💜

April, 1996

Michael Jackson wasn't usually the type to spend his evenings in crowded clubs. Between rehearsals, meetings, and the endless preparations for his upcoming tour, his free time was usually spent somewhere quiet and familiar. But after weeks of persistent encouragement from a few friends in the industry, he finally gave in. The tour would begin in a matter of weeks, and they insisted one night out wouldn't hurt.

As the black SUV rolled to a stop outside the glowing venue, Michael adjusted the brim of his fedora and stared through the tinted window at the line of people waiting to get in. Music pulsed faintly through the walls, mixing with the city's nightlife. He wasn't entirely convinced this was his scene, but for once, he decided not to overthink it. Maybe they were right. Maybe, before the chaos of another world tour began, he deserved a night to simply enjoy himself.

The dim lights of the strip club pulsed with the opening beats of "Come Together." You stepped onto the stage in nothing but a tiny G-string thong that barely covered your pussy, the thin fabric already damp from the heat of the room. You locked eyes with… is that Michael Jackson?? seated right at the edge, his gaze intense and hungry as you began to move.

You did your best to keep it cool. Hips rolling in slow, sensual circles, grinding down low before snapping back up. You turned, bent at the waist, and spread your legs just enough to flash the thin strip of fabric disappearing between your ass cheeks. Michael leaned forward, completely captivated. He pulled out a thick stack of bills and started making it rain, tossing hundreds that fluttered down around you like confetti. You dropped to your hands and knees, crawling toward him while the cash stuck to your skin. You arched your back, shaking your ass inches from his face, the G-string riding up so tight it outlined every fold of your pussy.

The song built to its peak. You stood, hooked your thumbs into the sides of your thong, and teased pulling it down before letting it snap back. You spun, dropped into a squat, and bounced your ass right in front of him, the fabric so minimal it left nothing to the imagination. Michael threw more money, his eyes never leaving the way your body moved. When the track faded, he stood and signaled the bouncer.

"Private room." he said, voice low.

You followed him to the back, the small VIP room smelling of cheap perfume and leather. You expected him to want the usual lap dance, but Michael sat on the couch and patted the spot beside him.

"Sit with me," he said. " Wanna talk pretty girl."

You raised an eyebrow but sat, legs crossed, the G-string thong still the only thing on your body. Michael leaned in, genuinely interested.

"That performance... you got something special. Tell me about yourself."

You hesitated, then started talking, but the more you spoke, you started to ramble. Somehow you ended up trauma dumping on the most famous man on Earth “I really had no where to . Kicked out for nothing. This club took me in. I live in the back room when I’m not on stage. It’s a roof, yeah, but it’s more than that. It gave me power. I control the room when I dance. No one owns me here."

Michael listened, nodding, asking gentle questions about how you survived those first nights and what the stage meant to you. You answered honestly, the conversation stretching longer than any client usually allowed.

His weighted attention was so attractive, you felt the need to feed into it. After a while you stood up, hands on your hips. "Enough of the mushy shit. Let me give you at least a dance. You can even touch."

You straddled his lap without waiting for an answer. The tiny G-string thong pressed directly against the growing bulge in his pants. You started slow, rolling your hips in deep, grinding circles that dragged your barely-covered pussy along the length of his cock through his clothes. You rolled your hips on the tips of your toes spelling out his name nice and slow, face hovering over his. You leaned in, lips brushing his ear as you moved faster, pressing down harder. Michael’s hands came up to grip your waist, then slid lower to squeeze your ass cheeks, spreading them so the thong pulled tighter between your folds.

You moaned softly and finally kissed him. It started soft but quickly turned heavy, tongues sliding, teeth nipping. You rocked harder, now fully humping with purpose, the thin fabric doing almost nothing to stop the wet heat of your pussy from soaking into his pants. Michael’s hands moved up to your throat. He wrapped his fingers around your neck and squeezed just enough to make your breath catch while you kept grinding.

The pressure built fast. Your hips jerked in short, desperate thrusts, your clit rubbing right against the ridge of his cock through the layers of fabric. Michael tightened his grip on your throat, choking you lightly as you bucked up to meet every grind. You kissed him again, messy and open-mouthed, saliva mixing as your tongues tangled. Your thighs trembled. The G-string was soaked, your pussy lips sliding wetly over his clothed dick with every roll of your hips.

Michael groaned into your mouth. His free hand grabbed your ass, pulling you down harder. Your body seized. You came hard, pussy pulsing and gushing, soaking through the tiny thong and leaving a visible wet mess all over the front of his pants. The feeling of your climax triggered him. Michael’s cock twitched beneath you, pulsing as he came in his clothes, hot cum spreading and mixing with your juices through the fabric.

You stayed locked together, breathing heavy, your forehead pressed to his while the last tremors ran through both of you. Your thong was ruined, clinging wetly to your still-twitching pussy.

Michael caught his breath first. "Come on tour wimme, baby. I’ll pay you to be stage. I got the perfect song for you to come out to."

You, still caught in the afterglow, didn’t hesitate. You threw yourself against him, arms around his neck, and kissed him again deep, hungry, already grinding once more even as your mixed cum cooled between you.

Michael plops himself on the edge of his bed, the sunlight pooling through the window behind him & on the polariod he’s holding, a polaroid of you. In the picture, you’re sat on your boyfriend’s lap in an oversized tee, probably his. Your bare ass is jutted out as you look back, smiling cutely at the camera lens, your boyfriend’s hand gripping the fat of your cheek. As much as Michael loves it, it doesn’t belong to him.

The Polaroid he’s holding actually belongs to your boyfriend, your loyal & loving boyfriend. He found it poking out his wallet that was laying on the couch while you, Janet, his brothers & of course your boyfriend, were in the occupied in the back garden drinking & chatting, completely unaware of his sly acts.

Michael’s always been a bit nosey, especially when it comes to you & your boyfriend. He can’t help but despise him, hates the way he looks at you, hates the way he touches you. He’d always feel a way when you brought him over almost every-time you visited. He was still such a boy even in his 20’s, so lustful & envious yet so shy & enclosed.

He’d always ogle at you from across the room anytime you weren’t looking. The natural pout of your ripe pink lips, or the way your tits would bounce a little any time you giggled or moved, practically threatening to fall out of your skimpy camisole.

He lays back on the bed, placing the sultry Polaroid next to him so he’s able to pull of his shorts & his boxers, his eyes never leaving the picture beside him. He leaves them pooled at his ankles, too excited & frantic to take them off completely.

His cock is already rock hard, standing upright, just begging to be milked after multiple painful hours of weeping pre-cum in his pants from the way your ass looked in those denim shorts today. Thank god it was summer, he thought to himself.

His cheeks flush hot & pink as he picks up the picture again, trembling from adrenaline. He knows it’s wrong, you’re taken, someone else’s property. But Michael’s a traditional man, a boyfriend ain’t a husband is it?

He wraps a shaky hand around his meaty shaft, long n’ full veins already making an appearance under the skin from his intense arousal.

Shallow pathetic whimpers fall from his lips as he gently strokes his cock, staring at your slutty little picture, his mouth agape. He’s never been so erect in his life, he can barely wrap it around his hand from how big it’s gotten.

"God help me." He whispers, his voice box cracking.

He was obsessed with you, he’s had a crush on you ever since Janet brought you over, he’s just never acted on it as he’s doing now.

His attempts to keep his eyes out the back of his head start to fail as he gets closer to his climax, his hips bucking sloppily into his fist as he shuts his eyes, falling deeper into his imagination & less in reality with each stroke. Your name fell out of his mouth instinctively like a mantra, his cock a ticking time bomb in his grasp.

All of a sudden, his selfish trance was broken with a creak with what sounded like a door. He looks to the sound briefly, thinking it was something else. But it wasn't, it was you. You'd been standing in the doorway for at least 2 minutes, leaning against it with your mouth pried open in a teasing, judgmental manner. Secretly, you liked watching him touch himself when he knew no one was watching, you found it primal & dirty.

It was you who'd pushed the door open a little so it would creak, making yourself known to Michael.

As soon as he saw you, he shot up & grabbed his boxers to pull them up in a scurried motion. He looked like a deer in headlights, his eyes all blown out & scattered. You watch him slide the Polaroid under his pillow, thinking you wouldn't notice, but of course you did.

Before he could open his mouth to talk, you butt in.

"I was just walkin' past, & I heard my name?" you coo, your sweet Indiana accent making him even more shy.

You step into the room, closing & locking the door behind you with a small click as he sits up. His shorts are still pooled at his ankles as you move closer, taking a seat next to him.

He plants his face in his hands, stiff as anything. He genuinely looked as if he could cry. The last thing he expected to see was you, that's the last person he'd want to see him in that state.

"m' so sorry—" Is all he could manage, his voice shaky & eyes glossy as he looks at you, "please don't tell Janet, I'll do anything for you not to tell her, Im so sorry—"

You place a hand on his cheek, caressing him softly as you tilt your head with a small pout of your lips.

"I ain't gonna tell anyone, okay baby?" You mewl at him like a kid as you nod.

He nods along like he has no mind of his own, totally dumbfounded by anything you tell him. Now that you think of it, he kind of reminds you of a puppy.

"I wasn't thinkin' about you though, I promise, it was just to some Playboy magazines." He protests.

You let out a little giggle as you pull out the Polaroid sticking out from under his pillow like a sore thumb. You hold it up in front of his face with an amused expression.

“What’s this then huh?”

You watch the colour literally drain out of Michael's face as he goes silent. His pulse booms in his ears as he feels his hands grow clammy. He stammers as he tries to explain himself to no avail.

"That's not mine—" He says.

"I know it's not yours silly, it's my boyfriend's." You reply, your bottom lip drawing in from how horny he must've been to take this.

"N-no, but I dont know how it got here."

You tut, putting the polaroid on the bedside table.

“I’m not dumb, I mean look—“ you lift his hand off his crotch, revealing his hard poking under his boxers. He hisses through his teeth from the mere sensation of you touching his hand.

“You’re still hard, I know you were touching yourself to me. You’re such a little perv.”

“No I promise it wasn’t like that.” He presses, shaking his head.

You start to pull his shorts off from his ankles, startling him.

“What are you doing?” He says frantically, his eyes darting back & fourth from your face to where you’re pulling his shorts off.

“Shh, just relax.” You whisper, throwing his shorts to the floor, “I’m just trying to help you, but you can’t tell my boyfriend, you hearing me?”

Selfishly, you wanted his dick after seeing the size of it. & plus, you’ve always found him cute, Janet’s shy older brother who doesn’t talk much always appealed to you.

Michael watches you as if you’ll disappear if he blinks or moves an inch. He nods slowly in regard to your statement, understanding what’s going on. To him everything feels like a hazy dream, like he hasn’t accepted its reality yet.

You throw his shorts on the ground, leaving him in his boxers as you situate yourself in-between his legs. Your mouth salivates at the sight of him under the fabric like an incubus, ready to feed of him.

You caress his slim thighs, the stubble of hair making your palms tingle.

“Wait, this is wrong. This is really wrong.” Michael whines, dragging a hand across his face as he watches you tug at the hem of his boxers.

“I’ve always had a little thing for you Mikey, y’know that?” You say, pulling down his boxers & off his feet.

“—Always found you so cute.” You continue.

His cock sprung free the second you pulled down his boxers, hitting his lower abdomen. His tip was a deep mauve, glistening pre-cum still gathered at the top. His chest rises & falls as he stares at you, waiting for you to make another move.

You take his shaft in your hand & you can barely get it around. He bites his bottom lip at the sensation of your warmth wrapped around him. You bring your hand up to his mouth, laying your palm out.

“Spit,” you tell him.

He does as you say, gathering as much salvia as he can to put on your hand. You rub the fluids onto the head of his cock as you begin stroking slowly.

Michael’s eyes pinch shut tightly as he battles with something deep inside him. He’s tried to be holy his entire life, as unlustful as possible, following the ways of God. Not only that, but he was also thinking about how angry his brothers would be if they found out he betrayed their close friend. So many things were circling in his mind.

That thinking was soon brought to a stop as he feels something warm & wet touch him down there. He opens his eyes, seeing you bent slightly with your plumpy lips wrapped perfectly around his swollen tip.

“Oh my god,” he groans.

You swirl your tongue around his tip as you watch him squirm & struggle. You loved how in control you felt. You wrap a hand around the bottom of his base, not being able to take him all.

You begin bobbing your head up & down his shaft enthusiastically, squeezing him tighter with your wrapped hand as little gags rip from your throat, making him swell larger in your mouth. You love your boyfriend, but you didn’t expect Janet’s brother’s to be bigger than his. You release him from your mouth with a wet pop, stroking him absentmindedly.

“Anyone ever done this to you before?” You question with a twinkle in your eye.

Michael shakes his head frantically, his breath now completely erratic.

“No never, I’ve never done something like this before.” He admits, his cheeks flushed a light pink.

You hum in satisfaction, “you’re so innocent, that’s what I loved about you. You ain’t like everyone else.”

Michael’s unable to respond as he watches you remove your t-shirt, leaving you in your black laced bra. You lean down, giving his cock one last lick from bottom to top, making him wince & contract.

You stand on your feet as you push him back so he’s laying flat on his back, helpless. You reach behind you, unclasping your bra. Your perky tits fall free, sitting politely infront of him as you let the useless material fall to the ground.

“You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” Michael says barely above a whisper. His mouth falls agape as he gawks at them like a moth to a flame.

You giggle as you bend down, pushing your capris down your legs & off your feet. You follow along with your panties, throwing them onto his chest. He wastes no time in grabbing & touching them as if they’re gold. He brings them to his face, inhaling the natural scent of you he’d been dreaming of.

Never would you think you’d be standing in front of Michael stark naked. He relishes in the sight of you, his cock visually twitching as he furrows his brows. He comes back to reality for a second.

“What if someone comes? My brothers or Janet—“

“They won’t, just be quiet & they won’t okay?” You say, walking over to him as you situate yourself on his lap.

You were just about to grab & position him to your entrance when he stops you, grabbing your waist.

“Wait, can I?” He whispers nervously, pointing to your pussy.

You get off him, looking a little confused. You think you know what he’s asking for, yet you love to play games.

“Can you what baby? Use the right words.”

He hesitates before finally saying, “Can I lick it? Just wanna taste it so bad.”

“C’mere then.”

You nod with little giggle as you lean your back on his headboard spreading your legs in-front of him. You play with yourself with one hand, the other reaching out to place on his head as he lays down on his stomach. He looks up at you momentarily as you thread his curls between your fingers tediously.

He latches his mouth on your pussy instantly, lapping up your juices from bottom to top. The hums of satisfaction from him send a vibration to your clit, making you tense up & whimper. For someone who’s never eaten pussy before, he does it pretty well. Your boyfriend never made you feel this way, not enough desire as Michael has.

He continues suckling gently, moving to random places that wouldn’t usually bring pleasure, completely messy & inexperienced but so damn desperate.

“Feels real good Mikey, just like that don’t stop!” You cry out, your thighs starting to clench as your eyes become teary.

You pinch your eyes shut, the muffled sounds of him slurping up your arousal adding to your pleasure. His hand comes up to gently grab one of your breasts.

“Michael, keep going I’m close, gonna come—“

Before you can process anything else, an orgasm rips through you with searing force. You arch your back into a sharp C as Michael makes an attempt to keep riding you through it with his mouth. Deep guttural moans erupt from your throat as you cover it with your hand, trying to stay quiet.

Michael sits up, wiping his chin with his wrist as he smiles in pleasure.

“You taste,” he pauses, “so good.”

You push him back down again to his original position, crawling on top of him as you hover yourself above his erect cock. You grab his face gently, pulling him in closer for a messy kiss. He’s probably been dreaming of simply kissing you for a while.

He moans into the kiss as your tongues battle for dominance, both of you extremely horny & greedy for eachother.

You reach down & grab his base, angling him perfectly with your weeping slit. Once it’s in the perfect position, you sit up & place both your hands on his chest.

“Remember, not a soul.” You remind him, placing a finger over his damp lips.

Michael blinks at you with his big brown adoring eyes, humming in submission as he waits impatiently to be inside of you.

Finally, you start to sink down onto his length slowly. Each inch fills you up to the brim more & more, causing your eyes to roll back automatically. You reach the bottom, wiggling your ass you try to squeeze the last inch inside.

“It's so much bigger than his, fuck.” You whimper as you start to create little bounces.

Michael’s head falls back as low strangled groans rip from his throat. He’s not touching you yet, as if he’s afraid to overstep a boundary.

“Touch me, Michael.” You say in between moans.

You bring his hands up to grab your hips, looking at you dumbfounded. He grabs you so gently you can barely even feel it. He slides his hands down towards your ass with a squeeze, a little wave of confidence washing over him.

"Like this?" he asks.

"Yes, exactly like that."

You continue bouncing on his length, a sweet ring of white elixir forming between the base of his cock & your pussy. Even if you two weren’t making noise, the obvious sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room — almost ratting out your little secret to the rest of the house.

The room begins to feel humid, the unique aroma of your scents melting together to create an addictive combination that fills your nose with each breath.

Michael’s hips rut into you desperately from beneath, the thrusts becoming sloppy & erratic as he chases his release. He sits up slightly, wrapping his arms around your lower waist as he latches his mouth into one of your nipples. He sucks with a warm gentle pull, catching the breath from throat. He pulls you in tighter with each second, murmuring gibberish around your breast.

You hold the back of his head, running your manicured nails through his hair as you continue bouncing on him, occasionally grinding back & fourth.

“Think I’m gonna come, can’t stop.” He moans around your breast.

You pant furiously as you feel your own release crest in your lower belly, “Me too, come with me honey.”

Before you could move any more, the cord in your belly snaps. Your second orgasm riding through you blissfully. You throw your head onto Michael’s shoulder, your heartbeat booming in your ears as blind spots cover your vision temporarily.

Michael tried to last in hopes of staying inside you longer, yet the way your pussy tightened around him during your orgasm brought him to a sudden halt. His body stiffens up as he releases himself with one last thrust beneath you. You feel his warm seed paint your walls as he twitches, flopping onto his back as he tries to steady his breathing.

You lean forward, allowing him to slowly fall out of you. His flaccid length drops down on his abdomen as soon as it leaves you, his release dripping from you & onto his thighs.

All that was left was you & michael's bodies spent & glued together, a secret that only you two will have to hold from now on.

You look down at him, all fucked out & mesmerised by you. His eyes search you as if you're not supposed to be real. You pepper a kiss on his cheek,

"You're going to make this real difficult aren't you?"

a/n: i felt like a SLUT writing this

taglist:

when you were younger, you never actually got the chance to meet janet's older brothers but it was only when you moved away to a different state and you saw how popular the jackson's became that you realised that your friend had fine ass brothers.

you remember having a crush on all of them, not knowing who to choose, but there was always one that stood out from the rest and that was michael.

it was just a coincidence that he turned out to be a bigger star than the rest of them, with him going solo and having the biggest selling album of all time.

you pull your car to a stop, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head before opening your car door.

just as you go to open up your trunk so you can get out your multiple suitcases, the door of hayvenhurst bursts open.

“you’re here!” janet squeals, running towards you and giving you a massive hug.

you laugh, hugging her back just as tightly.

“im so excited to be here. oh my gosh this place is much bigger in person.” you gawk, looking up at the massive lawn.

“ehhh you get used to it.” janet smiles, before looking at the multiple suitcases and bags that are stuffed into your trunk.

“girl did you pack your whole life in here?” she laughs, helping you take out your stuff.

“janet im here for six damn weeks, i need options.” you giggle.

“fair enough.” she nods, “i hope you have a lot of bikinis in there because we’re about to be by that pool all the time!” she raises a brow.

you give her a look that means ‘girl be so for real.’

she laughs at your facial expression, grabbing a few of your bags and helping you to the door.

“but seriously,” you start. “are you sure your mom is fine with me staying?” you ask.

“pff of course! mommy is more excited for you to stay than i am. she did say there needs to be more women in the house.” janet laughs, dropping one of your suitcases right by the door.

“what about your brothers, will they be fine with me staying?”

“who cares what they think?” janet shrugs. “plus this estate is big enough for us to never see their ugly faces.”

you laugh at her words, going back to your trunk so you can grab a few more bags. it does really feel like you packed your whole world in here. but you’d rather have too much clothes, than too little!

you jump when you hear janet scream at the top of her lungs. “randy! michael! come down here!”

“what?” janet shrugs, when she sees your expression. “we shouldn’t have to carry all of this by ourselves.”

“janet it’s fine.” you smile. “this is all technically my stuff so i should be the one carrying it all.”

“girl please, i have brothers for reasons like this one.” right as she says those words, randy comes round the corner followed by michael.

“did you really have to shout that loud?” randy raises a brow, putting his hands on his hips.

you stop in your tracks when your eyes find michael’s. he looks even more beautiful in person.

“who’s she?” michael’s questions, his voice so smooth and soft spoken that it feels like you’ve been wrapped in a blanket.

“she’s my friend.” janet smiles, “and she’s staying for the summer so be nice.”

“oh ill be nice alright.” randy says, his eyes trailing your body up and down.

you laugh at his words, pulling out another suitcase.

“now go help the girl, that’s what i called y’all down for.” janet says, pushing michael towards you.

randy sighs, coming towards you and helping you with your bags.

“what’s your name?” he asks.

you tell him your name, fixing your sunglasses that are trying to slip off of the top of your head.

“that’s a pretty name.” randy smirks, shaking your hand. but not before squeezing it gently.

“randy stop flirting with my friend, and michael,” you look over to see that michael still hasn’t moved from his position by the door, “stop gawking and go help randy!” janet huffs, bossing around her older brothers.

michael sighs, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, and walking over to your car so he can help with the bags.

the first thing you notice when he steps near you is his cologne.

how can a man smell so damn good.

“hi.” michael nods, holding his hand out for you to shake.

his hand is big, way bigger than yours and you look down at the warmth radiating from his palms.

“hi.” you say, sounding just a bit breathless. “thanks for helping with my stuff, i know it’s a lot but i’m here for the whole summer and i wanted to make sure that i had enough clothes…” you trail off when you see the amused look on janet, randy and even michael’s face.

your face starts to feel strangely warm at the realisation that you just word vomited in front of michael jackson.

randy let’s out a laugh in disbelief. “no way.”

michael stays silent, still gripping your hand, and still staring into your eyes like he’s trying to look into your soul.

“girl.” janet shakes her head, a smile forming on her face, “come and get your butt in this house so i can show you your room.”

“right!” you clear your throat, letting go of michael’s hand who still hasn’t moved, and making your way to the massive doors of hayvenhurst.

“thank you again by the way!” you say over your shoulder to the two men.

“just come on!” janet laughs, leading you into the large foyer.

“i just embarrassed myself didn’t i.” you let out a nervous laugh.

“why did you just spill your guts out there?” janet laughs. “and to michael of all people…”

“i don’t know,” you shrug, “he’s just so nice and…”

janet throws her head back in laughter. “oh my god you totally have a crush on michael.”

“wha— no!” you exclaim, following your friend as she leads you up a large staircase.

“you definitely do. i can’t wait to tell the rest of my brothers and la toya. i mean, i think randy already realised.”

“janet i don’t have a crush on him!” you shout, following her down a long hallway until eventually you both stop at a door.

“mhmm, sure you don’t.” she laughs, “well if you do then this will become a very interesting summer!”

“well i don’t. so there will be nothing interesting to see!” you cross your arms.

“okay!” janet holds her hands up in surrender. “anyways this is your room, my room is just down that hall, to the left and if you must know michael’s room is down that way, all the way at the end of the hall. you can’t miss it.”

“janet!” you gasp, pushing her shoulder playfully.

“okay! okay! ill stop.” she laughs. “but i’m really happy you’re here, you’re gonna enjoy yourself so much!”

“i cannot thank you enough for letting me be here this summer, i know we’re going to have so much fun.” you pull her into a hug.

“that we are!” she says, pulling away. “i mean hot girl summer, remember?”

“exactly that!” you both cackle, doing the handshake that you both learnt when you were both just little girls in school.

“i’m going to leave you here and see how the boys are doing with your overwhelming amount of bags, and you can just meet me downstairs at the pool in, ill say maybe an hour?”

you nod. “definitely! i’m going to take a quick shower because the drive here was long, and ill meet you by the pool, if i can even find where it is.” you laugh.

“okay then how about i meet you here in an hour so i can show you where the pool is because id hate for you to get lost on your first day here!” janet giggles.

“yes, that’ll be amazing.” you open your door, stepping inside. “thank you again, janet.” you say, before closing your door and realising that you may have fucked up by coming here.

because the whole time you were speaking to janet, the only person who was on your mind was michael freaking jackson.

“so…” randy smirks, leaning against your car with his arms crossed.

michael looks up at his younger brother in confusion. “what?”

“so what do you think about pretty girl… janet’s friend.”

michael shrugs, “nothing? i don’t even know her.”

“oh but i bet you wanna know her.” randy laughs.

michael scrunches up his face, “no i don’t. she’s not my friend, why would i want to get to know her? stop being stupid randy.”

“well she obviously likes you.” randy says, raising his eyebrow. “pretty girl never even gave me a second glance when she saw you.”

“she has a name.” michael huffs, crossing his arms.

“ohhhh!” randy cackles, pushing his brothers shoulder. “you don’t like me calling her that do you? getting a bit protective aren’t you mikey?”

“oh shut up.” michael mumbles, feeling his face start to burn up.

“just admit that you like her.” randy states.

“i don’t know her, randy. how can i like someone i don’t know?” michael exclaims, getting frustrated by his little brothers pestering.

“so you’re saying you don’t find her attractive?”

“i— i don’t…”

randy laughs at his brother fumbling over his own words.

“it’s okay to find a girl pretty mikey.” randy snickers, finding this whole situation comical.

michael’s face now feels hot to touch, because he does find you attractive, more than attractive and this is the first time he’s ever met you. so how on earth is he going to handle spending the whole summer with you?

“what are you guys just doing standing there?” michael hears janet call from the open door.

“we’re talkin!” randy yells back.

“well less talking and more carrying these bags upstairs for my girl!” janet stomps back into the house.

“i swear sometimes i wonder who’s worse, her or mother.” randy shakes his head, doing exactly what his baby sister is asking him to do.

michael on the other hand is distracted by you. the way you showed up in tiny tank top, showing a sliver of your smooth stomach, and jeans that hugged your arse so perfectly that he wonders if they were painted on.

he sighs in frustration, annoyed by his own mind.

he shouldn’t be thinking this way about another woman, especially not a woman that’s the same age as his damn sister.

but for some reason he can’t, his mind is engraved with the thought of you.

for the past couple of days, all you and janet have been doing is lazing around by the pool, painting each others nails, shopping, gossiping about ex boyfriends, and just having fun.

you never thought hayvenhurst could be this welcoming, and have such a homey feeling. and you also didn’t expect janet to be correct about the mansion being big enough that you won’t even see her brothers or anyone else for that matter, because you’ve actually hardly seen them.

this is only your second week here so far, and you’ve only caught a tiny glimpse of marlon when he was on his way out to a date, but that’s it.

it’s like they all have their own seperate bubbles in the estate and only come out when they feel like it.

that’s why it was such a shock that when you decided to come into the kitchen late at night to grab a bottle of water, you found michael sitting on a stool at the island, with a notebook and a glass of orange juice.

you nearly run back out of the kitchen and back to your room because not only is the one person who you can’t get out of your mind less than ten feet away but also because you’re alone… with him.

a man who has been in your dreams for as long as you can remember and now he’s just there, right in your reach.

you’re probably going to embarrass yourself again.

he still hasn’t noticed you by the door way, too busy scribbling down notes.

“hi.” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen and making a beeline straight for the fridge.

michael’s head pops up at the sound of your smooth, velvety voice and immediately takes in what you’re wearing. he tries not to let his eyes wander, but it’s hard to stay focused when he can make out your tiny pyjama shorts, that look like they just about cover your arse.

he clears his throat, ridding his mind of those filthy thoughts. “hi.” his mouth forms a tight lipped smile, before he ducks his head back down and tries to concentrate on his notebook filled with unfinished lyrics.

you feel a small pang of hurt in your chest at the feeling of being dismissed. you get it, you’re just a regular girl who happens to be his sisters bestfriend and also staying in his home for the summer, but he doesn’t even care that you’re here, at all.

honestly why would he? he probably has hundreds of women fawning over him and you think that out of all of them, you’ll be the one to catch his attention.

ugh, you hate that you’re so delusional and you hate that you can’t get him out of your fucking head.

“sorry.” you apologise, taking out a bottle of water from the fridge. “m’ just here to get water, i didn’t mean to disturb you.” you give him the same tight lipped smile that he gave you and start to make your way out of the kitchen.

“it’s okay.” his soft voice, stops you immediately. “you didn’t disturb me.”

you turn around immediately at his words, biting your bottom lip.

“are you not tired?” you ask, mentally face palming at the question. you just got an invitation to carry on a conversation with your biggest obsession and the first thing you ask him is that? “im sorry, that’s not what i meant, i mean… its late and you’re not in bed like everyone else.” you shrug.

you should really stop speaking. because it’s like the more you speak, the more embarrassing shit comes out your mouth.

michael let’s put a soft chuckle. “it’s okay. i find it hard to sleep at night sometimes, so instead of sleeping, i write down all the ideas that keep me up.”

you nod in understanding.

“why aren’t you sleeping?” you see him raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips and how he easily flipped the question back onto you.

“i- i was sleeping!” you sputter out.

“yet you’re here standing in front of me.” your mouth widens in shock at his bold words.

he normally seems so shy and secluded but you didn’t know that he could be so bold and dare you say, funny?

before you knew it you found yourself on the stool right beside him, talking, laughing and joking around like life long friends.

“you’re so funny!” you laugh, after recovering from a laugh attack that he just gave you. you swear you probably have abs from how hard he’s made you laugh.

he shrugs, a wide smile on his face.

and that’s when you realise that it’s already later than it was before, and you are getting a bit tired.

you yawn for what feels like the twentieth time, and that’s when michael realises you should probably go to bed.

he stands up, stretching out his legs. “c’mon.” he holds out his hand so you can help you off of the stool even though he doesn’t have to. but he is a gentleman after all. “you need to go to bed. you’re practically falling asleep sitting up.”

“i do.” you yawn. “i really enjoyed talking to you tonight mikey.” you give him a tired smile.

“mikey?” he raises a brow.

“yeah. short for michael, do you not like that?” you ask, wondering if you’ve overstepped a line. you may have just spoken to him for an hour straight but you’re still practically a nobody to him.

“i like when you say it.” he says, causing heat to creep up the back of your neck.

was that him just flirting with you?

“okay.” you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “ill call you that more often then.” you smile, grabbing your unopened bottle of water.

“goodnight mikey.” you whisper, leaving him standing at the kitchen island all by himself.

as you walk out of the kitchen, michael takes a deep breath.

he never wanted this. it was okay at first because he thought he could keep himself busy and avoid you. but now that he’s heard your laugh, heard your sassy comebacks, saw the way you looked so relaxed in his presence… he just may have fucked up.

because now he has to have you.

you and michael have sort of made a routine since that one night you both spent talking in the kitchen. it happened once, then again, then again until every single night after that, you found yourself in that kitchen talking to michael about how your day went, what you and janet got up too etc. and he did the same, talking to you about his demo’s that he showed quincy, telling you about how he went to visit a children’s hospital with bill so he could give them toys and read them stories.

you never thought you could become even more obsessed with someone. but michael is genuinely one of a kind. he’s quirky, has a good soul, loves to compliment you. at this point you’ll consider him your friend.

you remember trying to hide it from janet the first night but she saw underneath all of your lies and is aware that you want michael jackson… badly.

she wastes no time with teasing you about him every chance she gets, like now.

“i can practically see you drooling.” janet snickers.

you gasp, hitting her softly on her arm.

“that was so loud, what if he hears!” you exclaim, looking over at the pool where michael and his brothers are relaxing.

“oh please, he’s already staring at you.”

your neck snaps towards michael, who’s laying on a float, with his shirt unbuttoned and swim shorts. you can’t exactly see if he’s looking at you since he’s wearing his shades, and marlon seems to be saying something to him. but with the way his head is pointed in your direction, you can’t exactly rule out the fact that he might be looking at you.

you lean back on your sunbed, scoffing. “why would he even be staring at me?”

“because he likes you, and you unfortunately like him.” she makes a face in disgust, still trying to get over the fact that you have a massive crush on her brother.

you laugh, “it’s not unfortunate, he’s cute. really cute.”

she pretends to gag at your words. “okay i can just about deal with you having a crush on my brother, but i can’t and won’t sit here and listen to you absolutely drool over him.”

“you started it. you should’ve never said anything.” you say, watching the way randy jumps into the pool, splashing everyone even you a bit.

“damn it, randy.” janet yells, wiping her arms off with her towel that was hung at the back of her sunbed.

“that’s what happens when you girls refuse to get in the pool.” randy grins.

“im tanning.” janet holds up her middle finger, before settling back and closing her eyes.

“what about you pretty girl, you wanna come in the pool with us.” you laugh at the nickname randy has given you, because unfortunately from the first day he met you and he called you that, it’s seemed to have stuck.

“sure.” you shrug, taking off your shades and plopping them on your sunbed.

janet lifts her shades up and gives you a cheeky wink.

“stop it.” you laugh, taking off your cover up that’s wrapped around your waist.

you slip into the pool, and right away you’re getting splashed with water from randy.

“randy!” you squeal, splashing water back at him.

you shriek, swimming to the edge of the pool coincidentally next to michael and his float.

“quit it.” michael says to randy, when he sees you trying to get away from him.

“oh you hiding behind mikey now?” randy smirks, when you hide behind michael’s float.

your smile is so big that you’re surprised your cheeks ain’t aching, “i thought i was going to have a peaceful swim in the pool not for you to try and drown me!” you joke.

“that’s why i never go in the pool with them boys!” janet shouts from her sunbed.

“you could’ve warned me!” you shout back, still clutching onto the edge of michael’s float who is laying there unfazed by this whole thing.

“it’s okay pretty, ill get you back next time.” randy gives you a wink before getting absolutely dunked by marlon.

“and that’s what he gets.” michael whispers to himself but you overhear it.

“hey!” you look up at him, brushing some of your wet curls out of your face.

“hey,” he says softly, smiling down at you.

michael tracks the way you bite your lip nervously before opening up your mouth to speak.

“were you watching me over there?” you grin.

“i was.” he says, honestly.

“why?” you question, putting both of your hands on his float, right near his shoulder.

“‘cause you’re pretty.” your heart speeds up at his choice of words.

“you think so?” you ask boldly, you have no idea where this surge of boldness has came from.

“mhm.” he hums, his gaze dropping to your lips. a sudden silence takes over and you realise that your faces are much closer than they were before.

“will yall just kiss already!” marlon shouts, from across the pool.

the tension snaps, you both looking in marlon’s direction.

“that’s what im saying!” janet shouts, making you duck your head in embarrassment.

“you guys are annoying.” michael mutters, settling back onto his float. you were so entranced by him that you never realised that he was leaned over his float just so he could be close to you.

you shriek, when randy catches you off guard yet again with a splash of water.

“you know what!” you shake your head, deciding to splash him back with everything you got.

“wait wait— pretty m’sorry!” he pleads, when you don’t stop.

“that’s what you get!” you laugh, you look back at michael’s float after being distracted by randy for so long, only to see that his float is empty and he’s making his way back inside with a towel on his shoulder.

“where’s he going?” you ask, “it’s still hot outside?”

“he might be jealous...” marlon says, raising a brow towards you and randy.

“huh?” you ask, seeing randy and marlon laughing. “why would michael be jealous?”

“pretty girl, have you not seen the way he looks at you? that man is obsessed!”

you give randy a look in utter confusion. “i- we… we’re friends, i think? i mean i- i find him cute but he hasn’t made any move that suggests he feels the same about me?” you just about sputter out your words, heat creeping up your neck at the thought that michael may feel the same way about you.

he did call you pretty, so maybe that might mean something. but so does randy and there’s nothing romantic about that?

janet says your name with a groan, sitting up on her sunbed. “babe i love you, i really do but you’re acting really stupid right now.”

“what?” you exclaim.

“he likes you!” marlon says, “you really thought this whole time that this was him just being friendly?”

“yeah!” you shrug. “he’s a nice guy!”

“oh my god.” janet throws her hands in the air, dramatically. “girl you better get your butt in that house and search for your man.”

you nearly choke at her words, “he’s not my man!”

“well he wants to be, and i know you want him to be exactly that, so stop acting like you don’t!” janet says, you stay in the pool, staring at her and her brothers in utter bewilderment.

janet says your name, “go!”

you blink away your nerves, swallowing nervously and getting out of the pool with randy’s help.

“make sure he’s not too mad at me aight, i just wanted to give you both a little push,” randy winks at you, sending you into the hayvenhurst mansion in search of michael.

“michael!” you yell, wrapping your towel around your waist.

you check in the kitchen, no sight of him.

you check the living room, nope, not there.

you remember janet saying that his room is on the same floor as yours, just the last door down the hall, so you decide to trust her words and find his room.

you get to his door, knocking on it a few times. “michael! are you in there?” you ask.

“mikey!” you knock again, not hearing an answer.

you go to knock again, but the door opens revealing michael who looks utterly pissed.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this furious before, and you want to know why.

“can i come in?” you question, when he just stands at the door in silence.

he steps to the side, letting you come into his room. you look around, seeing albums and vinyls everywhere.

pictures and post it notes stuck to every wall, his room basically looks like a studio booth, just with a bed in the middle.

you turn around when you realise he’s still silent behind you.

“michael what’s wrong?” you ask him, sitting on the couch that’s opposite his bed.

“nothing.” he shrugs. “you didn’t need to come and look for me.”

“well i do because you’re brothers were saying that you were upset, did i do something?”

michael looks at you, really looks at you and sees the desperation in your eyes.

“you did nothing, there’s nothing wrong.” he repeats himself, sitting on the edge of his bed.

you sigh, standing up and sitting beside him. “mikey…” you whisper, trying to amp yourself up so you can ask him the question. you are hoping that janet, randy and marlon aren’t setting you up because if they are, what you’re about to say will be embarrassing. “were you jealous seeing me with randy?”

michael’s head snaps up, and the look in his eyes tells it all. “yes. i was.” he admits, truthfully.

your mouth opens in shock at his words, because they were right. janet, marlon and randy were right, he does feel the same way about you.

“i— i hated seeing you two laugh with each other, or the way he kept on calling you pretty girl and—” before you can stop yourself you lean up and press a deep kiss on his lips, stopping him from speaking. after the initial shock of the kiss vanishes, michael closes his eyes, his hand coming up to the back of your head so he can deepen the kiss.

you let out a small whimper in the kiss when michael gently pushes you down onto the bed so he’s now on top of you. you grip onto his unbuttoned shirt, pulling his mouth harder against yours, as you let his tongue push past your lips. the kiss is desperate, messy, filled with heat and lust. but at this point you don’t care, this is all you’ve needed from when you first saw him.

he breaks away from the kiss panting, his forehead dropping against yours. you give him a few light pecks, not wanting your lips to leave his.

“you don’t have to be jealous.” you pant, your hand coming up to tangle in his curls. “because all ive wanted is you.” this time michael is the one kissing you, his mouth shifting into a grin, kissing you like he just the thought of you makes him hungry.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body more firmly on top of yours. you gasp in his mouth, when you feel something thick and heavy pressed against your stomach.

michael realises, breaking away from the kiss and looking down to see a massive tent in his swim shorts. you immediately see the embarrassment on his face. “m’sorry,” he sits up and covers his face. “you— you just drive me insane and you’re so pretty and…”

“mikey.” you say, sitting up and pulling his hands from his face.

“it’s okay.” you smile, biting your bottom lip. you put your hand over his bulge, giving it a squeeze.

michael groans, dropping his head back.

“baby…” he moans, just by the light touch of your hand.

“do you want this?” you question.

“yes.” michael says quickly when your hand goes into his shorts, finding his hot and heavy length. “ive never… fuck,” he curses when you wrap your hand around him, your fingers not even touching all the way, “ive never done this before.”

him saying that shocks you because he’s older than you by a couple years, and while you’ve had boyfriends and have fucked a few times… he hasn’t.

you’ll be lying if you say that you being his first doesn’t make you wet.

“that’s okay.” you whisper, climbing off the bed and getting on your knees right in front of him. you pull him out of his shorts fully, gawking at the length and thickness of him.

“baby, you don’t have to—” michael groans, his eyes rolling back when you wrap your warm mouth around his fat tip. you open your mouth wider, trying to get as much of him in your mouth as possible.

you bob your head up and down, humming at the taste of him.

“oh…” he pants, swallowing hard when you look up at him, your eyes filled with lust. “this feels so good.”

you hum, opening your legs a little wider, your clit throbbing just from you sucking him off.

you take him into your mouth deeper, gagging when his tip reaches the back of your throat. you come off his dick with a pop, swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting all the pre cum that’s oozing out.

michael bucks his hips, when you put him back into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and bopping your head faster.

you feel his dick twitch in your throat, knowing that he’s so close, “oh gosh…baby!” michael whines. his mouth falling open in utter bliss.

“wait, wait!” michael pants, gently using your hair to pull you off of him.

you look up at him, spit dribbling down your chin, your eyes glossy with lust.

“come here,” michael says, pulling you up from your position on your knees.

“wha— mphhh!” michael kisses you, groaning when he tastes himself on your tongue and pulls you onto his lap so you’re right above his throbbing length.

“wanna feel you.” he mumbles against your lips. you nod, pulling your bikini bottoms to the side and feeling your wetness coating your fingers. you reach behind you, raising yourself up as high as you can, feeling his tip breach your entrance.

your mouth falls open, feeling the delicious stretch of his tip pushing inside of you.

michael pushes his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his moans.

you push your self down slowly, taking in every single thick inch of his length.

once you’re fully seated you pull michael’s face towards you, connecting your lips in a messy kiss.

you hold his face, staring into his eyes when you raise yourself up right to the tip and then drop yourself back down.

you moan, finding a steady rhythm and loving the feeling of his thickness stretching you open every time you reach the hilt of him.

“you feel so good,” michael gasps, leaning back on his hands and watching the way your pussy swallows him.

“hmm… so big. you’re so big.” you whine, bouncing faster and feeling that warm heat low in your stomach.

michael grips onto your hips, laying his back down on the mattress fully, even though his feet are still pressed on the floor.

you grind your hips, rubbing your clit and feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.

gripping your hips tighter, michael starts thrusting up into you, throwing his head back at the utter tightness and warmth of your cunt.

he swears he’s never felt such pleasure before in his life.

you shatter above him, flopping onto his chest, hearing his almost broken moans, while his thrusts quicken until you feel him push his whole length into you, feeling the warmth of his seed burst into your womb.

“holy shit.” is the first thing you hear, after the ringing in your ears subside.

you look up at him with a dazed smile, seeing how fucked out he looks.

his curls are sticking to his head, his eyes are completely glossed over. dare you say that he looks… reborn.

“i didn’t expect that to happen when i just came up here to check if you were okay.” you giggle, dropping your head back onto his chest.

“me neither.” he chuckles, “but im glad it happened.”

“really?” you say.

“definitely. ive been wanting to do that since i saw you.”

you hide your face in his neck, feeling embarrassed after you’ve already rode the fuck out of him.

“mikey.” you giggle.

he drops his head down, giving you a kiss on your temple. “im serious though, i didn’t like the way randy was all over you.”

you laugh, “he said he was just doing that so he could give us a little push and now you have to thank him because it worked!” you gesture between the two of you.

“nah i ain’t ever thanking that big head.” michael grins, rubbing a hand up your back.

you smile, leaning up to kiss him deeply.

who knew staying at your bestfriend’s home would have you shackling up with her older brother.

“you think they’re both okay up there? should i go and check on her?” janet asks her brother’s, who have long since came out of the pool and are just playing catch with a beach ball.

marlon snickers, shaking his head. “if you know what’s better for you baby sis, you better leave that girl alone until tomorrow morning. she ain’t coming down anytime soon.”

randy laughs, shaking marlon’s hand.

janet’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at what they’re getting at. after a couple moments of thinking it over, she nearly throws up at the thought. “ew gross! don’t be saying that marlon!” she shouts, throwing a towel at his head.

“you did ask!” marlon cackles.

“yeah right!” janet pouts, knowing that as disgusting as it is, marlon is right and now she’s unfortunately going to have to share you with michael.

because knowing you and knowing michael, you both aren’t letting each other go.

tags: @loveposiie @delictezz @crystal-love46 @bluegangstaaaa @alohaluz @raefoxiegirl @xoxogossipgirl02 @khxna @jxngwons-pinkyy @sofisidera @animegamerfox @its-jennarose @anglfac @michaeljacksonfan01 @a-motherfcking-fish @carmykisses @cal3xx @cinnaqm @mikeyspyt @sugacor3 @starstruckivory @michaelsgirlie @mililahchapter21 @galiixoxo @cannonindeez @griddypops @monoigirl @softchaosdiary505 @mjsfinestfish @catash + add yourself here!

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes from the bed, “yes, I’m sure. I’m only five weeks. It’ll be perfectly fine.”

Michael bit at the inside of his cheek as he adjusted his belt, looking over at you through the mirror.

Ever since you had told him you were pregnant it was like the entire world was all the sudden out to get you. Everything was dangerous to him. You appreciated his precaution, it was endearing.

“If anyone tries grabbing at you, I’m gonna have bad headlines in the press tomorrow.”

Standing up, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back to hear his heart beat.

“It’ll be okay.”

You felt him sigh before he turned around in your arms, cupping your face with his hands and not a moment later his mouth was on yours.

Smiling into the kiss, your arms came up and wrapped around his neck. Laughing a bit as his hands danced down and started to lift up your dress.

He was always like this. He could never get enough of you, but ever since you got pregnant his sex drive only seemed to double. If possible.

“Honey, we don’t have time.”

“We’ll make time.” He muttered, fingers already searching for your zipper.

Lights flashed in a blinding crescendo the moment the car door opened. You squinted against the light and suddenly grew envious of your husband's choice to wear sunglasses.

Like always, he got out first and offered his hand. Your heels settled on the ground and not a moment later his arm was around your waist and his lips dipping low towards your ear.

“You okay?”

Patting him on the chest as a yes, the two of you were ushered towards the entrance of the red carpet. Waving and smiling at the cameras and fans as you went and every time someone shouted your name, you felt Michael’s grip tighten around you.

The whole time you walked in increments down the carpet, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you. Ignoring the shouts from the press to look over. His hand reached up to move some hair out of your eyes and he seemed to ask you for the hundredth time if you were doing okay and if you needed to sit down.

As the two of you navigated the crowd to find your seats, he acted like a human shield. His hand holding tightly onto yours as he practically pushed through the crowd, muttering excuse me as he went and shooting daggers at people who didn’t move over enough. Dismissing anyone who tried to stop him for a talk and when someone grabbed your arm he looked like he was about to punch someone.

You couldn’t help it as you laughed behind your hand, finally finding your seats by the stage for the night.

“What?” He asked, oblivious as he knelt to adjust your dress after you sat down.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

He raised a brow at you but didn’t bother to refute that statement as he leant forward and placed a kiss to your exposed knee from where it peeked out from the slit in your dress. Your cheeks immediately heating up at the display of affection.

He sat down next to you, ever so subtly adjusting himself as he did so and he leaned over, voice a whisper. “You look beautiful tonight. You’re glowing.” He kissed your shoulder then, “I wish we were back at the room.”

“Stop it, I probably look like a tomato.” You smacked him lightly but he easily caught your hand and brought it up to his lips.

Quincy finally joined them, sending them a wink as he sat down. “Hey, lovebirds.”

“Hi, Q.” You smiled and leaned over to talk but before you could utter a word, Michael was kissing you. You were expecting a peck at most since you were in public but became acutely aware of his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth.

Like always, you just about melted but also felt on fire with the fact people were around.

He pulled back, his smile devilish and his thumb tugged on your bottom lip. “You need to fix your lipstick.”

With each Grammy he won, he’d squeeze your thigh before getting up, bending down to kiss you before he went up on stage. The lipstick marks building up as the night went on and God, he was glowing up on that stage and your hands itched from all the clapping you had been doing.

“First, I’d like to thank God for all the wonderful gifts He’s given me and of course my beautiful wife, Mrs Jackson.”

Eight Grammy’s later, you could tell he was on an adrenaline high. Holding as many awards in one arm as he could while the other was wrapped around your waist. He had been smiling so hard you were sure his face went numb.

You were so caught up in the rush of it all you barely noticed he was leading you back to the car.

“What about the after party?”

“We’re not going to that.”

“What? Mike, you broke the record. You have to—“

He turned around, tugging you close and it was only then you took note of how blown his pupils were.

“Baby, if we’re not back in that hotel room in the next hour, I’m gonna pop a fuse.”

You bit your lip, enjoying the way his eyes flicked down to your mouth far too much.

“Okay.”

“Good, now get your ass in the car.”

You were giddy and nodded without another thought, on your own high when he slapped your butt as you bent down to get in the car.

The ride there was anything but tame. The second the car started to move, he rolled up the partition and was on you.

His hands were everywhere, immediately messing up the meticulous updo you had going on with your hair and his mouth ruining your makeup for the hundredth time that night.

His tongue was searing as his mouth trailed down from yours to your neck, lower to the exposed cleavage of your chest and you were half expecting him to rip your dress off just to get at more skin.

Your heart caught in your throat as you watched him slide down to the floor of the car, throwing your exposed leg over his shoulder as he kissed up the inside of your thigh.

His eyes caught yours in the low light, the city passing by in a blur and casting shadows across his face. You suppressed a shiver and he pushed your other knee out, exposing your underwear to the air. You were already wet, something you probably would’ve been embarrassed by but maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.

Michael sighed, sounding blissful. “Look at you. Perfect.”

Then his mouth was on you through the thin cotton and you couldn’t help it as your hips bucked up, hand coming down to hold the back of his head as your own was thrown back against the seat.

The sounds leaving your mouth were lewd and filled the air, not caring if the driver heard you and when you felt Michael pull your underwear aside and sink two fingers in you felt delirious.

His mouth was hot and wet against you as he worked you with his fingers, his gloved hand holding your thigh securely over his shoulder as he ate you out. His tongue was like a weapon, drawing circles over your clit before flatting it.

When he added a third finger you were pretty sure you started to cry.

“Michael! I’m… fuck.”

“That’s it,” he whispered against you and once you came he didn’t bother stopping. Apparently in his own frenzy and it was only then you noticed he was gripping himself through his slacks.

The door to the hotel room shut and his hands were back on you, fumbling for the zipper and he just about ripped through the fabric in his haste. His mouth latching onto your neck from behind and hands clawing at your hips to grind into you, guiding you through the room blindly before falling onto the bed.

You watched with a ringing in your ears as his teeth caught on his glove and pulled it off, tossing it carelessly behind him and shrugging off his jacket.

Eyes flicking down, you could see him clearly through his pants and your mouth went a little dry as you watched him undo his belt.

“Do you know how difficult it was trying not to make this obvious the whole night?” He kicked his pants off and was left in his boxers, taking hold of himself through the fabric and he shut his eyes briefly as he squeezed.

You watched the way the veins in his hands popped as he did so in a lust induced haze.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Slowly beginning to lie backward into the bed as he approached, his thumbs hooking onto the band of his boxers as he began to lower them.

“No, you’re not.”

You shook your head and hummed as he crawled over you, his knees pushing your legs open as he did so.

“Not at all.”

His lips crashed down on yours, one hand winding in your hair as the other hiked one of your legs up and you felt him brush against your entrance.

He tugged lightly, still careful with you as your neck bent back and his mouth trailed down, sucking and biting as went and a groan left him when he finally thrusted into you.

“Eight times,” he said between bites and you were sure marks would be littered all over you tomorrow.

“What?” You barely managed to get out, your own hands in his hair and he fucked you with little restraint. The sound of skin slapping against each other was enough to send your nerves tingling but then he took hold of your jaw, making you look at him.

“I’m gonna make you come for each award I won and you’re gonna take it because I know you can.”

Before you could even think to reply to that statement, his hand danced down and started to circle your clit and he looked beyond pleased to see your back arch off the bed.

It was rough and you loved it. He always started off pretty sweet, gentle. But as time ticked away he always got lost in it, his mind slipping somewhere else and you were sure it was heaven.

One hand took hold of your hips as he started to yank you down onto his cock, the pace brutal and your nails sunk into his back as you let out a cry. The way he had one of your legs up and around him made the angle he was hitting feel like you were being struck by a tuning fork hitting a star.

“Michael—“

“Come for me, baby.” His voice was low in your ear and worked like magic as you did as told.

And you started again.

The next was you bent over with your face pressed into the mattress. He made you finish twice that way.

Then with you on top but you were hardly in control of the situation as he thrusted up into you.

You were a complete wreck with no sense of direction when his head was back between your thighs.

“I can’t—“ but then you did and you were crying and he was drinking up the sight.

Barely giving you any grace when he carried you to the shower, though he was slower to give you a little breathing room, his fingers found their way back to fucking you eventually.

Lucky number eight he didn’t even have to touch you.

His hands were wrapped in your hair and he thrusted into your mouth and the sight of him with his head thrown back as he came down your throat was enough to send you over the edge.

The air smelt like sex and sweat and you were half conscious as his hands rubbed circles into your back.

“I think I got a little carried away,” he said up to the ceiling before peeking down at you. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, half way into slumber and held onto him tighter.

“I loved it.”

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was him kissing the top of your head.

Sloppy, hot kisses placed on the underside of your slacked jaw made it hard to concentrate. Your pout deepened each time he bottomed out—your eyebrows could almost replace your eyelids with how low they drifted.

“Oh—oh! You make me feel so so so so good, ‘my gosh, Zoro!” You were starting to lose yourself in pleasure. Second by second your sentences trailed off into mindless babbling that had your boyfriend grinning from ear to ear.

Shared juices pooled between your trembling thighs, dripping slowly towards the creaking springs of the aged mattress. If he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, muttering sentences that’ll definitely make you heat up in the face when brought up later, then he was moaning aloud, his sounds meshing seamlessly salty sea breeze that swallowed you whole. When he became this needy, his unapologetic ways were the talk of the night.

“Yea? I bet I do. ‘Can barely feel you, this pretty pussy is drownin’ me.”

“Mmm! Mmm! Sorry. M’sorry, Zoro.”

Yeah. You’re gone. “Don’t apologize for missin’ me, Pretty Girl.”

You nodded, your manicured fingers wrapped tight around your ankles, occasionally cradling the soles of your feet, earning praises from above when you pulled them back further. Further. And further. Your flexibility always amazed him; it’s how you were able to bend in the most difficult positions that’ll make him tap out if performed on him.

“You’re so deep!” Your whines curled tightly into his lingering moans—strangling tightly like a starving Boa.

“Mhm. I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?”

His golden earrings rings created a low hum, each sway of his hips creating a custom jingle. The tips of his forest colored hair dripped sluggishly with lukewarm water from his earlier shower, the water ultimately pooling between the weight of your rocking tits. You nodded once more as your face grew warmer from his lingering stares.

“You’re doin’ so good, Pretty Girl. So fuckin’ good,” Oversized canines flashed in darkness as he grinned. You replied in another whiny tone when his hips broke through his previous set rhythm. The obnoxious squish followed by your pussy farting had you looking down in pure horror, only to find Zoro’s entire cock drenched in a milky white trench coat.

“Oh m-my gosh.”

“Told you. Ya’ soakin’ me.”

The lower half of his happy trail mirrored your landing strip: matted with creamy love. A mixture between spit and mixed cum coated you both in a laminated mess, glimmering dimly under the moonlight.

“‘Member when you could only take half? Hah!—Now my Pretty Girl takin’ the whole. Damn. Thing!”

Zoro peppered kisses along the sweaty bridge of your nose, gliding up slowly until he left a trail of love to your furrowed brows.

“Gonna’ get wrinkles if you don’t stop that.”

You think you’re worried about what your face looks like right now? He’s handshaking you from the inside—touching places that you didn’t even know lingered deep beneath the surface—the last thing you were thinking about was your wrinkles.

Deep breaths hesitate from escaping the comfort of your lungs. Tear brimmed eyes shielded by the heaviness of your eyelids and tear filled full lashes. Even though you were incapable of responding with words, Zoro knew exactly what you were trying to convey back to him. Not a single inch of his manhood went untouched by your warm, creamy embrace—somehow digging deeper with every thrust.

“You’re about to cum again, huh? Yea you are, I see written all over that pretty face.”

You were in fact about to cum—soak him, actually. Again.

Your fingers quickly untangle from your ankles and find comfort on his shoulders that tripled in size since his two long years in the shadows. He was hot and heavy against your chest—his breathing erratic just as yours was.

“Love you. Love you somuch!”

Absence definitely makes the heart grow fonder—and your pussy noticeably wetter.

From the moment you stepped from the ship you were on a mission to locate your boyfriend and fuck him silly—sea legs and all. For a split second you didn’t even recognize him, his frame wider—his scowl meaner. He walked with a type of confidence that made everyone stop and stare. His open yukata created a deep V, down his heavy chest, showcasing the discolored scar that decorated his toned torso. A dark green jittoku haori swayed gently in a breeze that carried his scent directly to you.

That can’t be him. Can it?

You had your doubts until you heard how he reacted to seeing Sanji. Their bickering started the second they made eye contact, making the townsfolk glance over in horrified confusion. Their yelling crossed over the rippling sea farther than any ship could travel.

The ship's reunitement was short-lived. The moment you all boarded the Thousand Sunny, Zoro couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He wasn’t one for public affection, but he’s waited two years.

Two years too many.

“I need to feel you,” his words fanned across your ear making you squirm under his embrace. He was moist and warm with his towel hanging on by a thread around his thin waist. Not even in your shared room for more than ten seconds—suitcases still packed to the brim, begging to be unpacked, and you were pinned on the wall like decoration.

“Come take me, please,” you’d be lying if you didn’t pick up on his sudden energy shift. His hunger for you was hard to contain, peeking through when his quick pecks turned into deep makeout sessions. You felt the heaviness of his cock through your his pink towel—you stroked what you could through the rough material, earning deep grunts of appreciation. Zoro humped at your palms while feeling for cavities with his tongue, “Missed you so fuckin’ much.”

“‘Missed you more, Zoro.”

You were breathless—head dizzy, damn near seeing double, while your body moved without control. The soft thud of the towel hitting the wood was ignored by your ringing ears. Your soaked panties were crawling midway down your thighs before Robin’s voice broke through the walls.

“Put a cap on it love birds! Dinner is ready!”

Zoro’s movement stiffened and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the defeat in his face. “‘Hate this place sometimes.”

“Aww don’t be like that, Zo’. They missed us. Don’t be the Grinch.”

“‘Grinch because I want to spend time with my woman?” He muttered to himself as he picked up the towel that was dropped without remorse. You on the other hand rushed to the bathroom, cleaning up any remains of the make out session. He followed behind seconds later—his heavy head tucked between his shoulders.

He was trying to make you feel bad.

“Pick your face up, Baby. We have all night to love each other. I’ll even do that thing you like.”

His dark, thin brows rose to his hairline, “The thing with your tongue?”

“Mhm!”

Dinner was eventful. Everyone had their stories to share, their scars to show off, their battles to brag about and yet, Zoro’s attention was set on you. Sake pooled at his lips with every swig—his heavy, pink tongue chasing after the abandoned alcohol. Even with a single eye, his gaze held the sights of millions.

Overlapping chatter and the scratching of metal against vintage porcelain and still you heard the heavy thud of your heartbeat. You shifted in your seat—your fork poking at some poor sea creature Sanji decided to experiment with.

The soft thud of the glass hitting the table top was the last thing you heard before you were suddenly in the air and balanced on his broad shoulder.

“Dinner’s over. Good night,” your sudden dismissal didn’t shock the crew at all, in fact, Nami was collecting berries around the table from the bet they all placed earlier that day; to see how long you and Zoro could go without having sex.

The moment the door clicked shut he was on you like white on rice—sucking, kissing, biting anything that was in his line of sight.

“‘M not holdin’ back.”

“Don’t.”

Round after round, orgasm after orgasm—his dick stood tall, the only difference is it was getting wetter after every round.

His hands traced invisible lines up your trembling thighs, past the underside of your knees to your ankles—where he pinned them. Suddenly he dropped his hips with so much force the bed started to shift in the direction he was humping.

“O-ooh! Z-Z’ro!”

Your body was angled just right to where he was hitting that spot just inches away from your cervix. Zoro nipped at your throat before quickly chasing it with kisses, almost like he’s remembering he has to be gentle.

“Don’t stop, hhmp! Zoro… right there!”

He hummed, his warm tongue tracing over the bulging veins in your neck, “Wasn’t plannin’ on it, Love.”

You felt the ship sway with the aid of your boyfriend’s strokes—the realization making him grin arrogantly. One thing you did notice is that his stamina definitely increased, usually he’d be approaching his last rounds but with how energetic he felt, he could go for days.

“Give it to me, Baby. You’re goin’ to let me have it?”

You started to reply—only for all of the air to be sucked out of your lungs in a matter of milliseconds. A sudden stream of tears flowed to your ears as orgasm fully took over. Your breathing stopped completely, almost you were frozen in time. The feeling was so intense—your vision blurred into black and white dots while a high pitched ringing noise flossed through your eardrums.

Still, his hips kept moving. Each time he pulled out, a steady stream of your wetness was chasing after him so desperately.

“Yeaaah, there you go. My pretty girl.”

Then—you found your voice—only to let out the loudest moan of the entire night, “Ooo fhuck meee!”

Your fingers raked at his soaked abs, desperately hoping to slow him down so you could properly function. He eventually took the hint—his hips slowing down until he was just sitting inside of you.

“That was a big one. Biggest one you had since… ever.”

He trailed kisses along your calfs that were still shaking by the revolutionary orgasm. Your chest heaved heavily as you tried to catch your breath that was just out of reach.

“I feel so floaty, ‘Noa. Hold me, please.”

The slight wobble in your bottom lip and urgency in your tone had his eyebrows folded in concern. His warm embrace washed over you like the sea you’ve become accustomed to. It wasn’t uncommon for you to cry after sex—hell, Zoro would be concerned if you didn’t. It was the call of his first name that had him hooked. He only heard it from you when you were swimming deep in crashing waves of emotions.

“‘Missed you s’much,,” You whispered in between sobs, “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again. Ever.”

“Hey hey, look at me,” his thumb chased after the hot, heavy tears that were booking it around your face. You leaned into his palm—even peppered kissed across the rough, warm flesh. “If you think you’re leavin’ my line of sight, then you have lost your mind. I’m never leavin’ you and you’re never leavin’ me. I can promise you that.”

You nodded, bottom lip still trembling, “Promise?”

But it had heated up the moment the crew had stopped at the Baratie, the moment you had sat down at that restaurant table and Zoro’s free hand had rested on your thigh, squeezing the fat there, eyes looking elsewhere like it was the most normal situation ever. You hadn’t said anything about the touch, but thoughts about his hands on your body had run through your mind. Thoughts of his lips on your skin, his fingers curling inside your warmth, his cock nested deep inside you.

And when you thought this could keep going for weeks, he had to be dumb enough to have a death wish with Mihawk. You thought if Zoro was about to die later, he could at least get a sample of what he’ll be missing forever. But there was no way you’d let him be in control after being so dumb—and so, the both of you were locked in his room, his hands tied by thick ropes and up above his hands. Sweat covered his forehead, grunts and groans leaving his mouth as you bounced up and down on his cock.

It had started with a little argument, some sarcasm on his part, as always. Fingers tugging on hair, lips crashing against lips, hands groping your tits, his shirt flying away before you turned the situation to your advantage. 

He tugged on his restraint again, like it would suddenly break and let him free. His dark eyes were focused on your face and the expression of pleasure that decorated it. His voice was strained as he finally spoke. “Fuck, come on, I got it. Untie me, yeah?” He groaned as you lowered yourself down on his cock again, the wetness of your cunt coating his shaft, dripping down to his balls, sticking to both your skins. 

Your hands pushed on his bare chest, stabilizing yourself as your hips rolled on top of his own. Squelching noises made the movements more perverted and icky, but that didn’t make you stop at all. You shook your head at Zoro, a heat in your lower belly when his tip hit your sweet spot. “No—No, you don’t deserve it. You were stupid.” You voiced at him, before throwing your head up to the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in pleasure. 

His hips jerked up when yours lowered, skin slapping skin and his shaft hitting deeper which made you moan out his name. Your nails scratched at his torso, leaving red marks on his tan skin, before one lifted to tug on his short green hair, making him hiss, his throat now bare for your liking. His earrings created little clicking noises that mixed with the whines coming from your throat. Curses escaped his mouth, his thighs shook under the weight of your body as you fastened your riding. “How am I supposed to make you feel good if I can’t touch you?” You heard him say, and you chuckled at his words, shaking your head.

“I can make myself feel good, Z, I just have to use you for that. Besides, it’s your punishment for being stupid and thinking you are stronger than Mihawk.” A strong jerk of his hips up made you gasp, his bulbous tip hitting your cervix which made you moan out his name loudly. Your pussy clenched around his cock, the length dragging in and out of your gummy insides. You could feel the veins twitching, the pre-cum flowing out of his pretty tip to mix with your juices, the way your ass slapped down on his balls when you lowered yourself.

The swordsman tugged on his restrain once more, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he felt you suck his cock inside your tight little cunt, creamy white come around the base of his shaft; so pretty, so dreamy. “Come on baby, let me touch you.” He groaned then, eyes half-lidded from the pleasure but you only chuckled once more and shook your head at him. You bounced faster, feeling his tip rub against your sweet spot so deliciously.

Zoro wasn’t one to beg for anything or to anyone, but at that moment, the pleasure was almost torture. He wanted to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingers, to make you bounce down on his shaft.

You loved the tone of his voice as he did beg to be freed from the ropes, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of touching you. You didn’t want to think about the fact that he could clearly lose his fight with Mihawk and die; no, you wanted to think about him coming back to you and how he could tease you the same way you were teasing him. It would be only fair. 

Zoro gasped as you rolled your hips to a new angle, velvety walls sucking him in, your wetness coating all his length and down to his bush. Your hands moved backward, resting on top of his knees as you bounced faster and harder, your ass slapping down on his thighs.

“Fuck, fuck—Come on, good girl, that’s it.” He praised, even if unable to touch you like he wanted to, even if he didn’t have the power. His dark eyes lowered to where his cock met your cunt, his thoughts in shambles at the view of the mess you created there. Your wetness coating his pubic hair, making them glisten with your essence, showing how good you felt.

You rolled your hips, sweating and panting, warmth coursing through your body at the slightly new position. “Z, fuck, it feels so good.” You moaned at him, eyebrows furrowed when your eyes met his own. Zoro couldn’t help himself from jerking his hips up to meet your movements, letting his cock slam inside your insides. Your juices dripped to your inner-thighs, slick and sticky, coating your skin. The green-haired man beneath you nodded, his eyes closing for a second or so just to open again and look at you.

“Feels good like that, uh? You like riding me?” He asked, smirk back on his face.

You almost wanted to stop, remind him that you were the one in control and he didn’t have the power to speak like that; but who were you kidding? So you nodded, biting down on your lips, hips slotted down against his pelvis and his cock nested all the way inside you. Your clit rubbed against his bush, bringing another wave of pleasure inside you, making you moan. His hair tickled against your wet skin. “Yeah, t’feels good…” You only replied, too busy pleasuring yourself at that moment.

“Don’t stop then, let me see how good you can make yourself feel without me touching you.” He added, jerking his hips up against yours once more, his tip hitting that sweet spot at the entrance of your pussy. Your hands were clammy on his knees, your grip tightening as you started to bounce again, rolling your hips forward so your clit would rub and hit against his bush. Moans escaped your mouth, eyes focused on his face as he nodded and praised you quietly. “That’s my girl, come on baby. Bet that feels good, uh?” 

For one little second, you swore at yourself: that should have happened way before. If only you both had acted up on those feelings and tension instead of walking around it without saying anything. Zoro could die and he could have left without knowing how you truly felt for him.

A warmth coursed through your lower belly again, your pussy clenching around Zoro’s cock, keeping him there so snuggly. He hissed at the feeling, muscles taunting as he tugged on the ropes again, but never able to break them. His head rolled to look at the wooden ceiling for a moment before his dark eyes met your face. Your thighs burned from the efforts of riding him and he must have realized, his hips now rutting upward to meet yours, his tip rubbing your g-spot continually. 

You moaned, hands flying to rest on his chest once more, hips bouncing to write your name onto his cock. Loud noises of skin slapping skin echoed in the room, followed by the squelching of your wet pussy filled by his shaft.

“Zoro, m’bout to come… Fuck!” You whined, and after those words, you fastened your pace on top of him. Zoro groaned, feeling your juices sticking to his balls and dripping all the way down to his length to pool at the base. He just moaned for a beat or two, before speaking. “Come on my cock, come on—show me how good you feel, sweet thing.” 

Those words were your undoing, and you gasped loudly when your cunt clenched around him, sucking him dry. Your thighs shook around his hips, your pace uncoordinated, warmth coursing through your entire body. You could hear Zoro praise you, but a buzz in your ears made you unable to understand his words. Your nails scratched the skin of his bare torso, muscles convulsing as you came on his shaft, making a mess with your juices. Your essence leaking down to his base, glistening against his bush—your clit throbbing from the rubbing you had done too. 

But your hips kept rutting, searching for more, trying to bring Zoro to his climax too. Your walls squeezed him tighter, and he hissed as you bounced up and down, more lazily. “Move baby, I’m about to—” He groaned and you nodded, sweaty and out-of-it. Your hips lifted up, his cock slipping out of your wet warmth in a loud-pop at the same time he came.

A loud groan left his mouth, thick ropes of creamy and hot white semen flowed to hit his lower belly and chest, his cock hitting back on his belly, twitching.

You sighed, watching his semen decorate his own skin, before gently sitting back on his thighs. Zoro took a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at you. “Fuck. Are you going to untie me now, sweet thing?” He smirked, tugging on his restraints for a last time before you chuckled, nodding your head at him.

You moved, hands carefully undoing the ropes from around his wrists. The swordsman immediately rubbed at the raw skin there, humming quietly at the feeling before his dark eyes met your orbs. He didn’t speak for a second before his strong hands groped at the fat of your hips, bringing you closer as he sat up.

“You know, the floor isn’t very comfortable for that kind of activity.” He joked, rolling his shoulders, the muscles of his biceps bulging. You hummed at him, before replying. “What? You want to try the hammock, next time?” Zoro acted like he was thinking about him for a beat or two before nodding his head, looking away.

“So… You’re saying there will be a next time?”

“If you survive Mihawk, why not?”

“That’s a deal, baby.” 

A warm day on the Thousand Sunny, rare species of bird fly overhead the Straw Hat crew. The blistering heat had the whole group sprawling on the deck.

Sanji’s cold beverages long since depleted with ice melting and the refreshing fruit had been stolen by the captain’s greedy stomach.

The hot sun combined with the little to no wind called for a new pair of shorts to go with your pink tank top. The black short shorts that fit from below your navel to an inch below your hip bone left little to none to the imagination.

But who cares you thought? It was sweltering outside and the crew was family. And the best part? Each cheek was adorned with a pair of rhinestone skull and crossbones.

Sliming the fabric down with your hands as you walk across deck to Nami and Robin, who’re both fanning themselves with some ornate pairs from a recent island you came across.

Zoro was lifting some weights near them as Chopper, Usopp and Franky sat on the railing with fishing poles. Sanji and Brook were somewhere on board.

“Ooh, meow girlfriend” Nami purrs at you. Robin simply observes your outfit and raises a brow with a small smile.

“Oh stop Nami I’m melting out here, no better than Sanji’s refreshments” you laugh deciding to stand beside them as they sit on stools.

“Very nice my dear friend but don’t let our dear cook see you like that I’m afraid we may run out of gauze before Chopper can stop the bleeding” Robin coyly adds in. We all giggle at that with suddenly the air shifted, so slight most wouldn’t have noticed it.

“Y/NNNN! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU EVERYWHERE!!” A voice calls from above, the three ladies below look up just in time to see their captains extended arm swinging his body down the mast.

Suddenly you were crashed into, Luffy’s arms wrapped tightly around your midsection.

“Hi honey,” you say softly as you pet his head in appreciation. Your captain and lover helps you up off the floor, never once his focus leaving your eyes and he begins to ramble.

“Can you believe this heat? It’s soo hot I feel trapped in 2nd gear. I wish I could go swimming that would cool me down, oh wait there’s the ocean one sec.” And suddenly he’s overboard.

“OMG LUFFY WHAT” you say grabbing his foot just in time, his body bouncing up and down like a yo-yo. “YOU CANT SWIM”

Helping him up you notice his head got dipped, oh well at least he’s cooled down a little. “Oh yeah I forgot, at least I have you!” He smiles that giant smile, the one where his lips reach his ears, so boyish but sure of himself at the same time.

“At least you have me” you repeat looking down at your shorts to assure they didn’t get ruined in your noble save.

“Ooh nice shorts y/n” Luffy says grabbing your hips, “soft” he murmurs lightly.

“Thanks babe they’re new!” You say sweetly turning back to Robin and Nami who’ve been watching the exchange between you and the beloved captain.

Both girls have small smiles looking at you, when out of no where you hear another yell.

“WHOA Y/N” your captain says when his hands suddenly are back on your hips. “What? Baby? Bend over you got something on your butt!” His arm is suddenly pushing you down over the table Robin and Nami are sitting at. “LUFFY!” you scream red in the face but your captain is none the wiser to the kind of position he forced you in. “They’re my shorts! You gum-gum head!”

Your protests do nothing to stop him manipulating your body into a familiar pose.

Luffy’s hand are clasped tightly over your hips, your torso is arched, chest pressed against the table.“Ohhh, oh, ooh baby you have little jolly roger’s on your butt! That’s cute!” Still none the wiser to the kind of situation you both are in, he leaned his face lower and closer to your cheeks. He was now eye level with your junk, you knew you should have put a pair of underwear on but were worried about the lines. Hands still tightly holding onto you and the worst part? Almost the entire crew was watching you.

Nami and Robin being the closest witnesses sit quietly stunned, Robin had her hand over her mouth attempting to not laugh at your and your boyfriend obliviousness to PDA and acceptable behavior. Nami’s eyebrows are still raised and her eyes show amusement at your humiliation.

Zoro paused his set, eyes wide looking at the compromising position Luffy had you in. Your tank top rising, the bend of your torso and both sides of your ass in the captains large hands.

Usopps face was bright red and not because of the heat. Franky pulled his sunglasses lower to get a better look at what was going on while Chopper just looked confused at what everyone was bothered by.

Luffy still mesmerized by the sparkles on your own ‘jolly roger’ hasnt noticed the audience while you attempted to pull away from his steel grip. “Um Lu?”

“Huh” he replied eyes locked on your backside still.

“Everyone’s looking at us” you told him trying to peel his fingers off of you.

“So what? Your shorts are cute, I like them, a lot. Bend over a little more, arch your back,” using one hand to move you how he pleases, “just like that. Yeah that’s my girl, I like the way you sparkle in the sun”. Okay now he’s trying to spread your legs, this is too much.

“LUFFY” you screamed finally getting his paws off of you as he attempting to continue to maneuver you.

“What? What’d I do?” He asks confused, he liked your shorts, liked the way you looked so he wanted to look at you. What was the issue?

His big brown eyes looked at you curiously while you shyly looked around you. “ You cannot touch me like that baby, not around the crew.” You whisper, mortified,

“Ughhhh but why, I like touching you.” He says casually with a pout, not helping your situation at all.

You might faint with the combination of the heat and Luffy’s unabashfulness.

A loud clang hits the deck.

Zoro dropped his weight still staring. “Captain.”

Usopp nearly falls over the railing into the sea below, “LUFFY NOT AGAIN?!” He wails dramatically like he’s been the one assaulted by the straw hat’s clueless leader.

Chopper is still innocently sitting, confused by everyone’s reactions. “Is this normal?”

“Nah this is SUPER weird bruh..” Franky responds, glasses still lowered to get a better look.

Below deck a sudden heartbroken scream erupted, Sanji’s ladies senses had apparently gone off. His echoes come through the hatch.

Nami’s faced twists into annoyance as she pinches her brow, “Luffy, I swear to-”

Robin’s hand still covers her face, “Ah young love.. so.. enthusiastic.” She smiles behind her hand.

Luffy’s still confused looking down at you, hands by his sides. “You’re my girlfriend?” like that explains everything. “I get to touch you all the time? When we sleep I wrap my arms around you, at dinner you feed me and at night you touch me when you-” He’s immediately cut off.

You slap your hands over his mouth, face even redder than before. “Yes, yes but there’s a time and place for everything!” You’re fuming, at this point you’re going to throw the shorts away the next time you can.

Luffy pauses. Actually pauses and stops for a minute.

Gears are turning.. Click!

“Oh.”

“Okay!”

His grin spreads across his face again, bright, with a hint of? Is that pride?

He stretches his arms behind his head like he didn’t just cause a full-deck crisis and starts walking away toward the other side of the ship.

You exhale shakily.

Crisis averted.

Probably.

Then-

His voice carries back over his shoulder, light and teasing.

“Come find me later.”

The words are innocent. The glance he throws you is not. Your stomach flips.

Zoro snorts, picking his weights back up. “Tch. You’re trouble.”

Nami fans herself dramatically. “I’m adding to your debt! You sickos!”

Robin’s smile deepens. “How exciting.”

You glare at all of them, but your pulse is racing, heat pooling low in your stomach despite yourself. Because Luffy might be loud, impulsive, and completely shameless…

But when he wants you?

He doesn’t forget.

And neither do you.

end.

Claimed or not, the clan did not want you. You were forced to find your own nectar from the canyon’s ant hive, and sleep at the very edge of the communal fire.

Training with Sukuna was an exercise in survival. He was a master who lacked the luxury of patience. If your stance was too wide, he’d sweep your legs out from under you with a grunt. If your aim with the longbow wavered, you’d feel a sharp smack against the back of your head.

“You aim like a hatchling,” he’d sneer, his secondary eyes tracking your every micro-movement.

“Maybe if my teacher wasn’t a giant grouch, I’d focus better,” you’d quip.

Sukuna would tut his tongue, a sound of pure exasperation. Whenever your mouth got too snarky or your focus drifted to the horizon, he had a habit of reaching out and giving your blue tail a firm, corrective yank.

“Ow! Watch the tail, Sukuna!”

“Watch the target,” he’d growl.

Despite the roughness, there was a hidden drug in his tutelage. Every time you managed to land a hit on his practice staff, or every time you successfully tracked a Sturmbeest through a sandstorm, he would go silent. He’d walk up to you, his massive hand clasping your shoulder, and mutter, “I am proud.”

Those three words were enough to make you work until your muscles screamed. You found yourself chasing that rare, golden approval more than you chased the comfort of the shade.

The fifth month brought the Tì’lan Sahru—The Sun Crossing—celebrating the knighting of two young hunters. The canyon was alive with the thumping of drums and the orange glow of a massive bonfire.

The clan, perhaps emboldened by the spirit of the night, or perhaps playing a prank on the “Sky Person”, kept pressing a carved gourd into your hands. It was filled with a fermented desert nectar that burned like liquid sun.

“Drink,” one young hunter urged with a rare, toothy grin. “It makes the soul light.”

By the time the drums reached a fever pitch, your soul was floating. You looked across the fire to see Sukuna. He sat on a throne of rock, looking every bit the terrifying Toruk Makto, his four arms crossed, gaze icy as he watched the dancers. He looked bored, untouchable, and utterly lonely in his power.

Fuelled by the drink, and a sudden surge of bravado, you stumbled over to him. The music faltered slightly as the clan watched.

“You’re being a buzzkill,” you announced, pointing a finger at his chest.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. “You speak with the tongue of a fool, Sawtute. Go rest before I decide your path is over.”

“No. You’re coming with me.” You grabbed his massive wrist, tugging with all your might.

A collective gasp went up from the Sah’rakaya. No one ordered Sukuna. No one touched the Rider of the Last Shadow with such disrespect. Especially not a Sky Person. 

Sukuna stared at your hand on his wrist, then up at your flushed, determined face. He tutted his tongue, that familiar sound of “I shouldn’t be doing this,” but to the shock of every warrior present, he stood up.

He allowed you to pull him into the center of the dance floor. You began a clumsy, swaying version of the Sah’rakaya ceremonial dance, laughing as you nearly tripped over your own feet. Sukuna caught you by the waist before you could fall, his hands large enough to span your entire middle.

For a moment, the fearsome warlord of the dune people was just a man, dancing in the firelight with the woman who had dared him. He let you lead, his eyes never leaving yours, a rumble of amusement vibrating in his chest that only you could hear.

Today, the heat was particularly oppressive. You were near the edge of the canyon, sharpening a spear. The shirr-shirr of the stone was interrupted by a sound that made the very air shake.

You looked up, squinting against the twin suns. The massive, orange-and-black wings of the Toruk blotted out the light. It circled once before tucking its wings and diving toward the ledge, landing with a bone-shaking thud, claws furrowing the rock.

Sukuna vaulted off the beast’s back. He was adorned with the dark tribal tattoos of a warrior-king and draped in the cured hides of desert predators.

“You are still out here,” he stated. “The sands are shifting. A storm comes, Sawtute.”

“I’m almost finished,” you said, standing your ground. You had learned early on that Sukuna only respected those who didn’t cower beneath his gazes. “The clan needs the spears for the hunt tomorrow.”

Sukuna stepped closer, his presence invading your space. He reached out, his four-fingered hand gripping your chin. His secondary eyes narrowed, tracking the pulse in your neck.

“The clan has hunters,” he growled. “I did not bring you into my shadow so you could cook your brain under the sun for the sake of others.”

“You brought me in because I knew the RDA’s flight paths,” you reminded him.

Sukuna let out a huff of dark amusement. “I brought you in because I chose to. Because I saw something in your eyes that didn’t belong to the demons of your world.”

He stepped even closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. His hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your queue.

“The war is coming to the red sands,” Sukuna whispered. “The machines think they can take this land.” He chuckled. “They have not met me. And they have not seen what I do to those who touch what is mine.”

Mine. 

“Sukuna,” you breathed, reaching up to touch the leather strap across his chest. “I am not a prize of your war.”

His hand slid down to catch your waist, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his body. “You are the only thing in this desert that doesn’t wither under my gaze.”

Your eyes widened. “What are you . . .” 

He tilted his head, breath hot against your ear. “Tonight, we go to the Spirit Tree of the Sands. We will make the bond, and you will no longer be a wanderer. You will be the Shadow’s heart.” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. All four of his burning with an intensity that made the sun look dim. His fingers touched his forehead, then pressed it to yours. “Oel ngati kameie.” 

I see you.

He turned, whistling to the Toruk, who lowered its head submissively. Sukuna extended a hand to you.

“Come,” he said, his expression softening just a fraction—a look reserved only for you. “The sky is turning purple. It is time to go home.”

 We will make the bond.

 We will make the bond.

 We will make the bond.

The words had chased you back to the edge of the camp, where you found Reya, a young huntress who had become your closest confidante after you saved her brother in the box canyon. 

“He wants to go to the Spirit Tree,” you blurted out. “Tonight.”

Reya froze, her ears twitching before a slow, knowing grin spread across her face. She dropped her knife into the sand. “The Great Shadow is finally taking a mate? This is good. The clan has whispered that he was made of stone, but you . . . you have found the heartbeat underneath.”

“I’m freaking out, Reya,” you whispered, pacing the small patch of shade. “I have no idea what ‘making the bond’ actually means. Back home, you go on a few dates, maybe get a coffee, call each other ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’. You don’t just go to a glowing tree and sign your life away!”

Reya tilted her head, looking at you with a mix of pity and amusement. “Dates? Coffee?” She let out a melodic laugh. “Your Sky People ways are like the mist—here for a moment, then gone with the wind. To bond at the Spirit Tree is to link your Tsahaylu to the heartbeat of the world and to each other. It is not a ‘test,’ Sawtute. It is a promise to Eywa. It is for life.”

The air in your lungs suddenly felt lost. “For life?”

“For life,” she repeated, stepping closer and placing her hands on your shoulders. “There is no breaking once the Shadow has seen you. And when your souls touch through the Great Mother, you are one. Forever.” She paused, her eyes searching yours. “Do you like him?”

“Yes,” you said, the answer leaving your lips without a second of hesitation. It was the truest thing you knew. “I like him more than I ever thought I could like anyone. He’s everything. He’s difficult and mean and arrogant, but when he’s with me . . . “

“Then what is the trouble?”

“I just—I wish we could just be, I don’t know, a couple first? See where it goes? I have a massive crush on him, Reya. I’d love for him to be my boyfriend, but ‘forever’ is a long time.”

Reya tutted her tongue, a sound so remarkably like Sukuna’s that it made your heart ache. She reached out and flicked your ear gently. “You must stop thinking as such. This is not the metal city anymore. You are Sah’rakaya. You breathe the red dust, you ride the wind, and you have caught the eye of the Toruk Makto. He does not do things halfway. He is the Shadow—you are either in it or you are lost in the sun.” She leaned in, her voice softening. “He has stood up for you against the elders. He has taught you to survive. He looks at you not as a ‘Sky Person,’ but as his equal. To ask for a ‘boyfriend’ is to ask for a child’s game. Sukuna Ryomen is a king. He is offering you his world.”

You looked out over the shimmering dunes, the realization finally sinking in. There was no “dating” the Rider of the Last Shadow. You either belonged to him, or you were a stranger.

“I’m Na’vi now,” you murmured to yourself. 

“Yes,” Reya smiled, picking her knife back up. “Now go. Wash the silt from your skin. If you are to stand before the Great Mother tonight, you should not look like you just crawled out of a sandstorm.”

Reya spent the next hour transforming you. She brought out a ceremonial garment of deep crimson desert silk, draped with intricate bone beads and the iridescent scales of a mountain banshee. Your hair, usually braided tight for combat, was left loose and straight, falling down your back like a curtain of midnight. It felt strange—exposed—but when Reya stepped back, her eyes widened.

“You look like the horizon at dusk,” she whispered. 

When you emerged from the tent into the central plaza, the bustle of the clan came to a sudden, grinding halt. Sukuna stood by the massive, shifting form of the Toruk. The great beast let out a huffing sound, its orange wings casting a long shadow over the sandstone floor.

The elders were gathered there, their faces etched with the skepticism of centuries. Sukuna, however, didn’t look at them. All four of his crimson eyes were fixed on you. The lethal tension that usually lived in his shoulders seemed to settle into something possessive.

As you approached, your heart thudded a frantic beat against your ribs. Sukuna stepped forward, his gaze raking over your loose hair and the silk that clung to your frame.

“You do not look exhausted tonight.” It was the closest he had ever come to a public compliment. He turned to the crowd, his voice booming as he addressed the clan. “Behold! Tonight, the Great Shadow takes its heart. We go to the Spirit Tree to make the bond.”

You felt a deep heat rush to your cheeks, an embarrassed blush that made Reya giggle from the sidelines. The bluntness of his declaration was so uniquely Sukuna—no flowery prose, just a claim of ownership that left no room for argument.

“Toruk Makto,” one of the elder warriors cautiously stepped forward. “Are you sure? She is still of the Sky People in soul. The bond is for eternity. Once the Tsaheylu is made, there is no turning back.”

Sukuna’s expression didn’t flicker. He looked at the elder with a cold, terrifying certainty. “My word is written in the stone of this canyon. I have seen her soul, and it is more Na’vi than mine. I am sure.”

The elder bowed his head, silenced by the absolute authority in Sukuna’s tone.

He turned back to you, and reached down, his massive, scarred hand offering yours a lift. He helped you onto the broad, muscular back of the Toruk, his touch lingering on your waist. Vaulted up behind you, his large chest pressing into your back, arms coming around you to take the reins.

“Do you wish for this?” he whispered into your ear. “To be bound to me?”

You looked back at him, seeing the king, the teacher, and the man who had wiped away your tears. You smiled, a genuine, radiating warmth that finally matched the ‘sunshine’ he claimed to see in you. 

“Yes,” you whispered back. “I want you, Sukuna.”

With a deafening screech that sent the desert birds scattering, the Toruk beat its massive wings, and you were launched into the purple twilight, soaring toward the glowing heart of the Great Mother.

The flight was a blur of violet skies and whistling wind. You leaned back into Sukuna, feeling the thump of his heart against your spine. You tried to boost yourself, whispering mental mantras to keep your hands from shaking. I am Sah’rakaya. I am not a demon. I belong here.

The Toruk began a steep descent into the desert highlands, banking toward a massive, hidden opening in a sandstone mesa. As you entered the cavern, the temperature dropped instantly, replaced by a humid, electric energy that made the hair on your arms stand up.

“Look,” Sukuna whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

In the center of the vast cavern stood the Rey’tanu Spirit Tree. 

It was unlike anything you had ever seen. While the trees of the forest were glowing willows, this was a fortress of life. The bark was as white as bone, and its leaves bloomed in shades of sunset orange and deep indigo. A pillar of intense sunlight pierced through a natural skylight at the very top of the cavern, illuminating the tree in a heavenly glow.

The roots were the most striking part—thick cables that looked like muscles, weaving deep into the solid rock of the highlands. You could see where they had pulverized the stone into rich, black soil, giving life to a garden of bioluminescent moss that carpeted the cavern floor.

Sukuna vaulted down first, then reached up to guide you down. He didn’t let go of your hand as he led you toward the white trunk.

“My father brought my mother here,” he said. “And his father before him. For as long as the Sah’rakaya have walked the sands, we have come to the Rey’tanu to remember who we are. Every warrior, every hunter, every child of the desert is woven into these roots.”

He stopped at the base of the tree, where the air droned with a low-frequency vibration. He sat down on the soft moss, his legs crossed, and tugged gently on your hand until you sat facing him. “You are nervous.” 

“It’s a lot of pressure, Sukuna,” you admitted. “Forever is a long time.”

“It is the only time that matters,” he countered. Reaching out, his hand cupped your cheek. He looked at the tree, then back to you. “Repeat after me, Sawtute. This is the prayer of the Sah’rakaya.” He began a low chant in Na’vi, his voice resonant in the cavern. “Eywa, Ma Sempul, oel ngati kameie.”

“Eywa, Ma Sempul, oel nati kameie,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

“Ngati,” Sukuna corrected. 

“Nahti.” 

He smiled helplessly. “I am the sand, and I am the shadow.” 

“I am the sand, and I am the shadow.”

“What is mine is hers, and what is hers is the world’s.”

“What is mine is his . . . and what is his is the world’s.”

Sukuna reached behind his head, bringing his long, braided queue forward. He looked at you, a challenge and a promise burning in his gaze. “Take it.”

You reached back for your own queue, your fingers fumbling for a second before you found the nerve. You brought the pink, glowing tendrils of your neural link toward his. 

As the ends of your queues met, the world exploded. 

The cavern vanished. 

The sounds of the desert faded. 

Suddenly, you were everywhere. You felt Sukuna’s pulse as if it were your own. You felt his pride, his jagged history, his fierce, terrifying love for you—all of it pouring into your mind like a flood of golden light.

You felt the scorching heat of a smaller sun on the back of a child’s neck. A young Sukuna, with his secondary eyes still wide and curious, played in the shadow of a father who looked like a mountain. You felt the pride of a boy who had just caught his first desert lizard, the warmth of a mother’s hand against his brow.

Then, the sky turned to fire.

The memory shifted to a cacophony of screams. A bone-deep vibration of the RDA “Dragon” gunships thundered down your spine. Through his eyes, you watched as the “Sky People” rained fire onto the Sah’rakaya camps. An agonizing, searing heat when he tried to reach his parents, only to be held back by the elders as the tent collapsed in a bloom of orange death. Half of his family—half of his soul—was taken in a single afternoon of greed.

The years followed in quick flashes of restlessness, back-breaking work of a boy who decided he would never be a victim again. He traveled across the vast oceans of Pandora, finding a wary respect with the Metkayina water clan, learning the patience of the reef. You saw him in the deep jungles with the Omaticaya, the forest people, learning to hunt in the vertical world. He worked ten times harder than any other warrior, driven by a cold, simmering rage, and a desperate need to protect the red sands that remained.

And then, the vision shifted to a more recent memory: the day he found you.

You heard his internal monologue, a low, rasping rumble in his mind. He had seen the “Sky Person” wandering the dunes, and his first instinct was to strike. He expected to see a monster, a soldier, another bringer of fire.

But as he descended on the Toruk, he had seen you.

She is so small, he had thought, a spark of confusion flickering through his hatred. She carries no metal. She has the eyes of one who has seen the Great Mother, yet she is lost. 

Through the bond, you felt the exact moment his heart had stalled. It was when you had looked up at him starving, dusty, and terrified, and hadn’t looked away. 

If I leave her, she dies, he had realized. If I take her, she may be a spy. But her soul . . . it tastes like the sunrise.

You felt the proprietary heat that had claimed him the second he touched you during that first interrogation. He hadn’t been trying to break you for information; he had been trying to find a reason to let you stay. He had been terrified that the elders would see only a “demon” and take you from him.

The link pulsed with a final, overwhelming wave of emotion: Sukuna’s unwavering gratitude that you had stayed. That you had teased him. Danced with him. Accepted him into your heart, into your soul. 

The vision faded, leaving you breathless. The connection was still there, a soft susurrate at the back of your skull. You pulled back, staring into four widened eyes, the pupils dilated from the sharing of souls. For the first time, the Toruk Makto of the sands looked completely, utterly vulnerable.

“You have suffered deeply,” he said at last. “I saw your life. The grief after your mother and father were gone. You learned to be strong as a child. To stand alone. You put your pain into the earth, into seeds and growing things, because the ground listened when no one else did. Still, you did not break. You kept walking. You kept growing. Even when your heart was tired, you stayed.”

Slowly, you reached out. Your hands, smaller and lighter blue against his bronze tattooed skin, framed his face. He leaned into your touch, his secondary eyes closing as he let out a shuddering breath.

You leaned forward.

First, you pressed your lips gently to the skin just below his eyes, over the dark markings that designated his rank. Then, you moved higher, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. 

Finally, your lips found his.

When you pulled back just an inch, Sukuna looked utterly bewildered. His ears flickered back and forth, and he tilted his head like a predator trying to decipher a new scent.

“What was that?” he rasped. “A scenting? A marking of territory?”

You couldn’t help but allow a small, bubbly giggle to escape your lips. “It’s called a kiss, Sukuna.”

“A kiss,” he repeated, the word clumsy on his tongue.

“It’s a Sky Person tradition.” Your thumbs stroke his cheekbones. “I want to use it on you every day. To make you feel appreciated. To let you know that you don’t have to be the Shadow all the time. Not with me.”

Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, the confusion melting into a heat that made your breath hitch. He wasn’t used to “appreciation.” He was used to fear, to obedience, and to duty. The idea of a daily ritual of affection seemed to spark something in his chest.

“Every day?” he asked. 

“Every day,” you promised.

“Then do it again,” he commanded, but it sounded like a plea of a man who had been starving for something he couldn’t name.

You smiled and leaned in again, teaching him. You showed him the slow press of lips, the way to let it sit, the way to breathe through the contact. Sukuna was, as always, a fast learner. He began to reciprocate, his movements becoming more confident, more hungry.

He let out a low, guttural growl of approval and reached out, his massive hands catching you by the waist. With a single, fluid motion, he pulled you into his lap, straddling his legs so you were flush against the planes of his chest.

His large hand tangled in your loose hair, tilting your head back. He didn’t go for your lips this time. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing a firm, scorching kiss against your pulse point. The sensation was a mimicry of the bond you had just shared, but entirely physical.

“My queen,” he murmured over your skin. “If this is your tradition, then the Sah’rakaya will learn it. But only for us. Only here.” He pulled back, eyes burning with a possessiveness that would have terrified you six months ago. 

Now, it just felt like home.

“Come,” he said, his hand sliding down to grip yours. “The moons are high. We have stayed in the shadow of the Mother long enough. It is time the clan sees that their King has finally found his sun.”

You hesitated. “So soon?” you whispered. “We haven’t even mated yet.”

Sukuna paused, all four of his eyes blinked in unison. “What are you saying, Sawtute? The Tsaheylu is made. Our queues have touched, and Eywa has seen our souls as one. The bond is complete. We are mated.”

You felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the desert sun. “No, Sukuna. I mean, I know the soul part is done. And it was beautiful. But for us—for Sky People—mating isn’t just a mental link. It’s physical. Shouldn’t we at least have . . . sex?” This was technically your wedding night, in some sense. 

Sukuna went completely still. He looked lost, his massive brow furrowing as he tried to reconcile his ancient traditions with the biological bluntness of your request. To him, the neural bond was marriage; the rest was just life. He had never considered that there was a separate, specific importance to the physical act in your world.

“Sex?” he repeated, the human word sounding strange coming from him. “You wish for the joining of bodies to be its own ceremony?”

You stood up, pulling him with you, and walked directly into his space until your chest was flush against his. You looked up into those yellow eyes, your own gaze dark with a new kind of intent. You didn’t use metaphors. You told him exactly what you were asking for—the absolute physical surrender of one to the other.

As you spoke, you saw the moment the realization hit him. His eyes glinted a crimson flash of hunger that you hadn’t seen since the first day he interrogated you. But this wasn’t for information. It was hunger for you.

“I see,” he said darkly. “Your people wish to feel the fire in the blood as well as the spirit.”

In a quick swoop, he eased you down onto the bed of moss. 

His hand brushed your arm, fingers tracing the glowing tattoos, and you shivered, nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your top.

Your bodies pressed together instinctively, the warmth of his chest against your breasts sparking a rush of arousal that made you throb with need. Sukuna cupped your face, his thumb grazing your lower lip. You parted for him, tasting the salt of his skin mingled with the night’s dew. He leaned in, his rigid cock rubbing against your thigh through his loincloth. Your fingers sought out the ridges of his back, digging into the old scars that charted his history you’d witnessed minutes ago. Each groove was a secret he was finally allowing you to read with your fingertips.

He reached for his neural queue, and let the tendrils brush against yours, the static electricity of the Tsaheylu causing a moan to escape you. A supernatural bond of this magnitude altered the very physical world around it, and time itself seemed to bend mid-arousal as your nervous systems became one.

He didn’t ask for permission as he gripped the hem of your thin top, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your ribs. He peeled the fabric away, exposing your chest. One of your hardened nipples met the graze of his thumb, the friction sending a jolt through the neural link that made your back arch and your toes curl.

He pulled down the waistband of your loincloth before tearing it away with a single, violent jerk. Your crotch was exposed for his admiration. “Look at you. Leaking like a wounded animal for me.”

Sukuna was already uncurling his own length, his cock—mesomorphic, bronze, and heavily veined—springing free. A massive, intimidating bulk, at least twelve inches of heat that pulses in time with his erratic heartbeat. He grabbed it, his hand barely able to wrap around the girth, and rubbed the flared, weeping head against your wet slit. 

“Are you prepared?” he asked. 

You parted your legs wide, catching the twitch of his ears. He was anxious, you could tell. It made him seem even more adorable. 

“Small thing of the stars.” Sukuna shoved his knees between yours, forcing your legs wider until your hips ached, his muscular thighs pinning yours to the dirt. “My cock does not seek the heart to kill, but the soft earth to plant the seed of storms.” He aligned himself, the blunt tip of his prick stretching your entrance wide. “Your cunt is a petal, waiting for the rain. I shall make it weep.”

He buried himself in one agonizing, perfect thrust, bottoming out against your cervix with a wet, heavy thud. 

He grunted, head snapping back as the muscles in his neck corded like steel cables. He began to move immediately, a brutal, pounding that sent vibrations through the neural link, amplifying every sensation of his thick shaft sliding in and out of your tight cunt. Every inch of you was being filled, his heavy balls slapping against your bottom with every shove. 

He lifted you by the waist, his massive bottom hands spanning your entire torso, while the top fondled your breasts. You wrapped your legs around his hips, heels digging into the small of his back. “Great Mother, you are a serene creature.” 

Sukuna thrusted upward with the force of a falling tree. He bit into the meat of your shoulder, sharp canines claiming you. The pace picked up, his thrusts becoming short, violent stabs. 

The fit was agonizingly compact, your walls stretching to the point of tearing as his girth displaced everything within you. The smell of your arousal, sweet like fermented nectar, mixed with his heavy salt-musk. 

His four arms locked you into a cage of muscle. The wet, slapping of his pelvis against your thighs—thwuck, thwuck, thwuck—was the only sound that matters. 

You could feel the heat of his seed building deep within him through the link, a mounting pressure that mirrored the compression of your own walls. “I’m close, Sukuna—fuck. God, I’m—ah!” 

Sukuna let out a guttural, animalistic roar, his entire body seizing as he delivered one final, soul-crushing thrust, his knot swelling inside you to lock you together as he began to pump his hot load deep into your womb. 

You both fell backwards. 

His chest collapsed onto yours, heaving against your breasts, the scent of your combined sweat and sex filling the small space. He didn’t pull away. Ragged, hot breaths fanned your ear as the aftershocks of the Tsaheylu continued to ripple through your shared nerves.

Sukuna lifted his head, his crimson eyes blown wide and glassy, and licked the sweat from your temple with a rough, sandpaper tongue. He rolled his hips one last time, a slow, possessive grind that forced a final, weak whimper from your lips. 

Long after the sighs of your breaths had faded into the cavern’s enclosure, Sukuna held you. He lay on his side, his arm draped over your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head. He seemed dazed, staring up at the patch of moonlight above the tree.

“Your traditions,” he muttered, sounding satisfied that bordered on exhaustion. “They are interesting.”

You smiled against his chest. “I told you I’d make you feel appreciated.”

Sukuna let out a low laugh. He sat up, muscles rippling in the moonlight, and reached down to help you dress in the crimson silks. He lifted you onto the back of the Toruk, sitting behind you once more. This time, as he wrapped his arms around you to take the reins, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your ear. 

“Now,” he growled softly. “Now we go. Now I will take my Queen home.”

The Toruk took to the skies, a massive shadow against the twin moons, carrying the Rider and his sun back to the red sands where a new era for the Sah’rakaya was about to begin.

Domestic life with Sukuna was a study in contradictions. By day, he was the iron-fisted leader. You watched from the shade of the main plaza as he dealt with squabbling hunters or planned defensive perimeters. He was harsh, scanning the horizon for a peek of metal machines. 

But the moment the flap of your private tent closed, the King vanished.

“Come here,” Sukuna ordered, sitting on a pile of cured Sturmbeest hides. He’d look grumpy, his brow furrowed as he looked over tactical maps engraved into clay tablets. But as soon as you moved toward him, his hand would snake out to catch your waist, pulling you into the space between his knees.

He had become addicted to your “kiss” tradition. He’d pull your face down to his, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he guided your lips to his forehead, his cheeks, and then his mouth.

“Again,” he’d whisper. 

One evening, you were trying to re-braid his hair, which was thick and difficult to manage. He was sitting on the floor while you worked, his head resting against your thigh.

“You’re being too quiet,” you poked him in the shoulder. “The elders were complaining about the water rations again. You were pretty mean to them.”

Sukuna clicked his tongue. “They are old and forget that the desert gives nothing for free. I have to be mean, or they will stop listening.” He turned his head, looking up at you with all eyes. “Do you think I am a monster today?”

“I think you’re a giant grump,” you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “But I know you saved the extra water for the nursery tents. I felt it through the bond. You can’t hide your soft spots from me anymore.”

His laugh was half-annoyance, half-amusement. “The bond is beginning to seem like a a curse,” he grumbled, though his hand was currently tracing lazy circles on your calf. “A man cannot even be a tyrant in peace.”

He reached up, pulling you down into his lap. He didn’t say it, but you felt his overwhelming affections. He felt the warmth of your skin, the smell of the vanilla-like desert blossoms in your hair, and the simple, quiet peace of having someone who didn’t fear him.

In the eighth month of your life with the Sah’rakaya, a different kind of project began to consume your time. You had salvaged a small pouch of Earth-variant seeds from your original survival pack—genetically modified “Sky Person” flora meant for extreme environments. But you didn’t have the soil to support them, until you remembered the black, rich earth you had seen pulverized by the roots of the Rey’tanu Spirit Tree.

Under the cover of dusk, you had been making trips to a secluded alcove, carrying small bundles of that fertile earth. You mixed it with the red silt of the desert and used a discarded RDA filtration mesh to capture the morning dew.

For weeks, it looked like nothing more than a pile of dirt. Sukuna had noticed your absences. He’d watch you from the ridges, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his Toruk circling overhead like a watchful gargoyle.

“You waste your time digging in the rocks,” he had grumbled one morning, catching you coming back with mud under your fingernails. “The desert does not grow what is not meant for it.”

“Just wait, Sukuna.” You wiped a smudge of dirt onto his cheek as you walked past. “I’m a scientist, remember? We’re good at making things grow where they shouldn’t.”

He yanked your tail, but let you be.

The morning the first bloom opened, the news spread through the camp faster than a sandstorm. It wasn’t just a plant anymore. It was a miracle of Terran biology.

You had managed to grow a variant of the “Desert Lily”—a plant with succulent leaves that glowed with a soft, pulsing blue light, but at its center was a vibrant, Earth-yellow flower that smelled of honey. Most importantly, the plant acted as a natural desalination, sweating pure, drinkable water from its stems.

Everyone gathered around the alcove, their tails twitching in disbelief. They had lived their entire lives fighting for every drop of moisture, and here was the “Sky Person,” coaxing water from the very stones.

Sukuna arrived last, the crowd parting for him. He looked at the lush, glowing green in the middle of his red-rock kingdom. He reached out a massive finger, touching the yellow petal that silenced the clan’s gossiping.

“It is Sky Person life?” he asked. 

“It’s both,” you explained, stepping to his side and taking his hand. “It’s a Terran seed, but it’s feeding on the dust of the Sah’rakaya and the soil of the Spirit Tree. It’s like me, Sukuna. It’s found a way to belong.”

You could feel his thoughts of shock, pride, and a deep, aching relief. He turned to his people. “The Queen has brought fire to the sand,” he announced. “But this fire gives water instead of ash. None shall touch this garden. It is a gift from Eywa through her hands.”

That night, back in your quarters, Sukuna was quiet. He pulled you onto his chest as the two of you watched the distant glow of your garden from the tent flap.

“I thought your world was only dark destruction,” he whispered, his large hand caressing your bare back. “I did not know it held such sunlight.”

“There was a lot of beauty there once,” you said. “I just wanted to show you why I was so stubborn about saving this place. To see that life is worth the struggle.”

Sukuna tightened his grip on you. He didn’t need to say anything else. Through the bond, you saw the image of that yellow flower burned into his mind—a symbol that the Great Shadow no longer had to be a place of only survival, but a place where things could finally, truly bloom.

But the peace of the garden was often interrupted by the reality of the war. As Toruk Makto, Sukuna was the shield of the red sands. He traveled often now, leading war parties to intercept RDA patrols that dared to venture too far into the highlands. His absences stretched for weeks, leaving you alone.

One morning, you woke up and felt different. 

It wasn’t the heat, and it wasn’t the exhaustion of the garden work. It was a pulsing energy deep in your core, as if the bioluminescence in your skin were boiling at a new degree. You stumbled out into the main camp, your hand pressed to your stomach, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

Va’leya, the spiritual leader, saw your distress from across the plaza. She didn’t say a word as she approached, her wrinkled hands reaching out to press against your abdomen. Her ears flickered, and a slow, grave smile spread across her face.

“The Shadow has left a seed,” she whispered.

Reya was at your side in a heartbeat, her eyes wide with joy. “You are with child! The King’s lineage continues!”

You were frozen, the news hitting you like a physical blow. You had always wanted a family—had dreamed of it even back in the gray labs of Earth—but the reality of it here, in a body that wasn’t technically your original one, in a world at war, was overwhelming.

Later that afternoon, Reya sat with you in the shade of the canyon wall, giving you the breakdown of what to expect.

“Desert folks carry differently than the forest clans,” Reya explained, her hands busy weaving a small sling from cotton. “Our children are forged in the heat. You must drink twice as much from your lilies, and Va’leya will give you red clay baths to keep your skin from drying as the belly stretches.” She paused, looking at you with a sympathetic wince, “you must be patient. Na’vi pregnancy is long.” 

“Long?” You gulped. “How—How long?” 

“You will carry this warrior for nearly a full year of the Great Mother’s cycles.”

“A year?” you shrieked, leaning your head back against the cool stone. “Reya, I’m already irritated and I’ve only known for five minutes! You’re telling me I have twelve months of this?”

Reya laughed. “The desert does not rush its treasures. It takes time for the bones to become as strong as the rock. But the child will be worth the wait.”

As the suns began to set, painting the sands in shades of bruised purple and gold, you sat by yourself at the edge of your garden. You rubbed your hand over the still-flat surface of your stomach, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest.

You were irritated by the timeline, terrified of the responsibility, and desperately lonely for the man who was currently miles away shedding blood for this land. But as you felt that tiny, ethereal spark through the bond—a life that was half-you and half-Shadow—a protective dome of warmth took hold.

“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?” you whispered to the silence. “Just like your father.”

You looked out at the horizon, wishing you could send a signal through the bond that would bring Sukuna home tonight. He didn’t know yet. The Great Shadow was out there, fighting for a world he thought was only about survival, unaware that his sun had just grown a little brighter.

Night had fully fallen over the canyon when the siren of the Toruk finally blared through the silence. A jagged, pained sound unlike its usual triumph. 

You rushed to the entrance of the camp just as Sukuna vaulted off the great beast’s back. He looked distraught, his brown skin smeared with dark blood that wasn’t his own. He was helping a younger warrior—Reya’s brother—who was clutching a mangled shoulder. Two other warriors carried a stretcher between them, their heads bowed.

“We lost three,” Sukuna growled. “The metal machines were waiting in the pass.”

The camp erupted into a mournful chaos, but Sukuna’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. Even through the blood and the soot, the ferocity of his gaze was staggering. 

He didn’t wait for a report. He didn’t wait for the healer. He marched straight to you, grabbed you firmly by the arm, and pulled you toward the private quarters.

He shoved the heavy hide flap shut, the sounds of the camp instantly muffled.

“Sukuna, I have to tell you—”

“Hush, woman.” He didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your shoulders, grip tight enough to be a bruise if you weren’t Na’vi. He leaned down, his crimson quartet eyes wide and searching, before he cupped your face in his hands.

“I felt it,” he said, forehead dropping against yours. “Two sun-cycles ago. In the middle of the canyon. A ripple through the Tsaheylu so strong it nearly paralyzed me. An RDA scout almost took my arm because my mind was suddenly occupied.” He pulled back to look at your stomach, then back to your eyes. “There is a second heartbeat. It echoes through the bond.”

You let out a breath of shock. “You sensed it? Already?”

“I am Toruk Makto,” he said, and for a moment, the grief of the battle was overpowered by sheer pride. He stood straight, his chest expanding as he puffed out with an arrogance that only he could make look attractive. “My blood is strong. Of course I felt the moment my seed took root.” But just as quickly as the pride appeared, it was replaced by a deep, simmering worry. He began to pace the small space, his tail lashing behind him. “But your body is no longer a Sky Person’s. You have never carried a warrior. You do not know the toll the desert takes on a mother.”

He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a guilty suspicion. You remembered the bitter-tasting nectar he made you drink after every night you spent together—a ritual he’d insisted on since the night you returned from the Spirit Tree.

“The drink,” you whispered, your eyes widening as the pieces fell into place. “That bitter tea thing. You forgot the morning before you left, didn’t you?”

Sukuna ears tucked down in shame. “It is an ancient root,” he confessed. “Used by the leaders of the Sah’rakaya to ensure a child is only born when the rains are plenty and the war is distant. I did not want to burden you with this while the machines still fly. I forgot the dose in my haste to reach the pass.”

So, Na’vi have their own contraceptives, huh? 

He stepped closer, his hands finding yours, thumb tracing the back of your palm. “That is why mating with the flesh results in this. The soul is one, but the body demands.” He looked at you with what you assumed was a pout. “Are you happy, my heart? Or do you hate the Shadow for his mistake?”

You stepped into his space, reaching up to pull his head down so you could press a loud kiss to his lips. “Mwah! I’m happy, big guy,” you said. “I’m happier you’re home. And I’m happiest knowing our child is going to have a father who’s too stubborn to die.”

Sukuna let out a long, shaky breath, the tension finally leaving his massive frame. He pulled you onto the sleeping hides, harms wrapping around you as if he could hide you from the world.

“He will be the strongest of us,” Sukuna vowed, his hand coming to rest over your stomach. “And woe to any machine that thinks to touch the sun or the seed it carries.”

By the fourth month of your pregnancy, Sukuna’s “training” had undergone a radical, frustrating transformation. Gone were the days of leg sweeps and head smacks. In their place was an iron-clad ban on anything more strenuous than walking to the garden.

“Put the spear down,” Sukuna growled one afternoon as he watched you trying to practice your thrusts against a training post.

“It’s a light spear, Sukuna!” you protested. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated.” 

He was at your side in a blur of movement. Instead of a usual yank to your tail, he simply plucked the spear from your hand and tossed it across the sand. “The sand is uneven. You will trip.” 

“I have been ‘straining’ since I landed on this rock! I need to keep my muscles strong for the birth!” You tried to reach for the spear, but he stepped into your path, his massive chest a wall of tan muscle.

“Va’leya says the mother must rest. I am the shield of this clan. I do not need my Queen in the dirt.”

“I am not your ‘Queen’ who sits on a rock and looks pretty, Sukuna.” Your hands landed on your hips. “I’m a Sah’rakaya warrior.” 

He gave you a no-nonsense look. Without a word, he reached down, tucked his arm under your knees, and hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of dust rocks.

“Sukuna! Put me down! You big, overbearing, buffoon—”

“Silence.” He ignored your protests, marching back toward the quarters. To the shock—and secret amusement—of the younger hunters, the terrifying Toruk Makto was currently being pounded on the back by his yelling wife. He only set you down once you were deep inside the tent, on the softest pile of skins.

“Do not move,” he commanded, his large hand cupping your chin, his thumb caressing your cheek to soften the blow. “If you are bored, I will bring you the clay tablets to study. But you do not touch a weapon until the rains come.”

You spent the rest of the day pouting, but you knew his overprotectiveness came from a place of deep-seated trauma. He had lost everyone once; he wouldn’t let even a pebble trip you if he could help it.

The fifth month brought a quiet, cool night. The desert wind was a soft whistle against the sandstone cliffs, and the moss in the tent cast a gentle, pulsing turquoise splendour.

Sukuna was resting behind you, his massive frame curled around yours. His hand splayed flat across the swell of your stomach. Lately, he had developed a habit of falling asleep with his palm right there, as if he were guarding the life inside personally.

Suddenly, you felt it. A sharp, distinct thump against the wall of your womb.

Your eyes flew open. “Sukuna.”

He was awake instantly, his secondary eyes snapping open. “What is it? Are you in pain? Is the child distressed?” 

“No, no. Just—stay still. Give me your hand.” You took his large hand and pressed it against the lower right side of your belly. For a few heartbeats, there was nothing—

Thump!

A tiny kick landed right in the center of Sukuna’s palm.

The fearsome leader froze. His ears stood bolt upright, then flickered back and forth in a state of pure shock. He let out a sound of soft, breathless wonder.

“He moved,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Thump-thump. The baby seemed to sense the warmth of his hand.

Sukuna’s entire demeanor crumbled. His eyes began to shimmer with moisture, and the hand that usually broke spears began to tremble. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against your stomach. 

“He is strong,” Sukuna whispered with such tenderness that it would have ended his reputation as a tyrant in a second. “He fights already. My little warrior.”

He stayed like that for an hour, talking to your stomach in low Na’vi, promising the unborn child the suns and the stars, while you ran your fingers through his hair, smiling at the “monster” who had been reduced to a pile of soft, protective mush.

Word of the Toruk Makto’s heir spread through the neural network of the Spirit Trees like a wildfire. A symbol of the desert’s permanence and the union of two worlds was being anticipated.

Soon, envoys began to arrive at the red sands.

From the Metkayina water clan came a group of riders on skimwings, bearing gifts of iridescent sea-glass and woven cloaks made of waterproof reeds that would keep the babe cool in the desert heat. They brought a gift of a rare, glowing pearl for the Queen, a sign of friendship between the reef and the dunes.

From the Omaticaya forest clan, a messenger arrived with a beautiful, hand-carved cradle made of Hometree wood, its surface etched with the history of the Great Mother. They sent bundles of soft, medicinal herbs to help with the birth and seeds for the Garden of the Moon.

The Sah’rakaya plaza was filled with the riches of Pandora, but Sukuna looked at the gifts with wariness. He accepted them on your behalf, standing tall with his arms crossed, his Toruk screeching from the cliffs above.

“They see,” Sukuna said one evening, looking over the piles of silk and bone-carvings. “They see that I am no longer alone. They bring gifts because they fear the father, but they love the mother.” He walked over to you, wrapping a Metkayina cloak around your shoulders. “But the greatest gift is already here.” His hand found your stomach again. “The desert has its future. And I have my sun.”

As the pregnancy entered its final months, the nomadic spirit of the Sah’rakaya began to shift. The physical toll on the Avatar body was strong. Carrying a half-Shadow heir for nearly a year made every step feel like walking through quicksand. Your ankles swelled, and the desert heat felt like a personal affront.

Sukuna, seeing your struggle, made a decision that shocked the elders. He ordered the construction of permanent sandstone structures around the Garden of the Moon.

“We stop running,” he declared to the clan assembly. “The child will not be born in a tent that can be folded by the wind. We will build a fortress. Let us make this canyon a place where the metal machines fear to fly!”

You spent your days sitting in the shade of the rising walls, helping Sukuna map out the irrigation from your lilies. You were the architect of their new home, and he was the muscle. Despite his grumpiness about your “Sky Person ideas,” he followed your designs to the letter, building a nursery that was tucked deep into the coolest part of the cliffside.

In the eleventh month, the peace was shattered. 

The RDA had finally pinpointed the Garden of the Moon. From their satellites, the bioluminescent bloom was a beacon they couldn’t ignore—a source of sustainable water and unknown biology that they wanted to catalog and exploit. They launched a multi-pronged assault. A decoy force of Samsons drew Sukuna and the primary war party out toward the highlands. You felt his adrenaline through the bond, the distance making you feel dangerously exposed.

“Oh, shit,” you whispered, looking up as the distant rotors reached the canyon. “They’re here for the nursery.”

With the able-bodied hunters gone, the defense fell to the elders and the mothers. You stood in the center of the plaza, your massive belly straining against your silks, a heavy bone spear in your hand. Sukuna would have killed you if he saw you, but he wasn’t here.

“To the nursery!” you commanded with a cold authority that mimicked Sukuna’s own. “Defend the Garden! If they burn the lilies, we die of thirst before the week is out!”

The RDA gunships descended, raining fire on the outskirts of the camp. But they didn’t expect the mothers of the Sah’rakaya to be waiting in the shadows of the rocks. 

You led them, using your knowledge of RDA tactics to predict their landing zones. When a squad of SecOps soldiers tried to breach the nursery, you slipped from behind a pillar, your spear finding its victorious mark that would have made Sukuna weep with pride.

The other mothers fought viciously, protecting their young with a madness that turned the sandstone red. You held the line at the entrance of your garden, refusing to let a single spark touch the lilies.

As the suns began to set, the battle reached a fever pitch. The smell of smoke filled the air. And then, the sky did something it hadn’t done in the dunes.

It darkened.

A rumble of thunder shook the canyon, and the first drops of a rare, miraculous desert rain began to fall. The cooling water hissed against the burning debris. 

At the same moment the first drop hit your skin, a sharp, white-hot pain tore through your abdomen.

You collapsed to your knees in the mud of the garden, your breath hitching. “Reya!” 

The RDA was retreating, broken by the defense and the sudden, blinding downpour that scrambled their sensors.

The Toruk had returned.

Sukuna leaped from the beast’s back before it even landed, sprinting through the mud toward the nursery. He found you surrounded by the other mothers, leaning against the white trunk of a desert lily as the rain washed the soot from your skin. You were in active labor, your face contorted in pain. 

“You fought?” Sukuna gritted out, dropping to his knees beside you, his eyes wide with horror as he saw the fallen soldiers near the entrance. “I told you to stay! Why do you refuse—”

“Shut up, Sukuna!” You gasped, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard enough to make his knuckles pop. “The baby—is coming. Now.”

He didn’t leave your side, shielding you from the wind as Va’leya worked. All he did was bark orders at his warriors to protect the plaza, and discard the human bodies. He controlled his anger towards Va’leya whenever you screamed, tail flicking wildly behind him. 

“She’s having trouble,” Va’leya said. “If there is an issue—”

“I choose my wife,” he said. Your eyes glistened with tears. His warm hand brushed your cheek. “You are my mate. My woman. Brave and beautiful. If you cannot push any further—”

“No,” you said breathlessly. “You forgot I’m also stubborn.” 

Sukuna, and the others, perhaps even Ewya herself, jolted as a loud cry ripped out of you. 

When the final push came, a sharp, healthy cry pierced the sound of the falling rain. 

Va’leya lifted the child. 

An uneasy silence fell over the clan members who had gathered closer now. You looked around, dazed and exhausted, seeing the way they whispered to one another, the way even Reya looked down at her hands, hesitant to speak. Sukuna simply gazed at the tiny life in Va’leya’s grasp, his four eyes wide and unreadable.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice cracking with sudden fear. “Why is everyone so quiet? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

Va’leya looked at Sukuna, then back to you. “The child . . . is a female, my Queen.”

“So?” you demanded, trying to sit up despite the throbbing in your lower region. You looked at Reya, who was avoiding your gaze. “Hello, what is the issue? Women can be mighty warriors, too. Look at the mothers who just held this line! They just saved the entire clan while the warriors were away. Is that not enough for you?”

Sukuna stepped forward. He wiped his massive, blood-stained hands on his leathers before reaching out for the child. The elders moved back, expecting a roar of disappointment. Instead, he took his daughter and lifted her high into the air, the lightning outside illuminating her pale-purple skin and the four tiny, sharp scarlet eyes that stared back at him.

“BEHOLD!” Sukuna’s voice boomed, shaking the very sandstone walls of the nursery. “The Desert has its pride! She is Nobara, the Strength of the Sands. My blood, my soul, and your future Queen.”

The silence broke instantly. 

The Sah’rakaya erupted into a deafening cheer that rivaled the thunder outside. The elders bowed their heads, their whispers replaced by chanting as the fear of a “weak” heir vanished under Sukuna’s absolute decree.

He knelt beside you, carefully bringing Asira to your chest. He looked debilitated, his secondary eyes fluttering with a strange, new emotion.

“I am surprised,” he whispered. He touched your baby’s tiny hand, which immediately curled around his massive thumb. “I expected a son to break spears. But she . . .” He looked at her with a worried gleam in his eyes. “A daughter is a good, but worried surprise, my heart.”

“‘Worried’?” You smiled as you looked down at Nobara.

“Yes,” Sukuna said softly, leaning down to press a rain-chilled kiss to your temple. “Now I must be extra cautious. If the Sky People thought I was a monster before, they have no idea what the Shadow will do now that he has a daughter to guard.” He wrapped his arms around both of you.

——

For months and months prior to that, it'd been the same thing between you and Sato.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me, baby. You know you’re my favorite,” He’d say, cooing you with that manipulatively charming voice of his after you’d asked him about yet another woman he was talking to.

You weren't sure why you kept going back to him. He never told you how he felt about you unless he was inside you—and even then you’re certain those feelings were all sex-based and moderately untrue.

Yet something about him kept drawing you back in.

And if you had to guess what exactly it was...

“Fuuck, y’like that don’t you?” He’d groan, having one big hand clasped around your throat as he plowed you into the mattress. Sato rarely ever took his time during sex, too eager to make sure you cum & keep up his reputation of being a good fuck. “Like the way my cock kisses that sweet spot, huh?”

The rhythmic sound of his pelvis smack smack smacking! against your ass echoes throughout the room at a pitch almost louder than your sapped moans. “Mhmm,” You'd hummed in response, fingernails dug into the bedsheets below.

You couldn't bring yourself to think about all the other women that's been in this same exact position before you when his cock was far too busy gliding in and out of your soaking pussy. The same sheets your fingers are clawing at is also clasped in between your teeth tightly, drool wetting up the fabric pathetically due to how good you felt.

Only to be rudely interrupted by his hand gripping at your neck tighter and then tugging the upper half of your body allll the way up—his chest pressing into your back while his dick massages the gushiest spot inside you. “Don’t do that,” Sato huffs with that shit-eating grin on his face, “Speak up, pretty girl. I couldn't hear you.”

“Uhuhh, yes,” You pant, tongue beginning to dangle out of your mouth all whorishly, “I love it, Sato.”

Cocky like always, he'd let off that amused scoff and then nip at your ear playfully, “Yeahh, I know you do. Jus’ can’t get enough of me.”

Thinking back again, he had the biggest ego you’d ever seen.

Sato was tenderly humping the rest of his thick cock into you while you were nice and close, just to realize after the first few thrusts that you were trying to inch yourself away from him—your moans getting airier by the second.

His smile widened, “Hah, where’re you goin’?” He'd only made you cum three times since the two of you got here. Surely that wasn't enough to have you acting like this already. “Look at you, trying to run from me now," Sato scoffed with faux bitterness.

You barely got a moment to process what he was doing before you choked.

Warm lips pressing against your ear, “C’mon, I jus’ want one more outta’ you,” He purred, his arm slow to wrap around your neck while his bulking muscles pressed into the center of your throat. Whatever oxygen was on its way to your head all but died out as the man put you into a bullying chokehold and then flexed.

Your cunt squeaked juicily around him and his cockhead nudged in deeper because of the hold he had on you, otherwise rendering your body unable to escape.

That was one of many reasons why you always ran back to him. If Sato Gojo didn't know how to do anything else right, he damn sure knew how to fuck.

“Mhmm, that’s it, baby." His voice was huskier against your eardrums now and you felt your body shuddering with a sense of numbness as something slicker oozed around his shaft. "Take that fuckin’ cock—juuust like that.”

His thrust became slower while he held you in place and you'd never felt so full in your life. It wasn't until he suddenly snapped up into you that all air left your lungs and your eyes crossed.

Whatever sound you let out was beyond pathetic and only followed by a desperate, “S’too much,” that he could barely hear.

Rolling his eyes, he repeated the motion a few more times at a steady pace, letting you adjust to being arched and folded up how he wants you. “My dramatic girl, acting like you haven't been taking it just fine," He reminded you.

You almost believed him for a moment there until his free hand came snaking around your torso to press against your lower abdomen—right over the bulge his fat cock had created against your skin—and applying an egregious amount of pressure.

“M’gonna cum, Sato,” You cried out as his fingers slithered down to nudge against your clit. Never a firm rub or anything like that since he felt like his cock alone was enough to work what he wanted out of you.

He’d smile all victoriously and whisper, “That's it? Don't tell me you're still too scared to squirt on me?”

Truth be told, that was the one thing he couldn’t do for some reason.

He never said anything but he thinks maybe you’re just one of those women who need a little more effort put into in order to make you squirt. More effort of which he damn sure doesn’t feel like putting in.

Four orgasms in a row? That’s fine, he can do that no problem. Making you squirt? As badly as he wants to deep down inside, he just can’t.

You ended up leaving a creamy mess around his cock but it's not the spurting stream of wetness he was hoping for. After letting you tremble out of your high, he's slow with the way he unwraps his arms from around you.

You fall forward onto the bed and let out a heavy breath before smiling wearily in relief. No other guy on campus ever managed to make you cum even once so of course you didn't think much of the fact that Sato couldn't make you squirt.

Hell, you were unknowingly on the same page with him—thinking you might've needed extra effort put in for that kinda release. Which was fine, you didn't need that much from him. The fact that he could make you cum back to back was more than enough in your book.

Not his though.

Sato hated it. He hated how he couldn't make you squirt—the fact burned at his ego and wounded his pride greatly. He's made other women do it so he doesn't understand what the problem is. There were some nights where he wondered if maybe he was doing something wrong with you. Or maybe you'd found someone else who could—

He unknowingly scoffs at his thoughts, shuffling out of the bed and swiping up the nearest clean sweats to slip into. Who was he kidding? There isn't one other person on campus you'd go to over him.

And if he couldn't make you squirt, he knows there's no one else that could.

Amid his deep thoughts, you happen to look over and catch the way those white brows of his are neatly knitting together. He didn't even realize how his true feelings on the matter were written all over his face.

Your eyes had ran over him a couple times, pondering on all the scratch marks in various places. Places that your hands haven't touched.

And that's how the routine was with the two of you; high tension all throughout the day, let him fuck you 'til all your senses went numb, and then fade into quietness with little to talk about since Sato doesn't deem it necessary to get close with you in that way.

When you catch the way he's dragging his feet around the room, trying to clean the mess of clothes you two made prior to getting in the bed, your brows lifts with curiosity. Asking gently, "Hey, are you alright?"

Sato hums without turning around to you, running his a hand through his hair as if stressed out. "Yeah, m'fine." He grunts, glancing over at you after and adding a slightly comforting, "Are you?"

You nod in response to him and he stares for a moment longer than necessary, still deep in his thoughts about something he surely wasn't sharing with you anytime soon.

Why would he? You didn’t need to know that he was beating himself up over something so stupid. He’s well aware that he’s the best guy to ever sleep with you so, opening up to you about something so trivial wasn’t in his character.

There’d been jokes and banter between the two of you before—obviously—but it never went any further than that. The moment things threatened to dip into something real, something more tender or honest, Sato would shut it down with quick precision.

Which is exactly why you didn't try pressing for more of this dry conversation. Instead, you silently watched him tug a shirt over his head and then head over to the nightstand for his phone.

He's busy texting someone for a bit before he releases a huff and turns his head to see the way you've been quietly watching him, "Did you want me to run you a bath or—"

"No, no, I told you, I'm fine," You unintentionally cut off.

You weren't sure where the awkwardness had come from but it wasn't completely unwelcome since there was clearly something he wasn't telling you. You saw it in the way he pouted all grumpily just before looking at you.

Whatever was on his mind had to be eating him up on the inside.

Not that the frown pushed you to ask him anything else though. You ended up turning over and rolling off is bed a few minutes later to gather your things and leave, to which he'd peacefully helped you with.

Then Sato escorted you all the way out of his maze-like home and was "kind" enough to give you a kiss on the forehead before sending you off.

Little things like that always caught you off guard. Your heart would do that weird thing in your chest as you wondered if there was a possibility of experiencing more than just hook-ups with the man.

Though, reality is quick to slap you back to your senses when you see him with his arm around some other woman the next day while on your way to class.

You knew better than to get emotionally attached to Sato Gojo. Everyone did.

——

Some days later is when shit decides to hit the fan between you two.

It happens so randomly that you almost feel as though you dreamt the whole thing up. The day starting with him texting you to come over that night and somehow ending with you in thwarted tears.

In all the time you spent with Sato, there'd never been a moment where he was blatantly selfish. Something of which surprised you in the beginning of your relationship since he was known to be a fuckboy.

Yet, ending up in his bedroom for the nth time, as his thumb rubbed at your clit with unsteady, jerky motions, appearing otherwise annoyed about something—Sato had been selfish for the first time with you.

Foreplay was skipped entirely and you should've known something was up from that alone.

The most you got out of him prior to being stripped of your clothing was a messy kiss and a barely audible, "Need somethin' from you, baby," grunted into your mouth.

Then you were being carried all the way up to his bedroom, handled frustratedly down into the mattress, and soon fucked at a rate you weren't used to.

His thrusts were sloppy and needy, voice quiet since he didn't bother talking you through it or saying anything at all, and the only thing with a sense of normalcy to it was the way his thumb nudged over your clit as his cock dove in and out of you.

Midway through, you assumed he just had a bad day or something. Figured he wanted to take some of that stress out on you.

And that wasn't out of the ordinary for him, it's happened more often than not.

But as his thumb drew desperate circles around your twitching bud, Sato's cock twitched and he pulled out the moment you were about to cum. You were too dazed by his abrupt action that you nearly missed the way he stroked himself into finishing on your stomach and then scoffed. Bitterly.

Your eyes were glossed over since the taste of your own orgasm had been right there on the tip of your nerves, stripped away from you faster than you could blink.

Whatever had been bothering him about having sex with you was felt before it was understood.

He was already turning away by the time you pushed yourself to sit up, the sheets gliding down your arms as you watched him with wide, teary eyes. The room felt ten times quieter than it normally did. You saw how he crossed the room as if nothing had happened—as if this was just another unremarkable moment to be shrugged off.

"Sato," You say, his name tripping in your throat on the way out.

Only then did he pause, fingers curled around his drawer handle. Not sparing you a glance back, "What." he breathed out.

It was hardly even a response, more of a wall you'd audibly stumbled into. You'd never heard his voice so dull and flat with you.

Swallowing down whatever confusing emotions were building up in your throat, "Did I, um... did I do something wrong?"

Somehow that gets his attention. He glances back over his shoulder then, expression insipid and eyes casting over you all bored-like. "Don't start that," He said, irritation weaving into his voice, "You're overthinking shit already."

Your mouth opens to say something but it's like you'd been slapped in the face, leading your lips to seal shut for a second. His words were too heavy for you, coming off with weighted dismissiveness.

After a few beats, your words trail out slowly, "Sorry I'm a little confused, Sato. You asked me to come over for that..?"

He exhaled sharply, like the question itself had tired him, "What else do I ever call you over for?"

Something shrewd twisted in your chest, "Certainly not whatever the fuck that was just now."

Sato finally turned more fully and leaned back against his dresser, crossing his arms and letting his eyes meet yours firmly. "You sound upset."

"I feel used," You'd snapped back immediately.

His brow twitched, "'Cause I didn't make you cum?"

Again, the words came off blunt and careless.

Leading you to flinch internally, "I mean—yeah," You said as a humorless breath tiptoed out, "You normally do."

"Well, I didn't feel like it today. M'spent." He scoffed out.

It was almost as if that was supposed to be an explanation for everything.

You stared at him and felt the way your disbelief began to fade into something of anger, "You could've told me that."

"Would that have made you feel any better?" Every response came out of him like he'd rehearsed the entire conversation beforehand.

"We could've done something different," Your hands began to curl into the sheets a little, trying to steady yourself. "I could've-"

"I didn't want anything different." Sato cut off crisply.

You'd never been so utterly confused in your life. Everything was fine before this—for the most part—so what had come over him all of a sudden? Why was he acting like this?

The finality in his statement only made your stomach drop, your head shaking slowly in disbelief, "...So you wanted to use m-"

"No, sweetheart," The pet name sounds empty on his tongue, lacking its usual affection. "I wanted you to see how it feels to get into something thinking things are going to go like they always do, just to feel disappointed by the end."

The next sound that spreads throughout the room is your laughter as it exits you in incredulous fashion, "Sato, what the fuck are you talking about?"

He dragged a hand through the white tuffs of his hair, pacing only once before coming to a stop. "You..." Letting his words trail off, he released a long and stressed-out sigh, "Every woman I've been with has never had the problem you do."

That hits you square in the chest.

Head cocking back as you frown with immediate offense flaring over, "Excuse me? Are you... are you talking about squirting, Sato? You can't be serious."

"I am," He said without hesitation. "If it's just something you can't do, I'd rather you tell me than making me look like an idiot when we fuck."

"What?" Your eyes narrowed as your anger bled into something strictly hurt. "I... I'm sure I can. Maybe we're just doing something wro-"

"We?" Sato cuts you off instantly. Then his tone seemed firmer and you knew he didn't think things through when he said, "No, no, you've got shit backwards here. I can assure you I'm not doing anything wrong, that's all you."

Something inside you finally boiled over.

"All me?" You scoffed, pushing yourself out of the bed. The cold air wrapping itself around you felt like even more of a wake-up call than what he'd just said. "Oh, sorry for not being like all the other twenty girls you sleep with."

Grabbing your clothes with uncoordinated and janky movements after wiping away any lingering trace of what had happened, you subconsciously wished you could've erased the moment entirely from start to finish. Your hands trembled as you got dressed, seemingly more from the heated emotions waving through you than the embarrassment.

Sato stiffened upon hearing your words. For the first time—probably in his life—his confidence had cracked. "Shit—wait," He rushed out, trying to step towards you and stop you from leaving.

It was almost like he himself wasn't aware of how severely fucked up his actions and words were.

His hand reached out for your arm, "I-I didn't mean it like that, c'mon. I just—"

"Save it, asshole." You spat back at him, shoving his hand out the way and storming out his room before giving him a chance to say anything else.

He'd said more than enough to have your vision blurry and heart pounding in your chest as if pained.

The hallway was dim, your footsteps quickened to carry you as far away from him as possible, and your emotions buzzed all too loudly in your ears for you to think straight. You think you hear something clash against the wall back in Sato's room but you ignore it.

You're so wrapped up in your feelings that you're not even paying attention to where you're going. You only made it a few steps down the hall before you collided with something solid.

Someone solid.

Gasping as you stumble back, a pair of hands come up to steady you. "Ah, sorry," a voice hums out to you. The sound is soft as it reverberates throughout the hallway but your chest feels as though it's caving inwards since the guy in front of you sounded exactly like Sato.

There was a pitch of unfamiliarity in it, though. One that made you look up.

For a moment, you thought maybe you'd fallen off the bed earlier and that everything thus far had been some type of hallucination because surely Sato wasn't standing right in front of you right now.

...Except, with glasses? And a dorkier look in his eyes?

With the same snowy white hair, the same perfectly sharp jawline—that's somehow a tad softer—and the same dazzling blue eyes, he stared at you all longingly as if an angel had fallen right into his arms or something. The only difference between him and his brother being the black glasses sitting center on the bridge of his nose.

Despite the hallway's lack of lighting, you swear you see his cheeks flush with red as the moment of exchanged staring passes.

Prior to this, you'd only ever heard rumors of Sato having a twin brother but you never once imagined those would turn out to be true. The man's eyes widen slightly as he really looks at you, confusion flickering across his face whilst he takes in your flushed skin, the way your clothes are hanging off of you as though you'd rushed to put them all, and how your eyes are somberly glossed over.

"I-," You try to blink that wetness out of your gaze and then clear your throat. "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's fine," He replies as he thoughtlessly continues to hold onto your arms. Then, uncertainly, "You're... Sato's, uh—"

"Sato's what?" You cut off harsher than you meant to.

There was no way he was about to refer to you as that asshole's girlfriend or anything like that, right?

His mouth visibly goes taut, realizing he was about to step into something fragile. Instead of responding, he just stands there awkwardly enough to piss you off even more.

Groaning, you push past him and continue storming down the hall. You didn't have time for whatever that was about to turn into.

Unbeknownst to you, he'd stood there and watched as you walked away—cursing himself out for letting his opportunity to talk to you pass him by like that. He'd known who you were for months prior to this. Out of all the women Sato brought over, you were the only one Toru took a genuine interest in.

It's unfortunate for him that Sato's a stingy asshole who doesn't care to introduce the two of you. Because of that, Toru had to go out of his way just to get glimpses of your personality.

He was always home when Sato brought you over, always in his room that's just one wall over while the two of you fucked—listening and secretly getting off to those gorgeous moans you let off. Toru knew it was perverted of him to do so, but he truly couldn't help himself.

Now here he is with sagging shoulders at the fact that he totally fucked up his first interaction with you.

He heard the whole argument between you and his brother and came out into the hallway hoping to come to your rescue or at least cheer you up, even if only for a second. Yet, all he managed to do was piss you off with his awkwardness and lack of confident social skills.

After a few minutes, Toru straightens up and settles his jaw in a way that says he'd made some type of silent decision. That wasn't going to be the last time he interacted with you—no matter how badly his brother fucked up—he knew you'd be back eventually.

As he turns back to his room, he promises to himself that next time he sees you, he won't hesitate or fumble things with you.

——

A few weeks pass before anything else noteworthy occurs.

In that time, things between you and Sato remain rocky, to say the utmost least. Conversations between the two of you were more careful, apologies came far slower than they should've, and some semblance of trust had been rebuilt in uneven steps.

Sometimes he was sweet and more attentive than he had been before that big argument, kinda like he was afraid it'd happen again. Other times he'd slip up and those old habits would seep through, any excuse he gave you dressed up charmingly enough for you to ultimately end up forgiving him again.

The fact that you both were trying had to be enough to count for something, otherwise the two of you were better off calling it quits months ago.

Somewhere in the middle of that relationship, Toru became familiar to you. You went out of your way to see him whenever you visited the Gojo estate, even if you were only there for Sato.

He was almost always cooped up in his room, drowning himself in his studies—textbooks stacked neatly on his desk, handwritten notes color-coded and meticulously organized.

It wasn't long before you realized he and his brother were complete opposites. Where Sato excelled in partying and socializing, Toru peaked in academics and hobbies that were far more niche.

You remember poking your head into his room one time to say hi and catching him lost in Digimon reruns with strategy guides pulled up on his nearby laptop. He was so engrossed in it that he hadn't even heard you saying something to him.

Situations like that are what got the two of you to be something close to friends.

Though, you still didn't know him any more than you knew Sato. You were still kept at an arm's length from either of their personalities beyond what was noticeable. Sato made sure of that where both he and his twin were concerned.

While he did soften up with you, he still wasn't interested in keeping you that close—not close enough to know him. And he damn sure wouldn't let you go off and try to find that in Toru.

Anytime you and the nerdier Gojo sibling were alone, Sato was intruding minutes later. Always interrupting.

Even when you ran into Toru on campus.

One time when you found him outside the library, standing near a vending machine and ran up to talk to him, Sato seemed to spawn out of thin air with his arm around you is if to silently tell his brother to fuck off.

You weren't sure what had gotten into him as far as that was concerned. He didn't care when you talked to anyone else.

This was but another unfortunate thing for you since you were quite fond of Toru. He remembered little things about you; your major, your favorite cafe, and even your preferred place to sit in lecture halls.

If you asked Sato questions about any of those things, he'd probably shrug and ask you why any of it matters in the first place.

But you bet that dick for brains could tell you which position makes you cum the fastest...

It's regrettably because of that as to why you're currently standing at the large front doors to his home, having rung the bell only a few seconds ago due to an earlier text requesting you come over.

In said text, Sato promised that he only wanted to talk to you and you chose to believe him.

Just for Toru to swing the door open with a surprised look on his face.

"Oh, hey." He began, pushing his glasses further up on his face so that he could get a proper look at you. "If you're looking for Sato, he's not here. I actually think he's been gone for the past three hours or so."

Disappointment settles into you and you roll your eyes, already annoyed. "Of course he has," You sigh.

Toru offers you a half-comforting grin before stepping back a bit and opening the door wider for you, "He'll probably be back soon though, if you wanna come in?"

You debated leaving but the prospect of being able to spend some alone time with Toru is what swayed you into staying.

Which is how you ended up in their living room.

The rest of the house was quieter than Sato ever allowed it to be. There was no music blaring, none of his restless pacing or constant yammering about fuck knows what. The only thing heard was the low hum of the TV ahead of you and Toru.

He'd put on a movie a few minutes ago and although you'd agreed to watch it with him, you kept glancing towards the front door hoping to see Sato walk in any moment now.

It never happens.

Sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, you and Toru are steady to find comfort in one another's presence. You eventually let yourself focus on what he'd put on, snorting whenever he laughed at the unfunniest bits of it and finding yourself mused by the easiness of it all.

You noticed how Toru also tried to sneak his eyes onto you here and there, lacking that smoothness his slightly older brother had and always catching your attention when he did it.

The two of you even shared those warm moments where you'd catch him staring and then whisper, "What, is something on my face?"

To which he'd swallow thickly and shake his head, "No, not at all. Sorry..."

His shyness is probably what drew you in the most about him. You loved how often he avoided eye contact with you, how gentle his voice always came out, and the way he'd begin to adjust himself against the couch due to the smallest of things.

The night was going well enough for you to forget all about—

Your phone rang and Sato's name was lighting up your screen.

At the sight, your shoulders went tense and you were unsure if you should answer it or not. Toru looked over at you but he didn't say anything.

The movie continued to play ahead as you picked up the phone and quietly spoke to Sato, "What?"

Whatever was said to you on the other end made your jaw clench—something of which Toru noted instantly. He didn't mean to be nosy but it was hard not to when minutes passed and you were clearly getting frustrated about your conversation.

"You sound drunk," You're heard muttering, making Toru's ears perk up and then strain to hear more.

Sato is just barely heard grumbling in response, "M'not drunk, baby."

Your shoulders slump, "Did you even mean to text me?"

There's a long pause. Toru tenses up and Sato's heard burping.

"I texted you?" The man on the phone asks, making your entire mood sink. "Hahhh, fuck. I don' remember doing that.. What uh, what'd I say?"

"You said you needed to talk." You reply rigidly.

He nods even though you can't see him, "Ah... I mean, I do need to talk to you but," Pausing to grumble, "Don't see why I didn't jus' call.. Anyway, s-so yesterday I was with this girl 'n she said m'not doin' anything wrong."

His early attempt at trying to convince you he wasn't drunk fell flat in that instant. You stare into space for a moment, "What?"

"Remember how we got into it about your squirting problem?" Sato blurts out in response.

You could feel yourself getting irritated with him all over again. You hated the way he said that like it was truly an issue on your end alone, even though the two of you have talked about it after the argument.

"My squirting problem? You mean the fact that you can't get me there?" You snapped back, matching his energy for just a second and unintentionally gaining the dull attention of his nosy brother.

At this point, you don't think you cared whether or not he overheard.

"No, no, I cannnn..." Sato drags out drunkenly. Then you hear this giggle in the background before he adds, "This girl told me it really is you 'n not me. Because like-"

You hang up the phone before he can continue.

The last thing you wanted to do was entertain whatever the fuck he was about to tell you for any longer than you had to. Your phone falls down into your lap and you feel it buzzing a few seconds later but you only swipe it back up to silence it entirely.

After which, the room falls into a thick quietness that swallows up both you and Toru. Even the movie playing ahead had switched to a soundless scene that only added to the shift in moods.

A few minutes of this stillness pass before you feel the weight on the other side of the couch shifting. Your eyes flick over and you see him readjusting himself in his seat.

You don't question it nor say anything but his sudden movements do manage to pull you out of your funk for a second. Ignoring it, you pick your phone back up to see that Sato had texted you a bunch of gibberish—the only sensible message you can make out being one of him begging you to text or call back.

As soon as you start typing, his twin decides to clear his throat again.

“I mean, it can’t be that hard.” Toru says all timidly, his words catching enough to snag your attention away from your phone.

Your thumb goes idle against the screen and you look up at him to see his cheeks colored over with bright red. He was looking off to his left and you could tell by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that his breathing had gone off-track.

Clearly, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

You chuckle as if intrigued by his words, humming, “Your brother said the same thing."

Toru scoffs and then speaks without thinking again, “He doesn’t care enough.”

Cocking a brow, “Doesn’t care enough to make me squirt?” You ask.

The sound of the man’s breath hitching was clearer than the dense tension between you both. “Obviously not,” Toru continues, lifting two slim fingers up to the center of his glasses to adjust them against his nose. “If he did, he would’ve made sure you… uh, did that.”

Never would you have expected to have this kind of conversation with the same man who can barely look you in the eye. But it was clear something had changed. Even in his body language, you saw how he'd sat up a bit straighter against the couch and let his legs sprawl out wider—almost invitingly so.

He was still avoiding your gaze but the sturdiness in his voice is what intrigued you the most.

“Did what, Toru? Say it,” You pressed, putting your phone down and turning on the couch to face him fully.

You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with the way he gulped thickly. “He would’ve uhm..." Toru pauses to take a deep breath—mentally reminding himself that he swore not to embarrass himself in front of you again—and then clears his throat one more time, "He would've made sure you squirted.”

Too shy to look at you just yet, he misses how the look in your eyes changes entirely. It was like seeing him in a new light.

Not that you hadn't thought about it before. He does look exactly like Sato and there's been a few times where you've wondered what it'd be like to be the cause of his glasses going crooked 'n foggy.

Biting back a smile, “Well, he makes me cum a lot.” You explain to him casually. Certainly Toru wouldn't have started talking to you about this if he didn't at least have some advice for you, “Like, back to back.”

He nods, nimble fingers fidgeting over one another in his lap, “Then, he just doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

You bat your lashes at him all cluelessly, “But—“

“As I said the first time,” Toru looks at you all of a sudden, his eyes mildly terrified behind his frames despite the attempt of confidence spreading over his face. There was a devilishly sexy blend of sureness and hesitancy plastered all over his features, “It can’t be that hard.”

The direct eye contact and few inches of space between where you two were sitting made everything feel hot all of a sudden. Blush melts itself into his skin again and it was clear that this initiated flirting of his was a first time thing.

You knew Toru found you intimidating and that subconsciously accepted fact only made you want to see more. More of your affect on him.

Sliding closer to him on the couch, your voice slyly dips into something more taunting, “You sound like you wanna try.”

Watching the way his jaw flexes, teeth tightly gritted within his mouth, and throat struggling to conceal the high-pitched sound that threatened to jump out of him—your affect on the man was as clear as day.

Somehow, Toru manages to maintain his confident facade, “Would you let me if I did?”

“Do you?” You ask quicker than he expects you to.

His head felt like it was spinning already. Is this what it's like to do drugs? Does his brother get to experience this all the time?

Toru gulps again, “Do I.. what?”

Now he was playing dumb on purpose, as if he wasn't the one who commenced this whole thing with his earlier statement.

Which makes you giggle, “You’re the smartest guy I know, Toru." Your compliment makes his heart skip a few beats. Then your head tilts and your tone softens, "Don’t start acting dumb just to appeal to me.”

He bats those pretty white lashes at you with his eyes all doe-like on you for a moment before he looks down, “I just… I wanted to hear you say it.”

You stand up from the couch all of a sudden and he freezes up. Then you walk over and stand right in between his legs, moving a hand to his chin and forcing his head up. “Do you wanna try making me squirt?”

Toru shakes his head and your brows furrow. His face nuzzles into your hand, forcing it to spread open as his cheek presses into your palm, “It’s not something to be tried, it’s just something I can do for you.” He explains.

Your thumb brushes against his cheek and his glasses slip down his nose a bit. Smiling, “Someone's confident.”

He merely whispers, “‘Can’t be that hard.”

——

Ten minutes later and you're wondering why he wasn't the first Gojo twin you met.

Loong fingers stretching your pussy out crudely, hot tongue attacking your clit like he wanted to lick you into numbness, and eyes still doe-like as they remain glued up on your face—Toru was nothing like his slightly older brother.

No, no, he aimed not only to please but to learn how you like to be pleased.

Whereas Sato would just sleep with you the same way he did with anyone else—beyond confident in his own abilities to bring a woman pleasure—Toru was the kinda man who took his time to work you up specifically.

“Taste s’good,” He praised in a tone deeper than you knew to be capable from him. You were laying across the couch now and he was stuffed neatly in between your legs. Whining, “More,” as he tugged at your thighs, his jaw going slack, and his mouth smearing against your cunt. “Gimme’ more—mmpfh. Please?"

You weren't sure what more he could be referring to when his fingertips were already twirling something sinful against your g-spot. You had a hand buried into his hair, your other behind you as you held onto the couch to steady yourself with the way he feasted on you as if your pussy was the best thing to wet up his tongue.

“Ah, T-Toru, fuck!” You cried out, unconsciously pulling away from him when his fingers focused in deep against that soppy spot—addicted to the way your slick gushed out around his hand and left a sweet mess against the couch.

His fingers leave your insides for only a second and a half before he's shoving them into his mouth to suck the taste off. Toru's eyes rolled back for a moment before he let both of his hands redirect to your inner thighs and then spread you out wider just so nothing was obstructing your view of the way he sloppily kissed your cunt.

Small strings of aroused filth would hang in between his mouth and your puffy pussylips, all of which would get licked off by his eager tongue before he dove back in for more.

Before you'd let him make his way down there, you recall the way he oh-so-awkwardly kissed you. He hardly had a clue what to do with his tongue when it was against yours but now that he was in between your legs, he became an entirely different person.

Suckling the dewy tastes into his mouth and guzzling it down his throat just to let it linger, Toru was nothing short of desperate to make you feel good. So much so that his brain practically turns off as he moves his hands to grip your hips and then lifts the lower half of your body up against his face.

His mouth nuzzled harder against you and you felt the wiggling tip of his tongue slap against your clenching walls. He softly humped the couch as he ate you out, letting the sounds of your moans coax him into giving you everything he could.

Toru only pulled away from your cunt when his glasses fogged up too much for him to see your face. And before you could offer to wipe them off or anything, you met his gaze with the way his head angled for you to do so.

His voice deep and aching, “Sit on my face,” He requested before whining again. “Pleasepleaseplease,” the man panted almost puppy-like and then seared his next words right into your clit with the edge of his tongue, “Need it s’bad.”

You don't think you had it anywhere in you to deny him when he was asking so nicely like that.

But by the time the two of you had flipped over and you were left hovering over his pleasantly flushed face—his shaky hands tight against your hips—you were a little too nervous to sit down.

Toru had caught his breath by now but nothing about his starved appetite had changed. Those previously soft blue eyes of his seemed to pierce straight through you in a way that Sato's sometimes would. You know they're twins and all but fuck, it was nerve-wracking to experience that hungry look from the alleged "shy" twin.

“Ride it," Toru husked out all of a sudden, giving your body the faintest pull.

Your eyes went all wide, “…Your mouth?”

Instead of clarifying things or being patient with you, he snatches your frame down with a strength you didn't know he possessed. Moaning before your core even reaches his lips again, “Want you to feed your pussy to me.”

Then he was practically suctioned to you again, eyes rolling back far enough for the whites to be visible beneath the foggy frames of his glasses.

“Ohfuck,” You cry out, the upper half of your body slumping forward a bit as your thighs squeeze around his head.

You felt the way Toru smiled at the feeling, almost like he was exactly where he'd wanted to be. His tongue skated up into you with a vigor you'd never felt before.

The man ate pussy like he wanted the results of your release plastered all over those pretty glasses of his, leaving him with sogged vision and a numbed tongue. It was yet another thing that made him so much different than his brother because although that man had stamina like no other and knew how to use his cock, he never once ate you out.

Meanwhile Toru couldn’t seem to get enough.

He even left a needy smack to your ass, encouraging you to do as he initially asked of you and ride his face. It wasn’t until his tongue was constantly plunging past your glissading folds that you unconsciously rolled your hips forward and earned a whimper from him in response.

Then the hands on your hips began to tug at you again, not even begging you for more but demanding it now.

You could no longer focus on the way he looked with splashes of your slick spread out on his glasses in nasty droplets since the tip of his nose had bumped up against your clit, and his jaw went slack just to adhere to your drooling nerves.

The sensation made your entire body flinch, but he wouldn’t let you pull up. For the nth time, you were stunned by Toru’s strength.

His tongue was thick and gathering against your pussy, not letting a singular drop of your taste escape his mouth until something light ghosted out of you.

“S-Something feels-, nngh,” Your struggles were just the cutest thing. “Different.” You tried to warn him.

His head tilted slightly and you felt his lips curve against you again as he smiled knowingly. Plucking his mouth away from you for the first time in forever with a wet pop!, Toru let his warm breath pat your quivering hole as he whispered, “It’s supposed to feel different, sweet girl. That’s what happens when you come to the right twin.”

Cocky. You never knew Toru had that in him—must be a trait that runs into family.

Except, it’s not like he was wrong. Once he lathered his tongue back in and sucked on your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane, you felt that coiling burn building up inside you. You knew you were gonna squirt despite never experiencing it before.

But it felt like too much, made you feel dirty as you neared that shattering edge. So much so that you tried so hard to snatch yourself away from Toru, whining excessively only for each sound to fall on completely deaf ears.

Your legs had clamped around his head so tight that he was getting lightheaded from his lack of oxygen—not that he cared. He had one singular goal and nothing was gonna stop him from reaching it.

It wasn’t long before it happened as his complimenting moans turned into graveling groans. The sounds vibrated against your pussy and you were tongue-fucked right into something blissful. Bleary white streaks coated your vision and you think you would’ve fallen over if not for the mean grasp he had on you.

Toru had done it, he managed to make you squirt.

By the time your brain feels like it’s functioning enough to hold a conversation, you let your vision come back to you and look down to see his soaked face.

His eyes are dazed whilst they peer up at you, appreciation swirling through his pupils. Those same glasses you’ve managed to squirt over are now crooked and you wonder if that’s from the way you unconsciously started rutting your hips forward just a few minutes ago.

Toru didn’t do anything but pant heavily—his breath stuttering here and there due to how long he went without breathing properly. When he finds the energy to send you another boyish grin, you feel a wave of embarrassment flutter over.

“Shit,” You huff, slowly moving from over his face and then grabbing his glasses.

With his face revealed, you saw how unfairly pretty he was with content written into his skin.

Then he chuckles softly, “You don’t have t’clean those.” Toru tells you, tone mumbled.

You were trying to wipe his glasses off with your shirt but he’d moved his hand to your wrist to stop you.

“I like the mess,” he added.

After which you’re stuck staring at him while he takes the wet glasses out of your hand and puts them back on his face. Surely there’s some hygienic concerns to take into consideration here but he’s not at all worrying about that right now.

Not with the painfully hard cock he’s got twitching in between his legs.

He wasn’t gonna tell you out of fear you’d assume he was some kinda loser (he is) but, not only did he cum half-way through eating you out, he also got hard again when that messy stream came pouring out of you.

Toru’s never made a woman squirt before but he did study enough videos to—clearly—figure out how it’s done. He didn’t think it would work so easily with you since all he had to use was his tongue but considering the way you just-

“Can you do that again?” Your voice hits his ears all of a sudden and his eyes widen.

“W-What?” Toru chokes, “You uh, you want me to make you squirt again?”

You nod and then move to sit back a little, not exactly in his lap but still close enough for your body heat to mingle. Your finger trails down the center of his torso slowly as you speak, “It felt really good. I wanna do it again,” You requested almost innocently. “But, on your cock this time.”

He doesn’t know how he managed not to cum at the sound of that.

Toru knew you were bold, he knew you could be a bit of a ditz at time, but fuck—did you have any idea of the things you were asking for sometimes?

Mustering up that faux confidence from before, he leans up and hums. “Alright, yeah… I can do that.” He thinks. Not that he’ll admit his lack of assuredness to you though. His hands simply move against your body and you hardly realize what’s going on until he’s swooped you up in his arms. “But not here.”

You blink dumbfoundedly, “Why not?”

“I have a better idea.”

——

When he said that, you didn’t think the better idea in question would be having sex in his brother’s room.

You recognized the path there as Toru carried you, felt the familiarity when he laid you down on the bed, and smelled the same scent of Sato lingering around even as Toru tried to distract you with kisses.

It seemed to be surprise after surprise with this man.

“I think after all the times I’ve had to hear the two of you fuck,” Toru’s hands were running down your body—his touch smoother than his brother’s ever were. “It’s only fair that I make you squirt in the same place he never could, right?”

Too many thoughts of sin swirled in your head for you to answer that properly so all you did was nod your head again. Which was yet another thing he found cute.

It’s no wonder Sato kept you to himself all this time.

That realization becomes even clearer by the time Toru’s got his cock freed from his clothing, his pinkish tip dribbling precum down onto your cunt while he gapes at the sight.

With his clothes all gone, you realized that he’d been hiding a ripped body under all those baggy, nerdy-branded tees he wore. His muscles would flex without him even trying and he didn’t even notice how badly you were drooling over him until he stopped looking at your weeping hole and remembered to redirect his gaze up.

Seeing how you’re staring at his abs like you wanted to take a bite out of him, he leaned all the way up and allowed himself to be on full display for you. His cock bobbed with its hardness due to the way you admired him.

He was only reminded again that his brother got this time and time again and was too selfish to share.

What an asshole.

Toru scoffed and let his head cock to the left, peaking down at his length still hanging over your lower abdomen. “Hm,” His hand moved and he began to measure himself in comparison to how deep inside you he’d be within the next few minutes—hand stopping only a few inches short of your belly button. “Does he reach this far?”

You flinched out of your gawking thoughts and moved your attention to where his hand was, gasping at the debauched sight in between your legs.

Truth be told, the fact that they were twins clearly applied to every inch of their bodies. But if you looked hard enough, you could notice that Sato’s is a bit longer while Toru’s has that veining thickness.

To avoid making the man jealous, you shrug and make eye contact with him again, “Put it in and find out.”

Toru laughs dryly and you throb. Something had changed from before. His shyness seemed like it hid itself away considering there was nothing shy about how he wrapped his hand around his cock and then let it slap slap slap! against your swollen folds.

Your body twitched at each slap but what caught his attention most is how your cunt salivated with each one.

“Huh. I think I figured it out,” Toru breathed, his glasses slipping a bit.

Then he guides his dick up to swab around your clit for a couple seconds just to see the way your hips instantly squirm up for more. The smile that drags out across his face is chillingly close to the one Sato wears while he fucks you.

“There it is,” Toru whispers, hauling his cock down and letting his plump tip poke against your hole to feel you clench, and then slide back. “That’s what you like. You like being teased.”

You were so needy that you felt your slick wetly sliding down your skin to pool beneath you, “N-No, I just—“

“Shhh, focus on how this feels, pretty girl.” He instructs. All the shakiness you normally heard in his speech was gone and replaced with something sinfully commanding—yearning only to teach you true pleasure. “See how my cock keeps slipping out? Mmgh,” He repeated his action from before and your hips bucked for more this time, making him huff. “Don’t you want it inside you sooo badly?”

Your hand reached down for him, trying your damndest to angle him into you, “I do. Toru please,” You pleaded delightfully.

His naturally submissive nature leads him to slip an inch in but the dewy warmth of your pussy makes him let out a stuttered gasp. Then he lets his cock slop right out of you with another ringing sound of filth spurring out into the air. Then his deft cockhead thwacks at your quivering hole again and your eyes roll back.

"Say that again." Toru grunts, slapping your parted folds with his cock again to emphasize his words, "Beg me for it."

Your back arches up off the bed this time and you’ve got the prettiest look of desperation on your face, "Mnh, please?"

Fuck. He was not strong enough to drag this out any longer.

Nor was he reader for how welcoming your cunt is for him. Swallowing him in inch by stretching inch, Toru’s left with a slacked jaw as he finally slides into you. Choking on his own breath, “O-Ohh… Oh fuck.” he pants, “You’re so wet. F-Fuck, were you always this wet? Shit..”

You let off a pleasant string of moans that make his cock twitch wildly inside you before he even makes it halfway in.

Managing a short breath, you smile up at him, “Didn’t know you could curse s’much, Toru.”

He knew right then and there he was fucked.

“G-Gonna cum,” He whimpers as he drops his face down into your neck. The singular utterance of his name is what did it for him.

You thought he was just being dramatic but when you feel velvety ropes of creamy cum flooding into you followed by his throaty grunts against the crook of your neck, you realize he was being everything but.

The man could barely move his hips and all he had to offer you was thick loads in sporadic spurts and whiny groans.

By the time you feel his cum escaping where the two of you are still connected, you’re slow to snort, “…Toru?”

“Shit,” He gasps immediately, “Shitshitshit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to cum,” His head flies up, white hairs sticking to his forehead from sweat and eyes all wide and apologetic on yours, “I just-, you felt so good. I couldn’t-, fuck. I’m—“

“It’s okay,” You giggle, moving your hands to cup his face, “Just keep goin’.”

“But-,” His eyes travel back and forth between your own as he continues to stare. It takes Toru a long moment to realize he’s… still hard.

With a breathless oh tumbling out of his kiss-bitten lips, he rolls his hips forward and pushes his cum deeper into you as a creamy squelch rings out. “O-Ohh, fuck. That sounds s’nasty...” He murmurs, arousal decorating his expression from the sound.

“Mhm,” You whir, tugging him down to kiss you.

If Sato had good stamina then, as twins, Toru should too, right?

A very intimate mess of his hips rocking down into you carries on with your lips sliding over one another. Unlike his older sibling who typically fucked like his every thrust guaranteed pleasure (it did), Toru moved inside you in the same way his mouth moved over yours—awkward but careful.

The streeeetch from his cock definitely made up for his lack of hurried strokes since his steady pace forced you to feel every prodding inch.

He may not have lasted long inside you without cumming but he was able to bring you to an orgasm of your own, whispering things into your mouth about how perfect you were—how his brother never deserved any of this.

It made your heart feel heavy and your cunt sloppily sang around his cock up until the sound of something dropping made you both gasp.

“What the fuck.” Sato’s voice was heard seething, having dropped the bag he had hanging off of his shoulder.

When Toru pulls away from you and glances back, you manage to move your head enough to catch a glimpse of how Sato stuck was staring at the way his twin steadily fucking you to gentle tears.

“S-Sato,” You sputtered out, suddenly feeling Toru’s hand move to press down your lower abdomen—tightening the pressure around his cock and making him feel impossibly bigger inside you. “Ohmygod-,” Both men heard the way you choked, “M’gonna cum.”

Only to be interrupted by Toru scoffing, "Not yet. Someone has to teach this guy how to make you squirt, right?"

“No one has to teach me shit,” Sato argued as he fully entered his bedroom.

What a sight—his own brother fucking his favorite girl. Sato never thought he’d see the day, honestly.

Hell, he didn’t even know what to say. The sight of you two wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Toru had his face so it was like seeing himself fuck you. But, y’know, with glasses…

“Clearly someone does,” Toru’s delayed response came after he’d tugged his cock out of you, watching his cum sap out and soil his brother’s bedsheets. “Especially if I was able to do it.”

Rolling his eyes, “Bullshit.” Sato spat without letting his brother’s words register properly. When they finally do, an appalled expression colors over him, “Wait, what? No way, show me.”

Toru moves a hand to scratch the back of his neck, looking off to the side dorkishly, “Uh, we didn’t record it or anything–”

“No, I mean do it again, four eyes.” His older brother clarifies rudely.

You sit up at that. Glancing back and forth between the two for a moment and then settling your eyes onto Sato, “What?”

“I don’t believe him,” Sato huffs as comes to sit on the edge of his bed. Throwing his eyes onto you, “So, if he really made you squirt then surely he has no issue doing it again.”

You blink. “You want him to do that in front of you?”

“I want to see you squirt, period,” He admits, “I don’t care who gets it outta’ you at this point.”

You and Toru then exchange glances before looking at him.

“Well?” Sato scoffs. “If you’re gonna go out of your way to fuck in my bed, don’t stop now that I’m here. Put on a fuckin’ show for me.”

Ever so demanding he was…

——

Not that you or Toru seemed to care.

The next position you end up in is rather… precarious, to say the least.

You thought you were left stretched before but that feeling was utterly pale in comparison to what you felt now. Toru had you bouncing up and down his heavy cock, letting it talk you through every pummeling thrust by leaving sweltering smooches against the deepest crevices of your cunt.

Your maw was left to dangle open and you looked like a true slut in the eyes of the Gojo twins. As one fucked you beyond dumb, the other was sat in front of you with his hands wrapped around his shaft, his palm running up and down that wildly long cock of his as sticky precum glistened out from his tip.

Drool and spit trickled all down your jaw and fell onto the floor below and you couldn’t move in any way to escape Toru’s desperate thrusts.

The sound of sweaty skin slacking and clashing against one another echoed through Sato’s large bedroom whilst he watched and got off to the sight.

Your arms and legs were locked firmly in Toru’s grip and he was just using your pussy to satisfy that swollen ache he’d been dealing with for fuck knows how long now.

The remnants of his cum sobbed downwards and left a messy ring around his base, the pearly color nearly mocking the white happy trail of hair he had.

"Tighter-, hahh.. squeeze around me tighter, please." Toru muttered into your ear, having found himself pussydrunk and slopped. The walls of your pussy narrowed around him and his hips snapped up a little faster, "Good girl, just like that. F-Fuuck... you're gonna make me c-cum." Toru whimpered.

A singular gasp of, "Inside.” from your horribly sore throat makes both him and his brother groan.

"Again? Shiit," Toru sent a bragging smile ahead before bucking his hips up into you faster as if to prove a point. Still talking into your ear, "Y'want me to breed you in front of Sato? Damn, you're sluttier than I thought you'd be."

You feel his weighty balls pounding up against your skin as his cock bullied in deeper, your pussy stretched into the prettiest shape and molded perfectly around him.

Sato couldn’t take his eyes off the errotic sight and his hand moved faster, his own hips thrusting up as he reminisced on that feeling of positioning into you. The man swears he could feel you wrapped around him just from watching his brother handle you.

It was so different to see things from this perspective but fuck was it sexy. Your tits bounced as Toru dragged you up up upp and then let his hips meet you halfway with a needy thrust as he let your body come back down.

"Mmngh, Toru!" You moaned softly.

To which his teeth nipped at your ear, "It's so cute when you say my name like that," He huffs, "Do you like me that much? Hm? Like the way Toru treats this pussy?"

You weakly moved your head in agreement, tears running down your cheeks, "Uhuhh… f-fuuuck, Toru. M’cummin.”

His movements grew faster then, ruder. The plump crown of his cock mashed into that sweet spot of yours over and over and over as if to make the spot his new home—imprint himself there permanently.

Breathing all heavy against you, “S’okay, let it out, sweetheart. Show him what he should be making you do, yeah?”

Sato cums a split second before it actually happens, based on the fact that it was about to happen. Thank god you were too drunk to see it because he’s watching with teary eyes as you squirt all over Toru—his dick slipping out of you because of it and the mess spraying ahead filthily.

Your pussy quivers from the release and you’re whining all through it, the cooing sound of Toru whispering you through your high prominence in your ear. You could barely think, barely breathe because of the intensity of it all.

When you calm down from it, Toru’s still got you in his arms and all you’re left to focus on is Sato’s pouty face as he continues to stroke himself.

“Well, fuck. Look at you,” He spoke hoarsely the moment he noticed your attention on him, his head resting back against his headboard, “Just a whore for some Gojo cock, huh?”

Your head barely bobs in response—far too dazed to answer that with a properly functioning brain.

Sato’s hand squeezes around his tip and his brows furrow, “Yeahhh? Y’liked watching me jerk off like some pathetic loser while I let my brother fuck you?” He hardly waited for another answer out of you before nodding his chin, “Bet you do. Look at that pussy, so fuckin’ wet from this.”

Toru’s easing you down on the bed in between the both of them, puffing, “Unfair of you to keep her all to yourself, Sato.”

Keeping things simple, “I’m willing to share now.”

…

Things should have ended there. Seriously.

But, allas, the hold these two have over you appeared to be much stronger than you thought.

“Wrap those lips around me, baby.” Sato had requested, watching your shaky limbs move in between his legs.

Toru was somewhere behind you, diving his face back into your cunt to… clean the mess he left in there, apparently.

Out of both of them, Toru was definitely the more perverted one—currently eating his own cum out of your cunt after giving you some bullshit excuse about wanting to keep you clean.

All he wanted was to stick his tongue inside you again. You weren’t that dumb.

While you gathered Sato’s cock into your palm and let your lips press into his tip, he hissed as his face twisted up due to sensitivity. Easing a hand onto your head, “Atta girl. Choke on this dick while he cleans you up. Wanna see every inch down that throat.”

His words never failed to leave your cunt soused, a physical reaction of which met Toru’s compliant tongue.

Sato’s bed was a mess of all sorts of fluids—overly due for a washing after all that had taken place thus far. His cock was somewhere in the back of your throat and he felt your moans tremble against him whenever Toru slurped against you just right.

The three of you were lazy with everything by now and the only thing that made the Gojo siblings perk up was when you ended up gifting Toru’s mouth with another raining mess.

Oh, Sato was in awe at the sight all over again. So much so that it’s what caused his next orgasm. He was so dazed by your squirting that he didn’t even bother to ask you to swallow what he’d just unconsciously thrusted into your throat.

Normally that’s his favorite part; watching or asking you to swallow his seed. Yet, he’d missed all of that because seeing his brother’s face smothered in your wetness left him shocked.

“Ohhh, shit. That was more than the first time.” Toru said as he finally pulled himself from in between your legs.

Sato’s ears twitch and he cocks a brow. Daze broke completely, “First time?” he asked. It was clear he still didn’t believe that his geeky, clumsy, and overall awkward sibling made that happen before he walked in.

Toru looks at his brother, “Yeah… More than the first time she squirted.”

Sato stares. “You… You made her squirt before I got here?” Disbelief was evident in his tone.

He chuckles, “You asked me that like it’s hard or something, of course I did.”

You pull yourself up from Sato’s softening cock just in time and give the two slow blinks while transferring your gaze back and forth. Sleepiness wasn’t slow to overcome you.

Sato met your eyes with his pointed ones and puffed all brat-like, “Soooo… you’re gonna do that for only me next time, right?”

There’s not a singular thought inside your head as you blatantly ignore him. Then, you turn over and plop onto the bed to lay down—back facing the two of them.

“Hello?” Sato taps your shoulder and then jokingly adds a comedic, “Chat, am I muted…?”

Toru snorts with a shake of his head, getting out the bed to start cleaning up the mess you three collectively made within the past few hours.

Then, you’re wondering if the roles had reversed for a second when he grumbles, “Fuckin’ loser…”

perm gojo tags (1/2);

@imyourightnow @cupidstrace @billiondollarworth @navyllll @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa444 @sugo-jo @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator @2kool4skoolll @yulissacastillo11

@daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @oookore @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey @iaintblockinnobody @anothergojostan @kitassecretgf @nanasukii28 @iam-souless

@nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @kunababy @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @forest-nymph666 @yourlocalcatscammer @viiennie

@1stmagnoila @moonmilk102 @v33326 @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @bloxdhawks @riameriash

@arminseas2 @palanggaaa @makingtimemine @theodoresvalentine @salmon-ella @miss-f0rtun3 @jinjen @blcknebula @babblybebe @iluvatsumuuuui

(if u wanna be tagged for future gojo works pls lmk here—it is almost full though!)

It has been so nonstop lately.

Two kids. 25 month age gap was no joke.

You'd tried forever to conceive the first time - took over a year before you'd gotten that positive. Jim felt like he had two jobs; Chief of Police and your constant fuck toy.

If he were being honest, he kind of missed it.

18 month olds trick you, it's what you'd keep telling people. They're slightly more independent, still super cuddly, learning the world...and you forget about the birth trauma - consider trying again.

Jim was on board immediately for your second kid. Rushing through bedtime routines with your son just so he could get you alone, fuck you good and proper.

Your favorite was when he'd cum in you - praise you for taking him so good - and then demand you lay back and get off again. Cumming with his cum inside of you was another level of pleasure - it was the thing you'd done differently the month that got you pregnant.

And Hopper loved watching you get off again; thought you looked so pretty choking back your moans so you didn't wake the baby.

The positive came quicker this time, to your joy, and pregnancy sex was pleasurable until the third trimester for you. It was on.

That'd been another two years ago. Now the cabin was feeling full with joy and laughter and too many toys.

Hopper loved coming home to it.

"Daddy's home!!" He'd hear you tell the kids as he stepped on the porch.

Some days they'd almost hit him with the door, running out to him.

And you'd be there, doing dishes, it always seemed like you were buried in dishes and laundry anymore - but he'd still pull you into him with a deep kiss and an ass grab.

The kids would call out with an "eww!" which would get you to break away.

It was always such a wake up - the amount of laughter the four of you had anymore. He never thought he'd end up happy.

Kids now 2 and 4, you sometimes wondered if a third was really in your future.

Didn't stop you from trying, though.

Your drive was intense - especially with the weight Jim gained. You. Loved. It.

More often than not, you'd gotten interrupted lately.

A deep kiss in the kitchen one Sunday morning led to wandering hands. He'd watched you nurse your youngest again this morning - the weaning process not going as easily as it did with your first - and he'd seen that flannel of his go unbuttoned once more, your tit pulled out, a glance of nipple before she latched for you. You were an amazing mom. And for almost 4 years total now, he'd gotten to see you whip out a tit constantly to feed them between your two breastfeeding journeys.

It was torture seeing you topless and not being able to do anything about it most of the time.

Today, over coffee, you in his oversized shirt and him in his sweatpants, he pressed you to the counter and kissed you hard.

You'd almost spilled your coffee from the surprise.

The kids were still asleep - early morning wakings hard to break the habit of when they started sleeping through the night.

Hopper hoisted you on the counter.

Wrapping your arms around him, you deepened the kiss, trailing your hands over his large build, and quietly moaning at the feeling of him against you again.

"Fuck, I missed you, baby."

He was hard before you expected.

"Touch it, you know you want to."

As soon as you start stroking his cock, you freeze. One of the kids spoke in their room. Jim wanted to groan. Sleep talking, no surprise.

Your hand kept pumping him. If you kept this up, he'd embarrassingly cum in his pants.

His large hands trailed up your thigh, thankful you hated wearing pants to bed. Easy access to your panties.

You almost slide off the counter when he angles a finger inside of you.

"God damn it, so wet..."

"Think I'm ovulating, Jim."

A quiet moan leaves him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathes you in, kisses you there.

Your grip on his cock intensifies and he swears he's going to cum. It's been too long.

When the youngest cries, "Mama!!"Jim practically sobs.

"To be continued," your promise as you slip off the counter, body against him.

He presses you to the thing, spins you, bends you over, rubs himself against you.

Torture. This is torture.

You both break apart when your 4 year old runs out of his room and to the bathroom.

Mornings start early here.

Throughout the day, you're teasing each other. Any moment alone, or walking by there's a quick grope or kiss or whispered sexual comment.

It's. Torturing. Him.

When the kids' favorite show is on, you both claim to fold clothes in the bedroom, a second alone.

When you request his help, he's instantly there, closing the door and trying to be inconspicuous.

You've shoved him in the corner, kept the lights off, curtains drawn, so they won't see if they come intruding.

He's hooked on you. You're such a fucking dream.

When you take his cock out and fall to your knees, Hopper has to bite his cheek so he doesn't moan aloud.

"Good girl. Fuck. Been waiting all day for this." He cant help but thrust into your mouth, demanding his own speed.

You keep up easily, in tune with his pleasure and habits after all these years together.

"Fuck, are you touching yourself?" He swears he hears your wetness on your fingers.

A quiet, "mhm" vibrates against his cock head and now it's all the can think about.

Swiftly, he's hoisting you up, pulling your panties to the side, and bending you over the dresser.

He slides into you with ease, wraps your hair around his hand and pulls while he thrusts into you.

"Shhh...quiet, honey. Good God if I don't cum inside of this wet cunt right now, I'll have to punish you tonight."

It doesn't take you long. He feels you swelling around his cock and the way you're around him is making it hard to hold back.

"There. Right there, big guy. Please. Play with your tip. Like that, yeah. Fuuuuck..." you're whispering out as you thrust back against him. "I'm there. I'm there, Jim."

As soon as he feels you pulsing around his cock, he chokes on a moan.

His hips stutter as he tries to force his body to trust through your orgasm before he lets himself go. He loves pushing himself deep into you when he cums, but he knows you need stimulation so he's giving these half-hearted tiny thrusts to save himself from overstimulation.

He can't help the soft growl that punctuated every exhale.

His hands linger on your body before he reaches for a washcloth from the laundry basket on the bed.

Slowly easing out of you, he holds the washcloth beneath you so you don't dot the carpet with his cum.

As he wipes you up, you spin to face him, kiss him deeply.

You're groping and fondling - always touching him - he loves the attention.

When you hear the kids fighting, you throw your head back in frustration.

"Tag, you're it," you groan, indicating it's his turn to break it up.

"Babygirl, that wasn't enough..." he's pulling his pants back up, the way he looks on the dim light is so alluring.

"I agree. I need you naked in that bed so I can worship that dad bod of yours."

He heaves a deep breath. "Maybe we can get a sitter this Friday."

"My mom wants them soon. I'll ask."

The yelling has stopped after the commercial break, you're assuming, and Hopper comes over to kiss you again.

"If we can convince them to nap today..." he speaks between kisses.

You hum a moan.

"You. Bed. Naked. Wanna play with those tits," he hums against your mouth. "Then I need you to sit on my face."

You choke a gasp.

Little feet running around the living space distracts you.