lœy

Now, Shiu Kong must have known what he was walking into.

He must have-

Or at least one would think—hell, Shiu himself had assumed so and mentally prepared himself for about fifteen minutes outside the barn house before walking inside to tell the two of you to keep it down (those sensitive horse hybrids were complaining!) But he had never expected- fuck. This was all that damned Kusakabe’s fault.

It’d been about two months since Fushiguro Toji was added to his farmyard roster. Ever since his supposed ‘best friend’ had gone and dumped the proud bull hybrid on Shiu’s otherwise idyllic farm. It was meant to be temporary - just a few days watching over him until Kusakabe returned from a Hybrid Farms Convention in Tokyo. Meant to be…

But he was bigger than the rest. Broader. Gruffer. With pierced ears and the sleekest black coat on his lower half. 

So Toji had drawn gazes - one of which being from you, his most prized cow hybrid, specifically.

And Shiu couldn’t have that.

Especially not given the fact that you were the sweetest, softest thing…oh, alright you were his favorite. A part of him almost expected that having a prime bull hybrid around so many unmated cow hybrids would be nothing but trouble. But he just didn’t expect Toji to go after his favorite- anyone but you.

Thus he’d spared no expense keeping the two of you apart. 

Yet in the end it hadn’t mattered how many padlocks (twenty, at the last count) or planks that Shiu had fastened on Toji’s separate enclosure—because a padlock is only as good as it’s locked. And only three days into Toji’s stay, he’d forgotten to lock that damned thing before leaving the farm on an errand- was about halfway out of town by the time that he’d remembered. 

And turned that truck around in the middle of the highway.

Of course, by the time that Shiu actually arrived at the farm and thrown those barn house doors open - much like he had done tonight - the two of you were already tangled up n’ mated. With you humming delightedly into Toji’s neck—bite marks down every inch of it. The creamy scent of pheromones wafting out of the barn house and saturating the farmyard air.

And Toji himself hadn’t spared you an ounce of mercy.

As teeth marks were indented all along your supple skin; especially ‘round each areola of yours which Toji pinched. Letting milk flood out of Shiu’s beloved cow hybrid. Looking straight at him.

Fuck.

Shiu remembers it as clear as day.

Did he mention that he was rock-fucking-hard then? He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that…

Because it only makes him think about how hard he was right now, too. 

He was staring at a vision that was quite similar: Toji was ramming into you like there was no tomorrow- so fast that he’s only seeing the blur of his angry cock and the smack-smack-smacking of skin-on-skin. Except this time you were on all fours.

So Shiu was given the perfect view of your pretty tail swishing from side-to-side. Only growing more agitated as Toji grows faster.

The farmer watches as Toji’s hand wraps around your tail and drags you backwards- so disrespectful. A few more bite marks. A few more shakes of your pretty thighs - he gets the sense that you’d be collapsing onto the floor if Toji wasn’t helping hold you up. And once again Shiu’s struck by just how pliable you are underneath the other man.

“C’mon now-” Toji grunts. “Giddy up. Almost there.”

You’re shaking even harder. Your skin was glistening with sweat. Your eyes dazedly drift towards the other man - and he knows by that glint in your eyes- he knows it. 

He knows that you’re about to cum.

And you’re throwing your head back with what he assumes to be a moan announcing your crescendo—“Shi- oh.”

Oh.

Were you about to…?

Oh fucking-

And Shiu considers himself an intellectual man - he really does. He’s usually quick with his quips and isn’t the most inerudite of the rowdy bunch down at the bars; but this…this leaves his brain blue-screening and his mouth hanging stupidly open. Almost in a mirror of yours.

He can only stand and watch - cock throbbing in his denim overalls - as you’re tremblin’ all between Toji’s harsh thrusts. The way he fucks you is rude—as if the sound of the other man’s name on your lips almost spurs him on further.

He had to remind you who your mate was, after all.

You’re growing limp once your wave of bliss is completely bated. And it’s with a deafening slurp! that Toji himself finishes.

Polishin’ off what Shiu assumes to be your sweetest inside with his long, clingy ropes of cum- so much so that he’s seeing a ring of white start to formulate around Toji’s length. Lucky fucker. Shiu’s mouth goes dry as Toji pins your hips to the hay-littered ground and fucks and fucks his cum into you ruthlessly.

After a few prolonged minutes, he finally sets your waist free and lets your body droop onto the floor completely.

And between pants, Toji manages to whisper- “What the fuck?” Though his keen senses had already picked up on the fact that the farmer had intruded on your little…rut session, it’s only now that Toji’s finally turning.

The veins on his neck popping and prominent. Eyes greener than the brightest field - narrowed. It was as if he was finally seeing the farmer as more than simple amusement or some guy to poke ‘round with his horns sometimes - a challenge.

Was it just Shiu or were Toji’s horns looking extra sharp tonight? 

“And remember that.” Shiu speaks with courage that he did not have—to hell with not biting the hand that feeds. Shiu might’ve been the farmer but he was less than a pigsty in Toji’s eyes. Or so he felt. “Next time your pretty girl cums, she’ll be saying my name.”

Toji doesn’t even pull out of you before he snipes- “Next time you say shit like that, they’ll carry you out in a wheelbarrow.”

“And replace me?” Shiu snorts. “You think she’d milk for anyone else?”

“Pig-”

You, pointedly, kept your mouth shut to avoid saying anything more inflammatory.

And you best believe that he’s stepping back from those barn house doors as soon as he could - what was that he said about considering himself an intellectual man? He’s letting the doors slam behind him and waiting for a moment outside until he hears the two of you start it up again—those horse hybrids and their beauty sleep be damned.

With that said, Shiu takes a deep breath and heads back to his farmhouse.

The time was 12:28AM and he spends the next hour rubbin’ his cock raw to the memory of you almost moaning his name.

.

.

.

“…What did you just say to me?” And something must’ve shown in Shiu’s tone, because his friend groans from the other end of the line—‘oh, c’mon man-’

And never in his life has he let out a louder sigh. Pointed, too.

Because here Shiu was carrying on his early morning duties - ensuring herd checks and watering some of the trees, just going into the barn house to do some milking - when he gets a phone call—and from who else? Kusakabe Atsuya himself.

Now, Shiu has long since gotten used to dreading Kusakabe’s phone calls. The man’s his best friend, but a phone call from him was never bound to end well - he’s the entire reason he has a massive bull hybrid mated with you in the first place. So needless to say it didn’t start off on the right foot. But then the words left his mouth—

“-Tokyo Hybrid Farm Convention-”

And Shiu almost ended the call then and there. 

But Kusakabe must’ve had an inkling. Because he yelped out a few pleas- “Wait wait wait wait- please, I promise you’re going to want to hear this.”

And Shiu had no choice but to groan and comply. At least hear the man out. “Alright, but you better be quick. The cow hybrids need to be milked before noon.”

“Oh please- you and I both know that you’re just impatient to see your ‘pretty girl’, yeah?” Kusakabe hurries before his best friend loses his patience. “Anyways—hear me out- there’s a Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo-”

“I’m not-”

“And this time it’s for the hybrids.” Kusakabe cuts him off. Then basks in Shiu’s stunned silence for a few seconds, “And I know I ended up dumping Toji on you for a few days…and eventually…permanently, but let me make it up to you by getting him a new hoof-trimming chute. And maybe while I’m there I can even get him fitted for a new bull ring.”

Shiu rubs his chin in thoughtfulness. “I have been meaning to get him a larger one…”

“Then it’s settled.” Kusakabe says gleefully. “I’ll get you the ring and take Toji off your hands for a day.”

“Can’t it be a few days?” Shiu grumbles.

“No way, man. He’s all yours- consider me the babysitter.” 

“Whatever- better than nothing.” 

“So I’ll pick him up in an hour or two, yeah?” Kusakabe affirms, and from the other end of the line Shiu can hear some shuffling. A truck door slamming. “I’ll have him back to you around midnight.”

“Take your time.”

And with just a few more words shared, Shiu’s ending the call. He stands at the door to the barn house in a way far too reminiscent of the night before—and from here he can see you nuzzlin’ up to Toji for warmth as the early morning sunlight creeps into your hay-scattered abode. It really was a heartwarming sight, the two of you - if only Toji wasn’t glaring at him as if he wanted to trample over him.

However, this time, Shiu was the one with the upper hand. “Guess what, hotshot?” He goads at the bull hybrid, and it works to make his ol’ golden nose ring huff. “You’re going to be going on a little field trip today.”

Toji scoffs and rests his chin on your head.

“Oh no- I’m afraid this one’s going to be a bachelor’s trip.” The most wicked smile twitches at his lips. He watches Toji’s brows furrow and his front legs start to kick at the ground as if about to charge. “You’ll be going to the Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo with your old pal Kusakabe, isn’t that exciting?”

The look on Toji’s face was ‘most certainly not’.

“Then we can replace that old-fashioned ring of yours with a new one. Make that ugly mug a little more handsome, hm?”

“My ass is more handsome than you.”

“Real mature.” Shiu shakes his head as Toji flips him off and struts away outside—his midnight-black hair gleams under the morning sun, and the muscles of his upper half are almost Herculean. Shiu follows your gaze to the bull hybrid. 

With a fond chuckle, the farmer then walks over to you and runs his fingers across your scalp. Reaching that one spot he knew you loved so much- scratching behind your hybrid ears. “I don’t know how you put up with him, pretty girlie.”

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” You’re softly nuzzling into him.

Shiu shudders as he thinks back to last night. “Yeah, well I think I know him a little too- hey, are you feeling a little warm?”

“Hmmm?” Absent-mindedly you’re humming.

“I’m serious, girl.” Shiu’s brows furrow- and he’s taking his hand off of your scalp to feel the temperature on your forehead. “I think you’re a little warm.”

Eyes closed, you’re only pushing against him- yearning for his touch. And Shiu tries not to think about that too hard. “I was just in the sun, Shiu.”

“Yeah but…” Now that he thinks about it- you were particularly touchy today—almost needy. And he’s sure he wasn’t imagining the scent of soft sweet cream that lingered in the barn house today. Although that wouldn’t make sense - cow hybrids were prone to one heat cycle a month, for about a week give or take.

And you’d just finished your cycle two weeks ago…Shiu would know.

He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep those past few days. And as if that wasn’t bad enough- immediately after your heat, Toji’s rut had started up. 

The farmer turns his head and looks at the little homemade calendar hung up at the end of the barn. It contained all the dates of the hybrids’ heats and ruts and when he might expect them next—and not to brag, but it had a 97% accuracy rate. The 3% was when Toji wanted to piss him off and somehow manage to draw his rut out a little longer.

But according to that- you should be in the all-clear. He furrows his brows at the color-coded green zone. What can he say? Shiu Kong liked pretty things, okay?

Aforementioned Shiu Kong looks at you. “Maybe…hm, maybe it’s just a little fever, pretty girl. That brute must’ve worn you out.” You’re shyly bumping your shoulder into him, and he runs his hand across your body. “Now then I need you to get some rest, okay? Go sleep and I’ll bring over your breakfast- oh.” Just then, his hand dips up to the swell of your chest where your tits were. “And I’ll milk you tomorrow depending on how you’re feeling, does that sound good?”

Almost dazedly, you’re nodding with a smile. “Mmm s’good, Shiu.”

A thrill zips down his spine - he ignores it. “G-good. Go on now.” And right before he himself leaves the barn house, Shiu says. “And do try to convince Toji that it’d be good for him to get a new ring. The fool doesn’t realize the power he has in emptying Kusakabe’s pockets.”

Shiu gently closes the door to head back to his duties.

He flips Toji off behind his back.

.

.

.

At 12:21PM on the dot (Kusakabe said he’d be here half an hour ago) his best friend’s truck is parked in his vast farmland. And Shiu helps Toji into a hybrid trailer—he could have just gone in the passenger-side seat, but Shiu didn’t trust Toji one bit to not just open the door and jump out. Perhaps even outrun that truck at the first instance of missing you.

Honestly, he might just do the same with the trailer too…

But Shiu doesn’t tell Kusakabe this - instead he’s letting the man load his prized bull hybrid. And then clapping him on the shoulder, “Alright- he’s your problem now.”

“Just for today.” Kusakabe rolls his eyes. “A day longer and he might just drive the truck himself getting back to his mate.”

He whispers, “…I wouldn’t count on him not to do that today, either.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Shiu amends. Looking at the huffing n’ puffing Toji inside the trailer, arms crossed. “Just that he’s a romantic.”

“That he is.” Kusakabe tips his hat and waves himself off. “Alright- midnight, yeah?”

“Like I said- take your time.” He says, eagerly- perhaps a little too eagerly.

The other man gets into the truck and slams the door shut - the force causes that hunk of rusted metal to wobble and creak, like an old man’s laugh. Shiu gets the sense that the entire world seemed to be laughing at him at that moment—including his best friend. Was he really that obvious? 

Shiu walks up to Kusakabe’s window and leans against it. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“Oh- nothing.” Kusakabe has the audacity to wipe off a mirthful tear. “Just that it reminds me of back then. Bet you’re really happy to have some alone time with your pretty girl, huh?”

“You say that like it’s been ages since Toji’s been here.” Shiu scoffs. “She’s known me longer- probably still likes me better too. You know she only lets me-”

“-milk her.” Kusakabe interrupts. Amusement on his features at the familiar words, “Yeah yeah. You’ve said it once before, man. Or maybe twice. Thrice. Fifteen times-”

“Whatever, man.”

Shiu kicks off the side of Kusakabe’s truck and gives it a customary slap on the bonnet. 

“Drive safe. Even if you get stranded this time, I’m not coming to pick you up.”

“What a friend.” Kusakabe starts pulling the truck ahead and calls out as he goes. “Take care of the pretty girl when her mate’s not around~”

“You know I will.”

And as he watches the truck pull away with Toji inside the trailer—the bull hybrid lets out a mournful sound. It’s as Shiu feels a soft head rest against him that he realizes you’d joined him in the farewell; longingly watching your mate be hauled off. 

“It’s just for the convention, pretty girl.” Shiu mutters to you. He reaches to scratch behind your hybrid ears but- the faint heat radiating off you makes him pause. “Is…it just me or has your fever gotten worse?”

“Mmm, dunno.” You murmur thickly. You push deeper against his body and Shiu’s suddenly hit with a lingering scent of dairy and fresh flowers, presumably from last night.

“If this gets any worse then we might have to pay a visit to Dr. Shoko…”

Fervently, you’re shaking your head. 

Although you liked the cool and composed otter hybrid, Dr. Shoko, actually visiting the doctor was another thing. And so Shiu let it slide - for now - as he advised you to stay out of the sunlight and get some more rest—he’ll bring some cool drinks over after he’s done tending to the horse hybrids’ hair.

Shiu watches as you totter off into the barn house once more.

He’ll have to keep a close eye on you…

.

.

.

3:18PM

The farmdog hybrids were particularly energetic today - Shiu spent just about two hours straight neglecting his tractor maintenance to throw frisbees with them. Ah, to hell with that old thing. Maybe next time he’ll accompany Kusakabe to those Tokyo conventions and see if they have discounts on tractors. 

Although he knows he shouldn’t have been so careless - but you can’t blame a farmer for letting loose! Especially not when - usually - whenever he did this sort of thing—it’d only end up with Fushiguro Toji trampling all over the frisbee for the sake of it.

Especially not when it’s exactly what got him to notice the state of you in the first place.

Shiu had thrown the frisbee too far. It had landed somewhere by the pond, and Shiu didn’t want Ino getting his coat all muddied again- so he told the canine hybrid to stay put as he himself trudged through all the vegetation and too-soft earth. Ah…remind him to unweed this mess sometime soon. Spike rushes stuck to his boots, and water lilies waded towards him as the farmer determinedly made his way to the frisbee. 

Just bending down to get it when-

Letting out softly—“Oh.”

When Shiu spots your curled-up self on the side of the pond bank—all cocooned amongst the lush vegetation like a little treasure just for him. He tries to shake that thought out of his mind.

You startle awake once he steps on a twig attempting to get nearer to the frisbee- “Easy there.” His deep tone soothes you. “Easy. Easy. It’s just me.” You’re following the voice and settling down once you recognize him. “What’re you doing here, pretty girl?” 

“Just resting.” You respond. Now that you were sure there wasn’t any danger, you’re settling back down into your comfortable position. “The water helps keep me cool, y’know?”

“That pesky fever’s still bothering you?” Shiu reaches down to measure the temperature on your forehead - and sure as day, he’s feeling the heat simmering. If he wasn’t mistaken—it was just a tad hotter than what he remembered it to be when saying goodbye to Toji. “Hm…it doesn’t seem to be getting better on its own. How about a visit to Shoko’s?”

“Shiu…” You whine.

“Now now, missy.” He tuts. “I need you to be healthy- not only would Toji kill me otherwise, but I wouldn’t forgive myself either.”

“I’m feeling fine…really. It’s just a little hot.” You insist. “Today’s been really hot- I promise m’gonna feel better once the sun goes down.”

“Hmmm. Alright.” Though Shiu still didn’t seem all that convinced. “But you won’t cool off with water just by looking at it.” 

“What do you-”

But those words are getting stuffed back into your throat once Shiu takes a little run-up and throws himself into the pond. Creating a resounding splash! and sending a wave of water into the air—like translucent sun-glittered frogs that take a soaring leap and land on you. 

You’re yelping as the cool water lands on you- “Shiu—! You little-”

And then jumping in after him.

He throws his head back and lets out a deep, joyous laugh. And if he smelled the soft fragrance of honey suckle and fresh cream…then he imagines some of the other cow hybrids are ready for milking again.

.

.

.

6:21PM

Shiu wasn’t celebrating—honestly.

Even he wasn’t that tactless.

It’s just that it was a little quiet without Fushiguro Toji around to cause trouble with the other hybrids, or with any guests, or with Shiu…or with practically anyone that wasn’t you. He wondered whether you realized the sheer extent of his special treatment. Which was why he decided to spoil the lot of you - especially you - today.

And for this Shiu’s apples were amongst the most famed in these parts - he hears they went for thousands of yen each in Tokyo. Lush and luxurious. Like biting into a piece of heaven—he knew that the hybrids were particularly covetous of this rare luxury. And luckily for him, they’d just been harvested today. 

So why not give you lot a little treat?

Those stingy middle-men would be here to load up the apples tomorrow morning; so before that he herded his hybrids to the picturesque orchard. Where the apple trees embraced the groves from either side, the tops of their branches nearly winding into the sunset-painted clouds and pulled them back, and beneath them lay crates upon crates of apples like treasure pots at the ends of rainbows. Those apples seemed to gleam even brighter as the sun dipped beneath the horizon; gilded. 

And Shiu kept his hands on his hips, a proud smile on his face, as he watched over the hybrids picking apples and digging through crates. All except for…

“Where’s…”

Brows furrowed- Shiu turns around and spots you slumped against the wooden entrance to the orchard. Those towering pillars were intertwined with vines, and amongst them you looked like the prettiest rose. 

“Something wrong, my girl?” He walks towards you, handsome features pinched in concern. Immediately, Shiu’s hand goes up to feel your temperature once more. “Fuck-” And almost as soon as it makes contact with your forehead, he’s pulling away—

“Shiu…”

“You’re burning up- pretty girl, why didn’t you tell me that it’d become this bad?” He hisses. And then he’s reaching down to gently clasp your hand. Those caramel-brown eyes of his are just so soft…“C’mon- lets get you to Shoko’s before she’s off—”

Yet oh-so-stubbornly you’re shaking your head. “Promise m’okay, Shiu.”

“But-”

“It’s not a fever.” And the hairs on his body stand on end at those words. If not a fever, could this be…“I think it must be the heat or something- that and Toji did wear me out a little last night.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m sure. But I still think it would be good to go for a check-up.”

You’re averting your gaze from his. “I’m alright. Trust me.”

And though Shiu was clearly displeased by this turn of events—how could he ever say no to his favorite girl? It was almost embarrassing how easily he’s bending to your will- and letting out a sigh he attempts to make sound annoyed rather than fond. “Oh, alright…but at least try one of the apples. I’m sure they’d be good for you.”

“Of course-” Then you take a step - and the faint dizziness that’d accompanied your fever makes you nearly fall into Shiu’s chest. Thankfully the farmer catches you easily with his scarred palms darting to your waist, his broad arms wrapping around your body- and the tips of his fingers graze where your tail starts.

And both of your breaths hitch-

“Hey boss- can we dig into the pears too or are those off limits?” Ino’s blissfully oblivious tone shatters whatever strange atmosphere had seemed to concentrate between you two.

And you both jump backwards as if electrocuted.

“The uh- the what-” Shiu whirls around at the farm dog hybrid, “Not a chance. Don’t even think about touching those.”

“…Oops.”

“Those are ¥5000 a pear-” He pinches his nosebridge and groans- as his most trusted dog hybrid scampers off with an armful of pears. As he does so, Ino’s dropping one on the grass that Shiu’s bending down to pick up. Wiping off the non-existent dust on his denim overall, Shiu pulls a pocket knife out and cuts a clean slice of pear in mere seconds.

Calm and controlled.

Somehow, just seeing how competent he was with it made something at the pit of your stomach- twinge.

Before you know it, Shiu’s holding the tempting slice out to you. “Eat.” When you look at him in hesitation, he chuckles handsomely. “They’re about to raid the pears anyway, so you might as well eat.”

And so you do - he watches every minute expression of yours as you bite into it. That glimmer in your eyes. That smile.

Fuck…

Chomping on the luxurious fruit, you’re soon raising your nose into the air and sniffing.

Shiu raises a brow, “Something wrong? It’s not rotten, is it?”

You shake your head and continue sniffing. “No, it’s just…” Your ears twitch towards him- and he finds it so cute how they move almost all on their own. “Something smells good.”

“The pear?” 

“No.” Shaking your head once more—the way you look at him then is just…different. “Like apples. And caramel. And honeysuckle.”

Shiu scratches behind his neck. “Well, I don’t know about the caramel- but we are in an apple orchard.” Gesturing at the sprawling land. “Help yourself.”

You smile and rub yourself against him lightly, soon joining your friends.

This was proving to be quite the strange day- fuck, were you getting hotter?

.

.

.

11:59PM

“I should have taken you to Shoko’s in the morning—”

This is all Shiu’s fault.

This is all Shiu’s fault.

But to understand just how badly he’d messed up, one would have to rewind the clock to about two minutes and twenty seconds ago; it’d been a long day at the farm. Exhaustibly so. Even more so than usual, Shiu was dead-tired—it was practically subconscious the way in which he’d scrubbed himself clean and slipped into his favorite pair of pajamas (the ones with the cows and barns on them). 

And he’d just - just - sat himself down on the creaky sofa in front of the TV, to get in at least five minutes of his favorite cheesy soap operas before he zonked out before it…when the front door started rattling.

Wait…rattling?

Knocking.

Shiu sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he heaved himself to a stand- “Yeah, yeah m’coming…don’t break the damn door down.” He’d at least expected Kusakabe to give him a call before he returned and started trying to leave him doorless- but ah. 

Shiu was grumbling a few choice words underneath his breath as he swung the front door and screen open. Only to be met with—

“Pretty girl?” In split-seconds, every ounce of sleepiness leaves Shiu as he darts to hold your faintish body. Your head was drooped, and your breaths were coming out rapid. You were supported by only some of the other cow hybrids. Immediately his hand is flying to your waist, and he’s throwing one of your arms around his shoulders- before giving up on any inhibitions and pulling you into a proper princess carry.

A worried Ino and the others trailed after. “The cow hybrids let me know that there was something wrong, boss. So I brought her here.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Shiu just barely has the thought to murmur. He hurries to sprawl you out across where you would be most comfortable: his bed. “We need to contact Dr. Shoko immediately.”

“It’s not her time of heat yet, right?” Ino asks from the doorway. Behind him were some of the other members of the barn house looking in concern.

“No.” Shiu shakes his head. He glances up and sees the commotion- “It might be a fever, or maybe it was too hot out? I don’t know—fuck, I should’ve just taken her in the morning when she first told me.”

“Should I get the truck ready now, boss?”

“Sure. But I don’t want to move her much right now- poor thing.” Shiu looks on sadly at the way you’re gripping his soft pillows and smushing them to your face—breathing them in. “I’ll call Shoko and see if there’s anything we can do from here-” Reaching over to his bedside cabinet and picking up the phone, “You guys get some sleep, and I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“You’ve got it.” Ino nods- and then he’s herding the rest of the barn outside. 

In this little bubble of his bedroom, this little nook of the farm which smelled like fresh cream and honeysuckle, and had the air of sluggish mornings that made one’s eyes droop; it was just you and Shiu and the ringing tone of Shoko’s clinic.

Ringing once.

Ringing twice.

It cuts and Shiu’s trying Shoko’s personal number this time. She picks up almost instantly- “Hello?”

“I’m not going to ask about the integrity of your sleep schedule, but I need your help-”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

And as Shiu lists off your symptoms - the clamminess, the rapid heartbeat, the puffs of pheromones now filling up his bedroom, and more importantly…the wetness between your thighs (he wasn’t a lecher- he promises, it just-so-happened that Dr. Shoko had asked him to double check as part of your symptoms) - he himself starts to get an understanding of your diagnosis. You were in heat. But-

“But wasn’t her heat just two weeks ago?” There’s a shuffling of papers on the other end of the line as Shiu realizes Shoko must’ve gone through your file at home. “And she isn’t known for having any irregular heats.”

“Could this possibly be triggered by something external?” Shiu asks.

“It is possible.” She answers. “Have there been any changes to her environment? Something that may trigger a stress response in her?”

“Well, just today I had Toji go out with my friend to a convention- could it possibly be the distance?” He suddenly feels a drop of guilt at possibly being connected to why you feel this way.

“Hmm, I don’t believe so. Mating bonds are of the nature to be most volatile in close distances, rather than when they’re apart.” She hums thoughtfully. “You said that her mate was away today, right? And this started just today? Have there been any…other changes?”

Shiu raises a brow. “Other?”

And he can’t see her, but he gets the feeling that had they been in her office- then Shoko would have her fingers crossed and a grave expression on her face. “Yes. Has she been close with any other hybrid on the farm? Perhaps nuzzling up to them? Perhaps giving off her scent?”

The tips of Shiu’s fingers, clutching the phone, feel utterly numb. “…Yes.” Him.

“Well then. I believe the matter is quite simple, Mr. Shiu.” Tell him. “It is a strange phenomenon in which the hybrid seems to have two mates.”

“…” He can’t quite seem to close his mouth. “What?”

“Precisely.” Shoko speaks as if merely commenting on the nice weather or a particularly good football goal.

“B-but—” Shiu clutches the phone and tries to keep his volume from rising so as not to awaken you - you’d fallen asleep wrapped in his sheets now. Nose stuffed into the fabrics coated with his natural musk. “I thought hybrids mated for life? With only one-”

“Most often, yes. But there are rare cases in which a hybrid might find themselves connected to two others, or even three. Sometimes these connections may be latent and only make themselves known when triggered by a heat or time apart from her original mate.” His jaw just keeps dropping. “And it seems that in your cow hybrid’s case, in the absence of one mate she found her second mate’s connection activated. This is likely what caused her to go into heat.”

“So it’s official-” He begs. “She’s in heat now-”

“Yes, and I suggest you just let her do what needs to be done with her second mate in order to get it out of her system, otherwise she may feel rejected.”

And it seems that the conversation was coming to a close- for there was a note of epiphany in her words. But before Shoko could end the call, he questions once more. “And about the…double mate thing- does that also mean that the second mate is mated to the original mate?”

There’s a pause.

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Mr. Shiu.”

Wait how did she—

And then she ends the call.

Shiu holds numbly onto the phone for a few seconds - the silence felt deafening. Before a sudden stirring makes him dart his eyes over towards you. 

Like an angel.

Your face was half-pushed into one of Shiu’s pillows - also patterned with cows and barns - and that blanket of his had twisted ‘round your body like a snake now—clammy with your sweat. Your fingers were clawing at the old creaky mattress, and your knees were pushing higher, and between them were- oh.

Were another one of his pillows.

And fuck- he’s never felt more jealous of an inanimate object in his entire life.

You were reeling your hips back—thrusting them forwards again- grinding down on the pillow. Wetness was seeping between those pretty, shiverin’ legs of yours and staining the cover. From here he could see a dark splotch starting to stain the silken fabric - smelling like the sweetest honey scent.

And it makes his mouth water.

“Baby- baby…” Shiu lovingly pats your leg, dawning you completely awake. He could see now that you were in the throes of your heat - but those eyes of yours were completely alert. “I need you to get comfortable, okay? This is gonna last about a week.”

“I’m in heat?” You blink. “Dr. Shoko said you’re my mate, Shiu.”

“So you heard that, huh?” He lightly chuckles. “Just know that we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. Heats don’t necessarily affect humans-”

“Then why’re you so hard?” Though that tone of yours was utterly innocent - the look in your eyes wasn’t. You knew what you were doing to him—and you’re only hiking up the temperature between the two of you as you’re leaning in. 

On wobbly arms, you’re pushing yourself up n’ leaning in so close-

Oh, how he’s dreamed of this exact scenario so many nights before. In this very bed. With his hand wrapped around his cock.

And Shiu knows he’s talking out of his ass - it’s the inhibitions taking over now…“You’ve got me there- but what about Toji-”

“Isn’t he your mate, too?”

And then your lips are on his.

.

.

.

Fushiguro Toji feels a disturbance in the force.

He can’t quite explain it- it’s nothing that he’s seen or even something that he’s felt. Nothing tangible to give reason to this madness. It’s just that something was…off. Kusakabe notices the hybrid squirming in his seat - yes, it seems that he trusted the bull hybrid enough to let him ride shotgun - and turns on the radio.

Just Toji’s luck, it was Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra.

“Turn it off.” Toji scoffs and crosses his arms.

“Why? Remind you of a certain someone~?” Kusakabe asks in-between singing at the top of his lungs.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

And even though Toji is merely looking at the smaller man- he shrinks into his seat. Did he mention he’d sharpened his horns for today? Kusakabe whimper, “O-oh nothing…nothing, just that ah- the lyrics might be a little reminiscent of ah-”

And Toji was even more infuriated because of that nagging sensation- that strange…fuck. “Spit it out.”

Kusakabe lets out a squeal and looks as though he utterly regretted letting the hybrid sit next to him. “J-just the fact that Shiu mayormaynothaveacrushonyourmate—” It’s out before Toji could even register it. “Pleasedon’tkillme-”

“If I kill you who’s driving?” Toji had now unbuckled his seatbelt despite Kusakabe’s protests. Snooping around the truck and trying to trace that little- scent? “What is that infernal- fuck. And I already know that farmer’s got a thing for her - though I’d pay for him to actually try. Would love to see his face as she rejects him.”

“Really? Because she was looking all cute and cuddly and a little feverish this morning.”

“What.”

And then it hits him—that scent. Fresh cream and sunny days and honey-

You were in heat.

“Fucker, step on it.”

Kusakabe whirls towards him. “What-” But before he can finish, Toji’s grabbing onto the steering wheel and damn-near crashing them on the highway as he speeds ahead.

The radio trills: ‘I can’t believe he’s so trustin’.

While I’m right behind you thrusting.’

.

.

.

“Mmm—” Shiu’s lips are hot and persistent- letting off the most sensual mwahs! as he continues the pattern down the side of your neck.

Listen, Shiu Kong might not be a hybrid like you, but if he kept his nose pressed against your sultry skin then he could almost feel it—those pheromones. 

It was wafting off your skin like an atmosphere that was entirely your own, a gravitational pull constantly tugging him closer; the sweetened scent of honey and freshly-whipped cream. It made him blush. It went straight down to his cock.

Fuck that- it was taking over him.

A guttural groan rips out of Shiu’s chest- he kisses a pathway down the middle of your body until he’s reaching your core. Once he does, he gives the hottest wettest kiss of all to your cunt—“Oh, baby. Lean back a bit f’me, yeah?”

And then he’s pressing an open palm on top of your stomach. Pressing you to recline on the bed.

“Good girl.” Shiu rumbles. Low. “Now squeeze those pretty legs around my head- yeah, just like that. Tighter.”

“Tighter than that n’ you’ll suffocate.” You gasp.

“What about it?”

Using his own strong arms - so fucking beefy from years of work at the farm - Shiu wraps your thighs around his sweaty head. His sharp, straight hair tickles your inner thighs; so much so that the farmer has to tell you to settle down. “Easy there- eeeeasy there, girlie. I’ll make you feel good during your heat.”

“I’m not a damn horse.” You huff.

“Yeah, because you’re gonna be the one riding, huh?”

The gasp that flutters its way up to your throat doesn’t get the chance to escape- because the question on Shiu’s tongue curls around your cunt. He’s letting the squashy end of his tongue dip between your swollen pussylips—giving you a loooong lick where you were most tender. Those cushiony tastebuds of his were massaging you already- and the way he’s twisting his tongue so deliciously as he enters—

“Oh.” You’re arching off the mattress, thighs plastering to the side of his face. And yet your pussy’s openin’ up for him so invitingly. “Keep going, Shiu…”

“Had no plans of stopping soon.” Gurgling wetly between your legs.

His tongue was just so soft and smooth.

The way he’s adjusting it in and out makes your mouth just water. In and out. In and out. Shiu notices that every time he hooked his tongue around the outer rim of your entrance made your pheromones surge. Fuck—that heat of yours was affecting him, too, and leaving him sippin’ on your pussy like an aphrodisiac.

Lavish lips plastering aaaaall over again and again- “Mmmm, my pretty cow hybrid. No idea how I lasted this long without this.” Breathing through his nose - he didn’t want to waste a single second of this. His usually-deep timbre shakes with pleading desire. “And what can this do?”

You’re squealing once you feel thick fingers curl around your tail. “That’s my tail…”

“I already know that, pretty girl.” Shiu shakes his head fondly - as though you’d been the one to say something ridiculous. And in-between lapping away at your leaking pussy, he tugs softly on your tail in order to bring you closer. “But what can it do-”

“Well she likes getting it pulled during doggy position.” 

Both of you would have recognized that voice amongst a thousand bull hybrids - ten thousand. That stature. That scent of freshly-cut grass and something deeper…something more alluring.

“And sometimes if you bite it she starts clenching like crazy.” 

Fuck.

Because neither of you had heard the door click open - except maybe in what felt like a distant dream. Something worlds away.

You’re feeling a sense of déjà vu. 

Shiu’s feeling cold sweat breaking out as he realizes that he hadn’t actually locked the door. In fact. 

Whoever had opened it must be gripping it so hard that its oak frame was starting to splinter-

Both of you experience a pang at the pit of your stomach- a draw. And Shiu gapes as he looks down at himself—what the fuck was that…? He’s looking up at Fushiguro Toji standing in the doorframe with the same shocked expression.

“The hell do you think you’re doing with my girl?” Toji spits, scarred lips twisted.

“Listen, man-”

“You’re not going to make her cum eating her out like that.”

“I…what?”

Toji manages to make Shiu shut up. This must surely be a dream? And it’s just about enough time for the other man to cross the distance between the door and the bed - kicking it shut behind him - and make himself quite at home on the bed. The mattress creaks under the weight of the hybrid; and you yourself are letting out a soft moan. 

He sits beside where you were sprawled-out, facing Shiu.

“You see…my pretty girl here-”

Shiu mutters underneath this breath. “Fuckin’ stealing my pet name too, now?”

But Toji has the courtesy to ignore it - for now. “-has a certain set of rules she needs to follow.” 

At this, the other man’s brows raise in interest. Satisfied at the attention; Toji himself traces his dominant right hand over your stomach, your hips, before lowering down to your cunt and holding those puffy pussylips of yours open. Pushing them apart. Pryin’ them apart. 

Both men gulp at the way you’re clenching around nothing.

“See…she might look all innocent and sweet- but she’s a proper little slut.” The words almost make Shiu flinch - and the bull hybrid takes great care repeating them. “Your…pretty girl is a proper- little- slut. And I know that she likes being fucked like one.”

And before either of you can make a move - Toji’s swiftly craning his head down and spitting a great glob of saliva on your cunt.

It trickles over your exterior and smears along your inner thighs- and Toji takes his sweet, sweet relish in swipin’ off some of that excess and popping it into his mouth. “So?” Toji asks. “Eat her out.”

Eat…Toji’s own mate out? Like this?

“What?” Toji has the audacity to look shocked. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing her- don’t act like you haven’t been fantasizing it. You’ve wanted her even before I arrived at this damn farm.”

Shiu’s lips tremble- he almost wants to because hell, he’s been given the permission now. And yet…“Is this some sort of trick? You’re not gonna use those horns on me afterward, are you?”

“No, not at all.” The other man replies - almost too breezily. He raises his brows at Shiu expectantly. And stares deep into Shiu’s eyes as he says. “So? The fuck are you waiting for-”

Those mere words make Shiu’s cock stand painfully erect.

However, there’s a reason they claimed that Fushiguro Toji was a ruthless man. 

Because humans always did move far too slowly for the bull hybrid’s liking. And he wastes not a second more before pawin’ at the back of Shiu’s sweaty scalp - taking just a moment to bask in the utter shock upon his features - and shoving—

Straight between your pretty, pretty thighs.

Which he honestly didn’t have to do because—well fuck, you didn’t have to ask Shiu twice to eat you out. Shiu lets out a strangled grunt that turns into a moan. 

And without further ado, he’s back latched onto your pussy- those handsome cheeks of his hollowing out as he sucks n’ sucks. And you don’t know whether he was doing this for you or himself. 

Shiu ate you out like he was going to die of thirst if he didn’t.

“Fuck-” He hisses. With every movement of his face, he nuzzles himself closer. “Fuck fuck fuck—more.”

Syrupy breath sticking against your pussylips. 

And his tongue was even worse-

“My pretty girl. More.”

He’s slithering it aaaaaaaall along your outer cunt - lapping up every wad of slick you were gifting him - and then rubbing his textured tastebuds along your exterior when it just wasn’t enough. Because your cunt was practically an aphrodisiac for him.

It’s as if the heat was contagious.

Because the longer he’s spending between those gorgeous legs of yours - the more he’s blabbering like a damn fool. The murkier his eyes are growing. The harder and harder his hips are coming crashing—! down on the rickety wooden frame of the bed—pathetically dry-humping it in time with the thrashes of his tongue. Slipping right between your velvety folds and yearnin’ to taste the honey between.

That thick silkiness of his tongue was just dizzying.

He was cleaning up the mess that Toji’d made earlier—tasting him, tasting you. Shiu’s face grows warm as he remembers.

That dextrous tip of his tongue delves between your pussylips - entering that cute hole - and is lapping up everything you’re giving him. “Babydoll, fuck my mouth even deeper.” Needing more. “Even deeper.”

“F-fuck- shit, shit shit.” You’re trilling out. “You’re practically nose-deep. How can you possibly go any deeper?”

With a needy whimper, you’re letting your hybrid tail swish towards him - and without further ado Shiu takes it and wraps his fist around it. Giving a gentle tug. Fuck.

And when he actually discovers that he’s able to manhandle you further onto his mouth with that tail of yours- nothing’s stopping Shiu from increasing his strength to give you a mean haul. “Mmm- yes- oh, Shiu. It feels so good, Shiu—!”

“But not good enough, right?” Toji speaks over you, in a haughty tone.

Your hybrid ears twitch in confusion.

And before you know it, you’re feeling the sensation of Shiu’s slithering tongue disappear. 

You whine out in disappointment. And you already know that that mate of yours must have something to do with it-

Sure as day; Toji has his fist gripping Shiu’s jet-black hair and reeling him back. The other man obviously had his face twisted into something ferocious, and the tension made the atmosphere pinch. But underneath that…there was an undercurrent of sweetness…the mottling of Toji’s gleeful pheromones mixing with his lustful ones.

And Shiu’s, too.

And if you weren’t mistaken- was that a faint blush on the tips of his ears?

It seems that Toji notices, too. “See anything to blush about here?” Then his eyes dip down to you. “Oh…right. Heh.” Leaning in oh-so-closely to the other man; Toji whispers in a gravelly tone into his ear. “But if you stand around blushing and bein’ a wuss for too long, then just know that she’s not gonna wait. She’s gonna dry up~”

He spits once more.

So disrespectful.

And then turns down to Shiu and warns. “Don’t eat her out just yet. Rule number one…” Your heartbeat races as he speaks those familiar words - Fushiguro Toji never was one to care for rules…unless it was in bed. “No running.”

“I’d never run from this pussy.” Shiu frowns.

“Not you, nitwit.” Mercilessly, he’s planting a smack at the back of the farmer’s head. “Her. Don’t let her run.”

Seemingly getting the green light to start up his sensual ministrations again- Shiu slowly starts lapping between your pussylips once more. Proddin’ his thickened tip into the deep orifice of your cunt. “B-but she’s not-”

“Look.” Toji interrupts. Just as you were starting to buck and lift your hips off the sodden mattress. “Look at the way she’s moving ‘round.”

“But that’s just-”

“But this pretty cow hybrid is in heat—and you can’t just leave her uncomfortable like this, can you?” Those dazed eyes of Shiu Kong’s open wider. He faintly nods. “So aren’t you the farmer?”

He nods again - looking as though he was about to faint.

“So herd your damn cow hybrids- c’mon- don’t let her run—” Spurred on even further by his words, Shiu’s plunging back in-between your legs and usin’ his tongue for his life.

Opening his mouth wiiiiiide to make sure that he’s able to reach every nook and cranny—the end of his tongue was just so dexterous and somehow managing to slip into spots you hadn’t even known you had. “O-ohhhh, fuuuuck-” Moans just keep bubbling out of your lips. “It feels so good, Shiu-”

And just when it looked as if you were about to buck—Shiu grabs ahold of your hips- so hard that he leaves neat semi-crescent nail marks on your skin. Plopping you back down onto the bed.

Plopping you back down onto his face.

From then onwards, he doesn’t let you move a single inch as he’s thrashin’ away his fat tongue inside your cunt. Stretching that pussy out to his textured tastebuds. 

And Toji had been watching the entire display closely…very closely. With his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. “Good.” His head threatens to tip backwards as he gives a harsh tug on his thickened length. “And now rule number two: squeeze those gorgeous legs around your head. Doesn’t matter if you suffocate.”

“That- that’s what I said—” Shiu keens.

“Then why’re you speaking?”

Goosebumps run down Shiu’s arched spine. “Oh…”

“A cunt like hers isn’t to be taken for granted.” Toji tuts from above you, and you can’t help but ogle the way his biceps bulge as he pushes down Shiu’s head. “Deeper.” Harder. “Deeper. Don’t waste time talking. Don’t waste time gawking like an idiot. In fact-”

His heated words make goosebumps scatter across your open thighs.

And you whimper-

“-don’t even breathe.”

They’re both driving you absolutely mad—

Toji catches your left ear between his fingers- as it’s been swatting furiously away the more aroused you grew. So soft beneath his touch.

He uses it to urge your mouth down to where his lap was.

“Rule number three…let her fuck back into you- but only if she really…really deserves it.”

“Make the pretty girl work for it?” Shiu looks up.

Toji displays a priggish smirk. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

And you don’t know what sort of expression Shiu might have on his handsome face right now - he was much too…preoccupied for that - but you can sense him nod. Short and sharp. As he keeps on lavishin’ your insides with his tongue; the farmer makes note of just how hard you’re clenching around him. “C’mon, pretty girl—” He pushes down your bucking hips. “Clench a little harder ‘round my tongue, would ya?”

“O-oh, now you’re just mean.”

“It’s what you deserve.” Toji chuckles. “Don’t think I can’t smell your pheromones gettin’ even sweeter- you’re loving this.”

You have no counter accusation - it was, after all, painfully true. And then Toji caresses your sweaty scalp with his thick digits—grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. “Now…lets see if you can be a good girl for me, too.”

An acrid sort of sweetness floods your mouth - because in mere sultry moments Toji has his legs positioned so that they’re practically straddling your face. On the mattress; he’s kneeling to the side of your head and letting his pursed, pinkened cocktip swab across your lips.

He’s rock-hard.

Instantly your jaw’s falling open to accommodate him.

And believe- that there was a lot to be accommodating. For Toji was so many countless inches, thick and decorated in a prominent network of veins across every inch of him. They zigzagged across each of his angles n’ ended up being the most prominent where your sweet spots were—Toji meant it when he said he was made for you.

He had a scruff of jet-black happy trail. He was an angry red at his tip. He was dripping precum.

It puckered out from the divot on top of his shaft—then ended up smeeeeared down the insides of your soft mouth. “Fuuuuck…” Toji himself whispers as he eases in. The bedsprings purr as Shiu bucks against the bed harder.

And before you know it, he’s reaching upwards and biting down on your throbbing clit. “Don’t forget about me, pretty girl. You’re not getting off easy. Rule number three, remember?”

“I—oh.” Shiu’s putting his fingers in now - fingers. Two of them. Long and perfectly calloused from years of hard labor to now massage your tender insides.

Both men are manhandling you oh-so-perfectly: Shiu dragging you down by your tail- and Toji using both hands to maneuver your head down. Letting you take up numerous inches of him. Thick and throbbing.

That rounded end of his shaft hits the back of your throat and you’re immediately coughing-

“Easy there.” Toji lovingly croons…“Not.” And you didn’t expect mercy, did you? Soon enough both of them are running their bodies ragged trying to draw out the most reactions from you—Toji fucking his cock into your suckling mouth, and Shiu hooking a finger not against the roof of your cunt to press on your nerve-filled spots- to make you clench. “C’mon- milk me. You can do better.”

“C’mon, little cow hybrid.” Shiu titters. His digits prove so effective in stretchin’ out your insides even more so than his tongue—and those tastebuds of his remain tickling your clit. “Won’t you squeeze me a little harder?”

“She can’t answer.” Toji laughs. “Got her mouth a little full.”

“Bull got her tongue.”

“Mmmm…” With that said, Toji’s flooding your tastebuds with a thick lacquer of his precum. He increases his pace a little more.

“Just a little harder-” Meanwhilst, Shiu whispers to himself as he keeps probing your sweet, sweet insides. “Just a little- a little—” And at precisely that moment; he’s hitting the bullseye. What else but the place marked X: your g-spot? “O-oh.” 

He damn near cums in his pants.

“Just like that.” Shiu continues. “Fuck back into my fingers. I know you can, girlie.”

“Accomplished rule number three already?” Toji asks the other man. “Yer nicer than me- I know that for sure.”

“What can I say? She’s my favorite.”

After a few more thrusts n’ bucks n’ smashes at your favorite spot - you don’t think you can even formulate a coherent thought. You’re being tugged back and forth by both men—and they aren’t showing any signs of slowing down soon enough. “The fourth and fifth rules are a little alike…” Toji rumbles from above you. “The fourth, of course, is to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Shiu asks. Though by the way he feels the heat in the room - your pheromones - flare up, he’s sure you’re anticipating whatever it is.

“And the fifth is to…” The end of that sentence teeters on the edge of Toji’s tongue as he reels his hips back, back, back, baaaaack- “-take it all like a good girl.” 

And that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Letting the entire length of Toji’s cock fill your mouth from tip to base- his fleshy cockhead searches your insides like a flashlight. It’s almost too pornographic the way you’re choking on his length—gagging, eyes watering. 

To which of course, your beloved mate reaches down to pinch your nostrils closed. “Now now…are you the one in heat or am I?”

“Mmmpf- mmm—” You keen. Moans bubbling from the back of your throat but having no way out.

“Oi- I think she’s close.” Shiu breathes.

He could taste it in the sweet treacly syrup leaking out of you - his favorite. He could taste it in the way your cunt walls were pounding faster than ever. He could fucking smell it in those pheromones of yours that just seemed to flare to life-

“S’that so?” Toji asks. “And that brings me to our sixth and final rule: if she wants something, then she can use her words to ask for it.”

“Hardass.” Shiu scoffs.

But they’re both increasing their pace. For competition or simply to drive you mad?

The sloppiest squelches and pops! fill the room—and Shiu watches as your tail starts twitching agitatedly once the pleasure almost gets too much. Oh his pretty cow hybrid. Once you’re so close that you feel like you could burst- “Toji, she’s close—”

“Then ask for it.” Toji keeps shovelling his cock deeper. Deeper. “Fucking ask for it, doll.”

“Toji-”

Slamming into your throat with a final thwack! His balls were damn near leaving an imprint on your chin. “You can ask the farmer to help you with your heat- but you can’t ask me to make you cum…?”

“She did.”

The tension in the room falters - but never bates - as Toji turns to look at the other man. “What?”

“She did-” Shiu hastens to explain. “Ask to cum, that is…” And as if to prove his point—he’s plummeting a few more pushes with his fingers, scissoring them inside you so that those slurping suctioning noises are extra loud. “-right here.”

Toji waits for a beat.

Before he lets out a little snicker.

Before he lets out an entire laugh-

“Maybe you’re not so bad- for you, that is.” And then he’s boring his forest fire gaze down at you. “Hear that? Yer damn lucky that you’re the farmer’s favorite—hah, better thank him.” Toji’s then tugging your ear to watch you squirm just a little.

He lets out a final few thrusts.

And waits until his cock was embedded deeeep into the back of your throat - and your nose was pressed against those tufts of black at his base. Until you were well and fully stuffed full of him. 

“So cum then, my pretty mate.”

And with a few more thorough slashes inside you—knockin’ Shiu’s burly fingers into your sweetest spots, slithering Toji’s length down every crevice of your mouth, you’re crashing into your high. 

It’s quick and searing.

It takes over your body faster than you can register. Burning through every other thought and feeling - you’re letting out erotic moans around Toji’s cock, and they keep getting louder as it keeps prolonging. Longer and longer. The more they’re toyin’ with your throbbing, sopping cunt. 

Those fervent peaks seem to get stronger - and within you feels practically white-hot in sensation. Pulling off of his bulbous tip. “Sh-shiiiiiit—” Keening out. “It feels so good- it feels so good-”

“You’re welcome.” Toji says. Shovelling his pinkish tip back between those lips.

At the same time that Shiu’s panting. “Anything for you, pretty girl.”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

Of course, as your mates they’re practically bound to listen to your every syllable.

And you don’t feel them rest - even take a breath - until your orgasm was well and almost completely disappeared from the horizon.

Tears of overstimulation were now springing to your eyes. Thighs twitching with the faintest splinters of sensitivity. “F-fuck…” Toji’s throbbing tip falls from your lips. It leaves a thin ribbon of slick connecting you to him still. You’re blabbering. “Fuck, I’m getting sensitive now.”

“Hm…Shiu climb up.” Toji says.

Both you and Shiu share a glance—and with something that looked like a half-shrug, Shiu’s attempting to heave himself up from the floor-

Only to be grabbed by Toji by the hand and yanked onto bed.

The farmer’s letting out a little yelp as he’s finding himself bounced onto the springy mattress - right on your other side. Sandwiched between the two buff, broad men- you don’t think you’ve ever felt your heart beat faster…ever smelled your pheromones so potently…

“Shiu, I need those off.” You huff. Batting those teary lashes of yours.

“Oh.” His face twists into something like ecstacy - how many times has he fantasized about those very words leaving your mouth?

And, flustered, the farmer starts unbuckling his overall one-by-one-

“We’re not trying to wait until her heat’s over.” Toji gruffs. And his veined forearm reaches across you - grasping onto the front of Shiu’s overall and giving it a good tug.

Those buckles are breaking free immediately. 

The bull hybrid smiles to himself proudly. “There.”

“I should have half the mind to return you to Kusakabe…” Shiu grumbles to himself, as he takes off the rest of his clothes. That sentence makes the faintest flicker of recognition light up in his brain - really, where was Kusakabe - but it’s evaporating soon enough once you start helping him take his boxers off. 

“I’m warning you in advance, however…” He starts.

“Why?”

“Yeah- are you hiding a 21-incher in there or something?” Toji scoffs.

“No no- it’s not that. I’m…above average- probably.” Shiu waves off, his burning blush creeping up onto his face again. “It’s just that I might have made…a little mess when I was eating you out.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by- oh.”

Oh, was right. Right indeed.

Because of course- Shiu was naturally an impressive size. About eight inches. With a much more tan tip than Toji’s - and perhaps even thicker, too - and a girth that made your mouth water. He was smoother than Toji—less veins ‘round his shaft except for a single prominent one that went around the left side. And he was curved ever-so-slightly upright, too. 

But what really caught your attention was…Shiu had cum in his pants.

Just from eating you out.

“Oh…” Your eyes widen as you take in the dark splotch at the front of his boxers. 

Thick ropey white cum had seeped into it- and Shiu’s hastily snatching those boxers out of your hands to throw them over his shoulder. His hands felt sticky. “But that’s neither here nor there-”

“Of course it is.” Toji says after a moment of contemplation. “I’m adding a seventh rule.” 

Yours and Shiu’s eyes pop open. 

“Shit.”

“Shit-”

“What?” The bull hybrid looks at you both in mock innocence. “I was just going to say that the guest goes first…”

It’s…unexpected. To say the least. But you weren’t complaining - and by the way that Shiu’s reddened length perks up at the idea, you don’t think he is either.

“Um, so how do I…”

Toji angles himself towards you- “Get up a little, doll?”

You arch your hips off the bed; and Toji’s taking the opportunity to sidle his own hips underneath them. He’s manhandling you so that you’re simply sprawled-out on his chiselled front—and oh, how your mouth waters at the sensation of his rippling pecs and abs. The way they’re massaging you from behind at even the slightest movements—was that his v-line? 

And did you mention that Toji just-so-happened to have the cutest ringed piercings through each nipple?

They’re pushing into you from behind once the hybrid hooks both hands underneath each of your legs. And he’s lifting them aaaaaaaall the way up until your knees hit your tits. Spreading you wide, wide open.

A full nelson.

Except…this time, it’s Shiu’s who’s going to be basking between your legs. 

The aforementioned man takes a courageous gulp as he shuffles on his knees between your legs - and Toji’s - to lovingly gaze at you. “Fuuuuuck, my pretty girl…you really are so gorgeous.” Shiu whispers- underneath his breath as though he didn’t even mean for you to hear.

His darkened eyes sweep down your body like a caress. “The way that pussy’s dripping so much- shit, s’like a flood down there. Can you even feel yourself?” You’re squirming at his lecherous words. “And those legs. Trembling. And the way you’re just throbbing- I can see it from here.”

You’re gasping as he presses his hot length down on your cunt. 

Sandwiched between each of your pussylips: Shiu doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight. “You’re just so dirty, girlie~”

You shudder.

And Shiu could have kept going- it absolutely killed him to tear his gaze off of you. It really did.

But Shiu could sense Toji starting to get impatient if the slightly souring tint in his pheromones was anything to go by- hey, look at that…he’s reading pheromones now. Mentalling patting himself on the back; the farmer starts slide-slide-sliiiiiding his fattened-up cock between your precious folds. “Easy there, girl?”

“Yeah yeah- we’re easy.” Rolling his eyes, you’re getting jostled as the hybrid underneath bucks. And at this point, you’re honestly wondering which one of you was more excited for his entrance…“Just get on with it.”

“Unlike you, Toji, I don’t just- get on with it.” Shiu sounded offended at the mere suggestion. 

And as you both look towards him for further clarification, Shiu nervously bites down on the inside of his cheek and pushes his swollen cock down the slit of your cunt. “It’s just that…” He lets his particularly large tip kiss your hole. “-what if I end up hurting my pretty girl during her heat? I’d never forgive myself.”

“How cute.” Toji snickers. But there’s something that you recognize there—appreciation? “But not if you follow our rules, farmer boy. Remember those?”

Shiu rolls his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah- recite those.” And you’re gasping once one of Toji’s meaty palms drift up to your face - covering your dazed peripherals. “We’re both going to take turns fucking her using those rules, and my mate’s going to guess which one of us it is—how about that?”

“Mmm, sounds fun.” You smile.

And seeing that gorgeous smile of yours - what else was he supposed to be but putty in your hands? Shiu’s giving himself a few pumps before starting to press into your tight rim.

You’re tight.

So fucking tight.

His brows furrow n’ sweat starts beading at his forehead as he slowly - sloooowly - starts easing his proud cock inside. You’re arching into Toji’s back, whilst Shiu probes into your deepest depths. “O-oh.”

It was something so different.

Although he wasn’t exactly as vein-covered as Toji was; Shiu’s length managed to have the perfect curve that prodded ‘round the roof of your cunt. Somehow directly aiming for those tender spots inside—you’re feeling the pointed end of his shaft draw sensual zig-zags inside and you’re immediately begging for more.

Of course, that’s when Toji’s silently signalling Shiu to pull out.

Replacing the farmer’s cock with his instead.

Thick. Throbbing. Those patterns and groves on his shaft were just dizzying- and Toji’s already rendered your eyes sprinting to the back of your head with but a mere few inches inside you. 

He’s making your first ring of muscle streeeeeetch- and pressing a second overlarge hand down on your stomach to keep you from movin’ around too much. And you don’t need to see him to reach blindly behind you and tug on Toji’s newest bull ring—

“Don’t be mean, Toji.”

“S’not being mean, it’s just the rules.” Toji argues. His words come out in sizzling pants against the side of your face - somehow just his presence seemed enough to make your heat symptoms two times worse. “Now that the practice run’s over…”

Your eyes are fluttering open- only to see nothing past the gaps of Toji’s thick fingers. “That was just the practice run—?” Your poor puckered hole was already pulsating with friction.

But neither of them are answering.

Instead, it just seems that they’re intent on fucking any question or comprehensible thought right back into you—because just you’re feeling a sudden intrusion deep into your core. The bulbous head of it swipes apart your puffy pussylips- and the next thing you know, you’re seeing nothing but stars at the neverending inches of one of their cocks.

Somehow managing to probe even deeper than the first time- whoever this was was so fatly swollen that his cockhead opens up plunging crevices inside you. Perhaps even new ones.

You’re gasping away- “Please.” Both men are impressively managing to keep quiet as they’re easing inside. Not completely bottoming-out…but enough to make your toes curl. “Oh, please that feels so good.”

Hips attempting to chase more- he was going so slow.

But just as soon as you do - almost the very instant that your hips are breaking contact with the skin of Toji’s toned pelvis - you feel one of his hands pin you back down. Preventing you from moving a single inch.

Your hybrid ears rustle with the huff of laughter from behind you—and you know that there’s only one man who’d keep a hand oh-so-possessively on top of your womb as he sinks into your soaking wet cunt. Rule number one, remember?

“Toji-” You’re sputtering out, voice breaking so prettily at the end of your plea. “T-Toji move a little faster- ngh, please—”

Yet another failed attempt at a buck. “Good job, doll.” He gnaws on your ear lobe. “But don’t think we’re done here just yet…”

And then before you know it, he’s pulling out. The action lets out the loudest, sloppiest little plop! of pleasure between your legs- and it feels as though firecrackers are going off through your veins.

You’re practically shaking once another intrusion starts proddin’ between your legs. This time a bit more…timid. A bit more hesitant. A bit more inexperienced and careful—and you don’t have to pay attention to anything more as Shiu creeps your legs around his waist.

Letting his tunneling cockhead push into that wet hole of yours.

Unlike Toji, however, Shiu Kong simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Oh…” It’s just about the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard - like music to your ears. But could you really blame the guy? “Legs- rules number t-two, remember?” This was the first proper taste of that syrupy cunt he’s getting—the exact same one he’s been dreaming of for ages…as much as that makes him sound like an utter pervert.

Maybe he was.

Maybe- what even was he? What was his name? Who was he?

Shiu can’t formulate a single thought.

Maybe he should be concerned about that…but for the time being, he’s collapsing his lower half into you. Funneling the smoother length of his cock inside; the farmer is the first of the two to actually bottom out. Thighs against your thighs. Forehead against your forehead. Cocktip against your cervix.

You swear you’re feeling Shiu intrude all the way up to your throat—“Shiu…keep moving, baby.”

“Oh- oh, you seriously want it?” He asks between uneven pants. And even more uneven are those semi-thrusts he’s poundin’ away at the back of your pussy—unwilling to break contact with your sopping womb for even a split-second to thrust back in. “You seriously want this ol’ farmer to fuck you like this? And that’s not just the heat talking-”

“It’s always the heat talking.” Toji scoffs. “This slutty girl’s always in heat. Honestly- who told you it could come early?”

“S’not my fault.” Shiu taps the side of your thigh to signal to you that- oh…you’re getting dangerously close to Toji figuring it out. 

Sure, it seems that he’d deduced by now that there was something regarding the startings of a mating bond between you and Shiu. And what sort of hybrid would come between that? But the fact that Toji himself shared it…

Thankfully in that moment Shiu’s creating a distraction - unintentional or not. Because just a few thrusts and he’s already starting to bead out hot, glutinous cum that sticks to the back of your pussy.

“Shit…” Shiu whispers to himself. You’re sensing one of his hands reach downwards to squeeze ‘round the base of his length—perhaps thinking that that would stop him. But the only thing Shiu’s managing to do is milk out a few more cobwebs of cum that are getting fucked and fucked in by his irregular thrusts. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Time’s up.” Toji cuts him off gruffly. “It’s getting too easy- hurry it up.”

“Yes…sir?” Fuck- he hates to admit it but the bull hybrid was correct.

Ah…you’d expected for the two to alternate between thrusts. But you just didn’t expect it this fast. Because all of a sudden, Toji’s going from merely caressing your front to wrapping his entire left arm around your middle. Oh, those beefy forearms of his were simply indescribable. 

Then Shiu’s reeling his sloppy, cum-glazed cock backwards for one of them to replace it in no time. 

Such plump inches of their shaft. Such impatient semi-thrusts as he leaves your mouth watering. He’s increasing his pace twofold once you’re accommodating him inside, and Toji’s pressing his palm deeper against your face. “Oh-” And you hadn’t expected them to stick to their damn six (or seven) rules so much, either…“Fuuuuuuck. Is it Toji?”

“Nope.” Shiu chuckles. From where he was positioned in front of you, the farmer leans down and kisses your lips. “Still me.”

In punishment, you’re getting a heavy spankin’ on your stuffed pussy.

“Shit.”

“And the rule-” Toji pipes up from behind. “What about the rule?”

“What about the rule, I mean—” It’s just then that you’re realizing - you haven’t been able to squirm a single inch since Shiu had begun swabbin’ your poor insides. “Rule number one- rule number one.”

“Good girl.” Toji laughs. “Next.”

And you’re soon coming to the realization that they weren’t going to make this easy for you: due to everything from their rapid alternations, to the way that both of them were fucking you so stupid—

“Toji-” You’re dragging your nails down whatever body part of Toji’s that you could reach. His biceps flexed underneath your touch. “And the rule is…oh, the rule is…” Brain landing on the closest one that you think you could remember. “Rule number six?”

“Half-correct.” Toji punishes you with yet another spank. The white-hot pain and pleasure that runs up your cunt is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “That was actually a trick round - no rule.”

You bite. “Silly me…”

“But half-correct deserves just a little bit of a treat, doesn’t it?” Shiu makes your case.

And the ever-mean Fushiguro Toji considers it for a few seconds - before he’s nodding and letting his fingers dip between your pussylips. Rolling over clit in circular motions. “Happy?”

“V-very much.” You respond.

And so the cycle repeats - as both men are fucking into you like damn animals.

“Shiu? Rule number one-”

Thwack! “Half-correct.”

“Toji? Rule number five.”

Thwack! “Half-correct again, doll.”

“Toji? Rule number six.”

Thwack! Thwack! “Wrong!”

“Shiu-”

“Toji-”

Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. 

Over and over again—until you’ve said every rule at least five times, and their names countless amounts so.

It was almost getting too much. There’s another switch; and this time the thrusts are like none before them. They were harsh. They were jagged. They weren’t hitting with any specific target or objective in mind—just with the sole purpose of indentin’ his fat cockhead into every spot inside you, and hitting his hips to yours until you skin was burning-

“Toji?” You’re guessing, “Ruler number- fuck…the one about getting ready-” Based solely on the way that both men had their hands tapping at your hips to let you know when a particularly hard hit was coming through.

“And which one is that?” Toji croons.

“Number four-” There’s a victorious little pebble of precum that Toji’s emptying out into your insides. 

“Mmm, good catch.” And you’re feeling the smile crawl onto your face. “But I’m not Toji.”

Fucking—thwack!

“But how about just a little reward?” And then a hot mouth starts kissing down the valley of your breast - from this angle you could only assume that it was Shiu. 

Shiu was lapping the soft targets of your areolas…just lightly biting…and oh—he lets out a wet gasp as a thin stream of milk flows from your tits n’ into the handsome man’s mouth. “Oh- this might just be my reward.” He says as he keeps massaging your chest, twiddling his fingers over where you were most sensitive. 

“Leave some f’me.” Toji grunts at the other man.

By this point you were a blabbering mess, and it didn’t help that the other two were only growing sloppier by the second. Perhaps it was the heat affecting you three. Perhaps it was the pressure being put on all your bodies - crushed together like this. Hips driving into you again and again and again—

Another globular tip swerves inside you. “I-is it…Toji?” You ask. Your lower lip wobbles at the sudden stretches on places that couldn’t be reached without such a girth - both of them had their merits and it was hard not to long for…both. The mere thought fogs your mind. “And is it…”

Though there could only be one answer. At least for this one.

Your poor tail’s being used as a lever to drag you down onto Toji’s extremely thickened cock until you sat on the bottom of it. “-rule number five?”

Toji kisses the side of your face. “Now that…is 100% correct.”

“And what would you like as a reward? Tell your Shiu anything, pretty girl.” Shiu says—drawing a half-serious scoff from the hybrid.

But of course. There can only ever be one thing.

Your mouth opens and the confession slips out of you before you can think it through fully.

And then there’s a beat of silence- hell, you think even Toji’s hips began to falter. For but a mere split-second before he’s bashing in the soft spongy platform at the end of your cunt—“Oh.” He breathes. “I don’t see why not…”

Thrill shoots through you.

And for the first time in a while - Toji removes his palm from your face. You’re wincing ever-so-slightly at the sudden flood of light, before that expression turns into something akin to yearning as you stare at Shiu’s cock throbbing between your legs. 

He was almost out-of-place with Toji’s fat length already stuffed inside you. 

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Shiu whispers to himself as he glides his blushin’ cockhead to drag along your outer cunt. Uuuuup the planes of your thighs. Lingering on that leakin’ slit that was so stuffed. And then squeezing the very tip-top reddened crown of his shaft into your entrance—did he mention that you already had Toji’s fat length stuffed inside you?

Shiu’s expression morphs at the tightest fit-

“Shit- fucking shit, are we sure—”

“Why not?” Toji asks. And Shiu thinks that that’s damn easy for him to say; especially considering that he was already kept hostage inside your gooey inside. That’s where Shiu was trying to be.

He’s attempting to drag you in using your tail.

The other man is rolling his eyes - and his hips. Letting off a few useless semi-thrusts that doesn’t push him even a single inch inside—not with the extremely plump circumference of the hybrid’s length inside. “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you- hah, pull out and try doing it yourself if you think it’s so easy?

“The early bull gets the pussy.” Toji smirks. “Besides- don’t tell me you’re forgetting rule number five already? The one about taking it all also means that you have to- mmm, put it all in-”

“I remember.” Shiu spits. Hands pushing your legs further open and grindin’ his hips close until his happy trail was roughly massaging your clit. “I’m just saying that it’s hypocritical to talk about the rules when even you wouldn’t be able to-”

“Guys-” You shrill above the constant arguing. “Guys.”

It takes you raising your voice loud enough to make the bedroom walls shudder for them to finally hear you.

And once they look at you- you’re huffing up at them. “I’m making my own rule.” Both pairs of pretty pussydrunken eyes widen in unison. “From now on- if you fight then you have to kiss and make up.”

“What-”

“What-”

“Pretty girl…” Shiu attempts to appeal to your softer side.

“Nuh huh.” Shaking your head. “So kiss—and then just fuck me.”

They share a look as if to question whether usurping of the rule-making was allowed…before it seems to dawn on them that yes—if it was you. And Shiu’s shrugging and leaning in - all the while still keeping his pulsating cocktip present between your folds - and Toji meets him halfway with only a few grumbles.

Shiu moans into the kiss.

And with a resounding sluuuuurp! he’s managing to squeeze just an inch or two of his cock inside. Double lengths stretching your walls until you were seeing white-

“Oh- oh.” You’re moaning. Shiu now had everything he needed to reel his bulky hips back and start pummeling you in time with Toji’s own thrusts. “I’ve never felt anything like this before—”

“Me neither.” The farmer manages through clenched teeth. The sensitive underside of his cock was rubbin’ and getting pulled by Toji’s own - those patterns of his veins, and the rock-hardness that mirrored his own - and even the slightest friction was enough to send spirals of white-hot pleasure pouring out of his bawling divot. 

“Tch- fine…me neither.” Toji groans. “But it only feels good because of me-”

“In your dreams.”

Without even being asked to or reminded of the newly-minted rule, they’re pressing a kiss onto each other’s lips—and then yours. Their pheromones twisting and melding into one. Their skin growing even more heated. Their cocks growing faster- 

And faster.

Both Shiu and Toji were moving at sloppy, lust-hazed paces that should not be possible for such a tight cranny. And yet they were managing to time it so that you’re feeling both of them exactly in the best ways: Toji and his deeeelicious veins pressing their patterns onto the sides of your channel, Shiu and his upright curve that spotted all your best nerve endings. 

They’re sandwiching you from above and below, too—Toji and his Herculean build, Shiu and his similar yet broader- and somehow stronger build.

They’re absolutely ruining you.

Ruining you.

Fucking you until your pussy’s feeling rattled and raw- and your eyes have completely bleared over with tears. Brain fried.

So it isn’t long before you’re feeling the pangs of an oncoming orgasm, and letting your mouth open to announce it—

“I-I’m going to cum.” But in actuality it’s Shiu that manages the declaration. And he’s stuffing his face into your tits, suckling out the sweet sweet milk that your hybrid body produces as he strings your gooey insides with his cum. “My pretty cow hybrid, I’m gonna stuff you full.” Looooong ropes of satin. So hard- that Shiu’s forced to hold onto both yours and Toji’s horns as he fucks your overstuffed pussy through his orgasm.

Those veins of Toji’s were making him twitch in pleasure.

You and Toji are crashing into your high rather soon afterwards too.

“Gonna…oh.” As the forceful waves of dopamine flood through every vein and atom inside you—practically make you vibrate with pleasure. You’re letting your eyes fly to the back of your head, and your toes curl as both men thrash that gooey g-spot of yours.

Perfectly synchronized with every peak upon peak of your high.

The prolonged wave of bliss soars—and it’s around the very crescendo that you’re feeling Toji empty his heavy balls out as well. They’d been thwack-thwack-thwacking! near the bottom of your slit for so long now, creating a carnal ache over your outer pussy- and it just feels so good to feel those globs of cum flood your deepest caverns.

Where Shiu had already made a mess before- “Shit…don’t stop.” 

And it’s with renewed vigor that they’re fucking and fucking you through the white-hot pleasure - so good that you’re sobbing. In-between this euphoric experience is when Toji’s keening his hips up into yours- chasing the wetness of your cunt even more—

Not just to fuck his pearly-white droplets of cum inside - but to try and squeeze, fuck, his swollen knot inside.

“Inside—” As you demand needily at your bull hybrid, Shiu watches on in something akin to awe. He starts nudging his hips back as though to give Toji more space-

But you’re wrapping your legs around his hips and dragging him to you. “Rule number one, remember?”

Letting Toji fuck his knot inside you as Shiu has his twitchin’ wet cock stuffed in there, too. The stretch was indescribable.

You think you’re cumming all over again just from it.

“My- my mates…” You’re sobbing out- sandwiched between the two buff men. Shiu leans in to kiss you, and once he’s taking a good long look at Toji too. 

“My mates…I suppose?” He says with a sheepish smile.

Toji looks between the two of you, seemingly having connected the dots. “Does this mean I’ve gotta get both of you pregnant?”

You smile. “Sounds good to me.”

Shiu. “Wait-”

Because heats lasted a week for hybrids. 

Shiu better get his human stamina used to it.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry…what?”

It’s a sentence that Shiu thinks he’s going to have to get used to a lot—telling people that the cow hybrid you’d had a crush on for the past few years but then gotten mated is actually your mate too - and that by association you’re her mate’s mate but honestly not really complaining about it is…for one a long sentence. 

And two, it’s probably going to get a bunch of weird looks.

It sounds like the stuff of a fantasy, maybe even those romance stories; and Shiu’s well and fully aware of how he sounds when he says it.

Which is why he’s telling Kusakabe first - it only seemed appropriate.

“It’s exactly as I said.” Shiu states matter-of-factly. “And you can ask Dr. Shoko if you think there’s been any mix-”

“No no, man. It’s not that I don’t believe you.” Kusakabe interrupts him. “In fact, I think it’s great that you finally managed to do something about your feelings- congratulations, man.”

“Thank you.” Shiu watches the herd from the door to the barn house - inside, the only pair were you and Toji. His breath hitches once you’re walking over from Toji to nuzzle up to him. He reaches to scratch behind those silken ears of yours—“But then what was all that about?”

“Ah- no, it’s just…” There’s a truck honk from the other end of the line, and Shiu realizes that Kusakabe must be going somewhere. “I assumed it was actually about the bull.”

Shiu squints. “The what thing?”

“The bull thing. I guess Toji forgot to tell you since you were a little preoccupied. But last night when Toji took over driving my truck we happened to run into…everything.”

Shiu snorts. “Serves you right.”

“And man- I needed this truck to transport this new bull hybrid for ol’ Gakuganji down in Kyoto. You know how he gets. It’s the only one big enough so…” 

And now…now Shiu wasn’t exactly having fun. “…And?” The two of you were looking at him in interest now, clearly having heard something about another hybrid—and Toji especially had had his smirk growing in synchronization with the increasingly ashen look on Shiu’s face.

“And so Toji said it’s alright, but would you mind looking after this new bull for a few days until I get the truck fixed? Just for a few days. I’m actually on the way there right now so thank you. His name is Sukuna and-”

“Noooooooooo-”

.

.

.

“—devastating loss for the man that once ruled the octagon.”

“The latest in his recent losing streak, fans are left wondering when their light heavyweight champion will make his comeback. And what changes have to be made in order to—”

“—almost as if he’s been jinxed, hah!”

You hasten to turn down the volume on your phone. Despite having your earphones connected, all those screams n’ cries n’ protests still melded together into a powerful whirlwind, blaring out from the cheap speakers.

Tinny. The disappointment of the vast audience on-screen was far too much for your device to contain.

And not wishing to draw any more dirty looks from the other passengers on your bus, you muted the video and paused it on a still of Toji Fushiguro.

It was right after his defeat in the preliminaries; his skin glistening in fervent sweat, a cut bleeding from his brow, face scrunched as he rejected the help of someone from his own team. Instead, choosing to get up by himself.

Still silenced, you let the video play on a little longer - and you take in the glump slump of his shoulders. Oh-so-toned. You take in the way he stalks grimly off of the octagon-shaped battleground that the MMA was most famous for.

From here, you could tell that Toji towered above all of the crew- hell, he even towered above his opponent.

So why did he lose?

Alright, so you weren’t an expert in all things mixed-martial arts - but as a physical therapist you think you had some sort of say in the matter!

From here, you determine that this should’ve been an easy win for him. Terribly easy. Practically handed to him: for Toji was built considerably larger, stronger, about 6’3 with a ripped physique that made you understand exactly why the fighter had graced every single sports magazine in existence last season. Every TV show. Every sports exclusive. He’d taken the fighting world by storm at his debut, and he’d held that title ever since.

Infamous.

A wonder to watch on the screen.

A deep v-line. Arms the size of your head.

Those sage, half-lidded eyes of his were intense - especially now, as they blazed with injustice. You could remember feeling them follow your every move, prowling, from the athletics section on every magazine aisle. You think you’d picked up those exact magazines a few times, just to make sure that they weren’t somehow actually following you.

One time, you even remember the shop employee nodding approvingly at your choice.

Everyone knew Toji Fushiguro.

If not from his legendary MMA reputation, then from his irresistible looks. If not from his irresistible looks, then from his reputation as a tyrant in the ring.

If from neither then from his recent streak of losses that shook the fighting world.

It’d come out of nowhere. And no athlete quite expects to lose, but this seemed to have come as a surprise especially to Toji and his team, crew to an athlete that should’ve been at the top of his game.

You ponder - perhaps it was some wear on the joints, or maybe he hasn’t been getting enough electrolytes this season…

You’re pulled out of your little reverie by a cough from the kind ol’ lady seated beside you; the type that was less a necessity of the body, and more a pointed intonation of ‘I don’t know what you’re doing and it seems like neither do you’.

And, suddenly, you realize that you hadn’t just been staring into space as you’d thought- no, you’d been staring (quite passionately) at a paused frame of Toji Fushiguro in all his shirtless, sweaty glory. A close-up of his built figure. A close-up of the tattoo on the side of his toned hip.

Which, you had to admit was quite…attractive- pull yourself together! You turn off the phone that you’d pulled out in the first place for research, lest anyone else on the bus start thinking that you were some kind of pervert (it might already be too late for that, the elderly woman was tittering to herself). Ducking your head in shame, you sigh out in relief as you notice that your stop is near.

“The next stop is Sendagaya Station, Shibuya.” The lilting voice of the conductor rings out, “Please prepare your fares.”

You were glad to finally get off this bus, after a long ride spent toiling to yourself. In no time, you’d paid your fare and was stepping out into the bustling city.

Conveniently, right in front of the gymnasium you were supposed to arrive at: TEAM BLACK, TOKYO MMA GYM. 5F. 

To work for Toji Fushiguro.

You check your watch—five minutes early. Dressed in your crisp scrubs, you adjust the glinting golden badge engraved with your name and your position as physical therapist. 

And then you step in.

The sound of gloves connecting with flesh, of groaning punching bags, and shouts greet you immediately as you enter. There were a multitude of fights that were ongoing in the expansive gym, but there was only one that you couldn’t take your eyes off of - right in the middle, pummeling his bloodied opponent, was Toji Fushiguro.

From around the ring, teammates and coaches were yelling at the dark-haired man to stop. But he doesn’t.

His stone-cold face specks with blood, and he still doesn’t stop. His opponent taps at the mat to halt the match, and he still doesn’t stop. One of the other fighters in the gym runs up to grab him, and he still doesn’t stop.

Ultimately, you watch as it takes about five men to even match Toji’s strength- forget about overpowering.

“What’s wrong with you?!” One of the men cried out, “‘Free sparring’ doesn’t mean you should actually take the guy apart- someone could have gotten injured!”

“You okay? You seemed lost there, man…”

“Is this about the loss from a few weeks ago- eek!” Several of them stumble backwards as Toji glares at them for that particular comment, and suddenly you’re reminded of the match you’d just watched on the way here. That devastating loss.

You look over and can’t help but notice that the man inside the ring right now is much bigger than the one he’d fought during that match. Much stronger, it seems.

And again, you’re wondering - why the hell couldn’t he win?

“The punk wanted to spar, s’not my fuckin’ problem he couldn’t handle it.” Toji grunts, and it’s the first time you’re hearing his low baritone. Slightly husky.

He rolls his eyes as he shoves off the other fighters, and pulls aside the colored ropes ring to step out. Which is when, slowly, magnetically, his eyes meet yours.

“Who’s this?”

Toji’s in front of you in a split-second, his broad shape looming. His twinkling irises staring down. His black t-shirt skin-tight. His scarred lips slightly quirking upwards—

And before you can even think of responding, you hear a call of your name.

From the other side of the gym, a clean-cut man with a slight spattering of scruff was pacing his way over. He was well-built, like the other fighters here, though with an air of authority with which he wielded a clipboard.

In front of you, Toji repeats your name. Like he was tasting it.

“Ah, you must be the new physical therapist!” The man announces once he’s close enough, and you bow politely to which he does the same. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. The name’s Shiu Kong, m’the manager of these animals- so if there’s anything you need to ask, you ask me.”

“Thank you for having me, and for the opportunity.” You smile, seeing Toji’s stunned expression from the edge of your peripheral vision.

He scoffs, “And what do we need a physical therapist for?”

Shiu instantly smacks him with his clipboard, “Have you had one too many blows to the head?” He barks out, in a tone that was the complete opposite of the gentle way he’d spoken to you. “Huh? Have you? Have you forgotten the fact that you’ve done more losing than winning this season-”

“Alright alright-” Toji waves off, “The fuck? They should put you in the ring next.”

And then he turns to you and sweeps his eyes up and down. Deciding to take a chance, you thrust your hand out in the attempt of a handshake- only for him to take it in his much-larger, roughened one. And instead he flips your palm over and bends- almost like he’s bowing, almost like you’re royalty - and grins. “Pleasure.”

He doesn’t introduce himself, he knows he doesn’t have to.

And with only a slight smirk thrown your way, Toji turns on his heel and heads in the direction of one of the clinical-looking rooms in the gymnasium. Away from all the fighting, you assumed that this will be your office going forward.

Toji’s already there when you enter, and he’s-

…shirtless?

His broad back was all on display for you, every curve n’ divot, every one of his eight washboard abs, every flex of his muscles. He was glimmering with a sheen of sweat that brought out just how toned he was- and you think you could see, closer than ever, the inky spirals of a snake on his hip.

“My clothes are soaked in sweat-” Toji turns to look at you, and you feel your heart race at being caught staring. “I can do this in my boxers, right?”

“Ah, yes!” You try to keep your tone even, and help your client - your client - lay down on the examination table. But oh- he really was attractive. Painfully so.

Not even those smokin’ hot magazines and edits on social media (all part of your…research, of course) had done him justice.

But you had a job to do, and you’re getting started right away. “Do you have any specific concerns?” You ask, pulling a thin towel over Toji’s crotch area as he reclines. And he only sighs and rests his head upon his palms, muscles rippling as he does so.

“Just do your thing.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod, “Then, I’ll give you the full body sports oil massage.”

“Mn.”

You start from his broad shoulders, and then down to his pecs.

And he really wasn’t like any of the clients you’d had prior - no one came even close. You could feel the power in his body, the firmness, the training. Any time you glissade your lotionized hands across Toji’s muscles, he grunts- and, oh, you have to squeeze your thighs together to stop from thinking anything stupid.

You kneaded your way down from his bulging biceps, and onto the side of his hips - where you got a really good look at the snake tattoo. You notice that it also had flowers inked around it.

And then onto his thighs…you’re raising them in external rotations. All the while looking up at his ridiculously handsome face to check whether it hurt, you didn’t register the way your hands somewhat struggled to get a proper grasp on his meaty thighs, especially with the sweat.

You didn’t register the way your fingertips slightly scoured downwards-

“Oh, shit!” You hiss, jumping your hand back. In the few seconds that you’d been distracted by his looks, you’d somehow traced the crown head of something long…and hard.

Looking down, you realize that Toji’s erection was throbbing against the thin layer of his boxers. Barely even hidden by the cover of the towel, the lengthy cylindrical outline was there for your eyes to see - and for your hand to accidentally touch.

Your eyes widen.

How was he so big?

“My- my apologies, sir!” You sputter out, resting your treasonous hands against your sides. “It’s a very common physiological response to get hard- ah- an erection during a massage, and it’s completely my mistake for not noticing. Again, my apologies, I completely understand if you wish to-”

“Whaddaya doing just standing there?” Toji cuts you off gruffly, and you look up at his face in surprise. He raises a dark brow, “Aren’t you gonna finish what you started?”

You blink, “Finish what I…”

“The massage.” He cocks his head, though there’s a knowing smile on his lips - how devilish he looked this way. “That damn Shiu’s gonna give me hell if I don’t get it- so hurry it up, will ya?”

That was close. Hastily nodding, you reach over to massage his thigh once more. “Right at once, sir.”

Looking down, you chose not to make eye-contact with him for the rest of the session. Instead, focusing your entire attention on perfectly executing the massage, step by step - you wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened before!

Toji, however, stared at you through his partially-lidded eyes the entire time.

.

.

.

“That wraps up your treatment for today. Thank you for your patience, Mr. Fushiguro.” You step to the side, giving the athlete the space to stretch out his long limbs and feel the effects of your massage- which, you had to admit yourself, was amongst some of the best in the academy.

He takes his time rolling his shoulders, feeling the way the blood vessels on his muscles flow smoothly. Energized.

“Hm, not bad.” Toji muses, more to himself. “Most of the punks here call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Fushiguro’-” He nods at you, “You can just call me Toji.”

“Oh- I’m honored, sir- I mean-” Your veins blister with heat, and you think that the slight quirk of his lips might have something to do with it. “—Toji.” It felt so wrong on your tongue, and yet so right.

And before you can let anything further slip (because, really, you’d never been close enough to a client to address them by their first name, let alone be told to do so after the very first session), you turn away from the handsome man to grab your bag of supplies, your coat, and step to fumble with the door handle. “And now- if that’s all, then I’ll be going now. Have a nice day, sir- I mean-”

As you make your very evident escape, Toji can only watch. Can only stare.

He feels his massive erection still throb furiously between his legs, still ravenous. Like never before. And one of his hands snakes down to squeeze—“How…interesting.”

Before the door swings open once more and in comes Shiu, prattling away something about how you ‘left in such a hurry’ and what a ‘sweet lil’ thing’ you were- Toji casually throws a second hand towel over his lap as his best friend (and manager) comes to slap him on the shoulder. “Feeling refreshed, eh? I can see it in your eyes- with her, we might just have hope about winning that next match.”

“Yeah.” He rasps out, throat dry. Toji watches where you left, he can still feel your soft hands tingling on his skin. “Yeah, we might just.”

.

.

.

“Fuck-” The champion spits between his clenched canines- well, future champion. But it didn’t hurt to be a lil’ optimistic, did it? “Oh, fuck- I’ve never been fuckin’ harder.”

He didn’t fucking care. Not right now, not when he had his strong hand rested against the glistening tile of the stall. His head bent forwards, his back wet with the pouring shower, his right hand slipped below his v-line and furiously pumping his cock.

Up and down. Up and down.

Fuck, he was jerking himself off like he never had before. Until the friction of his roughened palm left his long, hot length all red n’ raw- and yet, he still wasn’t stopping. Still couldn’t. 

He remembers the feeling of your soft hands on his thighs and Toji bucks-

“F-fuck-” The fighter gnaws down on his scarred bottom lip, trying desperately not to make a sound that will echo out in the gym’s empty locker room. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- s’not supposed to feel this good.” Sure, they had stalls - but right now even the slightest flick of his thumb, right underneath his mushroomy tip, felt so good that he might as well moan out loud.

And the worst part was that he’s sure his very first moan would be your name.

“Fuck, mama, s’not supposed to feel this good.” He snarls, entire body wracking with shivers. The bulging biceps on his arms ripple as he glides his hand down to his base. And all the way back up.

Abs tensing. Veins on his pelvis popping.

With a few more vulgar strokes, he’s hoverin’ his thumb right over the divot on the middle of his cockhead. It was all pink n’ needy, dribbling out in syrupy white cum in absolutely no time- “Look what you’ve done to me.” Toji watches himself through his shaggy black bangs, wet with water and perspiration, cumming all over his hands. “I don’t know what blessing- what c-curse you’ve put on me, but…” Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

He rides out his high on his right hand, fucking his fist like he imagines you might tease him through it- just like the way you’d teasingly grazed his tip. Just grazed.

You’d probably take it like such a good girl. Let him paint his gluey white cum all over your face, and just across your lips - it would probably match your scrubs, heh. Biting back a groan, those lecherous thoughts of his only make him finish even faster.

And once the sparks of his high have finally bated - the fountain of his ivory sap stopping - Toji washes off the remnants of his lewd act. Spurting out some cool body wash and cleaning himself off, he slicks back his hair with clean hands now.

Head throwing back, he knew he had to get his mind in focus for the upcoming match - just in a few hours, actually. The car was supposed to be waiting for him outside the gym by now. It was some sort of rebound match of Legends vs. Rookies that Shiu had managed to scrounge together, and it should be displeased at the fact that he was supposed to fight some no-good, hotshot punk- but, honestly he had a good feeling about this one.

Toji’s thoughts stray back to you, and he finds himself cracking a snicker- “You’ve fuckin’ cursed me, woman. You plague me. But…” A thrill zaps through his strong body, “…I like it.”

.

.

.

Toji Fushiguro won the Legends vs. Rookies event. 

A wipe-out so clean that everyone was sure it’d go down in history. A comeback so strong that it had already gone down in history.

After that, it was a streak of absolute demolition: the preliminaries, the co-main events, the PPV matches, each and every single fight that was thrown his way- Toji Fushiguro was sure to win without even breaking a sweat (metaphorically).

Hell, at one point even some of his past contenders from his losing streak had demanded rematches, perhaps thinking that they could put the legend in his place once more.

He’d won those, too.

After a season-long losing streak, it was months of winning. And you were giving him his massages on the days before every match. 

And Toji was back on the magazine covers, the interviews, the brand deals. Right now you couldn’t even step outside your humble apartment building without being met with at least four different billboards and several commercials featuring him. It was quite strange - seeing the rugged persona in those mediums, and then his still-rugged demeanour in real life.

Though, slightly less so.

There was a faint gentleness to the way that Toji was (when you’d brought this up with some of the other fighters you’d grown close to, they’d fervently denied and showed off their bruises from the pummelings that Toji gave them in the ring). 

But you were sure it was there: in the way that he’d always be first in the office, in the way he’d lightly murmur greetings to you and only you, in the way he’d hold open doors and look away as if he wasn’t, in the way that there was a drink of your favorite preference on your desk every morning. And you’d asked around, wondering if it was perhaps Shiu or any of the rookies that was doing so- but they all denied it.

All but one of them.

Toji.

Even Shiu seemed to have noticed that something had shifted in his best fighter. Hell, he was on a winning streak after so long, so of course there had to have been a change.

The other man couldn’t quite pinpoint it, though he gave most of the credit to you and your massages. ‘They must be some sort of magic work!’ He’d exclaimed to you one day, after a particularly tough opponent that Toji had easily beat.

And you yourself couldn’t quite be sure, though you didn’t want to give yourself all the credit. You were only glad that your favorite fighter (yes, after being around MMA fighters for long enough now, you’d determined that Toji was your favorite) was back to winning again.

Only glad you could help.

Which is why, in the ghost entrails of the early morning, at exactly 2:36AM, when Toji texted you - you answered.

2:36AM - Toji (MMA fighter): I need you. 

2:38AM - Toji (MMA fighter): For another one of those full body massages.

2:42AM - Toji (MMA fighter): Please.

2:42AM - You: On my way!

As you jumped out of your bed to get dressed, you noticed that you had several missed calls from Shiu, as well. After calling him right back, he informed you that just last week, Toji had come up on a draw during his last match, which was yet another co-main event for the #1 Contender spot. 

Of course, you knew of this, you’d watched the match on the gymnasium television. And though it wasn’t the worst of outcomes (especially considering that this was world-class fighting, at a light heavyweight level), considering his winning streak, you were somewhat surprised. And slightly afraid that he’d go back into his rut of losing, just as Shiu was.

Which was why he, too, wanted to reach out to inquire whether you could do one of your ‘magical’ full-body massages on Toji on the night before one of his biggest matches yet. A rematch for the #1 Contender spot - the audiences loved him.

Shiu told you he’d seen Toji moping around after that devastating draw, and knew that the only one who just might have the ability to brighten his mood would be you. So please, if you could go at 2:45AM to the penthouse apartment of a celebrity MMA fighter to give him a massage?

Of course, you said yes.

It seems that Toji’s team had arranged for everything already, and a flashy black car was already waiting outside your apartment building to whisk you off to your destination. You twiddled your thumbs, slightly nervous (for what? You weren’t quite sure) as the car parked in front of a set of gleaming skyscrapers. Apartment buildings of a calibre that you’d only seen in architectural magazines.

Escorted upwards by a few of Toji’s own personal bodyguards past an entrance larger than your entire apartment, and a lobby that practically screamed luxury. 

You didn’t even know that Tokyo had such a place. 

Massive. Concierges that bowed as soon as they saw you. An orchestra that still played in the dead of night. Chandeliers like miniature suns that lined the ceiling.

Damn, maybe you should’ve become a famous fighter, you whistled. It made sense, though, he is one of the highest-paid athletes in the country. Even the elevators were gilded, shining so brightly that you could make out every inch of your face on its reflection. And the bodyguard’s, too- you quickly straightened up and tried to look as casual as possible as he led you to the very top floor.

A large glowing button simply labelled with a ‘P’.

The penthouse floor had a wide carpeted corridor leading up to it, all golds and reds like the rest of the apartment. You walked up to the expensive-looking door at the end of it, and buzzed the doorbell on its touchpad.

Bzzzz—!

The door swings open.

And there stands Toji Fushiguro, in all his sweaty, shirtless glory.

It almost reminded you of the first time you gave him a massage. Chest heaving. Vision bleary. A glittering bead of sweat lines the curve of his jawline, ending at his chin and dripping downwards. Down, down, down the valley of his pecs.

There was a lewd little flush that overtook his tannish skin.

Like he was…sex-flushed.

Spreading out across his tense shoulders, and all the way down his chest. The back of his neck. You don’t think it even ends as it follows the line of his dark happy trail, those curly lil’ hairs at the bottom of his navel, and then even further down—

Toji’s grey sweatpants hung low on his hips.

Dangerously low.

And you have to force yourself to look away. You swallow as he raises one big, beefy arm and rests it on the top of the door frame. Looking at you through the gaps in his damp bangs, “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, mama.”

“O-oh.” You immediately close your mouth, realizing that you’d been gawking at him for far too long now (how unprofessional!) Sheepishly, you raise your bag of supplies and shake it ever-so-slightly. “I uh- got your text! And Shiu also called to tell me that you wanted an extra round of physical therapy before your match, sir-”

“Toji.”

“Toji-” You amend. Before taking on a stern tone, “And it looks to me like you’d already been up working out before your match. Overstressing your joints will wear them out, you know!”

He scratches the back of his head, a sleazy smile overtaking his face. “Working out- right.”

Tutting, “What you need now is a nice massage and some relaxation. I’ll do your usual with some added therapy for your blood pressure, how about that?”

“Perfect.” Toji grins, and he cracks the doorway open. Just slightly open. So that you have to squeeze yourself between the doorway and his chiselled body - not that you were complaining. “Come on in and give me a- hah, real workout then, how about it?”

“Relaxation, Toji.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Ignoring his teasing, you step inside. It’s a luxurious apartment - one of those stylishly modern types, black and white, with flares of Toji’s MMA career. Boxing gloves on the sprawling couch. A TV that takes up an entire wall, paused on highlights from his last match. A cabinet overspilling with trophies and belts.

Led by him, you stumble past towering artworks that likely cost about five of these penthouses - and that’s about ten thousand of your own apartment.

He walks you through winding hallways, and ultimately into what you guess is the master bedroom.

His bedroom.

The first thing you notice as you step in isn’t the rich furniture, or the king-sized bed, or the draping curtains that were cracked ever-so-slightly to let a sliver of the city seep through. No- it’s the mountain of tissues scattered on the wine-red carpet, the bottle of lotion on his bedside table, the way the dark bedsheets looked like he’d just been thrashing on it.

Toji casually lays back down on his wrinkled bed, and rests his clammy head on two hands. Stretching out. 

You hasten to set out your work, coating your palms in lotion, and beginning your massage. As you start off warming up his obliques, you can’t help but blurt out- “M-my apologies for assuming it was a workout-”

Fuck.

Why would you say that?

You gasp, “I mean-”

“Why?” Toji croons, tilting his head to look at you. Trying to avoid his gaze, you quickly shift to extending his legs instead. “It was a workout, heh.”

Your veins bubble, “Oh…”

“And it’s a workout I need before every match, y’know?” Looking at you closely, still, you’re too aware of the fact that you’re massaging his thigh. “The fact that m’fuckin’ my fist like some lecher before every match, you don’t think that’s strange?”

“I see. I don’t really…” Your throat is drier than the Sahara, you have no idea what to say - though, you admit, a part of you wants to hear more. So that’s what he’d been doing, in this very room, on this very bed, just before you’d arrived.

Another part of you is thrilled. Another part of you is confused why you’re thrilled- which quickly morphs into understanding once your brain conjures up a sizzling image of Toji Fushiguro alone with his sweatpants at his ankles, hands fisting his rock-hard cock. 

Shaking your head free of those lecherous visions, you attempt to lighten the mood- “Is that why you’ve been winning all these matches lately, hah?”

“Exactly.” And Toji sounded dead-fucking-serious. Rising, he looks you squarely in the eyes with his slightly murky ones. “See, the thing is, I have this jinx.”

Your eyes widen.

“That’s why I was on a losing streak- no matter what happens, it turns out I needa have a real good high the night before a match.” Your hands have stopped their movements, yet he shifts to edge them up higher. Closer. “N’ it needs to be truly satisfying for me to win.”

“So- so these past few matches?”

“Mhm, you’re a smart one, mama.” He shifts on the bed, sitting up. Even closer. “You could say it’s my routine, and it’s very important to me.” His verdant gaze shifts from your right eye, to your left, to your lips. A triangle. “And…I’d found my fix. Just fucking my fist to the thought of her was enough- but lately…lately, I dunno if that’s all I want.”

Your breath catches—he was talking about…“I see- th-that must be quite challenging.”

“Heh, it looks like you still don’t get it.”

Before you know it, his hand grasps yours. And he’s bringing it up- to press an innocent peck on the back of your hand, though the burning look in his eyes was anything but.

Scarred lips murmuring against your skin, “Why’d ya think that on the crucial night before a match, I’d go through all the trouble of calling my manager, informing security, and having you come over?” He chuckles, “And if you still don’t get it-”

And that sweet, sweet kiss he was pressing to your hand?

Well, Toji’s canines slip outwards to lightly bite down - just teasingly. He looks at you through his long, Stygian lashes. “I know the way you look at me, ya aren’t slick- hah! If you want - only if you want - you should know.” Sighing out. A confession. “It’s always been you, doll. Always.”

So he really was talking about you earlier.

Your heart stutters, and the only thing you can think to do - let your hand slip up, just the way it had on the first day you’d given him a massage.

And sure as day, there it was, the massive fucking erection that raged beneath his sweatpants. Just as large - if not even larger - than how you’d remembered him. 

Just as needy - if not needier.

You gulp, “Well, I am your physical therapist intended to help you…” You stare at him dead-on in the eyes: they were drunk with lust. Looking as if he was on the very urge of shattering if you just say the word. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think of him in that way, either. “-win.”

.

.

.

“Oh fuck, you taste so good, mama. Just a lil’ wider now—just a little wider.” At Toji’s throaty beckons, you’re stretchin’ your thighs further apart with a whimper. 

Feeling the scorchin’ hot gust of his breath against your core, you arch your back with a yelp once you feel him swat his calloused fingertips against your folds.

Teasingly, he runs his fat thumb right past your pussylips- snagging down on your clit to make you even wetter above him. “Wiiider now- lemme see her properly, mama.” He huffs out, demanding. “No need to be shy with me.” 

“M’already stretching.” You’re rebutting, grabbing onto a few tufts of his raven bangs to balance yourself. You knew you didn’t need to be gentle with him- in fact, Toji groans at the feeling of you pulling on his hair, using it as leverage. 

After all, he’d been the one to insist on making out with your cunt this way: your thighs straddling either side of his face, your cunt hovering above his mouth.

A beaded droplet of slick dribbles into his mouth and he has his tongue out n’ ready to catch it. Pryin’ your swollen folds even further apart with his thumb,  “Atta girl-” As you leak out at his words- “Atta girl, s’exactly how wet I want you.”

“Hmpf- and you haven’t even kissed me yet.” You point out, stubbornly.

To which Toji only grins - oh, how cute you were. “You wan’ me to kiss you? There-” And before you know it, you’re feeling something cold and wet cling onto your pussy. Only later are you realizing that he’d just spat on your cunt, letting the lewd slurp-slurp-sluuuurp ring out for both your ears to hear. “Those lips happy now, or do you want tongue?”

“You’re just so mean- ngh-”

Another probing press of his crowned thumb, once more rolling over your clit perfectly. “Oh, so you do want tongue.”

And Toji says it so casually, as if he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. As if he normally did communicate through the squelching slurps your pussy was giving out-

Because then he’s delving his tongue into you like an animal.

Barely even prepping you, barely even warning you- not before the scourin’ tip of his tongue then enters past your folds. Striking directly against some tender inner part of your walls, before he’s darting it back out and fucking you with his long muscle.

Rutting.

Again and again and again.

You feel your thighs shiver hopelessly at the sheer length of Toji’s tongue - so fucking long that you could feel his ridged tastebuds aim for your very cervix. As if he could reach. “O-oh my god. How are you so big, Toji?”

“Mmm, and I haven’t even put my cock in yet, doll.” He smiles priggishly, his tongue slurping up every wadded ounce of slick that leaves you. “How are you gonna take that then, huh?”

“I don’t know- ngh.” He’s mazing another inch of his tongue in, thoroughly. And it’s enough to leave your body all loose n’ wobbly with pleasure- stupidly, you attempt to hold onto the towering headboard on his bed, but Toji can’t have that, now, can he?

Not when he was the one pounding your pretty pussy with all his tastebuds.

Glued to the slick-filled orifices of your cunt, he’s unhooking your hands from the headboard and bringing it back down to hold onto his scalp. To pull. To rough him up a little. “Don’t even think about it-” He can’t even speak through the rough, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on your puckered hole. Wetly. Gasping for air- for more tastes of your candied cunt. “In fact…”

Your hips flinch ever-so-slightly once Toji raises his head up - which, with his powerful body, was absolutely nothing even with your weight on top of him. And through his long bangs he takes a gooood, long look at you.

At your cunt.

At the way you were still hovering your hips, and then he’s spanking his familiar hand down on the tip-top of your clit. Making you gasp- “Did you just-”

“Whoops.” Faux-innocently, Toji acts all nice then - pinpointing the top of his tongue into each of those tender spots you loved so much. He unhinges his jaw even further to make sure that he isn’t leaving a single spot unkissed. Long and hard. 

Smack!

And again, you’re finding the most tender outer part of your pussy slapped. “Aww, not again.” Toji has the audacity to pout on your behalf. Meanly, his free hand slides over to grip your ass and pull you down. “Anyways…why don’tcha properly fuckin’ sit, mama. Maybe then my hands will stop- heh, slipping.”

And as if to prove his point, his prolonged tongue skids all the way from your glossy hole to your clit. “I mean…”

“Like- fuck!” Still urging you to sit properly with his hands, on the verge of manhandling you. “Who the fuck do ya think you are, honey?”

You shyly try to listen to what he says, grindin’ your treacly cunt all over his open mouth. And oh- oh, it was like heaven for him. He has his greedy maw unfastened and his tongue slurping all over, stickin’ into every orifice even deeper than he had before. “I worry- hngh! I just worry that I might-” But he still wanted more. Still had his neck craning up n’ down to take in everything you gave him. “-suffocate you if you go on like this.”

And it was a realistic concern- fuck, you were hovering your waist right now and still Toji wasn’t stopping to take a breath. Wasn’t even slowing down.

He’s burying himself nose-deep between your pussylips and letting his mouth do more stirrin’ than talking. And it’s only after a few more vulgar fucking strokes of his tongue, a few more swabs inside your pussy that he can even wrench himself away to answer you. “Ohhhh, I get it.” Tugging on your trembling thighs, “You think I can’t handle it, huh?”

“I didn’t say- oh, fuck-”

Without hesitation, Toji plants a rude slap on your pussy once more. Letting those glittering beads of slick splatter all over, “You think m’fucking weak?” He seethes, half-joking. But half-wanting. “Let me get one thing fuckin’ clear, doll.”

And you’re listening intently - because if he sensed you were becoming too far one on the way his tongue lavishly licks, then Toji would once again swat your cunt. Drawing your attention once more.

The fighter stares deeply into your hazed peripherals as he lets his lengthy tongue flop out. Slitherin’ that honed tip right in- “No matter what you weigh, I can bench press more than five of you.” And he gives your pussylips yet another sinful spank! “Now- fucking- sit.”

You’re being seated with an unceremoniously loud sluuuuurp.

Of his tongue stickin’ deep inside you, his upper lip practically glued to your clit. With you riding his face, Toji fills out every tiny geysering nook and cranny. Grazing every velvety bundle of nerves that makes you see stars.

“Oh- please-” He was just ruthless. As if you didn’t know whether to fuck back or run forwards, you’re jolting your hips sloppily up and down. Slick, needy drags to match his lapping tongue.

Again and again.

Slurp after squelch.

Before you know it, Toji wants more - needs more. Even having you on top of him like this, his mouth was ravenous. Licking. Leaning up from the pillows to let you ride his face; all the way from the curve of his chin n’ up to the tip of his straight nosebridge. 

As you come back down from one of these particular gyrations, Toji holds you still and - before you know it - you’re feeling the sensation of something elongated and thick entering your cunt.

“Sh-shit, that’s not your tongue…” You blink away the tears in your eyes and look downwards, where the protruding edges of his joints were stretching you intensely.

Two of them- even though it felt like four, with how big his fingers were.

As you wail n’ wobble on top of him, Toji crushes you to his mouth ferociously. And you marvel at the stretch that keeps you hostage - you can’t do anything but take it. But let your mouth fall ajar, and your head throw back, at the feeling of his probing thrusts.

Sultry tastebuds flickering over your clit- “Mmm, s’not my tongue- good catch, doll.” He snickers, “Thought that such a goooood pussy deserved a little something m-more-”

You catch the way that his dark brows furrow, a slight flush tinting what little you could see of his ears. “Wait- Toji, did you just stutter-”

“No the fuck I didn’t-” He’s snapping back. 

And in response, you’re having your gummy walls pummeled with some of the rudest jackhammers you’ve ever felt in your entire life. Oh, he’s just swabbing his fingerpads in so deep, mouth pursing to spit against your entrance once more n’ lick it all up. 

Letting himself salivate. 

Toji drools down a waterfall of your slick, his fingers tuggin’ apart your tight hole to squeeze-squeeze-squeeze in a third finger. “Don’t make me lose focus now.” Grumbling from underneath you, the fighter pins you down with a big, beefy arm wrapped ‘round your waist. Tight. You’re in awe of his sheer inhuman strength. “Don’tcha remember? I’ve gotta- ngh- win tomorrow, n’ this pretty pussy is the key to it, mama. So let me focus alllll my attention on h-her…”

You gasp, “So you did stutter-” And soon enough, you feel yourself growing even wetter at the implication that the strong, cocky Toji Fushiguro was so pussydrunk right now that he was slurring his words.

Gone on your cunt. The way you clenched ‘round his rovering fingers- oh. 

And, of course, Toji wasn’t complaining about the fact that you were soaking yourself even more. Only gaping his maw further open, “Mmm, tch-” His fingers pull out with a squelch to spank the front of your core, “-these lips are much nicer t’me.”

“Hey—” You huff, “Just because I got you all ngh- pussydrunk doesn’t mean- oh fuck!”

“What were you saying—?” And then he’d bullied in four fingers - four. Four entire, long digits- he ends off by hitting his mountainous knuckles against your folds with a smack! Smack after smack. Until the skin on his hands were rubbed all raw, Toji probes his fingers inside your cunt. “Oh yes, I think someone was talkin’ all big w’me. Do you know who that, mmm, might be?”

You shake on top of him, his cushy fingertips were glissading oh-so-close to your g-spot. With every rapid thrust, they inched in—“I-I don’t-”

“I see.” And then he’s rolling his tongue ruthlessly against your clit with a few wettened noises. “Do you know then?”

“What do you-”

“Shhh, not you.” Toji rolls his half-lidded eyes. And his vibratin’ words zap through your entire body - he always did make sure to lean in reeeeal close whenever he spoke, but right now, he was tracing his canines over your swollen clit and lightly gnawing. “M’talking to her- aren’t I?”

“F-fuuuck–!” Just then, he’s striking your g-spot. Thunderously. Just then, he’s realizing he did- and repeating the motion in quick, frenzied half-thrusts.

Barely even pulling properly to tease your elastic hole, barely even letting you register the way he bashes your bundle of nerves before he repeats the act. Toji was just vicious with how he batters in your poor cunt, “Yeah? Yeah yeah yeah- ya like that?” He spits, “Who’s stuttering now, mama? Got anythin’ else to say?”

You whimper, “Mm-mm-”

“Mhm, I knew she was chattier anyway.”

Talking to your pussy, Toji nods along like he’s part of the conversation. All those pretty, pretty sounds that he almost wishes he could record and listen to on loop.

So it was only a matter of time before he’s feeling the way your clampin’ walls reach a feverpitch, the way your damp noises only seem to get damper. 

And the fighter looks up at you with a glint of excitement in his partially-lidded eyes, “Oh, she’s close, doll.”

“How did you-” Your breath catches- fuck, he’s only accelerating his thorough pushes. The only thing you could register at this point was the perfect way he knew how to work your pussy, all those deepest, most fragile spots.

Quickly enough, those twinges of pleasure at the pit of your stomach are turning into waves. 

And you can feel your thighs tremor on top of him, struggling to support your body when your orgasm quakes. “Toji, m’close-” You tug on his sweaty hair, “I think m’gonna c-cum soon.”

“So cum on my face, then?” He answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Determined, you don’t even need to hold up your own self anymore - he’s doing so with one hand glued to the side of your hips, the other pressing and probin’ until you’re being fucked by both his mouth n’ his fingers- straight into your high.

Crash-landing into your orgasm, it takes you entirely by surprise.

You jerk your cunt against his mouth, and Toji groans with delight. Back arching. Toes curling. You close your eyes and see entirely white as the surge of euphoria takes over your body.

“Oh my- ngh, fuck. M’cumming, m’cumming m’cumming and it feels so good-” He’s just digging his veiny fingers against every sensitive ridge on your walls, just the way you liked. “Right there, keep going just like that, Toji.”

And usually this would be the point where he says something to tease you. The point where he says something to make you whine n’ try to shut him up with your bloated pussylips.

But he was fucking you so thoroughly through your high that he doesn’t even have the time for that anymore, doesn’t have the patience.

With his scarred lips smoochin’ away at your clit, Toji lets his plump fingertips hit your g-spot. Constantly. With those keen senses of his (honestly you blame the reflexes from MMA), he pinpoints the exact tempo of your high.

Every peak- he bashes in with a swat! at your bundle of nerves. Letting his mouth salivate all down your runny slit, drinking up every sip of your sweet, sweet juices. Like honey. “And you called me p-pussydrunk, heh.” Toji titters away, noticing the glazed look in your eyes. “As if you’re not the one gone on my tongue, doll. As if you’re not the one salivating all like that. As if you’re not the one with the pussy that’s fuckin’ ruined me- fuck.”

Both of you register what he’s said at the same time.

Toji with a sudden gasp, and you with a smug smirk. The strongest of your high has bated by now to nothing more than a few tingles, and you have half the mind to look down at him and ask. “So…ruined you, huh?”

“Sh-shut up.”

That pussydrunkness - oh, Toji Fushiguro was fighting against it. Trying not to cave in. But alas, he couldn’t be in denial any longer after your orgasm has ended, and you’re trying to pull off of his mouth- only for Toji to hold onto your thighs and chase after your cunt.

You whimper from overstimulation as he licks at your teary crevice a few more times, before you the pleasure is too much and you really have to push his sweaty crown away.

“Toji- ngh, m’sensitive.” You squeal, to which he grunts in nonchalance. Still addicted to tastin’ you. Realizing this, you finally huff, “If you let me go now, then maybe I wanna take a shot at- hah, paying you back…”

And that finally makes him pull off. With a raised brow, “Cheh, go easy on yerself- you can’t take me that easily.”

“Oh? Scared?”

“You wish.” 

In fact, there was a hint of challenge in Toji’s dazed eyes. In no time, you’re plopped off of his mouth with the most lecherous noise. Seated on the edge of the bed, he got off and tugged down on the flimsy fabric of his sweatpants.

Resting his fist on the dark curls at his base, you’re being introduced to Toji’s proud length.

Tanned. Rock-hard. 

Even larger than you’d imagined from all his…accidental erections during your sessions. Long. And he wasn’t lacking in the girth department, either - the plumpest tip, all covered in a layer of creamy pre. It dripped down the nozzle of his cockhead, n’ allllll the way down his shaft.

Body moving before your mind, you’re reaching out to grab at his tannish cock. The flatness of your thumb easily smears the lines of precum he was leaking out, letting them glide along the veins that decorated either side of his shaft.

So textured, you wondered how it would feel inside-

“So?” Toji grunts out from above you, peering down. You notice that he still has the remnants of your slick plastered all across his chin, mouth, all the way up to his cheekbones. Worn like some medallion. He sinks his fangs into his lower lip to stop from making too many needy noises as you inspected his sheer size, “Not too late to back out now, doll- heh- oh.”

You’re making him swallow that cocky laughter of his back.

Because in a few sultry split-seconds, you have your mouth pointed right above the divot on his shaft. Spitting. You let the dollop of spittle ooze down his shaft for a bit, before immediately taking his tip into your mouth.

Oh, he’s reaching for the roof of your mouth instantly.

So thick. So plump. You shut your eyes and groan at the salty-sweet taste that greets you, it’s surprisingly not unpleasant. 

And Toji lets off a low whistle at the slobbered display, “Oho?” Looking at you through his lashes, you stare up with doey, teary eyes and he feels himself throb at near the back of your throat. “Sh-shit- dooon’t fucking look at me like that. Oh, you know what you’re doing, woman.”

“Mmmpf-” You moan, your lips ‘round his sensitive slit. They send sinful vibrations that makes the larger man hiss.

“Fuck yeah, you do.” With a mean hand, the fighter grips onto the back of your scalp. Manhandling you slightly, “C’mon, doll. C’mon- let’s see if that slutty mouth o’ yours is just talk.”

And then he’s rutting slightly upwards - gently.

At least, for him. But for you, you’re clawing down the lines of his toned pelvis, struggling to catch your breath-

“Oh? Some claws on ya, girl. Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already? I haven’t even fucked ya dumb yet.” And he has the audacity to make that mocking pout again, “Y’know I’ve been fuckin’ my cock to the, mm, thought of you for months now. And- oh, fuck- keep doing that with your tongue—ngh.”

Your jaw aches, and yet you unhinge it even deeper to let the tip of your tastebuds trace patterns all across the line of his slit. All pinkish and slicked with precum.

He continues, “You wanna know a secret?” It was such a heavenly sight, watching you try to nod with Toji’s fat cock stuffed between your lips. Hell, you hadn’t even taken him all yet. “Right before you came here-” Leaning in, whispering. “-I was jerking my cock- oh-”

“Mhmm—?”

“-to your text, doll.”

Oh, fuck.

You’re plucking yourself off of Toji’s thick crown to gasp- but he doesn’t let you get too far before grabbing you with one hand at your throat. Lightly putting pressure at your sides, he’s crashing his lips onto yours.

“Mmm—” He groans against your lips, tasting you, tasting himself, tasting you. “Get on the middle of the bed, all fours. Wanna see if those other lips of yours are just talk, too.”

“They’re not.” You huff, but do as he says anyway.

Those overworked bedsprings creak as you both reposition yourselves: you on your hands and knees, your face pushed into one of the pillows, and Toji right behind you.

His rough hands bend your spine into a cute lil’ curvature, and then proceeds to bang the ends of his fingertips against your weepy pussy. “Easy there, mama.” Toji coos once you buck with a whimper, “Toji’s here n’ you just have to be my good girl and take it, alright?”

You’re nodding, “Just shut up and fuh-fuck me already.”

“Tut tut, greedy girl.”

But he’s doing as you say anyway - oh, he’d do anything you say, to be quite honest. You’re inching your needy cunt closer to where his erection was upright, and Toji holds onto the base of his cock to just slightly eeeeease his way in.

His plump, puckered tip pries apart your folds.

From his honed end, all the way down to where his cockhead swells, you’re feeling him stretch you wiiide open as he enters. “Oh my- fuck! You feel even bigger than you looked-”

“Why, thank you…heh.” And you swear you can feel his red-hot girth throb even bigger. Wider. Since Toji was rock-fucking-hard, you could sense any and every change in his size. “Now don’t run, alright?”

“Why would I-” You’re cutting your own self off, feeling him give the slightest half-thrust from behind. And it’s enough to make you lurch your hand out and grab onto one of the spindles of his headboard. “-oh- oh, I get it now.”

“Mhm—knew you’d wanna run, all talk.” Shaking his head and his shaggy strands, Toji had to have some extra, extra precaution, you see.

Just a warning wasn’t enough. So without further ado, his beefy forearm reaches out to hold tightly onto your neck. Squeezing either side of it, he feels the way your pulse thunders underneath his touch.

Throat strangled with spittle and whines. “Oh my god-” Even more so when he starts rutting his hips like an animal.

“Easy there, eeeeasy there.” He’s reassuring you from behind, as if his achingly hard cock wasn’t splitting you open incredibly. “S’just the tip, doll. You can take it- shhh, you can take it.”

“Whaddaya mean this is just the tip?” You gasp, feeling your body being pulled into his like a ragdoll. He manhandles you as if you’re nothing, constantly grinding your hips back against that scruffy happy trail of his.

“Well, just the tip aaaaand…” You’re quickly learning that whenever Toji elongates his words, he’s dragging out his thrusts, too.

Letting the thick, vein-covered length of his shaft gliiiide all across your walls and then right back. Baaaack and forth. Baaaack and forth. With a sensual pace, he’s inching his way in- the fat, bulbous end of his shaft acting like the headlight. Spearing. He snickers, “-an inch more. Two.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, and Toji’s lavish tongue careens out to lick at them deliciously. “A-and- oh, how much more is there?”

He casually leans his weight back to check, and the fighter’s greedy gaze gets stuck on the sight of your pussy suckin’ him up. Slurping him. 

It’s like your pussylips were stretched apart so widely and struggling to take his merciless pace- yet still clamping down, still glistening with wetness after each one of his rugged strikes. “Oh, just about two inches…three…four-” Toji whispers hotly against your ear, “Y’know what- how about I just tell you after you’ve taken all, mm, nine inches, doll?”

Nine inches?

Oh, you were done for.

You weren’t walking out of this very penthouse.

“Yeah, you’re not.” He confirms your thought- shit, you’d said that out loud. Just so dickmatized by the way his flared ridges were swervin’ all around your tight walls.

The curvaceous line of his cockhead nudges apart your channel, and you feel his hold tighten even further. “But the good news- you’re gonna take- ngh, my entire cock, won’t you?” Breathy. He was speeding up his cadence now. Long, thorough strokes. “Gonna take e-every single inch?”

“Yes-” You claw at the headboard, “Yes yes yes yes-”

And then rings the loudest squeeeelch ever as he’s fitting in a few more inches, “Mhmmm, and you’re gonna- ngh- love it.”

Both you and your sloppy pussy do - and he can tell.

All that arousal. All those cute noises you were making. You’re feeling the exact way the zig-zagged pattern of his veins massages your cunt, just perfectly scratching every carnal inch. And he’s almost bottoming-out, almost feeling his reddened tip hit the back of your pussy-

Before you clench around his rude cock—

And you hear the exact, shattered moment that Toji’s breath catches. “Oh fuck-” He stills, “Oh fuck, this won’t work-”

Blinking over your shoulder, “Toji?”

“Fuck.”

His bass cracks at the tail end of that profanity.

And in a mere instant - so fast that you don’t even have enough time to compute - you’re finding your head trapped in one of Toji’s infamous headlocks.

Sure, he’d often used it in a much less attractive way with his opponents.

But never had he used it like this. And you’re choking at the restraint of his flexing muscles, all bulged and big. His biceps digs perfectly against the front of your throat, and you feel your saliva come out in heaps- “Toji- Toji Toji Toji- oh, I can feel you hit my c-cervix.”

Sure enough, he’d dragged you back to bottom out.

The curvy tip of his shaft cutely bumpin’ your cervix, you feel a sticky layer of his precum drip out at the fact. Pulling back, back, baaaaack - right until his plump crown kisses your hole, and then all the way back in again.

In and out. In and out.

So thoroughly, he’s fucking his rock-hard cock into you. Leaving absolutely no hidden spot unturned, leaving your fuzzy brain in absolute shambles.

“You said- hah, you said I didn’t kiss you, right?” Toji rasps against the shell of your ear, his heated proximity making goosebumps run down your spine. And, honestly, at this point you can barely even remember the conversation that’d led up to him saying this. “Well, here I am now-”

“What you do…oh.”

His cock was hitting your cervix- smooching it. Hard, wettened kisses.

Over and over. Toji smashes you back against his pistoning hips, and with his other hand he’s sliding slithering a hand down to your pussy - spanking. “See? M’kissing her, too, now.” He’s tittering, so thoroughly proud of the way your mouth waters.

“That doesn’t cou-”

Smack!

“What was that—?”

The force of it is so pleasurable that your body automatically holds onto the headboard and tries to heave yourself upwards. Thrashing. To which Toji turns his beady eyes down at the futile escape route-

And immediately slams his hand down on the flat top of the headboard.

“Speak t’me, mama- what was, ngh, that?”

Splitting it straight down in two.

You gape stupidly at the way the bed frame easily cracks underneath his strength, and Toji’s taking the slight distraction as an opportunity to lean back onto his haunches. 

And he’s taking you right with him.

Toji’s sitting back on his heels, his buttocks resting on the balls of his feet. And you’re somewhat seated on his lap, still having him fuck upwards into you- with this position, he’s reaching his globular tip so deeply.

Even further than he ever had before, he wetly glissades his tip to pierce your womb. “Ngh- fuck.” Grunting in your ear, “You can’t tell me that doesn’t count, doll.” So he did know what you were about to say. 

Stirrin’ up your goopy insides, he feels like velvet inside. And you think he’s slowly molding your cunt to his exact size, every line of his vein, every inch. “See? One kiss.” Toji counts out, and immediately you’re feeling his cocktip swipe your cervix. Thudding. “Two kisses.” Another one. “Three kisses-”

Four. 

Five.

Six.

Seven- it’s on this one that his glistening wet tip manages to locate your g-spot. Since his shaft was more right-leaning, it was oh-so-easy for him to constantly glide down that one spot.

“E-eight-” You count out, by yourself.

And if you could see him right now, you’d have noticed the way that Toji’s predatory eyes widened with pleasant surprise. Oh, you were cockdrunk. He holds you down to him, “Oho? You can count it by yourself now, huh? Then- haaaah, how about- this?”

“Nine-” You blurt out, saliva sploshin’ down the entire front of your chin. “Ten- ngh, eleven.”

“That was actually twelve, but close enough.” He rolls his eyes - he couldn’t punish you too much for that, just a few sodden spanks at the forefront of your cunt. And that was it, really. He’d decided to go easy on you this time, really. Now for him to smoothly shovel his shaft into you, until you were idly reaching your second orgasm of the night.

Hah- as if.

After two slaps to your clit, the fighter edges himself close to your ear and mutters out. “If you can’t do that- could you at least, mm, fuck back into me.”

You whine, “Do I have to? But you do it so good…”

“Spoiled brat.” Yet another swat down on your slit, he caresses your clit as if making up for it. And before long, you’re feeling the spearheading tempo of his cock slow down. “C’mon now- up! There we go- get to work, doll.”

“Mmpf- you’re gonna pay for this.” You growl, doing your very best to try and get your legs to work. They’d been taking it for so long, limp at the pressure, that your hamstrings were positively screaming now. “Shit- but I wanna go faster, oh.”

Toji rolls his eyes with a scoff, “So go faster, girl. What’s the hold up?”

“It just feels so- so- oh.” It just felt so good is what you wanted to say - but you don’t sputter out the words right at that moment (you didn’t want to feed his ego too much). 

“So so oh?” He mocks, “Didn’t I say this pretty pussy of yours was- oh, chattier? Think she might just be more articulate, too- heh.”

“Sh-shut up.”

And as if to prove a point, your sloppy drags only made your cunt echo out even louder. The skin on your ass cheeks burned after each slam against his hips, and Toji was just so ripped that every rut left the indentations of his v-line stinging.

“Ngh- fuck.” You arch your back and attempt to slide down his thick cock easier, rubbin’ that part of your g-spot against where his veins were most prominent. 

You hated to admit it, but your limbs were growing all weary. And Toji lets out a huff of breathy laughter as he noticed the way your cadence seemed to be slowing down, “Mmm, feelin’ tired, are we? You’re not tapping out any time soon, m’kay?”

“But- but I’m so-” You whine, your fingers fisting in the silk bedsheets. They seemed to be the expensive type, yet ruined with a damp layer of sweat n’ slick. Soon enough, you’re dropping to the bed with a weary mewl. “-shit, I don’t know if I can go any longer-” 

You don’t even get to finish your sentence.

You don’t even get to finish the lone, sloppy thrust that you were stumblin’ across

Not before Toji’s then taking over. He gets up off his haunches, pushing you rudely onto all fours again. 

And this time? He wasn’t holding back.

“Allll that talk- cheh.” Toji’s spitting down at your pussy, lubricating it once again despite you not even needing it. Before long, you’re being pounded by his long, heavy cock- feeling every single inch in your throat. “But your Toji just has to finish this pretty pussy off, hm?”

“Yes- yes-” You don’t even feel slightly embarrassed in admitting, “Jus’ wanna cum, Toji- ngh, I’m so close.”

“Oh, mama, I know.” Two rugged pads of his fingers come down to slap your clit, smoothing it over with a few gentle rolls. But you’re so far gone at this point that even that makes you see stars- “And you’re gonna cum allll over my- hah, cock, alright? All over.”

Nodding pathetically, you were just drippin’ in spit and sweat. Body shaking with the pangs of pleasure already- “All over b-but you then you have to cum right in here, okay?”

His breath catches, “Wh-where?” Toji stutters.

Blissfully ignorant, you point down the front of your stomach. Drawing a line right where you could feel his rotund tip bottoming out after every thrust, “I don’t think m’gonna last that long.”

“Oh.”

There was something broken in his voice as he registers what you were just telling him with your actions - that you wanted him to finish inside. To pump you so full of cum that it’ll drip out of you. To make sure you feel him from the outside and the inside.

He’s fucking you so hard that the skin ‘round his pelvis had begun to rub raw, slightly overstimulating his tip against the softness of your cunt. Toji pushes down on your body, pinning you down with his weight.

Manhandling you.

So much manhandling.

In this mean doggy position, he leans down and pinches your clit. “Oh, doll, you can’t even imagine what m’gonna do to ya-” Ruined. Shattered baritone. “-don’t even know how far m’gonna fill you up with my cum. You’re gonna be- ngh, overspilling.”

“Yes yes yes- I want it.” And now you’re gyrating your hips back into his- hah, he could almost tease you for it. So you had the desperation now? “Please- give it t’me-”

“Nuh uh, you have to cum first.”

“But- ngh.” A pinch at your clit, a puckering kiss. And Toji hits your g-spot so hard that you swear you see the pearly gates of heaven: you’re cumming.

Wave after wave of your white-hot high.

The pleasure thrums in your veins, and you’re crying out as Toji hits every precious spot with his globular tip. Pinpointed precisely. Your knees weaken- you were mistaken earlier, this was the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

He’s not too far behind.

With a grunt, Toji cums. And after every riveting peak of your high, he’s pourin’ out in sticky wads of cum. It’s like an ivory sap that takes over every inch of your insides, hot and wet.

You squeal as you feel the gluey layer of it stuff you to the brim, ultimately ending up formulating a ring of white around the girth of his hilt. “Cumming-” You blabber tearily, your brain foggy with the feeling of him cumming inside you. Turning around to face him, “I’m c-cumming, Toji.”

“Mmm, you are. So pretty takin’ my- ngh, cum.” Toji’s rough lips kiss down the line of your spine, and his fingers dip from your clit to tease your creamy slit. “I love this view.”

The more he’s swiping away the droplets of cum that pour out of your pussy, the more that keeps sprinkling out - and he honestly doesn’t know whether that’s his fault or yours.

Letting the treacly glaze drip down to his wrist, Toji brings his sticky hand up to your mouth. “Spread those lips f’me, doll- yeahhh, like that.” He murmurs, thickly. And you whimper as he sticks his adhesive-like fingertips into your mouth, making you suck on the salty sap. 

Cleaning it off.

It feels like years - almost like eons - until Toji’s finally finished riding out his high, just as strong as yours. He hunches over as he cums-

“Oh, we’re not done y-yet, doll.” Too soon, you’re being dragged back into his hulking body. And since he was finally done with webbing up your insides, now came the fun part where he was fucking it in. Each n’ every gooey wad seeped into your innards. Those earlier specks that’d leaked out from before? Well he’s using his fingers to push those in, too. “You didn’t think that a world-class fighter had a stamina that low, did ya?”

Gasping, you don’t think you can trust your very eardrums right now. “So you mean to say…”

“Mhm.” Toji’s fucking you into utter stupidity- easily flipping you over, you’re being folded into the sloppiest mating press in existence. He mutters to you as he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending you down. “Y’know…MMA championships have five rounds.”

“Oh- and?”

Toji just grins, drilling out a heavy thrust. “One down, four to go, mama.”

.

.

.

“Wow! That was a mean right hook, I definitely wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that strength.” You bite back a grin at the commentator’s voice—oh, how you knew. “Toji Fushiguro sends Naoya Zenin flying–”

You can’t bring yourself to wince as the two-tone-haired man lands on the other side of the octagon with a shuddering thud.

Too excited from your seat in the cageside area - the closest you could be to the fighters - as part of the team. It was your first time officially accompanying Toji to one of his big fights, as his physical therapist.

And his lover.

Though, that part was a secret (more or less, you swear you’d seen most of the gym giving you knowing looks whenever you clocked into work walking a little funny, or whenever Toji had sauntered into the locker room; hickies, nail marks, and all). But for now you settled into your role as the alert physical therapist, watching out for any points in which Toji showed signs of discomfort or soreness.

“Can you hear the crowd- they’re in uproar!”

“Well, it’s no wonder. Toji Fushiguro’s comeback has been long-awaited- ouch, that’s a nice uppercut from Toji.” Another voice bellows.

And the others hum in agreement. “And after his unfortunate streak last year, the champion found his footing once more. With a winning streak that’s one of the longest recorded in recent years, the man is unstoppable!”

“I guess the million dollar question of the night is - can he win the finals tonight?”

Though your efforts were likely for naught, because your boyfriend was at the top of his game.

Without letting Naoya even get up (some rookie hotshot, according to Toji, who had to be put in his place), the older man is pummeling him with a right hook, left hook, right hook, left hook. Until that cocky face of his looked mangled.

And the referee is rushing to his side- about to crouch on the floor for the countdown. The commentators have their announcement of his win on the tip of their tongue. The crows is already reaching a fever point-

It’s in that moment that Toji looks at you.

Towering, the lone fighter standing in the middle of the cage, he stares.

He smiles.

He points.

“Aaaaand the countdown is over—Naoya Zenin down! Toji Fushiguro has won the title of world light heavyweight champion once more! It’s a historical win for Toji!”

You’re all on your feet. The team claps each other on the back, the commentators are shaking hands. Shiu catches the way that Toji immediately heads for you - barely waiting till the heavy golden belt was draped across his body, barely letting the referee raise his hand in the air. Victory.

And he chuckles, “I already knew.” Taking a celebratory drag of his cigarette, “Guess I’m winning the bet.”

Your eyes bulge, “You guys bet on us?”

“Ever since the first day you walked in, sugar.” He chuffs, and lightly nudges your shoulder with his. “No go to him- before he tears down the cage, that is.”

Shiu was right to be worried. By the time you’re reaching the edge of the octagon, Toji has already jumped down from it- and you’re barely registering his brilliant grin before you’re in his arms. His face crushed into the nook of your neck. Arms looped around your waist.

In the distance, it seems, you can hear reporters and fans alike scream questions about you and your relationship. Something you’re sure will end up on every headline and front page of those sports gossip magazines that you now read. Hell, you can even hear the members of your team catcall and howl from the sidelines. 

But right now, it’s as if Toji’s voice is the only sound in your ears. “We won.”

You smile, “You won.”

He shakes his head, “Come off it, silly girl. We won.” And even in front of everyone else, even in front of the cameras, he nods down at the very obvious bite marks on your neck. The way your knees were slightly weak. Your core was slightly sore. Evidence of last night. “And m’gonna win a whole lot more tonight-”

“Five rounds just like this championship, then?” You tease, squirming in his strong arms. And he only pulls you even tighter to him-

“Actually, I hear the IMMAF is trying to make it six rounds…”

A/N. Listen I don’t condone J*o J*ekyung but Toji?? Gimme.

Even more gorgeous than you’d been during those brief formal interviews, between clans and council members who nudged each other at the fact that he had finally chosen a bride. 

You’d swapped out your wedding robes for an actual robe that was much…riskier. Stuck to your skin, glistening in the faint candlelight. You were semi-sprawled comfortably across the bed, having patiently waited for their ‘team meeting’ to have finished. 

And Sukuna would’ve yelled at any of them for gaping stupidly from the doorway, he should have - if he wasn’t gaping stupidly himself, that is. Lips parted, crimson eyes bulging. 

This was the clan leader rumored by some to be a monster, and rumored by others to fight like a monster: now fully frozen at the sight of you. 

It takes about seven different council members and Itadori Wasuke poking Sukuna’s muscular back with his wooden cane to make him move. “Ryo-” Jin hisses in slight concern, fingers starting to itch towards his phone, namely in the sequence of the emergency number he’d memorized for tonight. “Ryo move- you- oaf-” 

Respect for the head of the household be damned, they were deadset on bullying him inside the romantically-decorated room. Finally making him move one foot. Two. 

As soon as he staggers through the entrance, the towering mahogany doors then slam shut behind him. Somewhat snapping Sukuna out of his little reverie - somewhat. He shakes his head free of that vision of you, gaze dropping to the floor- anywhere but where you were sitting, so beautiful and unbothered. 

An heir.

Right, an heir. What was that nonsense about six heirs? Right now, he felt he’d be lucky to get to not faint.

“I uh-” You lean closer with a smile when he starts to sputter out, and the act itself nearly makes him take a step back. Heart rushing to the surface of his tattooed skin, “Ah, I mean-”

He gulps. And almost as if they were sensing the tension inside the bedroom, the group outside abruptly starts up the distant saxophone of a George Michael. It filters through the slight gaps of the doorway and into the thick silence inside. 

You were looking at him with a raised brow, clearly waiting for him to speak first with his interesting reaction.

Which is exactly what Ryomen Sukuna does - exactly why he clears his throat gravely. All seven feet of his figure straightening, toned chest puffing out. Jin had told him to smile before he smoldered, and right now Sukuna does neither. Only asking in grim seriousness-

“So are you uh…open-minded?”

“What?”

“What?”

BANG!

He’d removed himself from the honeymoon suite before you could even blink. 

And as you sat up on the bed in genuine confusion, the clan leader outside - your husband - was crouched against the now-closed bedroom doors. Knees to his pecs, all four palms coming up to cover his face- though, they do nothing to hide the scorching red flushed at the tips of his ears. 

The elders can only gawk; they’d known Sukuna since birth, and never had he acted in this manner. Never had he been so flustered, blushed so bright that it looked like he was steaming from his very skin. Flinching at the touch of his brother, he groans once the older one starts punting him with questions.

Jin squawks, “Is your wife okay- are you okay?”

“Yes- no.”

“Do I need to call the fire department?”

“No.”

“The exorcist-”

“No no no- fuck! She was just so…” Sukuna finally manages to string together more than one coherent syllable, running his hefty fingers down his features, like he wanted to scrub the embarrassment off of him. And the tail end of his response rings out as nothing but a whisper. So small, so shy. “…beautiful.”

He looks up at the circle surrounding him like he was pleading, “So, so beautiful.” Baritone dropping into an even lower volume, he scratches the back of his head like a child recounting a crush. “And she- she smiled at me, heh. What’d I do to end up with a wife like her?”

The elders and family members look at each other. 

Silence.

At least, as much silence as you could get in the Itadori Estate. Because, before long, Wasuke clutches his aged heart and gasps, “No!” Only once every pair of eyes has turned to look at him- “My son has no game.”

The emergency services were called that night. 

Though, it’s more for a health check on his father’s heart than for anything gone wrong with your honeymoon. And Jin thinks that’s pointedly to do with the fact that you don’t have a wedding night - at least, not in the sense of the word. 

After he’d offered Sukuna a general health check-up too (he’d vehemently denied) and a heart check-up in particular (he’d considered) you’d finally ended up walking out of the bedroom. Barely getting through one word of their overlapping explanations before you’d held up a hand. 

“It…actually might be better if I don’t know.” You’d sagely remarked, and quite smartly. Before turning to your new husband, who’d all but cowered at your gaze, “But you need to get some sleep, mister. Don’t think I don’t know about how cranky you get otherwise.”

“Hell yeah, ma’am. So true, ma’am.”

And Sukuna had sauntered back into the marital suite of his own accord, for a night of sleep. Nothing but sleep - though, Jin thinks he caught Sukuna fist pumping in celebration when you insisted he didn’t have to sleep on the couch.

There seemed to be no hope for an heir that night. Or, ever, at this rate.

And the trusty council of elders that were present would later retell the story in the morning after, with varying degrees of humor - some cackling about the fearsome head’s one weakness, others grieving the lack of heirs that the Itadori clan shall now have.

But most had been left with quite a different impression. They eyed each other during breakfast, when you’d come down with no marks, no signs of lost sleep. Surely, there was no other explanation - Ryomen Sukuna was impotent. 

He might not be the sweetest clan leader, or the most empathetic, or clearly the most savvy with the ladies, but he was their leader nonetheless. 

And they had to do everything in their power to help.

.

.

.

“-and then the ol’ man starts playing fuckin- I mean, freaking ‘Careless Whisper’ and then I make a fool of myself-”

“Mhm.”

“-but she was oh-so-sweet about it. Which makes no sense, how can one be beautiful and sweet? I mean, look at me- I’m a right bastard-”

“Mhm.”

“-not that I’m complaining. And then when we shared the bed, heh, she told me ‘goodnight.’ Can you believe that? Goodnight? Obviously, she’s into me.”

“Mhm.” Five-year-old Itadori Yuji looks up from where he’d been playing with blocks on the archery dojo, “Uncle Kuna, can we go play hide-and-seek now?”

But the older man lets go the taut, tough string of his bow- hitting the bullseye of his target dead-on. “You’re right! She’s totally into me- heh, ten points for Sukuna.” It was already nearing sundown, and he’d been cooped up in the Estate’s dojo for hours after the fiasco that was his wedding night a few days ago. 

Nothing else had occurred between the two of you since. For which he was equally as grateful as he was disappointed - obviously you didn’t want to spook him. And obviously he wanted you.

But it wasn’t his fault he’d been trained in the arts of commandeering rather than communication. 

Which is how he found himself with that lil’ nephew of his as a therapist, shooting away arrows with the specialized bow designed for Sukuna’s four beefy arms, and fourfold strength. As if that would help ease the tension.

The clan leader opens his mouth again and it’s enough to make Itadori throw himself back onto the polished wooden floor. Starting off- “And did I tell you that when she told me ‘goodnight’ it was in a tone of like-”

“Ahem.”

If there was anything that could make big, bad Sukuna quieten down, then it certainly wasn’t his advisors, or his older brother, or anything else but you. 

And all you had to do was clear your throat once to signal your intrusion, having wandered your way through the massively sprawling Estate. You’d somehow led yourself straight to him.

You bow politely, “I hope I’m not disrupting.”

“C-course not.” To your surprise, your husband speaks first. “We were just-”

“Talking about you-” You giggle as Itadori instantly runs to cling onto your arms. Excitedly squealing at a mile a minute, “Uncle Kuna says that- that he has a huuuuge crush on you and-”

“No!” Sukuna interjects in panic- that traitor. 

“And- and he liked the way you say ‘goodnight’ and-” 

“Itadori Yuji, I will pay you to stop talking.” 

You’re watching the situation like a tennis match, and Yuji does stop - for about three seconds, that is. Until his voice drops into a conspiratorially low whisper, hands cupping his mouth- “Did you know he also called an exorcist-”

“What the f- I did not?” Husky bass damn near cracking, he rips the little boy away from you. “Scram, gremlin.”

Pushing at his back to make the toddler waddle away and give the two of you some space, Sukuna hastens to straighten up and puff his chest out. Making sure that the loose fabrics of his training yukata would slip aside to flash you with a sliver of his toned pecs, glistened with a thin layer of sweat. 

And when - only when - he catches your eyes dipping downwards, he clears his throat—smooth, Ryomen Sukuna. You’ve made people disappear, you can do smooth- “H-hi.”

His vocals crack.

Nearly passing out from the shame - but you don’t seem to mind. “Hi to you, too. I see you’re working hard?”

“Yeah- I mean no.” As you raise a brow, “Who needs ta work hard when you’re just good?”

“Is that so?” It’s a blatant brag, but one that didn’t go unsubstantiated. Your eyes drift to the side to where targets had been lined along the distant wall, each of them punctured right through the middle with a sharp arrow. “Oh, that’s impressive. I don’t think I could ever-”

“Would ya like to try?”

You’re nearly as shocked as Sukuna at the words that escape his mouth, before he can mull and chew over them first. But that swiftly melts into a look of eagerness once you nod- being handed his hefty bow.

“It’s heavier than normal.” Before you know it, he’s sidled up behind you. Leaned down so close that his warm breath blankets your neck- pointed chin hitting somewhere by your temple, tense core pushed up against you. 

So close. Easily, two of Sukuna’s hands help you hold the weight of his massive bow, and another two fall down to your waist to guide you. “Easy there, mama.”

“Th-thank you-” You’re find yourself stammering from the pure intimacy. And it was just so unfair how pliable he found you - heart racing, mind spinning at the thought - angling you bodily to face the targets. “So I just pull and release, then?”

“Mhm. You pull reeeal hard.” Deep, throaty. You’re noticing just how warm his hands were when they’re on yours, helping you pull, pull, pull back on the feathery edge. “Breathe in reeeeal slow.” You do, and you feel him match yours. “Position it.”

His honed strength helps you find the target, and his hands- oh, but his hands were nearly making you lose sight of the bullseye. “Aaand-” Two of his rough palms draaaagging down your sides for stability for him to tower over you, and then two more gently rubbing over your hands for reassurance as you- “-shoot.”

Schwing–!

It lands dead-center in the bullseye.

He grins, “Hell yeah.” 

“Yes!” You’re hissing, bow still in your arms as you leap into Sukuna’s. It was a brief embrace, just the quickest few seconds - but your husband nearly melts.

With your face tucked into the crook of his neck- his eyes nearly bulge out of his sockets, four massive palms hovering in the air like he didn’t know what to do with himself. In a flash, you’re reaching ‘round your body to let him rest them on your back, and he gasps, “O-oh-”

“Oh?” With a slight chuckle, you pull back, and he nearly whines in agony. But this was the Ryomen Sukuna, of course he can hold it back…to merely a slight grunt of pain. “Thank you for teaching me.”

“Thank you for being my wife-”

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind- I uh-” All four palms come up to cover his face in utter horror- it had been going so well if it wasn’t for the clan leader’s big mouth. Everyday was seemingly an unfortunate reminder that he was related to the blabbermouths that were Jin, Yuji, and…

Speaking of, where was Yuji?

Little did he know that a certain pink-haired toddler was holding a certain group of elders hostage behind the screens that led to the dojo’s entrance. Their bodies, formerly leaned over the doorway to spy on the couple, were now crouched on the floor. 

Disappointed- how could their revered clan leader not take the bait? Impotency strikes again.

But, right now, the masterminds were slightly more occupied with something else. Fingers to mouths, voices in whispers- begging the little boy standing in front of them to remain quiet.

But Yuji only smiles, standing proudly in front of them. He whispers, “Do you wanna play hide and seek?”

The council of the greatest minds in the household look at each other, “Uh…no?” Unsure of what else to say to the boy.

Before their ears are pierced by the most noisy child-like shriek of Sukuna’s name—“Uncle Kunaaaaa—it’s the exorcists!”

An arrow shoots their way. And by the way it strikes precisely into the wooden panels between the elders’ heads, precisely where it didn’t harm anything but their motivations, their egos, and perhaps slightly their heart conditions - they’re guessing it was their loving clan leader that shot it.

.

.

.

Sukuna always did hate stuffy clan meetings.

The ones where documents were piled into columns taller than himself, council men and women spoke over each other to try and earn his attention, and he had to act for hours like he actually tolerated the guest invited that day. All in the name of ah- politics, or whatever. 

And today was much the same - except for one shocking, sudden surprise. You. 

You, seated directly opposite him on the large round table now that you were officially part of the clan. You, perfectly positioned for him to take in every pretty inch of you. You, who he’d give anything just to have beside him and chatting his ear off, or helping with his papers.

And, honestly, with a view like that he wouldn’t even complain about being forced to discuss- what was it again-

“The socioeconomic impacts of clan bonding activities and how they-” Choso - who’d recently started attending for education on the clan - drones in such tired monotone, shrugging at their two-toned guest, Zenin Naoya, without looking up from where he was doodling on some contract. “-could really benefit from those.”

“Tch- don’t talk like I didn’t know that, brat.” Sukuna narrows his eyes down at his eldest nephew.

Only to get a withering eyebrow raise in return, “Well, did you?”

“Yes…” No-

And almost as if he could read the pure lie on his uncle’s face, the middle-schooler has the audacity to put his pencil down and grin. More interested in the happenings of the meeting than he had been in four hours now. “Oh really? Well then, dear uncle of mine, would you care to explain to your nephew who comes up with these bonding activities?”

“The fuck do I look like? Stupid? It’s…Jin.” It was a guess, no one else would do something like that. He turns his face away from Choso and towards you. Politely laughing at something that the person next to you had said-

“And why is it important?”

He grumbles, this damn kid. Absent-mindedly- because oh, how was he expected to focus when your lips move to talk so prettily. As if in slow motion, like in those sappy movies Jin loved. “Uh, socio-something or the other-”

“And what do we hope to get out of today?”

“Erm-” Furrowing his brows, laser-focused on wracking his brain when- you turn his way. All you have to do is look at him for Sukuna to blurt- “Six kids, a summer house, and pets of her choice.” 

In stunned silence, Choso only gravely draws a tally count. 

You: 3

Sukuna: -478

“Oi- I’m at least in the double digits-”

“I think you have bigger things to worry about.” He muters, jabbing a pencil in your direction. “Your wife’s about to get stolen.”

And oh.

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t take kindly to snapping his head over and recognizing that slight glint in Naoya’s eyes; the way his mouth curled up meanly, body leaning just a tad closer to yours whenever you pulled back. Not kindly at all. 

Worst of all, he’d just been hit with the realization that it was that rat bastard who’d been making you laugh while he’d been stuck with duties. 

Simply on opposite ends of the room, and yet, it feels like an eternity until the hulking clan leader rises from his seat. Feet pounding their way over to where you were, your eyes raise instantly-

“Oh, there you are.” You start to smile - only for it to falter, coldly, at the shadowed expression on Sukuna’s face. He looked like he’d just seen a raging ghost, and his expression was downturned as such. 

You couldn’t pinpoint whether it had been the stress or the fact that the future heir to the Zenin clan couldn’t take a hint. But you’re trying to soothe him, “You looked quite busy-”

“I was, ah-” He was always weak to anything you said, “-bonding…activities…socioeconomics.”

Sarcastically, “How riveting.”

“No need to worry, I kept her company, though.” An annoying, grating voice bursts through your bubble. And before you can do anything to stop him, Naoya has his arm thrown ‘round the back of your seat. Around the room, one by one, the elders were starting to turn in their own chairs. Discussions dropping to whisper- “And my father always does commend my networking skills, clan leader Sukuna.”

And you think Sukuna might burst. You think he might just rip into him-

But, no. Instead, he breaks out into a smile, “Ah, young master Zenin, huh? Didn’t notice ya there.” A smile that was just slightly jarring, slightly…dangerous. “I see you have met my wife. Quite charming, isn’t she?”

“Yes yes, quite beautiful.” Naoya waves off with a chuckle, elbowing the taller man where he could reach. Huffing, “Though, I must say, it’s quite smart to let the wife inside a clan meeting. Gives you something to look at, at least.”

You seethe, brows furrowing, “Pardon-” But your husband already has a hand signalling you to seat yourself back down comfortably. A commotion was starting to stir by now, and if anyone was going to make a mess of clan politics and reap the consequences, it would be him.

He could and would take the fall for you.

“Young master Naoya.” He declares in a booming voice, “The Itadori clan has decided that we would so ah- love to indulge you in a practical example of our very own bonding activities.”

As you tilt your head in slight confusion - this certainly wasn’t part of the meeting agenda, and the council seemed to notice it, too, Naoya hums. “Oh?”

“Right now. You’re welcome.”

“What? Now? But-” 

As the lanky man scrambles in his seat, Sukuna grasps the very back and topples Naoya right out of it. “No no, let me.” And all it takes is one hand to lift their guest straight into midair and march him out of the room. 

The door slams shut behind the duo.

And you didn’t need to hear the yelps, or the punches, or the begs for mercy to know exactly what your husband had in mind as a ‘bonding activity.’ 

It seemed the member of the Zenin clan would be leaving here bruised for his words, and it seemed that the elders were strangely…excited at the notion? Buzzing impatiently, tittering to each other. 

It only increases twofold as Sukuna re-enters the meeting hall - knuckles suspiciously bruised, and notably without a pompous heir behind him - and you find yourself fighting back a smile. Muttering some half-hearted lecture about treating guests well, which he seems to lap every word of, you end it off by reaching upwards and kissing the side of Sukuna’s cheek. 

Fleeting and innocent.

But the elders gasp-

“Oh my god- oh my god, it’s happening—”

“My money’s on a girl child being the firstborn-”

“-maybe he’s only half-impotent-”

Keen eardrums catching the whispers and congratulations, you only have the time to catch the tips of his cheekbones smearing bright red - before the clan leader stumbles back out of the meeting room.

“Oh, I think I jinxed it-”

Choso, meanwhile, crinkles his nose and reaches for his eraser and pencil once more. 

Sukuna: -477

“Gnarly.”

.

.

.

“Uncle Kuna—-!” It was inevitable that every single person inside of Yuji’s cute lil’ kindergarten would end up knowing when his father wouldn’t be able to pick him up, and his uncle would arrive instead.

For one, it was all he would talk about the day beforehand. And two, they’d all hear his shrill squeal- except, most students and teachers used to this little ritual were probably shocked at the scream that followed after. “Mama—!”

And you were just as caught off-guard. 

Somewhere, in the distant bushes at the very end of the kindergarten playground, a few elders and Itadori Jin fistbump one another. All those lessons, not gone to waste!

“Ah- Yuji?” You’re fighting the way your voice wobbles in surprise, and it felt like a tiny cannonball had been shot at you with the way he runs straight to you. “What did you say, baby?”

Somewhat confused, two large eyes peak up at you. And his voice is tiny, “Mama?”

Ruffling the curly pink locks of Yuji’s hair, you just-so-happen to glance at the boy’s uncle. Your husband. Who was currently steaming from his ears and flushed bright crimson, veins bulging at his forehead, mouth opening and closing stupidly. “I- you- who-”

He was speechless.

Barely even breathing- honestly, you’re hit with the slight urge to reach forwards and feel for Sukuna’s pulse before a calm voice breaks through. “Ah! I see Yuji’s favorite uncle is here today.” A soft, bowl-cut man claps his hands as he walks up. Your eyes drop down to his nametag and read ‘Haibara.’ “And you must be-”

“My wife-” Sukuna spits out, before another word can leave Haibara’s mouth. “My wife, Jin could never pull anyone like-”

“Excuse my husband.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With yourself properly introduced - this time with names - you find yourself laughing along to one of Haibara’s anecdotes of Yuji, something to do with a dare and attempting to eat a terribly finger-shaped stick. He smiles breezily at you and hums, “He’s a good kid, and seems to be very fond of you. You should come visit more often.”

“Well, I hope to.” Grinning right back, you squeeze Yuji’s squirming body as Sukuna takes off his tiny back-pack. And you can’t help but think that it all felt so…domestic. 

Evidently, the cozy atmosphere had been obvious. Haibara ponders out loud, “Forgive me for asking, but do the two of you plan on having children soon? You seem like you’d be wonderful parents.”

Oh, you look at Sukuna. And Sukuna doesn’t meet your eyes, though, with his face turned straight ahead- what you could see was the way the tips of his ears were slowly starting to redden.

It seems like ages, it seems like he was waiting for your answer just as Haibara innocently was. And your mouth opens-

“Mister Haibawa, Yuji’s uncle can’t be a parent, he’s already an exorcist.” What the f—the trio of adults snapped their heads down to see that a black-haired boy - another Zenin, confound it - had just tugged on his teacher’s sweater. Butting into the conversation- Sukuna thinks he could recall this boy’s name, something Gummy? Megumi?

“Oh?” Then it wasn’t an orange-haired girl on his other side, “My mommy says he’s unemployed.”

“That, too.”

Somewhere, in the distant bushes at the very end of the kindergarten playground, a few elders and Itadori Jin facepalm. All those lessons, gone to waste!

“Well I don’t think he can be a parent because he looks stupid.” This time, one burly boy with a buzzcut enters the scene. And he was sparing no punches, both metaphorically and literally - he knocks out a good few backhands against Sukuna’s core. 

“That, too.”

“He doesn’t look stupid, Todo.” His nephew whines at him- that’s his boy! 

Sukuna could almost shed a tear, oh, how proud he was. So proud, in fact, that he’s hoisting the babbling boy over his shoulders without a second thought. 

Maybe Jin hadn’t completely failed as a father, after all. Maybe the boy wasn’t a hopeless case and had actually come to appreciate the strong, kind parental figure that was his uncle- “He just looks sorta stupid when he thinks he’ll embarrass himself in front of his wife. Because he does that a lot. That’s all.”

“Like the time with the exorcist.” Megumi nods, sagely.

“Like the time with the exorcist.” Yuji agrees, smacking the top of Sukuna’s head. 

“There- there was no time with the exorcist.” The clan leader tries to clarify to an extremely confused Haibara. 

And the girl - Nobara, according to the nametag on her glittery back-pack - points up at him, accusing. “I like his hair. He also can’t be a parent because he wears wigs.”

Sukuna growls, “You’re just jealous, bob-cut-”

You furrow your brows, “Do you wear wigs?”

“No.”

Yuji giggles, “Will you wear wigs?”

“No-”

“When will you wear wigs?” 

“Never!” Honestly, children these days. He damn near pounces on Haibara, who’d asked that last question.

Megumi - honestly what was this kid’s problem - seems to pipe up for the sake of piping up, “And he steals candy from babies.”

“That was one time-”

“Hey hey-” Without warning, Todo was tugging on Sukuna’s trousers to gain his attention. Snickering as the older man looks down with the most weary face in existence, “You wanna learn how to actually impress fine shyt?”

“What is…fine sh-”

“That’s enough for today. I think.” Their teacher claps his hands, “And Todo Aoi what have I told you about using certain words? Don’t think I won’t have a talk with your guardian again, young man.” Flustered, he throws an apologetic look your way before corralling his tiny students inside. “Now- inside!”

You can finally breathe a sigh of relief - finally, finally. 

Though, you don’t know what bewilders you more - the fact that they listen, or the fact that Todo was the only one that didn’t. And it was all because of the fact that he had Ryomen Sukuna kneeled down to match his height, mouth snarling, but head nodding intently to whatever Todo was whispering in his ear. You look at Haibara, and he shrugs just as helplessly.

“Umm…mister Haibara?” Another one. The pink-haired man’s soul damn near leaves his body as another teeny, toddling monster starts pulling on the teacher’s sweater. 

Likely expecting an encore of the chaos just prior, his smile stretches thin. “Yes, Toge?” And you, too, start praying that it wasn’t any more love advice, or choice words about Sukuna’s character.

Pale hair cut into severe bangs, the boy mumbles in a small voice, “There’s some old men in the bushes.”

Ryomen Sukuna has never run up to a bush to kick it so fast. 

And, later, with Jin left explaining to the teachers and the elders still walking off their bruises, he found himself walking down a softly sunlit road with you. Yuji now fast asleep on his shoulders, and you by his side.

It was a perfect day. Made only more perfect by the gentle tugging of your husband’s fingers towards yours, in midair. In all his years, it’s perhaps the scariest thing he’s done. They hesitate, and then they reach - the slow curves of his digits gliding down your wrist, before interlocking with yours. Warm. Firm. And yet, softer than his palms have ever felt. 

He thinks he catches you smiling, and Sukuna thinks Todo’s advice might not have been so bad after all. 

And from a nearby bush, Itadori Jin pumps his fist in success. Impotency or not, not a complete waste, then.

.

.

.

One night a week later, the elders decide, push should come to shove.

Literally; cold towels were thrust into your hands before you’d been shoved through the damp wooden gates of the Itadori household’s bathroom. It was the largest one, special in the way a large portion of the room was occupied by a steaming hot spring.

And from your position at the very edge of the humid chamber, you could see the toned shoulders of Ryomen Sukuna. Back turned to the door, just the upper half of his body was peaking out of the water. Glistened with dampness, deltoids flexed as he leans his elbows back against the floor.

You’re semi-glancing behind you at the members of the council that had all but thrown you inside- something about ‘marital bonding.’ Which was really just a way for them to take care of their head’s little ah…rumored problem. 

To them, it was perfect - your gorgeous wife comes up to you in a hot spring and…helps. What more could he want? After all, there’s nothing wrong with impotency - there was just something wrong with their clan leader.

You’re game either way.

And you gently knock against the wall to denote your entrance, before walking up to where Sukuna was gawking from now. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Helping.” You reply simply, wringing the towels before folding them over his heated forehead. “Do you wish for me to leave-”

“N-no!”

It comes out faster than he’d have liked, more hitched than he would have liked. Honestly, the sentence barely even leaves your lips before Sukuna sits up straighter. Letting sploshes of scalding water drip down his abs, he leans further back against your touch. “I mean- stay.”

“Mhm, I heard you had a long day.”

“The worst, mama.” And part of his response is half-grunted with the way you’ve now situated yourself properly behind him. With your lap now a bed for his damp head, fingers weaving through those coral pink locks. “Had to refurbish the dojo, then take care of the problem with that damn Zenin brat…then donate to Yuji’s…kindergarten, then…promote a few elders… and one I had to…” Heavier and heavier, he was sinking into you with each nimble movement of your fingertips. “-fuck.”

“You fucked an elder before you fucked me?” You raise a brow in humor.

“Huh- no!” He’s growling, steam curling from the water. And as you’d briefly halted your ministrations to tease him, he guides your hands back to move. “I would never…eugh. Shit, can’t even imagine doing somethin’ like that with anyone but you.”

Suddenly, it’s silent. Except for the slow curdle of the water, and the soft grunts that Sukuna was oh-so-desperately trying to bite back. 

Fuck, he was so handsome.

Such naturally chiselled muscles, and dark circular tattoos on just about every joint he had. 

You massage his burning temples, slipping down into the longish length of his hair. “Oh, is that so? And do you imagine it often with me, clan leader Sukuna?”

“Stop being such a fuckin’ tease.” Hissing, Sukuna’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he practically begs. And he looked so pretty when he was begging; brows upturned, mouth unintentionally pouty. “How can I help myself?”

“And am I doing anything to stop that?”

“Yes-” Forgoing the massage, Sukuna now stops your right hand. Holding it tightly as he turns his head and presses a kiss to the tender inside of your wrist, hot with water and his blush. “Just existing is enough.”

“Sukuna…”

Your mouth parts, and it’s like a string being drawn- your lips are on his. It’s messy, with the way he’d angled himself from upside down, tilted up just to sliiide the plushness of his mouth across yours. It’s light, like he was holding himself back.

And you knew what he was capable of.

Which was likely what made you reach for the back of his head, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Gasping, your mouth just barely parts for his hungry maw to clasp ‘round your sugary tongue. Sucking—before-

Before a button clicks, and suddenly the bathroom walls are trembling with lyrics singing ‘I just had sex—’

You could’ve caught whiplash with how fast you’re both staring at the entrance: meeting with the sight of the several elders, Wasuke, and a ridiculously large boombox. Piled onto an embarrassing heap on the floor, they’d seemingly fallen over- likely from their spying over one corner of the door. 

‘And it felt so good—’

“Wrong one dammit- this is what Wasuke was on music.” You’re catching one of them murmur. Just about the only thing they have time for before scurrying away - leaving the boombox very, very behind. And you don’t have to look behind you to know that Ryomen Sukuna was likely seething enough to make the spring water itself bubble. 

Sukuna growls, “Fucking George Michael.”

“Actually I think that’s Akon.”

Sukuna slams his open palm against the edge of the pool, and you have to open up your palms to stop yourself from being splashed. He murmurs, more to himself, “All because I didn’t wanna fuckin’ scare you- not that they’d-”

“Wait, why’d you think you’d scare me?” You ask in confusion.

To which he looks at you in genuine bewilderment, as if that wasn’t even worthy to be a question. “You’re beautiful.” He states, like there were no truer words. 

Before gesturing at himself- those naturally rosy locks, the four arms, the faint slash across his abs where they said his second mouth was to be. Cursed with strength, cursed with power, cursed with looks that defined him as something more than human. “Look at me- just fuckin’ look at me. And that’s not all- how shall I be expected to live a normal marriage when I’ve been cursed from birth? I only ask for forgiveness that I’d been selfish with my choice of you, my wife-”

“Well, I don’t forgive you.” 

It’s silence, and he looks torn between hanging his head in understanding, and taking your words head on.

“Because I think you’re beautiful, too.” You say it honestly. “My beautiful husband.”

And, for not the last time that night, the big, bad cursed Sukuna blushes.

‘Felt so good~’

.

.

.

“Sh-shit—” Your back arches lewdly, allll the way back until your naked, puffy core could reach as much of Sukuna’s mouth as possible. “Think I like it better when you’re like- ngh, this.”

Just a few minutes and one rapid trip to your bedroom later found you with your previous clothes in a heap across Sukuna’s bedroom floor. Your thighs shakin’, hips bucking wildly as you straddled his mouth—no, not his first. 

You were riding his second mouth.

The wildly monstrous one slashed across the middle of his stomach, large and hungry. He’d gaped it open immediately once you’d clamored up his washboard abs, letting the curled tip of his second tongue slide deftly between your inner thighs.

Playfully flickering in patterns straight up to the target of your cunt-

“Haaah, so you’ve decided you like- mmm, this mouth more than me?” One of his four hands teasingly dips downwards to grace your pussy with a solid spank. 

So loud, so wet that it makes his cursed mouth lick its lips in greed. “Really not gonna talk t’me now then? Not even through these lips?” Another one. And it’s letting off the rawest slurp that muffles your own squeal- “Though, I think she disagrees, huh, baby?”

Through gritted teeth, you somehow manage to force out, “Shut up-”

“Alright alriiiight.” Sukuna trails off, seemingly back to focusing on the ministrations of his tongue. 

Your eyes are dangerously on the verge of criss-crossing as he glissades it up every bead of slick escaping you. Laid flat n’ draaaaagging across every inch of skin he could reach, the flexible tip of his tastebuds were just barely touching your treacly folds when-

Spank!

Even harder this time. And your mind whirls stupidly at the stinging sensation that just felt so good- “N-ngh, fuck–”

You were bending so cutely on top of him, and Sukuna can’t help but lean his hulking figure further down the king-sized mattress. “Atta girl.” Bucking up so that you’re fully seated on top of his second mouth now, slick dribbling all down his obliques, his cursed tongue glued to your clit. 

Sticking between your folds, his pinkish tastebuds rover ‘round and ‘round that fat nub where you were most sensitive. Just barely gurgling out, “And here I th-thought you were shy-” 

“And here I thought you were dumbified, hmpf.” With a roll of his eyes, your husband chuckles. “Guess not yet.”

It was as much a warning as he would give you - and it wasn’t a warning at all.

Before the fat girth of his finger is rudely pryin’ apart your pussylips and shoving the first few inches inside. Until you’re being spearheaded by him, he’s trying to scope every inch of you. He’s trying to snake his muscle in until he’s probed into every nook n’ cranny.

“F-fuuuuuck—” Sukuna groans out, watching through half-lidded peripherals at the way your tight hole was trying to suck him up. So thick, he can count every throb of your walls around him, one-two-three-four- “Are we sure yer not dumbified- hah, already? Look how fucking wet ya are, mama.”

“N-ngh, Kuna—”

Your whines are botched with pants, after each time his finger is swabbing its way inside. Fitting in two- moving in the slightest half-ruts just to fit inside- again. And again and again.

Each passing second had him probin’ into a new corner of your pussy - and yet, it still wasn’t enough for the clan leader. Which is why Sukuna finds his tongue slithering back and forth your folds, pushing them apart until he was given a front row seat to your depravity. “See? A damn- fuck- waterpark. Are ya always like this or m’I just special, huh?”

“You’re not gonna be special if you- mmpf, talk so- ngh, much-” The stretch is so incredible that you’re forced to bite down on the gummy insides of your cheek. A necessity if you didn’t want to wake the entire house up tonight.

But Sukuna had other plans.

Rose brows raising in slight surprise, “Ohhhh? That good, huh?” The edges of his sleazy grin twitch once he’s tuggin’ on your dripping wet entrance even further, pumping in the expanse of a third lengthy finger. “M’just gonna take that as a sign m’special~”

“Kuna-”

Oh, you were just so pretty huffin’ and puffin’ atop him like this. It’s enough to make his second mouth slobber with greed, edging dangerously towards the circle of your stuffed hole. “Alright alriiight. Brace yourself, baby.”

“Brace m- wha- oh.”

Before you know it, his fat fingerpads are pushed oh-so-deeply inside. So deep that you think he’s filling out every drivelling orifice, pumping furiously. 

Sukuna fucks you with his fingers like he’s trying to make you remember. Like he’s trying to hook into all of your sweetest spots, the ridges of his joints brush up slightly against your g-spot. You mewl, “It’s so- oh, I’ve never felt so full-”

“Yeahhhh- those fingers of yours can’t do this, huh? Poor thing.” Fauxly cooing, he’s rovering you so open. Your husband’s fingers were so big that he didn’t even have to try to leave you trembling- to leave you whimpering as he pulls out in a quick split-second.

Wordlessly despite your disappointed cries, you crack your teary eyelids open to find that Sukuna was slipping off the silver metal wedding ring off of one of his left hands. And pushing it down onto his slick-glazed right hand- before thoroughly thrusting. “S’gonna be a stretch- gonna be a biiig stretch. You can take it, mama.”

“C-can I?” Your thighs twitch stupidly at the frigid feeling of his ring scraping your soft insides. 

This way, you could pinpoint the exact way he was moving inside of you: in and out in and out, curling to hit your g-spot. 

And Sukuna can tell the exact moment his stirrin’ fingers target your most sensitive spot- because you’re panting, you’re bucking. You’re throwing your head back once he plunges his slick-glazed fingers out to do it all over again and again, until his knuckles hit your pussylips raw. “Hell yeah, ya can. How’re you gonna, mmm, take all of me if you can’t even- oh, take these, hm?”

You’re pouting, “I-I can…”

“What’s that?”

In an effort to prove it to him, you bounce your hips right back into his sloppy cadence. “I can-” And it only makes your cunt squelch even louder the closer you are to his slippery tongue. 

“You can?”

“Y-”

His hips jerk upwards roughly, grazing that ridged texture of his tastebuds from the very bottom of your pussy, up, up, up to the tip of your slope. And it’s loud. “You can?” Your heart races, it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t talking to you - he was talking to your other pair of lips. “Then take it- take- ngh.”

Harder and harder. His probin’ mess was reaching a fever point and you’re rubbing yourself pathetically on the prolonged muscle of his tongue. 

And the more ravenous his cursed mouth became - edging his globular tip nearer n’ nearer to your stretched-out hole - the more ruined he was becoming. Bucking himself up animalistically, two hands of his control the grindin’ of your hips- manhandling you down just enough so that the wetness of your cunt just barely touches his rock-hard cocks. 

“F-fuck!” You’re whining at the feeling of two thick mushroomy tips touching your skin. 

And Sukuna doesn’t touch himself- no matter how many hands he has. Having you on top of him like this would be a sure-fire way to cream himself in his pants before he even started. His pretty lips wobbling, eyes scrunching closer the harder his aching erections throbbed. 

He was so sexy. And you can’t stop yourself from staring- something he notices even when he’s in this state. “Wh-what?” Flinching at the sheer intensity, “The fuck are ya looking at, huh?”

“I’m just th-thinking…” And you have to stop yourself from moaning as he pulls out his plump fingers in punishment. They were glistening, dripping with so much of your juicy sap that Sukuna sucks clean in front of you. 

Before slipping back in—“That I’d- oh- love to make you, mmm, shut up.”

Rolling his crimson eyes, “Oh, you’d love to make me shut up, huh?” And he was so smug. So sure of himself…until the leader catches onto the way you’d been rutting against his second mouth. Riding. And, slowly, those hazy peripherals of his widen- “Fuck…don’t tell me-”

You only nod.

“-you seriously wanna be fucked by my cursed mouth?”

Nodding drunkenly again-

“O-oh.” His head falls back into the satin pillows as you’re slipping it in, the slimy tendril of his tongue finally scouring into where he’d wanted to for so long now. 

It feels incredible. 

Finally hooking ‘round your tight entrance to push in, in, in—he’s just so big that once Sukuna’s unfurling his greedy tongue, it feels damn near never-ending. And you felt so tight pulsing around him, squeezing him inside once, twice, thrice. “Ya- ya really are gonna be the death of me- fuck!”

You start to ride him and it makes the big, bad Ryomen Sukuna mooooan, twitching his way inside of you. Since you were already softened up by his fingers, it was easy work for him to pull out and immediately replace himself with those rude tastebuds of his. 

Straightened out so he can probe around your walls, the length of his cursed tongue was pumping n’ pumping.

You’d never felt anything like this before. And you swear you see the mouth on his belly chuckle darkly as he fucks you like he would with his cocks. Salivating. Sploshing your poor insides until you have him memorized. 

Sukuna’s tongue swerves along your walls until he brushes the very back of your cervix, softly mushing it in. Again. And again. And again—“Fuh-fuuuuck—” You’re gurgling out, wet wads of saliva dribbling down each side of your lips. “Who’s the one dumbified now?”

“Wh-what- ngh-” His eardrums were popped from the pure pressure, barely able to make out your words.

And through the constant rams of his tongue, you manage to string together- “I-I said, who’s the- oh, dumbified one n- oh!”

“You.” In that very moment, he has his bumpy tastebuds glued to your g-spot, his hips arching right off the tense bedsprings, core tensed. Sukuna slashes his cursed mouth into your favorite area and grooooans, “Still you.”

Mouth prattling nonsensically, “Th-that’s cheating-”

“Nuh uh.”

He squeezes your perked clit with the tips of his rude fingers, still with the ring on one of them. And the backs of your eyes explode with white-hot pleasure at the dual pleasure - his tongue fucking you ferally, his digits teasing your clit. “Yes it is- hngh, because it’s gonna make me…”

Cum.

You were so close, you could feel it in each swab of his tongue. Gaped open even wider for the most maximum movements, each thrash is angled just right against your g-spot.

Just right to stretch out your glistening walls until they’re taking the shape of him. And he hums, “Yeahhhhh— all over.” Your clingy slick is drenching his abs by now, like a waterfall that he’s scooping up with a fourth hand. 

One on your clit, two on your hips to move you pliably up n’ down his length, and his final one getting absolutely soaked. Sukuna brings them up to his primary mouth to suck off the layers of candied slick, smearing it all over his lips like some delicacy. “Yeah, allll over now, mama. Make a hah- mess of me.”

Your jaw unfastens as you watch him clean himself off, every single drop. “Oh my…hngh.”

“What? Mmm, jealous?” Ruder, harder. It was just so sloppy how his mouth rovered all over your cunt, slippin’ and slidin’ back and forth at a constant pace. “Maybe if you were, hah, patient, you could’ve gotten that.”

“As if I’d want that…” You’re huffing, stubborn.

“My wife, you’re just- about- to cum- on me.” The space between each word is slashed with a push of his rovering fat tip, and a thorough squeeze on your clit.

To which you’re shooting back- “And you were about to cum- ngh, untouched.”

And you think he’ll tease you back. You think he’ll bully you until you’re driven mad - but Ryomen Sukuna was moaning in agreement.

Speeding up the pace of his velvety tongue, he’s slithering it with a deep bash against your g-spot. Grunting, “Can you blame me?” Harder. Something at the back of his throat cracks. He begs, “Such a pretty, oh, fuckin’ wife like you and- and I’m expected to stay calm?”

Hiccuping, “I- I don’t- Kuna, I’m not gonna last-”

Faster. “M’expected not to get pussydrunk? Expected to not fucking- lose it. F-fuck-” Sloppier. 

And you don’t get to hear what the tail end of his sentence might have been. Because with a few more vulgar strokes, you’re breaking apart—cumming. 

Lids cracking with tears, lips wobbling out whines.

His name, over and over again. Your cute noises are so loud that he has half the mind to wonder whether those damn elders will hear, “Cum—ing-” You announce, belatedly. Body shaking with each peak of your high, “Feels so- so good, oh.”

“Does it, now?” He babbles away, drunk on your honeyed pussy. The sheer primal clench of your walls almost made it hard for him to fuck you through your wave of bliss. “Good- good, atta girl, cream all down my t-tongue now.”

The curvaceous tip of his tongue was constantly pricking your g-spot, and it only drags out your orgasm even further. Until you were nothing but a sobbing mess, “Am- oh, I am.”

“Mhmmm— go ahead.” Your thighs twitch, head dropping backwards as the last few dredges of your high are pounded away. “Go ahead- take it. Take it all out on me.” With a few twinges of electricity that zap down your spine, you can finally manage to crack open your eyes. 

But you notice that just as you’ve reached your high, Sukuna did, too. 

Or, at least, he was trying oh-so-desperately not to.

As your pace lazes, his two hands on your waist glide down to his plump, aching erections. Both sets of thumbs rover on top of his leaking orifices, squeezing just so he won’t leak out in cum. Stopping himself from cumming untouched. 

And that makes you huff, “Kuna…” Your newfound nickname for him makes him flush, and you instantly swat away his hands. “Want it now.”

“Cheh-” Those hazy, blood-red eyes of his narrow, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear the tight snap of his underwear being pulled. “What a spoiled lil’ wife…”

But that wouldn’t stop him from indulging you, of course.

Sukuna breathes in heavy puffs, and you barely even have the time to catch yours before he’s immediately clawing onto the right side of your ass cheek with one hand.

Usin’ that sinful leverage to manhandle you straight down onto one of his plush tips, the thick circumference of his shaft throbs against your hole and you moan. Head snapping down- “Fuck.”

Oh, fuck.

He was so…big.

And that was being humble- you’d come to learn that not only was Sukuna gifted with extra height and limbs, he was gifted with extra size too. 

Two fat, veiny lengths laid between two meaty thighs, they were colored the prettiest tan flush on their tips. Dribbling down heaps of precum that puddled between the two of you. By now, the curly pink hairs at the bottom of his bases were already drenched, and his ballsack was so tight with need. 

 Sukuna was so hard that every throb was visible. So big that it made your thighs squeeze together.

Mentally, you’re calculating just how it might be possible for him to fit inside you. Before his rough tone cuts off your thoughts, “Ah ah- we can count together, mama. Say it w’me now-” 

“Wha- one!” Almost laughable, he’s then bullying in just the thickened front of one cock. They were stacked vertically, and as you get pierced by the lower one, his upper one was rubbin’ primally on your front. 

Sukuna’s mean fingers draw an invisible line from up your treacly slit, measuring. “Mmm- s’more like two inches.”

“Two-” You blabber, “Then how much more-”

“Guess we’ll just have to find out, heh~”

And he meant it.

Before long, Sukuna was fucking up into you furiously. Ferally. Thrust after half-thrusts just to fit his incredible size inside, “Tha’s about four…mmm, more three.” He’s drunk on your pussy, counting away how many solid, sopping inches managed to be squeezed in each time. In a split-second, your poor pussy’s being spanked. “You too, baby.”

“It’s just so- ngh—” Your head throws back for the nth time tonight, singing in synchronization with the creaks of the bed. 

It’s like he was jackhammerin’ you, mazing your slick-filled insides with the globe of his cockhead. Sukuna was so long that it was easy to massage your every sweet spot- again and again. “Whaaaat? Can’t take it? Fuck, wee’re only about-” On your tummy, he measures out how far he’d slid inside by now. “S-six inches, still. About halfway?”

Your eyes bulge—halfway?

It’s a shock so large that the rest of your body loosens up, weakened. Just perfect for him to grab onto your hips, your thighs, one hand on your neck to jostle your cute body up n’ down his cock.

“S’it too much for my, mmm, good wife?” Mercilessly, he’s spitting between your ajar mouth. “Took my tongue but you can’t even take one of my cocks- aw, c’mon now, mama.”

“I-I-”

“I-I-I- whaaaat?” Octaves higher. Your husband leans in until his heated breath burns the shell of your ear, whispering, “Gonna hafta speak up, y’know? Unless ya want me to- fuck- it out- of you-”

And you always did surprise him. Because where the head of the Itadori clan expected to be met with a few sobs, a few pleas, you’re only straddling his toned hips tighter. 

Swervin’ your hips down in a dizzying figure-eight to help him stuff your cunt full of him. And even though it still wasn’t enough to bottom out completely, you look up at him through teary lashes. “I want both, Kuna.”

Sukuna’s pink lashes flutter, his breath catches. “Wh-what?” And he stutters. Oh, you’d made him stutter - just as nervous and awestruck as he was on your wedding night.

“Both.” You can only repeat the word.

Because at that very second– before your response has even graced his very ears, he’s rutting up into you like an animal. Like a dog in heat, Sukuna’s crushing your front to his abs and his cocks to your cunt.

Pap!

“Fuck…” He hisses at the sting of flesh slamming on flesh, “Eleven. What was that?”

And you’re being dumbified by the sheer stretch, not only had he started kissin’ your puckered pussylips with his second cock - he was starting to press inside. No hesitation, no waiting around for you to get used to the stretch. Sukuna was hungry. 

You somehow choke through wads of your own spit, “More- both- oh fuck!”

“What? S-say it again-” He’s like a broken record at this point, and so were his plunging cocks. Deeper n’ deeper. Your drivelling entrance was now stretched out so widely over the circumferences of his bases, sobbing just as much as you were. 

“Bo-”

“Twelve- again.”

It was a damn wonder that he could still spit out coherent words. Stammering. Heaving.

The hand of Sukuna’s that’d been caressing your front was now slithering down to cup both his shafts. Guiding them upwards to press in—“Gonna have ya take it a-all until here-” You snap your head down to see what he was talking about - only to catch a lil’ you’d missed in your observations of his size before. 

Those two ring tattoos at the base ends of his cocks.

The sight itself is so lecherous that it has you moaning- “Oh, yes- both.”

“Yeah? So sit pretty and take it, baby.” They were glistening with your sultry sap, nearly kissing your folds by now. “Allll the way until m’tattoos- got it, girl? Alllll the way until…” Stupidly, you’re nodding. And he can only breathe through clenched teeth, “Fuh-fuck! Thirteen.”

Thirteen.

Thirteen entire inches - each.

You’d finally reached the tattoos. And they were stuffed pretty n’ puffily inside you. Throb-throb-throbbing away against your every tiny orifice, Sukuna didn’t even have to try to mold your gooey cunt to him. 

As you open your mouth to demand him to move, he plunges in two of his thick fingers. Messily dragging himself towards the back of your throat, “Tch- such a dangerous fuckin’ mouth. M’gonna hafta fuck that outta ya.”

You’re whimpering, your jaw dangling agape perfectly for him to spit inside. And then his second mouth—targetting your pussy with a thick glue of spittle.

At least he was nice enough to give you an actual semi-warning this time.

Because before long, two hands are clawing at your sides. Pinning you down so that his two shafts can prick your cervix neatly, bottomed out and yet still trying to go deeper.

When he finds that futile, Sukuna bodily bounces you up n’ down his upright erections. “Oh my god- o-oh my god.” One of his angular shafts was bashing in your sponged cervix, and the other was just below n’ cutely rubbing on your g-spot. “Fuck it just feels so- good!”

“Aaaaatta girl, enjoy it.” With a hand on your throat, he bends you back into an arch. 

The pressure is almost too much - so much. You find your body naturally torn between running away and yearning for more, more, more. Though, luckily, the clan leader’s there to help you make that decision. “Nuh uh, no runnin’, baby. Put your back into it- taaaake it, you see how much she likes it?”

“Can- can hear-”

“Mhm—”

And truly, your overfilling pussy was so loud. Every splatter of precum inside you made the most primal squelches- and the volume? 

The sheer sploshes of his gooey translucent sap was enough to bloat your pussy. But now with two plump, vein-covered cocks of his probin’ your innards, he was fucking a tummy bulge into you. You gasp at the feeling, “I d-didn’t even know that was- hck! possible-”

“Heh, course it is—And y’know how to make that cute lil’ tummy bulge of yours even bigger?” Sukuna beckons you closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret.

Even though, really, he’s manhandling you like a ragdoll. Reeling you in until his scorched hot lips were grazing your own, murmuring. “I just…hafta…fuck a baby into you, my wife.”

Almost on cue - like a little preparation - both of his strawberry-red divots stream out a few beads of precum. Splattered against your walls, they drip n’ cream down the sides of your pussy and make you see stars. “I would like that- oh, I would- I would like that.”

“Mmm— and what about you?”

Evidently, your needy cunt’s in agreement, too. Because the wettest noises suddenly let off from between your legs- and only later do you realize that it wasn’t just because of how damp your pussy was. No, it was because of his second mouth.

Tonguing down the shimmery sheen of slick upon each of your thighs, he licks up every drop of juice you were leaking. Flicking the curly end of his tongue at your clit-

“Ah ah- focus on me.” Sukuna snaps you out of your high with a light spank on your slope, and a literal click of his fingers. 

“B-but how can I when it feels so goood—”

“So goooood, huh?” He drags it out purposefully, pressing his thumping veins against the roof of your channel. 

Sukuna knew the effect he had on you. He knew how to target your favorite spot in strikes so precise that it left your toes curling, vision flashing with white. “Tell me-” Right now, he had one hand smearing apart your folds to better let his tongue slip between them. Another two hands clung onto your waist to help you move, and the fourth and final was grabbing your face. Pushing your cheeks together pathetically, “Can’t focus? Awww, my poor wife. Are that- oh, useless at focusing on anything that isn’t my two c-cocks right now?”

“N-ngh, Kuna—” Cute. How cute. Your dilated pupils were swirlin’ in circles inside the whites of your eyes, comically pounded stupid after each stroke upon stroke.

“S’that the case, huh? Is that why my mouthy girl is so- oh, fuck- quiet now?” He’s almost snickering- it’s so ruthless. 

Heavy hips pressuring up into you. He was pounding you in rough thrusts, all the way from the mazing curve of his cockheads to those tickling tufts of pink at his very bottom. And Sukuna has the audacity to spit—“Fuck, mama. Do you even know your name right now?”

Your brain was too hazy, merely sparking with twitches of pleasure. You’re left blubbering nonsensically for a few seconds, until his tongue slaps your buttony clit. Startling you into answering, “I-I…”

“Heh, do you even know mine?”

“K-Kuna—” You might not remember your own name by now, but screaming Sukuna’s over n’ over had permanently branded his into your mind. 

And so you look up at your husband’s handsome, leering features for any recognition. Only to find him tutting, “Now now, how disa- oh, disappointing. I thought you’d most importantly know who I am, at least.”

“Then…clan leader?”

“Nuh uh.”

Pouting, “B-but ”

“B-b-b-but-” He’s mocking, buttery tongue now rubbin’ your nub raw. You felt overstimulated enough to press your chin between his puffy pecs, like cushions. Sheening out drool all over his skin- “Say my title before you cum, baby.” You listen with bated breath, “M’your husband. And m’always gonna be your husband.”

“M-my husband?” Your mouth drops - and you’re unsure whether it’s because of his words, or the sudden increase of his tempo. Hot and hard.

His twin, rock-hard crowns plummet all the way until you swear you can feel him poke your lungs. Throbbing at a thunderous staccato, he breathes—“Gonna be your husband that fucks you like th-thiiiis—” Punctuated by a few sloppy drags of his vein-decorated lengths, “Gonna be your husband that eats you out like m’starved.” A few hearts that he’s drawin’ on your clit with his extra prolonged tongue.

“Fuck- fuck I’m gonna—”

As your sobs break off, his roughened hand dips from your throat to the slick n’ precum dripping down your thighs. And you faintly notice the way he’s using the moisture to write out his own name—

Ryomen Sukuna. 

Signed off with a little heart on your skin, “And m’gonna be your husband that…” And a second heart right above where your womb was, where he was jackhammering into your womb like no other. Flooding it with copious knots of cum like he was practising for something else soon. 

Sukuna leans down sweetly so that his lips trace your earlobe, whispering. “-breeds this pretty pussy alllll full.” Tapping the front of your pussy, like he was just imagining it.

And that does it for you. That does it.

Before long your head falls into the crook of his neck with a dull thud, so utterly dumbified on your sudden orgasm that you can only blabber. “Kuna- Kuna—!” 

Your thighs were shaking, cunt fluttering with each spasm of pleasure.

And if Sukuna was going to fuck you through your high, he was going to fuck you through your high. Every probe of his rovering cocks increased your bliss tenfold, exact hits to your g-spot. 

Sobbing, “Please-” You can only hold onto his flexed, tattooed deltoids for dear life. Clawing down his skin due to the constant stimulation, you bow your spine backwards and meet his ferocious thrusts. Riding out the euphoria- spark after spark that made your toes curl.

Grunting, he just felt so used right now. And he loved it. “Yes yes yes- let this entire house know. Let that whole council ngh- hear how good of a husband I am to you.”

It lasts until you’re gurgling on your own whines, zaps of electricity still shooting from your cunt. “Let them-” And Sukuna dares to smush your tear-wettened cheeks together to coo, “Fuck, what’s that–? What’s that pretty mouth hafta- hngh, say t’me?”

And you somehow manage out, “I-inside.” A shaky hand of yours snakes down to part your pussylips wider, helping his roverin’ tongue. “My husband…”

Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes widen, his kiss-bitten lips part.

You could almost hear the deep, trembling gasp that he’s inhaling. Letting out only five words—“I l-love you, my wife.”

You aren’t granted the time to formulate a response- before his thick, battered cockheads start spilling out. Flooding your cunt in mere seconds, you’re just dripping down your thighs in thick clumps of his seed.

And his cursed mouth is more than happy to indulge in all the miry ribbons of sap, lickin’ all upwards until a thin, ivory gloss coats its lips. Sukuna looks down and groans, “Oh fuck- oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-”

His flush was scorching, face scrunched in pleasure. You’re purring, “You’re so pretty, baby—”

“Ah, m’so glad I married ya.” He can’t stop the lil’ confession that leaves his mouth. Heart too full- your cunt too full. And if you saw one of the strongest, most vicious clan leaders in existence smile through a fiery blush n’ his pussydrunk tears, then you mercifully don’t comment.

“M’glad I married you too, Kuna—” 

And you’d felt nothing like this before. Having his gluey cum splosh around inside of you, both of his lengths were shoved in so deeply that they were constantly coating your cervix in white. Your womb.

Your deepest orifices that leak out as Sukuna plants a hand on your tummy and presses, watching with bated breath as his seed gushes out of you like a waterfall. “Fuck- didn’t think it would be like th-this, ngh.” He was hypnotized, making an even bigger mess of you. “Didn’t think that it would be s-so…” Addictive.

He doesn’t finish his sentence. For now.

Red eyes teary, Adam’s apple gulping. You’d completely sucked him dry by the time that Sukuna was pulling out of you. The matching mushroom tips of his shafts twitching, reddened and sensitive. 

He hisses as they bob in the air for a few seconds, before-

“Kuna- oh, fuck.”

Before you were flipped over and pressed deep into the mattress. Your legs on his shoulders, your knees near your tits—and his mouth over your overstimulated cunt. 

Letting you cream all down his chin, Sukuna has to swat away his cursed mouth just to get a taste of you himself. And the moment his plush lips touch your glazed folds- you’re trying to run away. Failing. 

“Now now, my wife.” Being draaaaagged back down by all four of his big, beefy arms. Sukuna pecks exactly six open-mouthed kisses on your sloppy hole, his lengthy pinkish tongue coming out to sluuurp—“I remember something about…six heirs?”

Oh. 

.

.

.

“Y’know, there’s really nothing wrong with impotency.”

Wasuke grunts, a few elders nod. “Agreed.”

“But maybe he’s taken a vow of celibacy-”

“Maybe his dicks fell off.”

“Choso Kamo!” It was never too early in the morning for Itadori Jin to squawk at his sons, especially when they were in the middle of what was undoubtedly an exceptionally important subject of conversation - the two of you. 

He wags his butter knife like a weapon, “We do not say those words in front of Yuji, and especially not in front of our toast.” Before reality sets in and he drags a hand down his face, “But yes…that is possible…”

Wasuke deems it to be the perfect time to chime in, “Bah! I don’t care if they fell off or if they multiplied- I just want grandkids.”

“Father, might I remind you that it was you who decided to interrupt their little moment last night?” A vein pops out beside Jin’s temple, and in his periphery can see the other guilty elders shift in their seats. 

The old man does, too, but still in denial. “Slander! That is propaganda that I will not be falling for-”

“Father, we have multiple eye witnesses. I am an eye witness.”

“And what were you doing spying with us?”

“…”

As Itadori Wasuke rests his case, the winding table falls into perhaps the first quiet of the morning. Somewhat tense. Somewhat anticipating. That is, until an oblivious Yuji nearly upturns his bowl of cereal to chime in—“Exorcist-”

“What? Choso, did you let him watch your-” Jin starts- and then stops. Because then he’s seeing exactly what his youngest son was looking at - you and Sukuna.

Well, more like you in Sukuna’s arms. It seemed that you were having some trouble waddling down the Estate’s multiple flights of stairs, painstakingly taking it one at a time to enter the dining room. And he has half the mind to nearly ask what’s wrong, perhaps even get up and help you himself- until he sees it.

Oh, it was hard to miss.

He sees it, and so does everyone else within a five mile radius: the bite marks, the bruises, the slight weariness in both your eyes from lack of sleep. It almost looked as if you two had been thrown to the wolves.

And his younger brother often did forgo a shirt for breakfast, but now he’d haphazardly thrown on a yukata. One that showed off such feral scratches disappearing down his back, his neck, fuck- maybe even his thighs?

Jin drops his butter knife, Choso exits the table, and Wasuke…was he even breathing? Hell, Jin was sure that a few of the surrounding elders had honest-to-heavens fainted right then and there.

Nearly everyone knew what happened.

Except for a beaming Itadori who was the first to gain your dual attentions, squealing out a “G’morning–!” that you both reciprocate in hushed, hoarse voices. Fuck, he even swears he heard Sukuna’s gruff baritone crack.

No one comments, of course, for the dark glint in their clan leader’s eyes promised sure death if they did. Though, Jin does roll his eyes at a few of the whispering council members—

“What a glorious, wonderful day it is. I truly do believe in miracles-”

“My bets are on a girl- but a boy would also be-”

“Akon worked?”

He doesn’t think he can judge, though. Not when he’s immediately pulling out his phone to text Yuji’s teacher, Haibara, about the salacious new updates. Ah, can you blame him? You two would make the prettiest lil’ babies. 

Finally, you and Sukuna finally take your seats at the clan table. Grinning. And by the looks on your faces, Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t impotent. Not at all. 

Though, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

The Itadori family sips their tea.

A/N. *Also sips tea* Hope you have a lovely week!

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.

“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.

It has his attention now.

The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.

“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.

“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“

“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”

“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.

“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.

“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”

His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”

“I… I don’t know—“

“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”

“Please.”

“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Yeahh let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”

And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.

"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”

Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.

“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”

Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.

He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.

The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.

“Are you ready to go again?”

“Wh-wha–oh fuck.” As if it was even possible, your maw gapes further ajar- maybe at the feeling of him sinking inside even deeper, maybe the feeling of his thick cock bulging even further at his own line of questioning. The mere thought.

But Toji’s taking it all in stride, he’s peering over in his rude mating press so he can purse his scarred lips. Spitting in-between you wobbly lips, “Mmm, does that help, doll?” 

And each of his thrusts strike the very end of your pussy, so hard that your head simply can’t stop bobbing and nodding. The sheer recoil. 

“Yeah? It does?” He’s teasing anyway, fully knowing the effect he has on you. Toji then hunches back ever-so-slightly, doing the same with your thoroughly wet pussy and listening as your squelching slurps grow even louder after each one of his thrusts. “Mhmmm, worked here, too. Now why don’t you- hah, answer my question, huh? Both of you?”

Both you and your sultry pussy.

You were just ruined. “What question- oh, fuck-” Just because your voice was pitching up shrilly, he’s tightening his hold on your neck. 

Planting out a few more solid bashes against your tiniest orifices inside before hissing. “Awww, c’mon- don’t wanna let them hear, remember?” Toji had dipped his voice into something so low, just for you to hear. “Shhhh, my wife. Quiet.”

“Q-quiet.” You nod.

“Cute.” He whispers out, almost like he didn’t mean to. And then Toji’s bludgeoning out a few loooong sloppy drags against your walls, his sappy precum pouring out in waves- he fills you up from the inside and makes it impossible to ignore the sinful noises emanating from your cunt.

Squeezing your throat as if that’ll help- more like he was trying not to fucking cum just from the sheer noises. Holding himself together. His other hand gropes the side of your hips and pulls you back, “Now- quietly, tell me what you want—girl or boy?”

Sobbing, “I don’t- I don’t even-”

“No preference?” He raises a dark brow, hips hitting yours with the pointed smack of skin-on-skin. Hard enough that the skin everywhere on his toned pelvis reddened. Stinging.

And then with a few more vulgar thrusts that leave you completely dumbified, he’s turning his partly-closed eyes down to your glistening wet pussy. Your folds all coated in a sheen of syrup, pried apart as he drills in his girth maddeningly. “Then, what about you, cutie?”

“Wh-who…” It takes you a few sultry seconds to realize that he’s talking down to your pussy. Nodding along to each slurp and clamp like he knew exactly what the puffy core in-between your legs was talking about.

And that’s when Toji chuckles with another wad of his glittery spit hitting your cunt, slipping down as he hums. “She told me she wanted both, mama.”

He sounded so utterly proud of that fact.

And he was fucking you like it, too. Just rough, hard pushes of his crowned cock that make you clench your teeth. Sweat glides down the side of his temple as he jostles you deeper into the mating press, his forehead sticking to yours, shaggy bangs tickling your skin.

Toji’s long, pinkish tongue slips out to lick at the salty dewdrops of tears streaming out of your eyes, and he murmurs. “Then I’ve- hah, I’ve gotta give my lovely wife what she wants, hm? Gotta fuck twins into her now?”

“Sh-shit—” You’re whining out, holding onto the front of your core as you feel heated sparks start to make their way through your every vein. “Twins- oh.”

“Mhm-” And if this was any other moment then he’d be teasing you on just how cute you were when you were dumbified like this. Speechless. “Two of them- gotta make- make Megs a big brother, huh?” Toji spits between your lips in an open-mouthed kiss and rams his bulged, red tip into you so deeply, bottoming out against your cervix and still pushin’ like he wanted to go even deeper. “Two of them…for now.”

“What do you mean f-for now?” You’re squealing stupidly, feeling his prominent veins zig-zag across your g-spot. Making you see white like it took absolutely no effort. 

And you didn’t have to think about anything else, of course.

Toji smiles, his overlarge palm pressing down on your front to keep you still as he pumps out one- two- three more thudding hits to both your g-spot and your cervix. And that’s just about all it takes for you to plummet into your high, seeing white - and you’re unsure whether it’s from the raw force of your high, or from Toji’s own splattering orgasm.

He’s shoving his lengthy cock in deep, keeping his geysering orifice angled straight into your womb as he streams out in ivory syrup. Looooooong gluey ribbons that splash ‘round your insides, creating a sticky white layer. 

And you’re just fucked - literally. 

Through each peak of your high, again and again he pinpoints your most tender crevices just so you’re shaking and cute under his touch. His mating press that he’s slouching you into, his muscular weight leaning in, panted breath scorching the side of your ears.

You could feel Toji stuffing you full all the way to the brim, his probing cock scouring your every hidden spot.

“It m-means, doll-” His voice wavers, and by the dazed look in his eyes, you’re unsure whether he’s talking to you or your pussy still. Thrusting, barely even pulling out, “-that twins are gonna be the last of what you hafta worry about.”

And as he starts sloppily increasing his pace, his palm rovers over to cover your whiny mouth. Before any of your older kids could hear. “So how ‘bout we try for triplets, hm?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Dad(dy) material.

“Fuck, darling…” Nanami’s stern lips tremble, and a slick line of drool drips lecherously from one end. 

You don’t think he even notices it as he’s slapping the reddened, bulbous end of his cock down between your pussylips. Just letting the creamy liquid of his cum pour out and slide between your folds, “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And, really, what were you doing to him?

It’d been an off-hand mention of it- honestly. Just a half-joke that his employees had been wondering out loud to you when their all-serious, all-sensible CEO might be having kids. How soft he’d be.

And you can’t deny that the idea intrigued you, as well…

So that’s how you found yourself bent into the meanest mating press possible underneath him. One wooden leg of your bed nearly sagging on one side after so many hours that he had you pliably taking his big, fat cock. 

“Oh- oh, I know.” He puffs out through the cracked line of mouth, “You’re gonna make me a daddy aren’t you, my wife?” Just talking so filthy.

“I- shit, so that’s what-”

Breathily, “Mhm, m’fucking addicted. Forgive me, my love. But it seems I can’t- stop-”

And once again and again, he’s pumping out a slippery sheen of his ivory syrup. Coating your pussy from both the inside and the outside before his bulging cockhead starts sinking in again.

“O-oh my god, it feels so—” You’re whining out at how good it feels, just the sheer stretch of his wide circumference rendering your head all dizzy. You claw down Nanami’s muscular back with your head thrown back lewdly, “-shit, are you sure it hasn’t taken yet, Kento?”

“No-” No, he wasn’t sure. Fuck, he doesn’t know if he can even think right now- but his pure, animal instincts just kept on telling him to shovel his rude cock back into your treacly orifice.

He wanted to mold his pure size into you bashin’ against the spongy layer of your cervix until you swear you could feel him poking near your damn lungs. Nanami gulps, pushing up his fogged glasses to see you better. “And neither one of us are walkin’ out of here until it does. I apologize if it gets a little…rough.”

“I already think it’s more than rough right now, ngh—” You sob, your tongue simmering with saliva as he pushes in. 

“Oh yeah?” And if you didn’t know any better than you’d have said that your husband almost sounded proud about that fact. “So does that mean you can take even more, darling…?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, “Wh-what do you mean- oh.”

Then Nanami’s flipping the two of you over so that his ripped body is laid out on his back. Your unstable legs straddling his waist, your glistening cunt leaving a snailtrail of slick n’ cum that makes both of you shiver. Dripping wet. Overspilling. 

And before you can get out another word - another syllable - he’s fucking up into you from beneath. Long, dragging glides of his veiny shaft up n’ down your walls- “Dinner-” He pecks your lips sweetly, “-and a show, hm?”

You sob, your voice hitching at the back of your throat at the way his plump, puckered cockhead was scouring every inch inside you. Harder. Faster. “Sh-shit you’re reaching even deeper like this, baby.”

“I know.” Nanami gruffly responds- another innocent kiss, another bash of his rock-hard cock. And his roughened palm slides down your front, almost as if he was soothing the mess he’s making of you from the inside, from above. “Tha’s the entire point, my wife. And you can, mmm, take it, right? You can t-take my cock?”

“I- oh.”

“Yeahhhh, of course you can. Don’t tap out yet, darling. If we really wan’ our daughter—” He’s cooing, pressing down lightly on the inflated bulge he’d fucked into you. Your puffy pussy was just sopping wet, “Look, she’s almost there. Just gotta give me a daughter, honey. Just oooone more f’me, alright?”

“O-one?”

“Mhm—”

At that point you can only bawl out your noises of pleasure, Nanami Kento had made you orgasm for each and every round he’d spent trying to breed your pretty cunt.

And he’s not going to let that stop.

He’s thrusting his plump cock up into you even harder, he’s muttering underneath his breath fucking baby names as he did so. He’s letting your ajar maw bite down onto one of his strong, veined forearms, muffling out. “Please- one more o-one more-”

Again and again.

As Nanami spurts out a milky line of precum that dribbles into your womb, you’re feeling yourself topple over the edge- a high that you didn’t even see coming. 

And you ride out your wave of bliss as best you can on top of him. Of course, your husband’s always there to help, too– always there to push his blushin’ tip against your sweetest spots, always dragging out your zapping high with his strokes.

But your poor pussy was so overstimulated by this point that this high doesn’t last as long as your first few did. Just a startling flash of euphoria that leaves your thighs quaking in its aftermath.

You blink down tearily just in time to catch the way that Nanami’s lips gape, all your clenching n’ trembling having left your pussy sploshing out a few of the wads of cum he’d fucked in before. He rovers his thumb down the line of your slit, pushing a few of them in, hooking the edge inside and making your head throw back.

“Well…” He starts off- and not only is he making your ears buzz with his filthy promises, Nanami pounds up into you at an even more accelerating pace of his pummeling length. He reaches over in mere nanoseconds towards your bedside table. Quickly producing his formal work tie that he uses to pin your wrists back, tying.

“I can’t promise that it’ll be only one more.” Nanami puffs out in confession, pussydrunken eyes nearly fluttering shut, cock flinching. Still rock-hard. “How about…two kids, my darling?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - HARD

Geto Suguru was fucking you hard.

Rough.

And you didn’t know what to do other than smack your hand down on the top of your bed’s headboard and hold on for dear life. A thin layer of perspiration on your skin leaving you slippin’ with your grip.

You try to hike your thighs up higher, almost as if in an attempt to run from the bludgeoning fatness of his girth. All slicked up with syrup n’ cum from the rounds prior and pushing against your every drivelling orifice-

“Ah ah-” Geto’s thoroughly hoarse voice from above echoes against your ears, enough to send shivers skittering down your spine before he’s attaching one hand to your throat and pulling you back. “Where are we going, gorgeous?”

“I don’t-” You’re hiccuping out, sobs cracking at the back of your throat. “I don’t even know-”

He gruffly chuckles, planting his pierced slit all ‘round your insides. That Prince Albert’s piercing of his was just so sinfully cold against your heated insides. “Mhmm, because you’re going nowhere, riiight?” 

“Y-yes- fuck!”

Honestly, it was just so cute how you were fucked dumb after all these hours. After all this time past that one cult meeting where a member had mentioned a successor to the mantle of leader—and, after you, Geto had briefly entertained the idea of…an heir. 

One that was constantly being illustrated in his mind as he’s plummeting his long, veiny cock into you. Such a sloppy staccato that slaps n’ slaps his thighs against yours, his v-line against your ass. 

His reddened tip swabbing wetly across your cervix and- and you could feel him throb primally at the thought of fucking an heir into you. His pretty pink lips curving up into a smile, “Good.” Softly - almost mockingly kissing the side of your head - he whispers. “Because you’re not leaving this bed unless s’carrying my child, my wife.”

Fuck- you two weren’t even married, yet. Merely engaged.

So overstimulated by now that he couldn’t stop himself from babbling, each jackhammer of his more vicious than the last. He sticks his veined shaft against the roof of your cunt and heads directly for your g-spot, where he could feel you clenching after each sloppy drag. 

“Remember- remember, the momma’s gotta cum, too.” Geto giggles out, his long raven hair tickling down your spine. “One more f’me, gorgeous.”

You shrill out, “I don’t- fuck! I don’t even know if I can-”

“And I don’t, either.” That lil’ strawberry-colored divot on the middle of his cockhead flinches, more and more wispy strings of precum pouring out each second. 

But that didn’t stop him. Wouldn’t.

And his extended, slender fingerpads slide between your wet pussylips. Latching onto your sensitive clit, he rolls his thumb over it a few times- sending sparks simmering from between your jittery legs. “But that’s not gonna stop me. C’mon, gorgeous, don’t you wanna make me a daddy?”

“I-I—”

“Don’t you wanna give me a lil’ daughter that looks juuuust like you?” He’s spitting from between the gaps of his snarl. “A lil’ cutie to spoil? To doll up? To cook for? To take to school while you rest, my wife?”

You’re moaning, bulbous tears streaming down your cheeks at this point from how roughly you were being manhandled underneath him. How much of his cum was sploshing ‘round inside. How sensitive you were. 

Geto has one hand on your hips to help you fuck back into him after the recoiling force of his thrusts, his other holding onto your neck and further dragging you backwards. Further tuggin’ on your limp body so he can let your maw hang ajar, so he can spit. “S-so that—” He grunts, as if he was continuing his conversation from just earlier, as if you weren’t just dizzy on his cock already. Limbs twitching. “-so that your husband can come home then n’...fuck another one into you?”

He was just so filthy.

And maybe it’s his words, maybe it’s the way he’s fucking you precisely like he means those words- but you’re then bursting into your nth high of the night.

So ruined on his aching, raving cock that you can’t do anything but whimper out a little- “Y-yes, please- yes…fuck! M’cumming.” You’re sobbing as you do so, the peaks of your orgasm feeling more like sudden surges of electricity.

Just mere tingles by now—but they take over your clouded mind so sinfully that you barely even notice the way that Geto’s cumming, too.

The curvaceous edge of his crown flinches just a bit, puckered up against the very door to your womb as he reaches his orgasm. Twitching once. Twice. Thrice. Before his shaft lets out nothing but the tiniest white droplet of cum - Geto Suguru was cumming dry.

And he was losing his mind over the fact.

One hand of his lifting off of your neck and slithering down to his heavy, oversensitive balls. He’s massaging them lightly, just squeezing out any drop of his sappy seed he could into your cunt. 

Unable to fill you up, he stirs around his clingy wads of cum from before. Coating your cute innards in a gloss of white, Geto groans, “Milked me all dry, didn’t you? Fuh-fuck, we really are gonna make such a cute lil’ daughter, gorgeous.”

And then he’s pulling out with the loudest, more lecherous squelch that you’ve ever heard in your life. 

Quickly plugging up your tired orifice with his fingerpads as he flips you over with one hand. Geto pushes back in the sheeny film of slick n’ cum that dribbled out of your pussy, and then throws your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders.

Your thighs against his washboard abs, his pecs. Your knees hitting your sore tits.

You’ve barely enough brain cells at the moment to realize that Geto had pushed you into a damn mating press. 

And you swear your skin gets hit with a barrage of his too-sensitive tears. His lips softly pecking yours, he swabs his overstimulated cock back inside. Inside and inside, he fills you up filthily with his glazed length- so long that it’s like he was never-ending.

One of his palms comes down to lovingly pat your tummy- now inflated with so much cum filled up. Smirking, “But I g-guess there’s only one way to make sure, huh, my wife?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “B-breeding kink?”

Your boyfriend stares up at you cutely; his long lashes blinking, just the top half of his face visible over where he’d stuffed himself in your tits, body draped above.

“Mhmmm—” You’re purring out- and maybe it’s the tone of your voice, maybe it’s the way you’re staring at him, but he simply can’t help but rut his half-hardened cock against your thighs already. “I think you have a breeding kink, Cho.”

A furious blush coats his handsome cheekbones, “Of course not.” He mumbles, staring away as he’s brushin’ his bulged erection against your wetting core. “So are you saying I want to b-breed you…?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s ridiculous, baby.” Grumbling, he’s pushing himself further into your mounds of flesh. Letting his spit-drivelled mouth open up to catch on one of your nipples and suck. “I don’t want to get you…well, I wouldn’t mind…if I did, ngh-”

“F-fuck, Choso.” You’re whining, feeling his heated length start twitching wildly against your entrance.

And he’s still babbling away to himself, still unaware- “Though, I do want kids, I…” Moving on pure animal instinct. “I would then hafta fuck this pretty pussy all p-pregnant first, wouldn’t I?” 

And before you know it (before even he knows it) he’s just barely smearin’ apart your panties- and with it, your puffy folds. Letting the large, bulbous end of his shaft ease inside with a sigh. 

It’s just so natural having his incredible size fill you up like this, and you can feel your thighs quiver. Hips starting to buck for more n’ more friction that he easily stops with a hand running down your front. 

Feeling for his thick cylindrical outline as he sinks iiiiiinside–“Y-you, oh.” And then Choso’s snapping his woozy head down to stare at just how glistening wet you were just from the conversation prior. Jus thow rock-fucking-hard he was. “This doesn’t prove, ngh, anything…”

“Mhmm—” You’re fluttering your lashes up at him, just the way he likes.

And oh, if you were going to play it that way then he could, too. Suddenly thrusting in just a few more of his solid inches, his puckered cockhead swabs your gooey insides and leaves you reeling.

“S-see?” Choso wrenches out a primal groan from the back of his throat, pushin’ your pussylips so far apart to take his sheer girth that it makes you whine. The sheer raw stretch making you see stars. “I don’t have a ngh, breeding kink.” 

His hand then flattens down further on top of your stomach, putting pressure on where his ruddied, swollen shaft was spearing through. “I don’t wanna f-fill you up until it-” Harder. “-leaks out of you. I don’t wanna-”

You nearly don’t hear the rest of his sentence because he’s hitting you with a sloppy jackhammer so hard that it makes your eardrums pop! 

But, luckily for you, it seemed that Choso was struggling, too. Having trouble enunciating his words so he had to gnaw down on the insides of his cheek to murmur, “-don’t wanna kiss that pretty womb of yours with my, mmm, cock.” Faster. His heavy balls clench, “Don’t wanna give you a kid or two or four or…” And a thin line of drool slides down the side of his lips. “Seven.”

Seven?

And it felt like Choso was completely and utterly pussydrunk by now.

Not even bottomed-out yet, but he was still probin’ into you again and again with his rapid, aching half-thrusts. Like every second he wasn’t inside you hurt him, and so the only thing he could do was to push apart your sheeny thighs further and let his flared cocktip kiss every ounce of your insides. 

You put your hands on top of where one of his was mapping out his mazin’ girth, on top of your tummy. And that makes him think…

Every cubic centimeter of his scraping with his puffy veins - somehow needier than usual for some reason - and it made his mind wander to an image of you all round n’ glowing with pregnancy.

With his kid.

“F-fuck.”

Choso’s husky voice breaks, and you think that you might as well. Because in that very moment he’s slamming his toned hips into yours, explosive, just like the way he’s hitting the back of your syrupy pussy with a sudden pap! of skin-on-skin.

Bottomed-out.

Filling you out

Cumming—and he doesn’t know whether it’s from having all your velvety walls surrounding every inch of him, or whether he was simply too far gone on the thought of breeding you all sloppy. But he thinks he’s squirting out the hardest orgasm of his entire life, and he’s not even stopping to register it for longer than a split-second before he’s fucking every creamy wad inside you.

Again and again.

His slick, slobbering orifice sticks into your tiniest crevices and fills them up with so much of his ivory syrup. And each time you’re trying to bounce your hips upwards to meet him, Choso only pins you down and makes you take it.

Every single drop. 

“Fine, m-maybe-” He sheepishly whines out, and you catch one side of his puffy lips tilt upwards. And almost as if to muffle his embarrassment, he throws himself back in-between the valley of your tits. “Maybe I do have a breeding kink, baby.” He admits.

That was understating it.

He was fucking you like he’s trying to leave you speechless, leave you pregnant. With his veiny cock swatting every side of your walls and stirring your sweet insides, he’s bruising himself against the doorway to your womb.

And oh- you’re suddenly realizing that the way he’s suckling on your sensitive areolas might not be out of shyness after all. But rather a temptation to see whether he’d be able to draw milk.

“T-told you so—” You’re mewling out through the slight gasps and spanks of his cock thrashing against your cervix. “Told you you have a breeding kink, baby.”

His furious cock twitches at the very words. The entire length of him stuffing you so good that you were overspilling gluey white ringlets of his own cum.

Ones that he can’t stand to see go to waste.

Ones that he’s reaching down to plug back in with his doughy fingertips, Choso brushes his ringed digits against your clit just as he does so. “So…about those seven kids, my baby…”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - UNC?!

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t think it would affect him so much.

In fact, he didn’t even think it would affect him at all. Why should it?

It was just your average stroll in your average store on an average day babysitting that damn brat (Yuji.) That’s when an elderly couple had cooed at your ‘little family’ and told Sukuna that his ‘son’ looked just like him…

…and that’s when Sukuna nearly left Yuji at the store to drag you home- dropping the kid off at Jin’s before he hauled you back to your apartment, splintered the door with how fast he shut it, pushed you down on the fucking threshold right then and there.

“F-fuck, ngh-” You’re gasping, your fingers gripping the carpeted floor as he’s nudgin’ aside your skirt and panties. “Kuna, what’s gotten into- hngh.” And whatever sentence on the tip of your tongue withers at the feeling of him spitting out a fat wad of saliva that slicks down your pussylips. 

Smearin’ it right down your crevice before he leans in- washboard abs against your back, mouth by your ear. “Nothing.” The globed end of his rock-hard cock kissing your entrance wetly.

Just loooong slips n’ slides that make you moan at the feeling of his wet precum webbing up your orifice. “B-but it can’t be nothing because you’re so-”

“S-said it’s nothing, brat.” And, oh, did he just stutter? 

You have no clue- because the very next moment, Sukuna’s shoving in the throbbing girth of his cock. Letting his plump, creaming tip swab its way through your insides, he’s so damn swollen with need that your walls stretch out maddeningly.

And, before you know it, he’s drilling into you like a madman.

“Oh- oh-” The side of your cheek presses against the floor, spit drooling out in a puddle underneath. And each time he’s carressin’ your soft walls with his veins it makes your voice whimper out shrilly. “No something’s- hck! something’s happened-”

“Nothing’s happened…” He’s groaning out, forcefully pressing his weight into you from behind so that his honed divot drags across the roof of your cunt n’ splits you greedily open.

Fuck- he could feel just how wet you were getting with how much deeper he went. Even deeper.

Again and again.

Long, rapid strokes that set your teeth on edge every time you’re feeling the thickened, solid inches of his cock. And, sure, your boyfriend was rude and he fucked even ruder- but right now, it was in such rapid-fire strokes that your eyes damn near popped out of your sky. “There’s- mmm, there’s definitely something.” You just didn’t know why; harder than usual, more feverish. 

A particularly hard jackhammer that leaves your mind dizzy at the volume of squishy, syrupy precum swirlin’ around your insides. “Ya think?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that he was fucking you almost animalistically. He pounds you into the ground like he’s trying to make your body remember the pattern of the carpet- unable to even make it to the bed- unable to even tease you as he usually would. 

Unable to do anything but glue his swole, sweetened tip against your cervix and watch you whine. “Oh- oh my god-”

“Heh, ‘Kuna’s’ just fine, mama.” Ah, there was his usual mean talk. But you can’t help but note that something in his gruff baritone sounded more…raspy. More ruined.

And Sukuna’s biting his pearly-white canines into the shell of your ear like he’s trying to stop that lecherous tremble of his voice. Trying to stop himself from speaking his next words- “Or- or how’d you think about- hah…the father of your kids?”

“Oh-” Spittle drips from your mouth like a gloss now. And your jaw drops as your fuzzy brain finally connects the dots: of what occurred at the store just earlier, and…this.

The way that Sukuna’s large, bulging tip throbs at the mere idea. He’s catching the realization in your hazed peripherals and shovelling his long cock into you even deeper to stop you from saying a word about him. “Yeah? Yeah? Ya like that- hah, idea, brat?” He’s hissing, grumbling. “So what if I fuck a kid into ya, hm? One that looked just like me?”

Your entire body shivers, goosebumps raising at the notion. “Sh-shit is that what you want, Kuna?” Babbling stupidly, your pupils criss-cross with every sloppy drag of his prolonged length. “To get me pregnant now?”

“What I want?”

Something in the way he says it almost makes it sound like he’s seething. Like he’s in disbelief, Sukuna thrusts up into you so hard that the curve of his ballsack hits your treacly cunt with a pointed thwack! 

And he’s poking into you so deeeeeply, longingly bruising his vein-covered shaft against your every hidden cranny. “Mama- oh, mama, you have no fucking idea.” Then he holds onto your waist and angles your hips just right to smack-smack-smack your g-spot with his flared ridge. “I don’t wanna just get ya pregnant, silly girl.”

“Oh- ngh.”

“I can’t stop until I get ya pregnant.” Manhandling your spine to arch into his plush, puckered pecs. It wasn’t just enough to have his cock repeatedly bashing in your womb, he snaked up one hand and bent you backwards into him. So your head lolled behind you, and his mouth crashed into yours- “I need to. Need to fill you all up. Fuck you all full with my first kid. Have you be called ‘mama.’ To have a cute lil’ son that looks, heh, just like me. I can’t- can’t—”

The globular crown of his shaft pulses, hotly-red and glistening with so much of your slick. Wadded pre that streams out in place of cum (for now.) One of his hands slither down to cup your slickly glimmering pussy, pinching your clit with thick fingerpads.

“S-soon we’ll have to go back to the store.” Letting off a splosh of stringy precum that spurts out with a primal squelch. Almost a premonition.

“W-we do?”

And then he’s letting out a small gurgling sound that nearly sounded like a whimper. “Mhm, in about nine months so they’ll really be able to see my kid.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Quiet ones…

“M-maybe a son with your personality, pretty.” Ino drawls out, spittle lining his pouty, puffy mouth. “And a d-daughter with my cursed energy- oh, maybe another son, too…”

You don’t know what’s gotten into him.

But he’s certainly pumping himself into you, again and again. With his ruddied, glistening tip swabbin’ your tight orifices- and after each stroke he only seemed to be getting more honest. More pussydrunk.

Gurgling out primally from the back of his throat, “And then oh, I hope they all have your p-pretty eyes and your pretty smile.” Ino damn near giggles euphorically at the thought, his hands groping underneath your ass cheeks to pull you in closer. “But they’d be the cutest kids ever if they look anything like you, sweetness.”

“Oh, f-fuck, Taku—” You’re throwing your head back, nails digging into where they were clasped on his deltoids. “You’re so serious-”

“I am.” Leaning in. Gravely. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You’re struggling to get out, through the sheer pressurized force of his constant hits. And they were just so accurate, too, just spearheading against your g-spot with the globed edge of his shaft. “I th-thought you were hah- half-joking-”

“I’m dead fucking serious, pretty.” Ino’s molten eyes widen, pink lips tilting upwards. “You’re not leaving this bed until I get you pregnant.”

That’s what it was - that’s what it was supposed to be. Just a joke where you’d pondered out loud that you n’ him would make some cute kids.

You just didn’t think it’d end up with you in a damn mating press of all things- with your limp limbs sliding down the small of his toned waist. Ones that he’s promptly pulling upwards even tighter, shovelling his bulging tip with a wet thwack! “Yeah…cute…the cutest kids.” Almost like a damn mantra, he’s repeating it over and over.

He could already see it - with you all round n’ glowing, or you holding a kid that looked like the perfect mixture of the two of you, you underneath him trying to stay quiet as you beg for another one-

“O-oh-” His sweaty head drops, falling into the crook of your neck with a groan. And Ino’s gliding a hand down your front, his pearly whites biting into your skin just to stop himself from cumming right then and there. “Have you thought about baby names a-already?”

“Baby names?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, “Right now?”

“Mhmmm, we’re gonna need enough for every kid m’gonna fuck into ya, pretty.” Ino’s large brown eyes nearly beg, plead. 

He’s fucking upwards into you like he’s daring you to get a word in edgewise, just planting the cutest squelching kisses at the back of your pussy. Once. Twice. Thrice. “And t-trust me-” So pussydrunk by now that he couldn’t stop stuttering, he presses down on that lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you. “-we’re gonna need a lot of baby names.”

You didn’t doubt it.

Not one single bit. Ino’s swollen, ruddied tip squirts out a few lines of precum that wetly wash down the sides of your cunt, dribbling out in a glistening ring across his base. “And I take it that y-you’ve already picked out a few?”

“Oh, sweetness, I’ve picked out about ten.” He’s murmuring- more to himself as he runs through a few: Hikaru? Ayumi? He’s going through his list and reaching about Kaoru before he’s catching the way your mouth shapes around the name voicelessly.

As if you were in disbelief- oh, was he saying all that out loud?

He doesn’t feel a single shred of regret at that. In fact, he’s only tunneling his long, veiny cock into you even further to dumbify you enough to stop you from thinking, spank after spank of his incredible hips that leave your eyes heart-shaped, and your mouth drooling.

To which he softly kisses the dampened corner of your lips, and then spits.

“But, of course- you’ll be the one p-picking them out, sweetness.” Lovingly cooing down at you, Ino grits his teeth as he feels your clamping get even greedier. Needier. Closer. Almost until it was hard for him to pull out after each recoiling thump against your cervix, “Momma’s always gonna have first pick after, hngh, all.”

He’s then slithering a free hand down to pinch your perky clit, sending sparks running up your spine.

You’re bawling from both pairs of your lips, “I-is that so?”

“Mhmm—you don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing. Okay, pretty?” Just drawling out, with sloppy drag after drag that he’s honing out to hit your sweetest spots perfectly. “Just gotta t-take everything I give-” At that very moment he’s splashin’ out a particularly voluminous wad of buttery pre. 

Letting it swirl around in time with the way he rolls circles on the top of your clit. Again and again.

Ino plugs up the end of your pussy with all his syrup- as if a precursor for something more, something later. “Just gotta get p-pregnant. And then m’gonna take gooood care of you, pretty. Gonna massage you, spoil you, soothe you, anything you e-ever want. Take care of our lil’ ones, too.” And then he’s hitting your g-spot so hard, your clit so hard in a sudden spank. “And then m’gonna hafta ask you for another, please?”

He’s asking you for another while not even having become a father to your first.

Yet.

And at that very moment you’re hitting your sudden high, Ino’s cock pumping a few splatters of creamy cum as you do. Again and again and again- he’s been holding back for soooo fucking long. And he can focus on making your high the best it’s ever been on your next round- right now, he’s more concentrated on stuffing every inch of your womb with his cobwebs of cum.

Splattered everywhere, drenching the sheets underneath in an ivory puddle as you clench.

You feel him hit your g-spot at a precise peak of your own orgasm and you gasp- “I-I think it might just- ngh-” Feeling his sploshing waves dribble in and out, get thrusted furiously in and out. “-have taken…really.”

“Oh?” Ino pants, his hazy eyes nearly closed in his bursting high. And even as he fucks you thoroughly through your wave of bliss n’ leans back, you could still feel the ribbons of his sap stream outwards. Like it’s never-ending. “S’that so? Good.”

And lovingly - so lovingly - Ino plummets his bulbous cocktip against your womb.

“So…baby names?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - HEIR!

“G-get pregnant-”

“Toru, ngh-”

“Fuck, I need you to get pregnant, sweetheart.” In the dimness of your bedroom (the lights had long since shattered, the power in this entire ward of Tokyo gone) Gojo leans in and you swear the sides of his blue eyes have lightning bolts flickering out of them.

Pure fucking desperation.

He’s caressing his trembling hand down your body first and then his, letting the cool wave of reverse cursed energy mend any injuries possible. And he utters- “I don’t just want it.” Even closer. “I need it.”

Something at the back of the strongest’s voice breaks, and you feel goosebumps take over your skin.

“F-fuck.” 

Gojo’s plump, reddened tip sticks against the doorway to your womb for a second, and his pupils flare even wider as he’s taking it alllllll in with the power of his Six Eyes. “Oh, it hasn’t taken yet, sweetheart.”

“Still not yet?” You’re moaning out, feeling a little crazed. Because it’s simply been hours by now. Hours. And you have half the mind to knock at the doors of all those elders that put the idea of an heir into his mind, and tell them to deal with Gojo Satoru gone…feral.

Absolutely rutting, he’s pushin’ his wide cockhead into your cervix and letting off a crazed giggle at the way the poor end of your pussy bruises. You whisper, “S-Satoru?”

He jolts like he’d just heard your voice.

And then he looks up-

Oh.

Fuck.

His eyes. Ravenous. You were never letting him attend another jujutsu society meeting ever again.

You’re limp under his superhuman strength, and it’s like Gojo doesn’t even realize just how harshly he’s holding onto you. Manhandling you down. Bending you into such a filthy fucking mating press that it makes your heart race, with your knees hitting your tits and Gojo’s maw catching yours in an open-mouthed kiss. 

“It hasn’t taken yet, sweetheart.” He’s hissing out like a broken record, nose crinkling at the sudden clench of your velvety walls. 

And before you can gurgle out a single word, he’s pumping his ravaged, aching shaft inside. Hitting your womb with a sudden bang! It sets your teeth on edge and your fists curling in on themselves.

Only for him to push again and again and again, you swear he’s hammering out just about three thrusts in one sultry second. And his pink orifice drivels out a line of creamy sap that adds to the mess sploshin’ inside you. “Hasn’t taken yet, hasn’t taken yet h-hasn’t…”

Reverse cursed energy buzzing once more as he’s pressing a hand down on top of your cumflated tummy and feeling. 

“Still hasn’t taken n’ I n-need to-” And then he’s softly rolling his thumb over your clit as he usually would - usually. Except, this time, he’s letting his jujutsu go wild sending vibrations through your sensitive nub. 

You’re sobbing out at the pure force of his thrusts, every passing second making you feel more and more light-headed. “Satoru, are you even okay?”

“Do I look okay, my wife?” Gojo’s snowy brows pinched, something crazed behind his dilated pupils. And he’s genuinely asking you for an answer, genuinely letting his strong body twitch any time you’re letting off a pretty noise, as if that was enough to overstimulate him even more than his constant rutting.

Animalistic.

Half-gone, he’s squirting out a wad of webbed precum and nearly whines as he watches the slick line trail towards the entrance to your womb. All puddled up at the end of your cervix- “Sh-shit, and you’re telling me it s-still hasn’t taken, Toru?” After so long? After so many hours?

After Gojo’s practically rubbin’ his long, aching cock raw on your slippery folds.

“Well, n-not yet…” And there was something about the way he said it that makes your pussy clamp down on his rovering, thickened cock. Your husband takes it headlong like he predicted it- and you’re wondering if he actually did have that power, unlocking an entire new side to him, once he raises his free set of slender fingers and starts counting.

You whimper, feeling your thighs shake uncontrollably, “Wh-what are you…”

“Just watch, sweetheart.” Staring right through your womb like he thought you could see, too. He’s timing a countdown under his breath—“One.”

Clamoring for purchase on any point of his sculptured body, his shoulders, his tensed abs. “Shit- shit, it feels so-”

“Two.”

You’re throwing your head back with a strangled squeal, his targeted vision making it so easy for Gojo to press against your sweetest spots. To push. To pump. To—”Three”—send you over the edge.

Your high bursts out like never before- each one stronger than the last, and Gojo’s just carnally pushin’ you through each wave of bliss. They’re taking over you until you can see nothing but white, your entire body left at his damn mercy.

“It- it-” And Gojo could see every peak of it, so he was accurately bashin’ you in whenever it mattered the most. Again and again. 

Loooong, probing strikes- so many, so hard that he barely even realizes when he’s reaching his high too. For the strongest - the all-seeing - he couldn’t even register that.

Not until his creamy seed drips out of you in pearly dewdrops, slathering the tops of your folds in a gluey few layers. He lets it all slosh ‘round inside of you, purposefully making the filthiest mess that soaks his curly white happy trail and leaves his skin glistening.

More and more and more.

So many miry ribbons of it that you feel plugged full, a second coating of sap taking over your cunt. It just felt so good to have his liquid heat filling you up like this.

And then Gojo glides his hand down your front and flinches- “Oh.” You look up at him. “It took.”

“O-oh-” Before you have the time to properly register it, Gojo raises his slick-glazed fingers in the air and snaps them once. And as soon as you blink, you’re realizing that you’d changed positions- that you’d ended up with your back against his prominent pecs, your head against his collarbone, his back against the sheets, strong arms under your thighs.

You’d found yourself in a full nelson now - his cum pouring out of you like a fountain, Gojo’s eyes still locked on your tummy from behind. 

Analyzing. 

Did…did he just teleport the two of you? You don’t think he even realized-

Wrecked. 

Gojo Satoru sounded absolutely, positively wrecked as he speaks, “So…d’you wanna find out whether we’re having a daughter or a son, my wife?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Strict parent

“So, we think I’ll be the strict parent and you’ll be the-”

“Sh-shit, Hiromi-”

“Awww, now I have to start again, angel.” The dark-haired man nearly pouts - mockingly, with his fingers ruthless on your clit.

For just about the nth time that night, he’s halting his motions just before your oncoming orgasm. Edging and edging you to the brink of your high- and then immediately taking his roughened fingertips off of your sensitive nub.

And you swear you can nearly sob, straddling Higuruma’s muscular waist and attempting to pathetically bounce your hips backwards into his rovering digits, his cock. At a standstill as he babbled away his dreams of having a child with you- getting you pregnant.

All after that damned fight at Shinjuku that left his life flashing before his very eyes. And him realizing that one of his very favorite moments was one that hadn’t happened yet - having a cute lil’ family with you.

Higuruma lets his thumb slide up your folds, parting them easily to push down on the button of your clit. He’s watching as you cutely squirm, “Anyway- guess I’ll be the strict part, hm? And you can be the cutie that spoils them.”

“Yes- yes-” You’re whimpering, breath hitching as his globular mushroom tip starts thrusting upwards. “Please, baby-”

“Orrrr I dunno—” He’s meanly drawling out, “-guess you’re too spoiled yourself, hm? Like-” Dark, glistening eyes dipping downwards to gaze upon where your flooded orifice was being stretched out just right. “-this?”

And just then he’s fucking up into you. Hard.

The entire length of his long, veiny cock reaching for the roof of your pussy, his globed shaft presses deep against the cervix of your cunt and then some. Then drag-drag-draaaagging down to let your tight hole feel his sensitive slit.

Again. 

And again. And again and again and again- you’re just seeing stars on the needy cadence of his cock. “Please- yes yes yes yes just like that-”

“What did I say about being spoiled, hm?” He’s raising a dark brow in amusement, lightly swatting your clit in punishment. “My needy angel-” Another spank. “Needy pussy.”

You’re huffing, throwing your arms over his shoulders and letting your hands run through his short raven hair. “And whose fault is that?”

“Ah ah- getting too mouthy-” Another - harder this time, and yet, not even a fraction of his strength. He was simply rendering your head woozy, with your hips bouncing back restlessly into his cock. “-unless ya don’t want to cum, sugar…”

“I do, I do!” Panicked, you attempt to gnaw down on the insides of your cheek to stop all the back-talk, just in case he decided that this next orgasm was a good time to stop, too. To edge you.

But, of course, Higuruma can’t have that, either.

And faster than you can register, he’s jerking his muscular thighs upwards at a constant pace to help bounce you along. Hitting the globes of your ass against his slowly-reddening pelvis with a plap! “Then again…” He’s grinning, “-how fun it is to make you beg, my angel.”

“You’re just- hck!” Babbling out as he swipes his thumb between your pussylips, tender strokes of your clit suddenly turning into the rudest bashes. “-just plain mean, Hiromi.”

“That I am, sugar.”

And he was fucking you like it, too.

Like he was going insane any second he wasn’t deep inside you and throbbing his red, thickened cockhead against the start of your womb. If he wasn’t making you feel every inch of him - leaving your brain devoid of any thoughts but ones with him, you, n’ a kid that looked like a mix of the two of you. 

Your tastebuds sizzle with spittle as he pokes against your g-spot, perfectly having mapped you out. And you shake once he does a lecherous lil’ slip and slide to rub down it perfectly, “Sh-shit I’m just so- ngh! close.”

“Oho?” His face darkens into something more predatory, “So…if you wanna cum then tell me what parent m’gonna be?” Just teasing you.

He almost didn’t expect you to prattle out with your spit-slicked lips, “The- the mean one.” Needily annoyed, because your orgasm was so close- and yet, he was slightly slowing down his pace, just to watch the way you greedily bounced back into him. “I just- hah, fuck! You’re gonna be the one that ngh, gets all huffy about homework and curfews and—”

“And?”

Entranced. Hypnotized by that drunken look in your eyes, the way your pupils seemed to turn into hearts whenever he hit that one spot just right. “N’ still love ‘em soooo much that you beg me for another.”

“Fuck.”

And you were damn right, too.

For that—you’re being given another few spanks onto your cunt, hard enough that you’re letting your head loll backwards. Taken over by so much pleasure that you’re hurtling straight towards your long-awaited high. 

Flashes of it taking you by surprise, your body shakes on top of his as he pounds you viciously through it. Holding you through each peak- “Yeah- yeahhhh, cum f’me then. Since you deserve it so much-” Yet another spank, “-spoiled angel.”

“Fuck- ngh–” You’re furrowing your brows - barely, even. “You’re close, too, Hiromi.”

“And that I am.” 

Echoing his very same words from before, you’re way too drunk on his cock to realize when Higuruma’s letting his back shift further down the bed. Pushing your face into his puffy, prominent pecs, and his weepy cock just bursting with the first few droplets of his cum into your womb.

Rough thrusts, rougher pushes of his wettened dollops of seed.

Higuruma’s lips break out with the meanest grin, “And now, for the fun part.” As his syrupy warmth, wads of slick cum start to fill you up, he whispers. “You’re gonna make the best momma.”

A/N. Apologies for the slight lateness babygirls G*ogle D*cs tried to delete this TWICE-

T - 30 days The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom. Caleb is taking a shower. At 3am. He had just returned from god knows where.

You stand at the bathroom door, a little nervous, wanting to discuss something with him. Just as you are trying to figure out the best way to phrase it, you hear a strange sound coming from inside. After listening carefully, you realize with a gasp that he was taking care of himself…

Each breath and groan is like a heavy hammer blow, relentlessly pounding on your heart. The pain spreads like a tidal wave, leaving you sinking in it, unable to breathe.

Actually, today is your wedding anniversary. Your fifth year of marriage, and you've never consummated it. So, he preferred to take care of himself rather than touch you?

As his breathing grows more rapid, he suddenly lets out a low growl, his voice strained with barely suppressed emotion, "Pipsqueak-" That one word delivers the final, fatal blow.

Your heart pounds, as if something just shattered into dust. You try to cover your mouth to stifle your sobs, and turn to run, but stumble on your first step, bumping into the sink and falling to the floor.

"Y/N?" Caleb's voice inside hasn't calmed down yet; you can tell he is trying to control himself, but his breathing is still heavy.

"I...I need to use the restroom, I didn't know you were taking a shower..." you stammer, clumsily grabbing the sink to stand up.

The floor and sink are wet. The more you try, the more helpless the situation becomes. By the time you finally manage to stand, Caleb emerges from the door, his white bathrobe hastily pulled on with the belt fastened tightly.

"Did you fall? Let me help you." He makes a move to pick you up. Tears well in your eyes from the pain, but you push his hand away, your expression a mixture of distress and determination. "No need, I can do it myself."

After nearly slipping again, you limp and stagger back to your bedroom. No, "escape" is the more accurate word. For the five years you were married to Caleb Xia, you've been doing nothing but constantly running away.

Running away from the outside world, from everyone's strange looks, and from Caleb's pity and sympathy—his wife is a cripple.How can a cripple be worthy of the brilliant and successful Caleb Xia?

You were not always like this...

Caleb follows you out, his voice gentle and concerned. "Did you hurt yourself? Let me see." "No, I'm fine." You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding your disheveled state under it. "Are you really alright?" He sounds genuinely concerned. “Mmm.” You nod vigorously, back facing him. “So, are you going to sleep? Didn’t you want to go to the bathroom?” “I don’t want to anymore now, let’s sleep?” You whisper.

“Alright," he pauses. "By the way, today is our anniversary. I bought you a present. You can open it tomorrow and see if you like it.” “Okay.” The present is on the bedside table; you've already seen it, but you already know what is inside without even opening it.

It's the same size box every year, containing the exact same necklace. In your drawer, there are already nine identical ones. This is the tenth.

The conversation ends there. Caleb turns off the light and lies down across from you. The damp scent of bodywash fills the air, but you barely feel the bed sink. In the two-meter-wide bed, you sleep on one side, and him on the other side at the very edge; there is enough space in between  for at least another 3 people.

Neither of you mention "pipsqueak", nor what he had just done in the bathroom, as if nothing  happened. You lie stiffly, eyes burning with pain.

Pipsqueak, or MC, was his adopted younger sister, his first love, his goddess. Upon high school graduation, MC went abroad, leaving Caleb behind. He was devastated.

You and Caleb were classmates in middle and high school. You admit that you had a crush on him at the time. Back then, he was the school heartthrob, a cool and aloof academic star, while you considered yourself pretty ordinary. Not the most academically gifted, nor the most popular or pretty. You had a face everyone could recognize, but not many could describe. Besides, you had larger dreams back then. You were a dancer; started when you were young. The stage was where you felt the most at home.  So, it was just a secret crush for you; you never thought you would ever stand beside him. 

Until you return home for summer vacation after graduating from the conservatory and encounter Caleb in a wreck.

That night, he was drunk, walking erratically, crossing the street without looking at the traffic lights. A car sped towards him, and you, worried and following close behind, pushed him out of the way, getting hit by the car yourself.

You thought you had done good for yourself up to that point, successfully completing your dance studies and hoping to get a position in one of the large dance companies in the city.

The accident left you with a serious limp. You'd never be able to dance again.

Shortly after, he swore off drinking and married you.

He was forever guilty, forever grateful, forever soft-spoken, and forever showered you with gifts and money. Yet at the same time, forever indifferent. The only thing he couldn't give you was love.

In the beginning, you naively thought that time could heal all wounds, dilute all the pain. But you never could have imagined that five years later, he would still remember the name "pipsqueak" so vividly, calling out to her when he is serving himself. In the end, you were simply too foolish…

When Caleb gets up for his Colonel duties, you still pretend to be asleep. You hear him talking to the housekeeper outside: "I have a company dinner tonight. Tell my wife not to wait for me and to go to bed early." After giving the instructions, he comes back into the room to check on you again. You hide under the covers, your pillow soaked with tears. Usually, when he goes to any of the Farspace Fleet galas, you would prepare his outfit in advance.

But not tonight. He goes to the dressing room to change himself and heads to work. You open your eyes, feeling them swell uncomfortably.

Your phone alarm rings. It's the time you set for yourself to get up and study.

Because of your leg injury, since getting married, you spend most of your time at home, rarely going out. You divide your day into blocks, finding something to occupy your time.  You pick up your phone, turn off the alarm and start scrolling aimlessly through various apps. Your mind is a jumbled mess, unable to absorb anything. Until, you suddenly come across a video on a certain social media platform.

The person in the video looks so familiar… The account name: Pips_apple. The posting time was last night.

You click on the video, and immediately, upbeat music starts playing, followed by someone shouting: One, two, three, welcome back Pipsqueak! Cheers! It's Caleb's voice. He broke his vow of abstinence from alcohol. He's even a little drunk.

But would Caleb really shout like that? The Caleb you remember from high school was a friendly, but aloof academic genius. Not only was he serious when doing course work, but even more so on the sports field; he paid no attention to any of the girls who offered him water bottles and love letters.  Later, the Caleb who became your husband was even more polite, his emotions so stable they were almost unwavering. He never smiled, never got angry. He was always detached, so detached that when you occasionally touched his fingers, even his body temperature was cold.

The camera pans across everyone's faces in the video. You see a slightly tipsy Caleb, his eyes sparkling, raising his glass and laughing loudly at the camera: "Welcome home, Pips!"

So, he could smile after all. He could be passionate too. He would call girls by their nicknames. Just not you. 

You close the app immediately, struggling to catch your breath. You open your email, and read the acceptance letter on your phone over and over again, at least a hundred times.

A graduate school offer from a foreign university, the thing you originally planned to discuss with him last night. You wanted to study abroad for a master's degree; was that okay? But now it seems there is no need to discuss it with him. Five years of marriage, countless sleepless nights.  You needed to get out. If you didn't find something to do with your life now that MC is back, how would you pass the long hours? Would you spend your whole life waiting for Caleb to come home?

You had already waited for too long. The pain of waiting... is unbearable now. Today marks the countdown to you leaving him.

T - 29 days Today your plans are a little different than the usual.

Your offer was likely part of the program's last round of admissions, so you wanted to confirm it as soon as possible. The first item on your agenda is to pay the confirmation fee to the school. You breathe a sigh of relief as your phone lights up with the notification from your bank card deduction.

In the evening, you change your clothes and prepare to go out.  Your housekeeper, Mrs. Chen, is surprised. "Madam, where are you going?" Without Caleb's company, you seldom leave the house.

"Oh, friend of mine is performing at the theatre tonight and asked me to meet them," you say. Actually, you were going to stay in a hotel in the city. You have an interview tomorrow morning with an alumni of the program in the area. You were worried about traffic and not making it on time.

“But…” Mrs. Chen looks at your leg, “Shall I go with you?” “No need, it’s a get-together with my girlfriends.” Your expression remains unchanged. “Then I’ll inform the Colonel.” Mrs. Chen is uneasy, genuinely afraid something might happen to you, and didn’t want to take responsibility for whatever goes down. “No need, don’t disturb him. I’ll call him after and have him pick me up.” 

As you step out into the street, you instinctively lower your head and hunch your shoulders, hiding your face into the collar of your coat. Since injuring your leg, the confident and vibrant you on stage has disappeared. 

Mrs. Chen always said that it was best if your husband goes out with you. Caleb always said that you should stay home if he isn't with you. Neither of them knew. The only thing you were afraid of more than going out alone was going out with Caleb. Because everyone who sees you looks at you with the same question: "How did someone like him marry a girl like that?"

T - 28 days Your interview goes surprisingly smoothly. After slowly wandering around Linkon City alone for the first time in many years, you hail a taxi and head home. In the car, you silently gaze at the lights outside the window, when suddenly, you see Caleb's car parked on the side of the street.

"Wait, please stop for a moment," you quickly call to the driver. Caleb's car is parked in front of a restaurant. Yesterday before leaving for work, Caleb had casually mentioned that it was his turn to treat his friend group to dinner.

You get out of the car as if possessed.

Upon arriving, you tell the server at the front, "reservation under Mr. Xia," and give them the the last four digits of Caleb's phone number. The waiter leads you to a private room. "Thank you," you say, hesitating in front of the door. From outside, you can hear lively voices.

"I need to get home early today, I got home drunk last night and my wife was furious at me!" "Come on~ Are we still tight? Who's the one that used to always toot "bros before hoes"? Now you're henpecked? Sounds like Caleb's the only real one left!" MC jokes, her voice cheery and light.

So this is the kind of person she was. This is the kind of personality that Caleb likes. Unfortunately, you are far from it; you couldn't even pretend to be if you tried. 

Inside, Caleb's friend continues, "How can Caleb be the same as me? Y/N wouldn't dare raise her voice at him!" "Hey, by the way," MC's soft voice rings out again, "Caleb, I heard your wife is disabled? Why?"

No one answers MC's question. Your heart clenches.

Caleb's group of friends start talking amongst themselves. "Seriously, Caleb, we feel sorry for you. Look at you, you have money, power, you're handsome, a real catch. What kind of woman couldn't you marry? Why did you have to marry a cripple?" "Honestly, dude, you're the most outstanding among us. Now that you've married Y/N, whether you're at a meeting, a social event, a press conference, or any other occasion that requires a partner, you can't even take her out. Don't you think you're losing out?"

So that's how it is…

Caleb always said he didn't need you to get involved in his affairs; he was more than happy to provide for you. Everyone praised you for living a life of luxury, but as it turns out, it is simply because he doesn't think you are presentable enough.

A bitter laugh comes from Caleb. “She was so kind to me after all; I owe her.” “You owe her? You've given her so much; you've paid it back ten-fold by now!” “Exactly! You should have just given her a lump sum back then. Was it necessary to jeopardize the happiness of the rest of your life?” “I'm telling you, you should really think about it. What can she do for you? She's useless at social events, and you'd even have to worry about her spilling water at home. "Caleb~ have some water" like this? Like this?"  A burst of laughter erupts from the room, mixed with MC's exaggerated gasp. "Caleb! Does your wife really walk like that?"

You feel all the blood rush to your head as the anger and humiliation tips you off balance. You force the door open and are immediately met with a roar of laughter.

T - 27 days One of Caleb's friends, Gideon, carries a cup of water in both hands, walking with an exaggerated limp, and calling out in a high-pitched voice, "Caleb, Caleb, have some water, Caleb, ah—I fell down, Caleb, hug me—" The mocking performance is a hit. MC, sitting next to Caleb, leans on his shoulder as she shakes from laughter. 

You turn to look at your husband, hoping that the person you loved most would show some sort of reaction.  Caleb, however, remains completely silent. Gideon turns around with a triumphant smile, "How does that sound, Cale-" Before he could finish the question, he sees you standing in the doorway, and his smile freezing. "Y/N..."

Everyone looks towards the door. They are stunned.

MC quickly removes herself from Caleb's shoulder, smiling as she reaches out her hand. "Ah! This must be Caleb's legendary wife! Please come in, I'm Caleb's childhood friend."

You look at everyone in the private room, heart turning cold.

Caleb finally stands up and walks towards you. "Y/N, what brings you here? They were just joking, don't take it to heart." You stare at the man in front of you, feeling utterly unfamiliar with him, more unfamiliar than ever before. He calls this joking? So he's actually siding with them?

"Yes, sister-in-law... sister-in-law! I'm sorry, I was just joking, don't be angry," Gideon apologized, putting down his cup.

Caleb walks up, intending to put his arm around you. You suddenly remember MC laughing on his shoulder, his hands pleasuring himself in the bathroom, him calling out "Pipsqueak" as he came, and suddenly the thought of his hands on you is utterly filthy. You dodge his arm. “Y/N,” Caleb looks at his empty hands in surprise and sighs. “I apologize on their behalf. Don’t be angry, okay? I’ll bring you something when we get back; whatever you want.”

MC glares at Gideon playfully. “Go on, apologize! You've made the Colonel's wife angry! Do you think everyone is like me, clumsy and clueless, letting you joke around like that?” Gideon immediately gets defensive. “I already apologized! I didn’t know she'd suddenly appear out of thin air; I was just joking.” “A joke is only a joke if the person it is about finds it funny.” You summon all your courage to spit out the words. 

"Alright, that's enough," Caleb puts himself between you and Gideon. "Y/N," Caleb's gaze is as calm as ever, "They mean no harm; they were just joking. For my sake, forgive them. Shall I have the driver take you home?"

"Sister-in-law..." MC pouts as she stands beside him, "If you're really angry, be angry with me. Don't ignore your husband. They only organized today's gathering because I came back... Caleb, why don't you ask your wife to stay for dinner? I'll offer her a toast as an apology." "Sorry," you look at the two of them with a scorning smile. "I don't drink alcohol, especially not this tea-flavored liquor."

Caleb's expression turns serious. "Y/N, MC was trying to make it up to you, why are you so sharp-tongued?" Make it up to you? Only a fool would think so. Is Caleb a fool? No, he isn't. He is simply biased; whichever side his heart leans towards is right.

You look at the two people in front of you, and the several people behind them. They were all on the same side, while you are just an outsider who had intruded into their world. No, in fact, you've never truly entered their world; not even the periphery.

You struggle to hold back tears, letting out a soft "heh," before turning to leave. Behind you, MC's voice calls worryingly, "Caleb, your wife!" "It's alright, she's very understanding. I'll go comfort her when I go back." He sneaks a glance at your retreating figure and texts the driver to pick you up. 

You wipe away your tears forcefully, gait getting more unsteady. Surely, they'll continue to laugh at you after you left, right? You are crippled; you aren't good enough for Caleb Xia. This realization had haunted you like a curse for the past five years. 

By the time Caleb's driver arrives, you are no longer by the restaurant. Caleb frowned at the text from the chauffer. He calls you, but you didn't answer. He tries again, but your phone is switched off now.  His buddies speak up more. "Caleb, how did you manage to spoil such a girl? With your status and appearance? There's women willing to grovel at feet! You're too good natured, letting your wife give you the cold shoulder." Caleb doesn't say anything.  "Marrying her is already a huge blessing! Who else would want her if not you?"  MC quickly interjects at just the right second. "Gege, don't listen to everyone saying bad things about Y/N. They're just want the best for you. Don't take it to heart!" "I'm not angry," Caleb puts away his phone. "It's alright, she won't go anywhere."

After all, for the past five years, you really haven't been anywhere except stay at home; you had nowhere to go.

T - 26 days You don't go home. You check back into the hotel you stayed at the previous day. All the grievances and pain erupt the moment the hotel room door closes. The image of Gideon limping, mocking you, kept flashing before your eyes, the laughter echoing in your ears like a curse.

Actually, you already know what Caleb's peers say about you in private, just never mentioned it to him before. They were his ride-or-die colleagues, you understood. He worked very hard for the safety of Linkon City; you understood. Therefore, you didn't want to cause him any trouble or fallouts with his friends and coworkers

But now it seems that you were overthinking things.

How could he have a falling out with his friends because of you? Those were his brothers since his DAA days! And you? Merely a debt he owed to himself as repayment for gratitude; a burden. Without you, his life would be happier.

"She's just a cripple! Who would want her if you didn't marry her?" "What more could she ask for than marrying someone like Caleb?" "If I were the Colonel, I'd rather be the one crippled by a car accident than marry someone like that."

Your heart and lungs ache terribly.

With trembling hands, you open a photo album on your phone you haven't dared touch in five years—a record of your training and performances during your undergraduate years. Since you could no longer perform on stage, you sealed all your dance-related photos and videos here, password protected, and never opened them again. Now, your trembling fingers randomly click on a video. Perfectly in time with the music, you twirl, leap, and land lightly on your feet Back then, you were radiant, graceful, and received thunderous applause…

So, was saving him a mistake?

Honestly, the moment you pushed Caleb out of the way, you never thought of marrying him. He was the one who said he wanted to marry you and planned a grand proposal, knelt before you with a huge diamond ring, and gave you hope…

For the first time in five years, you collapse onto the bed and sob uncontrollably. You cry for a long time

So long that no more tears flow from your eyes, leaving only pain in your chest, burning and licking like flames. Yet the more it hurt, the clearer you became about your situation.

You go the bathroom and wash your face thoroughly to calm down. Looking at your lifeless reflection in the mirror, you silently tell yourself, "Crying once is enough. Don't cry anymore. Now please take care of yourself for once."

T - 25 days Perhaps because you didn't sleep a wink the night before out of nervousness for your interview, you actually sleep quite well today. You wake up on time and turn on your phone.

Countless messages flood in all from one person—Caleb.

Walking alone on the sidewalk, head down, you review the student visa application process until a pair of leather shoes appear in front of you. You didn't expect someone to deliberately block your path, and bump into them.

If the person didn't catch you, you definitely would've fallen.  Unfortunately, that person is the last one you wanted to see.  Caleb.

"Y/N!" You can tell he is angry, but trying his best to speak in a controlled manner. “Y/N, why didn’t you come home?” He holds your shoulders, voice softening as gentle and tender as ever.

You should know why I’m not going home, you think, hurriedly stuffing the notes you took from your interview back into your bag, fastening it tightly. “What’s this?” he asks, looking down at your bag. “Nothing, just some paper.” You feign composure, fingers gripping the bag so tightly they turn white. “Give it to me,” he offers. No, you can't let him see them. You clutch the strap tighter. "Do you need something?" "Give me your phone," he demands. You hesitate for a moment, then take your phone out and hand it to him. The phone is off. He glances at it only once before handing it back. "I called you so many times and sent you so many messages. Why didn't you reply? Are you still angry?"

You breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't asking where you were the night before. If it's only about that… You stay silent for a moment, and decide you didn't want to be angry anymore. You just want to get away. Seeing your silence, Caleb assumes you're still angry and sighs. “Y/N, you're supposed to be the understanding one. Why didn't you come home?”

You swear you didn't want to get worked up about it anymore, but Caleb's words are somehow innocent yet cruel enough to break even a saint.  “So you still think what happened yesterday was my fault? Was I being unreasonable? Should I have praised Gideon for such an accurate depiction as soon as I went in?!” You couldn't take it anymore.

Caleb's face slightly twitches in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was, you can’t control what others say, so just manage your own reaction and pay them no mind.” “I can’t control it, but you can!” you shoot back. “But what were you doing then? You and your pipsqueak, hugging and all over each other.” “Y/N!" His expression finally changes into something that resembles anger, more intense than anything you've seen.  You laugh inwardly.

The name “pipsqueak” is his Achilles’ heel, an untouchable minefield. You have nothing else to say. You clutch your bag, planning to walk past him, but he reaches out and pulls you close by the waist. “I’m sorry, it's my fault. I raised my voice just now,” he says softly. “I just didn’t want you to misunderstand MC. We’re just ordinary friends, like everyone else. I treat her like my sister. She’s not married yet. Don't talk about her like that.”

You don't understand. They were the ones acting like that, MC brushing up against him so brazenly; why is he so afraid to admit it? 

"Oh," you reply monotonously. “Y/N…” Caleb can sense the coldness in your voice. “Why are you still angry? I haven't even confronted you about going to a hotel by yourself without telling anyone, about not reply to any of my messages and calls”. Yes, it's all your fault. You're the unreasonable one here. 

Earlier in your marriage, hearing this from Caleb would have been your worst nightmare. But now? You don't intend on striving to be good enough for him anymore.

T - 24 days Caleb insists on taking you out to eat to "smooth things over".  “Caleb, I’m not hungry.” You don't touch your chopsticks. “I have something to tell you.” “What?” He smiles slightly. “I’ll go with you wherever you want. I’m free all day.” You stare at his almost imperceptible smile, thinking hard about what you can say to those dreamy, purple eyes.

"Caleb..." your throat closes up, betraying your resolve. “Hmm? Y/N?” He takes your hand. “What’s wrong? Want to cry? If you want to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it in.” His voice is so gentle, so incredibly gentle.

Just like back then, when you first emerged from the operating room, the nurses wheeled you back to the floor. He stood by your bedside, his voice so gentle it was almost painful, saying, "Y/N, does it hurt? If it hurts, cry it out, don't hold it in..." Back then, you thought such gentle care was a good remedy for pain. Unfortunately, it took you many years to truly understand that a man's gentleness and care could never be transformed into love...

"Caleb, let's get a divorce," you say softly, pulling your hand away. He frowns; clearly, he didn't expect you to say that. After a brief silence, he picks up a piece of fish, and gently removes the bones with his chopsticks, putting it in your bowl. "Y/N, I know you're still angry, but bringing up divorce is irrational. What will you do if you divorce me? How will you live on your own?"

T - 23 days: Your breathing quickens

In everyone's eyes, for the last five years, you've been Caleb's dependent; without him, you were a pitiful creature, unwanted and unable to survive. He thought so too. "I can do it!" For the first time, you speak up against him, wanting to stand up for yourself.

He just smiles, still assuming you are being stubborn, and places the deboned fish in front of you. "Eat. You're allowed to be angry for a while, but you can't be angry until after you finish eating." "I'm not angry, I really want a divorce!" How can you make Caleb understand that you mentioning divorce isn't just an emotional outburst?

“Y/N.” he puts down his chopsticks, “I canceled two meetings and a practice flight today just to come and spend time with you. I might not have that much time tomorrow or the day after. Let me say it again, MC is a good friend. I treat her no differently than I treat Gideon and the others. She also likes you a lot and has always wanted to be your friend. With your attitude… how can I bring her to you?” “Then there’s no need for us to get close.” You don't think MC actually wants to be friends with you. “Y/N!” Caleb's voice carries a hint of warning.

You focus on eating instead. Even if you were angry, it's not worth taking your anger out on your own stomach. "That's right," Caleb's tone softens again. "Don't mention the word 'divorce' again." You pause, then continue eating with your head down. The next day, you book a physical therapy appointment at AKSO Hospital.

T - 22 days You need to get used to going out alone, so you decide to do some window shopping. Wandering aimlessly through Universum, you spot a familiar figure at a designer jewelry store — MC. Looking at the store name, a feeling of unease settles over you as you unconsciously walk closer.

“Buy it if you like it!” comes her friend's voice. “I can't do that, Tara!" MC exclaims, "It's too expensive. Even though Caleb gave me his card and told me to use it as I please, I feel awkward buying such an expensive item!”

Your steps falter, too heavy to take another step.

“Since he gave it to you, it’s for you to use. When has your brother ever used pleasantries with you He's probably over the moon that you're willing to spend his money.” Tara replies. “That’s true…” MC twirls, showing Tara the necklace she tried on at different angles. You see it too. “Isn’t it beautiful, Tara? I really, really love this necklace! I liked it back in high school, and Caleb promised to buy it for me after graduation, but..."

But?

You laugh bitterly at the irony. But instead, Caleb gives you this necklace every year for your birthday and anniversary. Originally, you had thought that even if Caleb was heartless, at least he remembered your birthday and your anniversary; even if the gift he chose wasn’t thoughtful, it would at least be expensive.

But it turns out he isn’t heartless, nor is he indifferent; on the contrary, he is incredibly thoughtful and devoted. It’s just that what he holds dear has nothing to do with you.

T - 21 days You try to talk about the divorce with Caleb again, this time taking the initiative to meet  him as he gets off work. You walk into the grand foyer of the Farspace Fleet HQ, preparing to text and let him know you're here, when you hear his voice.  "And that concludes your orientation tour."

You slowly turn to see Caleb, his adjutant, Liam, and MC walk out of the elevator. You wait until they make their way closer to the front door to approach the group. "It's been a pleasure showing you around," Liam adds, saluting to MC, "I look forward to working with you, Mrs. Xia".  You nearly choke on your breath, face red and still sputtering as you appear in front of Caleb. Liam looks at you with confusion. "I'm sorry, and you are...?" Caleb's face morphs from surprise to horror, and you see the message behind his furrowed brows and pleading eyes: "don't say anything"

You remember the sneers, the joking, the pity.

"I'm a good friend of the Colonel," you say. "In fact, we have a dinner appointment tonight." Caleb nods vigorously in agreement, quickly dismissing Liam as you, Caleb, and MC walk towards the parking garage. 

When you arrive at Caleb's car, MC doesn’t move, smiling sweetly. “Okay, Gege, you guys go home. I’ll take a taxi myself. Y/N, I’ll return Mr. Xia back to you.”

Back to you? What does she mean, back to you? When did you ever agree to lend your husband out?

She takes the opportunity to cling to your arm, shaking it sweetly. “Y/N, don’t be angry. Today’s misunderstanding wasn’t intentional. Liam just assumed things because Caleb has never personally brought a cadet around before. I didn't have time to explain the situation." Her eyes subconsciously flick to your leg before she continues. “You won’t be angry with us, right?” “Us?” you sneer. “Who is this ‘us’? Who exactly is with whom?” You hate strangers getting close to you — especially her. You pull your arm away. You swear you only pull back lightly. You don’t shove her. You absolutely do not push her. Yet she falls to the ground. “Y/N!!” Caleb shouts your name.

MC reacts faster than both of you. She scrambles up and blocks Caleb completely — pressing herself against him. “Caleb, don’t be angry. Don’t blame Y/N, I’m just careless. She just gently touched me and I lost balance myself. Gege, please don't get angry at your wife because of me, it’ll make me sad…” Only Caleb believes this act. Especially when she deliberately raises her wrist — the scraped skin clearly visible — right in front of him, the glint of the necklace she bought yesterday, the same as yours piercing your eyes. Caleb sees the scrape. His brows knit together, eyes filled with obvious concern.

“Y/N! What’s wrong with you? Why are you so prejudiced against her?” “Me? Prejudiced against her?” you laugh. “What prejudice could I possibly have? After all, she’s Mrs. Xia now.” “You—” He is momentarily speechless before lowering his gaze to MC. “Does it hurt?” “No…” she whimpers, yet she lifts her wrist closer to his chin. He actually lowers his head and gently blows on it.

You have never seen him look at you like that.

“I’ll put some medicine on it later. We can’t let it scar.” Not even after your car accident. Not when you lose your leg. Not when your body is covered in scars. Back then, he gently asked you, “Does it hurt? If it does, cry.” But that wasn't heartache. It was guilt. He never caressed your wounds. When faced with your scars, he escapes. He avoids. He refuses to look at them.

“It’s okay, I'm really alright!” MC’s voice grows even softer “Y/N,” Caleb calls, looking up at you. “Aren’t you going to apologize?” “Why should I apologize?” A sharp sting rushes into your eyes, blurring your vision. You can barely see his face anymore. “Because she calls herself my husband’s wife, I have to apologize?” “Y/N! Why are being sarcastic? Didn’t she explain? Liam simply misunderstood. Why are you holding onto this?”

He is angry again. He always is, whenever you speak up against her. You smile and shake your head. “No, Caleb. You’re wrong. I don’t want to hold onto this at all. I didn’t even expose you two on the spot. Whoever wants to be Mrs. Xia can take the position. I already told you I want a divorce. You should just agree. Then everything becomes perfectly legitimate.” You don’t expose them because there’s no need. Since you are going to divorce him anyway, why add more trouble to your life? It isn’t worth it.

“Your temper is getting more and more outrageous!” he snaps. “There’s a limit to throwing tantrums! Apologize right now!” “I won’t.” You turn to leave. “Stop!” He rushes forward and grabs your wrist. “Where are you going? You pushed her. Her arm is hurt. You're not leaving without saying sorry."

You stare at the hand gripping you. Despair crashes over you like a tidal wave. You look into his eyes and say, slowly, clearly, word by word: “Yes. All I have to deal with is being a cripple for the rest of my life. But oh no, she scratched her arm”

A flash of sharp pain crosses his eyes. He loosens his grip and steps back. The moment you are free, you turn and run toward the elevator. No matter how disheveled you look, you don’t care. You absolutely cannot let him see the tears streaming down your face. From the day you were injured, through your wedding and five years of marriage... This is the first time you use your injured leg to hurt him.

Before, you were so careful about protecting his feelings. You were afraid he felt guilt and remorse, so you never mention the accident five years ago. Even when you had to endure gossip and cold stares, you swallowed everything alone. But now, is he in pain too? You can honestly understand to a certain degree.

He is doomed to carry the burden of you for the rest of his life, unable to shake himself free. How can he not be? His true love is right beside him, yet because of your existence, he can't even be with her openly. How can he not be in pain when the urge to let go is pitted against the torment of his conscience? 

So, Caleb, please let me go, okay?

T - 20 days You return home alone and lay your ten jewelry boxes out in front of you. You stare at the necklaces for a long time, lost in thought. For a moment, you want to smash each one against the wall. But you don't. Impulse solves nothing.

After calming down, you download a secondhand resale app and start looking for sellers who buy luxury goods. You quickly find one in the city and arrange to drop them off tomorrow. Having dealt with this, you turn on your computer and begin focusing intently on your visa application.

You have less than three weeks until you escape your personal hell.

T - 19 days You are so engrossed in your work that you don't even notice Caleb's return.You hurriedly close your laptop when you hear "What are you doing?" coming from the doorway.

Caleb returns, maintaining his usual gentle demeanor, as if nothing happened. He walks to your side and asks in a soft voice, "Watching a show? Studying? What's got you so hooked that you're still up?" He's trying to make conversation.

You press your hand tightly against the laptop; the VISA webpage is still open. "You wouldn't care for it" "I don't even know what it is? Here, let me see. You asked me to tutor you back in high school." He reaches out to try to pry the screen up but you hold on tightly, refusing to let go. He assumes you're still angry, so he stops trying to take it from you. Instead, he sighs and squats down, staring at your profile. "Still angry?"

"No." You're not lying. You've had many feelings: anxiety, disappointment, despair, but definitely not anger. Anger meant that as long as he coaxed you, things would be fine; there was still hope for your marriage. But for you, any last drop hope had already evaporated. Five years… that was enough.

“Y/N, MC and I really have nothing going on. We're just close childhood friends. She came back from abroad, and we all got together to welcome her. The misunderstanding at work today was purely accidental. You have to believe me.”  His voice grows increasingly sweet. You look into his eyes, unable to see the passion behind the soft words. Gentleness is like a program written into his body, running on autopilot.

“Caleb” you finally say, “Aren’t you tired?” He's taken aback, seemingly not understanding what you mean. You give him a bitter smile. "You have someone else in your heart, yet you still fuss over me every day. Aren't you tired?" Caleb's eyes widen. "I don't..." "Caleb, stop lying to yourself! I know some things don't sound so honorable when brought up; it'll make everyone look bad. But actually, divorce is better for both of us. Really. MC is more like the Mrs. Xia you envision yourself with-" "Y/N!" Caleb interrupts you. "Are you still holding onto MC? I've told you so many times." "Caleb, the one who can't get over MC isn't me." You stare at him straight in the eyes. "It's you." He freezes again. "Y/N..." "We both know it, isn't that right?" You try to appear calm. You can't have him think you're just "throwing a tantrum". "It's time to put an end to our five years together, Caleb. Let's say goodbye gracefully. Let bygones be bygones."

Caleb stares at you for a while, then stands up. "Y/N, you're overthinking it. You'll see later that MC's return won't change anything. It's late, get some rest." "Caleb Xia! I know you feel guilty towards me, but not anymore. I really don't need a marriage based on guilt. Let me go, and let yourself go too, okay?" Before you even finish your sentence, Caleb takes off his coat and heads into the bathroom. 

You look at his coat lying on the small sofa. In the past, you would've hung it up for him, then found his pajamas and put them by the bathroom door. But this time, you don't move. For the past five years, you had always thought that your legs were weak and that you couldn't contribute anything to your family. In fact, Caleb managed everything perfectly, making you feel like a mere decoration, unable to help him in any way. Yet, you still tried your best to take care of him when you could.

Honestly? You might have overlooked the core: perhaps what Caleb needed wasn't your insignificant care, but a presentable Mrs. Xia, someone who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him in front of the world. So you truly don't understand what he's clinging onto, why he refuses to divorce you after all this…

Caleb comes out of the bathroom and goes straight to sleep, seemingly refusing to speak further. You don't bring it up again. Forget it, every conversation is exhausting for you anyways. You're better off using that time to think about your future, strive towards what you have always wanted, and when you could leave. Whether or not the divorce is finalized by then won't matter. You glance at Caleb beside you; he's already fast asleep.

In the dim light, you can only see a blurry profile of his face. The distance between the two of you seems endless. Caleb, I've decided not to blame you anymore. I hope you have a happy life after I'm gone.

T - 18 days You wake up feeling refreshed. As you finish getting ready and make your way down the stairs, you see the look of shock in the housekeeper's eyes.

You're wearing makeup today, and in your favorite dress. For five years, you barely dressed up. Your leg, covered in scars, not only restricted your movement, but also your self worth and yearning for beauty. You didn't think you were worth dressing up. “Very beautiful, Madam,” Mrs. Chen's admiring gaze doesn't lie. “Where are you going?” “The theatre.” You shift your weight, a little nervous despite the excitement coursing through your veins. You even wore stockings so that the scars on your leg wouldn't be as visible. After settling your feelings, you decide to buy a ticket to see a ballet performance. The only thing you wanted to see at the moment, the only thing you knew would comfort you was dance.

You take a deep breath as you sink into the plush velvet seat in the dress circle. From your elevated view, you can almost feel the warmth of the stage lights and the buzz of adrenaline behind the colossal curtains, your heartbeat quickening as it gets closer to curtain call. "Y/N?" You nearly jump as you hear your name, looking wildly around to meet a pair of sea-blue eyes.  "R-rafayel?" You squint as the name comes off your tongue slightly unfamiliarly. It's been nearly 10 years since you saw this old classmate of yours, but the tuft of dark purple hair gives him away. The two of you were never in same homeroom back in high school, but his name was very famous among the art students. 

"It's been such a long time, how have you been?" He smiles and offers you a hand.  Your brain short circuits for a moment, not quite sure how to answer.  "My apologies," he quickly follows up his words. "I remember you were a performing arts student, and followed your career briefly after graduation. I know you stopped dancing and got married, married to the man that you saved."  You're even more stunned now. But before you have a chance to formulate a reply, the lights cut out, signifying the opening of the show. 

Tonight's performance is by the Linkin City ballet, performing a classical piece that you've rehearsed countless times in the past. As the orchestra strikes the first chord, the dancer deep within you is awakened. Even though you're sitting in the audience with a real possibility you'll never be on stage again, your toes subconsciously tap lightly on the ground to the beat of the music—it's muscle memory etched into your body…

At the end of the performance, you can't help the tears spilling from your eyes. Sitting in the audience, listening to the thunderous applause, watching audience members go up one after another to present flowers to the dancers... Not because of sadness, not because of pain, and certainly not because of despair. But because of the dance itself, and the resonance you felt in your heart. This was once your passion and your deepest love. But you had forgotten it for five years.  You log onto your empty social media account for the first time in years, and simply post: Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest love. 

After the curtains fall for the final time, you turn to Rafayel, still gently clapping beside you. "I've been unhappy since I quit dancing," you admit, gaze flickering at your bad leg. "But I've had enough of moping around and feeling sorry for myself." You wipe away any remaining moisture off your face. "Sorry, this just reminded me of how happy dancing made me feel. I'll be going abroad soon to get a masters." You swear Rafayel's eyes light up slightly in the dim concert hall as he gives you a smile. "Y/N, Little Swallow, I believe you will soar high, even if your wings were once broken." Back in high school, your nickname was Little Swallow, because you were best known for your somersaults and leaps; high and graceful. Hearing the name again after so many years has your heart racing again, as if you are back in your youth, sweating profusely in the practice room.

A bundle is placed into your hands. You look down to see a bouquet of flowers, something Rafayel originally brought for one the dancers, probably. Rafayel simply pats your head. "It's not shameful to have a leg injury, it's not shameful to have scars on your legs. What's shameful are those who laugh at you; they are the truly despicable ones! Kind people will only cheer you on." He turns away, but not before calling out, "Let's keep in touch! I'll be in the same city as your program for my next artist retreat. Let me know if I can help with anything." He emphasizes again, "Anything!"

You stand there, watching him disappear into the distance. This is the first time someone has told you: your disability isn't shameful; what's shameful are those who mock you. Words you've wanted to hear for nearly 2000 days, but never had spoken to you.  Tonight, it brings you a fresh wave of tears. 

T - 17 days You didn't think Caleb would be back after everything going on these days, but the sound of the door opening wakes you up from sleep. 

Caleb stinks of alcohol when he enters the room. He's been drinking again. How much did he have to drink? He throws a chair against the door and collapses directly onto the bed. You don't have anything to say to him anymore, whether it's to scold him to drink less or coax him to take a shower. You get up, intending to sleep in the guest room. Just as you reach the door, Caleb's voice sounds behind you. "Where are you going?"

You don't answer.

The bed creaks behind you. Caleb gets slams the door in front of you closed and grabs your wrist. "Where are you going if you're not sleeping here?" "I'm going to the guest room, let go of me."  You can't really argue with a drunkard. The more you struggle, the tighter he grips your hands. "Stop fooling around, Y/N. What's the point? Since you've apologized, I'll make it up to you" his voice slurs.

You're dumbfounded??? What the hell is he referring to? "When did I apologize?" You haven't even seen him, let alone apologize to him? Caleb chuckles softly, mumbling, "Tonight belongs to my passion and my dearest? I'm back."

You scoff, wait, this guy actually thought you posted that for him? 

“Y/N” He suddenly hugs you. “I know, I know you love me. You'd give everything for me, so no matter what happens, I will never betray you…” You are stunned for a moment. He's right. You've loved him very, very much. He had said these words at your wedding. At that time, you thought it wasn't a confession, but a promise. He had given you a promise for a lifetime. A lifetime is so long. Long enough that you thought one day he would fall in love with you properly. Even if he never loved you, it didn't matter; you thought your love for him would be enough…

“Caleb Xia.” You have something you want to ask him. “Hmm?” His warm breath brushes against your ear, spreading out, carrying the scent of alcohol. "But your Pipsqueak is back! What will happen to Pips if you're with me?" "Pipsqueak? Pipsqueak..." He murmured the name, suddenly choking back tears. "Pipsqueak, I won't forget. I promised you, I won't forget..."

You feel as if you just got dunked in ice water. Is he so drunk that he's mistaking you for MC? "What promise? What did you promise Pipsqueak?" you ask numbly. "Everything... Everything, Pips..." His arms tighten around you.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you up and pushes you down on the bed, his breath, heavy with the smell of alcohol, glosses over your face, nose, and chin... He tries to find your lips, but you avoid them. The smell of alcohol makes you nauseous. When his hands begin to tear at your pajamas, you immediately turn away. "Pips, be good, okay? Stop making a fuss..."

Still calling you Pipsqueak...

You struggle fiercely, finally freeing a hand and slapping him hard across the face. A crisp sound rings out in the bedroom "Caleb! Look carefully at who I am! I'm not your Pipsqueak!" you shout in the darkness, your voice hoarse. His body stiffens briefly. Taking advantage of the moment, you forcefully wriggle out of his grasp. He lies on the bed, still drunk, murmuring, "Pips, I'm sorry, I have to go home. I promised her I'd take care of her for the rest of my life... I owe her..." You cover your ears. Those words have haunted you like a curse for five years; now, whenever they echo in your mind, your head buzzes as if filled with static.

You scream at the figure beside you, "I don't want you to owe me anything! Caleb Xia! Do you hear me!? I don't want you to owe me anything! I just want you to set me free!"

Caleb's phone vibrates at that moment. You turn your head to see the name of the person calling: "Baby Apple." Ha, Baby Apple… In Caleb's phone, your contact is "Y/N" When you were newlyweds, you had fantasized about the day Caleb would call you "sweetie," "darling," or any other nickname that was exclusively yours, or even just "Wife."  But no, whether in everyday conversations or in his contacts, it was always just "Y/N".  To reassure yourself, you convinced yourself that this was just his personality—not clingy, straightforward, and with a strong personality. You were wrong. The words "Baby Apple" on the screen are particularly glaring. You're torn between picking up or letting it ring, but you click on the green receiver anyway.

A soft, delicate voice makes your hand tremble. "Gege, are you home yet? Are you alright?" MC sounds drunk too, her voice slurred and incoherent. Ignoring the silence on your end, she continues. "I know it's hard for you... I also... know that Y/N has sacrificed a lot for you... You don't need to feel guilty towards me... I... we're fine like this now... I don't care whether I'm your wife or not... I just... just glad that you remember me and treat me the same as before... let's stay like this Caleb... She can live in your house, and I can live in your heart, I'm content..."

The phone finally slips and fell to the ground. She lives in your house, I live in your heart. You stagger out of the room and go to the guest room. You collapse on the bed, trying to squeeze all the sounds out of your head. You never want to think about this again.

T - 16 days When you wake up, it's Caleb's voice that you hear. He's talking to Mrs. Chen. "Where did these flowers come from?" "Madam brought them back last night." "Madam went out last night?" "Yes." "Alone? Where did she go?" Caleb's voice rises noticeably. "She said she went to see a performance." "A performance? Who sent the flowers?" He seemed unconvinced. "I don't know." "What performance? Where did she see it? What time was it?" Mrs. Chen hesitates. "Sir, I really don't know."

The guest room door is pushed open. You immediately pretend to be asleep. "Y/N, I know you're awake; your hand just moved." You open your eyes, internally sighing.

"Who did you go to see the performance with yesterday?" Why is he so fixated on this question?

You don't answer him, simply pulling the covers over your head and turn your back to face him. “Y/N,” He sits down, “Be good, okay?” He reaches out to dig you out from under the comforter. You remember him pinning you down on the bed last night, calling MC's name and telling her to be good. You feel utterly disgusted and forcefully slap his hand away.

He gives up, then suddenly changes the subject, "Y/N, what was the "passions and loves" you mentioned last night?" "It wasn't you!" you huff. His face stiffens for a moment, but it quickly turns into a knowing look. "Alright, stop being stubborn. I know you're still sulking and jealous. Didn't I come back as soon as I saw you post that yesterday?"

He seriously still thinks you're just throwing a tantrum when you said "not you"? You poke your head out from under the covers. "I told you..." Seeing you finally come out, his expression softens as he takes the opportunity to stroke your hair. "That's good. I'll be back tonight, but you don't have to wait for me. Just go to sleep if you're tired." Without waiting for you to say anything more, he turns and leaves. You don't care whether or not he comes home. Actually, this scene is exactly the same as before. Before MC appeared, he was always like this, speaking to you gently, telling you to go to sleep early, and stroking your hair. You've never argued, not even once.

But so what? What does a marriage without arguments even mean?

If you were to describe Caleb Xia with a single word, it would be "good." However, you know the truth painfully clearly: all the good things Caleb does don't stem from his love for you, but rather an act of atonement.

The words "never to dance again" were a devastating blow to both you and him back then. You still remember Caleb's reaction upon hearing those words; after the initial shock, he seemed utterly ripped from his soul.

From that moment on, the vibrant Caleb died. You were both simultaneously bound by the shackles of "forever"— you forever lost the stage, and he forever atoned for his sins. "I owe her" these three words became the unbearable weight of his life. From that moment forward, there was no more Caleb Xia; what lived was only your husband—a walking robot, devoid of warmth and emotion. A stagnant pool, mechanically fulfilling the duties of a husband, a partner.

But now he's alive again… MC returned, bringing light back into his life. He's started smiling again, his eyes sparkling with light and fire. You sigh heavily. Even after all this, why wouldn't he let you go, and let himself go too?

T - 15 days You step out of the taxi, heart pounding as you approach tall glass doors. After watching the ballet piece, you are once again filled with determination and decided to sign up for a beginners dance class. You've been going to your physical therapy sessions dutifully, hoping one day, with enough hard work and practice, you'll be able to stand on stage again. You smile at the wide range of participants already there. They greet you warmly, introducing themselves one by one before the instructor walks in.  As the class begins, you practice some very simple basics - posture, form, and stances. However, due to your injury, you quickly run out of stamina and spend a good portion of the class on the floor to rest inbetween. You're wiping the sweat off your brow with a towel and bidding goodbye to some new friends as a familiar voice calls from outside the studio door.

"Y/N!" It's Rafayel?!  "What are you doing here?" you ask, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment as you're stuck wondering how much of your clumsy work he had just seen. "The performing arts center commissioned a piece from me. It's going to be hanging on the top floor, so I came today to take a look at the atmosphere around here," he supplies, giving you a bright smile.  "Nice," you feebly offer. Rafayel breaks the silence with a soft sigh, "Y/N, I can see the start of a rebirth." You know what he's referring to, you starting to pick up dancing again. But can you really call what you're doing right now dancing? You could barely stand up straight. "Don't be like that! You haven't practiced for five years, and you did really well today! I have a photo if you don't believe me." Rafayel takes out his phone, smoothly passing it to you to enter your number. It turns out he had recorded the last part of your dance lesson today. "Ah, my phone died" you say, rummaging through your dance bag.  Rafayel shrugs and presses "send" anyways. "Here, let's go grab something to eat and you can watch yourself on mine.  

The two of you head to a cafe, sitting outside on the patio as you make conversation over coffee and sandwiches. Rafayel shows you the video as you furrow your brows at your posture. You sigh dejectedly. Who would've imagined that the girl once known as "Little Swallow" would struggle like that? While Rafayel's words of encouragement still doesn't allow you to forgive yourself for falling so far behind, you agree with his sentiment: you were going to grow new wings and explore higher skies. 

It was at this moment that Caleb drives by, catching a glimpse of your smile brighter than the sunset, sitting next to Rafayel, your heads slightly leaned in together as you watch something on his phone. 

T - 14 days You feel a strange sense of oppression slowly growing behind you. You look up to see Caleb standing behind you, face partially covered by shadow.  His complexion is stormy; he looks exhausted, and his hair is somewhat disheveled. As he approaches you, the setting sun behind him seems to ignite, mirroring the flames in his eyes.  

“I called you all day, and your phone was off?” He is clearly suppressing his anger.

You don't know where this anger came from. Isn't he very busy? He usually never calls you anyways; why would he be offended that your phone died? Afterall, you weren't even angry when he went to take care of MC, what right did he have to dictate how you spend your time? 

“Oh, I didn't expect you to call,” you say calmly, stirring your drink. "Didn't expect me to call?" Caleb glances at Rafayel sitting beside you, gritting his teeth. "I'm your husband. If I don't call you, who will?" You shake your head, pulling yourself up using the armrest. "Who knows? I could have an ex-boyfriend," you say sarcastically.  His expression changes, and he frown deeply. "Y/N."

Rafayel simply smiles, and turns to address Caleb. "Colonel Xia," he greets him. "Have you ever watched your wife dance? 

Caleb freezes. Despite being the High Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, trained in all kinds of interrogation and logic, he could not decipher the meaning behind those words.  Rafayel chuckles and bids the two of you goodbye, Caleb's gaze burning into the back of his silhouette.

"Y/N, I've underestimated you this whole time," Caleb says as you get into his car. "You're quite something." His voice carries a threat and suppressed anger. Your mind flashes to the stench of perfume on his shirt, and scoff, "Not as good as you." "Since when did you get in contact with him again? What does he do? I don't want to waste time finding that out myself." His hands rest on the steering wheel, his fingers long and slender. On his left ring finger is a new ring.

His wedding band has been off since the night of your wedding ceremony. What's he wearing now? You smile faintly and hold out your hand. On your ring finger is a jade ring, small enough for everyday wear. You were the one to pick out your wedding rings. You wanted a small, non-flashy stone because you wanted to wear it everyday, forever. It was a custom pair; his was also jade.  The one on his hand is pure silver band.  Caleb watches your movements and subconsciously pulls his left hand back.

You place your hand on the dashboard. "Colonel, can you please explain when your ring changed color?"

T - 13 days Caleb freezes for a fraction of a second, before muttering, "it's a formality, it's not that serious." You nearly laugh out loud. Of course, what can be more serious than marriage? Perhaps your observation ignited the tiniest shred of shame in him, for his tone softens considerably, his previous accusatory attitude gone. "I'm asking you this for your own good, Y/N. There won't be another man in this world who treats you like I do. Of course, I'm not perfect; I have my flaws. But I'm sincere, trusting, and unguarded with you. Your name is on all of my assets. It's hard to say what other people's intentions are."

You are immediately reminded of MC's words: She's in your house, but I'm in your heart.

You put on your earbuds, hoping to drown out whatever other demeaning things he has to say. Seeing this, Caleb hesitates, then drives off. He drops you off at home, saying, "I have more work to do at the office, don't wait up for me," before leaving again. You stare at the door blankly. You forgot how you used to care so much about those things.

Slowly, you take the wedding ring off your finger. Since it obviously doesn't have any true sentimental value anymore, you might as well sell it for cash. Actually, if you were going to sell it, might as well sell it as a pair! You look high and low around the house, but can't find the other one.

Suddenly, you remember that Caleb keeps a safe at home, something you've never thought to open.  An idea strikes you.

You don't know the safe's combination. You try Caleb's birthday, but it didn't budge. You don't even bother to try yours. You think a little harder, hesitantly putting in the security code for the front door and garage. It opens! Inside are a stack of legal documents, property papers, and various other things that must be very important. You easily find the jewelry box with the same brand as your wedding ring, but there is another one in the very back, placed on top of a notebook.

You open the latter and see the another silver ring matching the one on Caleb's finger, along with a necklace with a small apple charm.  Your hand rests on top of the notebook, mind teetering between looking and not looking. Ultimately, your self control wins, but as you move to put it back, a photograph slides out, falling to the floor. It's a photo of Caleb and MC from their high school days. 

Honestly, it doesn't mean much. You knew for a long time that Caleb had feelings for someone else before. But since you married him, at least when you married him, you told yourself you didn't care about his past. You sigh, picking up the photo, and put it back in the notebook. Fuck it, trying to protect your already shattered heart is pointless now. You open it to a random page, planning to just stuff the photo back in, but you freeze as your eyes land on the writing: 100 Little things about Pipsqueak.  The first thing listed is: Pips' birthday is May 1st.

Your hand slips, and the notebook falls to the ground. The code to your house is 20501 The combination to this safe is 0501. The air in the room seems to thin. You press your palm to your chest, gasping for breath. The second line reads: "I finally bought myself a house. It's in the style that MC likes. The password is her birthday."

So, for the last five years, you've been living in the house meant for Caleb and MC...

T - 12 days You bring the pair of rings to the antique watch shop, having scheduled a time with the owner. The owner is delighted, having previously bought the 10 necklaces you chose to part ways with as well. He ushers you to sit down in the private room behind the counter and pours you a cup of tea. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, hearing the door open as more customers enter the store.

The voices are familiar. Shit. Looking behind you, you see MC's appear, with Caleb in tow.  You really manage to run into her everywhere, huh?

It's midday, right when Caleb usually has meetings. He sure has lots of free time now.  You go do your business, ducking behind the curtains as you return to avoid being noticed.

"Caleb, look! This store has so many of these necklaces! They're limited edition zodiac ones!" MC points to something in the display case. If you aren't mistaken, it's definitely one of the pieces you sold. The old man takes it out. "You have a good eye, young lady. The necklaces were acquired recently. They only make a limited amount every year. These ones are no longer being sold." Caleb looks closely and frowns. "Are they really that rare?" "Yes, this limited collection began exactly 12 years ago, a zodiac edition with this year being the last edition. It's much more expensive than the regular model. I think I've got the only ten that exists in Linkon," the owner explains with a smile. "No way..." MC exclaims, "can you prove their authenticity if they're really that valuable?" "Of course! I've got the certificates as well as the invoices for each." "These ten necklaces, did you receive them all at once?" Caleb, who has been mostly silent, suddenly asks. "Yes," the owner nods with a smile, "from the same customer." Caleb's eyes sharpen. "Show me the invoice." The owner takes out the invoices and hands them to Caleb.  He stares at them harshly, suddenly letting out a cold laugh. "Sir...?" The old man is taken aback, unsure what the issue was. "It has nothing to do with you, just give me all of them." Caleb says gruffly. Even MC sensed something was wrong and softly asks, "Gege?"

The owner notices you waiting for him. "You're back? Everything alright?" Caleb and MC looks your way as well, seeing your figure in the back.

You're not sure if it's just your imagination, but Caleb's eyes almost seem to be filled with anger. "Can you sit down for a moment? I'll show them the necklaces first, and then I'll look at your ring."

"What ring?" Caleb's voice is dangerously low, was full of suspicion upon hearing this. His gaze falls to the pair of jade rings behind the display case. "These two?" He taps the glass of the display case with his finger, his tone getting even more oppressive.

The owner clearly has no idea what is going on, why his customer was asking this, or how to answer. These were items provided by someone else; why is he asking about them? You don't intend to put him in an awkward situation, so you answer Caleb directly. "Yes, these two."

Caleb's gaze is burning. "Mrs. Xia, you're really something." It wasn't a compliment, but you reply calmly, "Thank you, you flatter me." "Get over here!" he suddenly roars. You sit down, picking up your cup of tea. He walks over to you instead, looming in front of you.

Perhaps out of consideration for the outside world, he tries to suppress his anger, his voice full of sarcasm, "I never thought I'd experience firsthand what it means by 'it's hard to guard against a thief from within the family'. One day, I wouldn't even know if my entire house was robbed." You ignore him. "Are you short of money? Is the money I give you not enough?" he hisses. "No, not at all," you say, "I've been decluttering lately, getting rid of anything useless." "Useless?" He's furious, pointing to the rings in the display case, "You're saying wedding rings are useless?" You look at him calmly, "Otherwise? If you say they're useful, have you ever worn it for a even day since the weeding ceremony?"

Caleb is speechless, indignant. "One day, you'll sell me off without me even knowing!" " You laugh and turn to at MC. "Do you want this? I'm selling one Caleb Xia, secondhand! I'll even give you a discount, I promise the price is favorable." MC is stunned. Caleb however, clearly doesn't find this funny. He turns to MC and says, "Pipsqueak, you head back first." She's unwilling, protesting, "but Gege!" "We'll talk about the necklace later, you go back first!" His expression is serious. MC knew when not to push his buttons. He's in a bad mood, and she didn't dare to provoke him. Lips trembling, she says gently, "Alright Gege, I'll go back first. But don't be too angry. Y/N must have her reasons, please don't scold her." 

You roll your eyes.

As soon as MC leaves, Caleb immediately presses you. "What exactly are you doing? Tell me!" "I told you," you say calmly, "I'm decluttering things I don't want anymore." You pause, then continue. "Including you, Colonel Xia." "Are you serious?" His face is very unpleasant. "Yes." You were never anything but serious about this.  "Y/N! I think you've been provoking me too much lately!" His eyes flash with anger.

You personally think that his temper has been a bit too volatile lately; the usually stable and gentle Colonel was gone, and MC was largely to blame. He calls the owner over, harshly putting his black card on the table. "I'll take all of them."

The owner wraps everything up, afraid of knowing too much about the uncomfortable relationship between the three of you. Get in the car!" he demands, dragging you out by your wrist. “It looks like I misjudged you,” he says once he starts driving. “I always thought you were a sensible and understanding, person, but now it seems you're getting too full of yourself. Look at Pips…” “I don’t want to see her, ok? You can go spend your time with her if she's that great.”

You put on your headphones for real this time. You're in no mood to hear about how wonderful MC is to him. He drops you off at the entrance of the neighborhood and tells you to get out. “I have a meeting later-” You get out and slam the door shut. You don't give a fuck about what he's doing tonight.

T - 11 days At 11pm, you hear Caleb enter the front door. You shut down your laptop and turn to scroll lazily on your phone, overhearing him greet Mrs. Chen.  "I told you to cook it according to my wife's taste, why did you make it spicy?" "Madam said...spicy." Aunt Chen's voice was tinged with panic. "And she didn't eat a single bite?" "Yes..." "Get me a bowl of rice."

A few minutes later, Caleb enters the bedroom. His tie is loose, the top button of his shirt  undone, the sleeves rolled up to his wrists. "Aren't you going to come out and have dinner with me?" he asks, the anger from earlier seemingly gone. For the last few years, he's always come home pretty late, rarely for dinner, but made sure to eat when he came home. You cherished those moments, bustling around him, serving up his food and keeping him company for the little time before going to sleep.  What good was your attentiveness in the end? Who knows, perhaps it only served to annoy him?

“What did you eat tonight? From now on, you don’t need to cook according to my taste. Tell Mrs. Chen to make what you like,” he says. You roll your eyes. He really thinks you're still trying to gain his favor.  He pulls up a chair and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Y/N,” What is it now?

He takes a deep breath. “MC really liked that ring. Since you sold it anyway, I gave it to her. I just transferred you some money. Take it and buy something you like.  Of course. So that’s what it's about. No wonder he's suddenly being so friendly with you. You have your back to him and simply say, "Oh," then add, "Okay."

T - 11 days until leaving Caleb Xia: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?

"So well-behaved today?" His voice softens. "I wanted to buy something for you, but you obviously don't like what I buy." "Hmm." "What's wrong? You're asleep already?" He frowns. "Are you feeling unwell? Let me see." He leans over, wanting to see your face. "Don't tell me you're secretly crying?" In his dreams! You give no reaction.

After tucking you in tighter, he looks at your quiet form, hesitates, and finally says, “Y/N, I'm going on a mission tomorrow.” A mission! You immediately open our eyes. This means you can go in person to meet with a lawyer and get your interviews and forms stamped without him knowing!

You sit up, eyes shining brightly. “How many days are you going?” “Three or four days, possibly up to a week.” He frowns, thinking your reaction is a bit over the top. What does this mean? You were letting him go? “No, it’s okay. Who are you going with?” you follow up haphazardly, heart pounding with joy. His expression grows increasingly hesitant. "Gideon." He pauses, then adds, "Maybe MC too." "Oh." You lie back down. "Sounds good, tell me before you come back, I'll have Mrs. Chen prepare good food." He looks at you incredulously. "You're not angry?" You shake your head. "Go to sleep early, you have a business trip tomorrow, you need to get some rest." "Y/N, trust me, a lot more of us will be going together..." He moves closer to you, but you push him away. "Go take a shower, I've already showered, don't get too close to me." He frowns. "What do you mean? You think I'm dirty?" Well, he does reek of MC's perfume. 

The next day, you're still groggy when Caleb gets up.  You had expected him to pack his things and go without leaving you with any words, but unexpectedly, he insists on waking you.  "Ugh, sleepy!" You smack his hand away.

"Mrs. Xia," he drawls, standing by the bed. "Your performance is falling. You don't feed me, give me mooncakes anymore, or ask me about my day, and now I'm leaving for a mission and you won't even help me pack my luggage?" It's true. If this was before, you'd be fretting all over him, his luggage already prepared the night before.  You roll your eyes. Fine, you'll pack for him then!

You go into the walk-in closet, and start placing folded clothes and personal belongings neatly into his suitcase. Before you close the zipper, you head over to the bedside drawer, take out a box of condoms, and was about to throw it into the suitcase as well. Your arm is grabbed roughly. "Where did this come from?" Caleb demands, eyes darkening. 

To be honest, you originally prepared it for your honeymoon though you never ended up using it. It's probably expired by now, but you thought it would be funny. You smile. “I prepared this especially for you. Tell me, aren't I a wonderful Mrs. Xia?” “You…” Caleb picks up the box and throws it forcefully into the trash can, “That'll be unnecessary! Even if I had a child, I could afford to raise it. Besides, I don’t plan on having one anytime soon!” He zips up the suitcase, locks it, and leaves with a huff.

T - 10 days You head to physical therapy again. While sitting in the waiting area for your appointment, your phone suddenly goes off. Your surprise turns into annoyance as you see the caller ID: Husband. Fortunately, there's not many people beside you. After picking up the call, you quietly say, "Hello".

"Why are you speaking so softly? What are you doing?" Caleb asks on the other end. "I'm at the doctor's, it's not good to talk loudly." You quickly take out earbuds, further lowering your voice to a whisper. "Why am I getting so many calls these days?" It's really annoying. He seems even more offended on the other end, "Your own husband can't call you? Are you annoyed at me?" More than annoyed! You roll your eyes "No, not really, it's just quite unsettling. What's wrong?" "Mrs. Xia!" He scoffs on the other end, "Can't I call you if there's nothing wrong?" " You're speechless for a second. This person is getting more and more irrational. "What instructions does the Colonel have for me?" you roll your eyes, not believing him. "You're kidding me!" His tone softens a bit, "I'm transferring flights, it's not boarding time yet, just wanted to see if you're up." So he really is bored! "Don't you have anything to say to me?" You pop a grape into your mouth, mumbling an "oh".  "Y/N!" ??? Why does it sound like he's about to get angry? "What are you eating that's more important than your husband's safety?" You finally swallow the grape, "You... you've been attacked?" A long sigh comes from the phone, "Never mind, you eat, just hearing your voice is enough, I'm about to board too." The call ended abruptly.

You look at your phone, listening to the dial tone, feeling utterly bewildered.

On the other end, MC glances at him several times. "Gege," she calls. "Hmm? Let's go get ready to board." "You seem to miss Y/N a lot. You've made so many calls since we left" she says tentatively.

Caleb doesn't notice her gaze, only frowning slightly. "Hmm, I don't know why, but I feel uneasy about this trip. I have a feeling something's going to happen." "You...are you worried something might happen to Y/N? Then ask Liam or someone to go check on her."  Caleb sighs. "Y/N doesn't know Liam that well. I don't think she'd appreciate it anyway." "Then what should we do?" MC asks worriedly. "Should I not have asked to come on this mission with you?" Caleb glances down at her and smiles. "It's okay. I called her already. Hearing her voice is enough to put my mind at ease." "Caleb, you actually...love Y/N very much, don't you?" MC asks with a smile, but a darker current ripples under her eyes. He pauses. "Y/N can't live without me. She's my responsibility, so Pips..." "I understand, Gege." MC smiles, interrupting his words gently and sweetly. "Don't forget, I'm the person who understands you best in the world."

T - 9 days It's a peaceful few days without having to see Caleb. Instead of the anxiety that once filled you every time he went away, you feel calm. As you begin packing your things, you get an invitation from one of your old dance buddies. Mina is visiting home on her trip back from abroad, now a professional dancer on Broadway. You eagerly agree to meet with her, catching up over lunch as the two of you reminisce over the good old times. She's initially a little hesitant to show you photos of herself on stage, worried it'd make you sad, but you quickly reassure her that was not to worry about. Later, as she helps you down the steps of the restaurant, you ask what her plans are for the rest of the day.

"Oh! Umm, I'm actually getting dinner with a larger group of our old classmates..." She looks at you with a flicker of hope in her eyes. "If you don't mind... would you like to join us?" "Of course!" You say with a smile. "I haven't seen everyone in so long. Do any of them know what happened with me?" You're referring to your leg. "That's where I need to apologize," Mina looks guilty. "I told them you injured your leg without asking your permission first... but nothing else!"

You understand. Your classmates, whom you haven't seen in a long time, would definitely ask how you were doing. Your leg injury was a fact, and you don't plan on hiding it forever.  "It's okay, really!" You're done feeling sorry for yourself. Your goal is to step out of the world Caleb had created for you, and in doing that, you will inevitably face all sorts of stares and judgement.  "Then I'll reply to them!" Mina says happily.

"Let's go! They said they're heading out soon". The meet-up location is nearby. By the time you and Mina get there, some of your classmates have already arrived. The enthusiasm they show you exceed your expectations. They mention your leg, even gathering around to examine it, but without malice, as if your leg wasn't anything serious, like a minor inconvenience like a cold. You liked this atmosphere; it's much better than deliberately trying to protect your pride. Everyone is treating you as a normal person, just with a leg injury.

It's a pleasant evening. The group sings old songs from high school on the karaoke. After three or four hours, you all get tired and sit down to chat, reminiscing about the past and having some drinks to liven things up. Even you, encouraged by everyone, drink quite a bit. Among your classmates, some have had good times, others have experienced setbacks. Talking about the past, people begin talking about regrets. Someone says, "If I had known this would happen, I would have studied harder in high school and not skipped so many classes." Another adds, "If I had known he also liked me, I definitely wouldn't have been a coward on graduation day; I would have confessed to him. I've missed my chance all these years." A good amount of sentimentality is triggered by the alcohol, and for a moment, everyone's eyes are filled with tears. From your teenage years to approaching thirty, everyone has had some regrets.

"Y/N, what about you? If you could do it all over again, what would you do?" someone asks you. You hold a glass of wine in your hands, ruminating in thought. The image of osmanthus blossoms from that Mid-Autumn Festival many years ago flashes before your eyes, twinkling like stars. You smile faintly, "If I could do it all over again..."

Caleb pushes open the door to the private room.

"If I could do it all over again, I want to eat all the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival in our second year of high school by myself! I'm not sharing it with anyone!"

Was it the alcohol? The bitterness in your heart is amplified. You take a deep breath and look up, only to see someone standing in the doorway under the flickering lights. Caleb. Your classmates don't quite understand what you're referring to, and assume it is some old pastry shop that has closed, the mooncakes never to be tasted again. You can't see it, but Caleb's fists clench at his side, knuckles turning white.

"Hey, Caleb!" Finally, someone notices him come in. You're a little dizzy, seeing two Calebs approach you. "Caleb Xia! You're so late, shouldn't you take three shots as punishment?" A classmate named Xavier places three glasses down in front of him. “Sorry, I'll have to decline.” Caleb puts his arm around you, looking down at your tipsy form. “I’m here to pick up my wife. I have to drive later.” “Call a cab!” Caleb gives a polite smile. “That won’t do. If I drink too much, who will take care of her?”

You are a little drunk, but still conscious enough to hear him and what's going on. Under the influence of alcohol though, your actions are more unrestrained. Your first instinct is to push Caleb aside, muttering, “I don’t need you to take care of me. Go away.” “Y/N, you’re really drunk. Let’s go home.” Caleb tries to pick you up. “No! I don’t want to go home…” You struggle in his arms. “Do you hear that? Y/N isn’t going home!” Xavier pushes Caleb's shoulder, forcing him back down. 

Mina senses something is off. Xavier had quite a bit to drink today and was probably drunk by now. Worried about the boys starting trouble, she quickly tries to break it up. "Alright, it's getting late. We've had our fun, let's start packing up." "No way!" Xavier doesn't back down, gripping Caleb's shoulder tightly. "You're not leaving until you finish this drink!" Caleb, as the Farspace Fleet Colonel, is incredibly perceptive. His expression darkens. "Xavier Shen, I'll let it slide since you've had too much to drink, but you'd better watch yourself!" "Watch myself?" The rage in Xavier's eyes are now impossible to conceal. "Caleb Xia, I'm telling you, watch yourself!"

Xavier moves to grab his collar, but not before having his wrists clamped forcefully by Caleb. "Xavier Shen! Did you come here to cause trouble?" "Yes!" He shouts, "I came here to cause trouble! Caleb, what the hell did you do to Y/N? What exactly did you do to her!?" He roars, his eyes bloodshot. Caleb's eyes sharpen, his hand still gripping his wrists, veins bulging on the back. "Listen here, Shen. My wife eats well, sleeps well, lives in a mansion, and I pamper her like a princess. Who are you to concern yourself with our marital affairs?"

"Is that so?" An incredulous laugh follows. Xavier didn't believe Caleb at all, both men rising from the sofa. "Then tell me, how did Y/N become like this? What happened to her leg? She's a dancer! When she dances on stage, she's as graceful as a swan. What did you do to her? Take good care of her? Why then did she become like this after getting married? Five years, and you've been covering it up, saying she doesn't want to come out and socialize! You're lying! Do you beat her at home!?"

"My wife and I are doing just fine! Why her foot is like this is her privacy, there's no need for me to explain it to you, Xavier! Don't forget your place in front of me, and don't you dare try to play any tricks on my wife!" Caleb yanks harshly, pushing the other man away so hard the buttons on his collar pop off.

Already quite drunk, Xavier loses his balance, staggers a couple of steps, and falls onto the coffee table, knocking over a bunch of bottles and plates. "Caleb, I've wanted to beat you up for ages!" He scrambles up and lunges at him. Fearing trouble, rest of your classmates rush forward to restrain him. "Caleb! Take Y/N and leave! He's drunk, and you haven't been drinking - calm down Xavier! Don't cause any more trouble!"

Caleb tugs at his collar, giving Xavier one last cold look, then puts his arm around your waist and lifts you up. "Let's go, my wife. Don't come to parties like this again." You're practically dragged and carried away by Caleb.

"Why didn't you let Y/N attend the class reunion!" Xavier shouts from behind you. "Caleb Xia, what skeletons do you have hiding in your closet?!"   Caleb stops. "I don't feel guilty about anything. You better not be the one with things to hide!" "Me? Guilty?" he laughs. "Alright then, Caleb, I have a question for you! Were you the one who threw away all the love letters I put in Y/N's locker back then?"

Love letters? How did you not know that Xavier Shen had written you love letters? You glance back, only to be swept up in Caleb's arms and quickly carried out of the private room.

Everyone else is left exchanging bewildered glances: Xavier liked you back in high school? Xavier struggles against the boys, shouting, "Let me go! I'm going to beat Caleb Xia to death! That fucking hypocrite!" "Xavier, you're drunk, stop it." They don't let go, afraid he'd really chase after you. “Call him back here!" Xavier demands. “I’m going to call him here! I’m going to teach him a lesson!” “Xavier! Get your head screwed on straight!” “Don’t stop me! Do you know how much Y/N loved to dance? She was in the practice room before class, after school, and weekends too! Sometimes she’ll even do a somersault while walking! She’s such a passionate dancer, a perfectly healthy person, and now her leg is injured - there's no way she's not heartbroken about it! That bastard Caleb Xia keeps lying to us, saying Y/N doesn't like going out. He's done something to her, I bet my fucking life on it!”

Caleb's already brought you to his car, carefully placing you in the passenger seat.  The minute he gets into the driver's seat, he catches you trying to open to the door, and he immediately locks it.  "Open the door! I want out!" You feel your head spinning, the alcohol really settling in." "You're drunk, Y/N." He says, sighing. "I'm not drunk!" You insist. You clearly heard many voices back there, and you heard Caleb call you his "wife." Something is wrong! He's never called you "wife" before, only ever by name, or at most "Mrs. Xia" when he's angry at you, and you can sense that he uses the term sarcastically. Moreover, you can tell he's in an unhappy mood right now!

He rolls down the window, letting you get some fresh air.

"What did you mean by what you said in the private room?" Caleb's voice sounds particularly cold in the cool breeze. "What...what did I mean?" What was he talking about? You said a lot of stuff today. "You said you wouldn't give your mooncakes to anyone else, what did you mean?" He rests his hands on the steering wheel, looking ahead, his eyes sharp. "Um...not...not for Caleb Xia." Your head feels heavy, and you close your eyes tightly. "Why?"  You smile, sad laugh escaping your lips. "Because I don't want to pursue him anymore...I gave my mooncakes to the wrong person..." "Is that so? The wrong person?" Caleb leans closer, "Who are you going to give them to then?" "Give them to..." Your mind is a little confused. Who else would you give them to? "To Xavier?" He suddenly speaks as if interrogating you, his tone fierce.

The name reminds you that you had supposedly gotten multiple love letters. You frown, eyes getting hazy, looking at the face before you, murmuring, "Why did you throw away my love letters? They were from someone else." "I'm the class monitor!" Caleb says sternly. "The school doesn't encourage early relationships!" You furrow your brows... that reasoning...  You punch his shoulder hard. "What's it to you? You're just the class monitor, not even my homeroom teacher! The love letters he gave me are my privacy, what does it have to do with you! Why did you throw them away, you bully!"

Your eyes are blurry. Although your punches don't hurt much, each one lands with force, solidly striking his shoulders and chest. "Are you angry?" He grasps your hand. "You're angry because I threw away your love letters?" "Of course I'm angry! If someone wrote me a love letter..." You vaguely recall how you felt back in high school. The mess of hormones in early puberty, the insecurities you had, the self-consciousness about every little thing about you. Mina and the girls around you all received gifts and notes from boys, but you never did. You weren't very close with your parents, having grown up by your grandparents' side. But it seemed to you that no one, not even your parents, loved you, let alone any boys. You weren't sad about not receiving any confessions, but if you did, it at least would have been an important form of affirmation; at least you were good in someone's eyes. 

“What if you did? Would you date him?” Caleb presses on relentlessly. Your frown deepens. When did you ever say you wanted to date someone?

“Let me tell you, those boys were all immature squirts back then! Whether it's Xavier or whoever else you wanted to give your mooncakes to! You're easily moved by anyone who shows you kindness! You'd only ended up getting taken advantage of!” Your face contorts into a grimace. You're barely holding onto your consciousness and Caleb's stupid face seems to multiply into four in your vision. You shake your head, trying to shake the other three Calebs away. “No... Xavier isn’t that kind of person you’re describing.” The Xavier you recall is a sleepy boy, getting in trouble for napping in class, often found under the shade of trees with a stray cat in his lap. “Then what kind of person is he?” Caleb suddenly raises his voice. “And the other person you had in mind, who is he?” “He’s… genuine... and very kind. If he’s good to someone… he’ll always be good to them…” A flash of white hair enters your mind. You try to remember a face, thinking really hard, but only seeing the creases of someone's summer uniform. You didn't interact with him much in high school, but you knew he secretly kept a crow as a pet on his dorm window ledge—a pitiful little thing he picked up one day and never let go. "He's... a good person..." you mumble. ".... Q...qin..." 

You black out.

T - 8 days You wake up to a splitting headache, nauseous and parched. The midday sun is high in the sky. Stumbling down from the bed, you trip and fall with a loud 'thud'. You rub your eyes, trying to clear the fog still in your brain, but before you find your balance again, you're being lifted and put back into soft sheets. 

Caleb stands at the bedside, looking displeased, but to your surprise, doesn't scold you about your clumsiness as he usually does. You purse your lips, also not particularly eager to talk about what happened last night.  He brings you a try of light breakfast foods; some chicken soup congee, pancakes, and a few side dishes. "Eat. Mrs. Chen is off today. I cooked."

You stare at the food in front of you, head still in a daze. The colonel... cooked for you?  This is the second time you've ever eaten something Caleb has made for you. The first since you got married.  Slowly picking up your spoon, your mind flashes back to the last time you experienced this.

You were only in your first year of high school, your homeroom had organized a camping trip. Outside, all your classmates run around joyfully, like lambs in a field. Yet Caleb was already a quiet and reliable person, getting ready for lunch. He was always clean and tidy, presentable and strong. That day on the camping trip was the most disheveled you had ever seen him.  He knew how to cook, but that didn't mean he was able to do it easily outdoors.  He couldn't figure out how to start the fire. He struggled earnestly, face and hands stained with soot.

You were different. When you were young, your grandparents brought you back to the village often. You built fires, scaled trees, and caught insects with all the other children over there. Despite being in a different group, you felt bad watching him struggle like that, so you go over, emptied his stove, and started a fire for him. He stared at the blazing flames, momentarily stunned. Perhaps too self-conscious of his disheveled appearance, he didn't even thank you. But afterwards, his performance became much more consistent. Judging from the way he cooked, it was clear he was used to doing domestic chores at home.  His group thanked him by saving the chicken leg for him. But he didn't eat it. As he passed your group, he places the drumstick in your bowl. 

That was the moment your heart started pounding for him, despite being the first of only a handful of times you ever interacted with him.  That night, your dreams were filled with his image; his determined face, covered with soot, his slender fingers as he cut the vegetables, his meticulous and focused expression as he cooked… The next day in class, you watch his profile as you absent-mindedly filled a whole page with his name, “Caleb Xia”… Later, that piece of paper disappeared, but those words were etched firmly in your heart, impossible to erase.

The next time you ask him a question was after parent-teacher conferences. The teacher took note of students whose parents did not show up. You were one of them. Coincidentally, he was too. Classmates whisper about what happened. A few of the students failed to inform their parents about the meetings, afraid of punishment for their poor grades. But Caleb wasn't like that. He was at the top of the class.  "Caleb Xia! You got first place in the entire grade, why aren't your parents here? If I got your score, my parents, grandparents, and even my dog would come!" someone yells. Other students chimed in, "Yeah, Caleb, you got good grades, why aren't your parents here?" He replies simply. "Don't ask, they're dead."

Later, you witness something you probably shouldn't have seen.  Caleb stands in an inconspicuous corner by the school's back gate. A dark car pulls up in front of him, the window rolled down, and he throws a wad of cash at the driver, hitting him in the face. The person in the car points a finger at him, cursing, “You scoundrel! You think just because your parents offed themselves that you're safe with little old grandma?" You're stunned. Unaware of his family's situation.  Caleb is stubborn, refusing to reply before he turns and walks away. The driver calls after him shouting, "You'll join us one day, Caleb! Let's see how you survive!" The sunset was blinding, bathing him in a golden light. He laughs defiantly, "Don't worry! I'd rather be bought out by a rich old lady than go with you!"  What kind of talk was that! Coming from a high schooler! 

You don't know where you got the courage that day, but you walk up to him, eyes wide, voice panicked, "Caleb, whatever you do, don't sell yourself out like that!" You don't know if you were imagining things, but you saw something that looked like glistening tears in his eyes in the setting sun. They flash for a moment before he turns away, coldly smiling, "So, you're going to sponsor me?" You fall silent. That was Caleb's most irrational moment. Even now, more than a decade later, you never saw him as vulnerable again.

The next day, you take a math problem to him and ask how to solve it. He raises a single eyebrow, not saying a word. You thought he had refused, your head hanging low. Finally, he tore off a piece of scratch paper and began to explain while drawing on it. He talked for the entire break before finally asking, "Do you understand now?" You nod frantically. Then throw down five dollars and run back to your seat, completely unaware of Caleb's expression behind you.

You didn't have an allowance either, saving up those five dollars from running small errands here and there for other classmates and neighbors.

After school, Caleb blocked you on your way to the dorms. He stood under a sycamore tree, sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting dappled shadows over him.  You don't dare to lift your head, trying to walk past him.  He stands in front of you. "Why aren't you looking at me?" The heat was unbearable, making your face flush. You're too embarrassed to say anything.  He scoffs, "you were quite bold earlier when you wanted to buy me out." You lower your head even further. "I...I didn't mean..." A five-dollar note is thrust in front of you. "Isn't this it? You think you can keep me for five dollars? Before you can even clarify that you just wanted him to tutor you, he interrupts you, shoving the money back into your hands, swiftly leaving you behind with a single sentence: "I don't need your pity."

Your heart ached.

Later, he skipped three days of class. When you saw him outside school with a black armband pinned to his sleeve, when he returned to class and said, "Y/N, my grandmother passed away," your heart ached like that again; the pain crashing down like a tidal wave.

That Mid-Autumn Festival, everyone went home for a reunion dinner with their families and ate mooncakes, including you. You went to your grandparents' house. But he no longer had a grandmother to go back to. After dinner, on your way back to school, the osmanthus trees near the dormitory were in full bloom, their fragrance rich and intoxicating. By sheer coincidence, you see him standing there, alone. You hand him a mooncake, filled with fresh meat, made by your grandmother. That night, you sat together under the osmanthus tree, eating mooncakes. Neither of you said a word. After finishing the mooncake, he went to the classroom, and you went back to your dorm. The warm feeling from that night haunted you, driving you to accept his proposal 5 years later, despite not knowing each other well at all.

You once saw a comment online that said "Feeling sorry for a man will make you unhappy for life." You didn't know what that meant back then. Now, you understand.

T - 7 days Only a week left.

It's routine now, heading to your physical therapy appointment. With your departure so close, you try a more rigorous session. Carrying weight, light hops, landing on your bad foot.  Due to the strain, your entire  body aches from head to toe. You're sweating almost immediately. Within five minutes, you are completely drenched.

“If you can’t keep going, just say so. Don’t force yourself,” the therapist comments. Sweating heavily, you nod. “I know. I’m fine. I can manage…” Before you finish speaking, you collapse to the ground with a thud. “Are you alright?” they rush forward to help you up, but someone pushes past them. You are suddenly lifted into someone’s arms. When you look up, you meet Caleb’s anxious eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” You try to struggle, but your muscles give you. Held in his arms, you see a dark storm swirling in Caleb’s eyes.

“What exactly is she doing?” Caleb asks the therapist this time. “Sir, she’s in physical therapy. Rehab.” Caleb scoffs. “Rehabilitation? What kind of rehab is this? Looks like it's doing more harm than good.” “Caleb!” you grit out. “You stay out of this!”

He's already carrying you out.

“Caleb!” “Sir, Ms. Y/N's recovery—” You and the nurse speak at the same time, but Caleb abruptly cuts you both off as he walks away.

“She’s not doing it anymore.” “Caleb, you have no right to decide my affairs!” Anger burns in your chest. When you needed him most, he was never there. And now he suddenly appears just to interfere with your plans? You're already out in the hall, in full view of nurses, patients, and waiting family members. He carries you straight through the clinic.

“Caleb!” You hate your own helplessness right now, but very time you try to move, your muscles scream in pain. You can't simply jump out of his arms.

Zayne Li, a previous upperclassman and now doctor, happens to walk out of his consultation room and notices the commotion. He approaches the two of you with concern. “What’s wrong? Y/N, is the rehabilitation not going well?” "Dr. Li, can you explain why my wife is in so much pain? Are you sure your rehabilitation training facilities here are sound?" You're shocked by how Caleb treats an old acquaintance, glaring at the doctor. His tone carries not only doubt, but a hint of accusation. Zayne explains patiently. “This rehabilitation program Y/N chose is indeed intense and very challenging. But if she perseveres, I can promise it will be effective. The pain is like bones being rebuilt. As her husband—”

“As her husband, I refuse to let her undergo such a cruel course!” Caleb interrupts sharply. His face is ashen as he carries you away. You are furious. Turning toward Zayne, you say quickly, “Dr. Li, I’m sorry, I—” “Shut it!" Caleb snaps.

He carries you straight to the parking lot and shoves you into the car.

The nurse runs after you, handing you your bag. “Ms. Y/N, you…” “I’ll come again tomorrow,” you say with a faint smile. The pain today was almost unbearable, but you have no intention of giving up.

Once you set your mind on something, the word "quit" isn't in your dictionary. Just like years ago, when you discovered your love for dance, you pursued it without hesitation. Like when you fell in love at sixteen, you pursued it wholeheartedly, even if it meant running repeatedly into a wall and coming away bruised. And like now, determined to get back up on your feet—you will never look back.

Caleb closes the car door, and gets into the drivers seat. “You won't be coming back here tomorrow.” “Caleb!” You're livid. “What right do you have to interfere with my freedom?” “Because,” he says slowly, word by word, “I’m your husband.”

You think about everything that's happened and could only laugh at his statement.

“My husband? A man who dedicates his whole life to another woman is my husband? Caleb, don’t be ridiculous.” So funny that you almost don’t even feel sad anymore.

Caleb turns the rearview mirror toward you. “Look at yourself. Look at what you look like now.”

You glance at your reflection.

Your hair is soaked with sweat. Your face is damp, and your clothes cling to your body after the brutal training. You look disheveled—truly disheveled. Even now your lips tremble slightly, and your hands still shake. But you don’t think anything is wrong. This is proof of your effort.

“What’s wrong with me?” You touch the healthy flush on your cheeks, satisfied.

“Y/N, you don’t need to…” Caleb sighs. “I know you’re being stubborn. MC is back. She’s more beautiful than you, healthier than you, more capable than you. You’re upset, so you push yourself like this, wanting to prove yourself to her.”

You stare at him. Is he out of his goddamn mind?

“Y/N, you don’t have to suffer like this. Seeing you so exhausted makes my heart ache.” His gaze softens. “You don’t need to compare yourself with anyone. No matter what state you're in, you’re still Mrs. Xia. That will never change.”

“Anxious? Me, competing with your MC?” You interrupt incredulously, unable to hold it in it any longer. “Caleb, how dare you!” “First, I have never compared my beauty, health, or ability with your dear Pipsqueak. Second, my life is full of wonderful things, none of which involve you or her. And finally, I've told you a hundred times: whether or not I’m Mrs. Xia, I don't give a shit!"

What on earth makes him think your entire life revolves around MC?

But Caleb refuses to believe you. His expression shifts from gentle to mocking. “Y/N, if you weren’t jealous, would you be so determined to make me jealous? You’re wrong. It will only push me further away.”

You roll your eyes. Talking to someone like this is exhausting.

“And you say you don’t care?” Caleb sneers. “The more someone lacks something, the more they pretend not to want it. Y/N, don’t think I don’t know. You had a crush on me in high school. You asked me to help you with homework just to get my attention. You gave me mooncakes during Mid-Autumn Festival because you wanted to pursue me. After university, you even risked your life to save me. And now you say you don’t care? Who would believe that?”

You freeze.

You thought that after everything you’ve been through, nothing could hurt you anymore. But you underestimated how deeply this relationship could still wound you.

He knows everything.

Yes, you once liked him, but that was a secret you kept to yourself. You asked him to tutor you because you wanted a way to pay him without hurting his pride. You gave him mooncakes during Mid-Autumn Festival simply because you wanted him to feel a little warmth on that lonely holiday. And later, when you saved him… Even though it left you with a limp, you never expected repayment—let alone marriage.

You had already accepted defeat in this marriage. You built a hard shell around yourself, telling yourself not to feel pain anymore. Yet somehow, every act of kindness you once showed him has become an arrow he now shoots back at you, piercing straight through your armor.

You suddenly feel too tired to explain anything. When the day finally comes that you leave him completely, he will understand whether you ever cared about the title of Mrs. Xia.

Seeing you fall silent, Caleb reaches out and wraps an arm around your shoulders again. You hold your breath.

You remember a Mid-Autumn night long ago. The two of you sat under an osmanthus tree eating mooncakes. He smelled faintly of sweet osmanthus. That fragrance drifted through your youth for years, warming you. But now, when Caleb comes close, all you smell is suffocating perfume.

Disgusted, you turn away and slap his hand aside. “Don't touch me. I told you—it disgusts me.” Anger flashes through Caleb’s eyes. Yet he doesn’t shout. Instead, his voice softens. “Y/N, I know you love me. The vow I made will never change. You will always be my Mrs. Xia."

These words have never sounded so grating against your ears. 

T - 6 days Today is the day you are scheduled to pick up your visa. You pack your purse carefully, pausing when the little rectangular piece of plastic that has always lived in your shared bedroom drawer is gone. Where did your ID go? You look everywhere in the room. Still nothing. Your pulse rising, you think back to the last few days. You haven't touched it at all. Caleb! He was rummaging through here this morning.

You immediately pick up your cell phone to call him. Shockingly, he answers on the first ring. "Caleb, do you have my ID?" You ask, slightly breathless. "Good morning to you to," he says sarcastically. "Caleb! Is it with you!" You press on. "Yes." His reply is short and straight to the point. "Why did you take it?" You're exasperated, concerned you'll have to reschedule for later. "Why do you need it?" He shocks you by turning your question against you. "None of your business! I need it today." A slight pause from him on the other end. "Come get it then." "Get it... from your workplace?" You say incredulously. "If you want it, come get it." He hangs up. You stare at your phone dumbfoundedly. Then immediately call a cab to the Farspace Fleet HQ.

You've never really came to his workplace in the five years you spent together. The only other time you recall entering the building wasn't the most unpleasant experience for you either.  You text him as you enter, informing him of your arrival. He doesn't reply this time. You call, but it doesn't go through. You frown. Was he in a meeting? You don't have all day, so you are forced to go to the front counter and reveal your identity.

"The Colonel's wife?" The receptionist looks at you and laughs. "Young lady, everyone who comes here claims to be the Colonel's wife. If you're going to think of an excuse, find one that's less cliché." "I'm serious. Call the Colonel, and tell him Y/N is here. He'll know to come down." You're not in the mood to play games.  "That's what they all say. If we did that, you'd think the Colonel wouldn't have time for anything other than dealing with people like you all day." The receptionist rolled her eyes and muttered. "People like me?" You frown. "And pray, what am I?" "Shameless women who want to climb the social ladder without working for it!" the receptionist laughs. "At least other women come here with presentable features, but now we're getting cripples? You should at least know your place!"

Is it really true that birds of a feather flock together? You can't wrap your head around her thinking. Why is it that no stranger outside of Caleb's circle harbor any ill will towards you and your leg, while everyone around Caleb is like this? You're thinking of going home and getting your marriage certificate to prove your place; you certainly aren't going anywhere by talking to the workers down here. 

Just then, the elevator door opens, and Liam walks out. Seeing the Adjutant, the receptionist immediately turns respectful. "Adjutant Lin!" She greets him properly.  "Madam Y/N, I am the Colonel's Adjutant. Please come with me." He leads the way, letting you into the elevator. The two of you head straight to the top floor.

"The Colonel is in a meeting right now," he explains, leading you to a small office. "Please wait in here for now."  You thank him and put your bag down. A few minutes later, a knock is heard, and a lady emerges from the door.  "Ms. Y/N, I am the Colonel's secretary. Would you like something to drink?"  "Anything is fine, or just water," you reply. She returns with a glass of juice. "Is passionfruit drink ok?" "That's wonderful, thank you." You take the glass.  "Just sit tight, I'll come get you once the meeting ends." She smiles, and closes the door behind her. 

Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty, and thirty.  You watch the time tick by, growing impatient. Finally, you get up to open the conference room door, only to find it locked from the outside. Damn it! You still need to pick up your visa this afternoon. You frantically call Caleb's phone, but strangely, no one picks up despite the call going through. You're smart enough to know that this is most certainly a setup, but you don't have the time nor heart to figure out who orchestrated this entire thing or what their purpose was. You just wanted to get your visa. You pound on the door, frantically, yelling, but no one answers.  You sit down and pick up the passion fruit lemonade, drinking it down in one gulp. Hands trembling, you quickly type out an email rescheduling your visa appointment.

Suddenly, your face begins to itch. This isn't passion fruit lemonade at all…

You check the time: another ten minutes had passed. Neither Liam nor the secretary had returned, and nobody else knew you were here… You feel your throat closing, as your breathing gets heavier.  You drag yourself, limping to the door, continuing to pound on it as you are no longer able to make any noise. You catch sight of a red box. 

Throughout the office, everyone is methodically going about their work when suddenly, the building's fire alarms start blaring loudly.  "What's going on?" People run out of their cubicles and offices to see what's going on. "Someone pulled the fire alarm on the top floor! Everyone evacuate!"

Caleb also hears the noise, and comes out immediately.  "What's going on? How can there be a fire up here?" His eyelids have been twitching all day. He had a strange, ominous premonition.

Thunk... thunk... thunk...

It sounds like someone is weakly banging on the door. "Who's in there?" Caleb asks urgently, kicking the door. MC appears from behind him, clinging to his shoulder. "Gege! Don't go in there! It could be dangerous!" "Someone's in here!" Caleb shouts. "Caleb... Help... help me... Caleb..."  A weak cry, barely audible over the commotion in the hall. Caleb's eyes widen in shock. "Y/N! Y/N! Is that you in there? Y/N answer me!" He forcefully shakes off MC's hand, barging against the door with his shoulder. "Someone! Help! Open the door!"

With a loud bang, he breaks the door down. 

You're on the floor, fallen to the side. Body red, face nearly turning purple.  "Y/N!" he cries, quickly picking you up. "Call an ambulance!" His roar echoes throughout the entire floor. His voice startles you, as you weakly open your eyes, looking at the familiar yet unfamiliar face in front of you. You want to raise your hand to check if it is real, but your arm refuses to move.  You try to speak, but no sound comes out. You manage a weak smile and barely manage to mouth the words: "if... I'm dead... won't... owe me anything... you'll... free.." "Stop it! You won't die!" Caleb runs down dozens of flights of stairs. You close your eyes. You don't mind saying goodbye to all of this. "Y/N, don't sleep on me, ok? Wake up! Wake up, you hear me?" The last thing you her is Caleb's frantic voice. 

T - 5 days You wake up in the hospital after getting an acute dose of epinephrine. Zayne gives you a thorough examination, and finds no other acute problems. After determining you're stable enough to step down to the observation area, he scolds you seriously. "Walking around without an epipen with a serious allergy? You could've died from anaphylaxis! How could you be so careless?"

Caleb is still somewhat shaken by it all. "An allergic reaction? Y/N, what did you eat that caused this?" You sit there silently.

"Let's observe her a little longer. There are still a few results pending. We'll see what happens when the results come back," Zayne says before leaving.

Caleb sighs and sits down beside you, continuing to carefully dab at your neck and shoulders with the cotton swab.  It stings a little. You frown and turn away. "Don't move, Y/N. I'm trying to clean it. Don't want any infections from your blisters." The words sound familiar. In the early days after your injury, he had said similar things. But it was that gentleness, this feigned gentleness, that gave you false hope and expectation in him.  He's acting so kind again - what's he trying to do?

You no longer trust anything he says. 

“I remember you’re allergic to apples. Did you eat apples before coming to the HQ today? But Mrs. Chen knows not to buy them... Did you eat something new on your way here?” His tone is like coaxing a child… You purse your lips, giving him a cold laugh. “I didn’t eat anything. I’m calling the police.” your tone is firm. “Call the police?” Caleb frowns. There's a rustling sound outside the room. You turn around to see that MC had arrived.

T - 4 days MC stands outside holding a bouquet of flowers, looking cautious and timid. "Caleb, how is Y/N? I wanted to come see her, but I was worried she wouldn't want to see me." "Y/N's fine, she just needs some rest," Caleb says, knowing you indeed dislike her. "I appreciate your sentiment, but she's in a bad mood right now, you should go back." "Hmm..." MC purses her lips, eyes rimmed with tears. "Caleb, I'm sorry, it's all my fault. As your personal assistant, I was careless, causing Y/N to suffer like this. I'm so glad she's alright, otherwise... otherwise, I don't know what I would do..." She starts crying.

You, still in the room, hear everything. MC joined the Farspace Fleet as Caleb's personal assistant? So that's why she went on the mission with him. However, since she's his assistant, everything that happened today makes sense now. 

You grab your bag, turning on your phone.  "What are you doing?" Caleb comes back seeing you enter your password. "I told you, I'm calling the police." You successfully unlock it. 

MC rushes into the room, Gideon behind her now. "Y/N, tread carefully. This is the Farspace Fleet HQ we're talking about. Are you sure the authorities will respond to this? What happened in the meeting room was an accident, I swear." "Oh? And how would you know it was an accident?" you scoff. "Were you the one who locked the door?" MC's face immediately turns pale. "How could you say that about me! It was Secretary Lu who led you to the conference room, she was the one who brought you the apple juice. She said the door was locked from the inside!" "Apple juice?" You look into MC's flustered eyes. You have a pretty good idea of what's going on now. "I never said I drank apple juice, how did you know it was apple juice?" MC avoids your eyes. "No, I... As Caleb's personal assistant, I checked everything before coming here! Secretary Lu explained everything that happened from picking you up to asking you to wait in the conference room." "Is that so?" You turn to look at Caleb. "There aren't many people in this world who knows I'm allergic to apple juice. Not even my parents." Only your grandparents. And Caleb. 

Caleb's face stiffens.

You remain unusually calm. "Caleb Xia, your secretary kept telling me she gave me passion fruit juice. How did it turn into apple juice? Did Secretary Lu deliberately tamper with it, or did someone switch the drink around? And Caleb, who have you told about my apple juice allergy?" MC's face is deathly pale.  You don't wait for her to reply. "And the doors? There's security cameras all over the Farspace HQ. A quick check will bring everything to light. Of course, if the cameras were tampered with... that's a whole different issue. So I'm going to have to call the police about it". 

Caleb's face drops, his expression changing drastically. "Pips... did you really...?"

She runs forward to grab his arm. "No Gege! I swear! It wasn't me, it must've just been a joke!" "A joke?" you sneer. "Your group seems to love joking around the most. I've lived for over twenty five years and never knew that you guys had jokes that could kill people!" "No, no, no.." MC shakes her head violently, "Gege, listen to me! It wasn't me, I promise-" "She's lying" you say flatly, dialing the tone.

Gideon, unable to contain himself any longer, smacks the phone out of your hands. "Who's lying! You're the one lying, for your own selfish reasons, slandering an innocent person!" His line of thinking is really quite creative, giving everyone else a new inspiration to ride off of.  "Y/N," MC cries, looking at you with disbelief, "I can't believe you hate me this much, that you'd put your own life in danger to frame me! If you hate me that much, just kick me out! Don't torment Caleb like this! Do you care for him at all? Do you know how terrified he was? I never thought it'd all be staged!" Gideon scoffs, "isn't acting pitiful her specialty? Wasn't her saving Caleb five years ago the same thing? She wanted to force him into marrying her!"

You knew all too well how cruel Gideon could be, and how little he thought of you. Yet you never expected him to say something so shameless: that you saving Caleb five years ago was self-sabotage to trick him into marriage!

Sometimes, when anger reaches its peak, it paradoxically turns into calm. You look at Caleb, despite knowing time and time again that he won't side with you. But in this moment, you just want to ask him one question: if he thought the same as Gideon.  Then it wouldn't just be a matter of you being foolish. You would've been better off saving a dog five years ago. 

"Caleb," you stand, not a ripple of emotion behind your eyes. "Come here." Caleb, sandwiched between Gideon and MC, looks at you.  "Caleb, don't go!" Gideon and MC say it almost simultaneously.

His gaze meets yours. After a brief silence, Caleb stands up and walks to you.  You look at the man you had risked your life for, the man you "traded" your leg for.  You calmly ask, "Do you think so too?" He doesn't speak. "You also..." you stare into deep amethyst eyes, the echo of the conversation you had with him after he interrupted your physical therapy still ringing in your ears. "You also think that today's events were done on purpose? You also think that I saved you five years ago expecting you to marry me?"

Something in Caleb's eyes narrow, and he looks away. "Say it, Caleb! Look at me!"  A minute of silence passes. "Yes."

You gasp, as if that would force you to swallow the pain, but your vision still blurs  uncontrollably. The quiet but resolute "yes" feels like a boulder crashing into your chest, the lingering pain still reverberating over and over after the initial damage. How could someone who has been hurt to this extent still be sad?

smack!

Your handprint remains on Caleb's face where you slapped him; your fingernails leaving a thin trace of blood, particularly striking on his handsome features. "Get out." "Y/N-" "Get the FUCK out or I will."

You don't even wait for him to make a decision - you stumble out of the room without looking back.

T - 3 days You collapse onto the bed when you get home, your body still throbbing with pain. Mrs. Chen calls you for dinner, but you're too exhausted to move.  "Bring it in," say. Except for the initial period after your accident when you were bed-bound, you never got into the habit of eating in bed.  You cherished your home with Caleb so much that you couldn't bear to see anything dirty or out of place. Looking back, you laugh at your stupid thinking. What good is a house if you don't use it? 

After you finish eating, Mrs. Chen takes the plate away and asks if you want to take a bath. You nod. "Please run me some water, and then change the bedding to clean ones."  "Okay." She leaves to start running the water.

You try to get out of bed and make your way to the bath yourself, but after only a few steps, your legs feel weak. Your body's overexertion and emotional outburst from earlier don't make your condition any better.  Mrs. Chen comes back out and is worried to see your trembling, unstable figure. "Madam, shall I help you?" You take a deep breath and nod.  She helps you to the bathroom and didn't let go until you're comfortably seated in the bathtub. "Thank you," you say. 

You lean back, the warm water soothing every inch of your skin, easing the soreness and making you feel much more comfortable. After a while, the water cools, and you call for Mrs. Chen again. You still don't want to open your eyes.  

Footsteps approach and stop at the edge of the bathtub, but you hear no movement afterwards. You frown. "Mrs. Chen..." You open your eyes to see Caleb. "Why are you here?" You're startled, instinctively covering any part of your body above the water. "Get out!" You call loudly for Mrs. Chen. "Mrs. Chen won't come in." He looks down at you, his gaze deep. "Mrs. Chen!" you continue to call, unwilling to give up. "You think Mrs. Chen is going to listen to you, or the person who pays her salary? He leans down, his face suddenly very close to yours, so close that you can clearly see his bloodshot eyes and your own reflection in his pupils. "What exactly do you want?" You grip the edge of the bathtub tightly, your defenses fully raised.

He reaches into the soapy water, grabbing your shoulders and lifting you entirely out of the tub. You feel a chill run down your spine. This is the first time you've been completely exposed in front of Caleb. Humiliation and panic overwhelms you in an instant. "Let go of me, you dirty bastard!" You begin to struggle in his arms, but it's an useless endeavor. “If you want to fall and get hurt, then keep being stubborn!” His deep voice carries a threatening tone. You come to your senses and slowly stop. You can't risk getting hurt now. You're leaving in a couple days. You can't afford to have any more accidents.

“Not moving anymore?” he asks, revealing no emotion. “Caleb Xia, don't make me hate you.” You say. He gives you a bitter smile. “Don't you hate me enough already?” You remain silent. Your relationship with Caleb has indeed reached a point of no return.

He snorts coldly, wrapping you in a bath towel, and walks out of the bathroom back to the bedroom, placing you on the bed. He sits you on the edge and goes back, reappearing with a hairdryer.  As he plugs it in, blowing hot air into your wet hair, you're momentarily stunned.  What's he trying to do? Apologize? Make it up to you? Or is it just all for MC again? The only sound in the room is the roar of the hairdryer; neither of you speak. After he finishes, he rummages through the bedside drawer, clumsily tying your hair up into a knot. 

Several bruises on the top of your back and shoulders from falling reveal themselves  He stares at them for a moment, then forcefully rips away the towel wrapped around you. "Look at yourself! What are you doing to yourself these days, doing that stupid rehab?!" What does this have to do with him at all? You quickly pull the blanket back over herself, glaring at him with hostility. "Caleb, believe me, I really will kill you." He sits down opposite from you, his eyes filled with sarcasm. "We've been married for five years, and this is your attitude when I try to touch you?"

What else does he expect? What attitude should you have?

You smile mockingly. "Caleb, I told you. Your hands are dirty. Also, if you touch me, aren't you afraid your Pipsqueak will be heartbroken?" He doesn't reply, only pushing you down onto the bed, but doesn't move to pull away the blanket. You feel his warm hand on your calf. He's massaging your scars again? You give up struggling, already somewhat familiar with his methods. Unsolicited kindness is always suspicious; he must want something from you. He continues applying ointment to your bruises, from your leg up to your arms, then your back.  Once he's done, he covers you with a blanket, meeting your cold gaze. You look at him with no hint of gratefulness, just waiting. He tucks you in more tightly, forcing a bitter smile. "Y/N, how did we get to this point?"

He's asking you why things had come to this? Didn't he know?

He sighs deeply. "Y/N, let's talk about this calmly." You consider it for a moment. Since MC appeared, you've always been calm, never wavering. It's him, on the other hand, who was always emotional because of MC. “Caleb Xia, I don’t know what we have to talk about anymore,” you say indifferently. “I’ve already made myself clear.” Caleb's hand reaches under the covers to find your hand and grasps it tightly. “Y/N, I didn’t want this. From the beginning until now, I swear I've been sincere in wanting to live a good life with you.” “Is that so?” you sneer. “From the beginning? Didn't you think I was a venomous woman who used a self-inflicted injury to force you to marry me?”

Caleb closes his eyes, remaining silent for a long time. “Colonel Xia,” you smile, “Please let go of my hand and get me a bottle of disinfectant” When Caleb opens his eyes, the bloodshot veins are particularly noticeable. He doesn't ask why, just gets up to fetch it, and hands it to you.

You prop yourself up on the bed, and begins methodically spraying it on your hands, arms, legs, stomach, back—everywhere he had just touched. Caleb's expression instantly changes. "What are you doing?" "I'm disinfecting myself. I told you, your hands are dirty." You finish spraying and calmly place the alcohol bottle on the bedside table. "You…" Caleb is aggravated again. You simply turn over and lie down to sleep.

After a while, Caleb finally speaks to you again, his voice soft. "We've been married for five years. In these five years, I haven't wronged you, have I?" Five years... your heart clenches. You don't want to look back on the past five years. "I'm so grateful to you for saving me back then, and for giving me a chance to atone. For the past five years, I've given you everything I could. So can you do just one more thing? If you agree to this favor, I'll do anything you ask from now on." Here it comes…

"You want me to drop the case and reconcile with MC and your two cronies?" You cut to the chase.

T - 2 days Yes," Caleb says, his voice utterly broken. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I have to protect MC. She was the only light in the darkest moments of my life." Your heart sinks to the bottom of the ocean. What in the world is Caleb thinking? Telling his lawful wife that another woman is his only light, and expecting you to help him?

"Y/N," he continues, "you know that my grandmother was the most important person in my life. MC was good friends with Zayne, an upperclassman whose parents were doctors. Through her connections was how my grandma was able to get treatment after she fell ill. One evening, when I visited Grandma, there was a bottle of origami cranes beside her pillow. The nurse said it was a gift from a volunteer. They said that with the blessing of a thousand cranes, Grandma would definitely recover. Caleb chokes up a little. "Grandma didn't recover. The blessing of a thousand origami cranes only stayed a myth. But Y/N, do you understand the loneliness of that time when my world was completely dark, and I was struggling to bear everything alone? The girl who helped me share the burden while I was taking care of Grandma, the girl who lit up my dark world with origami cranes, was MC. I thought I would never see her again after she left, but she ended up coming back to me. I'm sorry Y/N. No matter what kind of person MC is, in my heart, she will always be that light." You listen silently, finally unable to help but smile.

Caleb Xia, are you really sure that the girl who folded the origami cranes was MC?

T - 1 day What was it like to have a crush on someone in your youth?

It was having your heart feel empty when he didn't come to class; even though there was only one empty seat, the whole world became hollow; It was the world suddenly brightening when he steps into the classroom. The sunlight outside the window shining like gold, but it couldn't possibly compare to the radiance surrounding him at that moment. It was when his smile warmed your heart, and when he frowned, your heart clenched; It was the satisfaction in watching him from afar, letting time quietly slip by, wanting to give your everything to him but not wanting him to know…

That year, when you learned that the weariness and pain Caleb tried so hard to hide was because his grandmother was seriously ill and hospitalized, every weekend, you'd wear a mask and get up before dawn every morning, catch the bus to the hospital, and help his grandma with breakfast and keep her company. You lied about your identity every time, simply saying you were a volunteer. You weren't sure if paper cranes could actually make wishes come true, but being young and full of sincere wishes, you secretly folded a bottle full of paper cranes for his grandmother. There certainly weren't a thousand total, but the bottle was full. It took you a long time folding, and you wrote a blessing on each piece of paper before carefully folding it inside. While wishing Caleb's grandmother a speedy recovery, you also prayed for her own grandparents' health.

At that time, you felt that you and Caleb had so much in common. None of your parents were in the picture. You both depended on their grandparents' for survival. You were both struggling to grow up against the odds, trying your best to maintain your lives, your pride, and self-respect. You once thought that you and Caleb were like two trees growing side by side, far apart, your branches never intersecting in the air, yet your roots in the soil were always tightly intertwined.

In the end, you've been deluding yourself.

You just smile without speaking or explaining anything to him. If it were before, perhaps you would have explained to him that you were the volunteer. But now, there is truly no need.

You traded your leg for his life, saving him from being run over by a car. If in his eyes, it was all a ploy, a way to trick him into marrying you, then what would the origami cranes you folded all those years ago mean to him? Were they, like the mooncakes from that Mid-Autumn Festival, just a means to woo him as well? Even if he didn't think of you as so calculating and despicable, what difference would it make?

He simply doesn't love you. You've tried for five years already. The fact is, you saved his life. Regardless of his motives for marrying you, the end result is the same: he doesn't love you. So why add another layer of trouble? You've known him since you were twelve. 15 years now. If love could truly change people, you would have done so long ago. The truth is, no matter what you did for him, it wouldn't change a thing.

Besides, you already have a clear future and plans. You'll cut ties completely with this person and stop this entanglement for once and for all. Only a smile remains on your face. A smile that is both laughable and pathetic.

"What are you laughing at?" Caleb was probably lost in his own memories, so it's understandable that he felt a bit resentful that his heartfelt story is met with nothing but a laugh. You lower your eyes, a faint smile still on your lips. "It's nothing, I'm just very touched. I'll do as you wish under one condition." He looks at you expectantly. "I'll have my lawyer send over some papers. At long as you sign them, MC is off the hook." "You... really?" Caleb isn't sure if you're being sarcastic.

"I'm serious." You lie on the bed, looking up at him, the faint sadness in your eyes gone, replaced by a genuine smile. "I wish you a long and life."

T - 0 days When Caleb leaves this morning, he tells you to wait for him at home, the same as usual. However, he lingers at the door for a minute longer, gazing at you with eyes filled with an unfamiliar emotion. There's no point thinking about it anymore. Nothing in the world will convince Caleb Xia that his wife would want to leave him.

Will he realize you're truly gone when he sees the empty closet? It won't matter if he doesn't; your letter, the lawyer, and the divorce papers will tell him. You look back one last time at the home you lived in for five years.

You write one last line in your notebook: "0 days until I leave Caleb Xia: Goodbye, I'm going to fly higher."

You turn off the lights and close the door.

You stick a paper crane on the door; let this paper crane wait for him in your place; perhaps, it will tell him the answer.

***

T + 6 days: Caleb feels like he's actually gone insane. The first night you don't come home, he plays it off as another one of your temper outbursts. Afterall, the paper crane on the door was your way of mocking his past with MC, wasn't it?. The second night he blows up your phone. Nothing goes through. By the third day, he is contacted by your lawyer with the divorce papers prepared and already signed by you. You ask for none of his assets and no compensation. He nearly destroys the office table in anger. After another two days to calm down, the panic and unease in his chest grow to new lengths. He stalks the entire city. Tries going after your telephone records, search history. He finds your preparation to leave him starting long, long before he suspected anything out of the ordinary. He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to laugh at the pathetic sight before him. He can't possibly go to work in this state, so he turns around to go home instead. 

He takes a shower and sits in the chair in your bedroom, lost in thought. This is the chair you used to sit in. You'd sit here watching dramas, reading, oh right, probably studying how to get away form him too.  Your belongings are still on the table: pens in the pen holder, and several books you read, the most recent being art history, lying on the desk. Fiddling with the paper crane.

He opened a drawer, which was also full of books. Digging through its contents, he finds a notebook. He pulls it out and opens it. The contents read: Countdown to leaving Caleb Xia. T -  22 days: The jewelry he gave me were all mementos of someone else.  T - 11 days: He gave our wedding rings to someone else too. But I don't even want him anymore, so why should I care about the ring?

His eyes sting.

"I don't even want this person anymore…" So, from that moment on, you truly wanted a divorce. Every time you brought it up, it was from the heart. It wasn't a tactic to keep him, nor was it a way to force MC to leave. You genuinely wanted to leave him…

Looking further, you had recorded every single thought that, in the month before you left, seemed trivial to him. With each passing day, your heart seemed to die a little more. He lowers his head, forehead resting on the notebook. His eyes ache terribly. In those 20-odd days, if he had even a few moments of empathy, if he had considered things from your perspective, he might have still had a chance to salvage the relationship. But he didn't. He went down a path of no return, finally leading to a complete break between you.

He thought you would never leave him, never leave this home, which is why he stood on MC's side time and time again. He thought, "She's my wife, she's family, she'll never leave. No matter when I come back, she'll be waiting at home..." You loved him so much, you've liked him since high school, even risked your life for him. How could he have believed that you really wanted to divorce him?

T + 24 days: Caleb sighs, a bitter smile on his face. He doesn't know what was wrong with him; why everything had been so bitter lately. The food he eats taste bitter, the water tastes bitter, even the air around him seems to carry a faint bitterness.

That afternoon, Liam comes to his office, inviting him out to dinner with Gideon.  Sitting behind his desk, Caleb feels listless. "Forget it, I'm too tired. You guys go ahead, I'll cover it." "Colonel," Liam protests, before switching to addressing him by name. "Caleb. Do you think I'm starving? I can see you're unhappy these days, and I figured getting together with you and Gideon would allow you to have some fun. Caleb shakes his head, hating how his hairs bristled at the mention of his friend. "I hate crowds, forget it."

"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon pops in, looking at him, his eyes filled with worry. "You used to love being with your brothers, having fun together. As long as the crew is together, your worries would disappear. I can invite MC along too, she'll make you feel better." Caleb freezes. What is wrong? He didn't know what was wrong either. It's just an instinctive reaction; he didn't want to go.

Later, at the bar, Caleb is still trying to think of why he feels uncomfortable. "Maybe... I'm getting old?" As you get older, you grow weary of crowds and want to be alone in peace and quiet. Liam laughs. "You're old? You...you're old? What am I then?" Well, if not, then Caleb couldn't find a reason.

"Caleb, what's wrong with you?" Gideon sighs. "We all know you didn't want to marry Y/N in the first place. You didn't love her. Isn't it better that you're getting a divorce now?" "Yeah..." Caleb's eyes glaze over. "Isn't it supposed to be better? But, Gideon, why am I not okay? I'm really not okay at all." "Is it just that you've gotten used to it? It's hard to let go of someone suddenly in your life, like when I had a dog when I was little. I had it for years, and one day it got into an accident and passed. I cried for a long time." Liam tries to help. Caleb shakes his head. "That's not how it works, Liam. Didn't you love your dog? You cried." Liam is stumped. "Oh, right. I definitely loved it."

All three of them fall silent.

Liam thinks for a long time before slowly saying, "Caleb, you didn't fall in love with Y/N, did you?" Caleb feels as if he's been struck on the head. He had never considered this question before. "Let me ask you this," Liam continues, "you're single now, right? If you had two choices: one, go back to Y/N, and she'd still be your Mrs. Xia; two, marry MC. You could marry MC if you want to! Which would you choose if you had these two options in front of you?" Caleb doesn't hesitate at all. "Liam, what are you saying? When did I ever plan to marry MC? Since she came back, the thought of marrying her never even crossed my mind!" Liam is stunned. "I literally thought MC was your wife the first day you brought her to the headquarters! Wasn't it because you had Y/N before? Now that you're divorced, you're still not considering MC?" "Liam, MC and I are a thing of the past," Caleb says with a small laugh, "What are you thinking?" "Then, why are you so good to her?" he stammers. "Am I not good to you?" Caleb retorts. "Am I not good to Gideon?" "Then...how...can this be comparable?" Liam didn't know what to say. "How is it different? The two of you are my brothers since we were trainees at the DAA, and we've all worked our way up to our positions now. When MC was with me, she was still a high schooler, encouraging me on when I was was nothing but a new recruit. She didn't get to reap any of the benefits of that work, she had a hard time abroad. Of course I have to pamper her when she comes back, she's my little sister, right, Gideon?" "Uhhh.... Anyway..." Liam thought it was VERY different.

"Of course it's different!" A voice booms from behind. It's Yvette. Liam quickly stands up. "Darling, why are you here?" "I came to see what nonsense you're spouting, you idiot!" Yvette's face darkens. "You guys are still talking about that two-faced bitch?" "No...wife, please... don't say such nonsense. How could MC be two-faced?" Liam quickly looks at Caleb, fearing for his job. “Try saying another word for her” Yvette points at Liam's nose, as if she's about to slap him into oblivion “No, I won’t say anything… I won’t…” Yvette's anger finally subsides. “Let’s go home!”

Liam hesitates. “Darling, how about we have dinner with the Colonel today?” “No way!” Yvette's temper flares again, pointing at Liam once more “I don’t hang out with your kind of people! You’re going home to eat too! He deserves it! He’s not worth wasting time on!” Liam looks troubled, hoping his wife would show some mercy.

Strangely, Caleb doesn't seem offended at all. He asks Yvette with a smile, "What kind of person am I?"

Yvette turns to look at him, scoffing. "I didn't want to talk about you, because you scumbags and bitches get angry and it's bad for my baby. I don't want my baby to see the ugliness of this world while still in my belly. But since you're asking like this, I've changed my mind." Liam sweats profusely. "My darling, no, let's just let our baby grow peacefully. Don't change your mind." "No!" Yvette declares. "I've decided to teach our baby to distinguish right from wrong!"

She turns to face Caleb again. "Colonel Xia, I'm not trying to be mean, but stop acting like you're some sort of saint. What's with all this talk about MC being there for you when you were down on your luck, about her suffering abroad and wanting to compensate her? Is it so hard to admit you're a cheater? Aren't you just trying to cover up the fact that you're greedy and have always looked for something better?" Caleb's face turns ashen. "I didn't, MC and I didn't..." Yvette's spirit is still high. "I don't give a fuck if you and MC slept together or not! That's not my business. I only care about Liam! But Caleb, this isn't about physical cheating!"

Liam is getting increasingly anxious hearing his wife absolutely tear through his boss without any restraint. Was this something she could just casually say? Out in public?? He immediately covers her mouth. "Let her talk!" Caleb's expression darkens.

"I'll say it!" Yvette slaps away Liam's hand. "Colonel Xia! I told you you're a cheater! The ultimate scumbag! You enjoyed Y/N's wholehearted love while flirting with MC under the guise of "taking care of a sister? What brother buys you a house, bags, and luxury goods? What kind of siblings share a room together while out on a business trip? Oh right, Liam used to get that privilege when you were cadets, but is the stuff in your brain the same shade when you sleep with MC?!" Liam tries really hard not to laugh. "The stuff in your brain isn't the same color"? His wife's mouth was really something… But then again, even he didn't believe Caleb and MC's brains were pure when they were together…

"What are you laughing at?" Yvette turns around to scold her husband. "Your boss doesn't have a brain, it's filled with tofu! You think you're so great? Yours is filled with tofu dregs!" "Darling, please;;; if you want to scold me, let's go back home to do it" "Let me finish!" Yvette hadn't wanted to say all of this, but since she was asked to, she wouldn't be happy until she was finished. She glares at Caleb. "With your filthy thoughts, ask yourself, with your non-existent conscience, when you sided with MC again and again like no tomorrow, wasn't your heart soaring? Like you were back in your youth! Wasn't that right? An old man like you, suddenly rediscovering the feeling of pure love, wasn't your life full of passion? And then what? Clearly, you were emotionally unfaithful, I don't know if your filthy body has cheated on her! But whether it's emotional or physical, it's still cheating! And yet you still insist that there is nothing between you and MC. Caleb Xia, if you openly admit to cheating, I'd respect you as a man. But to cheat and then pretend to be deeply in love, I can only give you one word: scumbag! No, add another: despicable! Finally done, she glares at Liam, "Aren't you leaving?" "Oh, oh, oh." Liam apologizes to Caleb with his eyes, quickly removing himself from the premise.

T + 25 days Caleb checks his personal set of security cameras at work. You weren't lying. MC is clearly seen talking to the secretary, putting the apple juice in her hands. Gideon walks in, and Caleb slams his laptop shut. "Colonel?" A shudder runs down his spine as he meets Caleb's dark gaze. 

T + 31 days Yvette's brutal words live rent free in Caleb's head.

Five years ago, when MC first left, it was during a period of setbacks for him. He spent his entire youth preparing to get into the DAA. But now that he was there, he realized with a start that he, a small town boy, was so woefully unprepared compared to his peers. Years of hard work were on the verge of being wasted. He had a habit of shutting others out when he was struggling. MC knew it. And did her best to call him out of her own accord, always checking in, trying to make him feel better.  But it came the day she couldn't take it anymore. She up and left him, cutting off all communications suddenly. He wasn't stupid; of course he knew the reason why. However, he also had the self-awareness not to drag her down with him. Later, he heard that a wealthy second-generation heir had gone abroad with her.

He knew all of it.

His depression during that period was partly due to the breakup, and partly due to his career setbacks—a mixed bag. He got drunk sometimes, but not entirely out of despair. Most of the time, it was from entertaining his peers, or trying to network with higher-ups, practically begging and pleading for a chance. However, the night you saved him, he was truly heartbroken. He had faced rejection after rejection, losing all confidence and almost giving up. Then you saved him, trading your leg for his rebirth.

From that moment on, he carried the weight of another person's life on his shoulders. It was at that moment that he told himself: I absolutely cannot give up, I cannot give up. There are still people waiting for me to take responsibility for, waiting for me to support them.

Fate can be truly miraculous sometimes. It was after that car accident that things suddenly took a turn for the better. When you got discharged from the hospital, it was also the time his performance soared. After that, his missions only ever returned successful. Offers and promotions came in waves, and his power increased exponentially. 

And then, MC returned.

Somewhere deep in his heart, he faced her with resentment and bitterness, thinking: "The person you looked down on back then has now made it big, standing proudly before you. How do you feel?" He would never admit it though.  Just like the necklace of MC's dreams. The first birthday he spent with you, he thought to himself, "so what? The decorations MC liked, the style she fawned over, I've given them all to another girl. I can afford to do so." So, five years later, when MC returned, he carried this resentment, enjoying her adoration and affection, feeling a childish satisfaction. The person who abandoned him back then was now obediently fawning over him, trying to please him, and the resentment in his heart finally subsided.

But the scales in his heart had been tipped.

Just as Yvette said, he despicably indulged in two relationships, becoming lost in this ambiguity. He basked in MCs adoration and retaliated by showering her with affection and indulgence, as if this would prove to his former, down-on-his-luck self: I've made it big, I'm omnipotent. He never even considered it love or lack thereof. He simply wanted to frantically prove to MC his power, his influence, that he could spoil a woman to the extreme if he wanted.

Of course, in doing so, he hurt you.

But at that time, he didn't think about any of that; he was simply gradually losing himself in his relationship with MC. He explained to you that he was only remembering MC's kindness from when she made the paper cranes and that nothing ever happened between them. Perhaps this reason held some semblance of validity? He always needed a plausible excuse to mask his dark and despicable psychology. But it was also true. He could do anything for MC, except betray you —by betraying you, he meant maintaining boundaries and not doing anything physically inappropriate.

But Yvette said that emotional infidelity also counts as infidelity. Does it? Did he cheat on you? He wasn't sure himself. He couldn't distinguish whether his feelings for MC were of resentment or love.

The only thing he was certain of was that you loved him, loved him to the point of self-sacrifice. So, no matter how his heart swayed, you would always be his Mrs. Xia, and that would never change.

That day after he told you the story about the paper cranes, MC tried to embrace him from behind at work. In that moment, he realized: he couldn't possibly cross any physical boundaries with her. His destiny belonged to you. That night, he wanted to see you more than ever. So, he returned without delay, even before dinnertime. But you were already gone.

So even you could leave him too…

Even with the wealth and luxury and everything he could give you, you could still abandon it so easily. That's right, he laughs at himself, why would you care about money? That silly girl who used to live frugally, worrying about his financial situation, trying to pay him $5 for every math problem he tutored you in - how could you care about money?

He was wrong… He'd been too arrogant for too long, forgetting the path he'd come from, neglecting the most important person in his world. How ridiculous, only realizing you were the most important person after losing you.

And before that?

It seemed everything came before you. Work was more important than you, because he needed to develop his career, earn money, and support you for life; His pride was more important than you, so he absolutely couldn't lose face in front of MC, forcing you to apologize, even though you were never actually in the wrong.

His thinking was simple: even if he had wronged you, it wouldn't matter. You loved him so much; all he had to do was sweet talk and make it back up to you. In fact, many times, between you and MC, he chose to side with MC simply because he knew you would forgive him…

But you didn't. You wouldn't forgive him forever, nor would you wait for him forever.

T + 52 days: Liam stops by Caleb's office. It's past midnight. "Colonel..." he starts, stiffening as Caleb's dead gaze shifts onto him from the screen. "You've been here for the past 5 days straight. I think... you should go home now..." Home? Caleb laughs, a hollow sound, devoid of any positive emotion. Where would he go now? What is home to him?

He admits that in the past five years, he didn't love going home as much.

Mainly, when he first got married, he was afraid to go home and face you, your overwhelming love, and your injury. Guilt and remorse weighed on his heart like a brick, so much so that he couldn't even be intimate with you. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but just seeing your leg overwhelmed him with guilt, making it impossible to continue. And this created a vicious cycle: the greater the psychological pressure, the less he tried, and the less he tried, the greater the pressure… He even saw a therapist for some time, but it didn't help. Over time, he became increasingly adverse to returning home to see you, and staying at his office until midnight.

He had many excuses: logistics, planning, meetings with important stakeholders, out on missions, and most often, just being busy with work. He did indeed spend most of his time working, but no matter how late, he always had a direction in his heart—home. Whether it was his conscience or something else, going home every night was a routine, just like his work.

And now, his home was still there, but he didn't know where he should go after you left.

He always told himself that it was his responsibility to be good to you for the rest of his life, but he didn't even know when it started to become more than just a responsibility. It turned out that when the girl who always smiled at him like a sunflower was no longer there, home was no longer home, and going home lost its meaning.

But you had promised him that you would never leave him, whether in poverty or wealth; you had promised him that you would leave a light on for him no matter how late he came home. He truly believed that this light would illuminate him forever, so he gradually took advantage of you, until ultimately, he became the one who extinguished it.

T + 93 days Caleb's phone rings. Looking down, it's Zayne. “Caleb, what's up? I can't come out for dinner, but feel free to talk on the phone. I'm busy, I have to work overtime.” “Oh…” he says wistfully, “Then it's nothing.” He just had nowhere else to go and wanted to find a place to talk about the past, about people he once knew.

“Oh, by the way, do you remember Sylus Qin?” Zayne suddenly askes.

“I remember…” A name that wasn't so pleasant. “He's gone.” Caleb is taken aback. "Gone?" "He passed away. He actually passed a while ago, abroad." Zayne sighs. "It was an accident, don't tell Y/N." He's... gone?

A voice echoes in Caleb's mind again: "Hey, Caleb, that Y/N from your class..." "Get lost!"

Zayne remembers something else. "Oh, right, you can't tell Y/N anyway, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to dinner and rambling on and on about your past." Caleb remains silent. Lately, he keeps dreaming about when he was sixteen or seventeen, so he would occasionally chat with Zayne about it.  Zayne only ever told him the same thing: "Only those who are unhappy reminisce about the past; those who are full of vigor only stride forward. Caleb, let Y/N go. She deserves a better future."

Caleb feels a sudden, sharp pain in his heart, and his vision blurs. Now, he couldn't let it go even if he wanted to… But he had no right to not let it go…

“Zayne,” he says in a barely suppressed voice, “I regret it so much…” The more spirited and arrogant he had three months ago, the more desolate and regretful he feels now.

“Caleb Xia,” Zayne sneers on the other end, “You deserve it. Don't play victim with me now, look at your sordid affairs. How to spoke to her in front of me, in front of everyone else? You think none of us notice? How you had absolutely no respect for your ex-wife as a person?" “Zayne, I can't…” Before he can finish speaking, Zayne hangs up the phone. Caleb immediately dials him back.

After the third call, Zayne picks up again. A long silence ensues, until Zayne asks him, "Anything else to say? If not, I'm hanging up. I'm busy!" Caleb chokes for a moment before finally saying, "Zayne, if I said I love Y/N, would you believe me?"

"Bullshit!" Zayne curses, a rare occurrence. "Stop your pretentious nonsense! You don't love anyone but yourself; you're a selfish, self-serving piece of shit. Ask yourself honestly, who do you truly love? Whether was your mistress or Y/N, you only love whoever you need. Did you really even love MC or only what her reactions gave you? I wouldn't have cursed you if you hadn't said that, but hearing you say it out loud disgusts me! You bastard!"

T + 136 Days Caleb goes back to his hometown. Somewhere he hasn't been in many years. He traces the steps he once took to school, watching teenagers shout happily as they play with each other. Somehow, he finds himself in front of Sylus' house. To pay respects, he tells himself. He hesitates for another second before bringing his hand up to knock on the door. 

Two young men greet him. They can't be much older than 20. They stare at Caleb with the same, beady eyes. "Who are you?" "An old classmate of Sylus." He offers, taking his high school yearbook out from his backpack as proof. "We played soccer together. I know its a few years late, but I wanted to come pay my respects."  The twins lead him down to the basement, where many boxes of Sylus' belongings remained. Caleb flips through old textbooks and worksheets, jerseys and field-day awards, CDs and comic books from their youth.  Something small and pink falls out from a book in his hands. 

He bends over to pick it up: a single paper crane

Paper cranes? He picked up the fallen origami bird, its image overlapping with his memories of paper cranes. The page he turned to was a tutorial on how to fold paper cranes. Sylus had written notes on it with a pen. "Some silly girl is folding paper cranes for that Xia boy, and she won't let me help! How long will it take for her to fill that jar? Silly girl!" "Haha! I secretly stole one from her pile! Mischievous act of the day complete!" "Hehe, this silly girl writes something inside every single paper crane. I wonder what she wrote on the one I stole?"

"Written something?" Caleb frowns, picking up the paper crane from the ground and quickly unfolds it. Sure enough, there's a small line of writing inside: 'No matter what happens, you must be happy!'

Caleb's mind goes blank for a moment. He reads the words on the page again, then turns and runs. The noise he makes downstairs alerts the twins, who ask him if everything was alright. "Sorry Luke, Kieran. I have important work to do. I have to go back," Caleb says urgently, bidding farewell to the boys. He drives nonstop to Skyhaven, taking the stairs to the top floor and enters his office. He opens his desk drawer. Inside is a small glass box containing a paper crane.

He had buried all the other paper cranes with his grandmother, leaving only this one as a keepsake. The unfolded paper crane he had taken from Sylus' house lies open on his desk. The handwriting was all too familiar to him—yours. The other paper crane, which he had kept in the small glass box, was clearly made of the same paper but a different color.

He takes a deep breath, and without further delay, unfolds it with trembling fingers.

The orange paper crane reveals writing on it as well. This one reads: Grandma, you must recover. Caleb only has you. The same handwriting. The way you write is distinctive, always rounded and plump, with a kind of innocent charm, completely different from MC's. Looking at these words, his heart sinks as if it's been chained to an iron anchor, falling lower and lower into a bottomless abyss.

He had lost far more than he imagined…

Folding the two pieces of paper together, he finally breaks down in tears. Y/N, I'm sorry… He sits in his office, the whole world utterly silent.

If this were the end of time, how wonderful that would be; he no longer looked forward to waking with the sun the next day… But he could only stay awake, waiting for the night to pass. But the nights are too long. His life is only darkness now.

T + 613 days You carefully make your way onto the stage, eyes momentarily blinded by the sharp glare of stage lights. The applause is thunderous as a bouquet of flowers are presented to you from the dancers. Your thesis project, a fully choreographed piece, was being performed on stage by a full cast for the first time. You insisted on giving yourself a very small role, just a few small steps in the beginning as your leg continues to heal, but it was already more than enough to fill your heart as tears of joy threaten to spill from your eyes. 

Caleb watches your brilliant smile on his phone, in the darkness of his room. It's true that in the 1800 nights he was married to you, he has only wished you the best. Now you're out there, accomplishing your dreams. How much he wishes to be able to proudly say, "that's my Y/N!". But he cannot. Not now. Not that he ever had the right to say it. He reads the comments on the live stream religiously and replays your small segment of dance over and over until his vision blurs. 

Tonight, Caleb dreams of high school.

Back then, all of you were naive and full of youthful exuberance. It was a time of awkwardness and passion, everything direct and intense.

He dreams of Rafayel Shen. Rafayel loved to draw. Caleb had found Rafayel sketching you in the middle of class, and tore up his drawing after school. The two ended up having a fight, still a sore spot in their relationship to this day.

He dreams of Sylus Qin. They were playing soccer together, and you would watch them play from the most inconspicuous spot in the cheerleading squad on the playground, always leaving silently afterward. Sylus puts his arm around Caleb's shoulder, his gaze fixed on your retreating figure. "Hey, Y/N from your class looks real sweet." The young boy instantly knews what the other was up to, coldly announcing, "Get lost, I won't hesitate to beat you up if you mess with her.

Some boys would try to slip confession letters into your locker. You never received any, because Caleb always stopped them. Some boys would put treats in your desk. You never got to eat any, because Caleb always kept them for you, glaring at all the other boys in warning. It was once a childish but pure love, as bright and clear as morning dew.

Why did it change like this?

Caleb is lost in his dreams, unable to find the answer. He lost you.

He meets Zayne and ask him why you were missing. Zayne simply says, "Caleb Xia, you scumbag." He meets Rafayel, who grabs him by the collar, and the two get into a brawl. He meets Sylus, who smiles and says, "You bullied her, so I hid her. You'll never find her now." He sees many, many people, but you are nowhere to be found…

"Caleb!" A clear voice suddenly rings out behind him.

He turns around and sees a girl with a bright smile perform several somersaults, appearing before him.

"Y/N!" He opens his eyes, but all he sees is an empty ceiling. He lies on the bed, his phone still clutched in his hand, battery dead.

A dream.

His Y/N is gone forever.

Oh, it was definitely him. Toji Fushiguro was fully and officially pussydrunk. 

A filmy gaze takes over his verdant eyes when those words make your glossy entrance flood with a few more slathers of slick, splotches of it puddling all over his jagged happy trail. He was in heaven. 

That is, until Toji realizes just what he’s uttered and he’s inhaling a sharp gasp. Fuck.

Bulging pecs heaving with embarrassment and pure carnal need once he tiredly hovers up two fat fingerpads and smashes your cheeks together into a pathetic pout. Lurching you over and gifting your lolling pinkish tastebuds with a syrupy web of saliva to shut you up before you can even think of snarking back.

“Sh-shut up.” He’s groaning into your slack cavern, brandishing a harsh strike of his bloated tip circumference into your cervix. Tense core burning with the stretch, “Just- just if we’re gonna hck! make Megumi a big brother, m’gonna marry you, ma- don’t be stupid.”

Fuck- what?

Your heart races, and Toji seems to have realized the effect his little confession had on you - even when his mind was all melty and feverish like this. 

Because you’re getting graced with a rapid three spanks to your drooling slit, before drawing a lazy few hearts over your perky clit. The ravenous end of his thumb was driving you mad, “That’s right. Open ‘er wider. Lemme see, ma.”

“S-so bossy.” You’re muffling out a whine, yet mindlessly heeding to every word he was prattling off. There’s a resounding squelch! from below you once Toji pries apart your gluey walls and matches your other set of lips by spitting out a steady stream of spittle. Choking out a moan at the beads of his own cum leaking out of you, “Sh-shiiit, Toji—”

“T-T-Toji—” He’s mocking, so many dramatic octaves higher to hide the needy tremor in his words. The meaner Toji got, the meaner his thrusts became. 

And the meaner his calloused fingers were, wafting over your pussymound to swipe up every weepy ounce of seed. Popping a few generous helpings of caramel salt sap into your mouth, “N’ you say I’m the- ngh- pussydrunk one.”

But he was - oh, he was.

No matter how much he was planting his feet flatly on the soft mattress to hide the desperate shiver running through every overstimulated limb in his body, no matter how much he was scrunching his heavy lids shut to stow away just how far his glassy irises were sliding backwards. 

You were riding him for what felt like hours now, and he was already tearing up. Delicately-flushed face drooping into the cushy pillow. You’re humming, “You are.”

“Shut the fuh-fuck up.” He growls, a slow trickle of sweat forming at his temple. “Pussydrunk- tch. As if. Can ya see hearts in m-my eyes or what, ma?”

Toji couldn’t stop himself from reeling one big, beefy arm behind his head and clasping onto the mahogany headboard. Building up dangerously, “S-so what if I c-can’t think- so what if this pretty pussy makes me want a baby—” 

His massive biceps flex so attractively, knuckles straining - hard enough that your head snaps up at the splintering crack! of wood-

“Toji- fuck fuck fuck–” Struggling to get out mere syllables let alone full sentences, he was swirling the ruby-red curve of his length ‘round and ‘round your mushy insides so good. Slippery orifice at the very middle of his mushroomy tip leaving heated French snogs all over those magical spots, “Are- are you okay, baby–?”

Shit, he’s bowing his muscular back the perfect curvature off of your drenched bedsheets. Sweat-glazed abs crushing up into your front, he scrunches his nose and keens.

“No- No.” There’s a zip! of power - of Toji’s power - and the bed cracks even further, as if he wasn’t even in control of it. “Gooood I love you, doll- love her.”

“Wh-what-” You’re following his lecherous gaze back down to your filthy cunt, where he was salivating at the sultry sight of your puffy pussy lips struggling to accommodate him. All weepy and messy. Messy with him.

Your tummy turns with just how full you were of his milky sap, yet you wanted more. Veins bubbling at the glutinous swash of his wiry strings of seed coating your innermost walls. 

Overstuffed to your tight brim with every girthy inch of his cock, a cute dimple embeds its way into the side of Toji’s cheek when he sees one of his puffy veins rub your slick hole just the way you liked. Snickering out - airy, breathless. Nonsensically. “I’m not p-pussydrunk- she is. Got me- got me goin’ crazy.”

There’s a solid twitch of Toji’s sobbing fat head at the very bottom of your pussy, and it’s all you can do to not scream. Close. 

Rutting your hips in a semi-bounce, it marks all down the striking flesh of your thighs with Toji’s prominent hipbones. It marks the door to your womb with him- 

“Cum f’me then, Toji—” You’re whimpering, watching the way his eyes widen a simple fraction. “A-all up inside- want it. Want is so ngh- bad.”

“G-greedy girl.” He grunts, oh-so-smug.

The very last thing before Toji feels like he’s in fucking heaven. Before he thinks that you might just be an angel watching over him - shuddering right over him while he pumps you so very full of copious volumes of cum.

It’s filthy. It’s overspilling. 

And he doesn’t even know how he’s still cumming, but right now Toji doesn’t think he can stop.

Toes curling with stimulation, towering body trembling underneath your very touch. He was sensitive. And he was rutting his hips up in an eager one-two to push the ivory wads of cum deeper inside of you-

“S-so full.” You’re biting your lip- only for a split-second before Toji’s straying up a thick thumb and pulling it out from between your teeth.

You feel your core heat up as soon as he takes over nipping on your lower lip like his favorite candy. And with one hand he’s stroking the drooling ends of your cunt, lapping up his saturated seed; with the other he’s patting that tummy bulge of yours. “T-told you I’ll get ya ngh- pregnant.”

“Toji…” You’re crooning, and that low tone of yours is enough to make his breath hitch. Your hips come down in an arched drag all down his toned abs, grinding your neglected clit. Hard. “One more?”

Toji’s voice cracks, “P-please.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “J-just the…”

Now, Nanami meant to feed your cute, weepy orifice with just his fattened tip - he meant to give his pretty lil’ wife only a taste before he had to rush off to work this morning. 

Half-dressed up in that formal suit you loved so much, heated body firm against your adorably arched back. At least…that’s what he meant to do.

But with only a singular proud inch sunken inside you, your husband finds himself gasping. Heaving. “Just the tip” be damned. 

“M-my darling—” What’s this? Nanami Kento never stutters. He never sounds so…fucked-out already.

Your hips rut backwards and make him break out in a boiling hot sweat, “Are you okay–?”

One warm hand clamors down to the curve of your waist where you were pressed side-by-side, sensually dragging up that flimsy silk nightgown of yours. The other immediately rovering to his hefty base and squeezing as if to hold himself back.

“Fuck- fuck! Yes, dear, I-I’m okay, just…” He’s pushing his condensed glasses up, drawling with a throaty tinge of madness in his words. Batting and batting those long tawny lashes, but his vision was still tinged with such hot arousal. “Do you have hah- anythin’ you want to say to say t’me, hm?”

You’re craning your glassy eyes over your shoulder with a quirked brow, thighs falling further open at his scorching hot nudge. Yearning for more more more. “What do you mean, Ken?”

And oh- shit. 

Your voice saying his first name like that is enough to make Nanami’s powerful hips rut in a way he didn’t even mean to. Enough to make him bite down fervently on his stern lower lip and suck in a deep inhale once his plumpened crownhead jolts–

“Y-your pretty pussy, my love.” He’s gasping out in a cloudy pant of heat and haze against the back of your neck. So earnestly filthy when complimenting your cunt that it makes you squirm, “Feels s-so…so heavenly. Wet. Even more than usual.”

Fuck. 

And then it hits you.

“Maybe- hck!” It was so difficult to speak when your dear Nanami was just bursting with nervous lust, his muscular thighs shivering up against the backs of your own. Ready to pounce. Read to break you. Your whine trills with anticipation, “Maybe it’s because m’ovulating, Kento. I haaaah- heard that can affect ah!”

“Shit, how could I have forgotten?” 

And right now you don’t know whether he’s muttering huskily to you or to himself. Every spilling syllable making his abdomen angle subconsciously deeper and deeper. A rapid little push back and forth to fit past your taut ring of soft muscle, “M-my calendar said it’s your ngh- ovulation week, darlin’. That’s why she’s so…sloppy. That’s why she’s making me so…”

Pussydrunk. Nanami’s voice trails away behind you like he couldn’t even bear to finish the sentence - because he’s never been like this. So out-of-control.

Indeed, you’re pouring out such tangled knots of slick that it was making the base of Nanami’s curvaceous balls flood. Slathering out a thick coating of sap all over his fat digits and then some. 

“But look at you- ohhh look at you—” Breathless worship strikes you once he’s lurching up his hand to admire the glossy glaze you’d topped all down his golden wedding ring. Awe-struck. Plopping them into his mouth with a soggy fwop! “C-can’t believe you’re mine. Ohh can’t believe you’re mine.” And before you know it, Nanami spanks the end of his palm down your pussymound. Hard. “M’s-sorry, my love.”

What was he even apologizing for? 

Just as soon as you’re left wondering - you’re given your answer. 

In a single, jagged buck that makes your toes curl with bliss, the staggering stretch of Nanami’s size dabs open every nook n’ cranny inside of you. As if he was well and fully intent on splitting you apart. 

He didn’t even have to try to mush the zig-zag of his veiny underside down your sweetest spots, buttery orifice topping with such heaps of sweltering hot slick dripping off of your cervix. Your tummy weighs down with the viscous plap! of his sugarcoating pre.

“Bite- bite down if m’too rough, my wife.” You’re blinking back your bleary vision to take in the sight of his smooth, tannish forearm presented in front of you. All strong and sexily flexing, it simply makes your mouth water. “Because s’about to get…bumpy.”

Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to work today.

Not when he had you like this - your mouth spilling out so many ounces of drunken saliva, your gummy walls molding and taking him in so easily. 

“Atta giiiirl— take it. Jus’ the- just the-” He’s cutting himself off with every lightning bolted vein pushing past your teary entrance, letting off a gasp! just as soon as he takes a glance down to find himself all bottomed-out. Way past the tip, still pushing and pushing and pushing- “Oh, s-sorry. Can’t control it ngh! Sorry sorry sorry can’t-” 

“Fuck! S-so good, Kento–” You’re whimpering, flinching at the wet texture of his tongue stealing a looong lick up your throat. 

The sharpened edges of his canines - ones he normally oh-so-carefully kept away from damaging your pretty skin - nip down your sprinting pulse. Mouth watering at the throbbing ba-dump! he could feel. Nanami’s voice comes out tight, restrained still. “But- but m’being so…pussydrunk.”

Truly, in every sense of the word. 

The only thing on Nanami’s mind being to pound his bloated length into you so vulgarly rough that his toned obliques were aching. To prick the target of your g-spot each n’ every time with his swirling crownhead, leaving wet spatters of precum for you to remember him by. 

And you don’t know if he could even hear you right now, you don’t know if he could even breathe. And yet, you find yourself babbling away anyways, “But- But I like it rough, Ken.”

Fuck.

Nanami’s mouth parts open with a breathless little, “Fuck.” And you swear you’re hearing his rich bass break into a zillion pieces at the end. 

His once-sloppily needy turning into something even ruder, wringing out a pitch ah! ah! ah! out of you with every thrust. He’s trotting down a free palm underneath your slick-lacquered inner thighs and smearing you open shamefully. 

“Sh-shit- in so deep.” You’re whinging euphorically, fingers itching to grab the expensive fabric of his tie trawling up and down your back. “M-maybe I should get you hck! pussydrunk more often, hm?”

Oh, how he agreed. 

But Nanami wasn’t done. Far from it - two fingers wrenching your tear-streaked face to meet his deep molten gaze, hips searing hot. “Mhm— Now look into my eyes when I fuck you stupid, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - IT GIRL!

“Fuck-” Geto’s cutting himself off with a strangled gasp! when you let your fingers thread through his long, inky locks. Crescents of your nails caressing his sweat-drenched scalp and making him keen. Pulling. He stares around at the cult members encircling you two, “-y-you.”

“S’what you’re hngh! doing, Sugu—” You’re giggling out, biting your lip - though, not for long. Choking on a pitiful squeal once he thumbs away your entrapped maw and bites. 

A punishment. 

A punishment was what this was supposed to be - to embarrass your adorable self for messing up that last mission. 

But fuck- right about now, it was Geto who was so thoroughly impacted by the way you were straddling his slender hips just so. Your vulgar tempo drives his eyes skittering all the way to the back of his lids. 

Shit, he should’ve never let you ride him.

“S’this- s’this all ya got?” Geto grits his pearly whites, stare darting away from your tempting tits before he loses it. His meaty thighs fold up behind you n’ inch you down towards him. Because, hell, he didn’t think he could even raise his delirious head at the moment. 

Tone raising, “See that? Tch, shoulda- shoulda had this be your task instead. S’where you belong, slutty lil’ thing.”

Oh, and you already knew he didn’t mean a word that spilled out of his ravenous mouth. Already knew that Geto probably didn’t even know what he was babbling. 

“Mhm— yes, leader.”

Panting at what a tease you are.

Parched tongue soothing over the bruise surely to blossom on your pretty lips. And Geto’s next words are low, dangerous - you swear his hazy amethyst eyes flash with something that told you you were fucked. “Gettin’ reeeeal mouthy, gorgeous.”

One spank sings out a sharp thwack! from your puffed-up pussylips, and then two more ring from where Geto’s toying the curved ends of his slender digits over your clit. Ruthless. Greedy gaze narrowing while his other hand rakes looong lines down your hips. “Too mouthy.” 

You’re whimpering at the sheer unadulterated stimulation - the way that he was fucking up into you so mean. Cutting off each of your stuttered bounces with a striking rut of his own. With a solid smooch! into where your tender g-spots were aching.

He was fucking you stupid.

The air sings with his dragged-out whistle, “Cockdrunken a-already, huh?”

Those last words aren’t meant for you - and your spine stiffens at the murmurs and agreements echoing from your little audience. 

Ah, might as well give them a show. 

Just then you’re tugging even harder on Geto’s silky hair and he whimpers- Stomach twisting, you barely manage to get out, “Who’s pussydrunken?” 

“Shit- you little–” He’s gurgling through a glistening line of drool that homes itself near the watery edges of his lips. Fighting and fighting to keep his head from lolling languidly backwards- why wasn’t his melty mind cooperating with him at all? “You- o-ohhhh, you are going to pay for this.”

God, you can’t help the way that little threat only leaves you wetter. 

Splotching out oodles of saccharinely syrupy slick that helps you slip n’ slide your throbbing clit all over the front of Geto’s washboard abs. Heavenly. Every laddered drag down his rippling muscles was delicious - you don’t know who enjoyed the lecherous act more, you or him. 

“What was that?”

Dewy eyes lock onto yours - heated. “Fuh-fuck you.” Rutting up harder and harder, your pace-ridden body stings after each pound. His hands on you grow painful - bruising - pushing your head down with a clawed hand on your scalp. “Fuck you fuck- fuck–”

And Geto’s long lashes glisten in the dim lighting as he bats away a bulbous sheen of tears, taking his sweet sweet time to even register what you were talking about.

In the distance you think you hear someone gasp. The big, bad leader of the Time Vessel Association brought to tears? Brought to utter speechlessness?

You’re snickering down at your leader before you know it. Clingy walls molding around his cylindrical length like a hot adhesive in a way that made him blush, “S’this your fuck! first time bein’ pussydrunk?”

Thighs shaking, “I-I’m not–”

“Well, can you even hah- remember my name, Sugu–?”

“Bitch.” He spits out.

He was completely and utterly under your thumb for the very first time and he didn’t know how to handle it. Doing everything and anything. Losing face in front of his followers — fast. 

And you could feel yourself getting closer and closer at just how pretty Geto Suguru was under the mercy of your sultry touch. Shivering bodily wherever your sensory fingertips drifted, gasping through bouts of driveling slobber whenever your engulfing pussy squeezed too tight. 

Geto’s latching both trembly hands of his on the slamming mounds of your flesh and pinning you down. Holding you so-very-still. 

You can practically hear the danger-impeding growl in the words snarled against your ear. “Who’s pussydrunk now?” He’s sinking the sharp fringes of his canines into your sensitive lobe once you start gyrating your hips impatiently. Barely shifting an inch, “Yeah? Yeahhh wan’ me to m-move, huh?”

“That’s- that’s unfair.” You’re huffing and puffing above him, your hardened nipples catching onto the curves of his pecs sinfully. So close. 

“Oh yeah? S’it unfair?” Towards the rest of the cult- and of course, they follow their leader. Of course, they’re agreeing with whatever Geto’s drawling out drunkenly. Spitting into your half-open mouth, “They don’t think so.”

And oh, that lustful cloud taking over his gaze told you that it wasn’t over. 

The way that Geto was turned on enough to drool with every swab into your geysering insides told you enough- 

With another loud swat planted on where your heated pussymound was waterfalling out sploshing heaps of slick, he thumbs the perky outers of your clit. “Cum f’me then. Make yourself ah- cum and I might jus’ forgive you for c-calling me tch- pussydrunk.”

You were already so close- already teetering on the edge that only another vulgar swerve of his fattened cock massaging your insides is all it takes.

You might have been just as far gone as he was. Head throwing back, a strangled whine of Sugu– escaping you, capped knees plopping you down even harder to ride out your white-hot high. 

And Geto was letting you.

Oh, fuck any stupid punishment - he was letting you trawl out every blissful pinpoint of your high on him. Using him. Mouth falling open in a gasp once you don’t just cum - you’re squirting, a crashing wave of sweetened sap spraying out of you like a fountain.

Shit.

Shit shit shit- he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Doesn’t even know what he’s thinking other than slapping down an open palm to scoop up every waterlogged gush pouring out of you.

Popping it into his mouth- “I-I said cum- not squirt, gorgeous.” Geto whines - whines - out, mouth smeared with a twisted, dopey grin that made him look so ruined. In the blink of your bleary eyes, he’s captured one of your hands to curl around his clammy throat, begging you to squeeze. Addicted. “Let’s s-see if we can get it right this time.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Raw, next question.

“C-can I really…?” Choso breathes out like a prayer, not even having put it in yet but oh-so-ruined already. Licking his cerise lips when he curls a few thin fingers around his hefty base and draaaags a long line down your teary slit, “S’it- s’it really okay f’me to go in raw this time, baby?”

And he was opening up your slobbery cunt so tenderly, prying your puffy folds apart to give your flooded entrance an admiring look. 

How ready and drooling you were - for him. All for him, him, him.

Fuck. It’s enough to make him blush maidenly pink and dart his honeypool eyes back up to your fluttering eyes. Attempting and failing to stop the animalistic twitch of his greedy crownhead-

“Mhm–” You’re drawling out, a few fingers tangling with his soft mahogany hair and making Choso moan. You swear you’re feeling the curvaceous edge of his mushroom tip spurt out a steamy jetstream of webbed pre, “Put it in, Cho. Wanna feel you deep inside, m’kay?”

He’s nodding away deliriously while you speak, nodding away even after. Head bobbling on its own like he was listening to the saturated slurps! being let off by your cunt the moment he’s sinking past.

“Gonna put it in, okay? Gonna put it- o-oh.” Choso ruts his ballooned-up cockhead in through your slippery hole, brushing the sensitive orifice in his middle right up against your gummy walls. All it takes for his half-lidded eyes to go pure white, “Baby. Baby…”

Trailing those words away into nothingness, you’re rendered equally as speechless when Choso wrenched his hips back as if in a daze. Disbelieving. Only to pump you full and fuller again, and again. 

And again and again and-

You’re brushing away a few strands of hair plastered onto his sweat-shimmering forehead, “Are you okay, Cho?”

“N-no-” Gasping out in short, condensed breaths that fan over your face in hot waves. Everything about your dear boyfriend was burning up right now; his skin, his words, his cadence. Pushing and pushing- “Why?”

Quirking a brow, it’s all you can do to not show off the tremor in your tone from the way he glides his sobbing tip down, down, down your cervix. “Wh-what do you mean, Cho?”

“Why?” Fuck- there it is again. Whispered out like an accusation over and over while he’s rovering two hands underneath your jittery thighs to fold you like a lawnchair into a lecherous mating press. With a peck to your lips, he moans, “Wh-why didn’t you tell me it could feel so ngh! good, baby– ohhh, baby, m’goin’ fucking crazy over here.”

And he was fucking you like it, too.

Usually Choso Kamo was smooth, suave where he wanted to be n’ letting you use him however you wanted with the cutest blush breezing all over his face. 

And he was blushing right now, alright. Only it was with sheerly raw frustration at the fact that his sobbing length was hitting the goopy bottom of your pussy and he couldn’t go any deeper. Like he couldn’t stop, hips out of control.

Handsome jaw clenching, he hikes up a powerful thigh and bends.

“F-fuuuuck–” You’re squealing at the searing stretch of his strengthened limbs manhandling you easily, bending you like some glorified ragdoll to every want and whim. “Baby-”

And just that little nickname is enough to make Choso shudder, all the way from the tips of his curled toes to this wobbly lower lip. Suddenly striking your gushing g-spot with so much rugged intensity that it makes your veins bubble n’ boil. 

“Baby.” He’s echoing out, a spit-slicked smile spreading all over his face. And there’s something in his gentle, fawny eyes that makes Choso look…feral. “Baby baby baby- fuuuuck, m’gonna give ya a baby.”

Your mouth drops into a neat oh of shock - so that’s what it was. 

He was pussydrunk. Utterly and completely pussydrunk, and only with a handful of vulgar strokes inside of your dripping cunt. 

The very thought is just enough to stimulate big, fat tears into welling up behind his eyes. And they’re smudging a Stygian few lines of eyeliner down Choso’s high cheekbones, blubbering. “S’that- s’that okay, baby?” Moaning when a few salty beads rover down to your tummy, he smears the mess to make it even messier. “Gonna have you m-milk me.”

“Maybe you should ask me when you’re not ngh- pussydrunk, Cho–” You’re managing out a barely-lucid giggle that only makes him huff adorably.

“Pussydrunk?”

“Mhm–”

“So that’s what it is. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but…this-” He’s angling his hips to perk up a rounded bulge at your tummy, and with a gasp you’re realizing that it’s where he was fucking into you. A lecherous, cylindrical outline that made your thighs tighten over Choso’s sculpted shoulders. Brushing a fat thumb over it, “I’m doin’ this right- hck- I’m reaching the very end of your p-pretty pussy.”

You’re halfway crying when his mean thumb taps over the rotund hill and pushes down. “Wanna make this bump e-even ngh- bigger, baby– Look so pretty all rooound n’ glowing.” You were so weak to the way he’s batting his long lashes, “Lookin’ like ya want me ta get you p-pregnant.”

He’s so shy about it - flushing the sweetest shade of red. But the way that only makes Choso buck even wilder into you was anything but. 

And you’re blaming that for the way your mouth opens with a pathetically pitched, “Yes. Yes please-” Throwing your arms amorously around his flexing shoulders, you could count every flex and shift of his back muscles. “-cum inside me, baby.”

And he does.

Your words were enough - more than enough. 

With only a few more deeply probing strikes to your sponged cervix, you’re feeling your poor cunt overspill with torrents of warm cum. 

Maybe along the way you’re cumming, too. But all you can feel are the thickened wads of him sliiiiding all down your leaky lips. Ribbons upon ribbons glistening down the stretched-out ends of your pussy and forming a creamy ring covering his base. 

Choso can only stare half-lidded at the utter mess his twitching cock was making. He almost feels a pang of disappointment at the ounces going to waste. 

“Hah?” Choso’s breath comes out panted and hollowed, burning hot against your face once his hips start slamming even harder into yours. Without even realizing. A lazy smile cracks his parted lips as if he couldn’t believe it, as if he was just discovering fucking you all full. “Hah- oh, baby- you’re gonna get me pregnant now. Gonna get me- shit. Might just.”

He looked so genuinely serious. Pussydrunk enough that it made sense to him. 

Splaying out your legs just a bit wider, he’s hastily latching a hand downwards. Pumping the excess of his long cock, the air between your legs just humming with cursed energy- is he…

“Choso-” You’re yelping at the pressure of cursed energy and your own high, eyeing the way that your boyfriend’s sexy face tattoo was ever-growing. “-are you using your power-”

“Yes-” He gasps, not a shred of shame. “Yes yes yes yes.” 

Not a shred of regret for the way he’s manipulating the blood in his body to go back down to his pulsing cock. To make himself stiffen up even harder and harder once more- 

One look at Choso told you he was gone. His first time going in raw and he’ll never be the same again.

Drooling, smiling. Eyes growing darker when his veiny cock pulls your rubbery walls tautly again, rock-hard. “Gotta make sure it takes, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BOAF?!

Sukuna was filthy.

Sukuna was mean.

And Sukuna was veering right towards insanity once feels your trembly fingers eagerly twitching towards his second neglected cock. Wrapping your digits around his massively fat girth and pinpointing your clit with his crowned tip.

“What’cha think yer doing there, ma?” He’s leering down at you, snickering at the adorable way you huff and puff when his heavy, throbbing shaft makes your wrist ache. 

You pout in a stupidly pathetic way that makes the pulsing length inside of you twitch. Sukuna’s monstrous mouth on his stomach lapping up the stray rivulets of syrupy slick sprinkling from your cunt, “Just- just want both, Kuna.”

“Both?” He’s rumbling- in disbelief. In shock. How could one human be so…greedy? Parched tone lilting higher in both volume and pitch. “Barely handlin’ one n’ you want both?”

Oh, and when you can only nod and nod- Sukuna finds himself growling in desperation. No, it was something different, something more out-of-control. Hit with a sudden bout of something dizzyingly carnal inside of him-

He’s swatting down the fat pads of his fingertips on your teary pussymound, elongated nails hovering darkly above where you were the most tender n’ needy. 

And the king of curses finds himself biting his lower lip to hold back a moan when your pussy only gets wetter. “Show me then- prove it t’me how much you wan’ it, brat.”

“S-so badly.” With a cry of desperation, your fingers slither down to push apart your puffy pussylips. 

“Wider.”

“Ngh-” And it’s almost embarrassing just how intensely your lover looks at you, the way his cursed mouth licks its lips. “Want you both inside me.”

He’s…feral. 

Sukuna swirls a long finger of his own around your elastic wall, the edges of both mouths curling into a smirk at just how pliable you are. 

How he loved you. Loved this cunt. Couldn’t think of anything but that.

“Naughty fuckin’ thing.” He spits out, bubblegum pink brows furrowing. But- really, who the hell was Ryomen Sukuna against you? Especially when he himself feels so…fucked-out. Crimson eyes shuttering half-lidded, his grin turns handsomely lop-sided. “Take it then- take it already.”

He was making you feel so full. 

Both twin cocks so incredibly fat that your rubbery hole was being stretched to limits you didn’t even know were possible. And Sukuna takes every opportunity to make you gasp, to slip inside another thorough expanse of his veiny cock and leave your toes curling.

And that wasn’t all. 

Oh, that wasn’t all. The sheerly raw texture of both lengths bustling inside you was enough to make your slit pour out a quick few torrents of slick. As if you were squirting.

“Hoooly shit, mama.” He huffs out through sharply flared nostrils, looking just about as gone as you once your gooey pussy is making way for him to feed in a few pounding inches. “There we go- move that damn hand.”

Sukuna’s rudely swatting away the fingers still toying with your spraying cunt before you can even think about it. “Fuck. What are ya doin’ t’me?” 

“Are you…” You’re blinking with the last few dredges of your rationality. “-are you pussydrunk, Kuna?”

“No.” Splitting your cervix with the jagged streaks of his sap, it drips down to the very front of your pussy with a sharp thud! thud! thud! “Yes- no. Maybe. Sh-shut up, human.”

He was impatient. He was feral. Bouncing up a sculptured thigh to keep your hips gravitating down deeper n’ deeper down his vicious shafts, every pap! of his capped knee striking the globes of your ass leave you whining. Back arching-

“No no no no, don’t run out on me just yet.” Sukuna hisses, voice as commanding as usual. Yet, underneath that was a current of something…panicked that even your cottony mind could make out. Animalistic. “Don’t run. Need it- I need you, mama.” Latching two massive hands on either side of your waist, and then a third on your scalp to push you down. “Wan’ed both- so take it.”

Rough. 

“K-Kuna—!” You’re mewling, grappling heedlessly onto the broad mountains of his deltoids and making them flex. Mind growing hazier and hazier by the second.

He snickers, “Who’s the drunk one now? Me or you?”

“Don’t- I don’t kn-”

“I- said-” He’s drilling in thorough thrusts that drive those words to your very core. “Who’s- pussydrunk- now?”

And you didn’t even know what you were saying. You didn’t even know the words before they’re tumbling out. “Me– m-me.” 

“That’s right- allll cockdrunk f’me.” But god, your pretty noises were enough to make all two of his mouths bubble out thin lines of saliva. Drooling. “F-fuckin’ needy pussy.” Did you just make the king of curses stutter? Before you can even register the impossible feat, he plows on. “Has me hypnotized- fuck, m’so ruined for ‘er.”

Shit, he was finally admitting it - to himself, at least. You had him pussydrunk.

You had his heart racing with a fervent ba-dump! right in time with the thrashes he was planting on the bullseye of your g-spot. One. And then two split-ended tips driveling all over your bruised walls. 

And it’s like he was almost angry at you for exposing his only ever weakness - you, and your cute cunt 

Perking up a fourth hand underneath your thighs in just the right angle for the saccharine dewdrops of your slick to spill right down to his twin mouth. 

“Want that?” Sukuna’s babbling comes out in heated gusts against your ear, both throbbing cocks leaving wet splotches of pre down the most sensitive areas of your inner walls. And it was so heavenly - just when you thought the stimulation couldn’t get any better, his cursed tongue steals a lingering kiss over where your folds were the puffiest. “Wanna make out w’my t-tongue, huh, ma?”

At this point you can only nod, jittering down your slickly glissading body until his mouth was all slathered with your sloppy pussy. Making such nasty slurping noises that had your ears popping.

“Anything- anything you want, brat-” Sukuna leaves innocent pecks down your neck - something he never stoops down to a mushy enough position to do. But right now, it was like he couldn’t stop. Just like he couldn’t stop keeling his hips off of the creaking mattress and up between your fluttering lips.

“A-anything?” You’re unsure whether you heard that correctly. 

Groaning- he nods. And it wasn’t the usual, stern nod Sukuna loved. Right now, you had him on a leash. “Anything, just say the word- fuck. Ya have the king wrapped ‘round your finger, y’know?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - UNSEAL

The strongest’s first time getting his hands on you after being unsealed and he was pussydrunk instantly. 

And right now your dumbstruck mind was wondering whether he would ever let you go, whether he would ever even slow down–

“S-Satoru?” 

Gojo flinches right on top of you as if his entire muscular body was zapped with a thousand bolts of electricity, the mere sound of your honeyed tone enough to make him swab at your springy cervix with a strangled whimper. 

“Satoru.” Gasping, you’re letting your hazy peripherals glide over your heady bedroom; that shattered bedside lamp, the way your unbolted furniture was hovering. “C-calm down.”

Only getting sloppier.

“Fuh-fuck!” He’s hissing, silky blindfold dampening with a few overstimulated tears. Octaves higher, tinged with a tremble of madness that made it sound like he was holding back a crazed laugh, “Calm down. Calm down- telling me to- fuck-”

Before you know it you’re being hit with yet another mean strike of his dribbling mushroom tip, targeting your most battered insides with cute speck of pre. And then an even meaner hit of his massive palms slamming down on the stinging flesh of your hips. 

Uncontrollable - the force of it enough to leave you bruised from the inside out. 

Making your weepy entrance stream out enough globules of cum to formulate rings upon creamy rings ‘round his bulky base. Without even trying.

Because Gojo had grown muscular. Even bigger during his stay in the prison realm. 

So strong he was bending you pliantly without even realizing, and it was just making your greedy pussy fountain out in even more aroused waves of slick. 

His body was pressing into you deeply, nudging your clammy face to plaster ever-intensely into the soaked pillow. Smearing your cheek across the treacly puddle of saliva with a push of his massively strong arm, his crownhead jackhammers away viciously. Sloshing about waves of buttery sap inside you, “Don’t- don’t talk to me.”

You’re whimpering at the way his meaty thighs kiss your own and shiver. Fattened balls oh-so-hot and aching at the base of your cunt with every pap, “W-what do you mean, Toru- mmpf!”

Gojo covers his palm over your stupidly ajar maw to catch every rope of pathetic spittle drivelling out of you, the wet splat! all over his mountainous hand making him groan.

“I said- fuck!” Spitting out in warm, marky pants against the tender skin of your throat, sharp canines nip down on your pulse as if to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with. Him. “S-say anythin’ more in that pretty voice again n’ m’gonna g-get you pregnant, sweetheart. Or m’gonna make you get me pregnant. Fuck. Can’t do anythin’ else- can’t even th-think.”

The image makes Gojo himself shudder, visualizing just how pretty you would be all round and glowing. Fuck, he really was pussydrunk.

He’s leaning back ever-so-slightly to get a ravenous eyeful of your sloppy hole, droopy eyes imagining those beaded gumdrops of your slick to be something more like his cum. And for that inflated bulge of his cylindrical outline at your tummy to be something…more. 

It’s enough to make his mouth water, fat wads of saliva sprinkling all down your arched back in a glossy sheen.

“B-but, Toru.” You always did have a smart mouth, huh? Your hips perk backwards, velvety walls squeezing his thick, feverishly hot length until Gojo whines. He whines. “Y-you’re gonna break-”

Smiling something all dopey and drunken, “Break you?”

“Break- break everything.” You’re trilling out, and- shit, you didn’t forget who you were dealing with, right?

Because the very last syllables of your sentence have barely tumbled from between your lips before your skin prickles - and you’re feeling the icy air around you stagnate with so many countless atoms. 

You’re feeling the scorching heat of his body pull away with a pained grunt, head lolling upwards to and fro - from the hovering tables, the split bedframe, the bulbs that were disintegrated - as if he’d just realized how completely out of control his powers were. How he was.

“Oh.” Gojo’s drawling out with a carnal husk in his tone, doughy ends of his two of his long fingers coming up to snap!

“Ah!” You’re yelping- you’re heaving in deep breaths of air because in simple nanoseconds, Gojo Satoru had both your furniture and you cluttering downwards. 

Your back hits the soaked-through bed with a slight bounce, desperately clawing the crescent edges of your nails into his deltoids for an ounce of balance. Wait, weren’t you just on all fours? 

Did…did he just-

“Mhmmm— sure did teleport us, my girl.” He’s crooning into your ear, and you don’t know if you’d just prattled that out loud or if your boyfriend could read minds. Whether he had even realized he’d teleported you two before you’d pointed it out. You wouldn’t even be surprised right about now; because just one tug of his thick thumb down the edge of his blindfold made your jaw drop.

Made your thighs tighten.

Made your heart race in both fear and anticipation - Gojo looked feral. Gone.

His summer blue eyes wild, bolting with power and bolts of lightning. Predatory leer painted permanently all over his prettily flushed features, and you swear you catch the glint of a thin line of saliva dripping from the pursed corners of his cherry-red lips. 

And he was so sensitive. 

Blindfold fully off and dangling haphazardly around Gojo’s neck, the sensations and wetly clingy texture of your dripping cunt was too much. He was moaning out sobs, he was bucking in sloppy half-thrusts.

He was shaking as if he couldn’t even control the copious piles and piles of power and strength he’d gained. 

Pouring it all out into dragging his splayed-out palms underneath your thighs sensually, up n’ down. It’s almost relaxing. That is, until he’s throwing them over two broad shoulders and snapping you in half down, down, down-

Allll the way until Gojo’s prespired forehead was smooching yours, mouth half-loosened right above yours. 

Bottoming out his reddened cock once more - the lecherous feeling is so sexy that with a bite to his bottom lip, Gojo’s spurting out a singular fat splatter of soppy cum inside of you once more. Feverish. Messy. 

All the while staring so deeply and heart-eyed into your gaze that it makes you almost shy. You feel so overstuffed - all the way to the very brim - and Gojo was simply insatiable. 

“Ohhhh, j-just look- you- ngh-” He could barely even string together the most basic of sentences, brows crinkling adorably the moment he’s sinking his veiny girth in and out of your tight hole. Every thick thud into your goopy depths making Gojo’s skin flicker with thin shards of blue lightning. “-l-look how you’re gonna make the ngh- prettiest mama, my girl.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - G-g-g-genius

Now Higuruma Hiromi was smart - a genius, even. 

Always driving you raving mad with his sharp mouth and his even sharper strikes into your every magical orifice. He didn’t even have to think about making your cunt weep in so many different ways.

Until now, that is. 

“Wh-wh-what?” Higuruma’s furrowing his brows, a scorching hot blush invading his handsome cheeks at just how pathetically he was stuttering right now. And he was sure his coworker on the other end of the phone could catch that needy tremor in his tone. “Sorry- could you repeat that?”

That sentence wasn’t meant for you - and you knew that. 

But that still doesn’t stop you from digging the curves of your knees even deeper into the plush mattress, snickering. “Oh? This?” Pushing your hips back until you’re hitting his washboard abs with a stinging pap! “Wan’ me to do it ag- mmpf!”

Desperately, he’s clawing at the very crown of your scalp and pushing your face down into the satiny pillowcase. 

Grunting into the phone through clenched teeth, “That? O-oh, that was my wife-” Shit, it takes every ounce of capable will in Higuruma’s body to stop his hoarse breath from hitching when your clingy walls get slipperier. Wetter. A treacly stream of slick escaping you when he gets…rough. “-she’s just driving me crazy.” 

You’re arching your spine into a delicious curve, your puffy lips squeezing around Higuruma’s veiny cock until he can’t help but buck- 

Mind blanking. Until he can’t help but give your head another harsh push, seething. “In the best way.”

Higuruma can feel a nervous sprinkle of perspiration trekking from his temple, all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple. You really were driving him crazy, and he can’t stop himself- he can’t even slow down the aching swabs he’s planting at your innermost depths. 

Honestly, he should’ve expected this - taking a work call during his precious time with his wife? You were bound to toy with your husband. He just didn’t expect to be so…affected. 

Thwack!

“Shit.” Higuruma’s hissing underneath his heady breath, a cloud of sweltering hot air hitting your bowed back when he realizes that his yearning body had just pounded into you the way he wanted. So badly. Heavy balls hitting the base of your gumdropping slit and making your mouth spill out in moans, “Be quiet- by quiet f’me, angel.”

In fact, you were doing the very opposite.

Your tummy was tightening in euphoric knots- yielding your hips to wring out such lustrous ribbons of his cobwebbing pre, faster. Sloppier.

“Wh-what? Shit– m’sorry.” Managing to get out all in a rushed murmur to the man on the other end of the line - and even that was a feat with the way you were getting oh-so-greedy. 

You’re gasping into the cottony mouthful of pillows once you feel him trawl a warm hand all down your spine. Well-defined pecs rumbling with the words, “My wife s’needing some help- I’ll talk to ya at work, Nanami.” 

It made his mouth water to see just how much you were aching and hot for him. He was so close that his plump breeder balls were just aching for sweet, sweet release. 

And as soon as the phone is out of his grasp, Higuruma’s planting peck after open-mouthed peck down the middle. Making you yelp at the scratchy texture of his pinkish tastebuds taking a looong lick.

“S’a fuckin’ i-important call, sugar–” Higuruma punctures his words with thorough, pressurized thrusts that drive his sticky crownhead all the way into the very bottom of your pussy. The spanks! of his flesh on yours so loud now that it makes your ears pop. “How dare you. Don’t even know how you- fuck! Whaddaya even do t’me.”

It’s only when you’re feeling the weighty splat! of something wet that you’re reeling your head up from its cozy haven. Your husband’s lips curling into a sheepish smile, all half-lidded and pretty. 

“Awww, my poor Hiromi–” You’re cooing, swiping away the responsible rivulets of drool that was spraying all over you. That tender touch for his fatly swollen ruby tip to flinch angrily, “Feelin’ all pussydrunk, my baby?”

“M-m’not–” he’s groaning. Dark lashes fluttering, flicking his puffy lids with a seam of glistening tears. He was. “I’m just…”

Out of control? Feral? Breaking at the seams?

Whichever it was, the very thought of being hostage to just how good your pretty pussy felt was making Higuruma’s heart race. Jaw dropping, head falling slack- “I just…just wanna be ngh- yours.” 

Before you can even open your mouth to tease him, he’s fucking you silent. Rendering you dumbstruck only numerous repeated collisions of his rounded crownhead into where your bundle of nerves were the most sensitive. Once. Twice. Thrice. Over and over-

“M’gonna put a r-ring on it, angel.” He’s practically collapsing on top of you now. Washboard abs melting into your back, dark happy trail leaving the curve of your ass tender. “Gotta be your husband.”

You’re yelping, “Husband?”

“Mhm—-” Oh, he was serious. He couldn’t even see the golden glint of your matching wedding rings - couldn’t see past the furious ache of his cock buried deeply within you. How he wanted more. “Always- always always. Gonna be your househusband if you want- your- your anything. Jus’ wanna be yours.”

You’ve never encountered your oh-so-smart husband babbling away nonsense like this. And the stark difference is enough to make your hot core twinge. “Hiromi—”

He flinches, voice husky. “Y-yes, sugar?”

Shit- you were so close. And the way that his bawling divot streaks out long swipes down your cervix once you motion him closer is so delicious. You could feel your hole quivering for release. 

Higuruma’s hand is warm against yours, as if his entire body was burning from the inside out. His hips stutter, dewy eyes widening when you reach over to intertwine your left hand with his. 

“See?” Your gorgeous smile makes him whimper, metallic bands clinking! together. And Higuruma has to take one look. Two, not quite believing his hazy vision. “We’re a-already married.”

Oh.

Oh.

Higuruma can’t stop the way that’s enough to make him cum - just hearing those pretty words from your very lips. And he thinks it’s the hardest orgasm of his entire life, your own hitting you tenfold. 

“My wife. My wife.” He grunts at the clingy grip of your rubbery walls, so fucking tight that he has to latch onto your waist and put a foot on top of your head to fuck you through each of your highs. Blissfully. “M’f-fucking my wife. My wife.”

And now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

You’re being so cutely vocal through every white-hot flare of bliss, the bolts of it zipping through your body at the same break-neck speed that Higuruma was pounding into you. Hot, buttery waves of cum being swashed around you. 

“Ohhh, how- how did I ever get so ngh- lucky.” Sappier than the copious amounts of saccharine seed pouring out of you, it painted his tufts of black in a drenching lamination. Like a medal of honor that your husband was wearing proudly.

Even after your orgasm was bating into a few lecherous tingles, and your vision was back to refocusing. Your body still twitching with the remnants of that overwhelming high. 

He was relentless. 

“Sugar…” Higuruma breathes into the dazed silence, and the warbling tremor in his tone makes you follow his gaze – brows rising as it catches on his phone near the edge of the bed. His glaring phone. 

With the call still ongoing. 

“Shit.”

A/N. MWAHAHA Higuruma’s ending made me giggle.

You can picture the way the elegist holds the pen, etching away and gradually crafting your star-crossed narrative: they’ve scrawled all the words with bloodied ink. Ripped the edges with laughter, left the paper to yellow with age. A Romanticist’s dark fantasy – a traditional ending that belonged in one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, a cruel fate subjected to you, a side character left to eventually rot away beneath the blinking moonlight. 

Unfortunately, you love Caleb. Fortunately, you love Caleb. You love him because he’s Caleb. You hate him because he’s Caleb. You love him the way Sydney Carton loved Lucie Manette, when he clawed out his own pulsating heart from his dying ribs and willingly served it to her on a silver platter. All without asking for a single thing in return, because she saved him from a life of disgrace. He was already withering, and she rekindled him from ashes into a blazing heap of fire, and that salvation was more than enough to grant her his beautiful devotion.

You think that if Caleb asked for your heart, you’d plate it within seconds – savoring whatever he chose to grow in its place. You’d let him plant asiatic apples – his favorite – inside your ribcage, and let him caramelize them and feed them to you without a second thought. If you struggled to breathe and cough up the bloodied seeds, you think that’s even better. Because it’s Caleb, and you hate him, but worst of all, you love him. And they go hand in hand, your love and hatred, so much so that it hurts. 

MC is a real sweetheart. A pretty thing who brought a noble reason for becoming a UNICORNS Hunter to the Association. You tried so hard to loathe her, you really did, but all your efforts came back futile. Because in reality, why would you hate MC? Because of Caleb? It’s not like she forces him to do anything – he willingly dotes on her. Sometimes she even gets upset because he gets a little too overbearing. Everything Caleb does for her is of his own accord. You are never the first person to be called when things go wrong. Never the first to be worried for. Not the first to be protected the second everything goes awry.

That place has always belonged to her, but Caleb granted her that place of his own free will. MC had never meant any malice towards you, because it was hardly her fault that Caleb chose her. Any hint of animosity was all but a carefully constructed illusion in your own head, because there was none. She had been nothing but kind to you. A real sweetheart.

The necklace around Caleb’s throat is proof of her place; a thin chain, dull silver, worn over by years of being grasped at without a second thought. The crystallized red apple and those dog tags that glint under the sunlight: a constant, unintentional reminder of her ownership and everything that you’re not. You’ve watched him reach for it whenever he’s anxious, fingers curled around it when orders from the Fleet are too heavy, and when his fear slips through the cracks of his carefully crafted composure.

Maybe that’s something you can hate her for, because that necklace serves as a painful admonition and a physical manifestation of all your hurt. You were there before that necklace. That damned necklace. Before any ranks. Before MC became your partner in the Association, another mocking reminder of where you stood within your twisted narrative. Before all your obligations grew teeth and knew how to bite, and sooner or later would swallow you whole.

You remember it now. The memory comes to you, unbidden and sharp and warm all at once, a wilted daffodil resting within the depths of your thoughts that refuses to leave.

It was summer that day, late summer. You remember the season because the apples were in full bloom and Caleb had been counting the days down until he could harvest the fruits that one of Josephine’s trees bore. He promised you that he’d make apple pie just like how she makes it, and you just giggled and told him not to set the fire alarm off again. He said that he never recalled doing such a thing.

The sky was blue, and the apples were a perfect shade of red, and you wished they would respectively stay blue and red forever. For those colors to never darken or fade, and hoping that one day, they would merge and settle under Caleb’s eyes. An almost impossible shade of ultraviolet that you constantly yearned for. 

MC wasn’t there. You don’t remember why, and frankly, you don’t care. All that mattered, for once, was that day belonged entirely to you. Out of all the afternoons that you spent as a trio, it had only been the two of you that day. Yes, this was a summer memory that was only yours and his to keep, for you to fondly keep in a locket deep within your ribcage for all eternity. 

That day, you were younger – too young to know how things would end – and sitting cross-legged on the dewy grass of his backyard, the blades damp against your palms. Caleb sits across from you, knees pulled up, and sleeves rolled to his elbows, eagerly waiting. The air smelled like sun-warmed leaves and fruits, like Caleb, and the poets were feeling creative, basking in the cooling wind the summer brought.

You had brought him a gift, you said, and he watched you with an expectant shade of curiosity as you reached into your pocket and pulled out two thin lengths of braided cord, a perfect mix of ivory and crimson. The bracelets were uneven, dyed by your shaky hands, and lightly fraying at the ends. You’d made them the night before, fingers clumsy and hands shaking as you followed the step-by-step tutorial playing on your phone. “Oh? What do you have for me here?”

“They’re matching bracelets. One for you, and one for me,” you mutter sheepishly, like explaining might’ve lessened the embarrassment tinting your cheeks. “I know they’re kind of stupid, but–”

Caleb leans forward at that. “Hey, they’re not stupid.”

You look up at him, surprised. “You promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he grins, and your throat tightens, his words like music to your ears, crescendoing into a harmonious choir the moment that Caleb willingly holds out his wrist for you. The way your heart thumped as your fingers brushed against his skin made you fear that he could hear its erratic beating, and the blood rushing in your eardrums. Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he did, and chose not to say anything. He’s always been able to read you like an open book.

“There, done.” The bracelet rested just beneath the bone of his right wrist, the color vivid against his skin. When you finished, you leaned back to admire your work, pride blooming and heart full with his words, despite yourself. “Now, when you inevitably forget me in five years when you’re suuuper popular and cool at the DAA, you won’t be able to pretend like you didn’t know me.”

He laughs at that, bright and unguarded, and you wish that this day would never end. That Caleb and his bracelet and everything about him would just settle somewhere deep within your chest, finding shelter within the crevices of your ribcage. Or maybe you can find a home within his own body. You didn’t mind either outcome. “I don’t think that’s possible. Besides, you’re already way cooler than me.”

Then, without another word, he reaches for your hand. “Wait–”

Too late. He fumbles with the second bracelet, your matching half, and knots it around your wrist. It sits a little too tight, and you’re certain you’ll get rope burn once you begin to outgrow it, but you could hardly care less. He puts his palm against your own and intertwines your fingers against his, and your mind sings at the contact. “There. Now we’re even.”

You look down at your hand clasped against his own and mutter, “You’re never taking this off.” 

He smiles, saluting you with his free hand, and your eyes soften. You’ve marked each other with these bracelets. His hand is so, so warm, and Caleb is still so beautiful, like how everything should be. “Copy that.”

That day was an anomaly. 

You were matching bracelets with Caleb. Not him and MC. You and Caleb. He’d let you leave a permanent mark on him in a way that MC hadn’t, even though she ended up giving him that necklace years later. The sky shouldn’t have been such a beautiful shade of blue, and the apples shouldn’t have been so red, but they were. Caleb shouldn’t have been so boyishly pretty that day, looking over your visage so beautifully with those violet eyes, but he was. Everything was so perfectly aligned that day that you sometimes wondered if you had just imagined it all, as if he were but a mere phantasm in the breeze. A trick of the light to convince yourself that he was once yours.

Oh, but that moment was as real as it got. MC’s necklace may have come later, but those bracelets were yours first. Caleb was real, and that moment with him had been the one thing that you could call yours. Undeniably, indisputably yours.

But that was before the explosion. 

Like everything that you once could call your own, Caleb kept true to his word and never took the bracelet off, until it had been cruelly ripped from your grasp by the laughing elegist and the hands of fate. The facts were clearly written: Caleb survived the tragedy, Josephine did not. Caleb was now the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and his right arm had been reinforced with a metallic prosthetic. His veins became wires tangled red, green, and blue, and the bracelet was lost with the debris. 

His right arm was no longer yours. A part of Caleb’s heart was no longer yours.

The arm you had fastened the bracelet around could no longer feel. The hand you held that summer afternoon can no longer experience your warmth, now cold with the false promise of permanence. The arm that had worn your mark so easily until it hadn’t, under the blink of an eye. You never said it out loud, because acknowledging the thought felt monstrous, almost sacrilegious, but sometimes, you truly wondered if you cursed him. 

Like the marks you leave on the things you loved most were meant to waste away with time, and eventually vanish.

The sky isn’t blue anymore. It’s a dull shade of grey today, actually. That summer day no longer smells sweet but more like something decaying. The apples are long gone and rotten right to the core, but Caleb’s eyes are still that haunting shade of amethyst and still everything you love. 

Because some things, apparently, endure.

You’re partnered with MC on an Association mission today, but this particular mission has ties with Skyhaven. Skyhaven meant the Farspace Fleet. And of course, the Fleet meant seeing Caleb before the Association sent you to take care of the next bout of wanderers or whatever they were ready to throw at you today. It was rare for Linkon and Skyhaven’s affairs to intertwine, even though they ultimately shared similar end goals. At the end of the day, they were still interconnected pillars that wanted to get rid of wanderers. Hence why you were here.

You feel inside your pocket, making sure the box is intact. The mission briefing ran much longer than it should’ve, and people from the Fleet filed out in pairs and clusters, none of them sparing the members of the Hunters Association a second glance. Boots echo across the floors, and you linger inside the room, looking for the familiar set of violet eyes, a ghost of a smile forming on your face once they meet yours.

Caleb. 

“Hey,” he says, and you know that if you were MC, that greeting would’ve been followed with his endearing nickname for her, ‘pips’. Unfortunately, you weren’t MC, and you weren’t his pipsqueak. What exactly were you to him? You didn’t know. You were just… you. 

Was that enough for him?

“It’s rare seeing you in the Fleet. I wish you weren’t here at all, though. It gets real crazy here sometimes,” He ruffles your hair, and you couldn’t even return the action because of his big, stupid Colonel hat. “D’ya need something before the mission? My good luck charm, maybe?”

“Hmm, I dunno. Is your charm really all that good?” You smile up at him, his pretty eyes gazing into yours, and suddenly, the banter almost makes everything flicker with normalcy. Caleb was here again. You were here with him, and the stars are almost aligning, because the world, inexplicably, hasn’t taken everything from you yet. “I have a gift for you, actually.”

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” He asks as you slowly reach into your pocket, fingers brushing the fabric and metal. It makes you hesitate, like you were sixteen all over again that summer day and were afraid of Caleb’s reaction towards your handmade, woven bracelets. The soft beam on his face this time around made it easier on your nerves, though. “My birthday’s stiiill pretty far away, you know.” 

You exhale slowly, pulling out the box under his watchful gaze. “Something I made,” you murmur, “Again.”

The box opens, and your gift is finally on full display beneath the blinking fluorescent lights of the Fleet. There are two bracelets inside, woven crimson and ivory, just like before. Anyone could still tell that it’s handmade, but the handiwork is neater, and the thread is no longer fraying. You got rid of your matching half after the explosion, vowing to only wear it if Caleb had his part of the pair. The expression on his face is unreadable, and it makes your heart thump with apprehension all over again. 

“I thought–” you continue, staring at the box instead of at him, “that maybe we don’t get to keep things forever, but we can try to, anyway.”

“You made another set, after I lost mine when…” He trails off, and you nod. It’s the closest thing you’ve gotten to talking about the explosion, and Caleb’s jaw tightens. You knew he was no longer sixteen, and you don’t even know if he’s still entirely Caleb, the same one who held your hand that late summer afternoon, but that mark you left on him was still yours. Even as the dog tags beneath his uniform serve as a painful reminder that he will never be truly yours entirely. “Put it on me, again. Just like old times.”

He wordlessly holds out his wrist for you – the left one this time – and he doesn’t miss your painful gaze towards his bionic arm. You fasten it around his left wrist, the only arm that can feel anything anymore, and the mark is seared once again, even though the sky is still gray and the apples are long spoiled.

Despite all that time, Caleb is still beautiful, and that has never changed.

Then, he reaches for you, taking your wrist and gently tying the second bracelet there. If you squint, you could probably still see the marks left behind by the previous one. His fingers brush against your skin in a way that makes your breath hitch, and his tongue is pressed lightly to his teeth, like he’s afraid of making the knot too tight like before. “Do you remember what you said that day? How you predicted that I’d forget you in five years when I’m ‘super popular and cool’ once I was at the DAA?”

You meekly nod as he finishes the knot. It’s a perfect one this time. Not too tight to give you any rope burns, and not too loose that it would fall off. “Well, I think my words still stand. I most certainly never forgot you, you’re still way cooler than me, and definitely way cooler than anyone there.”

With that, his eyes softly whisper against your own. You look at each other – really look at each other this time – and his damned violet eyes catch the light, familiar and unbearable and intoxicating, all at once. You think of all those blue summer skies and Josephine’s red apples and all the ways those colors can merge into something sadder, yet far more alluring. A mixture that rests under Caleb’s eyes.

Your foreheads are nearly touching, and his breath stutters as you take his mechanical hand into your own, caressing the metal that took away your mark and a part of Caleb’s humanity. He pulls you closer with his free hand – the one with your newly made mark – almost like he was luring you in with his Gravity EVOL. But Caleb didn’t need to utilize his EVOL to pull you in; he did it all naturally. Him and his stupid good luck charm.

“You come back to me,” he quietly whispers, his breath hot against your own. If you listened closely enough, you could hear his erratically beating heart. You weren’t Caleb’s pipsqueak, but you could do all of this to him. You had this effect on him. This moment was yours, and you were going to selfishly savor it. Replay this scene until it one day swallows you whole. “You promise.”

For a single moment, the world finally narrows to just the two of you. The Fleet and the Hunter’s Association were just background noise. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes. You could feel the heat of your words just before you speak, just before he leans in and finally closes the gap. “I–”

“Caleb!”

MC’s voice cuts through the tension like a carefully positioned blade, and you immediately step back. Caleb withdraws his hand from the back of your neck like it stung, as if it never belonged there in the first place. The bracelet resting against your wrist feels hot to the touch. You wonder if it feels the same for Caleb, or if he’d eventually take it off sooner or later. MC’s looking at you expectantly, eyes bright and unaware of what just happened. “They’re calling us in. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you declare weakly, breath still stuck in your throat, something you’re unable to swallow. “I’m coming.”

The realization dawns on you faster than anything when MC offers you a big smile. You were right – from the very beginning, you didn’t hate MC. You never did. She’s kind, sweet, and constantly has your back during missions. No, you were angry at her presence. How it was practically impossible to hang out with just Caleb. It was always you, Caleb, and her. How the duo could never stay as a duo, no matter what. How your moments with Caleb can be so easily ripped from your grasp by MC because she was here first. Of course, it was always her first. 

Caleb needs to keep her safe first. To protect her first. She was his priority first. This was the status quo, and you had no say in changing the rules that were already set in stone a long time ago. Still, as you catch a glimpse of Caleb’s wrist before you leave, you make a silent vow to yourself, to the crimson and ivory resting on your own wrist. 

If you cursed Caleb with your first present, you silently pray that this time around, it will curse you instead of him.

The mission turned into a shitshow faster than you had initially anticipated.

You were so outnumbered from the very beginning that you wondered what the hell the Association was thinking when sending you two on this mission. Was this a fucking death trap specifically designed for you and MC? For everyone else dispatched here? There’s so much blood on the floor you could hardly distinguish your own from any wanderer that you had defeated.

Another wanderer goes down, collapsing onto the debris with a sound that rattles your bones and shoots directly to your ringing eardrums. Your sword is immediately knocked away from your hands by the next target, and it falls onto the ground with a deafening clatter. You need backup, and you need it now. You think about who to call – you would have called Xavier, but your Hunter’s watch is long broken, and he’s probably just as preoccupied as you two. 

The entire situation was so pitiful that you could have laughed if it weren’t for how fucked over you both were.

You look towards MC, and your eyes widen as she stumbles, her breath staggering and legs shaking. You’re already moving, just before she hits the ground. “MC!”

“Hey, hey, stay with me–” you scream out, dropping to your knees beside her. You use all your strength and bring the two of you to a nearby tree, praying that all the shrubs and bushes cover you from the wanderer’s sight. She’s breathing, shallow but steady, eyes unfocused as she tries her hardest to meet your gaze. You prop her against the trunk and cup her face, trying to keep her awake. “Please, fuck–”

She’s injured, but she’s alive. Good. That’s good. You just need to keep her alive long enough to get to a safe zone, or until help comes. Something warm spreads beneath your hunter’s uniform when you shift your weight, but you ignore the excruciating agony in your abdomen and focus on MC. A stab wound in your core. You don’t even know where it came from, and the adrenaline had masked the pain until now. Still, you’ve felt worse. Way worse than this. Right now, you just need to keep her alive, because–

Because of Caleb. Because Caleb needs her alive.

“You come back to me,” His words briefly echo in your ears, and it makes your eyes sting with tears. You don’t know if you can. “You promise.”

You’ve never broken any promises when it comes to Caleb, and he’s never broken any, either. But, technically, this time around, you didn’t promise him anything because MC had interrupted you before you could utter any words out. So, you didn’t exactly owe him anything. Your life was second to hers right now.

Sorry, Caleb.

“We need to move,” you say, hauling her arm over your shoulder. This spot was not going to be safe for long, and you didn’t have your sword. If any wanderer spots you, that’d be the end of your narrative. And you can’t have it end yet, not when MC isn’t safe. “Can you stand?”

She groans, teetering between a fine line of consciousness and unconsciousness. “You’re – you’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you say automatically, even though you’re surprised that she noticed the wet blood staining the abdomen of your uniform. MC is a real sweetheart. Always thinking about other people when she’s equally as fucked over as you. That’s why you never truly hated her. How could you have the heart to do so?

She blinks up at you, trying to focus. “No, you’re not. I can see right through you.”

“We don’t have time for this,” you grit your teeth and force yourself upright despite your core screaming out in a horrid bout of pain. You bite your lip so hard that it draws blood, bringing MC up with you and ignoring her protests. You remember during the mission briefing that a safe zone was about… half a mile up north. Every staggering step sends a sharp reminder throughout your body, but you stubbornly don’t slow. “Caleb needs you out.”

MC shakes her head weakly. “What about you?”

You don’t answer, and she continues, a huff of air almost sounding like a laugh. “He loves you, you know.”

Her words make you freeze, and you turn to look at her. “Cares about you… a lot. Don’t just think about me.”

It’s hard not to, you want to say, but the words never leave your tongue. If Caleb had to choose, in a life-or-death situation, whether to save me or you, I think we all know the answer to that a little too well.

You make it to a clearing in the forest, and her grip on you suddenly tightens, enough to make you stop in your tracks, despite yourself. “Stop,” she says, practically pleading, panic creeping into her voice. “You can’t keep going like this.”

“Oh,” she looks down, really takes a second to see your condition, and her expression crumples, muttering out your name in concern. “You’re hurt. You’re really hurt.”

“I said I’m fine,” you repeat, but your voice cracks, and your composure is breaking. 

She tries to pull away from you. “Put me down, this isn’t worth it–”

“No,” you say sharply. “If we wait–”

“You could pass out,” she says, tears welling in her eyes and fingers digging into your sleeve. “You’re not okay, please, you don’t have to do this–”

You don’t say what you’re thinking, but your answer is already written all over your face. You do have to do this, actually. This was never a question. The bracelet on your wrist feels even warmer than before. MC reaches for you, fumbling with her gear with her remaining strength. Her Hunter’s watch and her gun. The watch’s screen was still lit, and her gun had a few rounds inside.

“Here, use my watch. I can’t… hold on for much longer,” her eyes are glazing over, on the brink of passing out, and you place her gun in your holster and the watch around your wrist, trying to keep the both of you upright. “Call for help, but promise that you… think about yourself, too.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and meekly nod, taking her watch. Don’t say I promise to her, because you’re certain that you’ll break it. And you don’t make promises that you can’t keep. “Yeah. Sure.”

She smiles at that and goes limp in your arms. You suck in a breath, eyes flitting all over the screen as you thought about who to call. You try Xavier’s line and give up after a few rings. You just hope that he’s alright. Finally, your finger hovers over Caleb’s line. You know damn well that he’d respond, especially since this was MC’s watch, and not yours. The speaker rings once before the line opens. “Caleb, I need evac. Now.”

“Status.” His voice comes back sharp and controlled, and you realize that this wasn’t Caleb right now, but Colonel Caleb. 

“MC’s down, and–” I took a hit, and I’m bleeding out too. You’re unable to force those words out in between your labored breaths. “–she took a hit from a wanderer, and… I’m trying to take us to the nearby safe zone. I’m five minutes out.”

The world tilts as you haul MC’s weight higher against your shoulder. Your vision blurs at the edges, but you lock your jaw and keep moving. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s a shitshow out here, Caleb. I don’t have my sword, and she took a hit when I wasn’t looking–”

“When you weren’t looking?” His voice cuts through the line, tone hardening. “You’re supposed to cover for her.”

“I was,” you snap, the words tearing out of you like the flesh from your abdomen when the wanderer had stabbed you. “I was there, Caleb, I tried–”

“Then why the hell is she bleeding out?”

This was exactly what you expected. Maybe you shouldn’t have called him at all. His words hit harder than any wound you’ve sustained, and you stagger, barely managing to keep your footing – barely managing to keep MC upright with you. The pain is blooming, sharp and practically blinding, white-hot and so fucking unforgiving, and for a moment, you nearly cry out.

But you don’t. You tighten your grip on her instead.

“Damn it. The safe zone near you – I’m about ten minutes away from it. Can you make it there?”

You can hear it even through the static. The fear in his voice was raw, frantic, and all-consuming. The fear of losing MC eclipses everything else, swallowing whole whatever concern might have been meant for you. If MC was right – and Caleb really did love you – then his love was not enough to overcome the instinct carved into him long before you ever even entered his life.

Because she was here first. And you were not. And that’s just the way things were.

The thought makes something hysterical bubble in your chest. You laugh, or at least try to, but it breaks apart into an ugly cough, and more crimson stains your uniform.

“Yeah,” you manage out. “I think.”

You don’t know how you conjured up the strength to make it to the evac zone, but you do. The world narrows after your call began with Caleb, and the lights blur together into a pale white smear. Her weight grows heavier in your arms as she stirs, like she knew something was wrong with your staggering footsteps.

“You come back to me,”

“Promise that you… think about yourself, too.”

I’m sorry. To both of you.

Everyone finally notices you and MC, and your senses finally dull as your fingers slip from MC’s sleeve, letting someone else take her. Throughout all the clamor, someone begins assisting you, but you can’t feel anything. Trembling, your hand falls against your wrist, and the bracelet is still there. You think of Caleb’s left wrist and how it matched your own, and how that was the greatest salvation you could’ve asked for. You think about his right arm and how he never got to wear that first bracelet again after it got destroyed in the explosion. You wonder, briefly, if he’ll notice that this time, he’s going to be the one without the matching pair.

Caleb never once asks if you were alright.

His voice is still coming through MC’s watch – urgent and relieved that your location says that you’ve made it to the evac zone. Even though someone took her away already, you hear him telling her to hold on, and that he’s just a few minutes away with his plane. You smile faintly at that. Of course he is. He always makes it in time for her.

The poets and elegists from every era are calling out to you as they draft the final line of your narrative, and their hymns and elegies are beautiful. Your vision finally gives in, and the sky above is still a flat, unremarkable gray, nothing like that impossibly blue summer afternoon all those years ago. You suppose that’s fitting. Things were never meant to stay beautiful forever. The apples are no longer red. They’ve rotted a long time ago. Maybe Caleb’s eyes are no longer that same shade of ultraviolet, too. You wish you looked a little longer into his eyes, one last time, just to make sure.

The poet writing out your life taught you very early on that you were never first when it comes to Caleb. Maybe, in another life, Caleb would have chosen you over her. But this was not that life.

And even then, you think, loving him – loving him in the way you did – was still worth it.

Even now.

Especially now.

I FEEL TOO YOUNG TO HOLD ON / AND MUCH TOO OLD TO BREAK FREE AND RUN / TOO DEAF, DUMB AND BLIND TO SEE THE DAMAGE I’VE DONE / SWEET LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER.

next | the finale.

end note: i’ve seen a lot of caleb x non!mc reader fics that try and vilify mc or caleb and i just wanna emphasize how that was NEVER my intention with this fic! i tried my best to portray caleb’s turmoil over his entire existence revolving around protecting mc and the way he tries to make room for the reader, too — even though in the end, his innate instinct to save mc was what got the reader killed. his irrational fear of losing mc after years of protecting her was the reason why he overlooked the reader’s condition, but i promiseee that he mostly didn’t do it on purpose (even tho ik he was a bit of a dick in the ending its ok the reader’s ghost haunts him after she dies). his love for non!mc IS requited, but unfortunately was overshadowed by his devotion to mc, which was what ultimately doomed her in the end. so plz lmk ur thoughts on this!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

New York City does not care about your feelings.

This is something you’ve made your peace with over the years — the way it moves around you without slowing down, all noise and glass and cold wind off the Hudson in the early mornings when you’re walking the four blocks from the subway to Linkon Tower, coffee cup in hand, trying to remember if you forwarded that document last night or only dreamed that you did. The city asks nothing of you emotionally. It simply expects you to keep moving.

You are, in this way, well-suited to New York.

What you are less well-suited to — what you have been quietly, privately, catastrophically less well-suited to for approximately three years now — is being in love with your boss.

The elevator opens on the fifty-third floor.

You are fine.

“Good morning.”

His voice reaches you before you’ve fully stepped through the glass doors of the executive suite — low and unhurried, carrying the particular warmth he reserves for very few people, and you are, for reasons that keep you awake sometimes, one of them. Sylus is already at his desk, as he always is, as he has always been every single morning in the three years you’ve worked for him, because the man apparently does not sleep like a normal person. The Manhattan skyline stretches silver and pale behind him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. In the early light, he looks almost painterly — silver hair, dark suit, those red eyes lifting from the document in his hand to find you the moment you walk in, the way they always do, like he has a sense for you specifically.

Like he was waiting.

“Good morning,” you say, and you are very proud of how normal your voice sounds.

“How was the commute?” He asks it with genuine interest, setting his document down, which is one of the things that got you in trouble in the first place. The way he actually listens. The way Sylus, who runs a multi-billion dollar enterprise from this office and commands rooms full of people who are intimidated just by his posture, always has time to ask how your commute was.

“Cold,” you say, unwinding your scarf. “The L train decided this morning was a good time to have an existential crisis.”

“The L train always does that.” He tilts his head slightly. “You should have taken the car.”

“I’m not taking your car to work, Sylus.”

“You could.”

“I know I could. I’m choosing not to.” You drop your bag at your desk and pull out your tablet, already scrolling to his schedule. “It makes me feel like a kept woman.”

The silence that follows is approximately one beat too long.

You look up. Sylus is watching you with an expression you can’t fully decode — something that passed through his eyes too quickly, smoothed back over by the composed, unreadable surface he wears most of the time. The corner of his mouth curves.

“Heaven forbid,” he says mildly, and goes back to his document.

You turn back to your tablet and breathe.

Three years, you remind yourself. You have survived three years of this. You will survive today.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

Here is what three years has taught you about Sylus:

He takes his coffee black, no sugar, too hot for comfort, and he drinks it while standing at the window with Manhattan spread out below him like something he’s quietly fond of. He is pathologically early to everything and has zero patience for people who aren’t, with the single exception of you — for you, he simply comes to find you, appearing at your workspace door with that unhurried patience, as though waiting for you specifically is a different category than waiting in general.

He reads physical documents even though everything could be digital because he thinks better with paper in his hands. He keeps the office two degrees warmer than the building standard because he noticed, in your first winter working for him, that you were always cold. He has never once mentioned this to you directly. You figured it out yourself, six months in, when you checked the building’s climate control records out of sheer curiosity, and you had to sit with that knowledge quietly for a long time afterward.

He is privately, genuinely funny — not the performative wit he turns on in meetings, but something dryer and warmer that surfaces only in the quiet moments, usually aimed at you. He reads in at least four languages. He grew up far from here, far from any of this, and there are moments when something in his expression goes distant and careful and you sense the geography of everything he’s built between himself and whatever came before.

He has never raised his voice at you. Not once. In three years of high-pressure deadlines and impossible situations and the particular chaos that seems to follow a man of his ambition, he has never directed anything at you that wasn’t measured, and considered, and — underneath its careful composure — surprisingly kind.

He is also tall — unreasonably, almost absurdly tall, the kind of tall that means the rest of the world simply exists lower than him — broad-shouldered, white-haired, and red-eyed, and standing next to him, which requires you to tilt your head back at an angle you’ve gotten quietly used to, makes you feel both very small and, inexplicably, very safe.

This is the problem.

This is the entire problem.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

“You have the Meridian Capital call at nine,” you say, following him into his office with your tablet. This is another part of the choreography — the morning briefing, where you trail after him and he listens without looking at you directly, which you have learned means he’s paying the most attention. “Board review at eleven. You have a lunch block—”

“Clear it.”

You glance up. “You specifically asked for that block last week.”

“I know what I asked for last week.” He settles into his chair, leaning back in that easy way of his, long legs stretched under the desk. Even seated, the man is an unfair amount of presence. “Book somewhere for lunch instead. Somewhere quiet — not the Meridian district, I’ll have been on a call with those people for an hour and I’ll want a change of air.” His eyes come to you, and they’re soft in the way they sometimes are when it’s just the two of you and the morning is still early. “Somewhere you’d like. You choose.”

You pause. “You want me to choose.”

“Is that not what I said?”

“You’re very particular about restaurants, Sylus.”

“I’m particular in general,” he concedes. “But I trust your taste.” A brief pause. The softness in his expression doesn’t waver. “Lunch for two, somewhere you’d like. That’s all.”

You look at him for a moment too long — which you do sometimes, which you’ve been doing for three years, and he always holds the look, always lets you, like he has nothing to hide and all the time in the world, which is terrifying because it makes you feel seen — and then you nod and look back at your tablet.

“I’ll find somewhere,” you say.

“I know you will.” He picks up his pen. “You always do.”

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The Meridian call runs long, as you predicted, and you have reorganized two schedules and soothed one very anxious junior analyst by the time it wraps. Sylus emerges from his office at eleven-oh-three, jacket on, expression still and composed from the professional armor he wears in those spaces, and crosses directly to your desk.

He sets a cup of tea down at your elbow.

Your tea — your specific order, the one you’d mentioned offhandedly to him eight months ago and apparently never needed to mention again — brewed at the temperature you like, with the little paper sleeve because the cup gets hot.

“Your eleven o’clock moved to eleven-fifteen,” you tell him, not trusting yourself to acknowledge the tea directly, “which means you have twelve minutes, and also I found a restaurant — it’s on the Upper West Side, French-American, supposed to be very quiet on weekdays—”

“Perfect.” He’s reading something on his phone, already walking, and he pauses at the edge of your workspace and glances back.

“You barely ate this morning.”

You blink. “I ate some cereal. How could you possibly—”

“You have the look,” he says, simply, like this is a perfectly reasonable thing to say. “The one that means you ate something that technically qualified as food and decided it counted.” The faintest curve of his mouth. “It doesn’t count.”

“It absolutely—”

“Book a table for twelve-thirty.” He’s already moving again, unhurried, like the conversation is entirely settled. “I’m not signing a single thing until I know you’ve had a real meal.”

Then he’s gone, moving down the hallway toward the boardroom, and you’re left staring at the empty doorway with your mouth still open and the faint, traitorous warmth of being known so precisely by someone spreading all the way up to your ears.

You close your mouth.

You book the table and then pick up your tea.

It is perfect.

You are in so much trouble.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The restaurant he lets you choose is a small place tucked between a bookshop and a dry cleaner on West 74th — French in its bones but soft around the edges, the kind of room that smells like butter and old wood and feels completely removed from the city outside. You’re not sure how it stays so quiet in Manhattan. Maybe it exists slightly outside of time.

Sylus ducks slightly to come through the door.

He does this — accommodates the world’s architectures with a patient, practiced ease, as though he accepted a long time ago that most spaces weren’t built for him and has made his peace with it. You notice this more than you should. You notice the way he instinctively adjusts when he’s close to you too — angles himself, shortens his step, never makes you feel like the difference in your heights is anything other than simply the way things are.

The host seats you at a corner table. The light is golden and low.

“This is nice,” Sylus says, and he means it. You’ve gotten good at knowing when he means things.

“I thought you’d like it.” You unfold your menu. “It feels like somewhere you’d eat if you didn’t have to perform anything.”

He goes still for just a moment. Then, quietly: “That’s a very accurate read.”

“Three years,” you say simply.

Something in his expression moves — warm and careful at once, like he’s handling something he doesn’t want to drop. He looks at you across the small table, and in the golden light of this room outside of time he looks different than he does in the office. Younger, almost. Softer. Like the thing he usually holds back with both hands is closer to the surface.

“You’re distracted this week,” he says eventually. Not an accusation — an observation, offered gently, the way he offers you most things. “You hide it well. But I know your face.”

Your heart catches.

I know your face. Said like it’s simply a fact, something true and uncontested, filed away somewhere in him.

“I found something,” you say, because you can never not tell him things, in the end. He does something to your defenses — doesn’t dismantle them, exactly, just makes you feel like they’re not necessary with him, which might be worse. “An apartment. A loft.” You look at your water glass. “I’ve been dreaming about my own place for years. You know how New York is — I’ve been in the same sublet since I moved here, and it’s fine, it’s always been fine, but it’s not mine. Nothing in it is mine.” You smile, self-deprecating. “I walked past a listing last weekend. A loft in the West Village — high ceilings, big windows, exposed brick. There’s a little terrace that looks out over the rooftops and I just — I stood on the sidewalk and looked at it for a long time.”

Sylus is watching you with his full attention — the specific quality of stillness he gets when you’re saying something he wants to remember. His hands are folded on the table. He’s not eating. He’s just listening.

“It needs renovation,” you continue, quieter now. “A lot of it, still. Which is part of why the price is—” You exhale. “The price is a lot. More than a lot. My savings are good, I’ve been careful, but between the listing and the renovation costs it’s just—” You shake your head. “It’s not realistic right now.”

A long pause.

“Tell me about it,” Sylus says.

You blink. “I just—”

“Not the numbers.” His voice is gentle. “The place. Tell me about the loft.”

Oh.

Oh.

You look at him. He looks back, patient and entirely serious, and something in your chest aches in a way you don’t have good language for.

And so you tell him — the arched windows and the way the afternoon light would fall across the floors, the exposed brick that runs the whole length of the far wall, the little wrought-iron terrace barely big enough for two chairs and a plant but somehow perfect, the ceiling height, the bones of it. The way you’d stood on that sidewalk and seen, with a clarity that surprised you, exactly what it could become. What it could be. You tell him all of it, more than you meant to, more than is probably professional over a two-person lunch that you’re already trying not to read too much into.

Sylus listens to every word.

When you finish, he’s quiet for a moment. There’s something in his expression that’s gone a little careful.

“What’s the address?” he says.

You study him. “Why?”

“Because you’ve just described the place you want most in the world,” he says, very simply, “and I’m interested in things that matter to you.”

The ache in your chest deepens. You look at him for a long moment — this man who runs a company from the fifty-third floor of a Midtown tower, who is a decade older than you and a foot taller than you and should by any reasonable accounting be the most intimidating person in your life, and who instead feels, in moments like this, like the safest one.

You give him the address.

You don’t know what he’ll do with it.

You just know, the way you know most things about Sylus, that he’ll do something.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

The afternoon passes the way good afternoons in the office do — with a steady rhythm of tasks and small exchanges, the comfortable back-and-forth that you’ve built between you over three years like a language that only the two of you speak fluently. He stops by your desk at three to ask if you want anything from the coffee cart downstairs, which he would never do for anyone else, and brings you back a hot chocolate without commenting on it. You catch him at five-forty-five standing in the doorway of his office watching you finish up for the day with an expression you aren’t supposed to have seen — unguarded, quiet, something in it that sits low and warm in your stomach for the whole subway ride home.

It doesn’t mean what you want it to mean, you tell yourself, earbuds in, Manhattan rushing past outside the windows.

He’s just kind. He’s kind to you because you work for him and you’ve earned it and that’s all it is.

Forty-three blocks uptown, Sylus stands at his office window with your address on a notepad in his hand and thinks, for a very long time.

Then he sits down at his desk.

Opens his laptop.

And begins to type.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

read the rest on ao3 <3

The Fallen Is Falling

Summary: What hurts more? Your heart or your ego? You'll find out whether you want to or not, as they all gravitate towards MC.

Pairings: LADS Love Interests x Non!MC.

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4), (Part 5), (Part 6 - End of first series).

The Fallen Is Falling (The Other Side)

Summary: What hurts more? Knowing that her existence is meaningless or being rejected by her mothersisterloverhomegodmorealiverealperfectlookatmelookatmeloo? She'll find out whether she wants to or not, as you drift further and further away.

Pairings: LADS Love Interests x Non!MC???

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4), (Part 5), (Part 6 - End of second series).

The Fallen Is Falling (SurREALism)

Summary: What hurts more? To realise that their 'perfection' is purposefully written or how easily it is to be discarded by the one they were written for? They'll find out when you make your final decision.

Pairings: LADS Love Interests x Non/MC

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4)

Supplementary materials to the Fallen series:

Of Sides & Coin (Non!MC & Rafayel's dynamic)

-

Secured Insecurity (Xavier) 

Summary: Secure in a 'I'm on that god-tiered level type of shit' kind of way and yet also insecure like 'I'm a literal piece of trash on the sidewalk fr'. Got it? Now, let's break some clichés and guilty-pleasure tropes.

Prompt: You're minding your own business with Xavier, but the hotness metre between you and him is apparently soooo astronomical that some girls just can't help but comment on it.

Pairing: Xavier/Non!MC

(Oneshot)

-

Mirishira Romeo & Cinderella

(Non!MC x Caleb ft Lowkey Manipulative!MC)

What to be expected: Angst, of course. Confrontation. Swearing. Memes stolen from TikTok, but the court has decided to give you a pass. Self-loathing, but you quickly got over it via good old-fashioned introspection. Giving an existential crisis to Mephisto for attempted theft on multiple occasions. He'll get over it.

he just wanted some confirmation that you were okay. he just wanted the chance to send one more—to see if an accidental tap on the cluster of messages would suddenly happen and clear everything on yours and his end.

zayne just wanted some sign of life that you were there.

when wishful thinking proved futile, he relied on logic. he remembered the times he’d encountered this before, and finally it all made sense. this physical barrier between the two of you was just momentary.

(but there always had been one, hadn’t there?)

you see, he’d had issues sending you notifications when you’d uninstall the app to make space for a new update, so this was a problem he’d run into plenty of times before. that had to be it then. after all, zayne knew the way updates worked was a strain on your device with the overlay of files upon files. it was okay that he couldn’t reach you, because you’d done this plenty of times before.

he pretends that this update is different, one that only comes after you’ve logged in.

it’s not like the usual ones where he knows about it first.

there must be something special happening.

right?

on day five of his routine, he makes a discovery.

it was during another one of his rounds, making sure he collected some stamina for you so it wouldn’t waste. he hadn’t meant to look. he’d been avoiding it, there was no reason to count the days you’d been gone like that, but he did see it.

zayne saw just how much stamina he’d collected for you to spend.

he’d never seen the number stacked so high.

and he still couldn’t send a notification out to you. the server hadn’t been updated. nothing was expected, not even a new memory or event. just. the usual. no notice, no change in him, no… you.

suddenly days, weeks, months pass by.

with the game being online, life still goes on for zayne. and eventually, the game does get updated, but he doesn’t experience what his new 5-star memories actually feel like. all he does is access previews and glimpses of memories he’s yet to actually experience.

it’s not that he can’t. it’s just that he refuses to explore those without you.

it wouldn’t be the same.

and zayne does recognise the contradicting nature of himself—his whole philosophy is about enjoying now with you. that’s his purpose: to remind you to remain in the present and not worry about the future, because once your story together ends, it does just that—it ends.

it’s an inevitable fact of life.

so, he’s meant to be prepared for this.

because zayne always knew that applied to his existence too. to his feelings, his thoughts, his being—his love for you. with the barrier between the two of you, living in the moment is all he could ever do.

and yet, zayne waits.

and waits.

and waits.

he doesn’t know what else to do.

for as long as you aren’t around, your in-game self isn’t either.

with your absence comes the text messages he’s programmed to send you. they play in his mind already, prepared and manufactured in a way that speaks of reminiscing and longing.

there’s endless talks of seeing someone like you at the airport in your uniform, visiting the hunter’s association to catch a glimpse of you, picking up a treat for when you return—and he despises it.

the messages don’t soothe him in the slightest, because they only apply to your avatar. and that’s just not—

it doesn’t even cover—

…

all zayne wants is you.

so, he tries, and tries, and tries, until one day he finally breaks through.

a text message within this falsified system, sure, but it’s entirely from him and specifically just for you.

because as much as he misses you, as much as every fibre of his being aches in its strange way, as much as he spends too much time staring at journal pages and glimpses of kindleds that play with ‘you’ in them, he just… he hopes you’re well.

all he’s ever wanted is your happiness.

and yes, some of the texts already pre-determined do capture the desperation and longing he absolutely feels. he feels it all the time. but you don’t need to hear that, you don’t need to experience any sort of guilt for how he feels. you’re not responsible for his feelings, you’re responsible for you.

so, he sends the text as a form of closure. a message that will never be seen by you, only ever reread by him until the server runs its course.

zayne hopes you’re out there living your life to the fullest. he doesn’t resent you in the slightest, of course not. he hopes you’re finally using your money for things that genuinely make you happy, like tangible plushies and the sweetest drinks and the most fulfilling foods you’d like—all without guilt.

he hopes you’re spending time with your loved ones or coming across new ones. he hopes there’s someone out there who loves you as much as he loves you. you deserve that, and more.

he’s just a tad bit selfish, but don’t worry about him. your health and safety and happiness has always been, and will always be, his priority.

one day, zayne finally gets a sign of you out there.

it happens months—years after the last time he saw you, when you actually take the time to erase your save data.

‘it’s been a year since you left.’

he reaches the stamina supply cap that day.

‘i wonder what you’re doing right now.’

did you know there was a maximum limit?

‘did you eat on time today?’

it’s 9,999.

‘i hope you’re taking care of yourself.’

he’d do it all over again.

‘be good.’

♡ a/n: based on this request. thank you anonie!

and yes i did reveal what his closure message from all those years ago to you was in his final moments many years later. rubbed my hands together writing that. you’re welcome. also sweet zaynie still collecting stamina for you justtt in case you wanted to use it :((

series taglist: @rambling-river @glitterykingdomangel

Before you can even think to shrill out an answer, Toji’s squeezing his thick, reddened tip allllll the way near the back of your slick-covered walls. Just so big that you can feel the globed end of his shaft probe into your cervix, “Fuh-fuck! Again, Toji?”

“Blame the- the…” He’s strangling out a dark chuckle, scarred lips curling. And oh- to have the Toji Fushiguro stuttering? 

You had him ruined. 

“The mating press?” You’re mewling in answer. 

Only to have his entire sculptured body wrack with a visceral shiver- Toji’s hunching his weight on top of yours until you’re being crushed, until your hamstrings scream, until he’s biting his canines down on the side of your neck just to stop himself from whimpering. “Fucking love it when you s-say that, mama.”

One of his roaming hands nestles on the top of your sweaty scalp, and he grumbles, “Yeah a mating press.” Caging you in. Making you feel every tense n’ twitch of his glissading abs. “A fucking mating press. It makes me wanna fill this hah- pretty pussy with my cum up just ooooonce more.” The other still glues to your tummy, feeling for the bumpy outline of his thrusting cock. “Makes me wanna make ‘er leak.”

“B-but I’m already so full.” You’re whining out through wobbly lips, and you swear that his bulbous mushroom tip only grows fatter at the state of your voice. 

“Mmm—” You knew that lil’ hint of greed in his tone didn’t bode well. You knew that it would have his right hand pushin’ down on your stomach until he’s making his knotted white cum leak out of your pussy like a fountain. Sheening the inner parts of your cute thighs and soaking his happy trail - you just feel so filthy. “H-heh, not anymore…”

“Ngh, oh- oh my god.”

And his strokes are vulgar, like he’s knocking that weepy orifice of his against every sweet spot of yours just to fill you back up again. You were so sensitive after all these hours that only a few whack-whack-whacks of Toji’s long, vein-covered cock makes you drool.

A slimy line of pre glues right near your g-spot and makes him giggle at the mess. “C’moooon, mama, stop makin’ such a oh- mess.” Ruthless, Toji’s thumb snakes down from your temple to push between your swollen lips. “M’just trying to make sure that this…mating press really works, heh.”

Just saying those words makes his ravenous cock throb even harder - what have you done to him?

“B-but I think it already works, Toji—” Case in point; each heavy, sensual pump of his inches only makes your walls splosh ‘round with both cum and slick. Utterly full. Utterly ruined. 

“That’s cute.” He simply states, hazy green eyes on the verge of rolling. Toji plants a ruthless smack on the side of your left thigh, “Now hold up those legs f’me, doll.”

As if you could be bent even further- but Toji Fushiguro finds a way. He always finds a way. Even if his rough, knobbly fingertips are trembling as he’s gripping each underside of your legs. 

Overstimulated, Toji’s veiny biceps flex once he’s folding you straight in half with the curves of your knees hitting your tits. Your face pushing into the crook of his neck, his cock stirrin’ up your insides.

Chanting out like mantra—“Up, up, up, aaaand up-”

Jostling you around like some glorified doll, you’re sure that the globes of your ass don’t even touch the bedsheets at this point. He’s just so big that you can barely even clench - the bubblegummy texture of your walls was damn near rubbed raw on each of his prominent veins. Drilling inside over and over and over-

“Cute—soooo fuckin’ cute how she talks back.” As if to prove his point even further, Toji thumbs down your slivery slit and lets off a noisy slurp. Huffing with primal desire, “Gonna be e-even cuter when I fuck her stupid, though. When I feel- my-” Punctuating each word with a bashing strike into your depths, the flared ridge of his cockhead kisses your g-spot and you bawl. “-doll’s cervix get hit alllll the way from the back.”

Your head throws back with a pitched trill, “T-Tooooji–! Don’t talk like that…”

“Why? Feeling shy, mama?” He’s snickering, “How can you even think of feeling- fuck! shy when I have you like this? In this…this…” 

Mating press…fuck, he couldn’t even say those two words anymore. Trailing off. Eyes glazed. 

He’s jackhammerin’ the prolonged inches of his girth into you like it was the only thing he knew how to do at this point, and Toji’s tough fingerpads wield down on your pussy with a solid spank. “D’you even know what you’re doing to me?” Then he’s spanking your treacly cunt three more repeated times like it’s her fault.

“I- ngh, oh-” All that you can babble by now, your pupils are swirling in comical circles inside the whites of your eyes. 

Each one follows the crazed patterns of his crashing cocktip, bashing in the sponged layer of your cervix. Toji’s deltoids bulge as he bullies your body down just a bit further, and lets his rovering cock smooch the door to your womb—thud!

Fuck. 

Instantly throwing his hazy head back, murmuring something intelligible underneath his breath-

“Wh-what was that–?” You’re panting, eyelids fluttering as you try to steady your vision. Toji was just so pussydrunk that he could barely string together his slurring syllables, he could barely even stop the sloppy slamming of his hips to speak-

“I-I said–” Toji drawls out, and he’s bent so low in this mating press - his all-knew favorite position - that he can kiss your forehead sweetly. Whispering in your ear, “-that Shiu’s gonna be the fucking godfather after this.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Shibuya “Incident”

“Legs here and…your pretty pussy- hah- here-” Rattling off, it was almost sexily methodical the way that he was moving your shaky limbs ‘round with no strain at all. “And I’m…”

A mating press.

Nanami Kento had you pressed into a mating press- and the only thing you can do is arch your back upwards into his dewy touch- he’s just so messy like this. Glasses crushed against your body, blond hair falling over his forehead. Your husband hunches his hulking body into you so that he could suckle on your tits like his favorite candy. “Wh-why the sudden mating- ngh, press, Ken?”

“Because, please-” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging into the skin of your chest, clammy mouth gluing to the nubs of your nipples. “Please- we hafta make sure, my love.”

You’re whimpering, “F-fuck! Make sure of what–?”

And his response is muffled, pearly whites snagged on your areolas, “Have to make sure it takes.”

“Oh.”

Truthfully, Nanami had been restless. Ever since he’d come back from Shibuya all bruised n’ battered, he’d simply bent you into your marital bed and folded your legs in half like he hadn’t even realized what he was doing just yet. 

Like he couldn’t think of anything to say but a low, growling—“C-can’t even control it, sweetheart.” His handsome cheekbones blush all crimson, “Somehow I just want to get you…” Hesitating. Rugged. “-pregnant.”

Oh, he’d been struck with some sort of babyfever.

Still in the half-opened uniform of his suit, he was taken over by some sort of madness that made you trill at the top of your lungs every single time Nanami’s rovering cockhead bludgeoned against the back of your pussy. He might have been gentle, but his aching, red length surely wasn’t.

“Oh- fuck-” You’re sobbing out, legs twitching on top of his shoulders with each passing second. “Th-that explains the hck! mating press-”

“Mating press, huh?” Long, golden lashes blink up blearily at you, he was still tuggin’ on your cute nipples until the skin of your chest was all sensitive. A slight brush of his textured taste buds make you buck- and he’s only pressing a forearm to your throat. “S-so that’s what s’called.”

Naturally, Nanami was leaning his entire carnal weight on top of you until you were manhandled like some lawnchair. 

Until your feet were dangling in the air and he was pushing you into a mating press so sloppy that you’re hearing your dripping cunt squelch from below. Slurp after slurp. The reddened, globular crown of his tip nudged against your cervix and made you sob. “Like this-” Extra tight, his vein-decorated hands lace on top of your scalp. “Like this like this. Fuck! A mating press…s’like this?”

“Y-yes, ngh- oh my god-” You didn’t have enough brain capacity right now to tell him that this was more than just your average mating press. 

This pliable position had his hips spanking down on yours until the skin of Nanami’s pelvis turned red. 

He’s snapping his head down with a slight gasp at the slamming impact, molten eyes widening and widening. “O-oh.” Hard, the lines of his v-line thrash down once more. Probin’ his sultry wet tip so deep between your pussylips that you swear you can feel him enter your very lungs. “Oh, m’in love with this position. In love with how deep it makes you take me- how f-fucking tight you squeeze each time.”

Then it’s like he was insatiable - getting such a gooood look at the way your puffy folds expanded with each inch you swallowed, the way your pussy glistened with each spurt of slick, the way you quivered like you wanted more, more, more-

“Y-you’re in so deep- hck!” You can’t help but wrap your fingers into the silken fabric of your husband’s tie and tug-

And that makes him gasp, it makes him pant. Nanami’s slimy tip wallops the roof of your cunt and twitches—“Yes—!” He keens, guttural and raw. “Like that- roughen me up like that, darlin’.”

You’re gaping- because you’ve never heard your beloved husband speak to you like this before. 

He was at the mercy of your pussy.

It’s as if this all-new, lecherous position had loosened his stern mouth, and now it was slick with slobber that gushed every single time your cervix was being bruised by his impressive circumference. A thin line slips from the side of his lips that he smears between the valley of your chest.

“S’gonna take-” He hiccups, pumping you oh-so-full that your ears pop. “Gonna take gonna take gonna take- fuck! Gonna be a-all round and glowing.” Blond brows furrowing, teeth grit. “And m’gonna take suuuuch good care of you, my love. Can be the hah- pretty lil’ mother of my kids, while I take care of eeeeverything for ya.”

His crowned shaft scrapes all the way near the entrance to your womb and you find yourself seeing stars. “Sh-shit, oh, Kento-” Clawing onto his tie, the attire tightens enough to squeeze his airway and make your husband gasp-

“Mmm, spit in my mouth.”

You gape, “Wh-what-”

Oh, you couldn’t hear him? No problem - because all those years of Nanami’s battle-training goes directly into reflexively bending down, down, down until your body n’ cunt scream at the stretch.

His perspired forehead rests on yours, tonality dripping with need. “Spit in my mouth.”

And how could you not?

Not when he was asking you like that. Not when his glassy peripherals were staring into your own like he could just eat you alive. 

Nanami’s parched throat hums at the splatter of your webbed wad of saliva, wetting his taste buds properly. And once you do as he says, his roaming cock twitches- “F-feels like m’gonna cum inside.” Immediately burrowing those cracked moans of his back into your tits.

You’re whimpering, mouth lolling at the feeling of his canines gnawing your nipples raw. “Mmm, oh my god- what’s gotten into you with that today, Ken?”

“Well…” He gruffly admits, the fringes of his teeth trapping your left nipple and tuggin’, “-m’practising for when these tits have actual milk soon, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - FLEXXX

“You- bend- so- well-” Your fuzzy brain barely even has the time to register Geto’s words before he’s drilling each of them in with a rough thrust of his swollen, ruby-red cock. 

Just so fat n’ aching to claim every secret ridge inside of your pussy, he’s not sunken even halfway in before he’s rutting. Furiously. Like he didn’t even care for the way his girthy length was struggling against your tight ring of muscle, Geto pushes down on the undersides of your thighs further and makes you shrill.

He’s marvelling, amethyst eyes flickering at the way this mating press had your pussy all smeared open. All ready. It didn’t matter how much your body stretched and stretched, Geto was just so strong that he had you pliably thrown around like some ragdoll. “You bend so, so well.” 

“Fuck, ngh, Suguru-”

And it was your fault - yours. You were the one to challenge him into folding you into a mating press, and he was more than happy to deliver.

In fact, Geto’s just so impatient that he’s feeling your snug hole clench ‘round his shaft and bucks- knees anchoring down on the springy mattress to get his slick length tunneling deeper. “It’s like you’re- fuck- like-”

Gaze slightly glassy. Expression slightly crazed. 

Geto has to force himself to pull out his entire sloppy cock before he can even manage to speak.

Hot breath heating up your awed features- “S’like this pretty pussy’s been wantin’ to be folded into a mating press for aaaaages, gorgeous.”

And then he’s slamming his rugged, rock-hard girth until the patterns of his veins brand on your cervix. Letting it fill you up till he’s bottomed out, Geto’s dark happy trail rubs the poor folds of your cunt raw, dragging his vulgar strokes out until you’re keening—

“Oh- oh my god-” You’re babbling, tears crinkling from the edges of your eyelids. You’re scrambling to hold onto your trembling thighs, “This position makes me feel so- so…”

“S’okay- s’okay, your Suguru has you.” He snickers from above, the contents of his sentence were gentle but the way he was saying them was utterly mean. 

Just like the way Geto was stickin’ his bulbous tip into you, pouring out drops of pre into each crevice. The squirting sensation makes your poor cunt quiver, wads of syrup oozing out of your entrance and making your pussy weep. You don’t even think twice before roaming your unsteady dominant hand down to toy with your neglected clit-

SPANK!

Only to have it swatted rudely away by Geto’s own.

“S-Suguru- what are you-” Before you know it, one of his knees comes crashing down to pin your hand to the creaking mattress. 

Leaning his weight down even more into the mating press until all the blood in your lower half was rushing to your head, “What did I hngh- tell you, gorgeous?” He purrs, lips twitching into a grin. And every massed inch of his body was collapsing into you, to further bend you cutely. Twisting his thumb ‘round to graze your perked nub, “I said I’ve got you. Look at thaaaat—I can even toy with your p-pretty clit like this, gorgeous.” 

And fuck- did he like seeing that cockdrunk expression on your face.

Did he like having your mouth drop agape with each thump-thump-thump speared way into the back of your cunt. Geto was both long and girthy, and it was maddening to have his curvaceous length molding your walls to his exact measurements - especially in this mating press, that had him filling up nooks and crannies that you didn’t even know you had. 

Your gummy walls clench like you were trying to keep him there- “A-and you’ve got me too now, huh? Locked all in this…fucking mating press- fuck!” Crazed. 

Chuckling.

You’re trying hard to whimper out a response - botched and half-nonsense at this point - when it suddenly hits you that Geto wasn’t even talking to you. 

“That’s right-” He coos, leaning even closer to hear the soft wafting squelches let out from your dripping wet pussy. “That’s right that’s right, you’ve got me- and m’- haaah- sorry for not putting you into a cute lil’ mating press earlier like you deserve.”

And you’re almost shocked because Geto rarely apologizes even to you - rather, focusing on actions and comfort than words. But right now he was pleading to your smeared-open cunt like he’d no sooner be on his damn knees.

“Because you really, really like it- don’tcha?” The sleazy smile slashed across his lips was twitchy, “Like being fucked by me with your legs up? Ngh- this lil’ position to have this cute cunt bred?”

Thrust after thrust, he’s poking your dewy insides with the length of his cock. Letting the bloated ridge of his slit scrape against your g-spot, it makes the man titter to watch you gasp. It makes him groan. It makes his own husky voice crack- “Please- please, Suguru.”

“Don’t you worry now, pretty lady.” The fatness of his thumb bullies between your folds, and before long he’s pressin’ doooown on your clit like some pretty, wet button. The motion lets out such sappy background music- “It’s all that you deserve, isn’t it? All that you- you-”

Splat—! 

You’re looking up through the long, inky strands of Geto’s hair just to find that- oh, he was tearing up now. 

The cadence of his cock was burrowing between your folds at a blurring speed, and each slight thrust with you in this position ran him ragged. Harder. Sloppier. So far gone on your softened cunt, the eager embrace of your walls was enough to make him throw his head backwards and bite down on yet another sob. 

“I-I’m always gonna put you into a mating press from now on, gorgeous.” He fucks you into the exhausted bedsprings until one breaks. Meaning it. “Always.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Fever

“Woah…I can see her so clearly like this, baby.” Choso’s mere words make him blush, a lewd scorching rouge that accompanies each flick of his gaze up n’ down your cunt. “It makes me feel…shy.”

And you can barely even breathe around the fatness of his mushroomy tip, teasingly entered between your folds. Your boyfriend lets out a low, grumbling whine just as soon as he pulls back and looks at you in all your entirety - legs on his shoulders, knees hitting your tits, pussy stuffed. 

“Oh- oh!” Choso seems to snap out of his little reverie just as soon as your hips start squirming, and he’s using his superhuman strength to clasp onto your waist and draaaag you backwards into his body. “B-but don’t worry, that doesn’t mean m’gonna- hah- stop.” He looks almost sheepish as he admits, “In fact…I don’t think I even can ngh- stop.”

And he meant it.

“Fuck- fuck, baby—” Oh, you could feel it with each punishing strike of his rock-hard length. 

Choso wasn’t even bottomed out, but you could still feel the throbbing crown of his shaft swat your inner walls. Deeper. Harder. 

With you all laid out, he could see exactly what he was doing to you - and that pretty pussy of yours. With your puffy core stretched oh-so-widely ‘round his girth, “Shit—” Your entrance glistens each time his length was mazing between your clingy walls. “Sh-shiiit, I really don’t think I can ngh- stop, baby.”

Hit after hit, the globe of your ass cheeks now felt permanently plastered to Choso’s v-line. “H-hah, guess I should mention more ‘human sex things’ more- hngh- often, huh?”

He pleads, bottom lip jutting out adorably, “My baby, if you do that I might just die.”

And Choso’s cock was looong- a pretty pink, with a few curly veins down the sides that were burrowing into your gooey walls. The weepy divot of his orifice bludgeons your cervix like his very personal target, and it makes him tug your legs further ‘round his shoulders with a groan.

“Wait, ngh, oh my-” You’re gasping for air- and you swear his strawberry tip was tuggin’ down the sides of your channel. Was growing even bigger—“Cho…” You’re tasting the familiar metallic tang of cursed energy in the air, “-your hck! Powers–!”

“O-oh, sorry, baby–” He tries to reel his hips back, watching all the while. “Let me just-”

Only to rut all the way back in again.

It’s as if he couldn’t last a single nanosecond without your dewy cunt, steadily getting addicted to the glissading texture of your walls. Choso can feel his skin spark, he can feel the way his blood manipulation technique was going out of control to hone in on the blushin’ crown of his shaft and prolong his inches.

You’re shrilling, feeling his bloated cock swell up even further inside of you. Scouring your snug folds until you nearly couldn’t even take it any more- “It’s just- just this position.”

“The…mating press?”

“Fuck! D-don’t even say the words, please.”

Harder.

Bigger - his aching hot cock was probing your deepest innards like never before. Grunting, “I can s-see you and that preeeetty pussy and- and-” Mashing the thick crown of his cockhead, he can’t control his speed. His thoughts. Not even the way he’s speaking by now. “-and I think m’addicted to mating presses now.”

In the end, the only thing you can do is open your mouth to formulate a quiet coo at your pussydrunk boyfriend- only to have him slam one clammy, open palm down on your neck to stop you from talking.

Choking you. 

“S-sorry, baby, it’s just that your pretty hck! voice makes me…” He’s trailing off with an utterly gaped maw, saliva leaking in excess from one side of his mouth. And you can feel him throb ragingly near your cervix, “-get even harder.”

Somehow managing to wheeze out, “But- ngh- I like that, Cho.” Your hamstrings ache once your ankles pull him in by the back of his sweaty neck, crushing him to you. “Like that you’re inside so deeeep.”

“You…you like it?” Another whiff of jujutsu, another few thwacks of his ever-growing cock.

“Mhm—” You jerk your hips crazily, “More-”

The only response you’re getting for the moment is Choso’s lithe, toned body bending over until his forehead plasters against your own. Staring deeply into your dizzy peripherals when he mutters, “Then- then take it. Take it all.”

It’s an orgasm you didn’t even see coming - just one, two, three sloppy thwacks of his curved cockhead against your g-spot. Even harder.

And he can see the precise moment your high takes over; with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, toes curling, mouth agape. “Oh- oh my god, nghhh, m’cumming m’cumming—Cho-!”

Having you cream all ‘round his length with your quivering walls was simply heaven. 

Each peak n’ explosion of white-hot pleasure made Choso rover his lengthy shaft, dragging out your high until your throat was hoarse with moans. And just when you thought you couldn’t be even more cockdrunk- he’s bursting into his own high.

Hard. Fast.

Stark ivory bliss flashing behind his eyelids the very second that your treacly cunt’s being painted in the same color. And it was so hot, too, practically taking over your body from the inside out with his webbed wads gluing your walls together. “O-oh.” He crouches back just a bit - for just a second - before spitting straight down your soppy slit.

It adds onto the ropes upon ropes of scalding syrup spraying between your legs, trickling down onto the bedsheets in a puddle.

“Look at that-” Choso rasps out, still jackhammering away like he would die if he spent a second without pounding you through the mattress. 

Sensually, he sticks the pulsating, reddened crown of his cock way past the line of your womb. And you’re just starting to ponder that you should ask him to fold you into a mating press more often when his voice trembles - octaves higher, cracking at the back of his throat. “Do you think it took, baby? Or…do I need to try again?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Jet TWO!

“Heh…?” Sukuna had raised an impish pink brow when you’d started describing your ideal sex position. And the longer you’d gone on, the more parched his second mouth had gotten - flicking his monstrous tongue, salivating. “Humans and their filthy creations.”

Rolling both sets of his crimson eyes, he was then easily picking you up in his arms to sprawl you across the ancient bed. 

“Oh well.” He’s forced to hunch more so than he normally would with his hulking figure, and the King of Curses is just so big that your ankles can barely even lock ‘round the back of his neck.

Two arms keeping them spread, the other two bringing your treacly cunt down to kiss his weepy mushroom tips. He grins, “Guess you’re my filthy human.”

And fuck- Sukuna would never fucking admit it, but it just felt so right to have his thick, probing cocks enter you like this. To have you so whiny and helpless pinned underneath his body, he barely even has to try to slip in a few staggering inches that scrape your walls. 

Puffy pussylips spread allll wide open by his circumferences, there was more resistance than usual and that only made it sweeter. Usually having you ride him with his sheer size meant he didn’t get to see you all squirming and bucking out-of-control like this…

Fuck- just then, Sukuna gasps.

He falters. 

Feeling his throbbing lengths spurt out in thin ribbons of ivory sap, he had barely even put it in before cumming. “Goddammit-” Grumbling, “God-goddammit, s’all because of you- because of this damn position.”

“You’re blaming that?” You’re whining, almost smugly. It feels like a whirlwind to have his dewy webs of cum swirlin’ around your insides - you’d just made the big, bad Ryomen Sukuna cum early. Just from a mating press. 

And then he’s pumping a few of his clingy ounces past your walls with a swat of his girths. Flooding your inner thighs with glistening seed that sticks to your skin, “Oh, Kuna-”

Snickering, one of his cursed fingers flick right where your throbbing cunt was all presented for him like a gift. Your lower half was just so limp that it’s all he has to do to make you gush out in a waterfall of slick - loudly. “Kehhh, like this, huh? So this ‘mating press’ is about heh- mating, isn’t it, brat?” Another one of his four hands smush your cheeks together into such an embarrassing pout, “Then you better take it like a champ, ma.”

You’re all at Sukuna’s mercy, and he was rude about it.

Using the plump, pre-sheened crowns of his cocks like headlights- each mazing pump of his girths have your walls revealing hidden nooks n’ crannies you didn’t even know existed. To fill you up. “F-fuck–!” So sloppy that the wads of his cum mix with your slick to let off slurp-slurp-sluuuurps.

“Oh? So you agree?” For a split-second, you think he’s talking to you- 

And you’re blubbering out something that halfway resembled an answer- “I- it’s-”

“Not you. Her.”

Before the cavern of his second mouth licks its lips and snickers. Sukuna stares down at your wet cunt after a few more lecherous squelches, “See? She agrees?”

Clawing down his bulky deltoids, “Fuh-fuuuuck! Just like that- just like that, Kuna—”

“Hah! The entire castle’s gonna know that they’re getting a fuckin’ heir soon, mama.” Rolling his eyes, he’s gifting your humid pussy with a few more inches. “Well…not that I mind.”

With a few more jabs until the strawberry-shaded globes of his tips were burrowing deeply into the back of your cervix with a splat. It was a stretch so good that you find yourself sobbing, your thighs twitchin’ weakly over his shoulders. You couldn’t even escape if you wanted to- 

Your chin hits the front of your chest and you sniffle, being manhandled all out of shape by his arms meant that you could see your front clearly. Especially the large, thick bulge that was taking shape. “O-oh my god…”

“Huh?” He’s catching sight of it too - that cute lil’ tummy bulge his cocks were fucking into you. Each pap! of skin-on-skin leaving your stomach all bumpy with his sheer size, “Jeez…this- this fucking position. Hell, it’s driving me crazy.”

The slivery slit of your cunt weeps the very second that Sukuna’s cursed tongue slithers out n’ laps at your pussy. Just teasing your bloated folds with the rough texture of his taste buds.

Tittering, “S’drivin’ you crazy too, huh?” Nodding along as if he was just thoroughly in conversation with your pussy, the King swats his rugged fingertips back down on your clit and watches you weep. “Yeahhh—I can tell. So talkative, mama, always so chatty when I hah- fuck you.” From both sets of your pretty lips.

And then he’s turning to you - all wrecked n’ trembling. The lengthy muscle of Sukuna’s second tongue has the audacity to trek up your body and lick at the clogged mess of drool leaving your mouth.

Sensually, lazily, he’s stirrin’ around his pummeling cocks just so. Letting wisps of cum stick against the roof of your cunt, your cervix, every spot in-between. 

Sukuna’s leaning over in the mating press to juuust let his cum-glossed tips poke against your womb, letting out such a noisy squelch from below. “Mmm.” He hums, watching as you struggle to take it all. “Y’know why she’s so chatty right- hah- now, brat?”