#cursed.archive

"Tapping out so soon, little lamb?" Sukuna teases, allowing you a moment of respite.

He settles you on the firm plane of his abdomen where the heat of something wicked, something wondrous, licks at your lower back, eager for another taste of you. You try to catch your breath, but his kindness doesn't last long. His stomach tenses and you feel the muscles beneath you shift, lines growing taut as he pushes your hips down, grinding your aching body against his hardened one.

"Wait," you gasp, digging your nails into the tattoos across his chest. "Wait, please. I can't."

"Oh?" He raises a brow, head tilting slightly to the right as he appraises you. "I’ve yet to touch you properly, and you’re already falling asleep on me?"

Your eyes narrow in a glare, fleeting and half-hearted at best with how you slump onto him right after.

He chuckles, low and earthy, and you feel it rumble through your own body. As two hands rub circles over your hip bones, another strokes over the top of your head, sharp nails turning soft as a feather as they glide over your scalp. His last hand runs down the ridges of your spine in gentle motions, sure to leave faint lines behind as a reminder of his affection.

"Here I thought you were prepared to go all night for me," he sighs, warming the top of your head with his soft exhale. His hand trails down the side of your face, fingertips brushing your chin as he tilts your head to his own. "You'll give me one more, won't you?"

A part of you wants to say no. It wants to stay just like this and fall asleep in his arms; it wants to fade away to the sounds of his quiet humming and his nails grazing along your skin.

A bigger part of you can't stop itself from focusing on his lower hands — the ones that are snaking their way down from your waist, over the curve of your ass, and to your thighs that still ache at the slightest movement. You can't deny the desire that still simmers inside you, that comes to boil when his hand returns to your slick sex, that darkens your eyes when you catch sight of his dastardly canines.

"There we are," he coos, using his upper two hands to lift you up by your shoulders. The muscles in your thighs twitch and you hold back a wince, too delighted by his sweet approval to worry over the strain. "There's my sweet pet. Always so good for me, aren’t you?"

His eyes roam over your bare body, adoring the way you quiver in his hold as he guides you backwards. "Easy now," he murmurs once you're hovering over where he wants you most. "I'll be gentle, my love, I swear."

The flash of a smirk and past experiences have you casting doubt on his words already. Anticipation flutters in your core the longer he keeps you suspended, mere inches above a part of him so unheard of, so monstrous and dizzying; unholy it may be, the end of the night will have you singing hymns and bowing for more.

He's scorching at first touch. A heated sigh ignites the wetness clinging to your folds until your entire body is set alight by a single stroke.

Your throne, he had declared it to be, the first time he bared himself for you. Your thighs burn as he holds you above your rightful seat, unable to move away when that slick muscle swipes along your sex; it's obscene and lewd, the wet schlick that follows each lap of his tongue, the way his more-human side delights in the depravity of his darker counterpart.

You fall forwards onto him, and he keeps your lower body raised with that unrivalled strength corded in his tendons, ingrained into every inch of his staunch body. Nails like knives prick his chest, drawing blood and throaty groans from him as they bury themselves in his flesh. He doesn't care for the crimson tainting his skin, too enamoured by the sheen coating the hair on your sex, by the sweat and the sweetness that drips into his waiting mouth.

"Oh, god," you sob, dropping your head just as he spreads your thighs apart some more. "Ah, ah, please— too much. Slow, slow down."

You’re so vulnerable.

Through half-lidded eyes, you can see exactly how exposed you are: the veins on his hands are prominent as he holds you above him, pushing your legs further so that devilish tongue of his has more space to wander, to consume. Thick, stringy lines of spit hang between the lips on his stomach and your sodden folds; your inner thighs are glazed and gleaming with his saliva as he noisily licks and nips his way from one leg to the other.

He shushes you quietly, smiling as your breath hitches in your throat when he finally drops you with a muted thud.

"Be patient, won't you?" he murmurs. "Let me take care of you."

You're shaking your head rapidly, vibrating atop him as his tongue unravels and slides along the length of your slit. Two hands grip your behind and, just as you feel them spread your cheeks, the wet muscle follows along messily. If it wasn't for his tight hold, you'd recoil away, but he keeps you still, unmoving as he slurps your trickling cum and circles your rim.

"I can feel your heart racing," he chuckles, withdrawing his tongue and replacing it with a finger. He laps all over you without reprieve — going so far as to slither between your flushed bodies, savouring the sweat and cum that dampens your pubic hair before making his way back to your folds. And he pokes at your puckered entrance, swirling the abundance of slick and spit that pours out of you so wet clicks sound in the pauses between your cries. You don’t know what to focus on: the prodding of his finger, the sweep of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth. "It excites you that much — when I touch you here?” The slightest pressure has you freezing on top of him. Your fingers drill into the thick of his shoulders, the swell of them strong as bark, and just as rough, too. He’s yet to push any further, content with simply teasing around the hole, drawing circle after circle. “Another time, perhaps,” he utters just before his hand retreats to the curve of your ass, groping the supple flesh.

The coil in your stomach winds tighter as the seconds pass. It twines to the point of a pinch, needle-sharp — painful, almost, if it wasn’t allayed by warm hands and a murmured praise.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he asks. His hands brush along your sides, guiding your body in-sync with the swivel and smack of the tongue that protrudes from his stomach. “Let me see you fall apart, let me feel it. Cum for me, pretty thing. Let go, hm?Let it all go for me.”

His mouth works on your sex with an untamed fervour: his teeth, edged and devilish, graze your pulsing clit, applying the slightest force in the form of a bite, and it has you gushing on him; his tastebuds bathe in the steady stream of your essence, inching deeper into your sex with an avid greed for more. Your pussy stretches around him, his tongue flexing with a power that reminds you of how otherworldly the man beneath you is. All you can do is bend to his will. You’re a puppet beneath its master’s control — only ever reacting to his demands, contorting your body to the arc of his palms, helpless to the way he shapes the slant of his tongue on your silken walls.

You near your breaking point when he flicks his tongue over your clit, lapping with a renewed vigour as his fingers sink into you. He curls and sucks and squeezes too many different parts of you, and he doesn’t stop. He curls and sucks and squeezes until you fall apart with a cry of his name, teeth cutting into his shoulder, thighs twitching and tensing around his body. He curls and sucks and squeezes as you tremble in his arms, soaking his sun-kissed skin in a smeary cream.

“There we are,” he cheers. If your eyes weren’t screwed shut, you’d wither beneath his radiant grin. “Don’t hold back, little morsel, I want to taste all of you. Give it all to me.”

You’re deaf to the melody of your debasement. The wet crook of his fingers as they slip out of you is silenced by your tinny, half-choked whine. The drawn-out slurp of his tongue is lewd, only made more obscene when it’s followed by a grateful smack of his lips.

“Too— Too much,” you sob, saliva trickling down the corner of your mouth. It mixes with the blood that seeps from his shoulder, canines puncturing too deep. He won’t let that go without comment, a wolf-like nip from his precious little lamb — he might even forgo healing it, let it scar and memorialise his weakness for you. “No more. Please, no more, I can’t—”

“Shh, no more,” he promises, resting one hand on the back of your head. He calms you down easily, tongue sliding back into his mouth as his hands soothe you with a slow massage. He’s hot as a bonfire beneath you, tamed and welcome like a fireplace that warms your very core. “There, there. Be still, my beating heart.”

Your voice sounds between staggered breaths, quiet, hoarse from the strain. “Never again. That was so... I don’t think I’ll ever walk again.”

He smiles, bearing the pain of your wince as he shifts you upwards, enough so for him to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Fuck. Stop— Stop doing that."

The words spill from his lips in between heavy gasps, hanging in the heady air around you. His head is tilted back and, when you peer up at him through hazy eyes, you stare too long at the clench of his teeth, the way it pronounces the veins pulsing in his neck, and the sweat that rolls down it in beads.

"What was that?" you ask, blinking slowly as you watch him. Low, amber light catches on the sharp angle of his jaw, and he curses your name through gritted teeth when you kiss the very tip of his cock. "You want me to stop?"

You move away and he's just as quick to snap his head to you, midnight blue swallowed whole by the black of night in his irises. "No—" you see his fists clench around the bed sheets, knuckles white with impatience, impulsion "—stop, stop pulling away."

Your hands drift down from his thighs as you lean further away; you smile when you ghost over the fine hairs on his calf, grazing your nails along the skin light enough to tease, to have his toes curling into the carpet around you.

"I don't know what you're talking about, baby," you say, pushing his knees apart and moving closer once more. You dip down to the right, dragging your lips across the inside of his thighs, already damp from earlier attention. He hisses when your hand slides up his other leg, pressing down on the lovebites littering his skin as it makes its way to his cock. He's sensitive like this. The quickest stroke of your thumb over his weeping slit has him gasping for breath; the smallest nibble to his thigh has him whimpering, muscles quivering beneath your incisors. "I'm right here, aren't I?"

"Don't, don't do that—" his voice cracks on the last word and his knee knocks into your shoulder right when you squeeze his length "—again."

You hum into the crease of his leg, the smell of sweat and cum so abundant now that his sex is centimetres away from your face. He's so sensitive like this. You look up at him, and he's already staring you down, half-lidded eyes glazed over with a heady wish to paint over the smug quirk of your lips.

"You're so—" one squeeze of his balls has his words tapering off into a choked moan. When your lips replace your hand, his eyes roll back and his hips stutter off the bed. "Oh, fuck, fuck, yeah. Just— Just like that."

It's a little awkward working over his sac, tongue peeking out to lick over it before sucking what you can into your mouth. It's worth all the effort when you hear his cries. Groans and raspy breaths petering into drawn-out whines when you pull away with a wet pop to lap your way up his length.

His head is thrown back again. Red dusts across his neck in a sultry flourish, and you eye the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallows his whimpers. You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, kitten-licking the pearls that bead there, humming around the flushed head until one hand moves to cover his mouth.

A displeased sound leaves you, more muffled than his own moans that are keening higher and higher as you continue mouthing at his aching sex. You take him in a little further, just enough to graze your teeth on the underside of his shaft, and his hand isn't enough to muzzle the lengthy wail that tears out of him. A bitter tang bursts in your mouth, a small spurt of precum that you swallow mindlessly before pulling off of him again.

An aggravated huff leaves him, something throaty and raw and pained; it's a mutual frustration, his wound bleeding into your open mouth.

"Fucking stop," he whines. It's hard to take his furrowed brows and glare seriously when there are tears tracking his face, when his chest is rising and falling too quickly to express anything but heated yearning. "Please, I—"

"Wanna hear you," you say, lightly tracing over a vein that pulses on his length. "Let me hear you, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," he pants, and his hand falls from his ungraciously, slapping the top of your head and urging you back onto his length. "Okay, okay— fuck, I'm so close."

"So needy," you murmur before wrapping your hand around the base of his cock to guide him back into your mouth. His tip pokes the inside of your cheek, lewd squelches gushing from your mouth as you lavish him in your saliva.

His fingers pull at your roots. There's a dampness covering them and, when you look up at him, you understand why. His lips are bitten raw, swollen, and you're sure that there's blood smeared across the rosy skin. The best part is the diamond glint, the wet coating that flashes brightly under your lenses; saliva shines across the swell of his bottom lip, drool trickles down from the corner of his gaping mouth.

You hold back a taunt about his depravity.

Later tonight, you'll have a field day talking about how pleas for 'more, more, more' streamed out of his mouth like a waterfall, you'll tell him to drop the unbothered facade and remind him of how he drooled like a baby when he raises his walls higher; you'll mock how he whimpered your name and jerked his hips off the bed and cried mercy for your salvation.

You squirm on his length, slipping him into your mouth and working your hand around what hasn't fit. A steady pace is set, bobbing your head up and down, lewd noises echoing as your tongue wets the curve of his length with each pump. There's the brief sound of you gagging around his length when he hits the back of your throat, and it's always followed by his cry, a whimper of 'tight' jumping out of him.

"Fuck, I'm gonna— so, so close. I can’t— can't hold— Let me," he gasps, urging you further down his length. Your lips brush against your fingers as he slips down your throat shortly, stealing the breath from your lungs until you're winded and choking around his girth. "Let me cum, wanna cum, wanna— wanna badly— fuck, gonna cum!"

One hand tightens around his hip, nails digging into his soft skin as you take him as deep as you can manage, staving off the burn of him in your throat by digging deep enough to hurt him. He doesn't seem to care, focused on the 'fuck, fuck, fucking tight' squeeze of your mouth and the way you fondle his balls just to have something to hold.

"Baby, baby, please," he begs, and you can feel the tremors running through his body every time his hands twitch on your head, every time his knee knocks into your body as he bounces his leg. "Don't stop, don't, don't, don't— I'm gonna, gonna cum, don't— please—!"

A guttural scream leaves him when you break away.

It's carnal and brutish, sure to rip right through his vocal chords with how anguished and miserable and desperate he is to be heard. He chases after the feeling of his high, but you counter each of his moves. His hands are batted away from his length. You lean further away so there's nothing for him to rock against. His eyes are closed and crystals spill from the corners as he growls curses at you.

"Was fucking— close, so close, fuck, please," he whines, falling back onto the bed with a heavy thud. Between choked wheezes, you catch his small 'please's, breathy calls of your names, and the rustle of bed sheets as he humps the air, hips stuttering helplessly in want of a long-gone climax. "No, no, no. Fuck, fuck, please!"

"Shh, it's okay," you coo, feeling the slightest bit guilty when his voice cracks on another 'no, please'. The soothing circles you rub on his thighs do little to quell his sobs; the messy sounds of him sniffling tugging at your heartstrings as you watch him rub his eyes. "You're okay."

When one hand trails up to his weeping cock, he winces. "No more, I can't—"

He's hot in the palm of your hand, body spasming in desire despite his slurred words.

"Can't leave you like this," you say, stroking him slowly as blubbers fall from his lips. He shakes his head, but his hips betray him, pathetically jolting up in your grasp. "You wanna cum, don't you?"

His mood perks up instantly, and he's nodding his head and humming in response.

"Let me hear you say it," you urge.

He sucks in a deep breath, holding himself up on shaky elbows just to look right at you. He looks unfairly pretty like this: putty in your hands, tears streaming down his face, lips wobbling as he finally says, "Please— Make me cum, please. Want it so bad."

"And they were tiring," you groan, burrowing your face in the warm fabric of his jumper. A hint of mint lingers in the threads and you would chase after the fragrance if not for him holding your chin and angling your head away. "Megumi…"

"One more," he says. "Answer the first part of this question then we can take a break, okay?"

You pout a little, eyes already drooping with a want to sleep. You look cute. You look downright endearing drawing mindless circles on his thigh as you stare at him, silently trying to convince him to take a break now, but he's not going to budge. He raises his brows expectantly, almost daring you to whine once more, but you huff and turn away, reading the question on your paper. 

"Good girl." He smiles when you brighten at that, mood lifting from the shred of praise. "What does it say?"

"The first part says 'define and compare analytic and synthetic truths.'"

He hums, leaning in to hover beside you, reading the question over for himself. He knows he's gone over this with you before, and he hopes you remember what he taught you and not the proposition for anal you made after seeing 'analytic'.

He watches as you worry over your bottom lip, licking away the strawberry gloss as you mumble the terms over and over, trying to rack your brain for the answer. There's a cute crease forming between your brows and he would joke about you getting wrinkles now, but he doesn't want to break your flow. 

"I know this," you whine, leaning your chin on your hand and glaring down at the sheet of paper. "'Gumi, we did this, I know we did, but I can't— all I can think about is anal now. I remember that."

He's not surprised that your mind has drifted, though he does feel a little bad at how much you're stressing over the question now. He's about to give you a clue when you gasp and turn to him with stars in your eyes.

"It's the— It's the boring one, right?"

And he has no idea where you're going with this, but he says, "Yeah, go on."

"It's, like, with logic and stuff?" you say, tilting your head like a little robin, and he can't help but smile, nodding to encourage you. "And, um, the meanings of words, right?"

He's proud of you — he really is — but it's hard to stay focused on your clueless expression, on your wide eyes waiting for him to put you out of your misery, when he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. 

He coughs, praying you keep looking at him and not down at his thighs where your hand has wandered back to. "Yeah, yeah, you got it."

"Really?" You cheer up, squeezing his thigh a little and he tenses, feeling himself harden as your warmth seeps into his clothes. "That doesn't sound fancy enough, though."

"We'll work on that later. Can you— Can you give me an example?"

He hopes you don't dwell on him fumbling over his words, too busy focusing on your fingers drumming along the inner slope of his thigh.

You hum, biting your lip as you think.

Fuck. He shouldn't have looked down, he should've kept his eyes glued to your own because now he can't tear them away from the plump swell of your bottom lip, the smear of your gloss and the tender skin that's hidden beneath the shine. Fuck.

His eyes fall even lower to where your hand is inches away from the tent in his pants. It's pathetic. It's disgusting. It's unfathomably embarrassing that you answering one little thing correctly has him hard as a brick. But, it's undeniable that he twitches — that his trousers get a little tighter, his dick a little harder — when you exclaim, "Like one plus one is two!"

You even smack his thigh when you jolt upright in your excitement, and he hopes you missed the whimper that squeaked out of him at the movement.

"Yeah, yeah, like that. Good— Good job." He ends with a stoic nod, about to tell you to finish the rest of the question when your lips turn down.

"You okay, baby? You're red all of a sudden."

"I'm fine," he replies, feeling anything but. He's lying through his teeth and he doesn't know whether to feel annoyed that you're focusing on him when he doesn't want that, or to feel loved by you caring for him over something so… Itadori-esque. If only you knew the truth.

"You don't feel too hot," you say, checking his temperature with the back of your hand. Your other one still sits dangerously close to his hard-on. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Come on, next question." You drop it and he's grateful for a split second until you shift to look at the paper again, and your arm grazes his hardness.

Don't say anything. Don't say anything. Please, don't say any—

You giggle.

"Oh."

Fuck.

You're biting your lip again — not that he can tell because as soon as he heard your tinkling laughter, he closed his eyes to try and drown out the sound. 

"Megumi," you start, a teasing lilt in your voice as you draw out the syllables until he grumbles a reply. "Megumi, baby."

"Don't," he gets out through the grit in his throat. "Just— Get to work."

You hum a sweet agreement, but he should've known better. He should've been more attuned to you, and less… whatever he has going on with him right now.

Especially when he feels your hand slide up his thigh.

"That's not—" He almost wheezes when you squeeze over his bulge, thoughts draining from his mind as you massage him slowly. "Fuck, stop."

"I'm just getting to work like you said, baby." He can feel the gentle tiptoe of your fingers moving up, feel them skim across the sliver of skin left bare between his sweatpants and his jumper. "Is this what you want?"

"That's not—" he gulps, hands closing around the edge of his chair as he lets you slide your hand down his pants. It's a tight fit, but that doesn't matter to him; your fingers barely graze his hardness and it's enough to make him jerk in his seat. "You know that's not what I meant."

"You're not complaining, though," you comment, shifting closer to litter teasing kisses along his jaw. You can feel the grind of bone on bone, the hard line of his angled face softened by the gentle pecks you lay along the curve. His pulse races beneath your lips, only made worse when you nibble over the tender spot until he lets out a quiet groan. "I think you like it. Pretty boy Megumi gets all weak and hard over some studying. Just wait till I tell Nobara this."

He chuckles. A little breathless, a lot tired of the attitude. 

A hand wraps around your forearm and you freeze.

Without another word, your arm goes slack in his hold, letting him pull your hand out of his trousers with no hassle. 

You really shouldn't have brought up Nobara.

You can't tell what he's thinking, navy eyes barely glancing over your form when he tugs you along, hauling you onto his lap. His chest is firm along your body and his cock pokes your lower back, but he pays it no mind.

"Synthetic truths. Answer."

You slump in his hold. "Seriously? Aren't we—"

"Answer it now," he demands, squeezing your waist so you straighten up. "If you get it right, I'll think about letting you cum."

"That's not fair," you mumble, crossing your arms and rereading the sheet in front of you.

"Should've thought of that before you got all smart on me."

"You like when I'm smart," you tease, pushing back on the hardness that still digs into you before he holds you still. 

"If I don't hear an answer soon, we're both going to be disappointed."

You huff, blinking to clear the cloudiness in your eyes so you can focus on the words a little better. 

"They're, um," you start, murmuring the words over and over in hopes it jogs your memory. You think you're crawling closer to the answer, nearing the tip of the iceberg when you feel Megumi's hands ghost over your stomach. "Megumi?"

"Try again," he says, more focused on pulling the ends of your skirt up so the fabric pools around your waist. "Come on, you can do it."

"They're the—" you gasp when one cold finger teases over your clit through your panties, fumbling over your words as he lightly taps down to the growing wet spot then back up again. "The ones with the, the thing that— that says— M-Megumi, please."

He clicks his teeth, moving his fingertip over the bud with a painstaking slowness. Your nails dig into your palm when he pulls aside the cloth to play with your pussy, a quiet squelch sounding when he finally sinks his finger into you. "Almost there," he murmurs, brushing his nose along your neck, rubbing against your silken walls. "Just say a little more for me."

"They're the ones with — ah, more, more, please," you whimper. He indulges you for now, slipping in a second finger and then holding still.

He kisses the crook of your neck. "Go on."

"It's about experience," you say, but it sounds more like a question with the way your pitch rises at the end. You're on the right track, though, and Megumi rewards your progress by curling his fingers, a gesture that has your back arching, moans slipping from your mouth. "Experience! Like, like, um, what you— what you know because you, you feel so good—" he clicks his teeth again, pulling his fingers out to lightly slap your sex before pushing three fingers back in "—sorry, sorry! It's when you, you know it because you see it. Like, like with your senses."

He hums, burying himself down to the knuckles, carving his prints into the soft walls of your pussy as he strokes and curls his fingers. "Is that your final answer?"

"Yes! Yes, please, Megumi—"

"Alright," he sighs, pulling his fingers out of you with a lewd squelch. "You did well."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, and you feel his smile when he leaves a kiss on your head. "I'm proud of you. Stand up for me."

You waste no time in getting up, using the table in front of you for support when your knees tremble too much. With a low utterance of 'good girl', Megumi bunches your skirt up, pinning it to your lower back with one hand as the other pushes your underwear down.

"You ready?" he asks, guiding the head of his cock along your dripping sex.

"Yes, hurry," you whine, hitting the desk when he circles your clit with his tip, smearing the pre that beads at the top. "Put it in."

"Wait." His tongue strikes his teeth and he stops moving. "You didn't give me an example."

"What?"

"Give me an example of a synthetic truth."

"Are you kidding me?" You try pushing yourself back onto him, but he keeps you at bay with the hand on your back. "Megumi, please, want it so bad."

"The sooner you answer—" he slaps his cock against your slick folds, and you can hear how sloppy and wet you are from all his teasing "—the sooner you can cum."

"Please," you sob. Megumi's sure that if he looked over your shoulder right now, he'd see your mascara running in rivulets. "'Gumi, please, I'll answer after, I swear, just fuck me." He makes a sound of disapproval that you huff at, turning your face to him — his lips quirk when he sees the mess of crystals and carbon black on your cheeks. "You're so mean."

"That's not nice," he mumbles, resting the blunt head of his cock just outside your aching entrance. "But I'll accept it."

The debauched cry you let out when he finally pushes into you sends a shiver down his spine. It's easy to sheathe himself all the way given how wet you are. A creamy ring circles the base of his length when he pulls out, and a filthy pap rings out when he buries himself in again.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, rearing his hips and setting a steady pace. Short, swift thrusts have your breath knocking out of you, body keeling over as his hands grip your waist firmly enough to bruise. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"Just for— for you," you pant, whimpering his name when one hand comes to flick over your clit. The table beneath you shakes under the pressure when Megumi trades speed for power; he relishes the way your pussy clamps down around his length as he sinks all the way in. He pulls out and a choked moan escapes him when you drag him back in just as quickly, your nails digging into his soft thighs as you beg for him to go harder. "Please, please, need more—"

"Yeah," he pants, nudging your legs further apart so he can hammer into you more deeply, balls slapping against your clammy skin with each fervent move. "Yeah, I've got you. Shit— you're so— so tight."

It's dumb-founding how a straight A student like Megumi can be brought down to his knees by you. He can deal with lab work and back-to-back deadlines with minimal stress, but your glassy eyes and sopping pussy have him fumbling for words; just the sight of your slick drenching his thighs has his mind blanking, his thoughts reduced to baser instincts, animalistic groans and curses all that pour out of his mouth.

It doesn't help that he can hear how wet you are. Obscene noises echo each time his hips clap against your ass, and the sound of slick gushing out of you fills his mind every time he looks down to where you're both connected.

"So fucking messy," he rasps. "I can't— can't hold it. Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

"Wanna cum," you cry, and he tilts his hips just a little to the left to have you careening. The tip of his length nudges that soft spot in you that has your entire body tensing, calling his name in broken wails as he doesn't let up.

It isn't much longer until you're boneless in his hold, stars dotting your vision behind closed eyes. He's still pumping into you, rolling around your clit so you sob from all the stimulation, hiccupping, ‘Can't, no more, 'Gumi,’ like a helpless plea. A few thrusts more and he's slumping over your body, buried down to the base inside you, groaning as he finally cums. Your pussy clenches around him in tired pulses, draining him of all his energy, milking him for all his worth.

He blinks away the haze in his eyes, smiling tiredly at the wet squelch that sounds when he pulls his softened length out. His legs feel weak and exhausted, but he manages to bend down enough to pull your panties back up, narrowly catching the way his cum seeps out and darkens the cloth. He falls back onto his seat, dragging you with him since you’re still shaking in place, knees nearly buckling.

"We should— We should take a break," he gets out, helping you when you shift to rest your head on his chest. You hum and he kisses your head before continuing, "No more rewards until you've finished all the work."

"This was all your fault," you say, and he savours the way you struggle to catch your breath. "Getting all— Getting hard when I'm just trying to study."

"Sorry." A part of him is sorry — the part of him that's embarrassed by his newfound weakness, conjuring all the ways you could exploit it to your advantage in the future — but the majority of him is still basking in the afterglow, not too bothered by the derailment of your study session.

"It's fine," you mumble. He really should stop you from nuzzling into his chest because you look like you're about to fall asleep, but you look endearing and he figures a short rest won't harm either of you. That is, until you continue, "I'm still telling Nobara, though."

"Turn around."

You do as he says and it's not a moment later that you feel his chest against your back, firm muscles and an all-encompassing warmth surrounding you. His breath fans across your neck, tickling the skin as he brushes chapped lips over you in a gentle kiss. "You're a piece of work, you know?"

You hum in agreement, closing your eyes and basking in his embrace. It's nice. The weight of his arm feels good around you, and the way his hand splays across your stomach to hold your body against his burns through your clothes, heating you up in all the best ways. It's amazing, if not a little scary — how comfortable you can be around someone so dangerous, how just being in his arms makes you forget about all your worries.

Most of them, anyway.

You stay like that for a few minutes, trying your best to just sink into his hold and drift off to sleep, but it's no use.

You sigh and call his name and he huffs like he was already expecting you to still be awake.

"Real piece of work."

"It's not my fault," you groan, yawning into your hand. It's almost laughable how your body is more than ready to fall asleep, but your mind is running a mile a minute, thinking of nothing and everything and all that rests between.

"Yeah, yeah," he utters. "Open your mouth."

Once again, you do as he says without question, just hope at the tip of your tongue that this plan of his will work. There's nothing special about the way his hand floats up your body. Two fingers slip past the seam of your lips to coat themselves in your spit. Your mouth feels a little dry, and the moment is a bit awkward since he's half asleep and still sluggish, but you make do. Saliva pools in your mouth and you lap at his fingertips until he pulls them out. His other arm weasels its way beneath your body, fingers hooking into your pajama trousers and underwear to pull them away, so his wet ones can slide in without hassle.

His fingers are coarse to the touch after a lifetime of labour, but they're heavenly on your body. It adds a certain roughness, makes every action feel a little more powerful and firm than the last, and he's nothing if not blessed with his hands and body.

He rubs slow circles over your clit, keeping your hips still with his other arm when you start squirming because of his motions. You can't help but whimper at the loss when his fingers dip down a bit to wade in your arousal, but your eyes roll back as soon as he returns. His wrist must be cramping in the tight confines, but he makes it work, fingers rolling over the bud a little more easily with your slick coating them.

"Come on, sweetheart," he drawls, voice husky with sleep. Each murmured syllable is low and rich; dark chocolate words rolling off his tongue steady like molasses, heady like the haze clouding your mind. His nose grazes along the crook of your neck to plant another dry kiss there. "Cum for me, yeah? You can do it. Nice and slow for me."

Just like he says, the build-up is nice and slow. Each circle drawn around your clit is another drop of ambrosia in the pit of your arousal, and it feels so good — so, so good — when he shifts his fingers a little to the right to press from a new angle and stars burst behind your eyelids. A broken whine escapes you as he fixates on that sensitive spot, breath tightening with a mewled ah, there, there, there and it isn't much longer that your release washes over you in calm, lulling waves; it's more akin to pouring warm honey than tides crashing at the shore, the slow, budding feeling of drowsiness making you focus solely on his fingers as he eases you down from your high.

Your mind feels light as a feather now, eyes staying closed as you gradually catch your breath. Your body an anchor, sinking into the clutches of sleep that you'd been aching the entire night for.

You try to call Touji, murmur a quick Love you, or even a thank you — you're not even sure which one to settle on, too tired to express your gratitude; your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, and you're not sure if the words come out slurred, if at all. You'll thank him properly in the morning if he's still here.

"You sleeping?" he asks, and you hum tiredly, shifting back into his warmth when he pulls his hand from your trousers. "Mm, fuck, wait."

You hum again, and he presses his hips closer so you can feel the firmness of his length through your clothes.

"Got me all—" he pauses to muffle a yawn into your shoulder before continuing "—all worked up."

Another hum. You feel him move around a little, hear the ruffle of bed sheets and his clothes before you feel his cock, a little heavier, a lot hotter poking against your lower back. You can't bring yourself to move when he pushes your trousers down, too. They don't go all the way, just far enough so that he can nudge his cock in between your thighs.

"Fuck," he groans when you squeeze your legs around him. Your body feels like lead, heavy and unmoving, and he's graphite, dragging his hips back and forth to enjoy the friction of your body around his cock. "So fucking good."

Your arousal trickles out of you as he pushes his length along your entrance, wetting the flushed skin of his cock before he lifts your leg atop his to create some space. His movements are lethargic, his mind wanting to slumber, his body craving your tight warmth, and he can't satisfy the former without obeying the latter.

He's not sure if you're even still awake, but you do let out a low groan when he pushes his cock into your sex. It's tight — you'll probably wake up to the consequence of little prep and be less than pleased, but he's too busy relishing the clench and heat around his length to care for that.

He savours the yearning hold of your walls when he pulls back slowly, and enjoys the quiet pap of his balls on the curve of your ass when he pushes back in. He's using up the final dredges of his stamina. There's another thrust, then he stays inside and rolls his hips against you, once, twice, just to see if you tighten around him. Then he thrusts again — or, he tries to. He's just so tired, though, and his movements feel lifeless, like he's nudging you with the tip of his cock and your body barely responds to his half-hearted efforts.

It isn't long before he's weakly spurting his cum into you. He's almost glad that you're too tired to comment — or too busy sleeping, he's still not sure — because he knows you would have made some snarky remark about him not lasting long. He can't bring himself to care about it when his cock softens inside you and the energy in his body completely depletes. He feels like a shell of a man yet he's never been fuller, left satiated but hollow from the fatigue. He hisses when you shift a little, your leg falling off of his, making you tighter around his length.

Kento crosses his legs one upon the other as Yuuji's hands curl around your back. His lips work on your neck lines while Kento rests his hands on his knees clamping his fingers as you look at him. You want to a reaction from him, you need a reaction from him but all he does is to sit intact locking his eyes to you.

Kento is sitting on a solo settee facing you and Yuji's muscular bare back. His dull glares challenges you as your eyes maintain his stares. Yuji adjusts you by cupping your butt, giving a prolonged squeeze.

"Wanna eat you so bad", Yuuji's states as Nanami leaves his seat. He walks the other way around ; you try to look at him but Yuuji's teeth exploits your soaking glistening nipples. "Do not mark her ", nanami speaks as he stands behind you, your ear catches the slick sound of an undressing man. Nanami trails his finger on your back barely touching as he drops his scarlet coat on the floor.

His palms clusters your loose long hair in a curl; tilting your face in his way; he studies you, a small smirk and then his lips crashes on yours. Yuuji pushes you up so as you lean your body against the big man. He takes out his cock, rubbing , sliding his fingers all over your naked upper half. A trail of quivering moans echoes as you try to retreat but possibly couldn't.

Ken's grip is too strong. Your hands roam on Kento's sharp jawline as he finally breaks the kiss. Yuuji licks his fingers and slides into your pulsating cunt. Two men exchanged glares as you inhale a sharp breath. Nanami cups both of your molds while Yuuji exploits your folds, mercilessly. You whimper under the influence of both touches. You whimper too much to not gain Kento's attention.

He shuts you up by cupping your mouth as Yuuji keeps thrusting his fingers with quicker pace. His other hand occasionally plays with your bud. You still moan: it's so hard not to. So, Kento rubs his fingers on your lips and you instantly start sucking hugging his torso. You're close, Yuuji senses it and lowers the pace. "Stop", a harsh voice commands.

Nanami adds, "Fuck her! Fuck her nice and good for me!" Yuuji pumps his cock a few times before going in , again. "There, there! Easy , baby!" Kento coos as you lean against his belly button. His voice is soft, gentle not like when he talks to Yuuji. He braids your hair and kisses the lower end if your nape. His teeth digs into your neckline, above your chest, near your boobs. He keeps exploiting as your whimpers get louder calling out his name occasionally: "Oh ken— "baby please! — "don't stop…

Yuuji holds your torso as you kiss him, his dry lips. Your hands slides onto his cock, rubbing it. Yuuji throws his head backwards breaking the kiss. His hands hangs as you thrust harder looking at Ken for the next cue. Nanami watches you intently as you bite your lip, hands still gliding around Yuuji's cock. He comes to your way rewarding you with just a soft dry kiss and retreats.

"You may move now!" Nanami speaks and you feel a burning sensation as Yuuji teases your soaking cunt sliding the tip of his cock against your folds. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he goes inside you. "She's so tight, sir!", Yuuji exclaims with a twitch as your plush walls clench around his cock. "Still?", Nanami adds.

Nanami leans against the table, closing his hands in his chest as he watches Yuuji's cock ramming against your cunt hungrily. You are too busy to look at him. It's a marvelous sight for Ken. You sitting on another man, bobbing up and down , boobs following the pace as he gets to decide your moves, your actions. "So close! 'mmm close itah!" You screech while Nanami joins the conversation. "But you can't cum now baby girl, until he's done! "

"Yuji, you close ?", he asks with a tone of irritation as you moan Itah's name not his.

"Not yet sir!"

Your hands roam around your tits grabbing them as you accelerate the rhythm. Kento clicks his tongue; his jaw clenches as his hands proceeds to your nipples. He pinches it as Yuuji yells, "gonna cum! yeaah!"

A smirk reaches your ear followed by the same soft voice, "want him to fill you up, baby?"

"No — No — i want you, ken! Please"

"Atta girl ! ", he praises and kisses on your temple. "you heard her!" Nanami states looking at Itadori. Yuuji gasps as he pulls out his cock while it's fluid spills over your thighs, lower belly.

Your inner thighs ache as Nanami drags you out of his lap placing you on the table. He stretches your legs to get wider access to your feminity. His bulge grazing your ravished feminity. Yuuji dresses himself up & proceeds to wash his hands. "Itadori! Leave, now." , he commands and he's gone after washing his hands out of the matter.

You start to unbuckle Ken's belt by locking him with your legs. He chuckles at your impatient impulse. Loosening his tie he arches your wrist on the valley of your waist; ties your wrist to the back. His lips presses soft gentle kiss on your cheeks, temples while his hands rests along your thighs.

You rest your face on his shoulders as he starts biting your neck, sucking occasionally when you're moaning out of pain. His cock glides against you and you instantly cum making his area moist. You gasp nervously as he pulls out. "Sorry I —

"It's okay baby!", Kento reassures.

But it just opened the gates of your guilt.

"Ken, never make me do that again. never watch me get fucked by other men, ever.

"You said you're okay with this, I asked you so many times !" He's serious, worried. He adds as his arms wrap a cover around you body, "it's not like we haven't done this before …" He abruptly unties your hand and holds you close, before you fall apart. He takes your hand in his kissing on your swollen reddened zone of your wrists he coos, "I'm here! Just right here!"

"I know and I'm sorry! " , you were almost at the verge of crying as you bury your face into your palms.

"Shhhh! Shhhh! Come here" , he adds as he takes you in his embrace; your head resting on his chest. He deeply sighs for being too harsh on you today. He must have engaged himself in those activities. He regrets as he gently caresses you hair, body; running his sturdy hands upon your exhausted body yet it feels so soft.

"Daddy's gonna make it alright! Daddy's gonna take care of his pretty princess!"

And you hug him tightly wrapping your arms around his shoulders ; tears coming to a pause as his hugs tightens; burying his face along your shoulder, kissing you affectionately. He places dry soft kisses over the burning bite marks.

You pull out wiping your face letting out a sigh. Your eyes fell on his bulge as you sway your palms away. Cupping his crotch you exclaim," what about this daddy?" He chuckled and said "you're so cute sometimes!"