Choso himself seemed surprised by how harsh he sounded.

Yuki stared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means look around, Yuki.” Choso spread his arms. “We walked through a wall. We’re in some place nobody understands. We have no clue where we are. We don’t know how big this place is. We don’t know if there’s something else here with us.”

“Exactly.” Yuki replied. “We don’t know. We don’t know anything. Which is why I want to keep exploring.”

Choso let out a disbelieving laugh. “Exploring?”

“Yes.”

“You’re treating this like some vacation.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

The argument was escalating now. You could feel it. Neither of them were really listening anymore.

“You know what?” Yuki stepped closer. “I’m tired of you acting like I can’t make decisions for myself.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“It is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“You literally just asked me to leave because you don’t like being here.”

“Because I’m worried!” the words came out louder than intended. 

The entire room fell silent; even Satoru stopped smiling. Toji lowered the camera. 

Choso closed his eyes, immediately regretting it, but the words were already out. “I’m worried.” he repeated more quietly. “I’ve been worried since we walked through that wall.”

Yuki’s expression softened slightly, only for a second, then she looked away. “Choso...”

“No.” he shook his head. “I’m serious.” his hand moved through his hair. He looked exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. “I don’t like this place.” his eyes wandered toward the hallway labeled The End, then to the one labeled Habitable Zone, then back to Yuki. “Every room looks the same. We don’t know where we are. We don’t know where we’re going. We don’t know if we can even find our way back.”

The lights continued humming.

“Maybe I’m overreacting.” Choso admitted. “Maybe I am.”

Yuki remained quiet.

“But I don’t want to keep doing this.”

Yuki looked down at the floor, then back up at him. “And I don’t want to leave.”

Choso’s shoulders dropped. For several seconds neither moved. Neither spoke. The two simply stared at each other. Then Choso slowly let go of her hand.

“Fine.” the word sounded defeated. “Do whatever you want.”

“Choso—”

“No.” he shook his head. “I’m not your father. You’re old enough to do whatever you want.” he turned and began walking away. Towards The End. Away from the argument. Away from the room. Away from the buzzing lights that never seemed to stop.

Yuki watched him leave. Something flickered across her face. Regret. Hurt. Frustration. You couldn’t tell. She turned around too. “Fine,” and started walking in the opposite direction.

“Uhhh guys...” you mumbled. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to split up.”

Neither of them listened. They just kept walking. Further and further away. Disappearing into separate hallways.

“Orrr you can just ignore me.”

The rest of the group remained standing there. 

Satoru looked at the corridor Choso disappeared into. Suguru looked at Yuki. Then both looked at each other.

Suguru massaged his forehead. “Satoru, go get Choso and convince him to come back. I’ll go get Yuki and do the same.”

Satoru groaned dramatically. “Alriiiighttt... didn’t think I’d end up playing babysitter in an interdimensional piss maze.”

Despite the argument, a short laugh escaped Suguru. “Just go.”

Satoru saluted. “Yes, sir.”

The two immediately headed in opposite directions, chasing after the couple before they managed to get too far. And just like that, the group became even smaller.

“Of course this had to happen.” Sukuna muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The room felt much larger than before. Only moments ago there had been seven people standing together. The conversations, the jokes, the occasional complaints from Satoru had made the place feel almost normal. Not safe exactly, but manageable. Now half the group had disappeared down separate hallways.

“Toji?” you looked over at him. “Are you, uhhh... going to get them?”

Toji didn't answer immediately. His eyes remained fixed on the wall of messages. The camera stayed raised, recording it. His gaze moved across the arrows, the warnings, the scribbled notes left behind by people who had apparently been here before.

“Toji?” you repeated.

“Huh?”

Your voice seemed to snap him out of whatever thought process he had fallen into.

He looked over his shoulder. “Oh.” he blinked. “Nah.”

“Nah?”

“They’re all grown adults.” he shrugged. “They can take care of themselves.”

You stared at him. That answer wasn't reassuring at all. 

“But—”

“I imagine they'll come back here eventually.” Toji adjusted the camera settings while speaking. “So I'll just continue exploring for a bit before they get back.”

“You seriously don't care?”

“Ehhh...” Toji tilted his hand side to side. “Not really.”

Your jaw dropped slightly.

“Like I said, they're adults. My main focus here is getting footage, not looking after them.”

“Okayyy...”

Part of you wasn't sure whether to admire his confidence or be horrified by it. Maybe both.

Sukuna leaned closer to you. “You know they're usually not like this.” he whispered.

You immediately whispered back. “No kidding?”

Normally, Choso and Yuki were practically attached at the hip. Sure, they disagreed sometimes, but never enough to storm off in opposite directions. Suguru and Satoru definitely weren't the type to wander away from each other either. Something about this place seemed to amplify everything. Every irritation, every doubt, every uncomfortable thought, like the rooms quietly took whatever was already inside your head and turned the volume up.

“Anyways,” Sukuna continued, straightening up. “We should stay close to Toji.”

“Yeah....”

You looked down the hallway where Yuki had disappeared, then to the one Choso had taken. Neither of them were visible anymore. The corridors swallowed people surprisingly fast. One minute somebody was standing there. The next they were gone behind a corner.

A strange chill ran through you. For the first time since arriving, the size of this place truly began sinking in. If someone got lost here… how would you even find them? The thought lingered in the back of your mind as Toji started walking without waiting for anyone, without even checking whether the rest of the group was following. He simply picked a direction and kept moving.

Toji paced a few steps ahead of you and Sukuna, keeping some distance while still recording everything else with his camera.

Honestly, you were starting to regret tagging along. Sure, at first the idea had been exciting and you had completely lost your mind when he walked through the wall, but after spending all this time wandering around with nothing particularly interesting happening, it was starting to become boring. The rooms had felt mysterious at first, every hallway making your imagination run wild with possibilities, but after hours of walking through endless yellow rooms and identical corridors, the novelty was beginning to wear off.

You yawned. “I’m hungry.”

Sukuna chuckled softly. “Yeah, same here.”

You continued walking besides him, your footsteps muffled by the carpet beneath your feet. “You know, I’m starting to regret coming along.”

Sukuna dramatically gasped. “Are you saying I’m boring company?”

You giggled. “Well, it’s not you. I like spending time with you, it’s just that this is boring. We haven’t seen anything interesting, and after a while it gets old seeing basically the same rooms over and over again.” you reached over and held onto his hand.

“I get it.” Sukuna nodded. “Normally we’d find something interesting, but this has just been the same rooms with weird doorways and half-finished furniture.”

“You think Toji remembers how to get back?” you asked, glancing briefly at the front before looking back at him.

Sukuna scratched his ear before replying. “Probably not.”

“Figures. We should’ve left a trail or something.”

“Mhhm.” Sukuna nodded in agreement.

The two of you continued walking behind Toji. The cameraman seemed completely absorbed in whatever he was recording. Every now and then he'd stop to film a doorway, a strange piece of furniture, or one of the countless arrows painted across the walls before continuing onward.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“You think the others are fine? I hope Choso and Yuki make up because it’ll be awkward if they break up. You know, us being friends with both. It always feels like you're forced to choose between one or the other.”

Sukuna snorted. “I get it, but they'll probably be okay. It’s not the first time they've argued before, and when they make up they act like it's their first time falling in love.”

“To be fair, they act like that all the time.” a small smile tugged at your lips. “But seriously, I don't think it was a good idea to split up. Whatever. At least Satoru and Suguru are with them and Toji's not alone.”

“Agreed.”

The conversation died down. At first you didn't notice what had changed. Everything around you looked exactly the same, yet something here in this room felt different. The hairs along your arms slowly stood up. Your stomach tightened. The air had grown colder. Not dramatically colder. Just enough for you to notice, enough for your body to notice before your mind did. Your breathing suddenly felt heavier. The uneasy feeling you had experienced when first entering the wall came rushing back stronger than before.

“You feel that too?” you stopped walking, tightening your grip around Sukuna’s hand.

“Yes...” Sukuna immediately stopped as well. His eyes scanned the surrounding rooms, the entrances, corners, dark hallways, every possible direction. It wasn't panic. It was caution.

Ahead of you, Toji paid no attention to either of you. He remained completely absorbed in recording, almost captivated by whatever thoughts were running through his head. You wondered how the camera was still running, but knowing Toji he probably had enough spare batteries stored away to survive the apocalypse.

The three of you continued walking. The temperature seemed to drop another degree. The lights buzzed louder. The silence felt ominous. Toji walked inside a dark corridor. Without warning he took a sharp turn around the corner. The moment he did, his entire body froze. His posture straightened instantly. The camera lowered. For a second he simply stared.

“What the hell?!” his voice echoed through the hallway, then he ran straight into the darkness.

You and Sukuna looked at each other confused and alarmed.

“What?”

“Hey Toji, wait up!”

Neither of you received a response.

You and Sukuna ran after him. By the time you reached the entrance of the dark corridor, Toji was already gone. Only the sound of his footsteps remained, fading somewhere deeper within the maze.

“Let’s go check it out.” Sukuna said. “We can’t lose him.”

You nodded.

The two of you hurried down the hallway. The darkness swallowed the corridor between the pools of light at either end. Your footsteps echoed as you followed the direction Toji had gone, turning the corner and entering the next room he wasn't there. 

This new room was enormous. Much larger than the previous ones. Several entrances branched off in different directions, each one leading somewhere else. You and Sukuna stopped in the middle, looking around and listening for Toji, but nothing came.

“Fuck!” Sukuna cursed. “Where the fuck could he have gone?”

“Toji?” you called out. “Where are you?” your voice echoed down one of the tunnels.

No answer came back, only silence.

“Great.” Sukuna sighed.

“What do we do now?”

Sukuna stood there for a minute, thinking. “We should probably look for him. As much as I want to, we can’t just abandon him.”

You huffed. “So where do we go from here?”

The both of you slowly turned, studying each entrance. Trying to decide. Trying to guess. Trying to find some clue.

“Through here.” Sukuna finally pointed to one of the openings.

“Are you sure?”

“No.” he immediately admitted. “But what other choice do we have? We can’t just stay here.”

“Okay...” you slowly inhaled and exhaled.

“Come,”

The two of you walked towards the passageway on the left, stopping briefly at the entrance. For a moment neither of you moved, silently contemplating the decision before finally stepping through. Almost immediately the temperature returned to normal, or at least as normal as it could be in a place like this. The tension in your shoulders eased slightly. The feeling of being watched faded.

You exchanged a look with Sukuna. “I hope we find him.”

“I hope so too.”

Just as every other hallway this one seemed to lead to more pointless rooms. The two of you continued wandering through the maze. Occasionally there would be a random hole in either the ceiling or the floor leading to even more pointless rooms beyond. Every turn was similar to the last. Every corridor seemed to stretch forever before opening into another room that looked the same. Unfortunately, neither of you had been able to find Toji.

At first you had been hopeful. Every new room made you think maybe he would be standing around the corner recording something weird for his channel. Every distant shadow made you wonder if it was him. But after spending who knows how long walking through endless hallways, you were finally forced to admit the truth. He was lost.

“This was such a terrible idea.” you grunted, facepalming yourself.

Sukuna snorted. “You're only realizing that now?”

“Yes.”

Your legs kept moving, taking yet another turn. The conversation died off again as the two of you wandered through another corridor. The lights buzzed faintly overhead. The carpet muffled your footsteps. Everything felt strangely still, which at this point became normal.

Both of you stopped in a new room, but this one was different. Well, not completely different. It still had the same yellow wallpaper and the same unsettling atmosphere. Yet it was undeniably different. The room was slightly larger than the others. A row of pendant lamps hung from the ceiling, each spaced evenly apart. Bright red signs screamed 'EVERYTHING 50% OFF!' from different corners of the room. There were different types of tables: coffee tables, console tables, round tables and dining tables. There were couches: vintage camelbacks, ottomans, recliners, sofas and armchairs. Beyond them sat complete bedroom displays with different bed frames, nightstands and dressers arranged neatly together. It looked like an actual place, a setting.

“Wait...” your voice came out softer. “Is this supposed to be a furniture store?”

“Ikea?” Sukuna said.

You gently smacked his chest. “Not the time for jokes.”

“I wasn't joking.” 

He looked completely serious. You rolled your eyes.

“Even so, why would this be here?”

Sukuna shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno.”

You both slowly began circling the room, staying close to each other while investigating. You peeked inside drawers. Opened cabinet doors. Checked behind furniture displays. Part of you hoped there would be something useful here. A clue. A note. Anything that could explain where you were or where Toji had disappeared to. Unfortunately, the furniture store seemed just as abandoned as everything else. He was such an idiot for running off like that.

“You know what this whole place makes me feel like?” Sukuna suddenly said.

You glanced over at him. “What?”

“It makes me feel like I'm this forty year old guy stuck in a shitty job after my wife kicked me out of the house and I never got to accomplish my dreams.”

You immediately laughed.

Sukuna made a very dramatic face, closing his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows while somehow still grinning. One fist rose into the air, clenched tightly as if he were starring in some low-budget drama.

Slowly opened his eyes again. “You wouldn't kick me out of our house, right?”

The two of you didn't even have a house yet. You just lived together in a small apartment your father had let you borrow while the two of you scraped together enough money for a place of your own. Having only recently graduated from college and started your lives together, things had been challenging at times, but so far you had managed.

“Hmmm.... I don't know.” you placed a finger against your cheek, pretending to think about it. “If you start acting like an asshole to me, I would.”

“Well then, I'll be sure to be careful.”

“Good boy.” you patted his head.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and put on an annoyed expression, but after spending so many years together you already knew he was only putting on a show. The truth was that he loved when you coddled and praised him, but only when alone. If you were ever to do this in front of his friends you were sure he’d kill you and them. 

The two of you simply wandered around the store together; opening more drawers, testing recliners, making fun of ugly furniture designs. It was oddly normal. Almost enough to make you forget you were trapped in an interdimensional maze hidden behind reality.

Sukuna's expression slowly shifted into a devilish grin. That immediately made you suspicious.

“Since we're lost and Toji is not around...” he reached into his pocket. “I have a wonderful idea.” he pulled out his phone.

“Which is?” you narrowed your eyes.

Sukuna slowly approached you, placing one hand on your lower back and pulling you closer until the two of you were face-to-face.

“Well, we're alone and there's tons of mattresses laying around.” he gestured to the bedroom displays with his free hand. “I think you can figure out the rest.” his grin widened. He looked far too pleased with himself.

“Seriously? Now?”

“Why not?”

You shook your head. “We're lost in a nightmare.”

“Exactly.”

“That is not helping your argument.”

“It is from my perspective.” he laughed. “Think about it. Nobody’s around, so it’s not like they’re going to notice. Besides, imagine the views we’ll get if we fuck in a place like this.”

You looked around at the strange space surrounding you. It would be like the two of you were having sex in a furniture store, but something about this place wasn’t right.

You bit your lip, thinking it over before eventually giving in. “Okay... just make sure you crop out our faces when you upload it.”

Sukuna walked over to one of the bedroom sets, clicking record on his phone and placing it on top of a dresser to capture both of you as well as the weird-looking background.

“Of course. I always blur out our faces when I upload.” he started taking off his shirt, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants.

You laid on the bed, taking off your clothes as well and getting ready into position. “You even have signal on that thing? Mine wasn’t working earlier.”

“Nah, but after we get out of here I’ll upload it to our shared account. You know, surprisingly, Twitter pays well.”

“Makes sense. People are horny over there.”

You spread out on the bed, shifting to the side with your legs apart. From over your shoulder, you could already see the outline of his erection pressing against the fabric of his boxers. It suddenly became very obvious why he had suggested the idea in the first place. The man had been hard this entire time.

A soft giggle escaped you.

Sukuna leaned over your body, leaving kisses across your face as he immediately got to work, gently pressing his fingers against your clothed womanhood.

A soft sigh escaped you. Neither of you seemed concerned about the endless maze. 

Your hand found its way to his dick, slowly stroking him as he continued kissing your cheek and jaw.

The familiar intimacy eased some of the tension that had settled into your body over the past few hours. Being trapped should have felt terrifying, but with him close, it became easier to forget.

Moving across the bed, you came face-to-face with his hardened cock. A smile found its way to your lips as your hand wrapped around his shaft, tapping it gently against your lips before bringing it in your mouth. Slow, steady motions followed as your head bobbed around him, savoring the salty taste of his precum. A deep breath filled your lungs before taking him fully, his tip reaching the back of your throat while your lips brushed lightly against his darkened pink pubes.

“Hmmmphh…” you moaned around him, the vibrations making him shudder as his hand tightened around the back of your head.

Looking up, you watched his jaw hang open as he breathed deeply, eyes squeezed shut while he gently guided your head back towards him each time you pulled away. Fighting the urge to gag, you focused on steadying your breathing against the feeling of him fully sheathed in your mouth.

“Fuuuck…” he groaned, opening his eyes slowly to look down at you.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly pulled away from him. His hand remained resting on your head but made no move to pull you back. Instead, his gaze sharpened, something darker settling behind it.

Suddenly your hips were in his hands. 

With a firm grip, he turned you around until your face was buried in the pillows before dropping to his knees and tugging your panties down. Strong hands settled on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he dragged his tongue across your slit. A bite of your lip did little to muffle the sounds escaping you. Fingers tightened around the pillow instead, knuckles slowly turning white against the fabric. Sukuna pressed the tip of his wet muscle on your clit, flicking your bud rapidly before sliding it back to your entrance. The juices spilled onto his mouth as he continued savoring them, like a thirsty man who hadn’t had water in over twenty-four hours. Sukuna continued. You bit your lip, trying—and miserably failing—to quiet down the moans. Your hands clutched the pillow tightly.

Without a warning Sukuna pulled away. You turned your head to look at him, a smirk pressed on his face.

He pumped his dick three times before guiding himself inside you. 

A sharp breath caught in your throat. Your eyes widened at the familiar intrusion as he slowly filled you, every inch making your body tense before gradually giving way. Not that you weren't used to Sukuna, but every time he pushed inside it still sent a sudden shock through you, that brief moment of adjustment making your fingers tighten against the sheets.

“Ohh, baby….” you moaned, pressing yourself harder into the pillows while shifting your thighs upward, spreading them further to give him more room. 

Maybe it was because the place felt so empty. Maybe it was because everything around felt artificial. Whatever the reason, the need to be close suddenly felt stronger than usual. 

Too impatient to give either of you much time to think, Sukuna immediately set a steady rhythm of thrusts. A low groan escaped him as one hand remained anchored on your lower back, keeping you close while the other traveled upwards to unclasp your bra. The garment slipped away seconds later, his touch lingering before that same hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you there as if he couldn't bear to put any distance between the two of you. 

Sukuna kept thrusting, his pace slowly losing whatever restraint he had before, each movement growing rougher and more desperate than the last.

Unable to stay pressed against the pillows any longer, you pushed yourself upright until your back rested against his chest. One hand found its way to his neck before tangling into his hair, holding on for support as the uneven rhythm of your breaths mixed together.

“You feel good…”

Sukuna was pounding into you when he abruptly pushed your body forward, the force making him slip out and leaving you feeling suddenly empty. He climbed onto the bed sideways, his legs facing the phone’s camera.

Immediately, you knew what to do. 

You moved over, spreading your legs on either side of him as you sat on top. From the vanity mirror, you could see both yourself and him beneath you. 

Settling into a steady rhythm, you found your pace. The knot in your stomach tightened little by little, each movement making it harder to focus on anything else. Around you, the lights continued their low flickering, the cold air of the furniture store contrasting sharply with the heat building between your bodies. Both of your noises mixed together, uneven breaths and quiet sounds filling the otherwise empty room. It made it easier to forget where you were.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Sukuna groaned. His hands snaked over to your breasts, fondling them. He had once jokingly called them his “personal stress balls,” though judging by the way he looked at you now, there was nothing particularly humorous about it.

A shaky laugh almost escaped you before it dissolved into another breathless sound.

The longer it went on, the more restraint seemed to leave him.

“Babe…” you whined, pressing your nails on his pectorals, leaving tiny scratches that would fade by morning. “I’m going to cum soon…”

Something flashed across his face at the confession. His grip tightened. He pulled away again, forcing a frustrated sound from your throat before guiding you onto your back. In one swift motion, he lifted your hips and repositioned himself, wasting little time before pulling you close again. Sukuna groaned loudly, any remaining restraint disappearing as his pace became increasingly relentless.

“I’m about to—” you cried out, the words breaking apart before you could even finish them.

“Cum with me.” he whispered into your ear, his voice rough and husky.

The request sounded less like an order and more like a plea. Something in his tone sent a shiver through you.

His grip tightened instinctively, holding you closer as if putting distance between the two of you was physically impossible. Every uneven breath, every sound, every desperate movement seemed to blur together until there was nothing left beyond the overwhelming need for each other.

The two of you came apart at the same time.

For several seconds neither of you could do anything except breathe. Both breaths came uneven and ragged. Sukuna practically collapsed on top of you, his sweaty chest pressing against your back as he struggled to catch his breath, his forehead resting briefly against your shoulder.

He placed a kiss on your cheek, sweat still dripping down his forehead.

“You stink.” you murmured against the pillows.

“Like you smell any better.”

The two of you chuckled at the meaningless exchange.

Sukuna painfully moved off you and sat besides you, his back pressed on the headboard. “Wish I had a cig right now.” 

“You think this place has showers? I could go for one right now.” 

Sukuna sighed, getting off the bed and tossing your clothes back to you before grabbing his own and pulling them on. “Here, put these on before the others come. And no, I don't think so. Well, I haven't seen any, but if I did I'm definitely thinking about doing a part two for this.” 

He grabbed the phone from the top of the dresser, clicking the red button to stop the recording before walking back over to the bed. “Uhhh, I'll edit it later.”

Opening the gallery, he gave the video a quick review before making any major changes, like blurring out both your faces.

“Okay...” you lazily reached across the bed, grabbing your clothes and painfully pulling them back on. “You know, next time you don't have to be so rough.”

He paused the video and looked up, giving you a warm smile. “Sorry, angel.” he resumed the footage.

You cuddled against his side and closed your eyes, enjoying the chance to rest. For the first time in hours, neither of you were walking. Neither of you were searching. Neither of you were worrying about endless hallways or where the others had gone off to. 

The buzzing lights in the background seemed to grow louder and louder. 

Sukuna went quiet for a second, then asked, “Wait... what is that...?” his voice was softer now, kinda confused.

You opened one eye.

Sukuna brought the phone closer to his face and increased the brightness. “Hey babe, do you see this thing?” he shook your shoulder and flipped the screen to you.

Blinking away your exhaustion, you squinted at the footage. “No...? Is there supposed to be something?”

Sukuna frowned. His finger tapped a specific spot on the screen. “Right here in the corner. Doesn't the background look weird to you?”

You looked again, harder this time. The footage showed a dark hallway splitting into three directions: forward, left, and right. There was nothing unusual, at least nothing you could see.

“No. I don't see anything. What do you see?”

His expression slowly shifted. Curiosity. Confusion. Concern. Without answering, he stood up from the bed.

“Ryo?”

With his phone in hand, he began walking towards that same darkened corner visible in the recording. His figure disappeared into the shadows.

“Babe, come back here. There's nothing over there.” you lazily waved a hand, your face still pressed against the cheap cotton sheets.

No answer came. For a few seconds everything was silent. Then suddenly a loud terrifying scream. The sound echoed throughout the furniture store. 

Every hair on your body stood upright. A wave of nausea rolled through your stomach.

“Sukuna!” you sat upright immediately. The right part of your brain fought to take control. It was probably a joke, a prank. It wouldn't have been the first time your boyfriend decided to mess with you after sex.

“Ryomen, come back here!”

Nothing, only the noise of the ceiling lamps now becoming louder than before. 

The furniture store remained perfectly still. Tentatively, you climbed off the bed slowly. Each step felt heavier than the last as you approached the same darkened corner he had disappeared into. The shadows grew larger.

“Ryo, stop that. This isn't funny.” your voice came out smaller than intended. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs.

As you reached the doorway, your steps faltered, stopping before it. You tried your best to peer through the darkness, trying to find him, trying to hear something, anything, but there was nothing there. 

“Ryo... please come back. This isn't funny...” the bedsheet remained clutched tightly around your body as though it could somehow protect you.

Taking a shaky breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself, trying your best to feel brave and step into the hallway. The darkness swallowed you almost immediately.

“Ryo... where are you?” your voice echoed into the corridor.

Still no answer from him.

From somewhere behind you a sound. A horrible screeching noise. Getting closer. The movements were fast, too fast. 

Your heart stopped. Spinning around, you caught a glimpse of something illuminated by the distant lights of the furniture store. It was a tall dark shape. Its limbs seemed to bend in ways they shouldn't. And it was charging directly at you.

You opened your mouth and screamed. The thing lunged, and everything went dark.

Dividers by: @\somebitchprobably-graphicdump

“Nanami.”

Your surname comes as a reluctant greeting, and you have to fight back a smile. You probably don’t do a very good job, because he gives you a blistering glare.

“That was a cute speech,” his dark eyes narrow on you for a moment longer before he looks away. “Apart from your dig at my team, that is. It was a bit unnecessary, don’t you think?” Your lips part, but he barrels on. “We all work for the same company after all. There’s no need to make everything about winning.”

In your impromptu thank you speech, you expressed mild surprise at how well sales were doing, even though the company's marketing numbers were falling behind, dipping into dangerously low territory. You suggested that departments could collaborate and learn from each other, but it was clear which one you believed needed more attention.

“Of course,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. You see his eyes flick down to it, then back up again. “I apologise if it came across that way. It wasn’t my intention at all.”

He lifts an ashy brow, looking unimpressed, but he expected a snarky reply or barking laughter. The apology seems to catch him off guard.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, a hint of doubt in his voice.

Then, the remorse in your eyes hardens into something a lot more brittle, and it makes his hackles rise. Still touching his arm, you feign sympathy.

“I mean, you need real competition to win something, so pitting my team against yours just wouldn’t be fair.”

Nanami’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and when he opens his mouth, you take it as your cue to stand.

“I have to go, but please have some more cake? Who knows how long we’ll have to wait until we have something like this for marketing?”

A whispered curse follows you as you leave the room and you nearly cackle out loud. You weren’t usually that snippy, but the blonde-haired man always brought out the worst in you. 

You had only joined Kaito Corp—the global conglomerate dealing with all things retail, from food, clothing, and cosmetics—two years ago.

The extensive healthcare benefits, paired with the pay, had you barely skipping a beat when you handed in your resignation at your previous job. And it didn’t hurt that everyone was so welcoming when you arrived either—well, everyone except the six-foot shadow that was propped in the dark corner of the room, watching you with something bordering on indifference.

It took Nanami all of five seconds to decide he didn’t like you. His curt responses to you, contrasted with his quiet, gentlemanly politeness towards everyone else, and it made you dislike him too. So, for the last 24 months, the two of you snarled and clawed at each other like a pair of housecats. Passive aggression hung like a thick halo of smog whenever you interacted, and seeing how uncomfortable it made the rest of the office, you tried to steer clear of him.

But of course, it never worked.

It’s hard to believe there isn’t some higher—or lower—power out to get you. One who forces the two of you together like a pair of helpless magnets and watches the heated exchanges with rapt attention for their own enjoyment. And as you step into your office and get back to work, the email that pops up after a few minutes has you convinced that the sadist fuck of a deity is having a good laugh.

Good day,  I hope this email finds you well.  I have noticed that one of our London branches requires some attention. Fortunately, there is a networking conference scheduled for next week, and I would like to extend an invitation for you to attend. The conference will expose you to more companies that may be interested in partnering up with us and equip you with the necessary areas of interest for improvement in localisation.   I apologise for writing to you on such short notice, but I am afraid your attendance is mandatory. Kindly adjust your availability as flights are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Please find more details on accommodation and travel with my assistant, Miss C Hani. I look forward to your cooperation.  Best,  Jun Kaito.

The founder of the company emailing you directly is one thing, but the only other recipient that’s addressed is what makes the blood in your veins run cold: 

[email protected]

Why was he copied? Surely you weren’t expected to attend the conference with him, right? 

Wrong. 

If you thought you disliked him before, the man was properly situated in hate territory now.

On your way to the airport, there was a car accident that made you late for your flight, and he tore you a new one for the entire hour he sat prettily at departures, stressing you out further. You were forced to board a later flight, and that was the only moment of respite you got from his constant grumbling, but being stuck in the rental car together fires him up all over again.

“You know we probably lost our reservation at the hotel, right?”

“Would you give it a rest?” Your voice is a lot higher than it should be, and you don’t like that it makes him go quiet. As if he wanted a reaction out of you, and he finally got one. “I couldn’t exactly flip the totalled cars over to get through.”

The soft jazz filtering through the radio is at odds with the tension buzzing around the rest of the car, so potent it makes the windows rattle a little.

“You could have left earlier.”

“I left my house two hours early!”

“Everyone knows you're supposed to arrive at the airport two hours early.” 

Your fall quiet at that and at his sidelong look, you bristle. “That’s not a thing.”

“Definitely a thing.” He quips coolly, right in the middle of your sentence.

“If it bothered you so much then why didn’t you go ahead without me?”

The question falls on deaf ears as Nanami pretends he didn’t hear you, and today, you hate that you work together a little more than others. As a myriad of profanities would have slipped out a while ago if you weren’t convinced he’d report you to HR faster than you could blink.

You drive in silence to the hotel. The trip lasts only 20 minutes, but it feels like hours as you seethe in the passenger seat.

Upon arrival, he gives the valet the car keys, grabs his bag from the trunk, and heads to reception.

You scoff, and the valet comes to open your door, a younger man wearing a beanie and an all too wide smile when you thank him. Perspiration beads over your hairline from the effort it takes to heave your suitcase out of the trunk. 

You definitely overpacked.

You’re half rolling, half lobbing the bag through the lobby, when you see Nanami’s back as he stands near the front desk, so you head over.

The receptionist behind it is an older woman with salt and pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun and round glasses that frame the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Hello.” It doesn’t feel right to have an elder to call you ma’am as she greets you back, but you smile, nonetheless.

The woman, Marianne her name tag says, darts her eyes between you and the waste of energy at your side and from your peripheral, you see him tip his head heavenward and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Hotel’s fully booked for the rest of the week.”

Your eyes widen, and you look back at Marianne for confirmation. Sadly, it seems like he’s telling the truth.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am. It’s wedding season, so it’s a little packed.”

You pinch your eyes shut, and a furrow forms between your brows when Nanami’s annoying baritone tries to rub salt into the wound.

“If we got here on time—”

“Well, we didn’t.”

A throat clears, and you didn’t even realise the two of you were glowering at each other until you both turned back to the older woman. She types away on her laptop, then a megawatt smile pulls at her lips, beautifully aged wrinkles rippling.

“Ah, the presidential suite should be available in an hour or so. If you and your husband don’t mind waiting—”

“I’m not her husband.”

“Ugh.”

Nanami pauses, head slowly swivelling toward you. While his reply was monotonous, you sound damn near disgusted at the prospect, and your face pulls like you just swallowed a lemon whole.

Just as well. He thinks. He can’t stand being your coworker, so husband is out of the question. 

Marianne blanches as she realises her mistake, “Oh, my apologies. Just the way you argue, I would have thought—” she shakes her head. “Never mind that. Will the suite work?”

“Please tell me there isn’t only one bed.”

“You wish.” Nanami can’t help but whisper under his breath. He isn’t your biggest fan either, but did you have to sound that repulsed?

You yank your suitcase to your side, and its wheel rolls over his foot. No doubt crushing his toe under the heavy weight, if the pain-filled grunt that follows is anything to go by. It’s by far the best sound you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

“No, there are two rooms,” Marianne continues, far too wisened to pay attention to your childish antics longer than necessary. “But they’re adjoining.”

“The doors have locks, right?”

“You’re hilarious,” Nanami supplies dryly and fishes the business credit card out his pocket. “We’ll take it.”

The speedpoint chimes as he pays, and you can’t help but sigh. This was going to be one hell of a week. 

And hell, it was. 

Between the tedious meetings and constant networking, you’d be weary and practically dragging your feet when you make it back to the hotel room.  

On the third day, you fell onto the couch with a groan that would have made people think you were being murdered if they weren’t looking. So tired that you didn’t even blink when Nanami slumped down beside you, and for the first time in the years you’ve known him, also seeming put out as he threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes. 

You sit so close that your knees touch, but your body is too heavy to kick him away or snap at him to keep his distance, so you let your eyes fall shut. 

It pains you to remember that the two of you fell asleep on the couch that night.

Together.

Somehow going from sitting side by side to him being sprawled along the length of it, and you using him as a makeshift mattress as you lie atop him. A thick arm was loosely looped around your waist when you woke up, and even though it was the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, the embarrassment of it all didn’t stop you from sliding out of his hold as if you were lathered in gallons of butter. 

You’re 90% sure he was awake as you all but army crawled to your room, but neither of you brought it up in the following days. You thought that would be the end of it, but you only started tiptoeing around each other more as a new kind of tension settled between you. Not replacing what used to be there entirely, but just making it more charged.

You’d never admit it, but you died a little every time Nanami came out of the shower with the thin white towel wrapped around his hips and trickles of water dripping down plains of muscle his suits never showed. Your ogling lasts until you go to shower right after, only to curse him for finishing all the hot water. 

He’s the most inconsiderate person you've ever known, and no amount of sex appeal could change that. 

You wonder why he doesn’t change in the bathroom as you did. It's as if he relishes those twenty seconds of strutting from one room to the next like something out of a fitness magazine. When you tell him as much and accuse him of being unprofessional, he merely raises an eyebrow

“You don't hear me complaining about the short nightgowns you insist on wearing.” 

What? 

“There’s no way you’re trying to compare my pyjamas to you walking around half-naked.”

You scoff with your arms crossing over your chest, and it’s like the action draws his attention there. Clad in one of those gowns as you speak, Nanami leans down until he’s so close the scent of his body wash and shampoo wraps you in an intoxicating whirlwind.

“I caught a flash of your panties when you bent over earlier. I’d say it’s just as bad if not worse.”

You gasp, hand meeting his face, but it’s not a slap, not really. Your palm just smashes over its entirety, and you hear his sharp inhale before you push his head away with all your might (he barely moves).

“You’re a fucking pervert!”

With your cheeks burning, you don’t even give him time to reply, and you could be wrong, but instead of being angry like you intended, you almost think you hear a soft chuckle.

You’d kill him by the end of the trip. You were sure of it.

The next day at the conference, all you can focus on is how incredibly slow the week is going, and thinking it shows on your face, you force a smile when a group of execs walk over.

Judging by the gold bands on their ring fingers, all of them are married, but they definitely don’t act like it. Lecherous eyes look you over as if sizing up prey, and you shuffle from one foot to the other. One of the men keeps your hand in his a little too long after a handshake, and his dry lips pull into a sleazy grin, skin cracking a little from the effort, so he darts his tongue out. 

Your many years of experience are the only reason you don’t outwardly grimace when he says your name in a coaxing purr. 

“You’re absolutely ravishing. It's no wonder you were chosen to join us this week.” 

Right, because it had to be beauty and not all the hard work you put in that could land you in a room like this.

“Thank you?” Your eyes widen when he raises your hand to his lips as if he were about to kiss the back of it, until warmth feathers over the curve of your back, and you feel Nanami long before you hear him.

“Mr Samson.” The man comes up short when his name is called, and the sight of his shiny bald head and the wispy pieces of hair he laid in a forced comb-over disappears as he straightens. You take the opportunity to pull your hand out of his, and his eyes look over your head, then up, up, until he meets those of your blonde tormentor standing behind you.

“Mr Nanami.” Samson greets with that overly friendly expression on his face, nowhere in sight. 

“Gentlemen.” A hand lands on the small of your back, and he steps to your side, nodding at the rest of the pack. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal her away for a moment?”

He phrases that as a question, but doesn’t really give them time to answer when he steers you away from them. You can’t help but feel a rush of relief when he walks you to the door, and while it takes everything in you to swallow your pride, you whisper your thanks under your breath. 

It may have been too soft for him to hear because he doesn’t even spare you a glance as he closes the car door behind you. 

Once again, the drive back to the hotel was quiet, and unlike the awkwardly stiff silence that filled the car every other day, this time it wasn’t that bad.

You know you shouldn’t be this happy to have left early, and some people may mistake that for arrogance on the company’s part, but it is nice to have an early night for once.

You’d do damage control tomorrow. 

It would be the last day of mingling before the two of you went back home, and you won’t need to engage with him more than you were already forced to. You think it’s a good thing, but your spurring belly doesn’t seem to agree with you. 

When the car stops at the hotel’s entrance, you step out, and you only make it one step before you hear a loud “thwack!”. Your ankle rolls a little, and you stumble forward.

Looking down at your heel, you nearly weep at the sight of the broken stem, dangling precariously even when you lift your foot. You'd never feel comfortable telling anyone how much you spent on them, and now they were broken. Why do these things always happen to you?

“What’s wrong?” Kento asks as he comes to your side of the car. He follows your gaze as you look at your stiletto, and you place a hand against the hood, bending to take it off. “You can't walk around barefoot. You don't know what's on these floors.”

He says almost accusingly. As if you broke your shoe on purpose. 

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” 

You snipe at him and before your foot can touch the ground, a squeal pipes out when you’re lifted up.

A strong arm circles your back, and the other hooks around the underside of your knees. It happens so quickly, you almost feel like you’ve been sent flying. Trapped in a princess carry within a matter of seconds as has you spluttering in shock. “Have you lost your mind?!”

An arm momentarily leaves you, and you wind yours around his neck so you don’t fall on your ass. There’s a jingle as he hands the car keys over to the valet, and realising that someone else witnessed you being dragged like a sack of potatoes makes you squirm in his hold.

“Put me down.” You force through gritted teeth, and he walks into the lobby.

“In a minute.” He murmurs, not fazed in the slightest as his leather shoes clack over mosaic tiles.

“Now!”

“No.”

The sheer audacity of this man was almost impressive sometimes.

You find a little comfort in the fact that it’s so late no one other than the staff is in the lobby. But you catch sight of Marianne’s silvery hair and her simper as she watches the two of you recant the though. Her smile, paired with the feeling of Nanami’s hulking chest heating the side of your body, is enough to make you grip his shoulders, nails digging in warning.  

“You’re making a scene.”

“You’re the one yelling.” 

Because he was making a scene!

“I swear to god, Kento, if you don’t let me down right now I’m gonna bite you.”

And the idiot has the nerve to smirk in response to the threat. For someone who didn’t want you walking around barefoot, he didn’t seem to care that a human bite could pack so much bacteria the infection would take him out in days. 

“Don’t smile at that. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just surprised we’re on a first-name basis now.”

Your arms tighten around him again when his grip snags to press the elevator’s button. The doors open immediately, and he secures you against him once more and steps inside.

The elevator goes up a level, and your eyes impatiently flicker over his face when he still doesn’t let you down. You take in the sharp slope of his nose and his usually frowning mouth that has an imperceptible smile on it now. His glasses glint under the harsh lighting in the lift, the golden glare trying and failing to match his glossy hair.

“You’re staring.”

You stiffen in his arms, when brown eyes track over to you, you look away.

“As if.”

His chest rumbles against you as he laughs, and you hate yourself for melting a little at the sound.

The elevator dings open, and you give up on wiggling free when he swipes the key card at the door and steps inside the suite. The door is kicked closed behind him and he ambles to the couch. Your arms slide off Nanami’s shoulders when he sets you down with surprising gentleness, and just as you start to gather your bearings, he kneels in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You’re tempted to kick him.

But the man only takes hold of your leg with one hand and slips your shoe off with the other.

“You’re hurt.”

You look down at your foot. You numbed yourself to the ache in your feet around the fourth hour of being in heels, so the little pinch of pain that followed when one of the shoes broke didn’t even register.

Redness blooms near your ankle, so light that you need to squint to see it. 

“I’m fine,” you bare your teeth against the brush of his thumb over your instep. Nanami stands up, and a forceful exhalation passes through your lips. 

Finally.

He takes a seat next to you.

Nope, spoke too soon. 

“Let me see.”

“Huh?” Your head rears, and not wanting to repeat himself, he leans down, and a yodel sounds from you when he snatches your foot into the air.

Your hand pushes your pencil skirt further between your thighs when your legs open a little too wide for comfort, and not having a choice, you rotate your body and lean against the arm of the couch. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” A thumb presses the bruise on your foot. “Ow!”

“Shush.” The other stiletto is taken off too, and he adjusts your feet so they’re on his lap. “Tomorrow’s the last day of the conference, I can’t have you sabotage it by hobbling all over the place.”

And there it was. He wasn’t doing this to be nice. He was just worried about how you would look next to him. Vanity, you could handle. Your lips gape to tell him off, but his fingers work into a soft curve that has you faltering.

“Just sit still for a moment.”

That shouldn’t be much of a problem, seeing you’re frozen in place.

Calloused hands feel feather-light as they knead and stroke over your irritated skin. Languid but completely focused as he massages you so skilfully, the numbness fades in seconds. His knuckle skims along your sole, and your foot wiggles, a small giggle bubbling from the unintended tickle. Kento’s eyes lift to yours, a glint of amusement in them as he tickles you again, and your laughter turns into an annoyed grunt.

“Stop that.”

He listens. Partly. Because while he does let go of your foot, his fingers go up to trace over your ankle, and you’re still restless. The little quiver that rocks through you doesn’t go unnoticed.

Hazelnut eyes harden behind square glasses as he takes stock of you from head to toe, and when they find yours again, their shell cracks open to reveal a buttery chocolate centre that almost has you licking your lips.

Nanami’s hand pauses over your skin, and your disappointment must be written all over your face because he tilts his head at you. 

“You still want me to stop?”

You don’t. He knows that, but he still doesn’t move. And he won’t until you say it. 

“No.” You whisper under your breath, and you get a cocked eyebrow, wordlessly urging you to continue.

“No, what?”

Ugh, why was he being so difficult? He knew exactly what you meant. 

Every morsel of arousal you feel gets gobbled up by an unknown force, and you pull your legs away from him.

Fuck this. You’d sooner somersault off the rooftop than beg a man.

“Forget it.”

You stand up and only get half a step in before you’re yanked into his lap. He takes his glasses off, and the wavering breath you take is stolen when he slants his lips over yours. The kiss is demanding, almost punishing, that you weren’t bold enough to voice what you wanted.

He’ll have to remedy that.

“Don’t stop.”

Nanami grins up at you. The man was nothing if not tenacious. 

“Oh my god,” you hiccup, legs on either side of his hips as you straddle him on the couch. Your skirt is bunched up to your hips, panties pulled over to the side as lithe fingers thrust in and out of you.

Nanami leans forward and presses a kiss to your chin, a gentle peck that’s nothing like the mean plunge of his fingers into your cunt that has you fluttering pathetically around them. You were getting close again. The third time in a row as he brought you to the brink, and instead of letting you free-fall into unimaginable pleasure, he does something worse. He wrenches you back with all his might.

“Don’t.” You warn when you feel his fingers slow.

“You know the words I want to hear, sweetheart.” He says the petname like it’s an insult and damn you for squeezing around veiny digits harder. “Tell me you like it.”

Your eyes roll back when he hooks his fingers and pushes deeper.

“Tell me you like my fingers stretching you open for me.”

Your head shakes, and you aren’t even shocked when his fingers slide out of you. But the stinging pain of his palm smacking over your twitching clit? That knocks the air out of you and forces it out in nothing more than a soundless gasp.

“Fuck you,” you simmer once you’ve caught your breath, chest heaving painfully.

He only laughs in that rich whiskey quality that implores you to overindulge and drink him whole.

“Keep being a brat, and you won’t get to.” 

The heel of his hand covers your clit, nastily rubbing down and smearing glittering sticky wetness everywhere. 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

Teeth nip at your lips, just shy from drawing blood before he stops himself.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You’re shaking when he wraps an arm around you, vision flashing to white when he hikes you against him, drawing you to grind over his belt buckle as he carries you to the room. The soft bed resembles a fluffy cloud when he sets you on it and your body wars between feathery weightlessness and sluggishness as you sink into it. A pleasurable buzz looms over you when you draw yourself up to your elbows and find him taking his clothes off. His eyes zero in on the centre of your thighs, and he loosens his tie. 

There’s a little tremor in the action, hands momentarily faltering when you pull yourself to sit on your knees and help him. You feel the heat of his stare, then he’s undressing you too and there’s a quiet rasp of fabric ripping as his hands grow hurried. Then with a blink of the eye, all clothes are discarded in a messy bundle on the floor, and you’re both bare.

Nanami tries to lay you back onto the mattress, but unfortunately for him, you hold grudges like a drowning person to a lifeline. You would let yourself sink under the surface, and even as water garbled in your lungs and weighed you down a fraction of what it did to him, you refused to let him leave unscathed.

So when you twist your bodies and his back hits the mattress first, the wide-eyed look he gives you makes delighted goosebumps prick over your skin. You crawl up his body to straddle him, and his hands find your waist when you roll your slit along his cock. 

Nanami’s hips twitch up, only to groan when you lift yourself out of reach, withholding the friction he so desperately needs. He blinks up at you, eyes bleary and wild as the cogs turn in his head. Then the gears click into place.

“Ah, this is payback, is it?” His laugh has you grinding harder over his girth, and it turns into a hiss. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your reply, with your voice sickeningly sweet and hunger, makes his eyes glaze over. 

You finally allow yourself to look down at his cock, taking in the reddened flush of the length and the creamy drops of precum welling at his tip. As if drawn in by an irresistible force, you circle a hand around it, and the touch elicits something between a moan and a gasp from him. 

The sound is so soft, so ruined, it doesn’t even sound like him anymore. 

Your hand bops up and down over the heavy girth, and only after drawing out a moan do you line him up with your hole. But you don’t slide him inside just yet.

All the muscles in Nanami’s body bulge, then ripple as he struggles to stay still under you, and you casually glide the mushroom tip up and down your slit. 

“Feel good?”

Only a noncommittal hum escapes, and he folds his lip between his teeth, captivated as he watches you slide the crown of his head between puffy folds then pull it out again. 

Holy fuck. 

“Say it.”

Sandy brows furrow. He’s just as stubborn as you were, if not more. That’s why the two of you clashed like two bulls in an all too small enclosure. But with how sadistic you were at times, he fears you may actually leave him like this. Nanami stammers, and when you let an inch of his cock glide into you, he blurts the words out in a barely coherent blabber.

“Feels good, baby. Too good. You know it does—” and that’s all you needed. 

You bear down on him, and his words break off. Twin moans fill the lavish room as you sink further, and his cock bullies itself into you like it’s trying to make more room. Slippery walls flutter around it when you take him to the hilt, clit rolling into the fine dusting of hair at his base. Your head tips back when he meets you halfway with a shaky thrust of his hips upwards. 

The denied orgasms have you a little delirious as you bounce on him like your life depends on it, pausing when he nudges a spot that has you seeing white, only to slam down harder. 

The last spindles of Nanami’s patience unravel like a thread's frayed edge, and his hands seal around you, crushing you to his chest as his hips snap up to meet your thighs in loud slaps. 

“Ken,” His name is a fervent curse on your lips. A beseeching prayer that echoes through the room and seeks atonement as his balls draw up. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

It’s like his words bodily thrust you over first and leave you crying out with your release. Nanami buries his face in your hair when your cunt pulses hard around him, greedily trying to milk him of every drop he has. And you know you’ve won when heat spurs low in your belly as he empties himself into you with praises whispered into the soft tresses of your hair. 

You fall limp on top of him, and he holds you until both your bodies stop shaking. 

You pull back first, stomach churning, and while you’re not sure what emotions you were expecting to see on his face, the dopey-eyed look as he sports certainly isn’t one of them. 

A warm hand settles over your cheek as his eyes search yours.

“You good?”

Heart thumping hard in your chest, you only manage to give him a small nod. So, he cards a hand into your hair and settles you back against his broad chest. Eyes fluttering as they welcome the sort of deep sleep that only seems to blanket you when you’re with him. 

And soon enough, the lascivious haze of sex dissipates to leave a sliver of anxiety in its place. 

The two of you were an HR nightmare just waiting to happen. And the manager of that department, being the hell-bent bloodhound he was, would sniff out the scent of sex and deceit on your skin in a matter of seconds when you returned.

You’ll definitely have to steer clear of him until you improve your poker face by a couple of thousand notches. 

But the office building was relatively big, so surely, Hiromi couldn’t be that difficult to avoid.

…right?

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“Nanami.”

Your surname comes as a reluctant greeting, and you have to fight back a smile. You probably don’t do a very good job, because he gives you a blistering glare.

“That was a cute speech,” his dark eyes narrow on you for a moment longer before he looks away. “Apart from your dig at my team, that is. It was a bit unnecessary, don’t you think?” Your lips part, but he barrels on. “We all work for the same company after all. There’s no need to make everything about winning.”

In your impromptu thank you speech, you expressed mild surprise at how well sales were doing, even though the company's marketing numbers were falling behind, dipping into dangerously low territory. You suggested that departments could collaborate and learn from each other, but it was clear which one you believed needed more attention.

“Of course,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. You see his eyes flick down to it, then back up again. “I apologise if it came across that way. It wasn’t my intention at all.”

He lifts an ashy brow, looking unimpressed, but he expected a snarky reply or barking laughter. The apology seems to catch him off guard.

“Uh-huh,” he responds, a hint of doubt in his voice.

Then, the remorse in your eyes hardens into something a lot more brittle, and it makes his hackles rise. Still touching his arm, you feign sympathy.

“I mean, you need real competition to win something, so pitting my team against yours just wouldn’t be fair.”

Nanami’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and when he opens his mouth, you take it as your cue to stand.

“I have to go, but please have some more cake? Who knows how long we’ll have to wait until we have something like this for marketing?”

A whispered curse follows you as you leave the room and you nearly cackle out loud. You weren’t usually that snippy, but the blonde-haired man always brought out the worst in you. 

You had only joined Kaito Corp—the global conglomerate dealing with all things retail, from food, clothing, and cosmetics—two years ago.

The extensive healthcare benefits, paired with the pay, had you barely skipping a beat when you handed in your resignation at your previous job. And it didn’t hurt that everyone was so welcoming when you arrived either—well, everyone except the six-foot shadow that was propped in the dark corner of the room, watching you with something bordering on indifference.

It took Nanami all of five seconds to decide he didn’t like you. His curt responses to you, contrasted with his quiet, gentlemanly politeness towards everyone else, and it made you dislike him too. So, for the last 24 months, the two of you snarled and clawed at each other like a pair of housecats. Passive aggression hung like a thick halo of smog whenever you interacted, and seeing how uncomfortable it made the rest of the office, you tried to steer clear of him.

But of course, it never worked.

It’s hard to believe there isn’t some higher—or lower—power out to get you. One who forces the two of you together like a pair of helpless magnets and watches the heated exchanges with rapt attention for their own enjoyment. And as you step into your office and get back to work, the email that pops up after a few minutes has you convinced that the sadist fuck of a deity is having a good laugh.

Good day,  I hope this email finds you well.  I have noticed that one of our London branches requires some attention. Fortunately, there is a networking conference scheduled for next week, and I would like to extend an invitation for you to attend. The conference will expose you to more companies that may be interested in partnering up with us and equip you with the necessary areas of interest for improvement in localisation.   I apologise for writing to you on such short notice, but I am afraid your attendance is mandatory. Kindly adjust your availability as flights are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Please find more details on accommodation and travel with my assistant, Miss C Hani. I look forward to your cooperation.  Best,  Jun Kaito.

The founder of the company emailing you directly is one thing, but the only other recipient that’s addressed is what makes the blood in your veins run cold: 

[email protected]

Why was he copied? Surely you weren’t expected to attend the conference with him, right? 

Wrong. 

If you thought you disliked him before, the man was properly situated in hate territory now.

On your way to the airport, there was a car accident that made you late for your flight, and he tore you a new one for the entire hour he sat prettily at departures, stressing you out further. You were forced to board a later flight, and that was the only moment of respite you got from his constant grumbling, but being stuck in the rental car together fires him up all over again.

“You know we probably lost our reservation at the hotel, right?”

“Would you give it a rest?” Your voice is a lot higher than it should be, and you don’t like that it makes him go quiet. As if he wanted a reaction out of you, and he finally got one. “I couldn’t exactly flip the totalled cars over to get through.”

The soft jazz filtering through the radio is at odds with the tension buzzing around the rest of the car, so potent it makes the windows rattle a little.

“You could have left earlier.”

“I left my house two hours early!”

“Everyone knows you're supposed to arrive at the airport two hours early.” 

Your fall quiet at that and at his sidelong look, you bristle. “That’s not a thing.”

“Definitely a thing.” He quips coolly, right in the middle of your sentence.

“If it bothered you so much then why didn’t you go ahead without me?”

The question falls on deaf ears as Nanami pretends he didn’t hear you, and today, you hate that you work together a little more than others. As a myriad of profanities would have slipped out a while ago if you weren’t convinced he’d report you to HR faster than you could blink.

You drive in silence to the hotel. The trip lasts only 20 minutes, but it feels like hours as you seethe in the passenger seat.

Upon arrival, he gives the valet the car keys, grabs his bag from the trunk, and heads to reception.

You scoff, and the valet comes to open your door, a younger man wearing a beanie and an all too wide smile when you thank him. Perspiration beads over your hairline from the effort it takes to heave your suitcase out of the trunk. 

You definitely overpacked.

You’re half rolling, half lobbing the bag through the lobby, when you see Nanami’s back as he stands near the front desk, so you head over.

The receptionist behind it is an older woman with salt and pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun and round glasses that frame the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Hello.” It doesn’t feel right to have an elder to call you ma’am as she greets you back, but you smile, nonetheless.

The woman, Marianne her name tag says, darts her eyes between you and the waste of energy at your side and from your peripheral, you see him tip his head heavenward and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Hotel’s fully booked for the rest of the week.”

Your eyes widen, and you look back at Marianne for confirmation. Sadly, it seems like he’s telling the truth.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am. It’s wedding season, so it’s a little packed.”

You pinch your eyes shut, and a furrow forms between your brows when Nanami’s annoying baritone tries to rub salt into the wound.

“If we got here on time—”

“Well, we didn’t.”

A throat clears, and you didn’t even realise the two of you were glowering at each other until you both turned back to the older woman. She types away on her laptop, then a megawatt smile pulls at her lips, beautifully aged wrinkles rippling.

“Ah, the presidential suite should be available in an hour or so. If you and your husband don’t mind waiting—”

“I’m not her husband.”

“Ugh.”

Nanami pauses, head slowly swivelling toward you. While his reply was monotonous, you sound damn near disgusted at the prospect, and your face pulls like you just swallowed a lemon whole.

Just as well. He thinks. He can’t stand being your coworker, so husband is out of the question. 

Marianne blanches as she realises her mistake, “Oh, my apologies. Just the way you argue, I would have thought—” she shakes her head. “Never mind that. Will the suite work?”

“Please tell me there isn’t only one bed.”

“You wish.” Nanami can’t help but whisper under his breath. He isn’t your biggest fan either, but did you have to sound that repulsed?

You yank your suitcase to your side, and its wheel rolls over his foot. No doubt crushing his toe under the heavy weight, if the pain-filled grunt that follows is anything to go by. It’s by far the best sound you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth.

“No, there are two rooms,” Marianne continues, far too wisened to pay attention to your childish antics longer than necessary. “But they’re adjoining.”

“The doors have locks, right?”

“You’re hilarious,” Nanami supplies dryly and fishes the business credit card out his pocket. “We’ll take it.”

The speedpoint chimes as he pays, and you can’t help but sigh. This was going to be one hell of a week. 

And hell, it was. 

Between the tedious meetings and constant networking, you’d be weary and practically dragging your feet when you make it back to the hotel room.  

On the third day, you fell onto the couch with a groan that would have made people think you were being murdered if they weren’t looking. So tired that you didn’t even blink when Nanami slumped down beside you, and for the first time in the years you’ve known him, also seeming put out as he threw an arm over his face to shield his eyes. 

You sit so close that your knees touch, but your body is too heavy to kick him away or snap at him to keep his distance, so you let your eyes fall shut. 

It pains you to remember that the two of you fell asleep on the couch that night.

Together.

Somehow going from sitting side by side to him being sprawled along the length of it, and you using him as a makeshift mattress as you lie atop him. A thick arm was loosely looped around your waist when you woke up, and even though it was the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, the embarrassment of it all didn’t stop you from sliding out of his hold as if you were lathered in gallons of butter. 

You’re 90% sure he was awake as you all but army crawled to your room, but neither of you brought it up in the following days. You thought that would be the end of it, but you only started tiptoeing around each other more as a new kind of tension settled between you. Not replacing what used to be there entirely, but just making it more charged.

You’d never admit it, but you died a little every time Nanami came out of the shower with the thin white towel wrapped around his hips and trickles of water dripping down plains of muscle his suits never showed. Your ogling lasts until you go to shower right after, only to curse him for finishing all the hot water. 

He’s the most inconsiderate person you've ever known, and no amount of sex appeal could change that. 

You wonder why he doesn’t change in the bathroom as you did. It's as if he relishes those twenty seconds of strutting from one room to the next like something out of a fitness magazine. When you tell him as much and accuse him of being unprofessional, he merely raises an eyebrow

“You don't hear me complaining about the short nightgowns you insist on wearing.” 

What? 

“There’s no way you’re trying to compare my pyjamas to you walking around half-naked.”

You scoff with your arms crossing over your chest, and it’s like the action draws his attention there. Clad in one of those gowns as you speak, Nanami leans down until he’s so close the scent of his body wash and shampoo wraps you in an intoxicating whirlwind.

“I caught a flash of your panties when you bent over earlier. I’d say it’s just as bad if not worse.”

You gasp, hand meeting his face, but it’s not a slap, not really. Your palm just smashes over its entirety, and you hear his sharp inhale before you push his head away with all your might (he barely moves).

“You’re a fucking pervert!”

With your cheeks burning, you don’t even give him time to reply, and you could be wrong, but instead of being angry like you intended, you almost think you hear a soft chuckle.

You’d kill him by the end of the trip. You were sure of it.

The next day at the conference, all you can focus on is how incredibly slow the week is going, and thinking it shows on your face, you force a smile when a group of execs walk over.

Judging by the gold bands on their ring fingers, all of them are married, but they definitely don’t act like it. Lecherous eyes look you over as if sizing up prey, and you shuffle from one foot to the other. One of the men keeps your hand in his a little too long after a handshake, and his dry lips pull into a sleazy grin, skin cracking a little from the effort, so he darts his tongue out. 

Your many years of experience are the only reason you don’t outwardly grimace when he says your name in a coaxing purr. 

“You’re absolutely ravishing. It's no wonder you were chosen to join us this week.” 

Right, because it had to be beauty and not all the hard work you put in that could land you in a room like this.

“Thank you?” Your eyes widen when he raises your hand to his lips as if he were about to kiss the back of it, until warmth feathers over the curve of your back, and you feel Nanami long before you hear him.

“Mr Samson.” The man comes up short when his name is called, and the sight of his shiny bald head and the wispy pieces of hair he laid in a forced comb-over disappears as he straightens. You take the opportunity to pull your hand out of his, and his eyes look over your head, then up, up, until he meets those of your blonde tormentor standing behind you.

“Mr Nanami.” Samson greets with that overly friendly expression on his face, nowhere in sight. 

“Gentlemen.” A hand lands on the small of your back, and he steps to your side, nodding at the rest of the pack. “I hope you don’t mind if I steal her away for a moment?”

He phrases that as a question, but doesn’t really give them time to answer when he steers you away from them. You can’t help but feel a rush of relief when he walks you to the door, and while it takes everything in you to swallow your pride, you whisper your thanks under your breath. 

It may have been too soft for him to hear because he doesn’t even spare you a glance as he closes the car door behind you. 

Once again, the drive back to the hotel was quiet, and unlike the awkwardly stiff silence that filled the car every other day, this time it wasn’t that bad.

You know you shouldn’t be this happy to have left early, and some people may mistake that for arrogance on the company’s part, but it is nice to have an early night for once.

You’d do damage control tomorrow. 

It would be the last day of mingling before the two of you went back home, and you won’t need to engage with him more than you were already forced to. You think it’s a good thing, but your spurring belly doesn’t seem to agree with you. 

When the car stops at the hotel’s entrance, you step out, and you only make it one step before you hear a loud “thwack!”. Your ankle rolls a little, and you stumble forward.

Looking down at your heel, you nearly weep at the sight of the broken stem, dangling precariously even when you lift your foot. You'd never feel comfortable telling anyone how much you spent on them, and now they were broken. Why do these things always happen to you?

“What’s wrong?” Kento asks as he comes to your side of the car. He follows your gaze as you look at your stiletto, and you place a hand against the hood, bending to take it off. “You can't walk around barefoot. You don't know what's on these floors.”

He says almost accusingly. As if you broke your shoe on purpose. 

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” 

You snipe at him and before your foot can touch the ground, a squeal pipes out when you’re lifted up.

A strong arm circles your back, and the other hooks around the underside of your knees. It happens so quickly, you almost feel like you’ve been sent flying. Trapped in a princess carry within a matter of seconds as has you spluttering in shock. “Have you lost your mind?!”

An arm momentarily leaves you, and you wind yours around his neck so you don’t fall on your ass. There’s a jingle as he hands the car keys over to the valet, and realising that someone else witnessed you being dragged like a sack of potatoes makes you squirm in his hold.

“Put me down.” You force through gritted teeth, and he walks into the lobby.

“In a minute.” He murmurs, not fazed in the slightest as his leather shoes clack over mosaic tiles.

“Now!”

“No.”

The sheer audacity of this man was almost impressive sometimes.

You find a little comfort in the fact that it’s so late no one other than the staff is in the lobby. But you catch sight of Marianne’s silvery hair and her simper as she watches the two of you recant the though. Her smile, paired with the feeling of Nanami’s hulking chest heating the side of your body, is enough to make you grip his shoulders, nails digging in warning.  

“You’re making a scene.”

“You’re the one yelling.” 

Because he was making a scene!

“I swear to god, Kento, if you don’t let me down right now I’m gonna bite you.”

And the idiot has the nerve to smirk in response to the threat. For someone who didn’t want you walking around barefoot, he didn’t seem to care that a human bite could pack so much bacteria the infection would take him out in days. 

“Don’t smile at that. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just surprised we’re on a first-name basis now.”

Your arms tighten around him again when his grip snags to press the elevator’s button. The doors open immediately, and he secures you against him once more and steps inside.

The elevator goes up a level, and your eyes impatiently flicker over his face when he still doesn’t let you down. You take in the sharp slope of his nose and his usually frowning mouth that has an imperceptible smile on it now. His glasses glint under the harsh lighting in the lift, the golden glare trying and failing to match his glossy hair.

“You’re staring.”

You stiffen in his arms, when brown eyes track over to you, you look away.

“As if.”

His chest rumbles against you as he laughs, and you hate yourself for melting a little at the sound.

The elevator dings open, and you give up on wiggling free when he swipes the key card at the door and steps inside the suite. The door is kicked closed behind him and he ambles to the couch. Your arms slide off Nanami’s shoulders when he sets you down with surprising gentleness, and just as you start to gather your bearings, he kneels in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You’re tempted to kick him.

But the man only takes hold of your leg with one hand and slips your shoe off with the other.

“You’re hurt.”

You look down at your foot. You numbed yourself to the ache in your feet around the fourth hour of being in heels, so the little pinch of pain that followed when one of the shoes broke didn’t even register.

Redness blooms near your ankle, so light that you need to squint to see it. 

“I’m fine,” you bare your teeth against the brush of his thumb over your instep. Nanami stands up, and a forceful exhalation passes through your lips. 

Finally.

He takes a seat next to you.

Nope, spoke too soon. 

“Let me see.”

“Huh?” Your head rears, and not wanting to repeat himself, he leans down, and a yodel sounds from you when he snatches your foot into the air.

Your hand pushes your pencil skirt further between your thighs when your legs open a little too wide for comfort, and not having a choice, you rotate your body and lean against the arm of the couch. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” A thumb presses the bruise on your foot. “Ow!”

“Shush.” The other stiletto is taken off too, and he adjusts your feet so they’re on his lap. “Tomorrow’s the last day of the conference, I can’t have you sabotage it by hobbling all over the place.”

And there it was. He wasn’t doing this to be nice. He was just worried about how you would look next to him. Vanity, you could handle. Your lips gape to tell him off, but his fingers work into a soft curve that has you faltering.

“Just sit still for a moment.”

That shouldn’t be much of a problem, seeing you’re frozen in place.

Calloused hands feel feather-light as they knead and stroke over your irritated skin. Languid but completely focused as he massages you so skilfully, the numbness fades in seconds. His knuckle skims along your sole, and your foot wiggles, a small giggle bubbling from the unintended tickle. Kento’s eyes lift to yours, a glint of amusement in them as he tickles you again, and your laughter turns into an annoyed grunt.

“Stop that.”

He listens. Partly. Because while he does let go of your foot, his fingers go up to trace over your ankle, and you’re still restless. The little quiver that rocks through you doesn’t go unnoticed.

Hazelnut eyes harden behind square glasses as he takes stock of you from head to toe, and when they find yours again, their shell cracks open to reveal a buttery chocolate centre that almost has you licking your lips.

Nanami’s hand pauses over your skin, and your disappointment must be written all over your face because he tilts his head at you. 

“You still want me to stop?”

You don’t. He knows that, but he still doesn’t move. And he won’t until you say it. 

“No.” You whisper under your breath, and you get a cocked eyebrow, wordlessly urging you to continue.

“No, what?”

Ugh, why was he being so difficult? He knew exactly what you meant. 

Every morsel of arousal you feel gets gobbled up by an unknown force, and you pull your legs away from him.

Fuck this. You’d sooner somersault off the rooftop than beg a man.

“Forget it.”

You stand up and only get half a step in before you’re yanked into his lap. He takes his glasses off, and the wavering breath you take is stolen when he slants his lips over yours. The kiss is demanding, almost punishing, that you weren’t bold enough to voice what you wanted.

He’ll have to remedy that.

“Don’t stop.”

Nanami grins up at you. The man was nothing if not tenacious. 

“Oh my god,” you hiccup, legs on either side of his hips as you straddle him on the couch. Your skirt is bunched up to your hips, panties pulled over to the side as lithe fingers thrust in and out of you.

Nanami leans forward and presses a kiss to your chin, a gentle peck that’s nothing like the mean plunge of his fingers into your cunt that has you fluttering pathetically around them. You were getting close again. The third time in a row as he brought you to the brink, and instead of letting you free-fall into unimaginable pleasure, he does something worse. He wrenches you back with all his might.

“Don’t.” You warn when you feel his fingers slow.

“You know the words I want to hear, sweetheart.” He says the petname like it’s an insult and damn you for squeezing around veiny digits harder. “Tell me you like it.”

Your eyes roll back when he hooks his fingers and pushes deeper.

“Tell me you like my fingers stretching you open for me.”

Your head shakes, and you aren’t even shocked when his fingers slide out of you. But the stinging pain of his palm smacking over your twitching clit? That knocks the air out of you and forces it out in nothing more than a soundless gasp.

“Fuck you,” you simmer once you’ve caught your breath, chest heaving painfully.

He only laughs in that rich whiskey quality that implores you to overindulge and drink him whole.

“Keep being a brat, and you won’t get to.” 

The heel of his hand covers your clit, nastily rubbing down and smearing glittering sticky wetness everywhere. 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

Teeth nip at your lips, just shy from drawing blood before he stops himself.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You’re shaking when he wraps an arm around you, vision flashing to white when he hikes you against him, drawing you to grind over his belt buckle as he carries you to the room. The soft bed resembles a fluffy cloud when he sets you on it and your body wars between feathery weightlessness and sluggishness as you sink into it. A pleasurable buzz looms over you when you draw yourself up to your elbows and find him taking his clothes off. His eyes zero in on the centre of your thighs, and he loosens his tie. 

There’s a little tremor in the action, hands momentarily faltering when you pull yourself to sit on your knees and help him. You feel the heat of his stare, then he’s undressing you too and there’s a quiet rasp of fabric ripping as his hands grow hurried. Then with a blink of the eye, all clothes are discarded in a messy bundle on the floor, and you’re both bare.

Nanami tries to lay you back onto the mattress, but unfortunately for him, you hold grudges like a drowning person to a lifeline. You would let yourself sink under the surface, and even as water garbled in your lungs and weighed you down a fraction of what it did to him, you refused to let him leave unscathed.

So when you twist your bodies and his back hits the mattress first, the wide-eyed look he gives you makes delighted goosebumps prick over your skin. You crawl up his body to straddle him, and his hands find your waist when you roll your slit along his cock. 

Nanami’s hips twitch up, only to groan when you lift yourself out of reach, withholding the friction he so desperately needs. He blinks up at you, eyes bleary and wild as the cogs turn in his head. Then the gears click into place.

“Ah, this is payback, is it?” His laugh has you grinding harder over his girth, and it turns into a hiss. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your reply, with your voice sickeningly sweet and hunger, makes his eyes glaze over. 

You finally allow yourself to look down at his cock, taking in the reddened flush of the length and the creamy drops of precum welling at his tip. As if drawn in by an irresistible force, you circle a hand around it, and the touch elicits something between a moan and a gasp from him. 

The sound is so soft, so ruined, it doesn’t even sound like him anymore. 

Your hand bops up and down over the heavy girth, and only after drawing out a moan do you line him up with your hole. But you don’t slide him inside just yet.

All the muscles in Nanami’s body bulge, then ripple as he struggles to stay still under you, and you casually glide the mushroom tip up and down your slit. 

“Feel good?”

Only a noncommittal hum escapes, and he folds his lip between his teeth, captivated as he watches you slide the crown of his head between puffy folds then pull it out again. 

Holy fuck. 

“Say it.”

Sandy brows furrow. He’s just as stubborn as you were, if not more. That’s why the two of you clashed like two bulls in an all too small enclosure. But with how sadistic you were at times, he fears you may actually leave him like this. Nanami stammers, and when you let an inch of his cock glide into you, he blurts the words out in a barely coherent blabber.

“Feels good, baby. Too good. You know it does—” and that’s all you needed. 

You bear down on him, and his words break off. Twin moans fill the lavish room as you sink further, and his cock bullies itself into you like it’s trying to make more room. Slippery walls flutter around it when you take him to the hilt, clit rolling into the fine dusting of hair at his base. Your head tips back when he meets you halfway with a shaky thrust of his hips upwards. 

The denied orgasms have you a little delirious as you bounce on him like your life depends on it, pausing when he nudges a spot that has you seeing white, only to slam down harder. 

The last spindles of Nanami’s patience unravel like a thread's frayed edge, and his hands seal around you, crushing you to his chest as his hips snap up to meet your thighs in loud slaps. 

“Ken,” His name is a fervent curse on your lips. A beseeching prayer that echoes through the room and seeks atonement as his balls draw up. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” 

It’s like his words bodily thrust you over first and leave you crying out with your release. Nanami buries his face in your hair when your cunt pulses hard around him, greedily trying to milk him of every drop he has. And you know you’ve won when heat spurs low in your belly as he empties himself into you with praises whispered into the soft tresses of your hair. 

You fall limp on top of him, and he holds you until both your bodies stop shaking. 

You pull back first, stomach churning, and while you’re not sure what emotions you were expecting to see on his face, the dopey-eyed look as he sports certainly isn’t one of them. 

A warm hand settles over your cheek as his eyes search yours.

“You good?”

Heart thumping hard in your chest, you only manage to give him a small nod. So, he cards a hand into your hair and settles you back against his broad chest. Eyes fluttering as they welcome the sort of deep sleep that only seems to blanket you when you’re with him. 

And soon enough, the lascivious haze of sex dissipates to leave a sliver of anxiety in its place. 

The two of you were an HR nightmare just waiting to happen. And the manager of that department, being the hell-bent bloodhound he was, would sniff out the scent of sex and deceit on your skin in a matter of seconds when you returned.

You’ll definitely have to steer clear of him until you improve your poker face by a couple of thousand notches. 

But the office building was relatively big, so surely, Hiromi couldn’t be that difficult to avoid.

…right?

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He grins. Mischief glinting in his eyes, like he knew the effect he had on you. “I asked you a question: do you want a booth, or a regular seat?”

Blinking, you shrug. “A booth, if possible.”

Nodding, your white-haired dreamboat turns to grab a menu from the rack at the counter, giving you a brief second to peek at his physique again. Ogling him and his chest, briefly noticing the nametag pinned to his left breast.

Satoru. 

Of course a cute guy would have a cute name.

Satoru steps back towards you, hoisting the menu to his elbow and motioning you to follow with his other hand. “C’mon, this way,” he directs, one palm open at your side, weaving and navigating with the expertise of someone who was obviously familiar with the busy terrain. “It’s a little busy today, sorry.”

“No worries, I understand,” you try to offer, nodding in understanding. Attempting to not trip over yourself when he smiles in your direction. “Are you going to be my server?”

He laughs at that, leaving you a little confused for a second before he adds on, “I wish, but no. I’m up at the front desk today. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they take extra good care of you.”

You hum, fiddling with the corner of the textbook. Let him set the menu down on the empty booth table before sliding into one side of it, dropping your things in their respective places. 

Embarrassingly stuttering over your words, you nod again. “O-okay. Sounds good.”

Satoru flashes one last customer-service smile at you, though it doesn’t exactly resemble the politeness he seemed to be trying to emanate. It was a little sly, deceitful in the way a wolf could be when luring a sheep directly into the pack den. 

“Don’t worry, the guys’ll love you,” he assures. Giving you a two-finger salute before disappearing back towards his seat at the front counter.

Settling in your seat, you finally set the textbook on the top of the table and flip it open to the page you dog-eared previously. Skimming over the paragraphs until you found where you were struggling before, thumbing open your notebook and uncapping your pen to take notes.

Beginning to scrawl in quick, jagged handwriting: the rectus abdominis muscles are crossed by three fibrounds bands…

You don’t know how long you write. Finally getting into a rhythm of reading and annotating on your own sheet, looking between each bracket of information and studying the diagrams of muscle filaments and their placements over sheaths and cartilage.

A shadow falls over your textbook, cutting the light from above. Lifting your head, you meet the eyes of the most handsome man you think you’ve ever seen— tan skin, sharp jawline, full lips bisected at the left side by a thin scar.

And those eyes. Shades of emerald and jade narrowing down at you as you stare up at him, black hair chopped just above his eyebrows and framing his ears. Adam’s apple bobbing before he finally speaks in such a deep voice that you can’t help but tremble a little.

What? It’s not like you were exactly experienced when it came to talking to guys in this caliber of good-looking.

Especially not the kind that would blatantly flex every muscle in their arms and chest when your gaze just so happened to trail down, down, down over and over like a compass seeking north.

“My name’s Toji, I’ll be your server,” he greets. Yet again tensing his bicep against the rolled fabric of his cotton t-shirt, thin black fabric tightening over the cords of muscle. “Do you still need time to look over the menu?”

You blink. Try to swallow the spit that’s pooled beneath your tongue. Jerking your focus from his very-handsome face to instead glance at the menu, then back at him.

Forcing your focus on anything but the way the corners of his lips twitch in amusement when you lick your lips at the sight of him again. 

“Umm, I’ve never been here before,” you trail off, squirming a little under his attention. “Can I just get what you usually get instead?”

His brow raises. Echoing your words, “What I usually get?”

You chew your bottom lip. “Well, yeah. Like something to drink.”

Was that a weird request? You didn’t think so, but the way he was staring at you—

“Alright, then,” Toji shrugs. “Just don’t say you hate it.”

Turning away, he leaves you there for a few minutes. You peek towards the employee entrance to the kitchen just to see him leaning up against the open door, arms crossed as he talks to someone obscured by the other door. 

Would it be tacky to leave your number on a napkin when you leave?

Deliberating over your future choice rather than trying to cram in a couple extra minutes of studying, hardly noticing his return until he set down a paper cup that was definitely not from here.

Oh well. Sniffing at the contents, it smells pleasantly enough. Even if it ended up being poison, atleast you wouldn’t have to end up taking the exam and potentially flunking it again.

“Order up,” he hums, leaning forward to peer at your textbook again. Curiously questioning, “Whatcha studying for?”

Lifting the cup, you swallow a sip and subsequently cough as it goes down the wrong pipe, cheeks flushing hot as you clear your throat. “Anatomy for a test I flunked,” you answer. Tittering, “I was hoping I’d be able to reference some of the employees here, but it’s a little distracting.”

Suddenly a little self-conscious, you peek up at him. Looking between his emerald eyes for a hint on his perception of you.

Did he think you were weird? Sure, you were okay with being labelled a geek— hell, most days you took pride in the title— but now? When you might have the chance of getting a hot guy's number if you played your cards right?

Being single was starting to get a little lonely. Who would blame you if you tried to change that?

Toji, despite your worries, seems to take your answer with newfound interest. Casually nodding as he speaks up again. “Cool. I actually studied kinesiology in college, so I could try to help you out, if you want. No pressure.”

Cute and smart?

Jackpot!

You nod, maybe a little more eagerly than intended. But he doesn’t seem to mind.

Instead letting himself leaaannn over the edge of the table, large palms splayed flat against the dark wood. The cords of his deltoids flex just beneath the hem of the shirt, close enough now that you could distinctly make out the citrus and sandalwood notes of his cologne beneath the tang of a long shift. 

He reads your notes quickly, plump lower lip caught between his teeth before he lets it snap free. Reaching up and out, he taps a blunt finger over your notes.

“You should make acronyms to remember the proper names better,” Toji advises, glancing at your expression before looking back to the spiral-bound pages. “Helped me out a little, atleast. Been a while since I was in school though, so I dunno if they’re teachin’ different things now.”

Before you can respond, a tattooed arm loops over Toji’s shoulder, your server’s form crowded closer to you as a taller, bulkier man sidles his way in.

“Don’t tell me you’re holding out on the Employee of the Month now, Fushiguro,” the second man drawls, finally stepping into sight. His grin is all teeth, charming and predatory in the way he oozes easy confidence. 

Pretty pink dyed hair tussled into a wild arrangement that barely concealed the dark roots returning, jawline blunt and eyes crinkling at the corners. Studs pierced into the lobes of his ears and thin bars prodding between the curved shells. Tattoos loop around his wrists, forearms, biceps and more, disappearing beneath the hem of an equally thin t-shirt, reappearing again along the sharper edges of his jaw and cheekbones. 

The kind of ink that’d turn most businesses away for fear of criminal activity.

The kind that was oh so affectionately titled a ‘career killer.’

It certainly didn’t kill the mood. If anything, your thighs squeezed together, gaze rovering down his front before refocusing back up to their faces.

What were the odds of a business having three hot employees?

Twenty-three percent?

Less, probably.

Toji, however, doesn’t find the intrusion pleasant. Turning his scarred lips down into a scowl as he levels his gaze at his colleague. “Man, fuck you. She’s in my section, not yours.”

His colleague only snickers. “Gojo sent me over here. Said you might need help ‘lessening your load’ since you seemed a little overworked. Don’t worry, I can take care of her plenty— show her all the ropes, teach her alllll different kinds of muscles.”

And judging from the way Toji’s chest puffs up, that seemed to be a sore spot between the two of them. With wide eyes, you watch as the two of them face off, muscles flexing and knuckles popping in silent competition.

It was like watching the Discovery Channel all over again. You could practically hear the narrator droning on in the back of your mind about pack dynamics, the fights for dominance between alphas, the consequences if neither won or stood down…

“Um, excuse me,” you finally chirp, voice wavering a little. Eyes growing wider when both heads whipped towards you as if suddenly reminded that you were right there listening to them. Both sets of irises are dark and wild with challenge. 

Swallowing, you regret speaking up for a moment. Subtly kicking yourself in the ankle beneath the table to spur yourself to continue.

“Maybe you both could help me study?” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Did you really just say that aloud? Trying to amend it quickly, “Sorry, I just thought that it might be better to learn if there’s multiple examples and techniques.”

Maybe the world would swallow you whole if you were lucky enough. 

The duo looks at you. Then to each other. Then back to you.

The second man recovers first. “Shit, yeah?”

“No, she didn’t mean it like that,” Toji cuts in. Glaring at his colleague, shifting his shoulder just enough that you could finally peek at the namebadge stuck to the other’s hidden pectoral.

Sukuna. 

Fuck it. What were the odds you’d get an opportunity like this again?

 You insist with a nod. “But I do, though.”

Sukuna blinks. Toji blinks. Both look at you like you’ve descended from the heavens.

“Yeah?” Toji murmurs. Lids lowering halfway as he puts his focus on you. “Shit.”

“Told you,” Sukuna pridefully hums. He knocks his head back, chin tipping towards a beaded curtain that presumably hid the employee hallway. “Knew I liked you. C’mon, pretty girl. Old man’s gotta pick his jaw up from the floor, it’ll take a minute.”

An offer you don’t dare question, instead picking up your things and cradling them in your arms as you slide yourself from the center of the booth to the end, following after the duo towards the back. Letting them guide you down a second hallway that splits off from the first, watching as Toji shoulders open a door and checks for residents before opening it fully to let you and Sukuna in.

Mere seconds after you cross the threshold, Toji’s letting the door swing and thump Sukuna’s shoulder as he walks in behind you, choosing to fit his palms on either side of your hips and walk you back towards the breakroom table. A gesture that would’ve been faintly sweet if it weren’t for the absolute heat smoldering in his irises.

Letting him crowd you up against it before your hands fly to his chest, positively quivering when Toji leans low enough to speak next to your ear. “Well? Go ahead and start studying, doll. Got a perfect model right here f’you.”

Cheeks warming, you’re stammering out, “O-okay.” Lifting your hands up to slip beneath his shirt, forcing your focus to the man in front of you rather than the one over his shoulder who was making a show of locking the door. “Like this?”

When your palms make contact with his abdomen, two things happen. One, Toji hisses at the brush of clammy skin against his infernally-heated flesh. Two, his hips jut forward, and you let out the loudest gasp possible.

Not because he had a set of abs so perfect hidden beneath his shirt that it should’ve been a crime— even though he did— but because the thick line of his crotch bumped against your lower belly. Erection so firm and prominent that the single brush of contact had you nearly squealing and wrenching your hands off of him.

“Whatever you want,” Toji murmurs, the low rumble of his voice catching your breath. He drags the tip of his nose across the crown of your head, dragging in the scent of your shampoo by the lungful. “Ain’t gonna bite if you want to go lower, though.”

Sukuna snorts behind him, but doesn’t say anything. Just leans up against the wall and watches as you continue to explore without correction. 

Toji turns his head to look over his shoulder, frowning. Reaching back behind his head and tugging his shirt up and off, revealing the sculpted torso of someone who very clearly enjoyed laborious hours at the gym. 

And fuck if you aren’t totally drinking it in. Even the finest marble statues didn’t portray the potential of man that Toji so easily did— bulging pectorals with tanned nipples faintly erect from the air conditioning, biceps filled out and flexed taut, prominent veins zig-zagging up and down and down from the crook of his elbow to the heel of his palms. 

Those abs, though… a perfect eight-pack ladder stacked and ridged to perfection, three thin veins crawling up towards his navel from just beneath the band of his bottoms. A prominent v-line cutting off where he pushes the waistband down just enough to show off the small dusting of coarse black hair that peeked out.

Mindlessly letting your palms descend until the tips of your fingers barely brush the pubis bone. Whispering more to yourself than him, “It’s… impressive.”

Toji chuckles, abs flexing. “Just impressive?”

You lift your eyes to his. Swallowing the saliva that pooled beneath your tongue. “You’ve got a really nice definition.”

Toji hums above you, clearly pleased. Raising his voice just loud enough that Sukuna would hear from across the room, “Hear that, jackass? She said I’ve got a really nice definition.”

Said man crosses the room and peels his own shirt from his torso without thought, shouldering Toji aside and taking his place in front of you. Pulling you from where you half-sat on the edge of the table to put you right in front of him.

“Nah, she just hasn’t seen real strength yet,” Sukuna growls. Wrapping one massive hand around your wrist to guide you to touch the plush bulk of his pectoral. Close enough now that when he leans forward you can clearly see the dark carmine hues of his irises twinkle. “Too busy fuckin’ around with wimps.”

You take the chance to survey him. Where Toji was all definition and meticulously built with precise cuts and edges, Sukuna was bulky and broad. Muscles thicker and less defined like he was mid bulking season permanently, pectorals bulging with the quality of a perfectly firm pillow. 

The tattoos formerly covered by his shirt span down and cut jagged lines over the twin loops hooking through dusty-rose coloured nipples, beginning again along his sides until they cut off just above the ridge of his jeans. Trimmed above the belt rather than letting it grow as wild as his hair was.

“See, brat? Tell him I’ve got a better physique,” Sukuna frowns. Competitive. 

“Man, why don’t you fuck off somewhere?” Toji grunts, reaching around you to swat at the other man with an open palm. Turning you back to face him and pulling you into his chest, face buried between his pecs. “Nobody wants to see your fat ass around here anyways.”

“Says the broke guy who sneaks cakes out the back door—”

You pry yourself from Toji’s chest, cheeks flaming hot as you interrupt. “You’re both really fit, isn’t that good enough?”

Their eyes turn to you, brows furrowed in the same expression. Like you’d just failed the most obvious test known to man despite both of them wanting a different answer.

Oops. 

Toji presses closer, sandwiching you firmly between them. One large hand raised up to cup your jaw with false sweetness, guiding your face upwards to look at him and solely him. Suddenly so sweet that you’re sure he’s leading you into a trap.

“You’re supposed to be the smart one, aren’t you?” Toji drawls. Thumbpad smearing your plush lower lip down and letting it pop free. “C’monn, use that pretty brain and tell us who you think is really better.”

You chew at your lip. “Well… you have a really great insertion in your obliques,” Toji hums at that, already approving. Your hands shift to trail over his abdomen, all while Sukuna crowds behind you. “And a prominent Adonis belt.”

Sukuna’s deeper voice rumbles behind you. “Bet mine feels better, though. Go ahead and tell ‘em.”

Toji’s eyes lift to look at the man behind you. Staring each other down over your head. 

Offering in favor of balancing the scales again, “Mmh, Sukuna does have a pretty defined serratus anterior.”

Which pleases Sukuna far more than you thought possible. “See, Fushiguro? She likes my serra-tits.”

“She said serratus, moron.”

Toji crowds in closer. Sukuna matches the action. Stuck between them, you truly question whether it’d be possible to suffocate with what little space you had between the two hulks of muscle. 

Oh well. If this was the way you died, you’d die happy.

Faintly listening to Sukuna’s retort, “I’ll show you some serra-tits—”

And Toji’s correction, “Serratus—”

Before finally cutting in once more. “Can you two ease off or something?”

Their jaws click shut so fast you think you can hear the audible snap. 

Toji’s hand flexes before he drops it to your hip, finally regarding you again as he drops his verdant gaze back down to yours— eyes flitting between both of yours to catalogue the flush that’s ridden high on your cheeks and the slight expansion of your pupils.

“How about this,” Toji’s voice lowers, rumbling as he leans lower down towards you. His breath fans out across your lips, the slight tang of cigarettes sweetened by a fruitier dessert he must’ve had sometime during his shift. “We’ll stop fighting if you can tell us who you want to kiss more. Me, or him?”

“O-oh?” You blink. A subtle shiver runs up your spine, sparks tingling outwards at the very prospect. Noticing how close Toji was, close enough to see the faint flecks of gold and darker green surrounding his expanded pupils. 

Lowering your eyes just enough to glance at his lips, imagining the plush skin pushing against yours. Wondering how the scar would feel across yours, whether it’d be soft or rough. Deciding in an instant, “You.”

“Atta girl,” Toji grins. He drops his head towards yours, one hand lifting to cradle the back of your neck, meeting you in an absolutely filthy kiss from the start. His tongue swipes over your lips in a quick request for more, immediately met when your mouth parts to accept him. 

Pitifully moaning into his mouth when his other hand holds firm on your hip, pulling you close to him. Breasts pillowing against his chest as he gulps you down, nipping and tugging at your lower lip, practically feasting on you.

Parting reluctantly with a wet smack when air becomes a necessity, a string of spit clinging between your tongues until it snaps with a wet pah! and spatters against your chin. 

Toji doesn’t back off. Instead, his eyes flick above your head where his neglected colleague stands. Speaking to you without tearing his eyes from Sukuna. “Tell ‘Kuna bye-bye, baby. Toji’ll take care of you all by himself.”

Sukuna snorts, looming in behind you until his chest presses to your back. You’re suddenly aware of a certain man’s arousal tented against your ass, rubbing discreetly with every shift of his hips. 

“Naw— tell Jiji here you don’t want me to leave,” Sukuna rumbles, the smile obvious in his voice. His large, broad hands loop around you, just barely shy of hovering the cups of your bra. His head lowers next to yours, the crooked bridge of his nose bumping against your cheekbone. “Go ahead and tell him how bad you want a real man to touch you.”

“Man, fuck you—”

Cutting in once again, as if wrangling toddlers rather than grown men nearly double your size, “Can’t you both just get along for ten seconds?”

For once, the two don’t argue. Almost synchronized as they chirp, “Yes ma’am.”

Toji’s hands adjust where they’d been holding you first, fisting your shirt and tugging it over your head in a quick swipe, tossing it elsewhere. Sukuna’s hands quickly replace it, tugging down the cups of your bra and holding your breasts himself, kneading them and flicking his thumbs over your nipples. 

Gasping softly, you crane to reconnect the kiss with Toji, hands reaching to fist his shirt and cling to him. He meets you with unerring force, tongue shoved against yours once more, groaning at the second taste of you.

Sukuna’s grip shifts on your breasts as he lowers one to the hip untouched by Toji, dragging you back against him, grinding the length of his erection over your ass in passes. The button of his jeans catches, earning a grunt and shaky breath that fans over the curve of your shoulder.

“Have you done this before?” Toji mumbles into your mouth, easing back just enough to pepper smaller kisses over the corners of your mouth. “Two at once.”

Your lashes flutter. “No, but I want to.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna cuts in. Practically humping himself against your ass this whole time, his breath comes out shakier. “Dirty girl— gonna haft’a prep you first, then.”

You hardly get a word in before the thump behind you signals Sukuna’s dropped to his knees, your head turning to peer over your shoulder to watch as the massive man peels your waistband back and tugs your bottoms down until they pool at your ankles. 

Shifting your posture to let him spread your legs apart and arch forward, Toji lifts your gaze back to his. Keeping your attention on him as Sukuna pulls the cotton of your panties aside, your cheeks flushing hot when the loud shhhhlick! sounds as the fabric sticks to your pussyfolds. 

“Goddamn, she’s soaked,” Sukuna voices behind you, voice thick and warm with arousal. Groaning as his thumbs spread you open from behind, fanning his hot breath over your sensitive folds. Dragging in an audible sniiiiiifff so loud that it sounds almost animalistic. “Fuck, perfect goddamn pussy. Gotta have a taste.”

His mouth descends on you with an absolutely feral growl— the first drag of his wet tongue presses in, wagging side to side to smear between your pussylips and flick at your clit. Pulling back to prod along your entrance and push into your slit just enough to tease.

No wonder this place was popular, if this is the service that was given. Hardly even thinking of themselves when you stood between them, putting you first.

How many men had you been with that did that?

A big fat zero.

“Fuh-fuckk,” you moan into Toji’s mouth, rocking back against Sukuna’s face. Every flick and press catching the beads of arousal that seeped from your spread cunt. “Feels so good.”

Your hands travel over the firm space of Toji’s abdomen, slipping back beneath the edge of his waistband and tugging it down, forehead dropping to his sternum. He helps you pry his boxers down, pausing when you do.

Locking on the sight of his cock as he pulls it from its confines, your jaw drops. Easily seven or eight inches long, if not more, a few freckles scattered over the shaft. Two thin veins crawling up the shaft and disappearing beneath the bulbous head.

“Oh my god,” you blurt. Barely giving Toji a second to question what you meant before you’re reaching forward to take it in both hands and spitting onto it. 

Toji twitches at your sudden touch, one hand threading in your head. “Fuck, woman, slow down.”

Your thumb spreads the pre-cum leaking from the head over the shaft, pumping him with rapt attention, hardly registering his warning. Extending your arms to follow him when Toji takes a slight step back.

“Wanna—” he starts, cut off when you immediately bend further and spit a wad of saliva over the crown of him, hissing at the sudden warmth of your mouth as you take him in your throat. “Shit, doll–”

Toji’s hips snap up in an instinctual thrust, cock head slapping against the back of your throat and triggering your gag reflex, grunting an apology as his hands gather your hair from your face. Sukuna pops from your cunt and groans, not even bothering to wipe your slick from where it coated the expanse of his lower face.

“Tight ass throat,” Toji rumbles, keeping your hair from your face as you bob up and down his cock. Circling his hips to smear himself ‘round and ‘round your throat. “Yeahh, just like that. Tha’ssit.”

Breathing through your nose, you dip forward, nose burying into the coarse hair at his base, the obscene gluck-gluck-gluck of your throat around Toji’s cock filling the room with Sukuna’s slurps. 

If the cafe was heaven, then this breakroom had to be the paradise beyond.

Sukuna’s thumbs ease back from spreading your pussylips to pop into his mouth, sucking your taste off them, then release them again to smear over your slick again and gather more, treating your arousal like creamy dessert.

Slipping the rounded edges of his fingertips between your folds and trailing over your slit, wetting his digits with you. “Gonna haft’a stretch you out a little bit so you can take both of us, okay?”

You hum around Toji’s cock, an answer that Sukuna takes without question. Pushing two thick fingers in and groaning when your pussy squelches at the intrusion before letting his digits in, pulsing as he pumps slowly. 

“Shit, y’hear that, Fushiguro?” Sukuna groans, claret eyes locked on your pussy. Twisting his fingers within you and working your cunt like an extension of himself. Curling his fingertips against your plush walls and pumping you on his hand like a puppet. “Even when her mouth’s full she’s still so damn vocal.”

Your throat squeezes around Toji’s cock, moans muffled as you rock back onto Sukuna’s knuckles.

“Mhmm, I hear her,” Toji mumbles, keeping his eyes on you rather than his colleague. “You must like us a whole lot, huh? Practically dripping just from a couple kisses and some head.”

Sure, you weren’t a virgin by any extent, but none of your exes had ever been so damn good at this. Much less having two guys taking care of you— this shit was practically a fantasy you thought could never happen.

Toji’s palm gently pats against your cheek, drawing your eyes up to him. “What, you can’t focus on both of us at the same time?”

Sukuna answers for you. “N’aw, she’s too busy gushing around my fingers like a little whore. Bet she’s never been fucked right before— haven’t you, brat?”

You can’t help but moan. Shake your head side to side, which pushes Toji’s cock further down your throat before he hisses and eases back, popping free from your lips with a lewd, wet smack.

“Bet not,” Toji replies. Both having a conversation in your stead where your words had obviously failed somewhere between Toji’s cock slapping against your cheek and Sukuna’s fingers twisting in your cunt. “Probably only fucked around with wimps before, poor girl.”

Sukuna’s echo coos behind you. “Poor girl.”

Thick knuckles prod at your folds as a third finger enters, curling and twisting right against your g-spot. Without warning, your body shivers, choking out a gasp at the last second before an orgasm washes over you.

Release splashes out onto Sukuna’s nose as he dives to lap at your cunt while his fingers work you through the waves, rolling his consonants over your clit until the vibrations twinge at your sensitive bud. 

Toji’s hand slips over yours on his cock, pulling you off of him to instead step back towards the edge of the table, barely sitting on the edge, his feet still planted on the floor. Long fingers wrapping around his shaft as he pumps himself, watching you watch him.

“You still want this, right?” he questions, gauging your reaction. The corners of his lips turn up when you nod, suddenly a little shy. Heat crawling up your cheekbones and the tips of your ears. “C’mere.”

Sukuna’s fingers slip free from your cunt, slurping your juices from his skin. “Of course she does,” his hand pats the plush of your ass, prodding you forward. “Go get ‘em, girl. Climb up.”

Urged forward, you halt in front of Toji, accepting the quick peck he gives you before finally climbing into Toji’s lap, your knees settle on either side of his thighs with his help, straddling him as he stands his cock beneath you, sliding it between your pussylips.

Your hands plant on his chest, palms splayed flat. “Hi.”

Toji chuckles. “Hi, pretty girl. Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“Ah-ah,” Sukuna hums behind you, stepping up to press himself to your back again. Unzipping his own pants and pushing them down to use your slick as lube on his own cock. “She’s gotta say it out loud.”

Immediately, you’re following through with his condition. “Mmmhmmm. I’m ready for both.”

“Both?” Toji echoes, scarred lips splitting into a wide grin. The head of his cock just barely pushes at your slit, stretching your lips around him with a gentle burn. “Greedy, huh? Who would’ve thought.”

“I knew it from the beginning,” Sukuna chimes in. “Goody little two-shoes like her comes in here to ‘study,’ only to end up ogling all the muscles,” he tuts. “Dirty, dirty girl.”

Toji feeds the crown of his cock into you finally, bumping his hips up until you take the hint to let your thighs relax and slide yourself down his shaft, inner walls moulding around him. Your lips part, letting out a soft, shaky gasp as the spit and slick from Sukuna’s earlier attention eases the glide to an easy task.

“Fuck,” Toji curses, his hands coming to your thighs to keep you close, letting you rock yourself onto him until the burn softened. Trying to mask his own moan by talking. “I oughta keep you around, huh? Look at you, pretty eyes all glazed over already. You sure you can take both of us?”

Toji cuts you short the moment you open your mouth. Planting his feet into the floor and driving his hips up until you mewled and clenched around him, falling forward onto his chest. 

“O-ohhh fuck..”

Sukuna clicks his tongue. “He’s not that good,” he grumbles. “I could be better, baby. Let you learn what a real virile man feels like, eh?”

Toji snorts, more focused on you than his colleague. Fucking up into you at a proper pace now, rolling your hips into him with every upstroke until you were settling into a comfortable rhythm. 

Scarred lips pulling into a grin as he hums, “He’s just jealous— small dick and all that. Meathead has to use protein shakes, can’t stand that I’m all natural.”

“Tell that to the dick pump you jerk twice a goddamn day,” Sukuna grunts. One massive arm snakes under your thigh and yanks it high, hoisting you half off Toji’s lap in a single impatient motion. Sukuna’s thick cock immediately presses up in the space, sliding along the slick underside where Toji’s already splits you open. 

He nudges the bridge of his nose firmly against the shell of your ear, breath warm against sweat-clammy skin. “Are you sure you want us at the same time? It’ll be a stretch.”

“Mmmhm,” you affirm once more, softer this time. Their constant check-ins, as gruff-voiced as they were, settle something anxious in your chest. “I’m sure.”

“If you say so.”

The blunt crown of him wedges right against your already-strained entrance, pushing where Toji stretches you thin. He rocks forward in short, testing strokes, teeth gritting in focus until the head of him finally pops past the first ring of resistance. Their shafts slide and drag against each other, Toji slowing to a gentle rock just to keep your walls as lax as possible.

“Should’a stretched this little cunt more,” Sukuna mutters against your neck, rolling his hips forward again. The fat head finally pops past your tight ring of resistance, white-hot pain spearing through and immediately melting to pleasure when Toji’s thumb drops to your clit and rubs the nub comfortingly. “Shiiiit… there we go. Atta fuckin’ girl. Taking two cocks like a pro.”

Toji groans low in his throat, head falling back. Rutting himself deeper into you as if trying to compete to see who could reach the deepest. Imprinting himself into your walls and grinding his base against your pussylips. 

Scarred lips parting as Toji grunts, “Hold onto her.”

This time, Sukuna doesn’t argue. He simply slips his other arm beneath your thigh, hooking both elbows at the backs of your knees and lifting you until you’re squeezing around both of them to keep them inside, back pressed to his chest as he carries you.

A standing full nelson. 

The kind of position you could only dream of being in, only ever enjoying through the occasional smut you’d read late at night and fantasize about. Now made reality by not one but two of the finest men you’d ever had the pleasure of being sandwiched between.

Toji tilts his head forward to spit between your bodies, a thick rope of saliva landing hot between your pressed bodies. It drips slowly down the seam where you're stretched around them both, pooling at your entrance before he thumbs your swollen clit and works it in messy circles until your walls flutter and soften just enough that Sukuna can sink another inch deeper.

“Fuckin’ tight,” Sukuna hisses. Your inner muscles ripple involuntarily around the dual intrusion, and Toji’s cock twitches hard against his in response, the friction dragging a shared groan from both men.

Toji’s hand comes up to cradle your jaw, rough thumb brushing your lower lip as he looks at you. The calloused pad catches briefly on soft skin before he leans in, scarred lips dragging against yours as he kisses you. His tongue pushes past your lips, swirling without the intensity from earlier, distracting you while Sukuna’s thrusts grow deeper and deeper, the wet sounds filling the room.

You melt between them instantly, whimpering into Toji’s mouth, a soft ah!-ah!-ah! escaping as Toji rocks in time with Sukuna’s thrusts. Hands flying to hold onto something, landing on Toji’s biceps. Your fingers barely span half the thick circumference of his muscles, nails leaving pale crescents on his skin.

Sukuna’s laugh rumbles against your back. “Whipped already, Ji? Never seen you so soft.”

Toji pulls back with a wet schlick, lips and chin shining with spit. Jade eyes flicking up to meet mauve irises over your shoulder. “Try not to sound so jealous, Kuna. Ain’t a good look on you.”

Sukuna snorts. “Please, I’m the one puttin’ in the work here,” he punctuates it with a shallow thrust, dragging the crown of his cock along Toji’s cock and your walls, grinning when your head falls back against his shoulder. “Greedy fuckin’ girl knows who can stuff her best.”

“Bullshit,” Toji’s hips roll, dragging the fat head of his cock along the front wall of your cunt, right along the spot that makes your toes curl. Your whole body jerks, thighs trembling as a broken moan tears from you. 

“Fuuuck, please—”

“See?” Toji grins, smug. “She doesn’t beg when it’s you fuckin’ her.”

Sukuna grunts. “Cute. Real fuckin’ cute.”

Without warning, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in a brutal stroke that sends your nails skittering over Toji’s chest for support, clawing his pectorals. The sudden force shoves you down onto both of them at the same time. 

“How about we ask her then?” Sukuna’s hips smack against your ass, driving back and forth without pause now. Arms tightening their hold on your thighs until he’s purposefully bouncing you up and down them. “Whaddya say, brat? Go on, tell Jiji here who’s fuckin’ this pussy right. Tell him.”

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone words. Mewling shamelessly, “Kuna, ah-ah-ah!” 

Toji’s eyes narrow. “Wrong.”

He surges up, crashing his mouth against yours again. This kiss isn’t the sweet thing from earlier, but a mess of tongue, his hand prying your jaw open to spit directly into your open maw. 

“Toji, fuck—” you gasp, spittle smearing over your lips. 

Barely able to swallow the wad before Sukuna’s biting at your jaw, getting you to turn your head in surprise and catch your mouth with his. Both fight to kiss you at the same time, Toji on one side and Sukuna on the other. 

Teeth clacking and tongues swirling and circling each other as much as they kiss you. Caught between them, your walls cinch tight, gleefully helpless while they fight each other through you. 

Then it happens.

Toji’s tongue slips past yours at the same time Sukuna’s does, colliding in a hot, aggressive mash of forces. They don’t even blink at the change, fucking into you with reckless abandon while they make out with each other and you all at once.

Their cocks twitch inside you at the same moment, thickening even more as they grind against each other. The wet plap-plap-plap of Sukuna’s hips against yours while Toji’s pelvis grinds into your clit. Cockheads kissing deep enough that you swear you feel them bullying over your cervix walls with each skitter of sparks up your spine.

Your pussy clamps tight around them, breaking from the kiss as your head falls back against Sukuna’s shoulder, the knot in your lower belly drawing tight before snapping apart for your second orgasm of the night. Gushing around them in a slick flood, your release spattering against the two men.

Walls fluttering around them in aftershocks that don’t seem to have an end in sight.

“Fuck, yeah,” Toji groans against Sukuna’s mouth. Feet planting as he starts fucking up into you in earnest, deep strokes that make his heavy balls slap wetly against your soaked folds, drenched in your release.

Sukuna matches him instantly, brutal tempo syncing without a word. He slams in the exact moment Toji withdraws, ensuring there’s never a second where you’re not stuffed with one of them. The alternating rhythm turns savage fast—two cocks seesawing through your overstuffed heat, chasing their own edges.

Your head lolls, lips separated as involuntary moans escape you. Sukuna’s arms flex and shift, prying your trembling thighs even wider apart until the stretch borders on obscene, your pussy on full view for the other man. The new angle gives Toji access to thumb over your clit again, pressing and rolling it, then delivering sharp little slaps to the swollen, oversensitive pearl that make your body arch against Sukuna’s hold. 

“Fuh-fuck!” you gasp. Locking onto the filthy sight as both men crane to meet each other over your shoulder, reconnecting in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, spit stringing thick between their lips when they part again. “Oh my god, that’s so hot.”

You shove Toji’s hand side, replacing it with your own smaller fingers. Swirling slippery circles over your clit at the mere sight of them, wantonly moaning when Sukuna’s teeth bite into your shoulder to muffle his moan. 

Pre-cum swabs your insides as Toji’s hips stutter first, the rhythm stuttering as they near their peaks. One big hand clamps down on your hip, yanking you down onto him harder as he bounces you selfishly along his length, grinding deep. 

Toji’s lips find yours once more as you open your mouth to speak again, letting out the most sinful moan the second you reconnect. Whimpering rawly when his cock thickens and jerks hard, barely managing a single word before he’s pulling out and twisting his fist over the head. 

“Fuck- god, m’gonna cum,” he pants, pumping the shaft just below the crown as the first rope of milky cum erupts, splattering hot across your mound, your lower belly, even catching the underside of your breasts in a messy streak. “Shiiiit, look at you.”

Sukuna’s hips snap forward into you, rutting up with animalistic pacing, chasing the way your walls squeeze around him. “Kuna, please—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he grunts behind you, grip faltering as he adjusts his hold, straining to keep upright as his balls draw up tight and tingle. “Go ahead and let go for us, just one more time. I know you’ve got it in you.”

Your lower lip catches between your teeth as a third orgasm floods your heat, cunt barely dribbling slick around his cock. Barely coming down from the high as Sukuna grunts to maneuver your limp, trembling body to Toji’s waiting lap. 

His cock slips free with a wet pop, leaving you clenching around nothing through the aftershocks. Sukuna catches himself in his fist, stroking through the last erratic jerks as thick, clear ropes spill over his knuckles and drip to the floor in heavy splats against the cold tile.

“Fuuuuuck,” he drags out, groaning. Letting his head fall forward to rest onto your shoulder, the mop of pink-dyed hair sticking to your skin as his chest heaves in time with yours and Toji’s. “Goddamn, girl.”

Breathing heavy, the three of you bask in the humid afterglow, bodies pressed close as the sweat and cum starts to stick. Toji’s hands, much gentler now, slide up your sides, one cupping your chin to guide your face back up to his.

He mumbles something slurred and soft against your lips, half-words lost in the lazy drag of his mouth as he kisses you again. Humming into each other, eyes fluttering shut to just enjoy the contact.

Only to break apart again as the breakroom door rattles and clicks open, the lock from earlier apparently non-functional as the white-haired cashier from earlier steps inside without looking up from his phone. “I’m going on my break, one of you need to actually work and take over the front—”

Satoru’s impossibly blue eyes lift up to take in the sight, immediately widening as both men tighten their arms around you.

Pupils blowing wide and pale lips splitting into a pervish grin. “Well, damn. Got room for one more?”

But blazed or not, Enjin still has a job to do. Umbreaker sweeps him across the trash dunes in a speedy blur, but by the time he arrives he is already too late and the show is over. 

All that’s left is you: a young woman passed out in a pile of demolished trash beast remains and other junk. The giant kaiju-like plushie—now inanimate and no bigger than a hand—lay beside you tethered to your person by a keyring. 

Happening upon another giver in No Man’s Land wasn’t out of the ordinary, sure, but if Enjin thought he was high from seeing your jinki in action he had to be damn near in the clouds once he recognized your clothes.  

Similar to when Enjin discovered Rudo, he could immediately tell by your dress you are a Spherite. But unlike the threadbare attire of the scrappy tribesmen teen, yours practically screams wealth. They are the finest clothes Enjin has ever laid eyes on. Appearing as if they are woven from gold itself, despite the fresh layer of grime that settled on them.

You aren’t just any ol’ Spherite—you’re a Spherite noblewoman.

Keh, interesting. 

With a shake of his head Enjin scoops you up, heading back to HQ. They aren’t gonna believe this…

Enjin digs out a backup mask from his satchel—clearly not made for your face, because it slides right off. With an annoyed sigh, he holds it in place himself. Guess that’s his job now… at least until you wake up.

Although Enjin soon discovers a pattern of how unnecessarily difficult Spherites can be upon arriving to the Abyss—as the first thing you do upon waking in Enjin’s arms is to slap the everloving dogshit out of him. 

Fuck, you have a mean right hand. 

Enjin tongues a tooth to make sure it’s still there. 

“Let me go this instant, you filthy kidnapping degenerate! I demand you to take me home!” You cry out. 

Tears fog up the mask on your face as you clearly mistook Enjin for some kind of criminal with his ‘full face’ on. Enjin sighs, tightening his grip on you and taking the not-so-painless beating you’re dishing out until you reach the nearest city. 

The very second you both are in a habitable area for breathing, Enjin unceremoniously dumps you to the ground. He catches the mask, yet he leaves you to fall straight on your ass. The fall shocks you but Enjin’s sure what’s really got you stunned is the strange bustling city surrounding you.

Removing his fullface, Enjin crouches down to eye-level with you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by the foreign place, your eyes dart around helplessly. You’re frantic, looking everywhere for some sort of bearing of where you are and avoiding the man in front of you.

Yet Enjin just waits, clicking his tongue and rocking back on his heels, for you to quiet your hysterics enough for him to get a word in.

When your eyes, still wide with panic, finally meet, he has the nerve to raise a brow—like you’re the one being dramatic and not the guy who literally kidnapped you.

“So, as you may have noticed by now…this ain’t the Sphere,” Enjin says, balancing a cigarette between his lips. 

You look at him skeptically—he says it like it’s nothing, while your world is actively falling apart. What is he even talking about?!

“I know this ain’t the welcome wagon you posh Spherites are used to but…”

Enjin pauses, exhaling smoke to the sky. Your gaze follows up, widening once you see the oddly shaped dome covering the city, a strange yellow fog in the atmosphere.

“....welcome to the Abyss, Girlie. Name’s Enjin.” 

Blankly staring at Enjin, you say nothing. The both of you in a mini stare down. Although you’re the first to give by suddenly bursting into sobs.

Rolling his eyes, a thought briefly flashes in Enjin's head that he should have just left you for the raiders. Hell, he could still leave you now—you’re calling way too much attention to yourself.

However, Enjin also figures that with you all but swimming in luxury on the Sphere, you probably thought of the Pit—your so-called Hell, or its inhabitants as mere fairytale.

Enjin’s inkling is confirmed when you calm down enough to piece together that your now ex-husband had hired a bunch of shady tribesmen to kidnap and dispose of you—all to collect your inheritance. 

Yeah, not your fault.  Enjin thinks and cuts you a break. 

For your own sake, Enjin somehow convinces you to come back to Cleaner HQ with him. He can’t return you to the Sphere himself—but he knows another Spherite who’s trying to make their way back. That small glimmer of hope is enough to lift your spirits, just barely. This time, you follow him willingly—though you still cry the entire way to HQ.

Shame how prone to hysterics you are, otherwise Enjin actually thinks you’re pretty hot. Noting how the expensive silk of your dress clings so damn well to your every curve. He’d sell your clothes while you were near the shopping district—but unlike Rudo, he doubts he could talk you out of them. 

At least—not yet.

But that thought is drastically short lived as Enjin spends more time in your presence. Sure, you could have gotten along. You could’ve even been Enjin’s type. Yet there’s one glaring problem: 

You’re an annoying, needy-ass brat.  

Besides looks, you tick off nearly every one of his dealbreakers. You’re ditzy, dependent and whiny. Basically Enjin’s nightmare.

Plus your snobby little ass never once thanked nor apologized to him over the following weeks.

Not after he saved you.

Not after he brought you back to HQ where you were welcomed with skeptical, yet open arms—as a new, very reluctant (you had no other options really) recruit in-training.

And you certainly never thanked Enjin, even after all his shit luck, when he was assigned to be your teacher and look after your haughty ass. You have the most indignant pout on your face when Corvus announces that since Enjin found you, you're Enjin’s problem.

“You have to be kidding me? I’m stuck with Trashy Poppins here!?”

“Yo, Trashy—what!?” The reference doesn’t land with Enjin but he knows it isn’t good.

Semiu nods curtly in agreement of the pairing, amused that Enjin finally has someone to keep him on his toes as she ushers you off to get settled in.

The fuck?! 

Lamenting being stuck is supposed to be Enjin’s line. Enjin had figured the logical move was to pair you with Zanka—the closest thing to nobility among the Cleaners—and let you bond with Rudo, a fellow Spherite, even if he was a tribesman.

But it doesn’t take long to realize neither boy can handle a grown ass woman like you. One flutter of your lashes and they’re useless saps—like the big sister he never had, you could soothe Rudo’s worst moods with a mere head pat. 

While Zanka, older and appreciating your more ‘robust’ qualities, trips over his own tongue trying to talk to you.

Both ready to do anything just to earn a few sweet coos—unless someone steps in.

It had to be Enjin. He was the only one who could ‘resist’ your charms.

Still, Enjin’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to you—especially training you for combat and figuring out how the hell you’re supposed to use that so-ugly-it’s-almost-cute vital instrument.

He tries not to judge. Really, he does. Jinki are personal—he knows that better than anyone. But still…the fact that you even have one? That’s wild.

A Spherite? A noble Spherite, no less—the same pompous assholes who treat the Abyss like a dumping ground—actually caring enough about something to pump it full of anima?

Yeah, that’s impressive, he’ll give you that. What wasn’t though was the name you gave the lil thing: Bubu.

Tsk. Wack as hell. Vital instruments deserve names with some bite. Something like—Umbreaker.

Still, credit where it’s due—you’re picking things up faster than expected. 

However, that doesn’t spare him from your nonstop bitching, though. The complaints come daily: the strange smells your hair absorbs, the absence of your sacred skincare routines, not being able to take a 30 minute shower, and how everything down here always tastes just a little off.

But the most absurd? The cherry blossoms.

You complain the most about not being able to frolic in your lush, petal-covered garden full of rows of cherry blossoms. Enjin’s never even seen a damn tree like that, let alone the acres of grass and flowers you describe like some bedtime fairytale. You haughtily anoint yourself as a floral herbalist, an expert when it comes to your pretty little flowers.

It’s shit like that on top of everything else that irks Enjin when it comes to you.

And yet?

Enjin thinks the most irritating thing about you is the fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

Sure, you’re annoying as fuck—but in spite of his own objections, Enjin keeps finding ways to keep your time occupied. He makes up excuses to train you longer and drags you along on missions that are solely meant for him. 

Moreover, since you can never keep that pretty little mouth shut, anyone you meet clocks you as a Spherite within seconds—which means you need Enjin’s constant protection, whether you like it or not.

Enjin ends up spending less time drinking or chasing women, finding a far more amusing pastime instead—the way your face twists in indignation every time the Ground doesn’t live up to your so-called “noble standards.” 

He gets a kick out of it, really. Agitating you on purpose, just to watch you squirm.

“Goddamnit, Enjin! Watch it!” 

You’d shriek every time your short skirt went flying from a sudden gust of wind he’d whip up with Umbreaker. Enjin saves that lil trick for No Man’s Land when the others’ backs are turned.

“That’s Enjin-sensei to you, Princess.” 

“Choke—slowly, Trashy Poppins.”

You’d lunge for his mask like you actually meant to rip it off, but at 6 '3, Enjin’s tall enough that you never have a chance at reaching it. It’s all worth it too—Enjin’s already got every pastel scrap of lace you own burned into memory, each one tucked away like a reward for getting under your skin.

It’s a little sadistic, sure—the way he taunts you nonstop, delighting in soiling that polished image of yours to grind you into the dirt of the ground right along with him. 

There’s a fire in your eyes every time Enjin dubs you as “Your Royal Trash Princess”—or just “TP” if he’s feeling lazy. You never fail to rise to his bait, eager to prove yourself—and prove him wrong.

Enjin feels he’s owed a bit of amusement for all his troubles.

Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet the more Enjin pushes, the harder it is to ignore that your bratty spark isn’t just an attitude problem. It’s energy. Real, raw passion. The kind that could actually cultivate anima. He sees it best when you’re snapping at him, flushed and defiant, too stubborn to back down.

It’s trouble to be sure, but fuck if Enjin doesn’t love coaxing it out of you.

All it took this time to get you going was him doubting your so-called knowledge of plants and remedies— “what kinda ‘floral herbalist’ hasn’t toked one?”  

So now here you are, in the HQ lounge, about to smoke your first joint as a ‘pre-game’ to the happy hour Corvus organized for all the Cleaners.

You and Enjin sit shoulder to shoulder on a worn, black quilted-leather sofa that’s seen better days. The cushions creak as you nervously smooth your skirt and settle in, unhooking your jinki—Bubu—from your belt to set her gently on the table.

Enjin rolls a few joints with unhurried precision—like he’s got all the time in the world, and watching you squirm is part of the ritual.

“Bet ya didn’t have anything like this in your lil’ garden, eh TP?” Enjin quips, breaking the silence.

Nose already upturned, your face scrunches as Enjin tosses an extra bud from his stash into your open palms. You hated the nickname ‘TP’ most of all, too easily mistaken for ‘toilet paper’ and Enjin knows that.

You shoot Enjin a dirty look before letting your focus drift back to the brittle sprig in your hands—the first real plant you’ve touched since becoming a Ground-dweller.

You think you actually recognize it. 

Back on the Sphere, your family was among the wealthiest, and your garden was massive. You took pride in your green thumb—like Delmon, whose garden you’ve been meaning to ask about. You want to help, if only to see what kind of plants can survive in conditions this toxic. But Enjin never gives you the space—always hovering, always cutting in before you can finish a full conversation.

You brush off those thoughts but your frown stays as your fingers trace the bud’s dry veins. Even for a dehydrated sample, it feels wrong—brittle in a way that hints of sickness. 

“Hmm. We had something like this—I think. But it’s just another weed.” You say shrugging.

“Heh,” Enjin smirks at your cluelessness, “Would you believe me if I told you ‘weed’ is exactly what we call it, Princess?”

You roll your eyes at the inordinately simple name. It probably has a proper scientific designation—but expecting Enjin to know it? Please.

“We always uprooted them—weeds are unsightly in gardens, you know. A weed, let alone one sick as this, would definitely be pruned right away so as to not syphon nutrients from the other plant life.”

“HAH?!”  

Mid-seal on his joint, Enjin stops cold, staring at you like you just dared to commit some sort of sacrilege before exhaling a theatrical sigh, shaking his head in pure betrayal.

He can’t believe Spherities are probably pissing away the dankest shit ever cultivated. The thought was maddening.

When Enjin’s eyes do meet yours again, there's no amusement as he takes a rather chastising tone with you.

“Princess, for your own good, never repeat that in front of anyone down here…I mean it.”

You huff, but Enjin doesn’t blink—just starts sealing the joint again, eyes never leaving you as his tongue drags slowly across the edge of the paper.

You squirm, and that’s all the reward he needs. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Enjin drawls, holding the finished joint out toward you like it’s a gift—and not a trap with your name written all over it.

Turning on teacher mode, Enjin decides to school you.

“I know we mostly have ‘reggie’ down here, but still, it’s worth its weight in gold for its purposes. Not just for fun ya know—chronic pain, nausea, anxiety—gives a bit of relief from the ailments of Abyss-living you Spherites have so graciously bestowed on us.”

From his pocket, Enjin produces a lighter, shoulders curling as he bows into the flame to set it alight.

Your eyes flick over the sinewy stretch of Enjin arms, the way his jacket strains across his shoulders—reminding you just how solid Enjin really is beneath all that shapeless fabric. Built like a weapon, hiding in plain sight.

You watch as his ringed fingers lift the joint to his lips. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Enjin sinks back into the sofa like gravity’s got a tighter hold on him than usual. Smoke pools in his chest before slipping out in a long, deliberate exhale.

His gaze follows it, distant—like he’s chewing on thoughts far heavier than anything you said… but somehow still set off by it.

“That’s the problem with you Spherites….you don’t see things the way they are—you see things the way you are.” 

Enjin chuffs at his own words, closing his eyes to let his high settle. Not even completely stoned yet and he’s already spouting off pseudo philosophical one-liners.

“Everything else is collateral, amirite?”

Ouch.

Toeing at the floor, you sulk in silence. Wounded from the verbal licks Enjin just dealt you. Mulling over his words in silence though, you know it isn’t that simple. Horticulture can be complicated even in the most ideal conditions. Just because a plant is viable doesn’t mean it belongs in every garden—some plants are just incompatible.

However…

You sit silently, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you study the brittle bud in your palm.

…that doesn’t make it worthless.

Instead of exploring any potential use, you tossed the so-called "weed" out—just like everything else the Sphere deemed useless. Not even considering how valuable it could be. You can see why Enjin wouldn't want you repeating that mistake. Enough people already looked at you with disdain as it is. 

Sure there’s a lot of things you miss about it, mostly superficial things that had to do with vanity, but overall life up there was super sterile and dull. You’d never say it out loud but you are glad you fell, it was hard on the ground but it was liberating.

Sighing, you quietly concede. You hate anytime Enjin actually has a point though. It’s the worst thing imaginable—for your pride and for his already unbearable ego.

Cracking an eye open, Enjin curses under his breath. Switching tactics, he decides to replace the long look on his Trash Princess’s face. Annoyance would do just fine. Besides, there was no need for you to pout over it, you actually had a shot at redemption here… heh, the kind that might just work out in his favor, too.

“Y’knowwwww, we’re always learnin’ better ways to grow things down here, faster too...”

Enjin moves so quietly, you don’t realize how close he is until you turn—and he’s right in your face, barely a breath away. Swiping his ringed thumb across your cheek, Enjin’s touch is surprisingly tender. However his expression is entirely obnoxious, full of amusement from how fast your pouty little face flusters.

“...could be a nice little hobby that would do alotta good…and if anyone could figure out how to grow this shit properly down here—”

Enjin plucks at the heat of your warm cheeks, pinching just enough to tease and drag the moment into something more lighthearted.

“—I do believe it could be you—Trash Princess.”

Your eyes catch something deeper than just teasing in his golden gaze—but before you can dwell on it, instinct kicks in. You jerk back, swatting his hand away, shoving whatever that was out of your mind.

Enjin just laughs, unbothered, as you glare at him.

“And why can’t you get Delmon to do it?” you counter, arms folding across your chest. By now, you’ve learned Enjin usually has an angle for everything.

Right on the mark, for a beat, Enjin actually pauses. He hadn’t expected you to bring up the obvious—Delmon, the gentle giant practically martyred to the idea of saving what’s left of the Abyss. But Enjin’s roguish grin slips back into place, spreading wider as he leans in, unapologetically invading your space.

“Why? Well...’cause I asked you, Princess. The ol’lug has enough on his plate as it is. You can handle it alone, can’t ya?”

Truthfully, even knowing your interest in Delmon never strays beyond roots and soil, it still irks every time Enjin catches sight of you with him. You look every bit the noble—graceful, composed, eyes soft and curious as you gaze up at Delmon, eager to learn. It grates on Enjin more than he’d admit, knowing he’s never once gotten that look, despite monopolizing most of your time.

“Ya know—unless, your skillset just ain’t up t’par?” Enjin finishes with a shrug.

Wholly unconvinced, you see this for the bait it is from a mile away. Nevertheless, you can’t deny that you are eager to get even the tiniest bit of normalcy back in your life from your old hobbies. Planting something, anything, would be nice—even if it ends up being contraband for Enjin. Although you still aren’t quite sure why you can’t consult Delmon. 

“Ugh! Fine!”

You fall back onto the sofa and Enjin follows, his arm settling behind you, practically draped around your shoulders. You don’t even flinch. He takes another slow hit, smoke curling toward the ceiling, but this time there’s a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you. Deciding he’s babysat the joint long enough, he leans in with a lazy smirk and holds it out to you.

“Enjin—your eyes!” You blurt out, disregarding his invitation. “Is that just from smoking!? I can’t go to happy hour looking like some kinda zombie!”

Enjin sputters mid-laugh, coughing as wisps of smoke leak from the corners of his smart ass grin.

“Eh, well duh. Why else would they get so red when I smoke?”

Enjin coughs out a few more chuckles. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Trashy Poppins…I didn't make the connection since the air quality down here is 80% pollution! You could have anything.”

While Enjin is amused by your sass, the joint continues to burn down. Each second unsmoked is wasting precious bud. Leaning in, his voice drops to a low purr—the kind that makes your stomach flip.

Heh, time to pull out the big guns.

“Aht-aht-aht, c’mon now, Princess, you know the golden rule…”

You sigh, thinking you need that happy hour drink more than ever right now.

“You’re not serious.”

But you know he is, and of course you remember the silly motto Enjin makes an unspoken rule for his team. Although he mostly just uses it to get you to do something you’ll usually regret later.  You sigh, knowing you’ll never make it to happy hour until you appease the big man-child in front of you.

Enjin’s golden eyes shine with even more mischief than before and together like some damn mantra, you both repeat:

“...it’s not peer pressure—it’s just your turn.”

Resigned, you click your tongue, swiping at the joint in his hands. But Enjin is much faster as he pulls back with infuriating speed. You glower at him, snark locked and loaded.

“Nah, actually I’ll help you out since it’s your first time, Princess.”

Innuendo coils around his words, heat radiating off him as you tense under his gaze. You don’t want to argue with him though, the sooner you smoked, the sooner you both could be at happy hour.

“Open.” 

Enjin’s fingers graze the corner of your mouth as he holds the joint to your peach-glossed lips, eyes darkening when you part them obediently for him.

“Now breathe it in, nice and slow…deeper. Yeah, that’s it—hold it. Don’t let go until I say—good girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but you can’t—not with tears stinging your eyes and smoke burning its way down your lungs. By the time Enjin gives you the nod to exhale, you’re already choking, coughing it all back up in ragged plumes.

Yeah, this was nowhere in hell as easy as Enjin made it look.

The buzz rises in your head almost instantly, an airy haze creeping into your consciousness.

“See? Not a terrible cherry pop, eh?”

The glare you throw at Enjin is more of a squint. Still recovering from the fire tearing down your throat, your coughs earn you a few heavy-handed smacks on the back from Enjin. If it’s out of comfort or mockery, you can't tell. 

Everything in the room is spinning and becoming more distant, like a daydream.

“Easy there, breathe—it’ll hit easier when ya figure out how to grow it right, Princess. The dank shit won’t burn this hard.”

You want to bite back that even if you do figure out how to grow the damn ‘weed’ plant, you’d never touch it again. But the sudden heaviness seeping into your limbs drags you down, tilting your head on the axis of equilibrium.

“I think, no—I know, I need to lay down.”

Not waiting for permission, you flop down onto the worn cushions beneath you, curling up awkwardly with your head leaning against the armrest and your legs dangling off the seat at an angle. 

Enjin doesn’t miss a beat though—he scoops your legs into his lap, tugging off your boots so you can be comfortable.

Leaning back, perfectly at ease, Enjin holds the joint in one hand while the other rests on your stocking-covered shin, giving it a casual, reassuring pat. The way your arm drapes over your face tells him everything—yeah, you’ve got the spins.

“Keh, you’ll make it, Princess. Just let it all ride out.”

You’d make it alright, but not to happy hour anytime soon. Enjin supposes he might’ve let you take a bigger hit than you were ready for. 

Whoops.

Silence stretches in the aftermath but it’s not uncomfortable. Enjin takes a few more lazy tokes, one golden eye cracked open just enough to watch you, taking stock of your state. 

It’s in moments like this—rare ones, when you’re quiet—that he remembers just how fucking smoking hot you are.

Especially in that Cleaner uniform. Man, God bless August.

The eccentric tailor took special care in designing it thanks to a sudden burst of inspiration—August even convinced Enjin to allow him to keep some of the trim from your Spherite clothes that he repurposes. The outcome of your uniform is shinier, more fitted and much sluttier than standard issue. 

You took to it immediately, without much fuss and actually complimenting August. That was August’s gift though—whipping up pieces to suit even the finickiest of tastes—and Enjin had to admit, the man did his big one. 

But the real surprise wasn’t the craftsmanship. It was you—his oh-so-prim little Trash Princess—strutting around in something so damn naughty. Dressed up like a treat that Enjin can’t help but eat up with his eyes.

And whaddya know? Enjin has the munchies bad right now.

Left to his own devices, Enjin takes his time devouring the sight in front of him. His gaze lingers down the length of your legs sprawled across his lap, to the soft, exposed flesh of your thighs—spilling over the edge of your stockings just enough to make his jaw clench.

Fuck, they look so soft. He can't help but wonder how they'd feel locked around his head as his eyes climb to the next indulgence—your crop top. Rucked up to your ribs, the thin white cotton hugs just beneath your tits. Shit, the way your cute little nips poke through the fabric makes his mouth twitch with the urge to say ‘hi’ right back—with his tongue.

Is it hotter in here, or—?

Leering at you for too long is a surefire way for Enjin to pop a boner. Enjin knows he’s not alone in that either. That uniform of yours turns heads in every city you pass through. Consequently, Enjin has split more skulls because of idiots trying to hit on you or cop a feel than he ever has for anyone trying to snatch a Spherite.

Not that he’s jealous or nothing.

Nah. Just doing his job. Watching out for you. Plenty of unscrupulous assholes out there willing to pounce on a clueless little thing like you.

However, right now, Enjin’s just as unscrupulous—‘watching out’ only for a flash of your panties as each restless wiggle sinks you deeper into the lumpy cushions, bunching your skirt higher and teasing him with a glimpse of skimpy lace.

Man, just a little more and he’d know exactly which pair you picked today.

Sobering up a bit more, you sigh at your inability to get comfortable when you could feel the very springs in the sofa. Stretching, you straighten your leg suddenly and—

“Yo! Watch the feets, girl!”  

Though there’s amusement in his voice as he jolts upright, tatted hands grabbing your ankle before you’re able to land another blow.

“Ah, sorry—” You mutter sheepishly, reeling back your foot. “I didn’t mean to kick Umbreaker.”

For what it’s worth, the apology comes quickly—you’ve learned better than to mess with a man’s jinki, especially Enjin’s. You've nearly tripped more times than you can count over that bulky extension of himself that he always keeps within reach.

You know it’s serious too when he doesn’t even bother with the stupid nicknames he usually calls you. Nevertheless, you’re left puzzled when Enjin’s laughter comes out loud and sharp. 

“...that wasn’t Umbreaker, Princess.”

Huh? What does he mean that isn’t— 

You freeze. 

Carefully peeking out from under your arm, your reddened eyes squint down the length of your body and onto his. When the realization does set in of what exactly you kicked, it smacks you harder than any hit of ganja ever could.

“O…oh…—OH MY GAWD!”

Immediately springing upright, your vertigo swirls with how fast you’re scrambling to your knees as you gawk.

Time passes for what seems like a solid minute or two and neither of you speak. 

You’re staring at the crotch of Enjin’s baggy pants and Enjin is staring at you.

“Heh.”

The devious look on Enjin’s face right now could shame the devil himself. Yet you’re still in utter disbelief.

There’s no way that’s his dick!

Still, your brain won’t stop running the numbers—high girl math with clumsy calculations drawn from the fleeting brush of your toes against the long, thick mass hidden beneath the fabric of his baggy pants. Enjin’s words ring in your mind like a gong—‘that wasn’t Umbreaker…’

“You’re burnin’ a hole through my dick, Princess—”

Enjin’s voice unfurls seductively, like the smoke curling from his lips.

“—keep starin’ like that and I’m gonna think you wanna see it.”

Your eyes meet his dead-on. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure yo—wait, come again?!”

Enjin’s grip goes slack, the joint slipping from his fingers. He was halfway to some sassy quip, ready to taunt your denial—but your delivery is so honest, with no teasing or angle to play off, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

The embers hiss against his thigh before he even registers he dropped it.

“Tch.” Cursing under his breath, he flicks it aside—it’s all roach anyway—and tries to pull himself back together.

You’re fucking with him. Yeah. That’s it. 

Smug again, Enjin leans into the bit you started.

“Ha ha…right. I know my stuck up lil’ Trash Princess isn’t asking to give me a dick inspection…”

Enjin adjusts his pants in a casual sweep that doesn’t fool either of you. He’s not brushing off the remaining flakes of ash—he’s palming his restless cock that jumped at the idea of you actually wanting to see it.

But both you and Enjin would quickly discover, despite your snobby Spherite upbringing, you lose any type of filter and sense of couth while high—blurting out your thoughts unabashedly. 

“I said I wanted to see it, Trashy Poppins. Or m’not gonna believe you’re actually that big.”

You fold your arms, huffing stubbornly.

There was no way an unbearably annoying man like Enjin was slanging actual horse cock! 

He had to be the one fucking with you here.

Well, wait, no—a cocky, stupidly sexy man having a big dick actually tracks, now that you think about it.

But still—you need to verify. For science, if nothing else. 

Yeah. Science.

Enjin blinks, taking stock of you—kneeling close, your tits straining like they’re about to burst free, and your skirt rides so high on your thighs this time, he swears one more millimeter and he’d see your panties for real. 

“C’mon now…”

Your sickly sweet coos needle at Enjin’s spine.

“...as if you aren’t always upskirting me just to see my panties.”

Shit. You knew it was intentional?

“At least you can show me your undies for a change. If you’re really that big, then I’ll be able to tell.”

The spark alight in your eyes is a challenge to Enjin, who loves pushing your limits. Now he needs to know how far you’ll go. Even if he’s completely unprepared for this turn of events, he’s sure as fuck not gonna be the one backing down first.

“S’that right, Princess? Well, I haven’t even seen yours today so—”

Enjin doesn’t even get the chance to finish before you’re lifting your skirt and spreading your knees wider. You stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn squares suddenly appearing super interesting to you. Enjin’s eyes however immediately zero-in on the pink lace stretched tight across your pussy.

Christ.

With a much closer view, Enjin picks up all the little details he usually misses—like how the hem digs into your soft curves or how the material is thin enough to see the split of your chubby lil pussy lips pressed underneath. 

Goddamn, are you intentionally buying them a size too small? 

Or is your pussy print just that fat?

Enjin gulps, mouth dry. 

His attention caught like a hook to your cunt, everything else is unimportant—including the irony of how he was just teasing you for the very same thing—it’s all utterly lost on him. His priorities shifting rapidly the longer he ogles you.

After a minute, giving him quite frankly more of his fill than he deserves, you let your skirt drop back into place. The alluring spell of your fatma breaks when your  knees snap shut and Enjin is yanked back to a world that doesn’t exist between the apex of your doughy thighs. 

All of his lecherous starring is worth it though—if only to be able to throw his own saying back at him for once.

“Now, how’s it go again? It’s not peer pressu—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I got it, Princess—My turn.” 

Enjin relents, cutting you off with a twisted grin as he shakes his head.

“Ya don’t gotta break my arm to see my dick, babe. Just makin’ sure you’re sure. Don’t need you runnin’ off telling Semiu I flashed ya.”

Semiu is already on Enjin’s ass for teasing you as much as he does. Something about him being ‘too grown’ not to ‘nut up’ and ‘come to terms with his reality’, but Enjin was never listening for long, zoning out as soon as a new lecture was underway. 

However, if your prissy ass really wants to see his dick that bad, of course he’d oblige. Hell, Enjin would get another kick outta watching your horror when you realize for real just how much he’s packing. It had been a minute since he'd seen that look on a woman.

For being as hot and charming as he is, Enjin didn’t get nearly as much play as he should’ve. He isn’t a virgin by any means, but too many women take one glance at his size and back off expeditiously.  

Life on the ground meant hustling to survive for most. Nobody could afford to be laid up for days just because Enjin’s wrecking ball of a cock tore through their walls, rendering them unable to walk—let alone go to work.

Yet with a clink, that all changes as the leather strap of his belt and gear slides free. Enjin lifts his hips enough to shove his pants down past his thighs and there it is—short red boxer briefs with a black waistband, the fabric stretched thin over the obscenely long, thick outline of his dick resting along his thigh.

Simply put, your jaw drops. There’s a static-like silence buzzing in your mind as you process the monstrous mass of phallic muscle before you.

You’ve never seen a dick that huge in your entire life. 

Clocking your shock, Enjin’s chest puffs like he’s just been crowned a king in the room.

“Relax, Princess…” he drawls, smugness saturating every word.

“I ain’t even all the way hard yet.”

Bullshit! 

Your eyes pingpong between his face and his cock before landing on the obvious conclusion—no overthinking this time.

“What are you waiting for then? Get hard.”

Enjin actually chokes for real this time, still not used to how blunt his demure lil’ Trash Princess gets when she’s high. He manages to laugh regardless once he finds his breath as he sure as hell doesn’t hate this new side of you.

“Hah?! It doesn’t work like that ya know…”

Enjin lies right through his fucking teeth. 

Just hearing that vulgar command from your prissy lil’ lips has his blood surging south, his cock swelling at rapid speed. Already on go, his dickprint thickens, straining against the fabric until threads stretch thin to form almost obscenely over him like second skin.

Yet unlike his past hookups you don’t flinch at the sight of him getting even bigger. 

There’s more than enough incredulousness on your face for sure, but Enjin half expected you to backpedal for the sake of your pussy’s self-preservation and book it out the door. Instead, the look you’re giving his dick is more akin to awe than fear.

Truly, though—you are in awe.

Men weren’t like this on the Sphere. Well, your husband certainly wasn’t.

Older than you by over a decade, your husband’s stamina was so poor he never lasted long. His size, his endurance, and his dismissive comments about your sexual appetite being perversely unbecoming for a lady of your station had you wondering if something was wrong with you this entire time—if you expected too much from sex.

But when your eyes drift back to Enjin—catching the thick vein running along his length, visible even through the fabric—you know better now. 

It was never you.

The realization brings a surge of boldness. Your gaze trails the pulse of his cock down to the wet patch blooming at the tip—so much pre spilling it seeps through the fabric. 

Enjin inhales sharply through his nose. He knows he’s proven his size, but your silence and the way you’re eyeing his cock like some kind of museum exhibit is starting to get to him. 

Enjin doesn’t want to back down as he impatiently waits for your final verdict of approval. But if you keep staring at him like that, with those big pretty eyes of yours, he’s going to come in his pants, untouched, like some fucking cuck.

“Well, Princess? Big enough for ya?”

You don’t even hear Enjin, too lost in your own thoughts. Your body, buzzed and reckless, has a mind of its own though. Reaching out, your hand leaves your lap to trace the thick ridges of his cock, mapping its shape through his briefs. 

“Oh, shiiii—” Enjin hisses. 

His lip catches between his teeth as all thoughts vanish the moment your delicate little fingers start stroking him.

“Argh—fuck. Can’t jus’ go grabbing a man’s dick like that ya know.”

Yet Enjin does nothing to stop you as your touch grows bolder. Your palm flattens around his girth—too thick for even your whole hand to wrap around, even through his boxers.

How would someone even get something that monstrous inside them!?

Encircling his leaky cockhead, you giggle as your index finger slowly tap-tap-taps the mess he’s made there, amused at how many of the small, sticky suds you can gather on your finger through the material.

Enjin’s own laugh is strangled. This can’t be real.

“Heh… fuck… you really tryna kill me, huh, Princess? Fuckin’ tease…”

You’re unfazed by Enjin’s provocations – too mesmerized by the obscenely large cock in front of you that has you squirming uncomfortably as your own panties turn swampy with heat. 

“May I?”

Meeting Enjin’s gaze, your polite innocence is accented by a wide-eyed pout that’s far too sweet for the filthy implications of your request. Like you’re nicely asking permission to play with your favorite toy—except you don’t even wait for him to give it,fingers impatiently snapping the edges of his waistband like some cockhungry slut. 

“Uh…” Enjin blanks while his dick is practically screaming at him to respond—even a damned head nod would suffice. Yet his brain blue-screens as it registers that look—the normally innocent, curiosity filled look that he's been craving since he found you in No Man's Land—now twisted into something debased and filthy.  And best of all?

Meant just for him.

Enjin’s so fucking hard right now it’s painful—and hell, if you’re planning to do something about that, he’s not about to stop you.

“Keh. Do you, boo.”

Enjin manspreads, giving you full access. You eagerly pull down his shorts just enough to release his cock, and it springs free, thick and heavy. 

Good God, he’s a big boy! 

Although you knew that, seeing the monster in all of its unleashed glory was an entirely different experience. Enjin’s dick bobs back to curve towards his abs, a shiny pubic piercing shining at his base under its shadow.

Panting, your previously dormant inner size queen activates. You have to swallow down the bucket of saliva collecting on your tongue before you choke—you can’t help but salivate at the thought of what a huge cock like this tastes like… what it feels like. 

You’re pretty sure it could break you in two, and surprisingly, the thought excites you.

Lowering yourself on all fours, the first tentative lick you give Enjin’s length has his toes curling as he grips the sofa, ripping a chunk clean off the decaying material. 

You moan out a depraved 'ahhh' once you reach the top, a little smile playing on your lips as you tongue down the hole at his tip.  Greedily, you lap up all the little dribbles of pre beading at the tip and flowing out.

“W-Woaaah—ugh. FUCK!”

Enjin’s hand flies into your hair as he clears his throat. Sure, your mouthwatering stares made a blowie likely, but diving in this shamelessly? It’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his damn mind.

You grip his base—an insurance policy to keep him from cumming—while your other hand cups his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thigh jolts beneath you and you simper at how sensitive he is despite his massive size.

“T-There’s no way in hell they taught your prissy ass how to be this much of a slut up there.”

Pouting, you release his balls to cradle his cockhead against your puffed up cheek, uncaring of the amount of pre seeping across your jaw. 

“D-Do…do you hate it? My hus—um, ex said it was a turn off. H-he'd say I have 'the depravity of a slums streetwalker.”

Staring up at Enjin, your eyes are clouded with lust, yet edged with worry—like he’d threatened to rip something precious away.  But it’s only his cock you’re coddling tighter against your cheek, your lips parting just enough to chase the beads of pre that drip close to your mouth.

If you weren’t gripping Enjin’s base so hard he definitely would have blown a load all over your face. Fuck, if the thought isn’t tempting to him though – he doesn’t think you’d even mind in this state.  

Goddamn, you’re so much sluttier than Enjin could have ever imagined. 

And he’d imagined it plenty. 

Especially on nights Enjin stumbled back to HQ drunk and alone, having closed down the bar with Corvus and Gris. Left to sate his own booze-fueled boner, he’d shamelessly rut into his pillow. Yet, no matter where his perversions strayed, every faceless fantasy in the dark insisted on transmuting into you. 

You seriously think he couldn’t match your freak? 

Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.

“Hate it?” 

Enjin holds back the growl building at the back of his throat. There’s a torrent of thoughts swirling with his high all at once—all coming to settle right back into his dick. 

“Never. Show me who you really are, Princess—n’ I’ll give it right back to ya tenfold—that’s a promise.”

If you weren’t already trembling with arousal—finally free to let your freak flag fly—you might’ve shied away. Enjin’s easy acceptance of you stirs something deeper, something messy that you usually ignore before it can settle. Now, with his scent thick on your face and tongue, you’re not thinking at all—aching with the urge to all but inhale his cock.

You merely nod, flashing Enjin a coy smile before stretching your plush lips to wrap around him. Slowly, you swallow down his girth, mouth hot with suction so deliciously moist Enjin’s hips jerk up. You gag, but his firm grip on your roots keeps your head in place, forcing his length to breach your throat.

“That’s it, baby…open up f-f’er me—g-good fucking girl, Princess…”

Tears prick at your eyes as his cock pounds back of your throat. The stretch is brutal—but some desperate part of you craves more of his filthy praise. What you can’t take with your mouth, your hands make up for—stroking every thick inch your lips can’t swallow.

“Shiiiit, girl! You’re a pro at this.”

If you ask Enjin later, he’d probably call you a throat goat, however most of your “experience” came from the smutty paperbacks high-society wives hid in corsets and swapped under tea tables—not actual practice. You don’t really know what you are doing. You’re just following the book's explicit instructions. 

Still, Enjin doesn’t seem to mind being your test dummy. 

On the contrary, Enjin is more than happy to let you do your thing and he does just that. Although, the longer your head bobs along his cock, the more your skirt rides up—until it finally flips over your hips, giving him a perfect view of the cheeky lace framing your ass.

Enjin groans, gripping your ass with bruising force before sliding his fingers down to palm your pussy over your panties—fuck, you’re already dripping for him.

“Hah—uppity cunt gets this sloppy just from a lil’ dick sucking, eh?”

Enjin laughs, yet the gravel rattling in his voice betrays him. No one has ever fearlessly tried to deepthroat him and actually fucking enjoyed it. 

Unable to respond with your mouth, too busy still trying to do the impossible and fit more inside your throat, your hips respond instead—wiggling desperately against his fingers, begging for more of his touch. 

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. Slipping a tatted finger into your panties, he drags it through your folds, marveling at how wet and scorching you are. Pushing into your core, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his digit.

Oh fuck, even his fingers are big! 

A second ringed finger follows – the rough, callous fingers of a man who's seen too many fights scrape so good against all your gooey spots. Lewd squelches echo from your pussy as your throat tightens around him in tandem. The sounds, the squeeze, the heat—all of it is driving him crazy.

Shit he’s gonna cum for real this time. 

To his credit, Enjin tries to warn you—tries to pull you off before it’s too late. 

He doesn’t wanna risk pissing you off and having you refuse to ever do this again. Enjin still wants to fool around more;, he wants to fuck you. It’s that thought—your pretty pussy lips splitting open to swallow him instead—that has him busting his hot seed down your throat in thick, hot pulses.

“HAHH—FUHH!”

Releasing your hair, Enjin half expects you to pull away, furious he hadn’t warned you.  Instead, your nails dig into his thigh, steadying yourself. You moan around him, the vibrations rippling through his sensitive cock while you work him for every last drop, his hips jerking beneath you.

Only when you’re certain you’ve drained him do you pull back, swollen lips coming off his cock with a wet pop. 

“Allll go-neee S-Sheee? HAhhhhh~♡”

Tits jiggling as you heave for air, you present your tongue to Enjin as proof you’ve swallowed all of him. Every. Filthy. Drop.

“Oh fuck me… you’re a nasty lil’ Trash Princess, aren’t you?”

You can’t help but agree—your throat’s wrecked and your pussy’s aching to be used just as thoroughly. Enjin’s fingers aren’t inside you any more, although they are still on your pussy, running through your folds absentmindedly.  

“Ngh—n-eed m-more,” you slur.

All your decorum was lost to the wind the moment you asked to see his dick—you don’t even care that it’s Enjin of all people that you just gave head to. Suddenly, the obnoxious pain in your ass seems like your only deliverance. Right now, you're more frustrated that you've spent so much time bickering with him when you could have been fucking him.

You much prefer his moans to anything else coming out of his mouth.

You need him to get hard again—immediately!

Enjin, mind mushy with release, takes another joint out to light. As much as he wants to return the favor after that kind of sloppy top, the man needs a minute.  His high has his whole body tingling from the post release sensitivity.

But you can’t wait any longer. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve had a proper orgasm and those were only from your own small, fumbling fingers. Throat achy and raw, you quiver at the masochistic thought of how his cock is going to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

You slide your panties down before flinging off your jacket and top.  Taking a seat on Enjin's lap, you're now clad in just your bra, your skirt that's bunched up at your hips, and thigh highs. Grabbing his cock, you give his soggy, half-hard girth a few encouraging pumps.

Your pussy is already slobbering, a viscous string of syrupy slick drips down from your slit to land on his cockhead, connecting you to him as you line him up. 

Feeling your fingers around his length, Enjin's eyes fly open, balancing the joint between his lips as he quickly shrugs off his own jacket, checking the pockets.

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll there sweetheart—you’re skipping a few steps.”

You aren’t listening though, not giving a fuck what Enjin is talking about as you cry out, grinding your clit against his fat tip, before running it back through your folds.

Enjin grits his teeth, coughing out smoke as he holds the joint in one hand and your hips in the other. You’re being a brat again, not listening to a single word he’s saying. 

“Gotta find my rubbers…also gotta stretch you out better, Princess—you’re gonna split in two if I don’t.”

You whimper, petulant and needy. You press his cockhead against your entrance, swiveling your hips like you’re going to recklessly sink down on him at any second.

“Huh? Rubbers?” You shake your head in confusion, pouting. “m’Ennnnjiiiiin…I can’t wait that long—puh-leaseee don’t make me wait s’long, Enjiiiiin. I can take it, promiseee!”

The way you sweetly coo his name is shattering any sense of self-control Enjin has left. The urge to submit you to the ultimate corruption surges hot through his veins, but Enjin knows how big he is and while he did want to break you, he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. You are absolutely nuts to want to ride him with so little prep—now, on top of everything else, you apparently wanted him to fuck you raw.

Wait—did you just ask what rubbers were? Did you not have condoms on the Sphere?

But any lingering concerns dissipate the second you start fighting to get his tip inside you.

“Too s-slow!” You groan.

Fear is the last thing on your mind—evident in the way you impale yourself on him, defiant even against the impossible stretch. Your pussy is tight around the swollen head of his cock, strangling it as your nails dig into his shoulders. You grind in slow, desperate circles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you bite them to keep from crying out, your body fighting against every inch.

Enjin watches with a dark glint in his eyes – you trying so hard for him makes him want to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions. But he’d let you have it at your own pace…for now. 

Releasing your hip, Enjin spits into his palm, rubbing his slick fingers over your clit in slow steady circles. 

“Such a hard-headed girl—c’mere…”

Enjin takes a long drag from the joint, balancing it between his fingers as he grabs the back of your neck. His lips crash into yours before you can think.

You gasp and Enjin takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke deep into your lungs, taking the harshest of the hit himself. You're left with only the smooth, earthy flavor warming your chest before it melts through your limbs.

But it’s the way he kisses you after that really knocks the ground out from under you. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with yours—hungry, messy, like he wants to steal the little air you have left until you’re only breathing him in.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hands buried in his soft buzzed undercut, anchoring yourself. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, teeth nipping your lower lip before diving right back in. All the while, his thumb keeps grinding into your clit, faster now, like he’s keeping rhythm with the pulse that’s beating under your skin.

Why does it feel this good? How is he doing this to your body? S’not fair! 

Not realizing you could feel this good from a kiss, you're unraveling in real time. Your mind goes blank with every pulse, every word, every inch. You’re not even fully seated yet, but you can already feel the blunt head of his cock grinding against your cervix, the pressure building with each centimeter you drop. You never imagined you could feel this full—like he might actually breach your womb.

The thought alone has you trembling, unstable, your aching thighs giving out, causing you to slide down a bit too fast. The thick veins along his length rake across your g-spot and your body snaps. A sharp, helpless spasm rocks you as your breath catches and a small, unexpected orgasm rolls through you.

Enjin pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though your body doesn’t stop shivering, lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

“Eh... did you just cum, Princess?”

The question is rhetorical, full of smug amusement, as he can feel the increasing wetness leaking down his cock, making it all the easier for you to slide down.    

Teasing your earlobe, Enjin’s tongue dips in to flick at the shell of it, making you clench.

“HA! Good fucking girl! A lil’ more and I bet she’ll be a real squirter f’er me.”

Enjin beams, proud of his Trash Princess. No woman had ever taken him this deep—not even close. Enjin hadn’t expected you to be any different. And yet…when Enjin looks down, he releases a groan deep from his gut.

The sight alone almost has Enjin nutting in you -- your drooling cunt spread so wide around his girth, sitting almost at his base. A thought flashes briefly – it's kinda like he’s a virgin again. Parts of his dick had never experienced this kind of molten heat so maybe, in a sense, he is? Enjin didn’t fucking care if he was though, as he ain’t about to be with the way your pretty pussy is giving way like it’s made for him. 

“Run that back.”

Enjin takes the final drag, pinching the smoldering end of the joint between his fingers before flicking it aside. He leans in again, slower this time. There’s no rush in how his mouth seals over yours. The second shotgun is less about the smoke and more about the feel of you—your lips parting for him, your breath syncing to his, and the small whimper you make as he sucks slowly on your tongue.

The haze spreads between you both, thick and warm. Simultaneously, his knuckles tease your clit, a soft schlick sound filling the space between you from you getting wetter by the second. By the strength of some unknown force, you finally bottom out, immediately collapsing into his neck. 

You both moan. Enjin feels you quivering from the inside out and you feel him everywhere—shifting your guts into your ribs. 

“I…I did it.”

Your smile blooms soft against his inked skin, lips grazing the spot where you can feel his own pulse hammering wildly.

Enjin’s in no state to congratulate you on your impressive feat. Completely sheathed in you raw, coring out your gummy walls into the shape of his dick—something in his brain chemistry fizzles. Like a bit of pussy juice, acting as a catalyst, slipped into his dick and traveled straight to his prefrontal cortex to corrode all of his previous thoughts about you. The result is clear.

Enjin doesn’t give a fuck if you are a snobby, annoying, needy lil’ brat who never let him get away with shit and bitches at him constantly—the furtherest thing from his type.

Because honestly?

Motherfuck a bullshit-ass type. Your slutty ass pussy is fuckin’ perfect. 

For the first time, Enjin realizes he might be in love with you. 

How could he even look at another woman after this?

One thing if for certain—Enjin is going to make damn sure you never have the desire to even look at another man.

Both his hands trail up your hips, groping and squeezing the plump curves of your ass before settling at your waist. His blunt black nails dig into your skin to pull you back from his neck.

Enjin whistles, admiring the stagnant stream of spittle lingering on your chin. Look at you—cockdrunk just from sitting on him. 

Enjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.

“Enjiiiiiin,” you whimper, not being able to hold yourself up. 

But your cries for him only inflame the predatory smirk on his lips, your honeyed cunt hugging his cock so beautifully. 

“Makes sense you fell from heaven, huh Princess?” 

Whether you're ready or not, Enjin forcibly winds you on his cock in slow circles. Your clit brushes up against the well placed pubic ring like a reward for being the first to experience it.

“—cause this pussy’s a fuckin’ angel.”

Your eyes are already lodged in your skull so you can’t even roll them at his cheesy line. But if your pussy is an angel, then Enjin's dick is most definitely a demon—his sinful cock tearing through your insides and condemning you straight to hell.

Moaning loudly, your body moves on autopilot—chasing more friction from the rhythm Enjin set. Good thing everyone was at happy hour or you would for sure be attracting some major attention now.

Although, to be honest you probably wouldn’t notice anyway. You don’t even notice when your bra falls away, your tits spilling out just so Enjin could watch them jiggle in his face. You only register its disappearance once his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue finally saying it’s ‘hello’.

“Shiiiiit!”

Your hips stutter, then stall when Enjin tugs at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

“Hey…I know my Trash Princess ain’t tappin’ out just yet.” 

SMACK!

Enjin brings a heavy palm down on your ass and your pussy clenches tighter around him. Enjin relishes the way your plush curves mold to his hands, each smack adding to the wet, messy sounds between you. You’ve already leaked enough on his lap to stain the sofa beneath you.

“Nah, ya just got on the ride, baby. Giddy-up.”

SMACK!

“NNNGH!” You weakly glare daggers at him. 

Any softness on Enjin’s face has since been replaced by something far more mischievous. If you thought he was obnoxious before—you’re about to learn he’s a full-blown menace inside of pussy.

Wobbling, you gather together what little resolve you have left to roll your hips forward. 

“HAAH! S’too biiiiiig,” you whine but your body can’t stop.

The juices saturated between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth bounce going.

“Fuck—that’s it, ride it like it’s yours, baby.” Enjin encourages you.

The way you cream harder every time he calls you 'baby' doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? You like me talking sweet to the pussy, baby girl?—Or do you just like being my filthy lil’ trash slut, hm Princess?”

Gritting your teeth, you grab on to Enjin’s shirt like reins, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y-You’re…gonna—ahshiiiit—hafta f-fuck m’better than thisss…if you want m-me to be your ‘baby girl’—Trash Daddy.”

Unfortunately, your sass falls flat—you can barely keep your head from lulling to the side. But Enjin’s thoroughly entertained nonetheless—he’ll take ‘Trash Daddy’ over ‘Trashy Poppins’ any day.

“Bet.”

Electricity runs through Enjin. He’s all charged up—now it’s his turn to unleash.

Your brow furrows from the noise Enjin makes—you’re not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get. 

Sliding down the sofa a bit, adjusting himself for stability, Enjin spreads his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor as he bullies his cock up into you like he's breaking in his own personal fleshlight.

All you can do is go slack, falling forward on his chest. His grip bruising your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram. 

The couch beneath you groans, its frame creaking under the strain. The wood and leather protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.

“Enjinnnnn, m’slowwww dowwwnnn!” 

Your cries only fuel his frenzy and Enjin knows from the way you’re gushing on him you can take it.

Fuck—this sweet lil’ pussy is just so good for him. Imagine if he never met you. 

If you never—

Enjin cuts the thought off cold. 

Moving before you can blink—your world flips. One second he’s pummeling up into you, the next you’re on your back. 

Enjin peels away his shirt, muscles flexing as he looms over you. His hands curl around your ankles to keep them pinned overhead. A single bead of sweat catches your bleary eyes as it slides down his bare chest, gliding over firm muscle. The bold ink patterns seem to come alive on his skin. He looks so fucking sexy right now and you can’t help but to shamelessly ogle him.

Yet, there’s something much too serious and somber about Enjin’s current demeanor. You’ve been staring at him far too long to go unnoticed. The highly expressive, sassy powerhouse is rarely this silent. He should be teasing you right now, asking some smartass shit like if you’re ‘enjoying the view’. 

“Enjin?”

Your sweet voice hits his ears and instantly you have his attention again. Enjin flashes you a pearly white smile.

“Heh, enjoy the break, Princess? You wont get another.”

Ignoring the question in your eyes, Enjin folds you into a mating press, thrusting to the hilt all in one motion. The sound of flesh lewdly slapping against flesh fills the room, as do your cries.

But there’s still something else burning in his eyes. Enjin knows it’s unfair not to be honest with you, but taking out his unspoken feelings on your pretty pussy is the only way he can express himself at the moment. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud creak followed by a decisive snap and two of the sofa’s legs give out. If your sweat and cum weren't like glue on the old leather you’d surely slide off head first. You yell out in alarm, but Enjin doesn’t give a fuck about the damn sofa.

His mood is still soured by the thought that wouldn’t be shaken away until he confronted it—

If you never fell.

But you did. He found you—and now that Enjin has you under him like this, he needs to fuck the point he’s concluded into you:

If Rudo ever finds a way to the Sphere, Enjin will personally travel there and see to your ex-husband himself. 

Hell, he might even rail you in front of him a few times—show him what a real man could do. Maybe even a real…husband?

If the sounds of sloshing fluids and skin slapping skin weren't ringing so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else, you would have thought Enjin had lost his mind with the way he was cackling above you.  He sounds completely deranged, laughing at the idea of him finally wanting to settle down all while continuing to pound you deeper into the broken sofa.

But despite being high off weed and your pussy, Enjin’s mind has never been more clear—he wants to lock you down.

“Hah… P-Princess, can ya feel me in your tummy? Right…” Enjin’s golden eyes lock on the ever-so-slightly distended bulge from the monstrous intrusion in your guts.

“....right, here.” 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, his large hands splay across your sweat sheened belly. You’re squirming under the heat of Enjin sandwiching your guts between his palm and his cock. Its all far too much—you’re too full, unable to really focus on what Enjin’s saying.

“Ahh, E-Enj—m’ c-cum, g-gonna mmm…” you hiccup, swallowing your tears.

Your nails rake down his arm to ground yourself but your body is thrumming too hard, adrift in the rush rolling through every one of your wired nerves. Your tits bounce obscenely every time your velvety walls devour his cock back down to the base. Enjin’s pubic piercing bucking against your clit has you clutching onto his dick like you were about to break it off.

You feel so fucking good. Enjin desperately needs to feel you creaming on his cock, and you would be soon if your kitten nails raking down his arms– adding more red to his already inked skin– were any indication. 

“That’s it, Princess, hah—fuck, baby, I got you. Squirt for your Trash Daddy.”

As if on command, the knot inside you coils to its breaking point, prickling every nerve, releasing a warm rush of fluids. Your body tingling in ecstasy, you quickly tumble over your peak, eyes blinded by speckles of brightness as you cum.

Yet Enjin hasn't slowed, his continuous pounding forcing more of your cum and squirt to gush out of you—the melody of his now drenched balls colliding with your wet ass only growing loude

“Fuck, that’s it. Pussy cryin’ like she wants my cum, Princess…” 

You’re barely conscious from all the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“She’s jealous that slutty throat of yours got all my cum, now it’s her turn to swallow, isn’t that right?”

It’s a rather roundabout way for Enjin to ask if he can nut inside you, but then again, he wasn’t really asking. The thought of breeding you makes him feral. 

“Ahh—f’nnghhhh!”

Non-verbal and fucked dumb, you’d probably agree to anything right now. You’re an utter mess–pussy stretched beyond anything you thought possible, face sticky with slobber rolling down to pool in the folds of your neck. 

“O’course it is…gonna dump all these trash babies into my princess’ sweet lil’ cunt.”

Although you are super turned on by the thought of Enjin breeding you, there's no way you have any idea how serious Enjin is about putting a baby in you. How could you? You don’t even realize the love confession his cock is professing to you.

“FUHHHH—take it!”

Enjin pumps thick ropes of his cum into your tummy as his body thrashes on top of yours. The primal intensity has you vibrating as another orgasm rips through your overstimulated and overworked pussy. Filled the brim, his spunk overflows, sploshing out of your pussy as he rocks his hips, urging his seed deeper to plant right in your womb.

In the afterglow, the two of you lie off-kilter in a tangled heap on the broken sofa. There’s blood rushing to your head— not the worst place for it, you think, all things considered. Enjin’s weight is heavy, his chest heaving into yours, warm and sticky as he wraps you in his arms. 

Just as you feel you both might drift off like this, Enjin stirs. Flinching, you whimper as Enjin wills himself up, his cock sliding out of your pussy with a squelchy suctioning noise. Your knees part for him with zero resistance as he inspects his handiwork, peeling apart your battered pussy lips to reveal your dug out slit. 

“Whewww,” Enjin whistles at the sight of the thick creampie glistening in your core. “All this cum your cute pussy pulled outta me—you’d think she was my jinki.”

Sober, you likely would have slapped him for referring to your pussy as his vital instrument. But ecstasy clouds your logic, so high off endorphins and other substances, you only giggle. It is kinda funny you suppose.

“Yeah—squirtin’ on command like that. Definitely an attack type.”

Spread open, the thick plug of spunk froths out of you. But Enjin simply tuts, pushing it right back in, not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Yeah, how about that, ’mma duel wielder! Yup, definitely gotta name ‘er now—what you thinkin’ I should call her, princess?”

Enjin sees the way your pretty cunny is twitching, and in his pussy drunk mind, it's an approval. The spasms that still quake through you are like tremors of Morse Code—your slutty pussy agreeing with him, begging for more. Flipping you over on your belly, Enjin is more than happy to fulfill any request of his new vital instrument.

“Got it! Cumbringer! The Umbreaker and The Cumbringer. Nice ring to ‘em, dont’cha think?”

Cumbringer!?

Later, you would definitely regret being so thoroughly fucked out of your mind you didn’t put a stop to this. Enjin is most definitely going to be insufferably proud of himself for the next 3-6 business weeks. He’d lord this over you and tease you with not-so-subtle hints around the rest of the cleaners. 

Yet, as Enjin is swabbing his huge cock through your folds, you feel the ache of loss in your core, wanting to be filled again and you can’t seem to find the fucks to care—you just needed more of his dick, like…now.

Pleased with your compliance, Enjin thumbs the dips at the small of your back, perching your ass up so your back arches real nice.

“Trash Daddy’s gonna take real good care of Cumbringer from now on, too. Make ‘er live up to the name.”

When Enjin pushes into you again, the new angle has him bullying against your g-spot with even more intensity than before. Seeing the way you jolt, he holds back from going as deep this time to directly abuse the spot. Slick runs down your legs and despite how slippery the ruined leather cushions are beneath you, Enjin still holds you firm as his cock sloshes through your ruined pussy.

“Say, how much anima you think is in my nut, Princess?”

You don’t respond but Enjin, proving to have the stamina of a beast, feels like he should give you at least two more doses just to be sure.

⛓

Fading in and out of a euphoric stupor, you’re unsure how much time passes. Absolutely cockdrunk, at some point, you’d simply just surrendered. Your pussy clearly has zero complaints about being a jinki for Enjin’s cock and you are too dumb once you get a lil dick to stop him.

Somehow, you’ve ended up folded over the wide coffee table. It’s unstable beneath you, but Enjin doesn’t seem to care what he breaks when he’s fucking you. He only moved from the sofa when the back of it finally broke.

Straining, you think you hear voices but everything feels so far away and fuzzy. The room gets darker and you realize Enjin’s thrown his coat over you. Still sheathed deep inside you, Enjin’s cock plants lazy kisses to your womb as he speaks rather casually to someone.

Hmm, did he get a call? Is that Semiu?

Semiu is likely calling, wondering why you both haven’t shown up to happy hour yet—shit. There’s no way you’re making it in this condition; your limbs are toast. You can’t even move the weight of Enjin's bulky jacket off of you, the heavy material trapping you in the humidity of your own breath and sweat. But in a way, the warmth is comforting. Your cheek resting against the wood, you allow the tent of muggy heat and his cock moving languidly inside you to lull you into complacency— in your delirium, everything feels like a nice dream.

Yet Enjin is fully alert, a shit eating grin on his face as he stares down Semiu and Gris who had just walked in on Enjin shamelessly beating your doonies down. Enjin only spared your modesty by covering you up, but he has no qualms with either Gris or Semiu seeing him in all his glory and doesn’t even bother pulling out of you.

A fact that is painfully clear as he pats the pockets of his jacket draped over you for his cigs—he might as well smoke if he’s giving you a break.

“I win,” Semiu turns to Gris, hand out expectantly.

Semiu’s cool expression never changes but there is amusement in her eyes as Gris fishes into his pockets and places a stack of bills into her hand.

“Tsk, damn…” Gris shakes his head, although he’s not shocked. 

The two of you are down so horrendously bad for each other that this should have happened long ago as far as everyone else was concerned. The tension has been at an unbearable level for those around you, the way the two of you picked at each other non-stop like a kid’s first crush.

Alas, you’re an airhead and Enjin is so stubborn he’s delusional. So the older Cleaner members couldn’t help, but place bets on when and where you and Enjin would finally slip between the sheets. Its a shame that you weren't in one of your beds right now--in between actual sheets--instead of the lounge becoming collateral damage.

“You know, after all the game you talked about winning your money back at poker tonight, Bro said you were a no-show because you knew you were gonna lose…” Gris eyes the boneless, quivering lump that is you under Enjin’s jacket. 

Enjin really did a number on you. Your nonsensical babbles pouting for Enjin to ‘make sure to tell Semiu to bring you back some fries from the bar’ obviously means you have no idea that they are actually in the room.

“But it looks like you have your ‘ace in the hole' for an entirely different game.”

Enjin chortles. His hips stutter forward a bit too hard and you squeak in protest, he just hushes you.

“Awe, so you came back all this way to check-up on us? How sweet,” Enjin says sarcastically, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hardly. Rudo accidentally chugged an entire beer he thought was soda—then proceeded to throw it all up over Zanka,” Semiu says flatly. 

Enjin attempts to hold back his laughter as Semiu continues with a sigh. She explains thatGris helped carry Rudo back, promptly putting his little blacked out ass to bed. Zanka locked himself in the bathroom immediately upon returning.

“Although they're sure to be occupied for the rest of the night, since the kids are back in the building you need to wrap this shit up Enjin—she looks like she could use the break anyway.”

Semiu casts a sympathetic look your way. She did warn you about Enjin though, so he was your mess to deal with now. 

“Sure thing,” Enjin says, patting your form underneath his coat, “I’ve trained my new jinki well enough for tonight.” 

Semiu takes one look at the absolutely diabolical grin on Enjin’s face and decides she's already had enough of his shit for the night.

She sighs again. “Just hurry it up, alright?”

Enjin gives Semiu a cheeky salute. Yet the second her back is turned, Enjin mimes a dramatic chef’s kiss to the air for Gris. Enjin’s eyes roll back like he’s just had the best meal of his life. 

Gris snorts, shooting him a wink and a thumbs-up for a ‘job well done’ like a proud teammate before heading out of the room as well.

“One more thing.”

Semiu pauses in the doorway, hands resting on the double doors, surveying the crime scene-like state of the lounge. The sofa is toast, the coffee table’s on life support, and there's a growing puddle under you, spilling over to slowly drip off its edge onto the floor.

“If you’re just going to recklessly rawdog her, at least get her on the pill. Alice can sort that out tomorrow—right after you replace every piece of furniture you’ve both annihilated.”

Enjin simply shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I suppose…we can stop by Alice’s too.” 

Semiu just rolls her eyes, only to wrinkle her nose as a wave of stale air wafts by.

“And for the love of god—crack a window. Smells like fresh ass in here.”

Once the doors finally click shut, Enjin rips his jacket off of you and smiles. You’re still blissed out in lalaland while your pussy, Cumbringer, is clenching around him like she has one more go left in her.

Grabbing your arm, he pulls you up. Still sheathed inside you, he sits back on his knees, bringing you with him, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mmmm—*yawns* Was that Semiu on the call, Enj?”

Call? Oh, heh.

“Ha, yeah baby girl, just Semiu on the line,” Enjin lies too easily. 

It’s for your own benefit though–no need to ruin your bliss with anything silly like embarrassment or shame from being walked-in on. Hell, unless Semiu says something, Enjin might be able to get away with not ever telling you.

“She said they ran outta fries though. I’ll get ya some later, yeah? Jus’ need Cumbringer to clock in one more time, Princess...”

Enjin rocks his hips with yours in a slow wave and your pout melts, no longer caring about the fries. Your head tips back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Ah, mmmm, b-but—ngnh!  She mentioned something about hotdogs and getting pills tomorrow? Is that a mission?”

Enjin hums to keep from laughing as he turns your face towards him. He smirks devilishly against your lips.

Distracting you with sweet chaste kisses, Enjin rubs gentle circles over your womb. You’re gonna be so fucking hot waddling around HQ in your slutty ass uniform, tits leaking and belly full with his brats. 

The only pill he’d get from Alice would be a fertility pill.

“Nothing my slutty baby girl or my Cumbringer gotta worry about, Princess. Leave everything t’me.”

𝐚𝐧: ahh tysm for reading, especially if you are new to my writing. enjin brain rot is lethal. i needed to get this outta my system! jjk girlies forgive me for straying from my wip list and kinktober lol. definitely down to write more of him. i have a p2 and another enjin story (an AU) idea. but i have to focus on my jjk kinktober now! ♡

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated that you weren't talking to him anymore. you barely looked at him in class. last monday he'd known for a fact that you scored higher than him in the recent test— but you didn't even look his way. let alone shove it in his face like he was hoping you would. what? was he nothing to you now that you fucked his brother? he couldn't make sense of it. even moreso, he couldn't understand why it upset him. he missed your rivalry. missed how you made class and academics fun again. most of all, he missed how you didn't back down to his belittling. you dished it back. made him want you. and now you were just. . . gone. all because of his fuckass twin.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ had gotten a bit tired of your games and the way you blatantly avoided him, so he made sure to utilise his greatest collection. . . videos. that he took of you when you so carelessly decided to go back to his dorm. featuring a fucked-out, glossy-eyed you taking his cock and whining on it. satoshi always did this. took videos of the girls he was with. but he rarely kept them. either forgetting about or deleting them later. yours though? he couldn't stop looking back on them. couldn't stop fisting his cock to them and remembering how your sweet cunt took him better than anyone ever did. head limped back on his couch and breathing shaky as he spurted all over his trembling fingers.

he sent one of the videos to you. with a cheeky little caption.

“ignoring me when I made you feel like this babydoll? c'mon. missing you. know you're missing me too.”

your reply was a heated voice note. telling him to delete your number. calling him a creep. but he could hear the fluster. it had him grinning. he sent one back, voice all velvet and rasped. “don't think I will. don't think my favourite girl wants me to.”

because whether he knew it or not— he was right. despite your shame, you hadn't stopped thinking about it. how good he felt inside of you. how he's the best fuck you'd ever had. the things he said to you swirled your mind on the daily.

you touched yourself to him some nights. rubbing your clit in a desperate attempt to replicate the callouses on his thumb. and you fucking hated it. because he was just some player. just some guy.

and not the guy you thought you were actually falling for.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was in the library when you finally approached him. it's been two weeks. no banter, no jabs, not even eye contact. so he did well with keeping his stare in his book. how'd you even find him here? no one came to this corner of the library and yet, here you were. maybe if he ignored your presence enough, you'd go away.

“so. . .” you started, he could feel you fiddling. then you sighed. shoulders sagged. “look, I just wanted to apologise for being such a bitch at start semester.”

his heart fluttered.

“the day before that your brother flirted and I didn't appreciate it. the next day I saw you in class and well. . .”

then sunk.

your face flushed. “it's stupid I know, but— I thought you were both the same person. I'm sorry. I should have figured it out.”

satoru's mind was spinning. he'd spent years creating his own identity separate from his twin brother. how the fuck did you think he and that thing were the same person?

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't care about how you flinched when he abruptly stood, the chair skidding behind him. with his eyes sharp and venom stuck to his tongue. he snapped.

“so what, fucking my brother put you in a good mood or something?” why was he acting like this? he wasn't sure. he didn't know why he was so angry.

actually, he did. he just didn't want to admit it.

and you, he's not sure what he expected other than your eyes growing just as cold. you were the same girl who butted heads with him in every academic suite after all. a part of him felt glad that you didn't take his shit. this felt nice. felt normal.

“what the hell, satoru? I'm just being honest. and how the hell do you even know that?”

“that's gojo to you.”

he corrected in a hiss. little did he know how familiar you were with the name. how you moaned it in pure bliss rather than his brother's.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ really shouldn't have been surprised with the banter that went on between the both of you. it was natural. your souls were like two negative poles. theory of repulsion. repulsed. he was repulsed by you. by the fact that you compared him to his brother. by the fact that you fucked that same. idiot. brother.

he's not even sure where the argument was going. only that it was pissing him off and that he almost didn't want it to stop.

he couldn't stop picking on the fact that you did it. that you actually went ahead fucked satoshi. he could see how flustered you got. how you didn't even try to deny the accusation but got all the more defensive.

but then you just had to go and say that.

“you know, since it pisses you off so bad maybe I'll just go fuck satoshi again.”

and that's. when he finally snapped.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ had more strength than people gave him credit for. you learnt that today. not because of how he gripped your jaw or shoved you into the bookshelf, knocking off a few books— but because of how his mouth crashed onto yours.

pure, unadulterated strength and even more roughness. with the way his mouth greedy clamped on yours. how your teeth meshed and your tongues tangled. the hard grip of his large hands. one firm on your waist and the other squishing your face.

if anything, he was rougher than satoshi.

wrestling your tongue and swallowing your whines. kissing you like he was trying to consume your very soul. maybe then you'd be his. his. all his. not fucking satoshi's.

you're not sure how many times he kissed you. every time he parted, it'd be for just a second before he was back at it again. swapping spit and strangling your hiccups. all you know was that when he did pull away, you were quivering. mouths webbed in stringy saliva and eyes hazed on one another.

that's when you felt it. hard and thrumming heavy on your thigh. your hips instinctively bucked up.

he grunted, squeezed your jaw tighter and pressed your head back into the shelf. “you serious right now?” he sneered. “your rival kisses you and you just what? get all soft and submissive? already tryna hump me like a bunny?”

fuck. the way that your eyes glossed over. . . he just couldn't help himself.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ can't believe he had you here now. pinned to the bookshelf with one hand clamped tight over your mouth and the other buried beneath your skirt. panties drenched and twisted to the side while two fingers messily fucked you raw. curling, and twisting, and pumping your squeezing walls.

he didn't care about making you cum. not really. all he cared about was fucking you stupid since you wanted to act like a dumb whore.

but he still did. staining your hand in his slick and forcing himself to pump faster. harder. just to see the way your knees shook and feel your slutty moans against his palm.

he was rough. clumsy. not as experienced as satoshi and it showed in the way his fingers pummelled your poor pussy into a creamy mess.

he might not have been experienced but he sure as hell studied female anatomy enough to know that his thumb was on your clit. rubbing shaky and sharp circles on the nub to send you spasming more.

satoru sneered into your face. jaw tight and eyes cold. “can't believe you're just another college slut. just like every other fuckin' girl in this place.”

his fingers sped up. wrist flicking. he curled just right on your sweet spot and rubbed the little spongy bundle of nerves into a merciless spasm.

he loved the way your eyes rolled back. how you bucked into his hand and whined. for him. this was for him. you were whining his name all muffled and moaned into his palm.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ drew his hand back to observe the sticky mess between his fingers. pulling his hand up to see the stringy cum all over his hand. webbed and musked. fuck. he was throbbing. glasses all fogged from his heavy breaths.

“the fuck is this, huh?” he grunts, hold his fingers for you to see. he slipped the hand on your mouth around your jaw again. pressed his messy middle and index fingers flat against your tongue and rubbed your cum on it.

his voice was a hissed grumble to your ear. “a few fingers and you shut right up? not so smart after all huh, sweetheart?“

and then he was burying them back into your flooding pussy all over again. he didn't care if you were shaking like a leaf. if you were overstimulated. he didn't even know what that meant.

all he cared about was making those pretty eyes flutter back. making you cum around his fingers cause he was addicted to feeling those velvety rings clench around his knuckles.

but most all? all he cared about was that it was him doing this to you.

even if he hardly knew what he was doing. that puddle between your legs? the trembling in your thighs? your pussy pulsing and sobbing all over his palm?

that was because of him. gojo fucking satoru.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was panting himself by the time he was done. his arm was jittering and his wrist ached. but he still dragged his tongue and licked your trickling sweetness off of wrist and the back of his hand as he drew it to his mouth.

you were more than a mess. whimpering and weeping. limp on the shelves as you clung to his arms.

he felt something akin to pride.

but then you started grinding that slick, creamy cunt on his crotch. right over his bulge. hot and wet and smearing it all over his throbbing erection. his breath hitched.

your eyes were sweet and fluttery. but your whines were sweeter. you tried to humping on him. catching your clit on the curve of his hard-on to bring yourself friction. greedy girl. hadn't he finger-fucked you enough?

“please,” you whimpered. “please please please satoru, I'm sorry. just please. I need more. please fuck me.”

his breathing was thin. here you were. the girl he was obsessing over for months. begging him to fuck you in some corner of the library.

and the worst part was?

he was gonna deny you.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ felt his heart ache as you looked on the verge of tears when he pulled away with nothing but a grunt. he fixed your skirt and swiped off his stained hand on your inner thigh. “we've got studying.” he mumbled. he didn't know why he was doing this. didn't know why he was running away.

but every time you pawed at him. every time he saw that desperate look in your eye. that plea to just fuck you— he couldn't. no.

his mind starting spurring with what ifs. berates and insecurities and embarrassment because he just did that. he just fingered you in a public setting. uncoordinated and probably hopelessly clumsy.

his face was red. glasses fogged. but he wouldn't let you see that as he denied each of your advances and shuffled out of the library.

he needed a cold shower. forget that all of this happened.

forget the voice in his head telling him he'd fuck everything up if he even tried to fuck you.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ felt horrible, but now it was his turn to avoid you. he stopped talking, stopped looking, stopped interacting. and all of a sudden? you were trying to get back to normal. but for other reasons. he heard those little comments. knew that fucking beat inside of you was trying to make him snap. he couldn't take it. he almost did.

but he denied every advance you made. ignored the eyes you were giving him. the comments, the innuendos, everything.

he couldn't fuck you. you'd fucked satoshi. you'd know. you'd know.

he couldn't. he wouldn't embarrass himself like that. and you were getting frustrated.

because the guy you thought was one person. the personality you'd been falling in love with— you finally had a taste of him. you dreamt of that day in the library. how he held you. how he kissed you. how he spoke to you.

you wanted more. needed more. and when he didn't give it to you? well. . .

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was quite surprised when he opened his dorm door one night to be greeted by your lips. greedy and hasty as your hands snatched his collar. he stumbled back, grunting and wide eyed. but his body fell into rhythm. hands gripping your waist, heel kicking the door shut.

he scooped you up by the backs of your thighs, groaned loud and wrecked into your mouth. “fuck yeah babydoll. attagirl. knew you missed me.”

as he tumbled you both into his couch. hands roaming every inch he'd been dreaming of for three weeks straight. mouth worshipping your skin in a way he never did for any other girl.

completely unaware that as his head ducked between your thighs, as his tongue lathered all over and your hands gripped tuffs of his white hair in them—

you were imagining a pair of glasses perched atop it instead.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: @/_teaforgods (ig).

ᝰ.☆ enjoyed this piece? consider joining my patreon or commissioning me <3 I appreciate all the support!

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ would try his luck. you and him were in a thursday and friday class, and he'd use his every waking opportunity to grab your attention. flirts, charms, everything infuriating in between. he caught you in town once, rushing to get to campus and of course, offered you a ride.

“c'mon babydoll. is being late to class really better than takin' a ride with me?” he'd grin.

you'd flip him off. hiss another rejection. you knew about guys like him. you saw him in the hallways. loud, boisterous, flirting with any pair of pretty eyes that looked his way.

it confused you though. why'd he only flirt with you on thursdays and fridays? also where were his glasses?

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ would go on to be your enemy of the semester. ever since your altercation in class, he's made it his personal life goal to hate you with his entire being. unfortunately for him, you were also smart. but a bit too confident for your own good, it seemed. did you really think you could compete with him? and so began the most fiery academic rivalry in history.

you'd be neck in neck. fighting for first place as professor's pet and battling it out on the grade scoreboards.

he'd get an assignment back with a stellar 99%, only to look over at your measly 94%. he'd grin, like an asshole. “must be hard being such a loser, huh?”

only to crumple his next assignment into tight fists when you managed to get just one percentage higher than him.

he'd exchange banter with you. debate you in class. call you a brat when you tried to prove him wrong and challenge him.

you were brilliant and unfortunately, beautiful. satoru didn't know what was happening to him. it slowly became something that wasn't just academics. and that terrified him.

as for you? you were in the same boat. the last thing you wanted was to fall in love with this asshole. but you had to admit, he looked cuter when he decided to wear his glasses and tone down the fuckboy act every monday and tuesday.

why'd he switch so drastically through the week? what a weirdo.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ listened to his brother rant about the irritating girl that was his astrophysics desk partner. about how she was so unnecessarily rude and even more audacious. satoshi couldn't help but grin. was satoru, his loser of a brother, actually finding love? and when he found out that the girl in question was you? he couldn't blame him. he's been trying for months to get your number, let alone get up your skirt. he dubbed it as competitiveness. he's never had a girl reject him and thus— it's made him a little obsessed. he couldn't stop thinking about you. in bed, in the shower, hell, seeing you walk around campus and not even look at him was torture.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated himself for the way he turned out. he's not sure how it happened. just one day after a heated debate with you, he'd stormed off back to his dorm. collapsed in his desk. shoved his glasses into his hair. and soon, angry scribbling in his notes became desperate jerks of his hand as he fucked his fist. to the thought of you. that grating voice, that beautifully sharp mind. everything. he hated himself. hated that he was thinking about this. he wasn't satoshi. he didn't want girls like this— he sure as hell didn't fuck his fist this needy to one either. and yet when he spurted all over his hand, panting hard and whispering your name, it felt oddly right. it scared him.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ dragged satoru out at the end of semester to a party. told himself he was being a good brother. might as well try to get along, right? but satoru was so boring. he didn't drink, didn't chat, just sat in some corner with his headset on and scrolled through his phone. and satoshi? he was all over the place. bouncing and bubbling, bumping and grinding. a red solo cup in his hand. keeping as far as fucking away from his twin as possible. fuck. why'd he even bring him here?

his irritation washed away the second he saw you, however. dolled up, dangerous, looking like both sin and sugar. he left behind his friends, ignored whatever girl tried to come his way.

he found you at the drinks table. propped his forearm on it and grinned at your little glare.

“this isn't really your scene, babydoll. tagged along with someone?”

“a few friends.”

“wow. so she can be polite.”

you rolled your eyes and noticed he wasn't wearing his glasses. seemed that the fuckboy persona was on for the night. you bit back your questions and swirled your drink in your cup.

“you never give up, do you?” you mulled.

his head took a charming curve as he sipped his drink.

“not when I want something, no.” those blue eyes raked down your frame. tracing every curve. familiarising every inch.

he dared to lean closer. white lashes batting as his grin sets into a stunning smile.

“especially when that something is as a pretty as you.”

your heart fluttered. you shouldn't have talked to him. shouldn't have kept talking to him.

you're not sure how it happened. maybe finally accepting his flirts. maybe after months of touching yourself to the academic rivalry. this heated push and pull between the both of you.

you should have known better, but— you did it. you let satoshi take you to his dorm.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ has been around the block. his touch dripped with experience. he unclasped your bra with ease. barely missed a beat in kisses. large hands roaming your sweet body he's been dreaming about since the start of semester. not an inch of hesitance in his fingertips as he slipped under your dress and dragged your damp panties down. “such a pretty girl,” he crooned to your ear. how many girls had he said that to? how many did he mean it?

he's been after you for months. chasing, wanting— yearning. satoshi never yearned. he got everything he ever wanted in life.

maybe that's why he loved having to work for you. for your smooth body on his bed, opened up and so soaked for him. maybe that's why he actually took his time. mouthing on your skin. burying his face in your cunt.

he only ever ate women out as a way to get them ready. courtesy, if anything. but now? fuck, he's never actually feasted on a girl. with his hands, calloused from endless hours on his bike, dragging your thighs over. trapping you. mouth messily moving on your slit. slurping, sucking, shaking his head and nudging his nose into your clit.

he fucked you on his tongue. made you cum on it more than any girl ever has. and as you gripped his hair and whined for him? not some prissy comment or attitude? he almost came in his pants.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't even care less if you didn't suck him off. he didn't even want you to. he needed to be inside of you. needed to hold you down and fuck you into his sheets. make the girl who was so unattainable finally his.

the second he was buried to the hilt inside your welcoming pussy— he couldn't breathe. you were hot, tight, suffocating him with your dripping slick and clenching cunt. he's had many girls in this position before. but no one looked up at him with those eyes. no one sounded this sweet. made him lose his fucking mind.

satoshi wasn't gentle. he couldn't be. the second his tip smooched your cervix, his hands clamped on your waist as his hips started snapping. hard, controlled. an experienced rhythm that stuffed all his inches deep into your gooey heat and meshed your clit with his pelvis.

“fuuckk, babydoll,” he groaned from the back of his throat. hunching over you. one hand gripped your hip while the other slipped around to cup the back of your head.

he was losing himself. losing his fucking mind. the bed creaked. headboard tapped. but your pretty moans were all he was focused on. your sweet whimpers and little whines as he alternated rhythms. rolled his hips. went from grinding to humping to thrusting, until your toes curled and your back lurched off of the bed.

pretty nails down his back. teary doll eyes on him as your slick dripped down his balls and splattered all over his thighs with each firm thrust.

your lips parted. eyes glossed. he saw it. cradled your head close and slipped a thumb to your clit. he knew what it meant. saw his name on your tongue.

a groan built on his. thrusts surging into wet, rushed slaps pounding against your ass.

“say it for me baby. c'mon, say my name.”

“s-sat— sato—. . .” your eyes fluttered. head thrown back. loud and needy, your moan broke into the air.

“satoru!”

and broke satoshi's mind.

you didn't know any better. they're both reffered to as “gojo” in class and you've only heard one other person refer to one of them as “satoru”. you thought that was his name. thought they were one person.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ frozen. stiffened mid thrust as the last syllables stung his ear. satoru. satoru. his twin brother? did you really just fucking call for his twin while he's balls deep inside of you. making your cunt cream and cry for him. making you— wait.

didn't satoru say you were rude to him for no reason at all?

satoshi's mind worked fast. piecing the puzzle and timeline together. you confused satoru for him back then. he didn't know whether to be amused or angry.

amused because, how in the hell did you think they were the same person?

angry because, he's the one who's been working his ass off for you attention— and it's his brother's name that you call instead?

either way, he grinned. halfway a threat and a taunt. “oh?” he crooned, bucking his hips hard into yours so that his fully seathed cock dragged on all of your sweet spots.

he leaned over you. white hair dusting over icy blues. your jaw trapped in his strong hand.

“you want toru baby? want me to go get him for you?”

your confused look almost had him cackling. before he slammed! into you again. hands bundling your thighs. grin turned sharp. he yanked you down to choke your cunt on his cock and jerked forward. pounding you into the mattress and snapping the headboard into the wall as your moans pitched into cries.

“sato—!”

he gripped your jaw tight. shoved two fingers on your tongue before you said his name again and made satoshi fuck you until you were a limp cumdump.

“satoshi.” he corrected with a pointed sneer. his rabid pace not once letting up. frustration pulsed into every vein of his ramming cock.

“satoshi. satoshi.” he grit, punctuating each repeat of his name with a rough thrust.

“satoshi's the one fucking you. not satoru. satoru's my fuckin' twin. I'm the one fucking this pretty cunt stupid. I'm the one you should be calling for.”

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't give you time to process the fact that you'd thought he and his brother were one person. egged on from the frustration of wanting someone more than he's ever wanted anyone— only to have them moan out his twin's name— spurred his mind feral.

he pounded you into his sheets. pummeling your poor pussy until you squirted all over him. again, and again, and again— until you were saying his name. whining his name. sobbing his name.

he's not sure how many rounds he fucked you through. three? four? he pushed and pulled you into whatever position he could think of. threw your legs over his shoulders and fucked you until your eyes crossed. shoved you onto your stomach and pounded against your ass until your drool stained his pillow.

he couldn't care about finally having you anymore. if you wanted to act dumb— he'd fuck you stupid. fuck his silly girl who couldn't tell the obvious difference between him and his brother who actively despises him.

he made sure it was his name you knew. made sure you knew it was him inside of you. his cock making you cum. his hands holding you through it. and for extra measure? he sucked his name in hickeys on your collarbone.

TOSHI in blushing bruises.

he made sure to cum inside. creampie you nice and full until it was dripping. then snatched your panties and wiped the mess clean with them. he stashed them away for later.

˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ stirred the next morning to you shuffling out of his arms. he tried to pull you in, kiss your head, but you were up and frantic. he cracked an eye open, watching as you shuffled out of bed and searched for your clothes. you looked almost panicked. he couldn't help but grin at the sight of your nude body prancing around his room, littered in all the marks he'd given you.

he propped his head onto one of his hands, brow arched and grin audacious. “something wrong, babydoll?”

oh, there's that glare he loved. only now you looked utterly embarrassed. flushed face and glossy eyes as you clumsily pulled on your clothes.

“shut up.” you mumbled, but made the mistake of looking in the mirror. you saw it. hickies spelling out his name. the night crashed back into you.

right. you thought the twins were one fucking person.

satoshi could only grin. tilting his head and pouting. as if he felt sorry for you.

“awww baby, embarrassed? 's okay. it was cute.” he sat up, raking his eyes that grew progressively darker down your wrecked frame.

“just a reminder. that it wasn't toru fucking that sweet cunt. toshi bruised those pretty thighs up, kay?”

he snickered as you tossed a pillow at him. still called you babydoll as you called him creep.

˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ texted his brother the same day.

“the fuck did you dip to? could have told me.”

he nearly broke his phone at the reply.

“sorry. your little rival was all over me. had to take care of her.”

satoru stared at his phone. telling himself it was fine. that he shouldn't be mad. he didn't feel a fucking thing for you— why should he care?

maybe because satoshi always got the girls.

maybe because he hated him.

he shoved his phone into his pocket. got up and went to class. you weren't looking at him. guilt riddled in your stare that remained forward.

fucking. great. of course you were just like every other girl on this campus.

he was in a mood all day. avoided his brother like he always did and kept to himself. all he wanted was to get to his dorm, kick off his shoes, study, maybe read some manga, play on his switch.

so imagine his surprise when he found a crumpled pair of cum-filled panties strewn over his bed and heard the familiar engine rev from outside his window?

it didn't take a genius to know whose those were.

his hands trembled. glasses fogged and slipped down his nose. red swarmed his vision.

satoru didn't quite know how to throw a punch, but he's never wanted to break his brother's jaw more.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine. art cred: @/_teaforgods (ig).

ᝰ.☆ enjoyed this piece? consider supporting or commissioning me <3 part two coming soon!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

__________________

Lights out, 9:10 pm.

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

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

“Quit. Moving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things are just okay, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” you mutter quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now kneel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I say you could speak?”

You gulp.

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

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

“Lick the floor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speak.”

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

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

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

“Have a little crush on me?”

You gulp, shaking your head. “N-No.”

He stands. “Why are you here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________

Later, 11:25 am.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal?”

You clench your eyes shut and nod.

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

___________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to prep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it,” he drawls, “open up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s reaching for your nonexistent dick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_______

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____________

Sometime in the middle of the night, Your cell.

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

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

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

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

And ask for it, he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head stubbornly, clenching your eyes shut.

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

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

Still, you don’t open your legs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit.”

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

“Why are you here?”

He watches you with equal parts curiosity and amused awe.

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

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

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

“Don’t— please don’t tell anyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp, nodding. “Yes, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we fuck first?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t you bring it to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

Oh. This’ll be fun.

______

SORRY edged you there, didn’t I?

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

the potion bubbles once — a soft shimmer, a tiny spark — and you’re leaning back thinking maybe this is gonna work, when your apartment door swings open without a knock. without anything. just chaos.

“HEY—” satoru announces himself like the human embodiment of a car alarm. “what are you cooking? smells kinda fruity. like you, i guess.”

you flinch so hard the whisk flies out of your hand.

“satoru. don’t. you can’t just— you can’t be here right now.”

he ignores all of that immediately and comes up behind you. leans over your shoulder and peers into the pot.

“is that… pink hot chocolate?” he asks, delighted. “wow. didn’t know you made drinks that matched your personality. adorable.”

“don’t touch it,” you warn, reaching for the pot—

he grabs a mug. fills it.

...and downs it.

you actually slap your own forehead. “oh my god. satoru—”

he blinks once. twice. his pupils dilate so fast it looks like someone hit a switch.

“wow,” he says softly.

oh no.

“you’re—” he takes one slow, reverent step toward you, “—beautiful.”

OH NO.

“satoru— sit. SIT. you weren’t supposed to drink that—”

he takes your hands in his like you’re reenacting a wedding vow. “why didn’t you tell me you were in love with me?”

“OH MY GOD, I’M GOING TO PASS OUT.”

“no don’t faint!” he panics, cradling your face like you’re made of spun sugar. “who will i marry if you die???”

“STOP SAYING WE’RE IN LOVE.”

but it’s too late.

the potion sinks its teeth in and satoru becomes… different.

clingy. sparkly-eyed. hopelessly, violently obsessed.

satoru clings to your hands like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks too slowly. you try to peel his fingers away; he just tightens them, eyes wide and glassy and so full of emotion it makes your stomach hurt in a way you’re not prepared to unpack.

“satoru,” you try again, voice strained, “that wasn’t for you.”

“it was for someone else?” he asks, looking genuinely betrayed. “someone… better?”

you groan. “it wasn’t for anyone better. it was— ugh, just— sit down before you fall over.”

he doesn’t sit. he steps into your space, presses his forehead to yours like he’s trying to merge souls, and whispers, “i can’t lose you.”

“YOU’VE NEVER HAD ME.”

he gasps like you shot him. “not yet.”

you swear under your breath, tug your hands free, and make the tragic mistake of turning around.

because he follows.

like a duckling. like your shadow drank four espresso shots.

“stop following me.”

he bumps into your back like he didn’t hear a single word you said. “i literally can’t.”

“it’s a potion side effect.”

“no,” he says, completely serious. “it’s destiny.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. “i hate magic.”

“i love you.”

you scream internally.

the next few hours are hell.

you go to brush your teeth — he stands right beside you, brushing his own teeth with your spare toothbrush like you’re reenacting a couple’s commercial.

you try to make coffee — he hugs you from behind and whispers, “we should share a mug.”

you try to put on shoes — he kneels down and tries to tie them for you, fails, and kisses your ankle in apology.

you try to go to class — he walks beside you like a man escorting his pregnant wife to safety.

“you didn’t have to come with me,” you mutter.

“i literally did,” he says proudly, wrapping your arm through his. “love demands sacrifice.”

love demands therapy, you think. love demands a restraining order.

class is mortifying.

satoru sits next to you, thigh pressed against yours, leaning in so close his hair tickles your cheek every time he inhales. he takes notes for you. for you. with little hearts in the margins.

then the professor calls your name.

satoru raises his hand.

“she’s here,” he says. “my girlfriend.”

every single person turns.

you consider jumping out the window.

during break he corners you against a vending machine, dramatic and breathless like the moment demands violins.

“don’t talk to anyone else,” he whispers.

“why?”

“because they might fall in love with you,” he says, dead serious, “and i simply cannot handle that.”

you shove him away so hard he almost trips.

you don’t know when it starts — maybe after lunch, maybe after the third time he hugged you just a little too long — but something in satoru’s expression shifts.

he keeps staring at your mouth. and your neck. and your hands.

and then he lets out a soft, frustrated whine that nearly buckles your knees.

“what now?” you sigh.

“i think,” he whispers, cheeks pink, “you activated a secondary effect.”

“what secondary effect?”

he reaches down and gestures at— yeah. down there.

your soul leaves your body.

“FIX IT,” he whispers harshly.

“IT’S NOT MY FAULT.”

“you brewed the potion,” he accuses.

“YOU DRANK IT.”

“because fate wanted us to be together!”

you rub your temples. “you just want to have sex.”

he gasps, offended. “i want love! intimacy! closeness! spiritual bonding!”

then he leans in and groans against your neck. “…and maybe sex.”

you don’t know the exact moment you snap — maybe it’s when satoru crowds you against your own kitchen counter, begging under his breath, voice cracking like he’s in pain. maybe it’s the way his hands shake when he holds your face, or the soft, ruined little sound he makes when you push him away, like rejection physically hurts him.

or maybe it’s just that you’re tired, and he’s warm, and you’ve been wanting something — someone — to want you this desperately for a long, long time.

all you know is that one second you’re arguing, and the next his mouth is on yours and you melt.

he kisses you like he’s drowning. like he’s holding onto you for air.

his hands slide into your hair, gripping gently, pulling you closer like he can’t bear the space between your bodies. the first moan slips out of him so easily it shocks you — soft and breathy, right against your mouth, his hips already pressing forward like he can’t control them.

“please,” he whispers, kissing you again, deeper, messier. “i need you. i can’t— i can’t think—”

you grip his shirt, pulling him closer, and he breaks — you feel it, the way he gasps into your mouth, the way his body goes hot and trembling against yours.

he lifts you before you can protest, hands firm under your thighs, carrying you like you weigh nothing. your legs wrap around his waist automatically, your breath catching when you feel him — hard, insistent — grinding between your legs through his sweats.

“satoru—” you gasp.

“i know,” he breathes, forehead against yours as he stumbles you both into your bedroom. “i know, i know, i know— just let me— god, let me have you—”

he lays you on the bed but doesn’t leave your body for a second, crawling over you, kissing you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. your shirt is gone before you register the moment he pulled it over your head; his lips are already on your neck, trailing down, slow and reverent, like every inch of your skin deserves worship.

and maybe in his potion-flooded brain, it does.

“you’re perfect,” he mutters against your collarbone, kissing lower. “you’re— you don’t understand what you’re doing to me.”

his fingers trace the waistband of your shorts. he hesitates.

you nod.

he exhales like he’s finally allowed to breathe. your shorts come off in one slow pull. his eyes drag up your body like he’s seeing real light for the first time.

“holy shit,” he whispers. “i’m gonna die.”

he kisses down your stomach, slow, teasing, maddening. your hips arch into his mouth without meaning to, and he groans like your body reacting to him is the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“please,” you whisper, surprising yourself.

his eyes snap up to yours.

“say that again,” he breathes, voice breaking.

“please,” you repeat, breathless. “touch me.”

he lowers himself between your thighs like he’s kneeling before a shrine.

and when he puts his mouth on you — warm, soft, so gentle it kills you — your hand shoots into his hair, pulling, and he moans like you’ve just given him permission to live.

he eats you out like a man starved.

slow at first, savoring, tongue flattening against your clit in long, steady strokes that make your legs shake. his hands hold your thighs open, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the softest parts of you, grounding you and wrecking you all at once.

“you taste—” he breaks off with a groan, licking deeper, slower, like he’s savoring every second. “god, i knew you would.”

“satoru—”

“i’m here,” he whispers against you, voice desperate. “i’m right here— just let go, baby, please—”

you come undone embarrassingly fast.

your thighs clamp around his head, your back arches off the bed, and he moans into you like your orgasm is something he can feel in his bones. he doesn’t stop — he keeps licking, softer, slower, coaxing you through every wave until you’re trembling and gasping and pushing weakly at his shoulders.

he kisses the inside of your thigh, slow, sweet, too tender for someone who just ruined you with his mouth.

“c’mon,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “wanna feel you around me.”

you pull him up, kissing him again, tasting yourself on his tongue, dizzy and breathless as he grinds against you. his cock presses between your legs, thick and hot through his sweats, and he groans into your mouth like he’s falling apart.

“take it off,” you whisper.

he does — fumbles, actually, cursing under his breath as he kicks his sweats away, climbing over you again, hair falling into his eyes, breath shaky.

he lines himself up. and he sinks into you.

your breath catches; his does too.

“oh— my god,” he says, voice breaking entirely. “you’re— fuck— you feel—”

he can’t finish a sentence. he pushes deeper and deeper until you’re fully filled, stretched around him, and he collapses against your chest with a helpless groan.

“i can’t— i can’t believe you let me— i love you, i love you so much—”

your hands grip his shoulders, pulling him closer, and that’s what snaps his restraint.

he pulls out slow, thrusts back in harder, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl and your breath break. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his moans hot against your skin, hips moving with a desperation that borders on worship.

“i need you,” he gasps. “i need you so bad— please— don’t stop— don’t leave me—”

“i’m not,” you whisper, nails dragging down his back.

he chokes on a sound and fucks you like he’s losing his mind.

you cum again, tighter, harder, pulling him down with you, and he follows seconds later, spilling into you with a broken groan that sounds like surrender.

he stays inside you, panting, trembling, kissing your shoulder like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he stops touching you.

and that’s where the potion starts to crack.

satoru doesn’t give you time to recover. he’s still inside you, still hard enough it’s almost unfair, and even though he’s shaking, even though his breath is a broken mess against your throat, he pulls his hips back and fucks into you again—slow at first, testing, like his body hasn’t caught up to the fact that he already came.

you gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders. “satoru— wait— you need a second—”

“no,” he whispers, breath hot and frantic, “i can’t stop— you don’t understand— i need you—”

his lips brush your jaw, your cheek, your mouth, messy and desperate, like he’s afraid if he stops kissing you for even one moment you’ll disappear.

“please,” he breathes, voice cracking right against your lips, “don’t make me stop, i’ll die—”

you want to laugh, but the way he thrusts into you wipes every thought from your head. he’s deeper now, angling his hips just right, hitting places inside you that make your breath hitch and your thighs tremble. you can feel him everywhere—his hands gripping your waist, his chest pressed to yours, his breath shaking against your shoulder.

he feels unreal.

he feels like he’s been wanting this far longer than the potion could explain.

and maybe that’s why you don’t notice the shift at first.

the pressure in him changes—his rhythm, his breath, the tension in his muscles. something coils differently beneath your hands. his hips stutter, just slightly, like he forgot what his body was doing.

his breath stills.

his thrusts slow—not stopping, but hesitant.

“satoru?” you whisper.

he lifts his head.

and you know instantly.

his eyes—god, his eyes—they’re still blown, still dark, still hungry, but something clears in them like fog burning off glass. something grounds. something real returns behind the blue.

he blinks once. slow. confused.

your heart stops.

you feel him still inside you, buried deep, your legs still wrapped around his waist, his breath shaking against your cheek—but the spell? the haze? the feverish devotion?

it’s gone. or—it’s changing.

“what… what am i—?” he starts, voice hoarse, like he’s waking from a dream he doesn’t know he was having.

you panic instantly, trying to shove him back, scramble away, anything to lessen the humiliation clawing up your throat.

“it wasn’t— i didn’t mean— satoru, i swear, it wasn’t for you, you were under a spell, i’m so sorry, i didn’t—”

but he grabs your wrists. gently.

“hey,” he says quietly. “look at me.”

you try. your vision blurs.

he cups your cheeks with both hands, thumbs brushing your skin, still inside you like the most intimate kind of trap. “i’m not stopping,” he says.

your breath catches. “satoru— you don’t have to— it’s just the potion—”

“the potion wore off.”

his hips press into yours—slow, deeper than before.

you gasp.

his voice drops into something low. something that has nothing to do with magic.

“and i’m still not stopping.”

he kisses you—slow, nothing like the frantic potion-driven hunger before. this kiss is worse. it’s honest. it’s intentional. it’s him.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, breath hot and uneven.

“i want you,” he whispers. “not because of a spell. not because I’m confused. because I’ve wanted you for longer than I should admit.”

your chest caves.

his hands move to your hips, pulling you closer on his cock, and he rolls his hips into you with a control that makes your eyes flutter shut.

you whimper. he swallows it with another kiss.

“so unless you tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, “i’m going to fuck you the way i’ve actually wanted to.”

you don’t tell him to stop.

you can’t.

not when he withdraws slowly, the drag making your nails dig into his back, not when he thrusts back in with a force that knocks sound out of you, not when he moans your name like he’s saying it for the first time without any magic twisting his tongue.

he’s different now.

every thrust is deep, like he’s learning your body from scratch. like he’s savoring every inch of being inside you. like he’s been imagining this for way longer than the past few hours.

“god,” he breathes, voice low and wrecked in your ear, “you feel even better like this. when i’m actually myself.”

you choke on a moan.

“look at me,” he whispers, slowing his thrusts just enough to make you desperate. “i want you to see it. i want you to know it’s real.”

you do.

and it ruins you.

your orgasm builds too fast, too sharp, your entire body tightening around him, dragging him deeper. he groans—a raw, unfiltered sound—and his thrusts turn messy again, needy, desperate, entirely human.

“cum,” he whispers. “please— please cum for me—”

you do.

you fall apart with his name tangled on your tongue, body clenching around him so hard he gasps your name like a prayer right against your mouth.

he finishes inside you with a low, shaking moan, hips pressing tight to yours, arms wrapping around your body like he’s holding onto something he finally gets to keep.

he stays like that.

still inside you. still breathing hard. still kissing your cheek like he's afraid to stop.

and when he finally manages to speak, it’s quiet. breathless. real.

“told you,” he whispers, lips brushing your jaw, “i wasn’t stopping.”

you’re still catching your breath when satoru finally rolls onto his side, dragging you with him like he’s afraid gravity might separate you. he’s warm and heavy and completely overwhelming, and he kisses your shoulder once, soft, almost shy—in a way you do not have the emotional stability to process right now.

you mumble into the pillow, “we need to… talk… about what just happened.”

he hums, lazy and smug, arm tightening around your waist. “mm. later.”

“no, not later— satoru, you were under a potion—”

“keyword: were,” he says, brushing your hair back so he can kiss behind your ear, “and then i wasn’t, and i still stayed inside you, so—”

you slap his arm.

he grins into your shoulder like you just confirmed his entire worldview.

and then—a knock.

you jolt upright. “oh my god.”

satoru groans dramatically and flops onto his back. “whoever that is better be ready to leave disappointed.”

“satoru— put your pants on.”

“no,” he says instantly. “i live here now.”

“NO YOU DON’T.”

you’re scrambling for clothes, for anything that doesn’t scream “i just got railed into a different universe,” when the knock comes again.

you freeze at the door. you know that knock.

your stomach drops. “oh my god. it’s him.”

satoru lifts his head from the pillow like a golden retriever who heard food hit the floor. “him?”

“suguru,” you whisper. “the one the potion was for.”

satoru goes still.

and then he smiles.

not a nice smile. a slow, wide, predatory little thing that tells you someone is about to have a really bad day.

he doesn’t reach for his shirt. he doesn’t fix his hair. he just sprawls across your bed and goes, “open it.”

“satoru—”

“open. it.”

you open the door.

and there he is, your original crush—standing awkwardly in the hallway, holding your notebook like it’s a peace offering.

“hey,” he says softly. “you left this in the library, and I just— oh.”

his eyes travel from your flushed face… to your neck… to the oversized shirt you threw on… to the very tall, very shirtless man in your bed behind you.

staring. directly. at him.

suguru clears his throat. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

you’re about to stammer out some excuse, ANY excuse, but satoru beats you by a mile.

he sits up slowly, sheets falling off his hips, revealing way too much skin for normal social interaction.

“no thank you,” he says.

suguru blinks. “sorry?”

satoru stands.

full height. bare chest. tiny sweatpants. bite marks YOU put on him.

“she’s busy,” satoru clarifies, stepping behind you and hooking one finger through your belt loop like a man claiming land. “with me.”

you almost combust on the spot.

suguru tries very hard to maintain dignity. “i just wanted to give her—”

“and now you’ve done that,” satoru interrupts, already starting to close the door. “thanks so much. deeply appreciated. goodbye.”

“satoru—” you whisper harshly.

he snaps the door shut with a soft click.

silence.

then he looks at you with the smuggest, most infuriatingly gorgeous expression you’ve ever seen.

“what?” he says innocently. “i was polite.”

“you were NOT polite.”

“i said thank you.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. “i hate you.”

he steps closer, fingers sliding under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. “mm, no you don’t.”

“i do. so much.”

he kisses you.

“you REALLY don’t.”

you shove him. he laughs, catches your wrist, pulls you back against him, and murmurs against your lips,

“so… round two?”

your breath catches.

“i hate you,” you whisper again.

he grins, kisses the corner of your mouth, and says,

“you’re gonna hate me way more in about ten minutes.”

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