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Jax was already buried between your legs, eating your cunt like a starving man before you even woke. Your body, though, was wide awake and shattered for him once again.
“Fuck, you are dripping onto my sheets,” he growled between nipping and sucking at your clit. “I knew you’d turn into a slut the moment you had my cock.”
You woke to an orgasm and rough hands holding your legs open. Jax was staring at your pulsing cunt, a shit-eating grin on his lips. “Finally awake? You almost missed the best part.”
“What?” You were still sleepy and sore thanks to last night’s activities. Jax wouldn’t keep his hands to himself. Whenever you believed he was done fucking you, he used his hand, fingers, cock, or mouth to force another orgasm out of you.
“Get up, sleepyhead,” he growled, diving back in to kiss your pussy lips. “I want to get you on my cock. He’s hungry for you.”
“Jax, I’m worn out and,” you yawned. “It’s too early for sex or anything. Let me sleep.”
“No can do,” he dragged you out of bed. You were still butt-naked, but he didn’t care when he guided you out of his bedroom. “You will sing for me again.”
“Where are we going?” You complained when he pushed you onto the balcony. “JAX!”
Jax grabbed you, yanking you flush against his chest. His calloused hands gripped your hips as he ground his rigid length against your sore core.
“You said that I cannot fuck my skanks on the balcony, so from now on, I’ll only fuck you here,” he rumbled, voice deep and rough. Without warning, he spun you around, shoving you up against the railing of the balcony.
Gasping, you tried to find your voice. Everyone walking past your apartment could easily see you and Jax. You struggled to stop him as you curled your fingers around the cold metal railing. “P-please, Jax, anyone could see!”
“I don’t care,” he growled before pouncing on you. He grabbed your hips with one hand to guide the blunt head of his cock into your dripping entrance.
You whined, as when he sank into your hole. “Fuck, you are always so wet for me, whore.” He didn’t waste much time. His hips snapped forward in a punishing rhythm that had you gasping for air. You cried out, gripping the railing even harder as he pounded into you with merciless abandon.
Your desperate cries mingled with his grunts and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Jax leaned in, sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck as one hand slipped between your legs.
“Look at her getting fucked like a whore.” He laughed when one of your neighbors hurriedly walked past the obscene scene taking place on Jax’s balcony.
“Fuck you,” you whimpered, but it was too late. He rubbed your clit, forcing your body to give in. You fell over the edge with a cry.
Jax roared, his hips slamming harder into your ass before he emptied himself inside you, marking you once again.
He wrapped one arm around your middle, holding your trembling body against his chest. Jax remained inside, still slowly rutting into you as a trickle of his seed dripped down your thighs.
“You’re mine,” he rasped in your ear. “No one can have this cunt but me.” Jax kissed your cheek. “Let’s get you inside. I don’t want them to get another peek.”
All roughness vanished after he pulled out. Jax picked you up, helping you wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you inside the bathroom, helping you get into the shower on wobbling legs.
“Are you good?” He worriedly looked at you. “If I was too rough, tell me. If…you can always tell me to stop. We should think of a safe word.”
“Softie,” you snorted and slapped his chest. “Where’s the rough guy fucking me over a balcony railing?”
“You’re a naughty minx,” Jax grinned, his eyes glued to your lips. “I should keep you here and never let you go.”
“Well then, we need flowers on the balcony and less smoking.” You retorted.
“Negotiable,” he replied with a shrug. “Everyone tells me my apartment needs the woman’s touch. Or we could just look for a new and bigger place. You know, more rooms to fuck in.”
You cocked a brow. Jax looked like he thought about making you his little minx for quite a while. “We will see.”
“How about I show that I can be a very attentive boyfriend?” Jax grinned before dropping to his knees. “I’ll clean this pretty pussy up…”
Synopsis. Every specimen: the hot nerd that tutors you, his punk best friend, the pink-haired frat president, the sensible history professor, the emo boy with 11 inches, the buff campus security! They have only one thing in common—bréeding you.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader, Geto Suguru x Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x Reader, Nanami Kento x Reader, Choso Kamo x Reader, Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, college AU, nerd!Gojo, punk!Geto, frat boy!Sukuna, professor!Nanami, emo boy!Choso, security guard!Toji, ALL of the JJK men (at once), f/m/m/m/m/m/m, ovuIation, BRÉEDING, mentions of having kids, oraI (fem + maIe rec.) handj’s, fíngering, manhandIing, HEADLOCKS, biiig stretches, spítting, chokíng, p talking, rough s, restraints, they’re FÉRAL, Geto with piercings, Choso with piercings, making Gojo whímper, first times (Gojo), everyone penetrates at some point, D descriptions, big D’s. dírty taIk, voyéurism, running from it, bickering during it, EiffeI tower, DP, DÚMBlFICATlON, MAJOR overstím, anaI pIay, matíng presses, fuIl neIsons, cervíx kíssing, lessons, waIked in on, SLOPPY s, slight exhíbitíonism, creampíes (like a lot), cúmpIay, cúmfIation, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 20.4k
A/N. Happy new year!!
“—thus, during this stage of ovulation it is natural to experience a surge in the luteinizing hormone (LH), which heightens the desire to…” Gojo trails off.
You’re looking up from your notes, just in time to catch him pushing his glasses up his ruddied face. Hands shaking. Breaths heavy. You tilt your head in confusion, “Which heightens the desire to what, Satoru?”
“You know…”
You’re shaking your head with a laugh, “Isn’t that why I begged you to become my tutor?”
“It increases the desire for ah…an interplay of intimacy from which…blossoms the natural by-product of a…um—” His voice cracks. And seeing your look of concern, Gojo lets out a stabilizing breath and tries again, “The…the birds and the bees?”
“Ah!” Stifling a giggle, “You mean it heightens the desire to get pregnant.”
And you take your sweet, sweet time jotting it down in your notes - long enough that Gojo Satoru hopefully calms down-
“…Do you feel it?”
“What?”
“Do you feel the desire to get pregnant?”
The pen clatters out of your hand.
“W-wait, I’ll get it!” Gojo stammers out, disappearing beneath the long library table before you can say anything. His head of angelic white hair contrasts against the sleek mahogany, so at odds with the devilish question that’d just left his mouth - so perhaps it was only so fitting that when Gojo sunk in to get your pen…you could feel his soft hair graaaaaze against your thigh-
You shiver- sweeping a look around at the bored university students to make sure that nobody saw. Or overheard.
And in the next second, he’s coming back up.
“I believe this is yours.” Gojo’s lips tremble in shyness, flushed as if you’d just thrown him into a furnace. He holds the pen out gingerly towards you, which you take - along with a moment to inspect him. Admire him, more like.
Gojo Satoru.
Human Calculator.
A++ being the lowest grade he’d ever gotten.
Pigs would fly before he didn’t take the #1 spot on the Dean’s List.
It didn’t need to be said that Gojo Satoru was one of the sharpest minds on campus - yes, perhaps even amongst the professors. For you’d seen Yaga hold him back after class on more than one occasion to become marvelled by his physics thesis.
But that wasn’t where the problem lay.
The problem lay in the fact that not only was Gojo one of the smartest men you’ve ever met - but he was one of the cutest, too. That snow-white hair and ice-blue eyes made it impossible not to spot him amongst a crowd - always a few heads taller than everyone else, always crushing some textbook to his chest.
Thick glasses. Fast steps.
He nervously avoided eye contact in the hallways, and it’d taken you multiple tries to successfully tap at his shoulder and get his attention. Earlier in the semester, you’d pleaded your case to Gojo about how you’d been getting absolutely abysmal grades in Yaga’s class lately. After that it’d only taken you a little poking and prodding (‘do it for the love of science!’) to successfully convince the nerdy boy to tutor you once a week.
Though he was blushing and fidgeting throughout the entire interaction…
The tutoring became a routine. The routine became a rhythm. The rhythm became a relationship that you’d honestly consider to be good friends.
Through these sessions you discovered that Gojo became rather talkative when he wanted to be, rather sweet, rather funny. And you weren’t blind to his good looks either, of course…In less than a semester’s time, you reached one of the top five spots in Yaga’s class. Despite that, the two of you continued your little tutoring sessions in your back corner of the library every week like normal.
Well, normal except for right now-
“Thank you.” You’re belatedly saying, gesturing at the pen.
To which Gojo scratches behind his neck sheepishly, “It’s no problem, of course!” He flushes even deeper the moment you turn your eyes towards him, looking as though he wished to sink into the light blue ocean of his sweater. “And about what I said earlier-” His pale brows scrunch together in a way that made him look adorably pleading. “-forget about it. Forget I ever asked something so-”
“I do.”
He snaps his azure eyes towards you at your interruption, twinkling behind his glasses. “P-pardon?”
“What you asked me.” You’re leaning over the table, the neckline of your shirt dipping juuust a tad—and you watch as Gojo gulps when his eyes flicker down. Unable to help himself. “I do feel the desire to get fucked pregnant sometimes.”
Gojo flinches at the way you’d worded it, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. “Sometimes?”
“Sometimes when I ovulate. Sometimes just in general on those late nights, I guess.” Your eyes hone in on the squirming man, “Though that depends on who I’m thinking of at the time.”
“Thinking of who’d be the-”
“The father, yes.”
Pushing his glasses up with jittery hands. “And have you ever thought of…” His question trails off, voice sounding as parched as if he’d just run several marathons in the scorching heat. And he was burning up just as much.
You cock your head to the side, “You?” He jolts at the mere word.
Only nodding.
“Would you be upset if I said yes?”
Only shaking his head.
And then Gojo mutters something underneath this breath that you don’t quite pick up on.
“What was that, Satoru?”
When Gojo looks at you once more, you notice that his eyes are blown wide. Dazed. Daydreaming. Beads of perspiration form on his upper lip as he stutters, voice oddly high. “I said- you’re set to ovulate in about t-two to three days from now.” Your mouth drops a little—didn’t that lil’ app on your phone say the same thing just yesterday? How did he know? Under the table, Gojo’s knuckles were pure white and gripping his knees. “I ah- one time you were late to a session because of your cramps. And ever since then I always sort of…kept track, you see.”
Your eyes widen- so that was how Gojo always somehow knew to sneak your favorite sugary treats into the library on the days of your period. You did begin to wonder…
“I…I see.”
“You see.”
You cock your head at him, “And do men feel the same desire?”
He whispers, “Depending on the person…”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” Like the most sinful confession.
Without a word you’re reaching out and tugging his notebook towards you. His breath hitches as he watches you flip between pages of neat handwriting - lessons curated just for you - before pausing at the very end of it.
You’re biting back a smile at the way he’d scribbled your name over and over on the last page, hearts doodled around each one. You write—-The pregnancy list.
1. Gojo Satoru.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Every good experiment has an apparatus list.” You’re looking up at Gojo with a sly smile, “You taught me that.”
Certainly not like this. “I did, but-” He looks around as though someone in the library would walk by and see what you’re writing.
“And every good experiment has material considerations, too, right?”
“W-well, yes, but…”
You continue to write.
1. Gojo Satoru.
Super cute
Probably a big D
Secret freak (tracked ovulation!??)
However has no experience (not quite a con?) and no place to fuck in (single bed + has a roommate, Geto)
“Hmm, how do you feel about being the independent variable?” You tap your pen on your chin.
Gojo whips his confused blue eyes towards you, a tiny furrow between his white brows. “What do you…”
“The independent variable.” Just in time, you’re looking up to catch the sight of a certain black-haired man entering the library. And you know who it is instantly - there was no man quite as pretty as him on campus. Handsome, sure. But this pretty? It was your best friend, someone you’d met in your first year and knew even before you knew Gojo. “Just like you’re tutoring me now, Satoru, haven’t you ever thought of someone-” His silver piercings glinting in the daylight. His stylishly tattered Sex Pistols t-shirt showing off toned skin. His lips stretching into a feline grin as he spots the two of you. “-tutoring you?”
Something electric runs down Gojo’s body, and he’s just about to turn and look behind when-
Geto Suguru throws an arm over his best friend’s shoulders and tackles him into a headlock, winking at you. “Hard at work, gorgeous?”
You nod, because the one thing about lists was that when you started one—you just wanted to keep on adding to it.
2. Geto Suguru.
Fucking PRETTY
Rings
In a band
Already super close friends. Two in one go??
.
.
.
SUGONDEEZNUTS created a groupchat.
SUGONDEEZNUTS added Gojo Satoru.
SUGONDEEZNUTS added you.
SUGONDEEZNUTS named the groupchat ‘Juno, y’know?’
SUGONDEEZNUTS: Yo, sorted a place big enough for us~
SUGONDEEZNUTS: 8PM.
SUGONDEEZNUTS added RyomenTheK!ng.
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.
.
“C-could you keep your panties on, sweetheart?” Gojo blushes as he stutters out the words. He’s looking down between your legs and slidin’ a thumb between your pussylips, collecting the slick syrup gathered on top of your light blue underwear.
You raise a brow, “I didn’t think you’d be the type to have a panty fetish, Satoru.” Maybe you were right about him secretly being a freak…
“It’s just- they’re the same color as my eyes.” Those very same blue irises peak out at you above the rim of his glasses, partially fogged with condensation. “M-makes me think that we’re having…a boy in nine months or something like that. Maybe twins. A boy and a girl?”
Your jaw drops, “Oh-”
And it’s the only noise you’re managing to get out before Gojo slots his pretty pink cockhead between your legs. Just letting the thick curvature of it press aside your pussy’s folds before he’s rutting—like an animal.
Gojo was just painfully hard already, swollen with need, bursting out in bouts of precum that left your thighs all wet. He was just so excited—he’d damn near cried once he managed to get you sprawled out on a bed that wasn’t yours. One of his doughy pink thumbs swipin’ your underwear to the side and getting a goooood long look at that pussy of yours-
“N-ngh—” His eyes fall shut, entire body shuddering at the sensation of your pussy throb-throb-throbbing away beneath him. Erection sliding down your front. Sandwiched by your cunt. Gojo Satoru - always so eloquent, always so intelligent with his words - can only heave his body forward and whimper- “S-scientifically, the presence of your panties won’t be a haaah- limitation in me breeding your pussy, right?”
“What are you even asking…” You’re blinking up at him, “Satoru, you’re not seriously that pussydrunk, are y-”
“Oh look…” Gojo’s eyes widen as he watches a webbed line of his own precum slide down your slit, and that only leaves his sharp mind racing. “Scientifically, can your pussy talk, sweetheart? Because your unica mucosa vaginae is sounding like she wants me already.”
And then follows the utterly sloppiest squelch as Gojo pushes his thickened tip at your sensitive hole and starts to puuuush—
Your cute tutor had been the first one to take off his boxers - and it really was true what they say about nerdy boys being…bigger.
He was about nine entire inches, and the most adorable rosy pink at his tip - one that matched the blush on his face. Only growing more and more, thicker and thicker, every time he was swipin’ his velvety shaft between your folds and trying to fit inside.
Pushing and pushing.
Stretching out your quivering orifice.
Gojo was just so sensitive—you’d asked him earlier whether this was his first time, and the nerdy boy had only blushed and mumbled something incoherent. Though his cap of precum that just kept on pouring out told you everything you needed to know - even now he was squeezing just the barest inch of his tip into your hole and groaning. Twitching.
“O-oh—” His pre-glossed tip slips out of your hole and slides-slides down the middle of your pussylips, “Fuck- I need at least the urethral meatus inside to successfully breed you, sweetheart. N-need to be inside your pussy…”
“You really wanna knock me up, huh?” You’re whining out.
“So badly.” Almost shyly. Gojo can only let a dopey smile stretch across his lips at the notion, sounding out-of-breath already. He’s keeping his thumb hooked on your panties, urging his hips closer with the most sinful sounds. “S-soooo fucking badly.”
Just draaaaawling out his agonizing groan as he shovels his thickened shaft between your pussylips. Without warning, he’s then pressing both hands upon either side of your legs, pushing them even wider open.
You yelp, “Satoru-”
And then with you pinned down to the mattress, Gojo reels his slender hips back to thrust and thrust his raging hot cock into your pussy. “Gonna fuck you now…” The globular red edge of his shaft kisses your entrance and starts stretching the first resistance of your hole. Starts bending his curvaceous inches inside you. “Gonna fill the introitus- fill her up with my cock.” Starts making your walls immediately clench at the sudden intrusion.
His jaw falls slightly apart at the feeling of being sucked inside by you, your slick orifice plugged up with his length. “Gonna fill her up with my kid—” Just letting his furious cock get one taste.
One of his inches pushed inside your cunt.
Just one.
Before Gojo’s throwing his head back with a cracked wh-whimper.
Before his entire body shudders.
Before his entire cock seems to zap with a carnal electricity.
And you’re feeling the hot sensation of something slatherin’ at your pussylips, raising onto your elbows to look between your legs. And the sight you’re seeing- fuck, it’s a pure white mess at your core and puddling onto the expensive silk sheets below.
He was cumming.
Just from that.
Your eyes widen, “Satoru, you’re already-”
“Fuck.” Gojo breathes out, head now pushing into the crook of your neck. Something warm and wet falls on top of your skin- and only then do you realize that Gojo Satoru was sobbing at the mere feeling of your pussy surrounding his cock. “F-fuck, I can’t believe…”
His creamy cum was spilling out in surges, drawing vertical lines between the crevice of your pussy in some lecherous pattern. Incessantly. Hotly. He’s webbing up your puffy folds and thumpin’ his rotund tip between your cunt to smear them. Lines upon lines. Layers upon layers.
Like he couldn’t stop himself no matter how urgently he’s reaching a hand up to squeeze at his thickened base. “Sh-shit, s’not stopping.” The nerdy man babbles away, white-knuckling at his swollen cock in order to try and plug himself up - but it doesn’t work. He’s even pulling back a bit to move his thumb on top of his leaky divot. And he’s still not stopping. “Shit, I can’t control myself. Your tunica mucosa- your pussy just feels too good.”
“You’re s-still cumming…” You whine.
“Too good.”
He’s just dribbling out hot cum, creating an ivory gloss over your folds that drips around your thighs.
Gojo feels the wetness of it seep into his abs and pulls away from your neck, looking up at you with his teary gaze. He snaps his eyes down to the white sap that smears out of you and moans. Voice cracking at the back of his throat any time he’s shoving his honed hips between yours. “C-can I go again to your womb this time, my girl?”
You’re just about to open your mouth to answer when-
“Now now, Satoru…”
“Yer fucked if you think you’re getting her all night.” A familiar, gruff tone spits. “Especially after that embarrassment of a performance.”
You’re turning your head to the side of the bed - to the two men that watched from chairs facing the bed.
Geto Suguru.
Ryomen Sukuna.
3. Ryomen Sukuna.
Frat boy™ (leader of Curses Epsilon)
Probably REALLY good in bed
On his way to become a pro wrestler (headlocks omg??)
Might be rough…
Ryomen Sukuna had just gotten off from practice when Geto had called him.
And he can’t lie - he hadn’t exactly felt like answering the phone then. The two weren’t exactly what you’d consider friends, but neither were they not friends. Sukuna kept his circle close, you see—only his brother, his nephew.
Though recently there had been the development of a certain little someone. Sukuna had noticed you at one of his wrestling matches by chance, and ever since then it seems that he couldn’t stop noticing you. At his parties. At their fundraisers. At lecture halls that Sukuna purposefully took the long route to pass by - just to get a glimpse of you.
And he’d been considering asking you to be Curses Epsilon’s sweetheart, but that was neither here nor there!
Geto Suguru wasn’t someone that Sukuna would dub himself acquainted with to even that extent. His rock band sometimes performed at the infamous parties Sukuna threw, and it wasn’t really usual for him to call Sukuna outside of this.
But fuck was he glad he’d picked up the phone that day.
Because that was what got him here with you.
Snuck into his frat house. Laid out on his king-sized bed.
Your eyes locked with his—
Sukuna’s cock throbs between his legs at the ruined expression on your face, and he’s immediately feeling a rush of jealousy at the white-haired man. Snapping his narrowed gaze to the other, “Such a pretty gal begging for you ta breed her and you embarrass yerself like this?”
“Sh-she just feels too good.” Gojo lovingly gazes at your overspilling cunt. Before looking at the frat president again, “You wouldn’t understand.”
Sukuna hates this man even more.
“O—okay, how about we don’t look like we’re gonna beat each other up, hm?” Geto’s silky tone breaks through the saturated air, and you’re squirming at the way his rings glint in the dim lighting.
He’s noticing the slight movement instantly, gaze flicking between you and his fingers. Realization splashes across his face, and the next time he speaks it’s with his voice dipped just a bit. “Oh, you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? But you want that pussy to be treated like a princess?”
Gojo gapes as you nod, “M-maybe…”
“No need to be shy, gorgeous.” Geto hums, drawing even closer to you. “We’re all friends here.”
The mattress dips just a little bit as he sits down on the edge of the bed, his ringed fingers reaching out and dragging across the sheen of white covering your calves by now.
Geto lets the slick coating form on his fingers, smearing it on the tips of his digits. “Mmm, what a waste. Don’t you know that a princess is supposed to orgasm before she’s pumped full of cum, Satoru?” Tutting.
Somehow, you always did think that your closest friend would be the type to drag sex out for hours. To drive you numb with pleasure, to be so sweet—at least, his words were.
And even Gojo seemed to be quietening down his grumbling to listen, the only other sounds in the air being the plapping! of him still trying to rover his blushin’ cocktip even deeper. “W-well…”
“And don’t you know that a princess is supposed to be teased before she’s fucked?” His amethyst eyes seem to glow with amusement, and something else. Something…darker. “You’ve gotta make her cry first.”
Oh.
A primal shudder rips right through you.
Not sweet. Definitely not sweet.
You’re whining after his elongated syllables, “Please-” Tears spurting up to your eyes when Geto forcefully grabs ahold of Gojo’s slender hips and bodily pulls him backwards. Both hands positioned on the other man’s hips, keeping his throbbing cock warming inside your walls for a few seconds before puuuuuushing inside you again. He manages to fill you up in a way like you’ve never been before, his smooth shaft filling your every orifice. “P-please, Satoru-”
“Like that.” Geto hums, “Hard. Long.”
And Gojo gapes at the way you seem absolutely ruined beneath him, “I didn’t even realize…”
“Mhmm, at this rate we’re never getting her pregnant.” Geto rolls his murky eyes, nails digging into Gojo’s hips once more. “Now more.”
“What?”
“Move.”
Your lashes flutter open at the way the long-haired man commands the other.
Geto’s tone was just so steely, and all it takes is a single word to make Gojo Satoru pull out of you. His long cock bobbing between his meaty thighs, tuggin’ out with the most lecherous squelch!
A wadded up web of cum follows him as he does so, connecting his irritated tip to your cunt still. Just red-hot and drippin’ with your slick syrup. At the sight of it, Gojo looks as if he already regrets his decision - but moves over to let Geto take his place anyway.
And both roughened hands - much, much rougher than Gojo’s, with so many years of training those fingers in his punk-rock band - press-press-preeeeeess your jittery thighs open. Firm. Unyielding, even as you whine at the stretch. Geto’s throwing his silky hair over his shoulder, sinking onto the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed.
His knees hit it with two loud thuds!
“And what’d you think you’re doing up there, hm?” In an almost bored tone, Geto raises a brow at his best friend seated still on the bed. In a split-second, he’s grabbing onto the back of Gojo’s flushed neck and dragging him down onto the floor as well.
Side by side.
Gojo yelps as he’s brought ever-closer to your open legs. “What do you think you’re-”
“Teaching you how to eat a pussy properly, duh.” As if it should be obvious, Geto rolls his eyes. “This pretty princess deserves better than your sloppy self.”
With your elbows resting on the springy mattress, you peer over at the two men who nudged their faces closer to your drippin’ wet pussy. Both their eyes gleaming in excitement the nearer they were- it’s almost as if they were fighting for purchase between there.
Each one lightly shoving the other-
“Spit on her pussy, Satoru.” Geto’s sing-song voice was dark.
Gojo’s eyes widen, “Wh-what do you-”
“Spit. On. Her. Pussy.” Geto throws his long locks over his shoulder and smiles, “Right into her pretty hole- but if you make a mess that’s even better.”
“Why would I wanna make a mess?” Gojo huffs, nose crinkling cutely.
“Virgin.” Geto titters.
The blue-eyed man looks up to meet your eyes- and flushes. Puckering his lips up nervously, they tremble just a little as he somehow drips out a line of slick on top of your cunt.
And Geto only looks down to appraise the mess he’s made, his chunkily ringed fingers swirlin’ the glaze with the front of his thumb. “Mm, I could’ve done better.”
They were both so fucking hard.
Geto turns back to you now, eagerly waiting. “See this tongue, gorgeous?” Unhinging his jaw, he lets his loooong and lavish tastebuds stick out for you to see. Slicked with watery saliva. Studded with a silver tongue piercing in the middle of it. “See it? S’what I’m gonna ruin you with- watch and learn, Satoru. Watch and learn…”
And you’re hearing it before you’re feeling it. Seeing it.
The slurp of Geto’s slick tongue shoving between your sultry folds - just lengthy lines licked back and forth on your slit. He doesn’t speed up. He doesn’t act ravenous. Lingering his orbed piercing against every spot he can reach inside of you- no matter how much you’re restlessly squirming above him, he doesn’t go harder. Just light and fleeting.
Rubbing his ridged tastebuds against every orifice, sucking up Gojo’s ivory sap, letting his tongue juuuuust fill up your tight hole before fishing out-
Making the other man balk, “H-hey!” His best friend was just making a mess of you, with his tongue lappin’ over the coats of cum that he’d poured out on your cunt. “That’s not fair- the seminal fluid is supposed to go inside the vaginal canal in order for internal fertilization to-”
Geto lazily cracks open an eye at him.
Before grabbing Gojo by the back of his throat and shoving him nose-deep into your cunt as well.
“Then do something about it.” He smiles.
Both of them had their greedy mouths open against your pussy.
Tongues flopping out and thrashin’ maddeningly against your cunt - Gojo’s a little longer than Geto’s, but Geto’s with his frigid piercing in the middle that scraped into your every orifice. It’s as if you were suddenly surrounded by the ridged texture of their tastebuds, until you couldn’t tell which one was which. Every sweet spot. Every fold. Dual tips aching to claim every inch of you.
And while Geto slipped against your clit, Gojo was just craving to stuff his tongue inside your hole-
“Ngh—” His nose crinkles cutely a little as he whimpers, “D-don’t take up too much space now, Suguru.”
“You’re in my space, Satoru.” As if to prove his point, he presses the cold knob of his piercing right against your clit. “Don’t forget who knew her first. Now stop moving those lips and focus on- hers.”
Gojo glares but doesn’t say anything more, only nudging the other man by his shoulder for more space. There’s a slight battle in the space between your legs- only drawing both men closer n’ closer to your cunt.
Gojo had his mouth plastered to your sopping cunt, lavishly licking into every orifice. And Geto- oh, Geto was doing the exact opposite.
Because while the nerdy boy was giving you everything that you wanted, Geto was pinching meanly at your clit and draaaaagging your cute nub until you felt like crying. Neglecting your clit when it felt like you were enjoying it too much.
They were sliding over each other and making out messily with your pussy—and each other.
“Tch- gay as hell.” Sukuna’s grumbling tone echoes, closer than you remember it. The sudden volume of it makes you look up with a jolt- only to realize that he was looming at the head of the bed. Looming right where you were.
Gojo spits out into your pussy, “Erm- bi, actually.”
“Does it look like I give a fuck?”
Ryomen Sukuna has had enough.
He takes in the way that Geto and Gojo were shoved between your legs rabidly. Barely even paying attention to him. Barely even breathing- and he admits his mouth waters just a little imagining just how sweet your cunt tasted…
But he’s instead focusing his attention on another pair of lips.
“I didn’t come here ta get fuckin’ cucked.” Sukuna rumbles, his meaty thighs resting on the space of mattress beside your head. The sole reason that Geto and Gojo had chosen Sukuna’s room in the first place was because of his king-sized bed. And you were damn lucky that it could fit all four of you. “So…”
You flinch.
“No need to be scared, mama, s’just me.” He’s patting his overlarge palm on top of your head, smoothing down your sweaty scalp. “And my ah- ‘friends’ here told me that a pretty gal like you wanted to be bred, hm? S’that true?”
You’re nodding through your tears, body twitching any time Gojo’s tongue curved just right. “Mhm- yes, fuck yes.”
“Bred by me you mean.” Gojo sputters out, drunken eyes turning up at Sukuna.
“Fuckin’ loser.” Sukuna sniffs, his prominent nose crinkling in distaste at the white-haired man.
But he’s setting his crimson sights back on you, smirk only seeming to grow at the awe on your face - ogling just how large the other man was. He was on a scholarship for wrestling, or so you’d heard…“So s’true, huh? Ya came here to be bred? What a filthy fuckin’ giiiiirl—”
Squirming restlessly, Geto was now starting to circle the nub of your clit with his ringed fingers and it was leaving your body in a tizzy. Every wadded ounce of cum that Geto was licking out of you, Gojo was shoving back in with his flexible tip. Refusing to let any of his seed go to waste- they were just so sloppy. Kissin’ you open-mouthed. Again and again. Both nose tips bustling against your puffy clit, their tongues slickly sliding against each other and shoving in alternating paces. Gojo’s hard and fast. Geto’s agonizingly thorough.
You whine, “Was just- hck! needy-”
“Oh I know all about how needy you are, woman.” Sukuna’s hands drop to the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “But do you even know my name?”
“Of course I do.” Your brows furrow, “You’re Ryomen Sukun—mmpf.”
Before Sukuna’s tugging down on the cottony hem of his pants and letting his raging erection smack! against his firm abs. Thick length. Drivelling tip. If you thought that Gojo was big, then Sukuna was just as big if not bigger…
An even more sultry number of veins that were overtaking the sides of his shaft - and now your mouth. He fits inside. He was so fucking hard that you could count each ravenous ba-dump! of his pulsations, shovelling and shoveling away-
“M-mmmpf—” You’re letting out muffled moans at the rough use of your mouth. Sukuna’s length seemed like it was never-ending. The tannish crown of his shaft finds the cute orifice of your mouth and opens away at your lips, wider and wider with every inch. Hips moving in solid, mean thrusts-
He snickers,“No, my name is Ryomen Sukuna. You don’t even know that, mama?”
“Mmm—” Letting out sinful noises at the feeling of his fat ball sack smacking against the side of your face with each of his movements, just so full with need for you. “Please-” You sob out - the only thing you can seem to sob out. “P-please-”
“Nuh uh, not that either.” He was having way too much fun with this. Plunging his thickened erection out and using the length to spank each side of your face. “Try again.”
“Ryo- oh.” But just as you’re trying to speak, Sukuna’s flooding your hot cavern with his salty tip once more. Almost as if he was chasing the vibrations of your voice, almost as if he was waiting for you to speak just so he can watch your pretty sentences break on his cock.
He grins from above, head cocking to the side to take in the lovely sight. “Tryyyy again—”
“Ryo- mmpf.” You’re gulping down his swollen inches - fuck, Sukuna was even thicker than he looked. Somehow filling up every orifice inside your mouth, it felt as if he was reaching for the dangly lil’ thing in the back of your throat and then even further.
Just slurp after slurp of his vicious hips movin’ back and forth.
He’s tightening his grip on the back of your head and humming. “Breathe with your nose, mama. Breathe with your nose.” The audacity to even act like he cares when he swabs the very back of your neck aggressively, “Relax that pretty throat f’me. Heh.” Just waiting until your airway was fully free, just waiting until you’d somewhat calmed down- before he’s arching his hips and slamming his puckered red tip inside. “Now that your voicebox knows me- try to say my name? Do you know my name?”
“R-Ryooo—” You’re gurgling through your spit and tears, “Ryo- ngh- men. Sukuna.”
“Atta girl.”
“Sukuna?” Gojo flinches as if he’d just been struck by lightning.
“Hm?” Geto peeks his eyes open as well, only to find that the pink-haired man had very much made himself at home pumpin’ away into your mouth. His velvety length stuffing your small cavern open. “It seems, Satoru, that we have some competition.”
Gojo growls, nipping at your folds meanly in his possessiveness. “Oi…who the fuck do you think you are blocking her cute air tract with your nasty fucking-”
But Geto only smiles with your slick glistening on his lips, “May the best man get to breed her cunt first.”
And you’re confused for only a split-second before there’s a sudden spike of pressure - from both ends.
From Gojo and Geto who were thrusting their tongues inside your cunt, from Sukuna who was never one to back down from a challenge. And he’s looking over at the two men who were bickering but suddenly united, and plastering both paws on top of your scalp to thrust inwards.
Letting his slick, drivellin’ tip hit the roof of your mouth and make you moan—
“Suguru-” Gojo hisses.
But Geto was already on it- Geto was already fiddling with his chunky metal rings to transfer them all onto his right hand. “Mmm, don’t you worry now, Satoru. I’ll teach you.” With his goal finally accomplished, he’s hooking his fingers against your folds and pryin’ them apart. “First, you’ve gotta tease the princess.”
He’s spitting inside your hole and thrusting his middle finger inwards.
Swirlin’ around your velvety channel for a few seconds before pulling back out when you start clenching- “S-Suguru…” Your voice echoes from above, and both men look towards you with primal eyes.
Geto cocks his head at Gojo, “See?”
“I-I see.” The other man looks as if he was on the verge of writing this all down.
“Then you’ve gotta- hah, take your time. Like this.”
“Like—oh.” You’re cut off by him sticking his finger back in. Letting his wet muscle expand and circle around your walls, his rings pokin’ away, a few times before edging back out.
“See?” Geto rasps, one of his thumbs pushin’ aside your folds to show your entrance off to the other man. “Look how she’s- hah, clenching like she wants to suck me back. You’ve gotta make her want it badly- s’fun to tease a pussy.”
Gojo nods eagerly.
“And for my last trick-” Oh, by the way he says it you already know that it doesn’t bode well for your sanity. The thickness of two fingers were now stretching your hole out wiiiiidely before running back out, thrusting in and out. In and out. In and out.
Probin’ with his silver rings near sweet spots that you didn’t even realize you had before.
At the same time, Geto runs his straight nose bridge down the line of your slit and ends up pressing on your clit. Just not enough pressure to satiate you, just enough pressure to make you sob out—“Fuck, stop teasing, Suguru.”
“And that’s how you treat a princess.”
Meanly.
“Let me.” Gojo gulps. His mouth waters at the milky display of your slick and his cum around Geto’s mouth, he shoves Geto aside with a muscular shoulder. “Let me.”
And it’s the last thing you’re seeing - that look of utter greed on Gojo’s face - before the white-haired man leans himself in reaaaaal close to your pussy. He’s nudging his straight nose bridge between your plump folds and ending up pressing down on your clit, letting his watery tastebuds swing out and-
And then Gojo Satoru was eating you out like a madman.
Geto had scooped out the wads of his best friend’s cum, and Gojo’s moaning at the mess that gushes around his mouth and onto his pinkish tastebuds. Blue irises sprinting to the back of his skull, raw lips falling agape. Geto’s breath hitches as he notices the change immediately- “Wait, Satoru, you’re going to-”
“M’going to breed her again.” Gojo spits out, “S’gonna be me not him-”
He was going to say that Gojo was going to forget how to breathe if he went on like this - but he gets the feeling that his best friend doesn’t even want to breathe right now…
Doesn’t want to do anything but grab onto either side of your thighs and shove himself even deeper. His fat tongue slipping out and smacking! against your pussy, his tastebuds searching any and every corner for a taste of you, his pussy-muddled brain not even knowing what he’s doing as he’s thrusting and thrusting.
Face pushing until the rim of his glasses pressed up against your pussy and he didn’t even see to realize—
“O-oh, fuck.” You’re gurgling out in a shrill tone, and Geto looks on at your pretty expressions in interest. “S’going in so deep. Satoru, you’re just so needy-”
Sukuna raises a brow, “Heeeeh?”
“Yeah, so fuckin’ needy, Satoru.” Geto repeats in his smoky tone, eyeing both of your feverish motions with interest. Gojo was face-down in your pussy and lapping at your cunt with a primal wildness, pinning down your squirming hips. Any time that your restless body tries to move away, he’s draaaagging you down to drag across his pretty face, he sticks his tongue so rapidly in and out of you that his tongue is nothing but a pinkish blur.
Completely the opposite of Geto’s mean, torturous methods.
And, well, he can’t fall behind now, can he?
Without warning, the dark-haired man reaches his hand to shove not one- not two- but three of his ringed fingers down your tight channel.
Gojo startles at the intrusion and moves-
“Ah ah.” Geto murmurs, grabbing him by the back of the neck and shoving him into your wet cunt once more. “Stay.”
His nose glidin’ down your slit, furiously rubbing and rubbing his textured tastebuds against it until you’re opening up more for Geto. Inside it. Anywhere and everywhere.
Geto was absolutely pummelling your cunt with his fingers now, while Gojo moved onto sucking your clit as if it was his favorite candy. “Mmm—-Sug…Satoru.” Moans meshing into one, as if you didn’t even know what to utter. “It feels so- oh.”
“So what?” Sukuna scoffs, reaching down to smack your right tit. “Don’t test me now, mama. Don’t make me- hngh, shut you up proper with my cock.”
He’s grabbing one of your hardened nipples and pinching at the peak in a way that makes you whine- “Kuna- Kuna- Kuna-”
“Yeahhh, that’s more like it. Keep saying my name- until you memorize it. Until you memorize my fuckin’ cock.”
“Suguru, do something.” Poor, inexperienced Gojo can merely watch as his pretty girl’s taken over by the pink-haired man once more. He’s flicking furiously at your bundle of nerves- and yet you couldn’t do anything but out muffled whimpers with Sukuna’s hot cock shoved into your mouth. “My girl’s been- ngh, won over-”
“Your girl?” Geto raises one brow, but looks up at you anyways.
Fuck, this angle between your legs was just perfect - he could see the way that your throat expanded and outlined the sheer thickness of Sukuna’s girth. Just so massive that every thrust had his cylindrical intrusion bulging against your neck. Again and again.
And he can’t help but catch Sukuna’s red eyes, cocking his head over. He gestures—straddle her.
A signal that the other men understands instantly.
A sinful smile spreads across Sukuna’s lips, “I like the way you think, punk-rock.”
And Gojo can only watch, slack-jawed, as the wrestler pulls his fat cock out of your mouth and tap-tap-taps the tip on your tongue a few times. Letting your pretty lips water just a bit - just enough to wet your tastebuds enough - before he’s moving over your head in one fluid motion until. Before he’s behind your head completely.
Before his rude hips plummet his inches between your lips.
You’re moaning so loud-
The vibrations zipping up from his honed cockhead and up his spine. “Fuck- didn’t know such a sweet mouth could even make a sound like that.” Sukuna’s grumbling underneath his breath, fucking gnawing down on his bottom lip to keep from making too many noises himself. “Now I get why those two bastards are obsessed with you, ma.”
Thrusting away wildly, Gojo pulls away with a gasp. “Suguru, you traitor-”
“Easy there, easy there.” The other man breezes, giggling at the cutesy way your body lurches back and forth with Sukuna’s jackhammers.
You flinch as you feel something metallic and cold plunge into your deepest, deepest depths—hitting almost near your g-spot. Geto hums, “And that goes for you, too, gorgeous.” He gives you a vulgar few strokes of his fingertips, reaching for your sweet spot every time. And yet- still not reaching it, he was teasing you until you wanted to sob. “Did you know that I play bass?”
“I did know- I do.” You cry out.
“Then, you probably know…” A final thrust - all the way from the curvaceous edge of his middle, his index, his ring finger and doooown to each ringed base - that sets your teeth on edge. “-that I’m real good with the g-spot. Whoops, I mean-”
Somehow between Sukuna’s vicious thrusts you manage out, “S-Suguru—” Because just then, he’s shoving your velvety walls apart to push against your softest spot in an instant.
“-yeah no. I meant g-spot.”
“Heeeeeh…” Sukuna whistles, “You’re good.” Watching as the dark-haired man then utterly ruins you with a mere few movements of his fingers, they’re finding each tender spot inside you perfectly. Rings being used to mark exactly where and when Geto was thrusting away - but no matter what, he always ended with his frigid rings pushed against your g-spot. Purposefully glidin’ those geometrical edges of his rings against your sensitive nerves- “But I’m better.”
“Kuna, oh my god—” You babble out as he uses both hands to grab onto your tits now, his long fingers pinching your nipples and rolling them between each padded digit.
It was just insanity.
Geto with his globular fingertips finding your g-spot again and again, Sukuna with his hot cock filling you up again and again- and Gojo. Oh…Gojo was just gluing his pouty lips against your entrance.
Geto’s tongue meeting his in an open-mouthed kiss, the white-haired man pulls away- only to latch onto that pretty perky clit above your hole. “S-say my name, too, sweetheart.” You can just barely hear Gojo’s plead over the cacophony of other sultry noises filling up the room, “Say my name-”
You can just barely feel the sharp spark of pleasure coming from Gojo finding your clit and sucking. Like his life depended on it. “Say my name while you cum.” His pale brows furrow, and every luxurious lick at your cunt was all that he ever needed in life, all that made him glide his glasses down your front pussy. All that it took to make you mooooan straight into Sukuna’s cock. “Say m-my name while you cum, please?” At least he had manners still.
Before your entire body erupts in a high so sudden and strong that you don’t even realize it’s taken over until after Gojo himself comments on it- “She’s cumming.” He breathes out, almost in disbelief. Gojo feels his cock twitch at the way you’re cumming on his tongue- and reaches his free hand down to fist it angrily. “She’s cumming she’s—mmpf.”
“If she’s cumming then fuck her through her orgasm instead of running yer big mouth.” Geto grabs the back of his best friend’s neck and shoves him in again - which Gojo was glad to indulge in. Glad to gnaw on the knob of your little clit, until his lips felt so raw that they might as well fall off.
And while Gojo made out with your pussy, Geto was fingering you crazily. His honed fingertips plucked at your bliss, hitting your g-spot precisely at every peak. Again and again.
“L-like this, Suguru?” Gojo gurgles out.
“Mhm, faster.”
They’re speeding up- Gojo letting go of his cock just to delve in even deeper, and Geto has to be the one to pump his best friend’s length.
You sob, “Satoru—mmmpf.”
“Shit, maybe you two bastards aren’t half-bad.” Sukuna muses, a pinkish brow raising at just how much you moaned and thrashed underneath the two men. His hips only grew faster.
All three men were absolutely ravishing you through your high, those little sparks of pleasure going up from your pummeled cunt to your pummeled throat. “Mmm—” Just about the only thing that you’re ever going to be able to get out at this rate, “Feels- good- ngh- good-”
“Yeah, but which one’s yer favorite, mama?” Sukuna spits. Nestling his heavy balls against your face while he shoves his cockhead lung-deep-
“At least let her finish her orgasm first.” Gojo seethes, his glasses completely fogged by now.
“Yer too fucking nice.” Sukuna bites back, “She likes being all roughed up, doesn’t she?”
“No, she likes indulgent-”
And they’re both speeding up their ministrations, Gojo going craaaaazy with the heart patterns he was drawing on your clit while Sukuna twisted his fingers even harder over your nipples. You’re practically held hostage by the pleasure.
And the only thing you can do is ride out wave after wave of your bliss, still being absolutely demolished from all angles by the three men when it’s finally starting to peter out.
You twitch, “S-Suguru—”
Because you knew that the pierced man would be the only one much too happy to stop you from getting what you need - but you’re surprised to find…that Geto merely shrugs you off with a grin. The one overstimulating you with his fingers until you’re crying-
“Keh…” Sukuna eyes the sobs you’re heaving out, though he doesn’t stop himself. He’s pumping out a few wads of creamy white, before pressing a thumb on top of his shaft to stop himself from releasing too much before he actually got to breed you. “Don’t make her tap out just yet.”
“Suguru…”
But he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t even slow down until you’re being probed by his sultry fingertips all the way until a second orgasm. It flashes through you like a sudden fever, your entire body breaking out in a cold sweat.
Jaw dropping.
Back arching off of the mattress.
You’re so sensitive by this point that even the lightest graze of Gojo’s canines against your clit makes you whimper n’ whine. Great heaving tears making their way down your cheeks, you’re nothing against the three sets of strong arms that hold you down so they could properly eloooongate your zapping pleasure.
And Geto Suguru doesn’t stop until he’s well and thoroughly fucked you through each mountain of your electrified high, and perhaps even all the way into a third-
“Aaaaand that’s enough outta you.”
“Yeah-” Gojo huffs, his pout pretty on his lips. “-you don’t get to hog her orgasms all for yourself, Suguru.”
Geto gives a final long liiiiiick with his pierced tongue.
Your brain is all muddled and stupid by the time that Geto with his love for overstimulating you is pulled off. You’re pushed further up the sweat-dampened mattress, sandwiched between Gojo and Sukuna from either side.
“So…” Sukuna asks, “Who won?”
“Me- she moaned my name-” Gojo grumbles up at the man. You whine at the way both their toned cores surround you, it’s as if you were a ragdoll they wanted to play around with.
“Yeah right, you had first dibs.” Sukuna scowls, eyes narrowing into slits. “And ya ruined it. Now I get to fuck her pretty pussy-”
“How about me, gorgeous?” Geto wasn’t waiting around to argue with his friends - he was cupping your dazed face and asking you directly. But you were so damn far gone that you couldn’t even begin to formulate a coherent response before-
“No, Suguru.”
“Fuck no.”
.
.
.
You were right about Ryomen Sukuna being rough.
Because he was fucking you rough. And hard. And fast.
And ruthless.
It seems that the winner of last round’s ‘challenge’ had been none other than Gojo Satoru - based on the fact that his name had been the first one you’d moaned during your first orgasm. Perhaps his accolades as president of the debate club wasn’t just in name…
They’d unanimously decided that Geto Suguru, the traitor, wasn’t deserving of fucking you after that little stunt he’d pulled earlier. Overstimulating you until tears—how could he! Without both of them, of course…
And so Gojo had left you in your stupidly fucked state.
Merely hovering over you- the tips of his ears red, the head of his cock dripping wet already. He’d pressed just about half of his swollen shaft between your pussylips before - expectedly - cumming again in less than two strokes.
He just couldn’t handle the feeling of your hot cunt. Just the sensation of you throbbin’ away around him like that was too much for the bespectacled nerd to handle, his entire body shaking as he spurted his white seed all over your pussylips. Hot and syrupy, it dripped all over you and down onto the sheets below. Pink lips jutted out when he felt himself reach his high again, “I…I did it again, sweetheart.” He’d told you, shamefully.
And you’d barely gotten two comforting words out- “It’s alright, Toru—”
Before Sukuna had shoved him over.
“My fuckin’ turn.”
And now you were laid out against Sukuna’s chiselled back, feeling each ripped muscle move n’ flex against your own. Vicious. Vulgar. He was heaving after each thrust, he was hitting the very spongy end of your cervix, he was bending your back against his front—a hand scouring down your front to feel his cylindrical length impale you-
A full fucking nelson.
By none other than the wrestling star himself.
“A star player—fuck.” Sukuna’s raspy voice whispers into your ear, hooking his pointed chin at your shoulder and preventing you from moving a single inch away from him. Thud-thud-thud, his rotund tip could be felt all the way against your scratchy throat. And you swear you could taste the salty flavor of his gooey liquids. “M’gonna fuck a s-star athlete into you, woman- the best junior wrestling champion this world has ever seen.”
Gojo surges up from his chair in the corner - the one Geto and Sukuna had been sitting in earlier in the night. “She hasn’t even taken yet-”
“Ah ah- what’s that?” Sukuna interrupts between thrust after thrust. He looks around as if he’d just heard an indistinguishable noise from somewhere in the room, “What- oh.”
And you’re watching speechlessly when Sukuna’s honed fingertips slither down your front to squeeze your clit.
“It’s this pussy begging me to get her pregnant-” His pinkish brow raises, “Oh- the best Olympic wrestler this world has ever seen? How ambitious, mama.”
Gojo spits, “Fucker-”
“You hear something?” And Sukuna was taunting him - Sukuna was playing right in Gojo’s face. His big beefy arms looping underneath your thighs and giving them a forceful tug- he’s spreading your limbs out as far as they’d go.
Making your soppin’ wet pussylips smeaaaar wide open and making the other two men throw envious looks your way. “Sounds like a little bitc-”
“Oh, please—” You’re bucking through your sobs. A particularly aggressive stroke has you damn near jumping out of his arms- but Sukuna’s only tightening his grip and bringing you riiiight back down to feel his cock.
You weren’t escaping any time soon.
“C’mere, woman.” His tone was almost a warning, speaking down to you as if you were dumbified on his cock already—and you were close. Oh, were you close. The wrestler’s cock was just so thiiiick that his veins massage your tiniest orifices without even trying. Long glides. Hard throbs. “How m’I going to- heh, fuck you pregnant if you keep trying to run?”
“Well…”
He continues, “In the first place, you don’t think you can run from a wrestler, can you?”
Blinking your wide teary eyes up at him, “I can’t…?”
And it was almost too cute how stupid you were on his pistoning hips already, mouth splashing out saliva every time he was hittin’ a gooood spot inside you. Sukuna chuckles, “No, you can’t.” As if to prove his point, he holds you down to his glissading abs and swabs your wettened cervix. “But ya sure can fuckin’ try- ya won’t make two steps before I have you on my cock again.”
“Well that’s just n-not fair—” You’re trilling out at the way he bends you just a liiiiittle further against him. Both hands gripped primally onto your hips and not letting you get too far.
Not letting you get far at all, actually. You can barely even breathe without Sukuna bouncing your body right back and knockin’ the wind out of your lungs with his puckered tip. “Ya can’t handle it if I bend you a little like thiiiiiis—”
“F-fuck!” Sobbing at the way he further spreads your legs, bringing them up until the caps of your knees were striking your tits.
“And then just a little like thiiiiiis—” Sukuna arches his hips lightly off the dampened sheets to rover his cocktip inside. Arching you against him.
Ryomen Sukuna loved manhandling you.
“Oh my g-god-” It’s just about the only thing you can blubber out, your sentences hitching in your throat. “Shit, I didn’t even know I could bend like this…”
“Why’re you crying, mama?” Sukuna coos, though there was something decidedly dangerous in his tone. Almost as if in alarm, your pussy starts throbbing harder and he snickers as he feels it- one of his roughened thumbs come to wipe away at your tears.
“It’s j-just-”
“It’s j-j-just the entire future of wrestling that depends on this pussy right here.” He’s mocking you. He’s teasing you. Not in the same way that Geto would - Sukuna had you immobile and was bullying you with both his mouth and his rugged, roverin’ tip.
His plump cockhead gapes out your cute hole, ending up in your deepest depths. He manages to leave you jolting after the pressure of each one. And after that bulbous intrusion then his inches just seem to go on and on and on—“S’a biiiig deal, mama. So you understand why I hafta fuck you a little ngh- rough, riiiight? So you understand why I hafta wrestle you a little, riiiight?”
Until you can feel Sukuna bash away even at your throat-
So hard that your eardrums almost pop- “It just feels so-”
Only to get overshadowed by the slurping squelches of your own cunt. Which only makes the pink-haired man grin, “There. It’s been decided then.”
“What are you…” Your dazed eyes widen, looking up into his rouge ones for an answer.
But the only answer he’s listening to? The background music of your pussy.
Sukuna’s nodding in agreement with the slick wet sounds that escape you, even more of it increasing in volume once he lets his precum fill you up to the very brim. Dripping past your pussylips, “Now now-” For only a few split-seconds before one set of Sukuna’s rugged fingertips swipe the syrup back in. “-none of that. That’s at least a couple million yen you’re losing there, girl. If m’fuckin’ it inside ya then keep it inside ya.”
You quiver, zaps of electricity floating through you when he reaches down and pinches your throbbing clit. “And i-if I can’t…?”
“As my son’s manager, I can’t have that.”
He was picking and choosing management opportunities already?!
You see, the King of the Ring was hellbent on fucking you right - on getting his seed to be the one that took inside your sopping wet walls.
He was fucking you like he meant it - he was going to complete that mission one way or the other. He was drilling into you with a primal cadence, bulbous tip press-press-pressing inside to swab away at your every single orifice—
You’re jerking on top of him at the pleasure, and Sukuna’s immediately putting you in a headlock.
Gojo surges up to his feet in outrage.
But the fraternity president wasn’t paying the other men a single ounce of attention- merely tightening his bulging biceps around your neck. Leaving you nothing but a limp ragdoll for him to pump his inches into, thick and hot at the thought of impregnating you. “And as his father-” Sukuna shoots you a cocky smirk that the other two can see, “-m’not letting you walk out of this bedroom without carrying my child.”
He throbs inside you and you whimper.
“Suguru, I can’t stand this-” Gojo’s taking a step closer, chair damn near clattering to the ground.
He was donning his boxers for now, though his best friend was naked and proudly pumping his cock at the sight of Sukuna fucking you like a crazed man. Hard and fast. Hard and fast.
Soft pants leave the bassist’s mouth, throwing his head back with a grown as he watches Sukuna reach down and pinch your clit. He’s peeking ahead at the sight with a partially-cracked lid, “Satoru, give me my phone.”
Gojo’s brows raise, “What?”
“Give me my phone.”
It’s in quick, jerky movements that the white-haired man does. He tries not to stare too long at the moving couple in the bed but…fuck, he, too, was so damn hard at this point that he was dripping precum through his boxers.
Gojo practically shoves the phone into Geto’s arms.
He unlocks it with a chuckle and heads straight to the-
“You’re recording-”
“Shhhh…” Geto chortles, raising his camera up. “We’ve talked about it before, she’s said it’s alright. Now shut up, it’s getting to the best part.”
It really was. The video captures the scene perfectly: you’re still being manhandled in this full nelson. Draaaagged back and forth every time that Sukuna’s cock glides inside you, hitting a spot particularly delicate.
He was just so muscular, with his cock plumpened up so much that Gojo almost wondered how you were taking all of him. Your cervix must be completely bruised by him now, and the camera manages to record how the skin ‘round his pelvis was burning red.
Again and again and again.
The two of them were practically hypnotized by the rough way you were being fucked. Pounded, more like. The musician zooms in on the vision of your puckered lips, swollen with prolonged contact with Sukuna’s massive balls. Gooey puddles of Gojo’s cum from earlier dripping all around them. Smack-smack-smack!
It takes just a few more of those and a final pinch on your clit to make you shatter- your orgasm taking over you like a tidal wave.
White flashing behind your eyelids.
Spine arching into the perfect curvature on top of him.
Sukuna’s muscular front provides the best cushy surface for you to get lost in your high, one that leaves you limp and boneless on top of him. “P-please, Kuna…” Geto damn hopes that the audio managed to pick up your ravaged whines. “Cumming—”
“You don’t think that I don’t know that?” He hums, and you notice that his voice sounds so much more ragged than before. “Yer feeling like fuckin’ waterpark down there, woman.”
“O-oh…” Your maw drops, as if you just now realize how wet with arousal you were. Leaking all over his scruffy pink happy trail-
“Orgasm left you stupid already, huh?”
You can only mindlessly nod.
All three men find their achin’ erections throbbing - the pink-haired man most of all with his swirlin’ tip tortured by the clenches of your orgasm. It almost pained him to pull out, even if it was to savagely thrust back in again.
And again. And again and again and again-
Geto whistles as the last few seconds of the recording capture the way that a sudden ring of white froths at your entrance. Sukuna pumping in his cum with a drawn-out groan—
The sharp tone of the video ending echoes out in the bedroom. Though you certainly couldn’t hear with the way your eardrums were popped with the pressure of his thrusts.
And Geto? Geto worked silently, as Gojo gawked behind him.
“S-send me that recording…”
“Mhm.”
SUGONDEEZNUTS sent an attachment to ‘Juno, y’know?’
SUGONDEEZNUTS added Prof. Nanami Kento.
He clicks off the phone and enjoys the show.
“A star wrestler-” Sukuna’s spitting between his gritted canines, the edges of his lips squirking up into a vicious grin. He flattens one of his hands down on top of your core - right above where his thickened tip was plummeting into your womb.
Pushing down and you could already feel the glutinous layers of his cum start to slide around you, sploshin’ out of your hole. It leaks out of you and he wonders just how much that much was able to fit inside because fuck—he’s cumming more than he ever has in his entire life. “Look at thaaaaat- we’re gonna have a star wrestler, mama. Better get ready, girlie, because m’gonna fuck an entire team of Olympians into you.”
“Please-” You yelp as his headlock on you tightens.
Flexing his incredible muscles against your neck, “And are you gonna run away?” It blocks every ounce of air from escaping.
“N-no…”
“Are you gonna tap out?”
“No-”
“Mmm—then how about we start thinking of the baby names-”
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Geto’s breezy voice soothes out into the saturated air. It’s not too long before you’re hearing footsteps headed to where you lay utterly muddled. “After all, there’s more of us waiting.”
You shiver.
.
.
.
Nanami Kento wasn’t having a particularly good day, no.
For starters, he’d just been informed by one of his freshman students that half the campus thought he was in his thirties already—he was a damn TA in the first place! He wasn’t even an official professor (though he did plan to be one, so perhaps they were right on that note…)
And then his morning class slept through a particularly riveting presentation on the Kamakura period, then his (totally not favorite…alright perhaps favorite) student didn’t show up for your allotted office time with him, and now he was stuck grading papers of students who couldn’t care less about shogunate lifestyles.
Or at least he was.
He was grading papers of students who couldn’t care less about shogunate lifestyles.
That’s until he got the text.
With none other than said favorite student, you, featured front and center in its contents.
Now he was walking as fast as his long legs could take him to the most infamous fraternity house on all of campus: Curses Epsilon.
And let it be known that Professor Nanami Kento has never clocked out of the history department earlier in his entire life-
“Oh, fuh-fuck—” You’re blabbering out stupidly, tears cascading your eyes at incredible volumes. The three men inside this room just had you ruined on their cocks - Gojo hadn’t been given a chance again after his last two mishaps, Sukuna had just finished rubbin’ your pussy walls raw, and now it was Geto’s chance. Finally.
You were on all fours - bawling face pushed into Sukuna’s pillows, your ass raised high in the air.
The bassist had his index and middle fingers pulled into two honed tips, pressin’ away at your g-spot like it was a treasure trove he was uncovering. Push-push-pushing, Geto managed to force your tired body into one more orgasm, two more orgasms, three more org-
And that was when Professor Nanami Kento had arrived.
First, he’d knocked. Sharp and sensible - the frat house door had been unlocked, you see.
And it’d been none other than Geto himself who pulled his fingers cleanly out of your cunt and walked to the door. Slurping away at the treacly mess you’d left on his fingers- “You’re late, Kento.”
With a gasp, you’re pulling the sheets up to your chest- but Gojo had stopped you in your tracks—“But I wanna stare at your pretty cunt while she leaks, sweetheart…”
“Fuckin’ needy.” Geto had thrown his silky locks over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s antics. Then he turns back to the blond man who was trying hard not to stare at you on the bed—but he couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed. Fuck, he was only a man after all. “You know we almost thought you weren’t coming.”
Nanami gulps at the way Geto very obviously suckles the candied glaze of your juices from his fingers. One by one.
You whimper at the display.
“Clearly.” Nanami’s eyes then shift slowly from the man before him to you on the bed, your eyes dazed with your high, your legs clenched together. But not even that can stop the constant overflow of creamy white leaking from between them. Overspilling. “Is that why none of you have fucked her properly yet?”
Geto’s dark brows raise in amusement, “Excuse me?”
“If you’re going to get her pregnant, then do it properly.”
Everyone’s jaws drop a little at the statement the professor is giving, and Nanami only soundlessly steps inside. Letting the door close behind him.
He has only one target and one target only - you.
The blond-haired man steps towards you with purpose, starting to shrug off that formal jacket that fit him so well—
“Hello, my darling.” Nanami sighs, “On your back now.”
4. Nanami Kento.
The HOTTEST prof/ TA this campus has ever seen
Such a gentleman (opens doors, eye contact even when wearing skimpy tops, reads feminist books omg)
Mature
Some think he’d be dry in bed tho…
Nanami Kento was not dry in bed. Nanami Kento was not dry in bed.
Oh, how many times have you dreamed of this day? Wearing your shortest skirts to Professor Nanami’s lectures, daydreaming away just how it might feel to have him bend you over his sleek mahogany desk.
Though in no time what he was bending were really your legs.
Right over his broad shoulders, they were folding just so pliably—he’s patting upon each side of your wobbly limbs with a hum. “Not too hard for you now, is it, my love?” You’re shaking your head, growing wetter at the nickname- and Gojo groans as he watches you.
Nanami smiles, “Mmmm, good.” Then he’s reaching an arm out towards the headboard and grabbing one of Sukuna’s pillows.
“Wha’s that for, Nanami?” You’re blurting out stupidly.
“This?” He’s cooing down at you in a soft tone, one that’s so sweet that it makes your entire body heat up. Especially your cunt. Deciding that it would be much easier for your muddled mind to be shown instead- Nanami slides the puffy pillow underneath your hips to raise them a little. “This is for helpin’ that cute cunt of yours actually keep all the cum she’s been given. Does that make sense?”
You nod. He was just so gentle-
“You’re going to address me as ‘sir’, alright?” Fuck—you were mistaken. How did you not notice the steely look in Nanami’s eyes? How did you forget that he was known not only as the most handsome professor on campus - but also the most strict. “Now, does that make sense?”
Just barely managing to breathe, “Y-yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Shit, it makes your orifice geyser out in more impossible wads of slick. And your back’s arching instantly the moment he tugs down his pants, and you feel Nanami’s large reddish tip enter between your legs. “Fuck, that feels so good, Ken—sir.”
“Good girl- good girl.” He’s hushing out your tiny cries, placing a soothing hand on top of your sweaty scalp. Which you thought was nice, which you thought was sweet- but you’re realizing that that gesture was actually to push down on your body and keep you from jerking away every time he was lightly plunging his cock in. Nanami presses down on your head, “We have a lot to learn now, don’t we?”
“Y-yess—oh.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly at the thick shaft that Nanami was sinking in.
You didn’t get quite as good of a look at him, but you could tell that his entire length was just a little bigger than Geto’s. Not quite as long as Gojo, but with even more veins and the prettiest tuft of golden hair on his base.
Somehow, what was special about Nanami was just how perfectly he was curved.
Just a few sultry degrees to the side. He’s managing to drag-drag-draaaaag the puckered end of his cock down your walls. Pinkish and puckered, kissin’ all at the ridges down your sides- headed straaaaaight towards your sweet spots as if he already knew where they were. “Have you done your homework, my darling?”
“H-homework?” You cry out.
“Mhm—” Nanami was easing inside your pussy with languid thrusts - and though he seemed to calm and collected on the surface, you could spot the furrow between his brows. The line of perspiration that ran down his forehead. The way his heavy balls seemed to tighten the more he slipped inside- “Have you researched the conditions best for- hah, pregnancy?”
“I…well…” You’re shyly looking away - you admit that you had done some, you hadn’t gone into this entire thing unaware. But having your history professor look at you like this just left you speechless, as though he was looking straight through you.
He’s smiling down fondly at you, “If only you spent a little longer studying instead of- mmm—” Pounding out a particularly hard thrust that leaves you seeing stars, “-instead of daydreaming about fucking me, hm?”
You gasp, “How did you-”
“Why, you’ve been dressing like a slut in my class for the entire semester, my love- how could I not know?”
And the only thing you can do is moan out like the slut he believes you were - your legs spread high on his shoulders, your pussy letting out the most filthy slurps and squelches as he’s easing inside.
Hard and thorough, Nanami’s fucking himself inside you in slashes- just grazing his honed tip against your sweetest spots. Before pulling away when you start to twitch for more, more more—
“So close-” You blubber out, “S-so close, Nana-”
“Excuse me?”
“Sir.” Correcting yourself in a single second.
It’s then that Nanami’s leaning in reeeeal close, and you’re looking up at the handsome man through your lashes. “Good girl.” What you’re presented with is a splat! of his saliva being spat down, Nanami holding open your jaw to let it slide all the way towards the back of your throat. “Now that’s to fix that dirty mouth of yours- better not make that mistake again, alright?”
Nodding, “Y-yes sir…”
“Good. Now let’s see if you did your research- let’s see if you can answer my questions, and we’ll see if you deserve to have a baby fucked into you, alright?”
“Yes, s—oh.” You’re barely even given the time to compute his sentence before your sinful examination starts. And Nanami folds you deeper in on yourself, easily rubbin’ his scorching hot tip against the very back of your cervix-
You start to shake at the feeling of his primal stretch and whine—“Now now, quiet during an examination. Or are you fucked too stupid to not even remember that, hm?” It just made you so dizzy how Nanami Kento was so stoic, sensible, sweet - and yet he had these moments where something predatory slipped beneath the cracks and left you speechless. “First question, who was it that fucked you first?”
Your head slips to the side of your pillow, locking eyes with a certain white-haired man that’d slipped his hand beneath his boxers. Lightly pumping- almost reluctantly but he just couldn’t help himself. “Satoru…”
“Hm…” Nanami inclines his head at the man, blond locks plastering on his head. “And who was it that fucked you the hardest?”
“Sukuna—” Teary eyes blinking at the fraternity president, the way his crimson eyes narrowed at the sight. “K-Kuna did.”
“And I assume that Geto Suguru was the one who was the fuckin’ filthiest?” As the other man speaks, Geto’s giggle echoes out over the question. “True or false?”
“T-True—”
“Three correct in a row, that’s a hatrick.” His rugged thumb reaches down and glides between your pussylips, collecting the dewdrops of syrup drivelling out of you. “Well done- you deserve a little- hah, reward for that, don’t you agree?” The professor doesn’t even wait for your response before that very same digit of his presses down on your clit like a button. “Does that feel good, my love?”
And you’re so sensitive by the constant sultry assaults on your cunt, “Y-yes, so good—”
Only for Nanami’s tantalizing rolls over your clit to turn into a pinch—
“Wrong answer, darling.”
You scream out at the maddening answer, “Wh-what do you-” Head snapping up in surprise, before it’s suddenly falling back into the pillows at the surge of pleasure. You saw the look in his eyes. “I mean sir—yes, sir.”
“I fear your time is up, my love.”
“What- oh.”
And it’s the last thing you’re able to get out before-
Before Nanami shoves both your thighs up until they’re ruthlessly hitting your tits. Before Nanami’s bending you into such a pliable shape beneath him. Before Nanami plummets straight to the deepest end of your channel to strike your cervix.
Fucking you firm. Hard. He’s mapped out every inch of you with only a few animalistic swabs, “Three out of four, that’s 75%—you did better than I could’ve hah-hoped, darling.” Blond brows raising, “Though you did make a careless mistake-”
“I’m sorry—” You’re botching out through the husky cries in your throat, “I’m sorry, sir-”
“So your final grade should come down to…” The professor trails off, his vulgar strokes thumpin’ away at your womb. Nanami shows no mercy for the bruises of his circumference he’s sure to be forming there, Nanami shows no signs of stopping- “-a fail.”
Your eyes snap wide open—“N-no please, isn’t there something else I can do to make up for it-” Fluttering your lashes in just the way you knew he liked - the same one you used all those times when you stayed behind his classes for something stupid. “-sir?”
Nanami’s biting down on his stern lower lip with a shiver, “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”
And then with no trouble, he’s placing a direct thump to the sweetest spot on the side of your channel that makes you scream. Just the sweetest speck that he’s pushing in on.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
The blond-haired man leans down till the strands of his slicked hair tickle your forehead, panting into your open mouth. “Then how about another assignment, hm? Extra credit?”
You nod fervently, sure that some rational part of you knew that this won’t actually affect your semester’s grades. And yet there was some other part of you that just wanted to please him, to jerk your hips up into his with the cutest whimpers. “Please- please, I’d be so grateful, sir.”
“I need you…” You’re awaiting the rest of his sentence eagerly—but Nanami Kento takes his looooong lecherous time pumping his cock into you in the meantime. Push after push. Breath after breath against the shell of your ear, “-to get pregnant by me.”
That was your assignment?
That was your assignment?
It sends your mind into a tizzy, and you’re just about opening your mouth to answer-
When the bed dips beside you.
You’re looking up into the murky peripherals of Geto Suguru, his smile almost feline on his beautiful face. He looks between your shocked expression and Nanami’s furrowed brows, throwing his locks over his shoulder. “What? I thought class was in session?”
Nanami grumbles, “Don’t push it…”
“You don’t expect more than one student at a time?” He’s humming, milky thighs now splayed out on the mattress. You’re gulping as you watch him cup his thickened base with one hand, giving his red-hot length a few pumps. “It’s alright, I’ll just sit alllll the way at the very back-”
And you gasp at the feeling of him pressing his veiny shaft into your open palm. Curling his ringed fingers around your smaller ones to give his erection a drag—
“-you won’t even- hck! know m’here.”
“Tch-” Nanami clicks his tongue, channeling the tension at having the other man use your pretty self- into none other than your cunt. Into none other than thwacking! his heavy shaft deeper, harder, into you.
You’re starting to get pushed up to the headboard, doing your very best to keep a constant rhythm on Geto’s handjob. “Please- ngh, please m’not gonna last long-”
“I can’t bear it either.” Gojo’s shaky tone rings out.
He’s taking just one step before Nanami sternly barks- “Another step and I bribe all your professors into failing you this semester.”
The blue-eyed man slouches in and grumbles.
All as the other two ruin you-
“Then here’s a mini-quiz for you, gorgeous.” Geto hums, and Nanami glares at the other man. He continues as if he doesn’t see, “Who’s going to cum first- A). You…” And it sure was heading in that direction, if the way that Nanami was hitting your g-spot dead-on was anything to go by - you didn’t even know how he managed to spot it so precisely. The ratios of it being molded into your very cunt by his cock- “B). Professor Nanami Kento, here.”
His ruby tip twitches deep against the gummy depths of your walls, spurting out a wad of promising white pre.
“Or C). Me.”
And despite being you who was asked the question, it’s Nanami who’s speaking up. “I don’t care what it is.” He runs a free hand down the front of your stomach, “As long as my daughter’s healthy.”
When he’d first walked through those fraternity doors, you’d expected Nanami to have been the restrained one. Perhaps the one that was more put-together than the other, perhaps the one that wouldn’t have been as affected by the little ongoing challenge to get you pregnant.
And yet, you’re realizing that perhaps your professor was a family man after all.
In no time he’s dragging his cock out with a groan, letting the golden curls down his front scrape your skin carnally. Before with a final thrust- you’re cumming. Again.
“Shit-” Head growing airy at the feeling of him bruisin’ your bundle of nerves again and again and again. “How are you s-so good at hitting- that- spot-”
“Fuck, look at the way she’s dripping.” Gojo’s awed tone breaks across your synchronized moans.
At the same time, both men on top of you were burstin’ out into their own white-hot high. And from the edge of the room, the other two could see the coating of pure white around Nanami’s lengthy cock as he fucks his miry ribbons inside.
Spraying your insides like a flood. Hot and wet.
It’s a constant wave of creamy white overtaking the spots inside your walls, thoroughly glazing you from the inside. Gluing your thighs together. Feeling the salty aftertaste at your throat. “Sh-shit, oh my god.” And not a single drop was wasted because of the pillow he’d smartly kept underneath you- “I feel so full, sir.”
“Sir? How kinky.” Geto’s panting out, thighs falling open. It only takes you a few slippery pumps to realize that he was pourin’ out his orgasm as well. Down your wrist. Splattering onto your face.
Gliding uuuuup and down, uuuuup and down in an unsteady rhythm- shit, he has to admit that even those little jerks you give when Nanami smacks his hips onto yours felt good. Geto starts rutting up into you, his fuzzy black happy trail scratching your skin.
Soaking with his cum.
Nanami’s nose crinkles when Geto dips a hand down to swipe at his treacly syrup and smear it all over your lips. “You, Suguru…” As if to say that your lips belonged to him, as if daring the other man to kiss you this way.
“What about me?”
“If you thought that would stop me…”
Your professor’s placing his lips onto yours instantly, murmuring-
“How could I not kiss the future mother of my kids? Congratulations on completing my assignment, darling.” He reaches a hand down to thumb inside your hole, just a few slick remnants that he had to take care of. “And congratulations on my daughter-”
“Th-thank you, sir.”
You could barely even breathe- just so much of Nanami’s and the others’ stuffing you from the inside.
“It seems the answer was D)...” Geto rasps out, voice unsteady with the waves of bliss he was still riding out on your pretty palm. “All of the above.”
“That’s it- get off, my turn.” Gojo’s familiar tone bites out from nearby - though you were much too exhausted by this point to actually turn your head and look.
Sukuna hums too, “I’ve never been more excited to do an assignment in my- heh, entire fuckin’ life.”
Nanami sighs, as if the other men were wearing on him already. He doesn’t look at them as he sticks his hand out, “My tie.”
They pause, for just a little- before Gojo’s the one to actually spot the professor’s usual tie. Handing it to him with a confused look…a confused look that slowly melts into sensual agony once the blond-haired man ties the slip of fabric around your wrists.
Tight.
Restraining you to him—he’s using his makeshift handcuffs to draaaag you to him like a ragdoll. “Now, you better behave while we breed you, my love.”
“Yes, sir.”
.
.
.
It’s one more round with Nanami and a sloppy makeout with Geto later that you find yourself being pummeled by Sukuna…and Gojo?
They’d shifted you to lay on top of the wrestler’s toned body, your maw droolin’ a wet sheen down his prominent pecs. He provided the perfect cushioning for you while drilling into you like a madman—again and again reclaiming the depths of your cunt as his.
While Gojo was pistoning his cock hurriedly into you from behind.
Of course, he’d reached his high with a groan the moment he’d slid his furious cockhead into your second entrance. Furiously pushin’ his sappy wads inside-
“Sh-shit…” The nerdy man shivers as he feels you clench your velvety insides, glasses slippin’ down his nosebridge. He could feel the outline of Sukuna’s thick cock sliiiiiiding against his- and he has to bite back a shudder at the fact. “Your dick’s so small, it’s depressing to feel it through my girl’s pretty anorectal junction-”
“You think I like feeling yours, two-pump chump?” Sukuna bites back. “M’trying to breed my woman here, how am I supposed to that when-”
“Wait wait wait- your woman?”
“Your girl?”
“Can you guys just sh-shut up and—fuck me—?” You’re trilling out stupidly, having had enough of the two men bickering above you.
They more they argued, the harder they were fucking your two holes - each vein, ridge, and dimple plastering against your walls. It was just an incredible sensation, mind growing blanker by the thrust. By the ruuuuuub of their matching paces furiously filling in, splurging out pre, smearin’ the slick mess. Not a single spot was left unturned as you were being stretched out on both ends, having both cylindrical intrusions claim you-
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
“You said it, mama.”
Neither of them would admit that having the other felt good for them, too…
It’s then that there’s—no, there’s no knock on the door.
Because you have to understand that most fraternity brothers have seen all there is to see, which meant that basic manners were rather…forgotten whenever they were inside the house. Not that it ever revealed anything jaw-dropping during times like this, and most would just assume that a brother would lock the door if they’re ever having…time to themselves.
And you also have to understand that Ryomen Sukuna hated locking the door.
So it opens just a crack with a foreboding creeeeeeak—! and in walks the emo sex dream on campus.
5. Choso Kamo.
In Geto’s band.
Wears eyeliner on a daily basis.
Always quiet and walking around campus with nothing but his headphones and sketchbook (artsy ooo~)
Wanna make him whimper!!
The very same man who, last semester, had shyly asked to draw you for his art exhibition - and ended up creating the most beautiful portrait humanly possible. It was one you couldn’t believe was of a person of this realm, let alone you. And when you’d told half-joking told Choso that, he’d replied—
“But of course it’s of someone from this realm.” His sweet doey eyes had scrunched in a way that was so genuinely confused, “It’s of you. Do you not see yourself like I see you?”
You had to admit that you’d carried a little hallway crush on him since then.
And there he was—not a step made inside Sukuna’s room before you’d dragged him to the bed yourself.
In almost no time, you’d made Choso sit in the middle of the dampened bed- your legs somehow straddling his waist, your back arching, your moans filtering into the sticky air as you rode his cock with such hunger.
“I-I just came to deliver Sukuna his baggie-”
Sukuna grunts, “Oh yeah, thanks.”
“-and y-you’re saying that—ngh.” You never imagined that Choso Kamo would be the type that couldn’t control his mewls, but right now every time your walls squeezed him just a tad too tight he was makin’ the cutest noises. “You’re saying that the goal is to- hck! g-get you pregnant, baby?”
“Yes, so good, Cho.” You’re blabbering out, your eyes practically turned into hearts.
Somehow…Choso was the largest size of them all- perhaps not the thickest, but his length was just increeeeeedible. Long and lucious, with the prettiest blushing tip. He was long enough that he was bashin’ at your gooey cervix without even being all the way inside, he was long enough that he pumped all the way deeply against your womb and you got the distinct feeling that he’d go even deeper if he could-
“Eleven inches.” Gojo’s awestruck whisper breaks through your frenzied mind, “I swear that guy’s eleven inches-”
And the worst (or perhaps best) part was the silver Prince Albert’s piercing that he proudly donned on his mushroomy tip. Cold metal contrasting with the feverish heat of his cock—making your irises swirl in the white of your eyes.
Geto whistles, “See the amount of cum pourin’ out of her? He might as well have undid all our hard work-”
“Why that emo little-”
“That only means we get to go again.” Sukuna hums with a smirk. Not waiting for the others’ reactions before he’s siddling up behind you, kissing aaaaaall the way down the line of your spine before reachin’ a hand between your legs.
And you jolt as you feel the sudden spikes of pleasure taking over your cunt, Sukuna’s thick fingertips pryin’ aside your pussylips to latch onto your clit. He’s toyin’ with your clit while you ride Choso, “F—fuck, keep going like that, it feels too good-”
“And so you mean to say- we can g-get you pregnant…?” Though Choso’s mind remained fixated on only one thing, and his voice quivered in disbelief. “We can really get you pregnant? Really, really get you preg-”
“For fucks’ sake-”
“You can, baby.” You’re cutting off Sukuna’s rumble- making the other man huff and continue to roll his thumb against your knobbly clit. His erection rutting into you ravenously from behind, “You can cum inside me-”
Choso’s beautiful brown eyes widen, “Cum inside-” He bucks at just the words leaving your mouth.
“And fuck it inside all you want.” You don’t think you’ve felt this much power since you made Gojo cum just with a single touch of your pussy. And Choso was easily the same type to get utterly pussydrunk after only a few glides of his veiny cock.
Just babbling and babbling away with the clenches of your cunt whenever you felt his pierced tip. He’s striking his painfully hard tip on top of your g-spot and letting the tears flow until you wondered who was feeling the sensation-
“Are you alright, baby?” You’re pushing back his sweaty bangs, staring into those eyes of his that were smudged with eyeliner.
Sukuna leans over, “Yer never that nice to me, woman-”
“Shush before I ban you from the bed.” You huff.
“My own bed?”
But the King of the Ring quietens down anyways, watching down as the man being ridden manages to string together a few coherent words - he couldn’t blame his frat brother. After all, he’d already felt the filthy heaven that was your pussy, and it almost made him lose his mind as well…And by now Choso was far beyond ruined—“So let me get this…get this straight-”
“Go on, baby.” You’re noticing that the man below you was so shattered that his mere body was jolting at the mention of anything to do with a baby.
Even that cutesy nickname for him made him spurt out in a steam of miry pre, clinging onto your insides. He gasps, “You’re saying that you want to- to have…my baby?”
Gojo pipes up from somewhere across the edge of the room, “And mine!”
“Mine first~” Geto follows.
A heated huff behind you. “Heh, good fuckin’ luck because it’s gonna be mine.”
“That is unless it’s not mine.” Nanami pushes up his glasses, “Which will be impossible.”
Choso’s growing more and more dazed the more and more they speak—or perhaps he was just reacting to the speeding up of your hips. The way you’re leaning in so close with a sultry smile and saying, “It can be yours, too, Cho—”
And that’s all that it takes to make the poor man cum.
He didn’t expect it- he didn’t even think that it was on its way judging by the sudden jolt that wracks through him. Choso throws his head into the crook of your shoulder, jaw dropping open with little sobs as he furiously fucks himself through his high.
Again and again.
Wave after wave.
You think that Sukuna’s ministrations might have you hitting one of yours, as well - but by now, you were far too gone to actually feel anything but tender zaps of pleasure.
Too caught up in the way that the brown-haired man was poooouring out as many droplets of cum as his balls could hold. Every single one. “You’re saying- you’re saying that m’gonna be the one to breed you—?” He’s rasping out against the side of your neck, and Sukuna claims your other side with a possessive growl. “You’re saying that I’m gonna fuck you all f-full and glowing?”
Arching into the two toned men that sandwiched your, “Yes, please-”
“I’m gonna feed this cunt with all the- ngh, cum she wants.” All the wants and more—it was drippin’ out of you, a milky sheen that coats all three sets of your thighs, Choso’s own, and Sukuna’s. “And then she’s gonna turn it into a baby that’s mine?”
Gojo scoffs, “Erm, actually-”
“And she’s gonna be as beautiful as you-” Choso doesn’t even seem to notice the interruption, doesn’t even seem to notice that he wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t doing anything but moving his plump tip inside of you and bashing every orifice with his puckered, pierced tip- “And she’s gonna have your smile, my eyes, your laugh, my hair—fuck, she’s gonna be just as beautiful as you.”
It seems that he’s tapered out the miry white cum that’d been seeping into you, and the man finds himself reclining back on Sukuna’s bed.
Holding onto either side of your hips now, you’re shocked at the sudden claim that overcomes him once Choso bucks his hips of the bedsprings and starts rutting inside you- “Gonna be so fucking beautiful- gonna be so fucking mine.” Tip bulging. Piercing slick.
“P-pleeeease, Cho—” Your head throws back, body starting to lean against Sukuna’s for support.
When the other man swats away Sukuna’s hand with no fear and starts toyin’ hearts on top of your clit himself. The chipped black of his nail polish marking out exactly where his fingers were moving in a frenzy.
The wrestler raises a brow, “Oi…”
But Choso’s paying no heed, “Gonna fuck- fuck my baby into ya, baby.” His dark lashes quiver with tears, just so big and pretty and sensitive. “Gonna have everyone look at you and see what I did-” Gojo gets up with a growl, and Choso only spreads apart your pussylips with his fingers so that he can see better. The way you were dripping in his cum.
“Gonna have everyone see you walking down the street and know that I got you pregnant.” It was just so surprising the sheer intensity he was fucking you with—you’re crash-landing into yet another high of the night. And the emo boy was fucking you perfectly through it, letting his bulbous piercing scraaape your dewy insides. “Gonna have everyone see you buying baby clothes and let them know that’s for my baby.” Balls tightening, “Gonna have these fuckers see her in nine months and see me, me, me—”
Choso’s fucked himself into oblivion against your cunt, inside your sopping wet walls - until he’s pushing into his second high of the night.
And the more he’s pushing those clingy white wads inside, the more pussydrunk he seems to be getting. “Gonna—-pregnant.” Only broken fragments of his thoughts and words echoing out, Choso was rubbin’ his reddened tip raw on your pussy. “Get you—ngh, mine—baby…”
Again and again, he was emptying his aching balls inside of you. Twitching after each white-hot pour of his syrup that left you flooded.
And it’s only after he’s done with his wave of euphoria that your jaw drops at his state. Utterly ruined.
“Are you o-okay, Cho?” Genuinely asking.
But the pierced man only looks up at you with tears in his eyes, “Baby, am- am I pregnant?”
Your jaw drops—fuck. Fuck, he was that pussydrunk.
But Sukuna only cackles from behind you, “The fuck did you ask?” He looks over his shoulder at the three other men who were just hypnotized by the sight, “Oi! D’you fuckers hear that?”
“It’s certainly an interesting idea.” Geto hums, drawing nearer.
“And yet, mostly implausible.” Nanami replies.
“If there’s anyone here that she’s going to get pregnant first- then it’s going to be me.” Gojo stabs a thumb at himself, and you all turn to look at him. Slightly abashed at the sudden attention, he pushes his glasses up his nose with a blush. “B-but of course, I know that’s impossible with the considerations of a lack of seminiferous tubules and even if there was a vans deferens the considerations of a male womb…” Trailing off.
You’re so fucked that you almost don’t realize that all five men were on the bed in mere moments.
Surrounding you.
Gojo and Nanami’s cocks being guided to your sweaty hands, they themselves starting to move your palms down their needy lengths. Choso perking his hips up still as if unstoppable, as if it doesn’t even matter how sensitive he was if he could just fill you up once more—
“H-hold on-” You’re gasping down at the brown-haired man, “Hold on, Cho, are you sure you can-”
“Hold on?” Choso chokes out, “Hold on.”
Before tunneling straight into your womb with no apology-
“M’trying to f-fuck you till you’re pregnant and dripping with my seed and you want me to hold on- never say that again, baby.” He leans in closer and whispers, “Never.”
Before your mouth’s plugged up with Sukuna’s cock.
.
.
.
Where the others were possessive, Geto was just downright filthy.
You hadn’t even allowed your brain to register the feeling of Choso’s plummy, split-ended tip pulling out of you with a plop! Just the sheer length of it singed into your walls- “Sh-shit.” You’re shivering sensitively, “What now—oh.”
And you don’t have to ask before you’re feeling it again.
Him.
Geto Suguru with his muscular front against your back, taking Sukuna’s position behind you on the mattress. “A full nelson, huh, Ryomen?” His breathy voice echoes out behind you. “You know, that might just work- c’mere, Satoru.”
Gojo perks up where he’d been sulking in his chair, “Me?”
“You.” All laid behind Geto now, you were just so far gone that you barely even feel it once he spreads apart your jittery legs. With a single swipe of his ringed fingers, he’s baring your cream-covered cunt for everyone to see. All gooey and wet with the wads of cum trickling out of you. “C’mere and eat her out while I fuck her.”
“I thought you were going to let me fuck her- out of the kindness of your heart.” Gojo huffs, but gets down before you two anyways.
“What heart?”
And it’s the last thing you’re hearing before Geto’s incredibly hardcockhead is mazing between your walls. He’d waited all this time since the beginning of the night, through the new additions to the bedroom, and now was his time. Now he was not waiting a single second for you to get used to his primal size. Not waiting a single second even feeling apologetic-
“S’because I have no heart that m’reaching for hers~”
Gojo might have been the longer out of the two, but Geto was most certainly the thickest. An incredible girth that might just be one of the thickest you’ve encountered this entire night, his entire tannish tip covered in a few squiggly veins that perfectly outlined your cunt.
And the thing was—
Geto lived up to be just as good as his mouth was - he lived up to all the talk. He was leaving you stupid with only a few swabs of his puckered red tip, dribblin’ out gooey pre ‘round your entrance and then pushing then pushing each ounce iiiiiiinwards.
Again and again.
2. Geto Suguru.
Fucking PRETTY
Rings
In a band
Already super close friends. Two in one go??
You met him at one of his gigs on campus, and you admit you’d been struck by the music- but also the singer himself. Rather accosting him after the show, it was a fast track to becoming friends.
And Geto Suguru was…Geto Suguru.
Anyone else might have gone a little slower in the beginning, anyone else might have let you at least get used to his incredible length before utterly ruining you - but Geto Suguru had your pussylips split upon his cock and was reaching in ravenously. Hard. Quick strikes. Not waiting a single second before plapping! at the very back of your spongy cervix and glidin’ back down, not waiting a single second after he’s making everyone’s cum pour out of you-
And Geto doesn’t even speak to you from behind until he’s sure he’s made your pretty pussy surge into your orgasm at least twice like his.
Carefully movin’ about the rude red tip of his shaft, he spanks a bruise onto your g-spot a few times and watches as you shatter as if made of porcelain-
“So how about it, gorgeous?” Geto’s gasping voice from behind you, the curtain of his long inky hair tickling your sensitive skin. He had you pinned against his back with a single pale arm, “Decided on which one of us you want to make your- hngh, baby daddy yet?”
“F-fuck, I’m not quite…” Your sentence trails off with pleasure.
“Yeah? Not quite yet?” He continues from behind you, acting for all the world as if he wasn’t just singlehandedly ruining you on his velvety shaft. And you could practically hear the pout in his purring voice, “Well, you’re going to have to- mmm, decide soon if you really wanna baby, y’know?”
Back arching, “Yes—yes-”
“Oh, who am I kidding?” And the waves of your bliss were roaring in your ears, leaving your friend’s sing-song voice sound as if almost from a distance.
He doesn’t say anything before reaching his roughened-up hands down between your tits, sloooowly - almost as if he was attempting not to scare off his prey. “There’s someone- heh, better I can ask about that…”
“What are you…” You’re choking on so many of your whines as he reaches down and presses the slender tips of his fingers on top of your stomach, slightly bloated with sopping cum. And it just makes you guuuuush- “Shit shit sh-shit, Suguru, what are you—oh.”
“Whoops, was that me?” Geto’s purring out from behind you, ignoring the protests that erupt from every corner of the room. “Silly me~ I didn’t realize she was leaking this fucking much- we might just hafta fuck her like this all over again boys.”
“I mean, I would gladly.” Sukuna rumbles.
“Shit, same.” The white-haired man gulps from below, it was here that he could get the perfect vision of the ivory sap flowing out of you. Hotly melting between your pussylips and reachin’ the curled tip of his tongue, “Shit, what are you even doing to her, Suguru-”
“Hmmmm—?” Because none of them had ever fucked you like this.
While the other men had their goals of breeding you until you were all roooound and glowing, Geto had a slightly altered goal of doing that in the way that would most leave your pussy crying. Leave you crying.
They could see it right now, the way that the bassist would speed his slender hips until they were almost nothing but a blur between your legs. Roughly mazin’ the crown edge of his shaft until it felt like you were twitching from pleasure- until it felt like you were just a liiiiittle too close to reaching your high. And the only thing that Geto Suguru could do then is slow down.
Achingly so, until you’re left sobbing for more—
“Too fucking filthy.” Sukuna’s whistling, bulging biceps crossed. He cocks his head at the nerdy man, “So are ya gonna eat her out or just stare- because I could do a right job of it-”
“Shut up.”
And Gojo Satoru was never one to not catch up.
He lets his slick tongue flop out, gulping at the ivory sap flowing out of you. It’s like a hot melt between your swollen pussylips- “Mmm—” So fucking filthy. Too fucking filthy. And yet, he didn’t know if he was the filthier one for then reaching out and letting his tongue across your folds, dipping just a little lower…“Mmmpf- Suguru, did she say which one of us she wanted as the- hngh, baby’s father yet?”
“Tha’s exactly what I’m asking her, Satoru.” Geto responds.
And in no time you’re feeling his fingertips push down on your womb once again, making it hard for you not to shatter into yet another one of your highs - but you were so overstimulated by this point that even that felt like a mere few tingles. “Let’s seeeee—” His breathy tone was in your ear, lookin’ down at the other man between your legs. “I think m’hearing ‘Suguru’, gorgeous…”
“Where the fuck are you-” Gojo himself is interrupted by a particularly loud splosh of sap trickling out from between your pussylips. And he can’t lie, he’s listening to the noise himself as if it was human words. “She did not fucking say that, don’t put words in my girl’s mouth- pussy.”
Geto arches a brow, “Then what did she say?”
“She said ‘Satoru’.” Stubbornly replying from below.
Geto’s snapping his hips up viciously at the feeling of his best friend’s tongue licking at your hole, parts of his textured tongue gliding down his own shaft. “Mmm, you fucking wish- just listen to her.” Making the echoing slurps grow louder and louder.
“Nuh-uh, fucking listen to this-” With the other man’s tongue slippin’ between your folds and dragging out just as many noises.
“Heh, yeah right—”
You didn’t even know which one of them was being louder at this point, because whenever you thought that it might be Geto then Gojo was tuggin’ on your clit with his teeth and making you moan- and whenever you thought that it might be Gojo then Geto was planting his hand down on your tummy and making you leak out. Making you formulate a puddle of slick that both men were just addicted to—
“P-please…” As if this was nothing but your little mantra, and it kept echoing out of you like a broken record player. You didn’t know what exactly you were begging for - for more, for mercy, for your life-
“I know.” Geto hisses from behind you, his sharp canines starting to dig into the side of your neck. “How about we ask her, Satoru?”
Gojo’s eyes snap above his foggy glasses, “Good idea- sweetheart, isn’t it me that your womb’s begging for?”
“Isn’t it me you’ve been dreaming of getting pregnant by?” Geto speaks out as well.
And you’re following the two men like a tennis match, with your stupidly dazed eyes bouncing between the rude pumps that Geto was placing on your cunt, the way that Gojo’s tongue somehow forked into all the right places.
Driving you wild.
“I-is it me, sweetheart-”
“It’s me, isn’t it, gorgeous-”
And when it seemed as though you were far too stupid on their movements to answer, Geto was reaching his hand down and pinching your clit—the very same that Gojo was surging up to and suckling. Both of them are fighting for purchase on you. Both of them ending up only making your pleasure ebb even deeper- and your nth high of the night crashing through your body.
“B-both—!” You’re calling out, getting the lewd attention of everyone watching. You buck and thrash on top of him, “Want both, Suguru- Satoru- fuck, I want both of you-”
“Then it’s settled.”
The bulbous end of his cock pulses away inside you, dragging back and forth along your walls in a way that was frenzied. He smears aside your legs even further and furrows his brows, “Then it’s settled-” Geto’s pants making the skin on the side of your neck perspire, his slender hips arching up into you in a way that you weren’t even sure was possible. Just the best angles hittin’ each throbbing spot inside you until you gasp, ”-that our baby’s gonna have two daddies, huh?”
And it’s almost as if that was enough to make Geto Suguru crash into his own high, like he couldn’t control himself at the image - he couldn’t stop himself at the thought of you being fucked by him and his best friend. In no time, his high was shooting straight through him and ending up smeared against the wetness of your cervix.
Right at the very back, it’s splattering out in a distinct warmth that you note. He doesn’t move a single inch as he pumps you through the shivers of his high. Pump after pump. Push after push that leaves you primally speechless. “Oh my god—” Your mouth waters as you’re filled up with wad after wad of gooey white-
“Suguru’s just fine, gorgeous.” He hums from beneath you, thrusts loooooong and thorough pushing in every single ribbony white excess. “Or maybe even- the future father of your kids.”
“I-I’d like that…” Twitching through the way he was fucking you like an animal. And just below, Gojo was much the same- just lickin’ and lickin’ away between your legs while Geto fucked you stupid. You’re filled up to the brim, until it was almost too much to keep inside—
And Gojo thinks he might just cream himself just from the very vision- “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already, Satoru?”
“Fuck off, Suguru.”
.
.
Toji Fushiguro doesn’t get fucking paid enough.
Being the security guard on a college campus isn’t exactly the most lucrative job in the first place, but it was made worse by the fact that he had to deal with that—college kids. Toji himself was about ten years past his own college day, though that was not to say that his experience as a security guard didn’t hone him to handle all clientele. He could handle awkward high schoolers. He didn’t care about screaming middle schoolers.
Hell- even the pre-schoolers seemed to have just a bit more sense than some twenty-somethings with too much alcohol and too little self-preservation on their hands.
Which is why he was answering a call at 3AM.
Perfect, those never bode well.
The complaint had come from the resident of some nearby dorm who’d happened to pass by the Curses Epsilon frat house (god, Toji fucking hated frats) and heard some…strange noises. It was far too loud and far too many voices for them to discern, apparently. And though they’d rung the bell, it seems that no one had been home.
Except for the strange noises, that is!
Looking up at the sprawling mansion from here, Toji could see just one light in the entire building turned on. It seems there was someone home - though likely only the resident of this particular room.
And Toji didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that this was likely some frat dudebro (god, Toji fucking hated dudebros) who had a bad trip or far too much to drink. This fraternity in particular was always infamous for their ragers, ones that Toji himself has had to shut down many times.
So he’s announcing his presence before trying the door hand and—ah, and it opens. Just as he expected (god, did he say he fucking hated frats?)
Entering through the dimly-lit living space, the noises only got louder the closer he got to a certain resident’s room.
The closer he got to—
“What the-” Toji’s flinging open the door to Ryomen Sukuna’s room, breath catching at the sight (cock twitching). “-fuck.”
You.
You, you, you, you.
Toji Fushiguro has wanted to fuck you since the moment he saw you.
Ever since last semester when you’d bribed him - oh, the sweet audacity - into letting you and your friends throw a party by bringing him a bottle of fine whiskey. He’d laughed in your face, of course, before ultimately taking the spoils and grumbling that you could (‘but only until 1AM’ he’d said).
That night he sipped on his whiskey, wondering if the pretty pussy underneath that thin skirt of yours was just as sweet. Just as addictive.
And here you were now—laid across Ryomen Sukuna’s bed and being filled by five men in all of your holes.
And, well, did Toji mention that he didn’t get paid enough?
6. Toji Fushiguro.
That HOT campus security omg (someone should put his face on the campus magazine and the applications would fill in)
BUFFFFFFFFFFFFF X5
Gruff but lowkey has a soft spot
Rumor says he’s a DILF (hmmm?)
He’s starting to tug off his uniform immediately, “Don’tcha worry, doll-” Toji snickers at the shocked look on your face, looming closer to you. To where you were sprawled on the bed and getting pinned by one set of Sukuna’s hands. “-I don’t snitch.”
And the long-haired one in a band - Geto, he believes his name was - grins. “Welcome to the club.”
The rickety bedsprings creak as he joins you all on the bed. “This bed’s gonna fuckin’ break.” Sukuna rolls his eyes.
“Shut up, brat.” And only the older man was the only one here who would possibly talk to Ryomen Sukuna that way. Toji shoos away the other men to meet you in the middle of his dampened sheets, brows raising at the sheer amount of white sap pourin’ out of you. He’d overheard some of the things that’d been said before he came but…fuck. “Damn, they really did a number on you, hm?”
You can only nod, “Mhm—”
“And you don’t regret a single thing.”
“W-well…” You look away, unsure what to say.
“No no, s’good.” Toji coos—almost. His tone was far too mean for that, “A girl like you should enjoy yourself during your college years.”
You’re jolting at the inkling of something dangerous in his tone- as do some of the others. But you don’t get to think too long about it before Toji has one roughened hand flipping you over. The other shoving your head down into the pillows- “But let me show you how a real man breeds ya now.”
You can only nod.
He tugs down - merely tugs down - his pants until the thick reddened tip of his cock hits your pussylips. Smearin’ down the crevice of your cunt, watching as you drivel a wet glaze down Toji’s length—he wastes no fucking time before edging his hips upwards and shoving—“Y’know, I’ve always wondered whether these college boys were fuckin’ you right.”
“N-ngh, fuck—” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Toji was just so thick - thicker than anyone here, with more veins than your feverish mind could even count by now.
“Yeah? I’ve always wondered whether they could- ngh, satiate this pretty pussy like she deserves-” Toji snickers, watching as you shake beneath him. “-the way I could do it.”
“H-hey! I think we did a good job-” Toji sends Gojo one look his way and he shuts up.
The older man glides his calloused fingertips down your spine, drawing sensual hearts that make you shiver. “Because unlike these damn college boys, y’know it takes a reeeeal hard earner ta know the feeling of wantin’ to provide.” He’s gruffing out, hips hitting yours in half-ruts. “A real family man.”
“Oh fuck off, old man.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “You’re looking at the future of wrestling right here-”
“And a future Nobel Prize winner!” Gojo pipes up, but hides behind the pink-haired man anyway.
Nanami chimes in as well, “I fear I simply do not see the point you are trying to make, Mr. Fushiguro.”
They were in an uproar.
But to everyone’s surprise…Toji Fushiguro isn’t getting angry. Toji Fushiguro is smiling- “Hehhhh, fear you don’t see the point m’trying to make, huh? Let’s just put it this way then…” Almost muttering to himself, before he’s grabbing onto either side of your waist and funneling your womb with all his girthy seven inches. “-we’re about to make my son a big brother tonight.”
Their jaws drop.
Oh.
Oh.
They were well-aware that the security guard was single, all by his lonesome, according to gossiping admirers who had the courage to ask - but no one could have ever guessed that the man had a son.
And right now he was fucking you like he wanted to make a second-
“I’ve always wanted to show her- fuck, to show this pussy that even older men can fuck you gooooood, honey.” Just as he promises, he’s reaching for your g-spot faster than anyone else before him. Harder. Scourin’ your honeyed walls and making sure that Toji’s cock was thoroughly etched against your pussy, “So how about it? Got a thing for DILFs?”
“Yes—” Your velvety walls are squeezing his length and Toji holds onto you so tight that his nail marks take home on your skin. “Yes fuck, how did you know-”
“Because everyone’s gotta thing for DILFs.” He’s snickering from above you, abs glissading faster down your back. Your mouth drops ajar at the way that Toji reaches down and squeezes your clit with no hesitation. “But whaddaya feel about becoming a MILF?”
“Sh-she was mine first.” Gojo growls out from your side, holding onto your arm as if to tug you away.
But Toji only glances over like he just realized the other man was there, lazily looking him up and down. “Natural selection, kid. I’m gonna be the one to make her a momma.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Keeeep talking.”
Toji Fushiguro’s fucking you like an animal - short, rapid bucks and ruts of his hips just to fit inside. Just to manage to stretch out your walls to his girth, and then draaaaag all the way back out again to repeat. “Heh, s’a big stretch- I know.” Almost as if he was out of control. And with his meanness, he didn’t mind being so sloppy with it that after a few thrusts his cockhead would slip out of your hole. Ending up slidin’ between your lips and grazing his flared slit along your most sensitive spots. Toji holds onto the base of his cock and shovels in even more ruthlessly than before.
Just to make you whine a bit more—
“Handle it.” He gruffs out from behind you, shaggy black bangs tickling the back of your neck. And Toji’s pistoning into you at a pace that leaves you dizzy, “I said fucking- hah, handle it. Yer gonna have an even bigger of a stretch down there in nine months- heh.”
“You’re just so mean.” You huff.
“Me?” Toji coos in amusement, “Aw, doll, you haven’t seen mean yet.”
You’re holding onto his pale pillows for dear life as he fills you up once more, “Ohhh, feels so good, Toji-” Again. And again.
“Oh yeah? Oh yeah?” And he sounds fucking ecstatic at the fact. He grips onto the back of your throat with one hand, “You see- when ya get to my age you just don’t have time for the- hah, nonsense.” Fucking you hard and fast.
And purposeful.
It felt like Toji’s rounded tip was hitting every spot he wanted it to, and even the slightest rub of his zig-zagging veins left you speechless. You weren’t even sure whether you were shaking because of the sheer stimulation or because he was just that good- “Just needa find a niiiice girl ta settle down with.” His rumbling tone continues, “Treat her all nice, get her everything she wants- heh, then pump her full with a kid or two—get all of them everything they want.”
“Shit-” You gasp out, trying to buck against the creaky mattress. “Fuck, m’just so sensitive-”
“And what is it that you want, momma?”
The only thing that you can cry out now, “T-to cum—”
His fingers twist on your clit even harder, “Anything for the mother of my kid.” He speeds up, heavy balls hitting you in light spanks. “Anything-” He snarls, your cunt was just dangerously fluttering around him. “Goooood, right? Goooood?”
“Good-” You hiccup- “So good-”
“Nuh uh, doll- s’it so goooood?”
Toji might have been teasing you, but you still manage to find yourself repeating. “S-so gooooood-”
“Soooo good?”
Completely dumbified by now that you weren’t even sure what you were saying, the tell-tale twitches at the base of your stomach tells you that you’re close. “So, sooooo good.”
“Heh, how cute. So dumb on my cock.” He hums, “And can ya say Mrs. Toji Fushiguro?”
“Mrs. Toji—oh.”
And the next thing you’re actually seeing with your own two eyes…the bulging erection of Gojo Satoru. His pale thighs spread wide open in front of you, his puckered red tip being tapped on your lips. He wasn’t going to let you finish that particular sentence any time soon - or ever, really. “Open wide f’me, sweetheart? Let me see that cavum oris…”
“S-Satoru—” You whine, letting your jaw unfasten for him.
And it’s as if the moment they’re seeing their inexperienced friend take initiative, the rest of them were just rushing at you. Because Gojo’s slickly smooth tip thrusts between your lips- and then you have Geto and Sukuna’s hands dragging both of yours to their cocks.
Nanami’s even snaking his hands underneath to massage your sore tits.
Toji’s hands the only thing keeping your body held up- “Fuckin’ animals.” He’s hissing between gritted teeth, nose crinkling in a look of primal need. “Go easy on ‘er- she’s the momma of my future kid.”
“No, mine.” Nanami’s the first to speak.
“Mine.”
“Mine~”
Choso blinks, “M-mine?”
“N-no, mmm—” Gojo’s head falls back at the slide of your textured tongue underneath the line of his mushroom tip, “-mine.”
And when Toji finally cums it’s with all five other men still with their hands on you.
Pumping his seed in primal, rapid half-thrusts in and out.
Massaging your elastic hole. Caressing your deepest insides with all his puffy veins.
Your face is being pushed up against Gojo’s toned v-line and there’s nothing you can do about it, your nose scratching on his sultry ivory hairs. Toji’s length just felt so perfect - you could feel the curve of his cockhead piston gluey webs against your very throat with how hard he was pumping himself into you.
In and out, in and out, in and out until he could feel that sweet, sweet resistance of your hole and he’s forced to ease back out. He was reluctant to pull out even when he could feel the recoil of your cervix begging him to move- to fuck his ivory syrup deep inside.
So much of it—
All of it mixing into one making you feel so full-
“Ay ay- stop fucking into her mouth so hard, how m’I supposed to breed her like this?” Toji tuts at Gojo.
“Can you blame me?” He, too, was milking his length on your heavenly body. Overflowing with a line of cum that streams out from his pretty strawberry divot and down to your throat- Gojo watches it all disappear between your lips and shivers.
Until Toji roughens out an incredibly hard jackhammer that has you spilling a few strings out of your mouth. “Heh, whoops-”
“Fuck you-”
“Fuck you-”
“I thought we were fucking her.” Geto’s humming through the argument, tilting his head down at you. “How about me next, gorgeous?” And you wished you had the rationality at this point to let him know that you were just barely getting through your nth high of the night-
Waves of tender bliss flowing through you.
You think you might pass out.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo hisses, and you’re just letting of Toji’s cock with a pop! and a few more sultry sounds of cum gushing out of you. Before he’s crushing you to his front, staring them all down. “It’s my turn again.”
“You fuckin’ wish-”
“Satoru-”
“How crude-”
“Well…”
“She’s mine.”
1. Gojo Satoru.
Super cute
Probably a big D
Secret freak (tracked ovulation!??)
However has no experience (not quite a con?) and no place to fuck in (single bed + has a roommate, Geto)
2. Geto Suguru.
Fucking PRETTY
Rings
In a band
Already super close friends. Two in one go??
3. Ryomen Sukuna.
Frat boy™ (leader of Curses Epsilon)
Probably REALLY good in bed
On his way to become a pro wrestler (headlocks omg??)
Might be rough…
4. Nanami Kento.
The HOTTEST prof/ TA this campus has ever seen
Such a gentleman (opens doors, eye contact even when wearing skimpy tops, reads feminist books omg)
Mature
Some think he’d be dry in bed tho…
5. Choso Kamo.
In Geto’s band.
Wears eyeliner on a daily basis.
Always quiet and walking around campus with nothing but his headphones and sketchbook (artsy ooo~)
Wanna make him whimper!!
6. Toji Fushiguro.
That HOT campus security omg (someone should put his face on the campus magazine and the applications would fill in)
BUFFFFFFFFFFFFF X5
Gruff but lowkey has a soft spot
Rumor says he’s a DILF (hmmm?)
“Seems we have quite the conundrum on our hands.” Geto’s the one to hum above the squabbling, and as he turns to you, so does everyone else - all six of them.
Looking at you.
“So?” Gojo urges. “Which one of us will it be?”
A/N. The way I didn’t even KNOW how to tag this after I was done erm-
— no, kei doesn’t hate you. he even has a “marry me” broadcast going through his head.
tsukishima kei x telepath!f!reader
i’m experiencing a mid-life crisis right now. was supposed to upload this awhile ago but someone decided that i’m dumb for having emotions.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
you woke up with what could only be described as “death by headache.” not the normal kind. not the “i didn’t drink enough water yesterday” kind. not even the “i studied until 3 a.m. and now my body is revolting” kind.
this was cosmic. biblical. the kind of migraine that probably meant you were about to die or be chosen as a prophet.
and honestly? dying sounded preferable to going to karasuno high first thing on a monday.
you stumbled into your seat beside yamaguchi tadashi, who was muttering about history notes, and—without warning—you heard it. clear as day.
‘i hope tsukki didn’t forget his math homework. he always remembers but what if today’s the day. maybe i should have reminded him. oh crap, did i feed the class rabbit—’
your head shot up. yamaguchi’s lips weren’t moving. he was staring at his notebook, silent.
holy shit.
you could hear thoughts.
you spent the next five minutes spiraling. yamaguchi’s brain was a polite drizzle. a stream of anxieties, reminders, the occasional “i wonder if they’ll serve nikuman at lunch.” manageable.
but then—then—your gaze shifted across the room.
tsukishima kei.
the bane of your existence. the human embodiment of an eye roll. the boy who had mastered the art of making a simple “hello” sound like an insult. for weeks you had tried being nice to him—sitting near him, sharing snacks, cheering a little louder when he blocked during practice—and every time you were met with his signature brand of withering sarcasm.
you were sure he couldn’t stand you.
and then his thoughts slammed into your brain like a truck.
‘don’t. don’t do it. don’t look at her. oh fuck she’s looking. abort. holy shit she’s so pretty. oh my god i want to eat the pen she’s chewing on. is that normal? that’s not normal. stop staring, kei. roll your eyes. act annoyed. perfect. flawless cover. she’ll never know i’d let her step on me. god, her hands. imagine holding them. no, don’t imagine that, you’ll start drooling. fuck. fuck. FUCK.’
your pen clattered to the floor.
“what?” tsukishima deadpanned, flicking his gaze at you with all the warmth of a glacier.
‘did i just say fuck too loud in my head? can she hear me? no, impossible. god, she looks cute even when she’s confused. she’s confused a lot. i’d tutor her. i’d tutor her so hard. wait, that sounds dirty. fuck. pretend to hate her again. safe ground.’
“…do you mind not staring?” he added, bored.
you gripped your desk like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.
no. way.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
it only got worse from there.
lunchtime, for instance. you plopped down next to him just to test the waters. yamaguchi had gone to buy bread, leaving you alone with the beanpole. tsukishima didn’t even glance at you.
“wow,” he muttered, cracking his chopsticks, “guess you don’t have any other friends.”
inside his skull, however—
‘holy shit she chose to sit here. NEXT TO ME. this is it. this is the peak of my life. everything is downhill from here. our knees are so close. if i just—no. NO. don’t you dare, kei. stop shaking. she smells like strawberries. is that shampoo? body wash? do they make air fresheners in her scent? don’t sniff her hair, freak. don’t sniff. fuck, i want to sniff. smile at her. no, don’t. smile later. wait, she’s smiling first. oh god. she’s so cute. i’m going to combust.’
“nah,” you said cheerfully, “you’re my favorite.”
tsukishima dropped a piece of karaage back into his bento like you’d just proposed marriage.
“…you need better taste,” he said flatly.
‘favorite??? FAVORITE??? holy fuck holy shit marry me on the spot i’ll buy the rings right now i’ll sell yamaguchi’s bike if i have to—’
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the gym was even better.
you sat on the sidelines, cheering during practice, and every time tsukishima went up for a block, his brain went feral.
‘if i block this, she’ll smile at me. no, don’t think that. jinxing it. oh shit she’s already smiling. i can’t breathe. did she just wave? holy mother of god. that’s it. i’m dedicating my life to this girl. i’ll become the best blocker in japan just for her. fuck, i missed. wait—she’s still smiling. she has no standards. i love her.’
“tsk,” he hissed when hinata scored past him. “so annoying.”
‘if hinata makes her smile one more time i’ll spike the ball at his stupid head. no, wait. calm down. breathe. oh my god, she’s clapping. she’s clapping for ME. i’d commit crimes for that clap. i’d—’
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
by the end of the week you had collected an entire encyclopedia of tsukishima kei’s tragic brain.
when you dropped your eraser: ‘pick it up for her. no, that’s too obvious. but what if she thinks i’m rude? fuck. fuck. just pick it up and throw it at her. yeah. flawless.’
when you yawned in class: ‘she’s tired. oh my god, she’s tired. what if she’s not sleeping well? she should nap on my shoulder. no, wait, not here. at my house. in my bed. oh god. stop.’
when yamaguchi made you laugh: ‘how dare he. how DARE he. that’s MY laugh. mine. i’m going to kill him after school. gently. maybe.’
the wildest part? he thought he was subtle. genuinely believed his eye-roll act was foolproof, like you weren’t hearing every single desperate thought.
and you?
you were in trouble. because your little crush—the harmless flutter you’d tried to bury—was ballooning. rapidly. monstrously. how could it not, when the boy who called you “annoying” out loud was secretly writing poetry about your smile in his head?
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
walking home together one day was the final straw.
he acted like you were dragging him against his will. “you walk so slow,” he complained.
‘if a car even looked at her funny i’d kick it. i’d kick a whole car. i’d launch it into the stratosphere. walk slower. please. i want this to last forever.’
“you’re seriously hopeless,” he added, shoving his hands in his pockets.
‘i’d carry her bag. i’d carry HER. bridal style. piggyback. whatever she wants. god, i’m disgusting. i’d get on my knees right here if she asked.’
you laughed, bumping his shoulder. “you’re not as bad as you act, tsukki.”
his ears turned bright red. “shut up.”
‘don’t shut up. never shut up. talk forever. let me drown in your voice. fuck, she’s smiling again. i’m ruined. i’m actually ruined. yamaguchi, start planning the funeral.’
and honestly? maybe you were ruined, too.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
tsukishima didn’t let go of your hand the entire walk home.
not because he wanted to, of course. oh no, he was far too proud for that. he scowled the whole time, eyes fixed straight ahead, muttering under his breath about how sweaty your palms were.
but in his head?
‘don’t let go. never let go. if she tries to pull away i’ll throw myself into traffic. i’ll hold her hand until we’re eighty. my palm is sweaty because my entire nervous system has collapsed. god, she’s so small next to me. her hand fits perfectly. what the fuck. did god make her just to ruin me?’
you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
by the time you reached your street, you expected him to snatch his hand back, shove it in his pocket, and pretend none of it had happened. instead, he hesitated. shifted on his feet. adjusted his glasses.
“you live here, right?” he said gruffly.
you arched a brow. “you already know that.”
he bristled. “…don’t flatter yourself. yamaguchi told me.”
‘i memorized the exact number of steps from my house to hers. if i leave school at 3:47 i’ll catch her halfway home. fuck, she looks cute when she’s teasing me. wait, she knows i know, doesn’t she? oh my god, i’m pathetic.’
“hm,” you hummed, squeezing his hand before finally letting go.
he twitched at the loss of contact. ‘don’t leave me. come back. oh god, say something. say something normal. don’t beg her like a loser. oh my god i want to beg her. i’d get on my knees right now if she asked. STOP.’
“see you tomorrow, tsukki,” you said, waving.
he turned on his heel so fast you thought he might trip. “…yeah. whatever.”
‘sleep well. dream of me. oh god, what if she does. what if she doesn’t. holy shit. i’m so screwed.’
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
the days that followed were torture—for him, mostly.
he couldn’t look at you without thinking louder than ever, and you made a game of pretending not to notice.
in class, when you leaned over to borrow an eraser, he shoved it at you with a scoff. “you’re hopeless.”
‘take my eraser. take all my stationery. take my life. i’ll carve my initials into your pencil case if you let me. holy shit, she’s so close. she smells like strawberries again. don’t inhale like a creep. oh my god, i just inhaled like a creep. she heard that. i should die.’
during lunch, when yamaguchi teased him for being less grumpy around you, tsukishima snapped, “shut up, tadashi.”
‘he knows. he KNOWS. play it cool. don’t blush. oh god i’m blushing. she’s watching. is she laughing at me? holy shit she’s laughing. she’s so pretty. i’ll kill tadashi later.’
after practice, when you handed him a water bottle, he muttered, “what, you think i can’t get one myself?”
‘she gave me her water bottle. indirect kiss. holy shit indirect kiss. i’m never washing my mouth again. what if she thinks that’s gross. no. it’s romantic. it’s fate. i’m insane. lock me up.’ say less blondie.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
you let it drag out for a week.
partly because you wanted to see how far he’d go before combusting, partly because hearing him call you “annoying” out loud while mentally whispering ‘i love you i love you i love you’ was… addictive.
but eventually, even you couldn’t take it anymore.
because tsukishima kei, for all his height and sarcasm, was fragile. and the longer you listened, the clearer it became: he wasn’t just crushing. he was wrecked. consumed. desperately, terrifyingly yours.
and he had no idea what to do with it.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
it happened again after practice. yamaguchi had gone ahead, leaving just you and tsukishima to lock up the gym.
he grumbled the whole time about carrying volleyballs back into the storage room, but inside—
‘this is nice. just us. just her. i could do this forever. does that sound creepy? that sounds creepy. shit. i’d build her a gym if she wanted. i’d build her a whole school. don’t say that out loud. she’ll call the cops.’
when you finally stepped out into the evening air, he lingered at the door, scratching the back of his neck.
“…you’re annoying,” he muttered.
you turned, smiling. “you’ve told me that a hundred times this week.”
‘because if i say anything else i’ll explode. because what i really want to say is marry me. because you make me so stupid i can’t breathe. because i love you more than i love oxygen. oh my god, stop, stop, STOP.’
you crossed your arms, tilting your head. “then maybe it’s time to say something else.”
his brain tripped. ‘she knows. she KNOWS. she’s calling me out. abort. fake a fire alarm. throw yourself in the river. wait, she looks serious. holy shit, she looks serious.’
you stepped closer, close enough to see his ears turning red. “kei.”
he flinched.
‘she said my name. my first name. i’m done. i’m actually done. call the morgue. i’ll walk into the crematorium myself. fuck.’
you smiled softly. “just admit it.”
he froze. “…admit what?”
‘that i’m in love with you. that i’ve been in love with you forever. that i’m obsessed, ruined, deranged. that i want to hold your hand every day until i die. holy god, don’t make me say it. i’ll combust. i’ll—’
“that you like me,” you said.
he blinked. opened his mouth. shut it again. adjusted his glasses with shaking fingers.
“…you’re… irritating.”
you laughed. “and?”
“…and—” he stopped, clenched his fists, stared at the ground like it might swallow him whole.
‘say it. SAY IT. do it. coward. loser. she’s looking at you like you’re the only person on earth. she already knows. just say it. just—’
and finally, finally, out loud:
“i like you.”
he said it like it hurt. like ripping out a tooth. like if he didn’t get it out right now, he’d suffocate.
and inside his brain?
‘oh my god oh my god i said it i said it i SAID IT she’s going to laugh she’s going to reject me i’ll throw myself off the roof she’s smiling holy shit she’s smiling holy FUCK she likes me back i’m saved i’m doomed i’m—’
you reached up, tugged gently at his sleeve, and kissed him. just a quick, soft press of lips.
tsukishima forgot how to function.
‘she kissed me she kissed me she kissed me—’
his hands hovered in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them. then, slowly, like it took every ounce of courage in his body, he cupped your face and kissed you back.
it was clumsy. awkward. a little too much teeth. but it was also sweet. real. desperate.
when you pulled away, he was pink from his neck to his ears.
“…you’re so annoying,” he whispered hoarsely.
‘be mine. forever. please.’
and you laughed, because at least now, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what he meant.
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡
a/n: someone hold me back before i choke my bf to death.
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Your arms are linked around his neck. His big hands glide along your body, trying to grab and feel whatever he could.
His lips and yours meet in a messy kiss. Teeth clashing, saliva exchanging, tongues dancing. His lips were a little chapped but yours were so soft and sweet. Remnants of your flavored chapstick lacing your lips as he kisses it off.
He was so addicted, always chasing back for more. He groans when you move a little to adjust yourself, his hands gripping your hips.
“Shit.” He mumbles.
Then he’s back to it.
Yet with more passion, you’re shuddering under his touch, his kisses, the way his tongue feels against yours.
His glasses were fogged, slightly lopsided. Occasionally he’d push them up but now.
He rips away from you, confusing you. Both of your lips are plump and red, panting. He grabs his glasses, throwing them on the couch.
“Kei be careful you can break them-” He cuts you off with his lips, his tongue finding its home in your mouth once again. You whine in his mouth and he grins.
“They were in the way.” He says against your lips, biting your bottom lip. A moan leaves you and his tongue swipes along the bite to try and soothe it.
“Just focus on this alright?” He says hushed.
His hand coming up behind your neck, pulling you into him as if you guys could get any closer.
summary: Bruce has a tendency to stay up too late working, making his pregnant wife come all the way downstairs to convince him to join her in bed
warnings: sexual innuendos obvi, mentions of scars from whipping, pregnancy symptoms, self-deprecatory thoughts and beliefs, not proofread 😁
Bruce knew he should be in bed.
As soon as he was finished writing up the report from patrol, he should have removed his cowl and costume, turned off his monitors, climbed up the bat-cave steps, and curled up beside you in your Egyptian silk sheets. He could only imagine the heat of your skin against his; the way your body throws itself over his subconsciously.
Yes. He should really be in bed.
But he couldn't drag himself away from work. Not when he had a lead on Dagget's newest offense. If he was lucky, he could trace the fingerprints he'd found left behind on a window-pane, and be one step closer to revealing the truth behind this investigation. Just one more hour...
The elevator shaft behind him began reeling; signaling the arrival of a guest.
You.
Bruce's eyes shifted to the time and he mentally kicked himself. It was past midnight. He mentally kicked himself for the being the cause of another sleepless night for you.
The elevator doors slid open nearly silently and he listened to the soft padding of feet on the cave's floor. Your feet were most likely swelling, again.
"Head back to bed, sweet girl, and I'll join you soon." He murmured, eyes fixed on the analyzing data in front of him.
A hand slid up his bicep to his broad shoulder, thumb massaging the tense muscle there. Bruce groaned.
"Can't sleep without you, Brucey."
It didn't take any effort to peel his gaze from the computer to you.
Bruce hadn't believed in angels until he met you. From the first moment he saw you in that coffee shop, he hadn't been able to think of anything else. And now, with his ring on your finger and the swell of your silk encased stomach from his child, Bruce knew heaven existed. And it was wherever his wife was.
Bruce reached out for you. "Keep me company a while?"
Without further encouragement, you straddled his lap--with some awkwardness thanks to your growing midsection--and laced your fingers behind his neck. You smelled like lavender and vanilla and felt like home.
You pressed your lips to his in reunion. "Missed you."
His fingers dug into the softness of your hips, tongue tracing the seam of your lips. "What did my sweet girl do today?"
"I went to Jason's place with Tim to drop off the rest of his books and then to lunch. Afterwards I took a nap and Alfred was kind enough to wake me up with cookies--and, no, the baby didn't save you any."
"The baby?" he withdrew slightly to take in the tired, mischievous gleam in your eyes. "It would seem the baby has been slighting their father for quite some time now. First with stealing all the blankets and pillows and now with cookies?"
"They're sneaky, like you."
"Apparently, everything's my fault."
"Well," your finger spun the hair at the nape of his neck idly, "when you cheat on your wife with work in the middle of the night, you're automatically blamed."
Bruce trailed kisses along your neck, an apology for keeping you waiting. "You know how I am-"
"Work obsessed and tireless." You shouldered a lock of hair back to give Bruce more skin to work with as you scolded him. He hummed against your pulse, the noise repentant. "I only wish I had as much energy as you. These days, it feels like I wake up and am instantly exhausted."
Before finding out you were pregnant, you had been a dynamo; flitting from one project to another. It wasn't until your second trimester that you began switching luncheons for naps and family nights for early retirement. Bruce and the boys had been extra careful to attend and provide for your wants and needs, from stocking up the ingredients for your cravings to keeping an anti-acid in all of their wallets for your chronic heartburn.
Bruce knew you missed your previous lifestyle, something he had come to guilt himself for cutting short, but you knew him better than anyone else and that meant you were able to smother his fears and regret with reassurances. There was nothing more important you could be doing than growing a piece of him and you, you took as your newest mantra whenever you found him stuck in his own head.
You had been his savior in many ways but he always found himself in awe at the thought that you wanted to build a future, a life, with him. You loved his Robins as your own, treated Alfred as an old friend, and--most importantly--showed up for Bruce in his darkest moments.
"Don't tell me you're still thinking about work."
Your soothing voice brought him back from his thoughts.
He looked up at you, mad at himself for bringing that melancholy frown to your lips. Before you, he might have brushed off your worry and ordered you back to bed to leave him be but you had taught him better.
His palms spanned across your abdomen, scarred fingers kneading the firm skin there. The nightgown you wore tonight fit you like a glove, showcasing every proud curve and giving Bruce the pleasure of seeing what was his.
"I was thinking," he pulled you to him until your fronts were flush as much as they could be, "that you're too good for me."
As he expected, your eyes rolled heavenward in exasperation. "Should I tattoo it over your heart, Bruce Thomas Wayne? I. Love. You."
"And I love you-"
Your finger pinned his lips closed as you glared at him. "I love you and I don't want you saying things like that anymore. If I hear another self-deprecating word from this mouth, I will revoke privileges."
His brow rose in curiosity.
"I will reinstate the pregnancy pillow." You decided.
That had Bruce's eyes widening. He spoke around your finger, "Don't be so hasty, baby!"
"Then stop it." You snapped.
Any other person would have seen the wrath of the Dark Knight if they'd dared speak to him like that. Found themselves dangling from the cave ceiling or knocked on their ass. But he just looked at you with desire. The same thing that had Damian grumbling under his breath at dinner or Dick teasing about a houseful of little Wayne's.
He couldn't stop himself as he kissed you, easily man-handling your body to meld to his preferences.
As he suspected, your limbs went lax as you returned his affection, a moan building in your throat when his hand cupped your throat, moving your head this way and that in guidance.
You might be able to yell at and scold him but Bruce always took back control.
Your fingertips glided over his naked back, feeling the raised scars there from his time as an apprentice of Ra's Al Ghul. Every scar he had, you had kissed dozens of times. He never felt ashamed to bare himself in front of you the way he did when he laid with his past dates. You made him feel whole despite all of his loss and grief.
"You're not bringing that damned pillow back." He growled against your mouth, hips shifting beneath you to support his decision.
You gasped, sensitive from pregnancy.
"Tell me you won't bring it back." He ordered, hips raising again.
"I-I won't!"
He smiled darkly, fingers playing with the hem of your nightgown to push it further up your smooth thighs. You had made him shave your legs this morning as you couldn't reach them without a struggle.
"You wouldn't even be able to find it. I burned it to embers the first night you insulted me with it."
You chuckled breathily. "Good thing I have my billionaire husband's credit card at my disposal. I can buy the entire company and then some."
Bruce nipped at your collarbone. "I hope you weren't planning on getting any rest tonight. Our bed won't be used for sleeping after your impertinence."
"I didn't tell you why I wanted you to come to bed."
author's note: i can feel the words flowing from me 🌊 call me aquaman
IMPORTANT: PLEASE, DONT MIND THE "TIME LINE" THE STORIES HAVE OK? I SUCK AT THIS...
I try to make daily updates at 2pm, 4pm, or 6pm.
last update: today! 13/11/25. | How many updates: 3 (TSUKISHIMA, KENMA AND USHIJIMA)
NEKOMA 2 / 6
౨ Kozume Kenma !
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy
pt. 4 noticing the bump
pt. 5 Doubts
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick
pt. 7 gender reveal
pt. 8 mood swings
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations
pt. 11 The Final Weeks
pt. 12 The Birth
pt. 13 Baby's first week
pt. 14 Life After Birth
pt. 15 Growing Pains
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (NEW)
౨ Tetsuro Kuroo ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (NEW)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Morisuke Yaku ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Taketora Yamamoto ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Shohei Fukunaga ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Lev Haiba ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
KARASUNO 7 / 11
౨ Tsukishima kei !
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy
pt. 4 noticing the bump
pt. 5 Doubts NEW!!!!!!
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick
pt. 7 gender reveal
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ yamaguchi tadashi
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Tobio Kageyama !
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Hinata Shoyo !
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Yachi Hitoka ! (male reader)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Yu Nishinoya ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news(W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Ryunosuke Tanaka ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news(W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Daichi Sawamura ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news(W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Kiyoko Shimizu ! (male reader)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Sugawara Koushi !
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Asahi Azumane ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news(W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
Inarizaki 4 / 4
౨ Suna Rintaro!
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Shinsuke Kita ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Atsumu Miya ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Osamu Miya ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
Shiratorizawa 3 / 6
౨ Wakatoshi Ushijima (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family NEW!!!
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Satori Tendo ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Kenjiro Shirabu ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Tsuromu Goshiki !
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Eita Semi ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Taichi Kawanishi ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
Aoba Johsai High 1 / 6
౨ Toru Oikawa ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Hajime Iwaizumi ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Takahiro Hanamaki ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Issei Matsukawa ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Akira Kunimi ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Kentaro Kyotani ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
Fukurodani 0 / 4
౨ Bokuto Kotaro ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Keiji Akaashi ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Akinori Konoha ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Sarukui Yamato ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
Itachiyama 0/2
౨ Kiyoomi Sakusa ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Motoya Komori ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
Kamomedai High 0/2
౨ Korai Hoshuimu ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
౨ Sachiro Hirugami ! (W.I.P)
pt.1 Breaking the news (W.I.P)
pt. 2 Friends and Family (W.I.P)
pt. 3 daily life during pregnancy (W.I.P)
pt. 4 noticing the bump (W.I.P)
pt. 5 Doubts (W.I.P)
pt. 6 feeling the baby kick (W.I.P)
pt. 7 gender reveal (W.I.P)
pt. 8 mood swings (W.I.P)
pt. 9 Judgment and Stigma (W.I.P)
pt. 10 Baby Shower and Celebrations: (W.I.P)
pt. 11 The Final Weeks (W.I.P)
pt. 12 The Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 13 Baby's first week (W.I.P)
pt. 14 Life After Birth (W.I.P)
pt. 15 Growing Pains (W.I.P)
pt. 16 A Glimpse into the Future (post! timeskip) (W.I.P)
Warnings. MDNI. NSFW🔞, mature content, voyeurism, exhibitionism, unprotected sxx, FREAKED OUT Satoru and Suguru
“This is my girlfriend,” Satoru introduces you and your name to Suguru, rubbing his large palm into the side of your waist affectionately.
A look of shock overthrows Suguru’s expression. But it morphs back into soft coolness quick enough that you almost doubt you saw it right.
“Hi, it’s so nice to meet one of Satoru’s friends.” You smile at Suguru, jutting out your hand.
Suguru shakes your hand politely and a soft smile climbs on his lips as his gaze flicks down your body and then up to Satoru before landing back on you.
“Ah, I wouldn’t say friend,” Suguru huffs playfully, “Haven’t seen him since college.”
“Work is busy,” Satoru shrugs, raising his arm to wrap around your shoulders. His arm weight pulls you down a bit but you don’t mind.
“So, how long have you been together?”
“Um— about a year.” You smile and nod at him. Satoru hums happily before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Suguru can tell you’re a shy, sweet little thing, putting a weak hand to Satoru’s chest and resisting futilely as he peppers your face with kisses in front of all of these people.
“Yo, Gojo!”
Satoru is suddenly pulled away by one of his old friends to compete and see how many shots they can take back to back, and since he hasn’t seen these people in a bit, you smile and push him to go have fun.
You’re left with Suguru. You sip your drink and shift your stance a bit as he subtly takes in your overall appearance.
You clear your throat. “So, did Satoru date around a lot back in college? I wouldn’t be surprised.” You’re jesting, cutely, trying to break the ice and the nervous tension between you and Satoru’s friend.
Suguru chuckles. “Ahh, not really.”
You eye him from over your cup as you take a drink. “Is that why you seemed so surprised that he’s with me?” It’s said in a lighthearted tone but you’re clearly curious.
“Oh, I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.” Suguru is being nothing but genuine and you can tell.
“But.. ?” You’re leading him into the rest of what he isn’t saying.
“There’s no but,” Suguru denies softly and then shrugs, “You’re just not the type I was expecting.”
You’re clearly offended, a bit hurt right off the bat and Suguru can immediately see that.
“Oh god, no, no,” Suguru quickly backtracks with a sympathetic look, “I didn’t mean that you aren’t attractive, you are. In fact, you’re more my type than what I expected his to be.”
You blink at him owlishly and brush your hair behind your ear. “Oh. What kind of girl was Satoru into during college?” You chuckle, airily, but you can’t fool him or yourself. You’re invested.
Suguru huffs into his drink, a jump to his brows as if you’ve said something ironic.
“The type with balls.”
Your eyes widen and you’re almost in disbelief of what he’s claiming. “You— oh. You’re saying Satoru was with men?”
He nods and watches you with slight amusement. Satoru must have kept this from you for some reason.
You blink down at the ground, a slight pang of jealousy slides through your chest. Satoru never mentioned this. You were under the impression that he had told you every past partner and relationship he’s had, like you’ve told him. It’s not a good feeling to feel as though this man you’ve never met before knows more about your boyfriend than you do.
“Ah— I’m sorry,” Suguru says, clearly feeling bad that he said anything at all since it seems you’re feeling hurt, “I really didn’t mean to bother you or mess with your relationship—”
You brush off his concerns and interrupt him. “No, no. It’s okay. Um—” you clear your throat, “like a lot of men?”
Bless your heart, Suguru can tell why Satoru is enthralled by you. You’re a sweet thing, clearly committed to the guy, even when he has obviously been keeping things from you.
Suguru grimaces a bit, not because of you, but because of what he’s about to say.
“I,” he laughs and scratches the back of his head, “I think I’m the only one. I could be wrong.”
Your jaw just drops but before you can ask the millions of questions you are itching to ask Satoru’s apparent ex something, intoxicated Satoru comes bursting back with a wide smile, shoving a shot into your hands while he slams his lips into yours.
“Hey baby, take this shot,” he preens into your lips, “You need to catch up.”
You chuckle awkwardly and take down the shot with a sweet smile for your boyfriend who has no idea you’ve been told that he’s been keeping something from you.
The next day. 4:07pm.
You’re pouting. Satoru can tell something is wrong. You’ve been giving him that sad cat look since this morning that screams, ‘my owner hit me and I can’t decide whether I’m mad or sad.’
“You wanna get take out? That mochi place is open,” Satoru offers, rolling on his side to grab at you and pull you into his arms to spoon.
The book you’re reading doesn’t leave the space right in front of your face as he cuddles your backside.
You shrug and hum briefly, as if you don’t care.
Satoru wraps his arms deeply around your middle, squeezes, and shoves his face into the side of yours while his brows furrow. “And then we can make love all night with a belly full of mochi, hmm?”
You don’t even spare a glance. Another shrug. Now he knows for sure, something happened.
His head raises and he looks down at you. “Hey, c’mon, what’s going on?”
You mumble incoherently but he can make out that you’ve said, ‘nothing.’
“Did I go too hard last night? Did I do something?” He asks with concern, thumbs rubbing into the skin of your sides where he’s wrapped around your midsection. He has blips of blanks in his memory from last night, mixing alcohol is never a good idea.
You exhale a puff of air and drop your book down, a small pout permanently taking home on your face.
“Suguru was nice,” you mumble as your eyes stare forward at nothing in particular.
You’re speaking in riddles, not a good sign. He squints and maneuvers your body so you’re on your back and he’s leaning on his forearm beside you so he can eye you properly.
“Suguru? Did he hit on you?”
You cross your arms stubbornly. “He did say I was his type.”
Satoru’s face turns into a look of discontent. “I knew he’d try something on you. I’m sorry, baby. Did he make you uncomfortable?”
You basically ignore his words, watching him suspiciously. “Matter of fact, he said I’m more his type than I am yours.”
He looks taken aback and confused. “He’s just being stupid, trying to see if he can get with you.” He pauses and blinks at your expression and overall aura. “Wait— Are you mad at me, right now?
“I don’t know, am I?”
“Baby,” Satoru grabs onto the side of your head to hold your attention, “Talk to me.”
You sigh and sit up, criss crossed. He slowly meets you there, sitting across from you, carefully.
“Did you and Suguru used to date?”
Satoru’s brows jolt up and he blinks in genuine surprise.
“Me and Suguru? No, are you serious? That’s what he told you?” He huffs in disbelief.
“Okay, then, you guys used to fuck? In college?”
Satoru blinks for a beat with his lips parted. “I— Okay, yeah, yes. But we never dated, that’s ridiculous.”
Your face explodes into disbelief and you abruptly stand up, pushing his hand away when he tried to grab at you.
“Oh my god, I knew it. Why did you keep that from me?” You’re clearly upset and Satoru moves his way to the edge of the bed on his knees to face you as you stand.
“Keep it from y— Wait, wait that’s a bit of an exaggeration—”
You shake your head and start pacing, ignoring him.
“Do you know how stupid I felt? Asking your ex— or fuck buddy or— whatever— about you? About my own boyfriend? Things that I should already know after a whole year of dating?”
Satoru cringes in sympathy. “Fuck, I didn’t think—”
“No, you didnt,” you confirm, interrupting him. Your steps come to a stop in front of him. “I mean, god! You introduced me and let me talk to him all nice and polite like he hasn’t fucked my boyfriend!”
“What, you would’ve treated him differently if you knew?” He huffs, unable to hold back some amusement, despite knowing he’s done something wrong.
You shoot him a deep glare. “Yes! I would have— I don’t know— asserted dominance or something— grabbed your dick— I don’t know!”
Satoru lets a self indulgent smirk sneak out and you poke his chest with a mean, stern look. “Hey! Stop enjoying this so much.”
He immediately grabs onto your hand and lays it flat on his naked chest like he’s trying to keep you close and with him. “I’m not, I’m not!— I just— you can’t blame me for thinking it’s sexy when you get all jealous,” he purrs towards the end, leaning in and snaking a kiss to your jaw. You grumble and almost flinch away from it but then he lays an open mouthed, slow, warm kiss lower down, on your neck, and you melt.
He hums, feeling your body relax into him, and that’s what jolts you out of the haze. You pull away and point at him with squinted eyes. “No. You’re not allowed to do that. I’m actually hurt, Satoru.”
A pleading look grows on his face and he stands quickly to get close to you. “Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry, baby. I should have told you. It slipped my mind, genuinely. What can I do to make it better?”
You humpf as you cross your arms, pouting as he softly brushes some hair from your face.
“Hmm?” He goads on, tilting his head down to eye your pretty face. “What can this horrible, mean boyfriend do to make it up to his sexy, amazing girlfriend?”
“Were you on top or bottom?”
Satoru pauses, thinking he has to have heard you wrong because you kind of mumbled it quietly.
“What?”
You look up at him. “Did you fuck him or did he fuck you?”
Satoru’s jaw drops, shocked by your question as you move to sit on the edge of the bed behind him, waiting.
He turns slowly to face you, this has to be a trap. “Why do you want to know that, baby? That’s just gonna upset you.”
You ‘Aha!’ like he’s been caught. “I knew it! You’re hiding this from me deliberately!”
“What? No,” he immediately shakes his head, hands moving quickly as to dispel what you’ve said, “A question like that is— I wouldn’t want to know all the ways you’ve fucked Toji in the past, it would upset me! I just don’t want to upset you.”
“Ohh, now you’re bringing up Toji.” You cross your arms. Toji was a bit of an issue for your relationship at the beginning. You used to date, and let’s just say Toji has a bad habit of fucking with people— they used to get into fist fights despite being friends. Honestly, Toji was usually asking for it: smacking your ass casually when you’d hug in greetings, a hand rubbing your thigh a little too far up when you’d laugh in conversation, etc. all with the excuse that he was just so used to doing it when you were dating that he forgets not to.
Satoru shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
You sigh. “I want to know, Satoru. If you’re not trying to keep things from me, then tell me.”
Satoru rubs his eyes and then runs a hand through his hair. He has a feeling this isn’t going to be resolved by tonight. “I have nothing to hide, okay? I was on bottom, I guess.”
You hum and nod, like you know something he doesn’t and you just caught him.
“So he used to fuck you in the ass?”
Satoru’s growing more and more confused. “So what? Does it upset you that I was with a dude?”
Your jaw drops and you stand, a hurt pinch to your brows. “Of fucking course not, Satoru.”
“Then, what? I get that it was fucked to let you talk to Suguru without knowing. But, you’re mad because I happened not to tell you one person I’ve had sex with?”
“It just makes me feel like,” you exhale, avoiding his gaze, “you didn’t tell me because I can’t give you what he could.”
Satoru’s face expands in shock. He grabs onto your face with both hands and holds it up to look you in the eye. “What do you mean, baby? I fucking love you, you give me everything I could ever want.”
“I can’t give you dick,” you mumble.
“That’s,” he hesitates, searching your face, “That’s what’s bothering you? You think I kept it from you on purpose because I didn’t want you to feel bad for not having a penis?”
The corners of your lips and the pinch in your brows deepens within your pout.
“Oh baby,” he coos deeply, pulling you in to hold you close, unable to let out an airy laugh.
You whine, “Stop laughing at me, Toru!”
He squeezes you harder with a grin and you grumble into his chest.
He exhales, deeply and in content, having you in his arms. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve never once wished you had a dick and balls. I would have told you about Suguru, I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I’m sorry I made you feel stupid when he told you.”
You mumble something into him and he hums in question, not hearing you.
You pull back to look up at him as he continues to hold you into his front.
“I said,” you sniffle, eyes gleaming widely, “But I heard guys have their g-spot in their ass. So, that means I’ve never made you feel as good as he can or did.”
Satoru shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous, I’ve never had better sex than with you. C’mon, let’s order food and lay back down.”
Your pout stubbornly gets deeper, like he’s lying to you to protect your feelings.
“Up we go.” He decides for you, picking your body up easily and softly tossing you onto the bed before climbing in behind you.
“Come here baby.” He’s holding you the same way he was before, arms around your tummy. He creeps his hand up your shirt and the second it brushes your breast, you shake your head and nudge it away.
“No, I don’t have the right parts. I just have a stupid hole.”
Satoru whines in frustration, sliding his arms up until he’s holding you just under the swell of your tits so he’s not crossing the line but still able to touch you.
“But I love that hole,” he chirps woefully into your ear, sliding his right hand down to curl inward until it covers your clothed pussy entirely. “My favorite hole.” You can hear a deep frown on his lips.
“This hole is closed for business forever and ever.”
Chills race down Satoru’s spine. “You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe I do,” you shrug, but you’re not making any move to take his cold hand away from your cunt. “Maybe you should call Suguru.”
“Oh baby, please. This is ridiculous.” He groans into your neck, hard cock pressing into the lower part of your asscheek.
You suddenly turn to face him, forcing his hands to retreat so you can comfortably turn.
You look up at him. “Is that what you want? For me to buy a strap?”
He sighs. “Not really,” he mumbles.
“Oh okay. So, just him. Fine.” You’re about to turn your back to him again but he doesn’t let you, grabbing a strong hold of your sides.
“Listen to me.” He looks into your eyes, intensely. “When I push inside of your sweet little pussy, I feel a level of pleasure that exceeds reality. I love fucking your beautiful cunt, made just for me to push into. Do you understand me? I want to dominate your insides over and over and over until you forget what it feels like to be empty— all day, everyday. I don’t need you inside me. I want to fucking live inside you.”
You blink at him owlishly and dumbly chirp out, “Oh.”
“I don’t want you to— you don’t need to buy a fake cock because you think I need it to feel satisfied. If anything, I should buy you a fake fucking cock with how much you wear mine out.” He huffs, rubbing his nose into yours affectionately. “Okay?”
You exhale deeply, body relaxing into his. “Okay.”
He brushes his fingertips down your tummy until he slides his whole hand between your thighs, once again claiming your entire clothed pussy to his palm and long fingers.
“My sweet girl,” he coos as his other hand reaches over you and takes a handful of your asscheek. “My horny, horny girl. You wanna satisfy me so bad, huh?”
You grumble a little, soft hands pushing into his chest futilely as he chuckles.
Satoru hums some random tune soothingly as he kneads your back and ass for a long while, keeping the other hand snug against his favorite hole.
A week later. 10:35pm.
Seeing Suguru again wasn’t on your radar, but here he is, at some a party most of your own friends are at.
You and Satoru enter the party together and walk up to some of your friends crowded in the kitchen around a cooler full of an assortment of canned alcohol and ice.
You hug some of them in hello, starting with Shoko and ending with Toji. Satoru greets everyone with a loud, playful, drawn out, “Hello party people!” before wrapping his arm around cheery Haibara.
You lean down and grab some random fizzy drink from the cooler as everyone greets Satoru in their own unique ways.
“Hey again,” Suguru’s familiarly soft voice greets you with a smile as you stand back up.
“Oh, hey.” You pop open your can. You’re not upset with Suguru, it’s not his fault Satoru left a few bits of information out. Suguru didn’t mean any harm, you know that. He still fucked your boyfriend, though.
He gestures for you to come stand by him so you can chat. You smile and nod before stepping over. Satoru pats your ass sweetly as you leave, not taking his attention off of his idiotic conversation with Nanami, bothering and teasing him like he loves to do.
Suguru nods at your drink. “You like that fizzy sweet shit like him, huh?”
You turn the can to eye the name of it and shrug. “It does the job. How about you? You one of those -dry whiskey with no straw- types?”
He hums a soft laugh with a smile. “Like you said, whatever does the job. But no, not always. I dabble.”
You take a swig of your drink. “I respect that.”
“Hey,” he begins with a sympathetic scratch to the back of his head, “I really hope I didn’t mess things up for you after that conversation we had.”
You chuckle and glance over at Satoru with a loving, affectionate look, watching as Nanami holds him in a headlock that you have no doubt he could get out of if he really wanted to. “No, no. Don’t worry about it, we’re good.”
Suguru hums with a smile on his lips, glad you’re not upset with him for telling you something he figured you’d know.
You turn towards him with a playful smile on your lips. “Anything else you wanna tell me about you and Satoru before the night goes on, though?” you joke, making Suguru throw his head back and laugh.
He comes back down to earth and takes a step towards you, leaning his hip against the counter casually as he eyes your face with a tilt of a smile.
“You’re sexy,” he all but coos down at you, voice soft and deep.
Your brows raise and you huff. “Are you hitting on me right now?” While your boyfriend, who he used to fuck in the ass, is standing a few feet away?
He shrugs and swigs his drink. “I see why Satoru is into you.” An answer that isn’t an answer at all.
“And why is he into me?” You entertain his sillies with amusement.
He exhales deeply, in thought. “Sweet, compassionate, caring, beautiful, loving, funny, a good listener, knows how to cook a warm meal. Am I close?”
He’s playing with you, naming all of the generic compliments one could find on a hallmark card. He doesn’t know you well enough to actually answer, but he knows that he likes to make you laugh. You can’t help but do just that, shaking your head in amusement, and fidgeting with the lip of your can with the same hand that holds it.
“Oh, you’re right on the money. You know me so well,” you say with playful surprise.
He huffs out a few laughs and tilts his drink in dismissal. He licks his lips of the wetness of his beverage.
“So, he mad at me for telling you about our dorm life?”
You inhale and exhale an airy laugh. “He might be.”
“Ohh,” he hums drawn out, amused, but still as soft toned as ever. His brow quirks down at you, “So, you were upset.”
You look away and take a drink with a soft scoff. He wormed that insinuated information right out of you.
He continues, despite your silence. “Because your boyfriend was with a guy?”
You roll your eyes, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “No.”
He hums, head rocking back. “Then..?”
“You should go ask your old dorm mate if you really wanna know,” you land on, like you’d be interested in seeing how that would go.
He hums in contemplation, casually glancing at Satoru. “I’m betting that wouldn’t end well for me.”
You shrug, casually. “Never know until you try.”
“Eh,” he brushes it off, “Why would I do that when my new friend is so fun to talk to?” He might as well have said ‘fun to play with’ instead.
“Oh, friends, huh?” You tilt your head.
“Oh come on,” he smiles back down at you, looming over you a bit so you can smell his nice scent, “We have so much in common. We both like drinking, we’ve fucked the same person, we’re both wearing black clothing, I think you’re sexy, you think I’m sexy— we’re best friends already.”
You make a little expression of surprise, laughing.
“I think you’re sexy? Oh I didn’t know that.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that, my bad. Yeah, you think I’m sexy.” He speaks definitively, clinking his drink into yours in a soft cheers.
You hum dramatically, continuing to go along with whatever he throws out. “Right. Must have slipped my mind.”
He prods once again. “So, new friend, what was it that bothered you about the fact that I’ve had sex with your boyfriend?”
You let out a deep exhale as a thunderbolt of jealousy shoots through your chest, ignoring that wildly observant gaze he’s had locked on you since you came into view.
“Well, how big is your dick?”
Suguru almost chokes on his own spit, not expecting such blunt words. “Oh?” He laughs, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
You’re relaxed as you face the others, watching Nanami’s forehead vein bulge while he grabs hold of Satoru’s collar. Haibara’s laughing and trying to calm him down, though Satoru looks content where he’s at.
“You could go ask Satoru.” Suguru smiles with utmost entertainment, close enough to your side that your arm is brushing his abdomen. He reaches to brush some hair behind your ear and then trails his fingertips down the edge of your ear briefly. “I’m sure he remembers, if you really wanna know, pretty girl.”
Suguru is fucking with you, you’re not stupid. But you think he’s likely doing it for shits and giggles, like he’s testing if you can handle some teasing or if you’ll actually get upset. He might actually be into you too, maybe seeing if you’d fuck him as well, and then he could confidently say he’s been with both you and Satoru.
You take a deep breath and take your eyes off of your friends to face his anticipation.
“Why would I do that when my new friend is so fun to talk to?” You use his own words, making Suguru’s soft smile grow.
“Besides, you know Satoru,” you lean towards him on the tips of your toes and he slouches to meet you halfway, waiting for you to speak into his ear. “His memory is all messed up. He can just never seem to remember not to cum inside me before we go out to a party with all of our friends.”
You can almost hear Suguru’s eyes flicker in surprise.
Suguru exhales slowly as you lean away. You watch him stand up straight as his tongue swipes against his lips. He adjusts his crotch area. “He does have a horrible memory, doesn’t he?”
He’s pleased with your response, clearly, as his eyes flick down to the in between of your legs where you have no doubt, he’s imagining the cum pooling in your panties.
You aren’t sure if you won that conversation or if it was even a competition in the first place. You gesture to the side. “I’ll see you later,” you say politely and he nods with a smile that’s anything but appropriate.
You make your way over to Satoru, Nanami, and Haibara and you can still feel Suguru’s eyes.
“Hey, baby.” Satoru notices your approach immediately, slithering his hand lightly onto your ass like it’s muscle memory.
“You guys mind if I steal him?” You ask a very fed-up Nanami and an energetic Haibara.
“No, we do not.” Nanami confirms deeply, adjusting his glasses with a permanent glare.
Haibara swings his arm to rest on Nanami’s shoulder and gives you a thumbs up. “Go for it!”
You’re already yanking Satoru’s wrist to follow you as you walk. He should be stumbling over those long legs since you’re moving so fast but he’s still keeping up.
“Where are we going?” Genuine curiosity laced with that natural playful air of his.
You don’t answer as you lead the two of you through sweaty, drunk people.
He dramatically puts on a show of stumbling to a stop when you let go of his wrist in some empty hallway upstairs. “Jeez, what’s—”
He ‘hmph’s when you suddenly push him up against the wall— more like when he allowed you to— and you start fumbling with his belt.
“Why do you wear these stupid belts? They’re made out of fucking steel.”
“What’d he say, baby?” His eyes are on your concentrated face while your frantic hands are at work.
You already know who he’s talking about. “He didn’t say anything.” You unlock his belt.
He tilts his head down to eye you better while he tilts your face up. “He bother you again?”
You exhale, looking up into his beautiful eyes and blindly unzipping his pants. “Honestly, I can’t tell if he wants to fuck me or fight me.”
Satoru huffs at your words as you focus back onto his crotch, popping his button open to reveal his pink heart littered boxers. He’s not surprised Suguru is toying with you.
“This is just how he is, he can probably tell he’s getting a reaction out of you.” He caresses the side of your face sweetly as you shove your hand into his boxers. “Want me to do something?”
You shake your head in brief denial as you pull his cock out.
“Want to fuck,” you mumble with most of your focus on jerking his dick to full mast while you maneuver your leg up so your knee and calf is pressing into the wall beside his hip.
“Right here?” he coos with amusement, though he’s actually not even slightly worried getting caught. His large palm aids in holding your leg up without you having to ask. “Didn’t I just fill this hole up? She’s gonna get overwhelmed, baby.”
You give him a scornful pout, pausing. “You don’t want to be inside me?”
He can immediately tell what you’re worried about. You just spoke to Suguru, who has a dick that used to be used on him, and Satoru knows the idea of not having a dick now bothers you. It’s ridiculous, really, but he knows it’s coming from a place of yearning to please him so he leans into you.
“Fuck to the yes I do. If I ever say no to that, shoot me in the head. You hear me?” When your expression gives into a hint of acceptance, he licks the side of your face like a cat and then kisses it. “Gimme that pussy baby,” he mumbles into your skin in a purposefully demanding, playful tone.
The second those words leave his lips, your movements grow desperate and fast again.
You yank your panties to the side and all but shove him into your creamy pussy. He wasn’t even sure this position was possible, it can’t be comfortable for you; not to mention, no foreplay, but you seem to be more than okay with it. His sweet girl is on a mission and he’s more than happy to be collateral.
He groans, head falling back onto the wall with a ‘thunk.’ “Oh man. You’re so slimy.” His previous load surrounds his throbbing cock, your walls are just drenched in it.
You’re breathing sharply as your head spins in your own little world, drunk on the odd interaction with Suguru and your jealous desire to be everything Satoru needs. You somehow start humping his cock to the best of your ability in such a position while your legs shake.
“Fuck,” he groans at the squelch, softly meeting your sloppy thrusts halfway with his hips. His free hand grabs onto the back of your skull and lowers it down till the top of your heads are touching, forcing the both of you to watch your sloppy connection move in and out. “Look at thaaat.”
You whimper as your lips stick to his skin every time his cock fully mounts you and then breaks away with a string of slick and cum each time it withdraws.
“He said,” you pause to take choppy breaths, moving your head up to search for eye contact, “you remember how big his dick is.”
Satoru rolls his eyes but it quickly transforms into an eye roll of ultimate pleasure when your pace quickens with your growing jealousy.
“He— oh fuck— he’s just trying to,” his voice breaks into a moan, hips stuttering, “get under your skin, baby.”
“How big is it?” you persist passionately, slamming your hips down as hard as they can go, resisting your own muscles screaming at you to change positions.
Satoru sputters with parted lips and whited out eyes, hands spasming in utter euphoria that just won’t allow him the ability focus on your important questions.
“Fine,” you stutter, pausing to drop your forehead onto his shoulder to moan, “I’ll just find out for myself.”
Satoru’s eyes snap open. The next thing you know, he’s walking you backward while fucking you the entire way over until your back is slamming against the opposite wall. It’s an utterly awkward stumbling, hopping on one leg situation, but Satoru basically carries you the whole way anyways.
You gasp as your back collides with the wall, urgently grabbing onto his broad shoulders for balance. “Oh fuck! Satoru— wait—”
He shakes his head frantically, hips snapping into yours at an electric pace that’s making the picture frames on the wall desperately hold onto their hinges as they rock aggressively. “You want to ‘find out about his cock?’ Hm? And how are you gonna do that?”
You whine as he playfully and yet aggressively, spat the words into your open mouth, harshly recycling sharp breaths with you between words. “I’m not— I don’t know—”
“Yeah,” he breathes in a cocky tone, interrupting you. You squeal when he slams his entire body weight into a thrust, basically hammering you into the wall behind you, “You don’t know. Your sweet little pussy is not going any where near his cock. Do you understand me?”
You nod eagerly, drooling down your chin as he makes harsh, possessive love to you.
“That’s my good girl,” he purrs into yours neck, nodding at your skin before slurping it into his mouth to suck on, meanly.
But then, you’re slipping, legs finally giving out, and Satoru is letting you— in fact he’s going down with you. He just can’t afford to slip out of your cunt, so his one track mind just fucks you all the way down until you’re in deep missionary on the cold, hard floor. You hiss and your back arches at the discomfort of it.
“Don’t tell me to pull out,” he pleads, roughly, shoving your legs down to your chest so he can lean over you and get a deeper angle. “Please, I can’t stop.”
You shake your head and whimper loudly, grabbing onto his frantic hips with shaky hands, feeling his muscles contract and tremble. “Don’t stop, it’s okay— mmfh!— get yourself off.”
He groans loudly and shoves his tongue into your mouth while he takes hold of your skull, large palms encasing it possessively. “Ohh you want that, don’t you? Naughty girl. You know how much I love you and this pussy? I’m about to show you just how much.”
Your hand extends and slams down onto the floorboards, nails digging into the wood, creating marks as you cope with his heavy hips punching into your insides over and over and over. You’re starting to forget why you took his cock out in the first place.
He’s close, you can tell by the way his legs gradually spread out and how he drops a bit too much body weight onto you to get deeper, stretching out the muscles running along the back of your thighs, painfully.
“Ah-ah-ah— shit! Gonna fucking breed all of my load— love into you.”
And then he’s doing just that, chopped up exhales fanning directly into your mouth that sound like an old man finally feeling the relief of taking a piss in the middle of the night. He slobbers all over your face as he cums, smearing his drooling lips against your skin deliberately and you just lay there, whining and basking in it, cunt twisting around the pulsing, invading shaft.
Satoru groans loudly into your ear as he comes down, grinding his hips into yours like he’s churning butter for good measure, making you gasp and groan out a sound full of submissive coping.
“You didn’t cum,” he voices in a relaxed slur, moving up on his forearms beside your head so he can look at your face. You shake your head and bring your hands up to caress his cheeks.
“People might come,” you say shyly, glancing up to look at the exit of the upside down hallway behind you.
“Ha!” he shouts dramatically right into your face, “that’s funny, really. Like I’d fuck your gushy pussy and then just leave you all needy and horny.”
He suddenly pops his cock out of your sensitive, crying, stuffed-full cunt and you both hiss. He quickly crawls his way down to shove his face between your legs.
You jut your chin down to your chest shyly and he shakes his head with an amused chuckle, breath fanning your throbbing clit.
“No way you’re getting all shy now. If someone walks by, it’s on you my little exhibitionist.” Before you can respond, he’s opening his mouth wide with his wide tongue stuck out and obnoxiously encases your pussy within it. He’s not afraid to look ‘ugly’ to give you the stimulation needed to blow your mind.
Your fingers curl into his soft white hair and you moan pathetically as he sloppily makes out with your leaky, nicely bred, sore core. You might be hallucinating, but was that footsteps?
You anxiously glance back at the exit. “B-Baby— I think someone’s coming. Maybe we— ngh!— should go to a room or something.” You tap his head anxiously.
“Yeah, someone is cumming,” he murmurs quickly into your cunt, “you.”
You groan and yank his hair, knowing you’re unable to successfully pull him off even if you wanted to. Satoru has always been firm on the idea: you don’t interrupt a man eating a nice, warm meal. You just don’t.
It’s not long before an orgasm approaches, I mean, obviously. He’s focusing beautifully on the edges of your clit where he knows it’s not too sensitive and actually allows ecstasy to form. Let’s not forget, the adrenaline and pressure to ‘hurry up’ and get an orgasm in before the time is up and someone catches you only hurdles you closer.
Satoru purrs aloud as he eats, always has. It sounds like a cat that’s biting ridiculously large mouthfuls of their food possessively while they warn potential predators around that this is theirs and only theirs. It’s ridiculous and it makes your toes curl and your legs shake.
“I’m so close, don’t— don’t stop.” Your plea makes Satoru’s brows twitch in satisfaction as he works your clit, hands kneading your soft inner thighs.
You nervously glance back at the exit to the hallway and let out a blood curdling gasp when you see none other than Suguru Geto leaning against the wall, watching the scene like it’s some television show as he sips his drink. You’re about to scramble, snap your legs together, and hide yourself, shout, do something, because the delicious idea of getting caught is never as alluring as the brutal reality— but then, Satoru worms two fingers inside to assault your g-spot way past speed limit without changing a thing about the pace he’s licking your clit at, and you just fucking burst with a pathetically drawn out, choppy moan. Your eyes roll and your back arches completely off of the hard floor, it feels as though you had no choice but to fall off the steep cliff and that only makes it more intense.
Oh, bless your heart. Suguru huffs an airy laugh as you spasm, ignoring the incessant throb in his painfully hard cock.
As you finally come down, you blink your bleary eyes at the exit, focusing on it until you can see clearly. You lazily smack at Satoru’s head. “Satoru— get off— someone is—”
Your vision clears and Suguru’s not there anymore, no where to be seen. Satoru lifts his head and licks his lips obnoxiously, climbing up over you and looking over at the area you’re focused on. He laughs and leans in to the side of your face. “I made you cum so hard you’re seeing shit.”
“Wha—What? No, he was— he was right there.” Your brows knit, eyes locked on the exit as Satoru hums noncommittally and peppers kisses onto your neck.
Later, re-joining the party after you cleaned up (Satoru licked your panties and then slid them onto your sore pussy with a pat and a direct order to ‘hold in all of his babies’), you can’t help but steal peeks at Suguru who’s acting completely normal. Satoru’s ego is too large to entertain your claim because apparently his ‘magical tongue’ isn’t called magical for nothing and you fear it would actually crush his big heart if you persisted that it wasn’t actually the orgasm he gave you that made you see Suguru.
Satoru scoops his arms around your body, holding you close. “You okay?”
You nod and exhale deeply, letting your arms wrap loosely around his neck. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not still worried that I want dick in my ass, are you?”
You can’t help but laugh, making Satoru smile, having accomplished his mission to put some warmth on your distant face.
You give him a nice, sweet peck. “No, I can still feel your ‘love’ dripping out of me.” You nuzzle his nose with yours and he chuckles, squeezing your ass affectionately.
“Good. If I knew keeping you stuffed would stop you from pouting, I woulda set up a breeding schedule way sooner,” he hums.
“Hush,” you laugh, shaking your head.
He glances to the side where Suguru is chatting with Nanami, “And anyways, if he actually saw us like you said, he’d be all over you right now, teasing you and getting under your skin.. under your panties too. Trust me, I know him.”
You sigh and nod softly. “Right, yeah. I’m probably just tired, paranoid, I don’t know. Talking to him earlier got me all— bleh.”
He hums an affirmation and softly, adoringly pats at your ass. “I know just the thing. I’m gonna get us something to drink.”
You nod and he skips his way over to the cooler, not missing the chance to flick Nanami’s head and act as though it wasn’t him that did it as he interrogates him.
You huff and shake your head at the sight of your silly boyfriend.
“I hope there’s not anymore trouble in paradise?”
Suguru’s soft voice, much closer than you could have expected, makes you jump and gasp, slapping a hand onto your heart as you face him. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”
He chuckles and rocks back on his heels, hands stuffed in his pockets. He leans towards you on the way back to balance on his soles, in that alluring way he seems to do with women— or just you. “Ah— my fault, I didn’t peg you for the jumpy type.”
You exhale deeply as you catch your breath. “I’m usually not.”
He hums with a smile and you clear your throat, looking back towards Satoru as Suguru stands beside you.
“You come over here to chat about your dick size again?”
Suguru snickers with the upmost amusement before exhaling deeply on his last chuckle.
“No, no.” He leans down to your ear and brushes a few fingers down your spine, making you stiffen up, “I wanted to tell you that you might wanna change your pretty little dress.”
You blink, brows furrowing and focus waning from your boyfriend over to his presence engulfing you. “Uh— why?”
The warm hand that isn’t on your lower back reaches down and slides up your inner thigh, making you gasp. A smile crawls on his face and you can hear it as he purrs into your ear.
He holds a few sticky, cum webbed fingers in front of your face. “You’re leaking.”
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[ SUM ] — college soccer coach toji has a secret admirer. but how secret is it when most of the highlights in the school paper are photos of him, instead of the players scoring goals?
[ TAGS ] — MDNI 18+ ONLY. nsfw. piv. raw. unprotected. age gap (mid 30s x early 20s). slight exhibitionism. HEAVY CREAMPIE. FAT BULGE. spanking. CUNNILINGUS. oral f!recieving. dacryphilia. reader kinda freaky. thick dark sexy HAPPY TRAIL. nudity. SHOWER SEX. SCENT KINK. pet names. spitting. wc: 19.1k
[ A/N ] — inspired by coach!toji from my fratkuna series. I was gooning too much whenever I’d mention him soooo
photo-journalism can mean many things. at its core though is documentation and being present. it’s about recording what happens so it doesn’t vanish into the noise of the world. and that’s what you’ve been doing since you started uni.
working for the school newspaper means covering everything that matters to the university. big events, games, and when you attend a school with a division 1 soccer team, that’s ranked the top of the country, it means your weekends are spent on the sidelines of the pitch. floodlights humming overhead, cleats tearing into the turf, and the air sharp with anticipation.
everyone’s eyes are on the match, on the players, the scoreline, and the inevitable victory. everyone’s, except yours.
your lens has a habit of drifting. and it always finds him on the sidelines, the head coach.
standing just outside the white chalk lines. shaggy raven hair that never looks styled, stubble he clearly forgot—or chose not—to shave that morning. his infamous scar pulling at his lips as he shouts. he wears the same black team jacket unzipped, sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. when he folds his arms or gestures sharply toward the field, you always catch his muscles shifting beneath the fabric, veins flexing making it so impossible to ignore.
it’s just a photographer’s eye for striking subjects. for sure….
he beautifully contrasts against the chaos of the game…even if he’s shouting, or breaking his clipboard…. still, you capture him mid-shout, mid-thought, jaw clenched as he’s holding the entire team together.
and then later, when the photos run, and his photos dominate the highlights more than the actual goal, well, you pretend not to notice how often your name sits beneath them in a small, neat printed font.
he doesn’t know you. you’re just another person with a camera on the sidelines. you’re just another face in a sea of professional press badges, not just one of the universities many photographers. but you know him. you know the way his brows pinch when one of his players gets injured, the way his mouth twitches when his team scores, and the way he exhales with relief when the game ends.
and you keep clicking the shutter button—
“again?!” the head editor exclaims. “you didn’t get the goal?”
“I did!” you huff, glaring at the senior grad student who basically runs the entire school newspaper.
“not the first one, the final goal! the one scored by the universities ace! sukuna—“
“god forbid i missed a shot, I basically got everything else, plus I’m not the only one taking photos on the pitch. don’t you have other photographers?” you tsk, arms crossed.
he glares at you behind his desk, clicking through the photos you’d uploaded. “you got every single expression of the damn coach,” he mutters under his breath, clicking through one of toji shouting, then another of him spitting on the grass, then another of him scratching his jaw—
you nibble on your cheek, slouching slightly in the seat.
“you hate when we use someone else’s photos,” he adds, licking his teeth as he finally gets to your photos of the actual players. and they were spectacular. the action shots were perfect, you can see the sweat dribbling down their foreheads.
“because it’s my job,” you mutter, glancing at your editor who frowns when the photos return back to the head coach.
“unbelievable,” he mumbles, exhaling slowly as he sits back in his seat. “you’re killing me.”
your heel kicks the floor. this wasn’t a first. this happens almost every time. your lens just happens to drift away from the ball and fall on the head coach.
even with fans shouting in the stands, and the other cameras flashing in the other direction. your camera can’t help but find coach toji in the chaos. he was just as important as the team. he’s acting like toji isn’t mentioned a million times in the articles! god forbid you want him getting his flowers. but your editor wasn’t very appreciative of your sympathies.
“we’re going with these three, and taking one from the other photographers for the final goal you didn’t get,” he sighs, showing you your three photos, one of the team celebrating, another of satoru gojo sprinting across the field with the ball, and of course, the final — and in your opinion the best — of head coach toji standing with his muscular arms crossed at the start of the second half.
your editor rolls his eyes turning his screen back to him. “if you bring another folder and it’s seventy percent of this damn coach, I’ll drop you and pull noah up.”
the threat has you lowering your head and muttering a hesitate okay, because at the end of the day, you were the only photographer that worked full time for the paper, and you go to every single match. the rest are focused on other stories, or working their way to become editors.
while you liked photo-journalism more. it helped, that on weekends, you got someone to admire. and your editor was not the only one that’s noticed.
“what the hell, you’ve got to be kidding me,” geto huffs, snatching the paper from gojo as he sits on the pitch. “why am I never in these damn fucking articles??” he huffs with anger
“score more goals,” gojo sticks his tongue out, just to get kicked harshly by his friend.
“I fucking scored this game,” geto snaps, grumbling even more as he flips through the paper, seeing the team celebrating.
sukuna chugs his water behind them, “my picture sucks ass,” he grumbles, spitting the water right beside their goalie making him jerk back in annoyance. “you didn’t score, but I get the shit picture?” he snaps lowly at gojo.
geto frowns, “I scored, and at least you get a picture.”
gojo chuckles, pointing at the next photo, making the entire team roll their eyes simultaneously.
“some things never change,” one teammate, yuno, mutters. his hands are on his hips as him and the rest of the team glare at the immaculate, pristine, jaw-dropping photo captured of their strict, grumpy, nicotine addicted head coach, toji.
sukuna snarls as geto looks like he’s going to fucking tear out his luscious black hair. “fucking unbelievable.”
gojo snorts even louder, snatching the paper just to wave it from his place on the ground towards toji, who’d just gotten off the phone. “coach! you’re mogging the cameras again!”
toji’s brows pinch until he notices the photo. and it’s always the same reaction from the head coach. his eyes scan over the photo, then they fall down to the same printed name underneath. “not bad,” he casually says, handing back the newspaper like it’s nothing.
but the entire team is seething, with the exception of gojo laughing his ass off.
“I finally figured out who your secret admirer is,” gojo announces, “it’s definitely the cutie with the charm on her camera and stickers on her flashlight.”
geto raises a brow “how d’ya know that?” the rest of the team immediately huddle in.
gojo clears his throat.
“for the last few games I’ve been purposely fixing my shoes or drinking water on the sidelines where they’re all huddled up. obviously I ruled out all the old farts, then I narrowed it down to the ladies. then i crossed out the outside press, but it’s hard since I can’t see all their press badges—but then i noticed,” gojo holds up the newspaper, slapping his index finger on your name beneath the photo. the entire team have basically memorized your full name by now. “she was the only one still photographing the field, BUT it was pointed at coach,” gojo points to toji.
“AND,” gojo continues, “she had this cute little charm on her camera, and this sticker. and it’s definitely your secret admirer,” gojo confidently smiles.
however, geto scratches his jaw, glancing at gojo then the newspaper. “so which one was her instagram?”
oh right, gojo rubs his neck in disappointment.
your name under a majority of the game’s photos started catching the teams attention a couple months ago. your credentials at the bottom of the article was always signed with your first and last name. however, when the team caught on to your not-so secret admiration for their coach, and neglect of the rest of team, they tried stalking you.
yet, they couldn’t find a single social media handle. not your instagram, twitter, tiktok — even your linkedIn was just the default linkedIn pfp. and the school paper website didn’t have a photo for you. either way, the team was on a mission.
“I don’t think her socials are even under her name,” gojo admits, making the team groan.
toji, silently watching the ordeal transpire, claps his hands, breaking the gossip. “enough, continue your drills unless ya wanna stay till sunset!”
once the team finally finishes practice and began packing their gear. neither one of them notices the students enjoying the nice weather on campus, or the girl that take a detours to walk past the field.
your eyes easily fall on your perfect subject. his hand cracks his neck as he stifles a yawn, kicking the soccer ball towards one of the players as they kick it up, tucking it under their arm.
it was a routine….one that you found yourself subconsciously doing on practice days. you would follow the path down from the quad, until you reach the second soccer field on campus, mainly used for practice and training.
your bag hangs off your shoulder along with your camera — the lens was downsized to your fixed 24mm and the flash wasn’t on — that’s usually how your camera is when you aren’t at events, or games.
it isn’t uncommon to watch the schools infamous soccer team practice. especially when half of them are also part of a fraternity. hell, on the other side of the field were a few girls fawning over the sweaty players.
in other words, you don’t stand out. and you’re unbothered by the hot players that glance your way as they pack their bags. well, until a certain white haired player is squinting across the field, before muttering a quiet “no way…”
geto gives his friend a look, lifting his duffle over his shoulder as sukuna wipes his face with the hem of his jersey, “what?” he grumbles.
gojo’s bag hit the grass. he locks eyes with you. then he does the worst thing imaginable. he shouts your name.
the entire team snap their necks in your direction. gojo suddenly leads the pack of six foot whatever college men across the field — their bags drop, cleats half untied, some bare foot. but all on one mission.
you.
the color immediately drains from your face. your body freezes like a deer in headlights. and when the entire team of sweaty, built, hot men crowd the waist-high fence that separate them from you. you’re ultimately stuck.
“you’re-you’re—“ slightly out of breath and pumped full of adrenaline, gojo heaves out your name. not just a first name, no—your full government name. “right!?”
you eyes lazily drag between the men, fixing the strap of your bag, your camera clinking against the side, drawing every man’s attention to the little charm gojo had just described less than an hour ago.
“yeah,” you manage to exhale, shifting your balance. “did you need something?”
“yeah,” the low voice of the hot headed team captain interrupts. he hadn’t ran with rest of the players, instead he walked up, casual and full of loud confidence. finally making his way across the field, energy drink in hand, glaring right through you as he continues. “why the fuck was my picture the only one not taken by you? it looks like shit.”
you exhale, about to answer when another one cuts in.
“why haven’t you taken one of me? the game last month was my debut and you didn’t get me going on the pitch—“
“I liked that shot you got of me when—“
“can you get my good side next time—“
“why did you—“
“can you—“
“you didn’t get my goal!” geto manages to dogpile. all the men yell complaints and compliments, overwhelming you with critiques. until you’re frowning, glaring harshly at the group of men you’d watched from a distance since your freshman year.
“I don’t work for you guys,” you finally snap. your words are cold making the men frown. “I work for the schools paper, and they choose the photos, not me.”
“and yet coach is in every single one of em?” geto bites back, and that’s when they all catch the slight surprise that crosses your face.
gojo smirks, leaning over the fence, getting close as he tilts his head. “seems like a majority of your photos have our coach. it’s like your editor can’t help but be forced to put him in.”
you feel your stomach churn, glancing between the sharp sapphire eyes. “that’s not how it works,” you mutter.
you did not expect your first interaction with the soccer team to be this. accusing you of favoritism. you can practically feel all their eyes on you, like they knew exactly who you are, even if this is your first time speaking to them.
“sure looks like it,” sukuna drawls, smirking wide when he sees you shift uncomfortably. “you like our coach or somethin?”
“of course she does,” geto’s smooth voice cuts in. “do you get all hot lookin at coach toji?”
you swallow thickly, pushing down the heat crawling up your neck to glare at the men. “you guys are disgusting,” you spit, but the men don’t falter, instead they continue gloating and poking.
“we just wanna get to know you. you’ve been takin’ our pics for months, we can’t have a chat now?” geto cuts.
they were quietly impressed with your composure. your poker face would’ve been perfect if not for the slight fidgeting you’re doing with your bag and camera strap. either way, your glare was mean, unwavering until—
“cut it out.”
the sharp voice slices through the team. then, one strong palm shoves gojo into geto, and the rest of the team topple on each other like dominos. the head coach plants himself between the fence, his team, and you.
“i forget you’re all a couple children,” toji tsks, his arms are crossed standing like a lone knight keeping a pack a wolves from a poor princess.
your heart slams against your rib cage. all your composure evaporates into thin air, struggling to catch your breath. this was the closest you’ve gotten to the head coach. you can practically smell the mixture of his cologne and natural musk. your cheeks grow hotter by the second, completely dazed and loosing all other senses, unaware that practically half the team noticed your sudden shift.
gojo elbows geto eyeing the way your pupils basically turn into bright pink hearts. even your lips look more glossy from the drool collecting in your mouth.
they’d never seen anything like it, and for their coach of all people?!
you’re caught up in gawking at the huge man, eyeing his wide shoulders, the veins straining from his compression shirt, his shirt clinging to every muscle that could break you in a blink of an eye — that you miss his short lecture towards his boys to quit scaring off a young woman, all to end with him shouting—
“ten more laps!”
the team’s eyes bulge, jaws dropping in shock, and quickly follow up with a spew of complaints.
“ya heard coach!” sukuna, the hot-headed captain, interrupts. and if the team wasn’t scared of their coach, they definitely had a reason to be with their captain. they ultimately drop their things and start their laps. however, sukuna hangs back at bit, “I didn’t even say sh—“
“you were late to practice, so you were gonna do the laps anyways,” toji cuts, earning a loud tsk from the tattooed captain. his duffle drops on the floor dramatically, eyes flicking towards yours, which — no surprise — haven’t left the coach’s profile, and with his own groan, his cleats hit the grass starting his lap.
with the entire team running laps….you’re left alone.
coach toji doesn’t move.
instead, he leans against the fence, strong arms crossing. you’re barely a foot behind him, close enough that the scent of grass and dizzy cologne reaches you when he shifts his weight. close enough that your brain short-circuits again.
then he looks over his shoulder.
it’s not rushed or sharp. it was an easy turn of his head, his dark emerald eyes flick to you with calm, assessing. and up close, he’s worse. he’s broader than he looks from the sidelines, his stubble shadowing his jaw feels unfair for a sunday morning. sunlight catches the edge of his cheekbone, and the curve of his mouth makes you stare shamelessly especially when it lifts just slightly. he’s amused by something you’re not aware of yet and you don’t even notice.
your heart stutters.
you practically forget how to stand or how to function like a grown ass adult, instead you feel like someone who’s just had their fantasy materialize directly in front of them.
heat rushes to your face, your chest tightens, and you pray, desperately, that your expression isn’t as transparent as it feels. you focus on keeping your hands still, even as your pulse flutters wildly under your skin.
and toji’s gaze lingers. he takes you in like the way someone experienced does, without staring, without shame, just a brief glance that drifts. from your fidgeting fingers, to your necklace trapped between your pretty cleavage, to the tank top that hugs your chest, to the zip up hoodie falling off your soft shoulder. to your lips, wet from the amount of times you’d lick and bit them.
and you still don’t notice it! you’re too busy trying not to melt into the grass beneath your feet. all you register is how hot the space suddenly feels, how solid he seems standing there.
from the field, a player snickers mid-lap. a majority watching the entire interaction, waiting for someone to make a move. gojo snickers as geto analyzes.
you don’t hear any of it, all you know is that the knights are real, and he’s right in front of you, and your carefully maintained composure never stood a chance. especially when his eyes meet yours and his deep, husky, voice sinks into your bones.
“been wondering who was seein’ me like that, sweetheart.”
you were gone.
s-s-s-sweetheart!?
your heart bursts, veins burning through your skin as your lips part, words falling into the void as your brain struggles to reply.
and he finds it adorable.
college girls are cute, but you, you’re a little pervert. how many photos have you taken of him? and for the past year too? he’s wondered just like his team had, who was behind all those photos. who was oogling him while the best team in the nation was playing right before their eyes?
at first, he was bothered, confused even, how big of a stalker did you have to be to take his photos for months and not introduce yourself?
but now he sees it. the way you’re struggling to find words. the way your eyes flick between his — surprised even that you’re not shying away from eye contact, but instead, struggling to just respond. like the words are right there, but your dumb brain is getting fried just by his presence. cute.
“I’ll try an’ wink next time.”
he just hammers the nail straight into your heart. your face bursts into flames as you let out a strangled hum like whine, face burning even more. unfortunately, your audience isn’t as silent. instead a few had caught your reaction and were bursting with laughter. a few whistling at their coach.
“she’s too young for ya, coach!”
“get someone y’er own age!”
“coach, the shy ones are the freakiest!”
the last one — somehow — snapped you back to reality. your glare cut through the field, immediately hitting one of the players making him burst out laughing along with the others around him. your face pulls into a scowl, heart hammering at the teasing you’re receiving from the team. who even are they? they don’t know anything about you!
shy?! you?!!! you scowl in annoyance, eyes rollin—
“ignore em, sweetheart. they’re just being dicks.”
fuck.
your face burns hot again, heart hammering against your ribs as you stutter out another nod, fingers gripping your bag as you glance at the head coach again. his green eyes were unbelievably dark, just staring at them, you felt like you were getting dizzy.
the scar on his lip twitches up, leaning an elbow on the fence, his eyes flick down to your camera. “what kinda camera is that?”
your eyes widen, looking down like you’re surprised it’s there. but it seems like he flicks a switch in your brain with that question, because now you’re fumbling to hold the delicate thing in your hands. then you hold it out for him.
a small puff of air leaves his nose in amusement. you’re cute. he turns, reaching his hand out, just for your small ones to place the expensive camera in his. the same one you’d deny your friends from even holding, afraid they’ll drop it.
b-but if coach toji holds it…if he wants to hold it…who…who are you to stop him!!!
your blush only breaks out across your body once you feel your hands brush his, eyes so bright and big even he can see the hearts explode from your irises, fuzzy pink flowers glowing around your head like a cartoon.
“looks expensive,” he finally takes his eyes away from you to momentarily examine the camera. it was nice, sony. “bought it yourself?”
you nod, smiling as you rock on your heels. “it was…” oh first words, toji’s eyes flick to you, eyeing your glossy lips as they part. “my first big purchase,” you glance at the camera then back up at toji as you point with your manicured index finger, towards the camera. “it’s nice…right?”
well fuck me.
toji chuckles internally. he really can’t read you. from rude (to the team), to shy, to snappy (to the team), to demure, to charming—all while looking up at him like he’s some shinning knight and not a coach, albeit for the best team in the nation, but still.
his lips curl up, his internal switch already flipped when he shooed the team away, and the smooth voice of his poured out like second nature. “very nice, sweetheart.”
you nod, enthusiastically.
god, you were a cutie.
“and you take such good pictures with it too, you’re a natural,” the sweet words just keep pouring from his mouth like honey, and you’re eating up every drop. your feet manage to carry you closer to the fence…closer to him.
you wet your glossy lips, leaning close to point at the camera, “it also takes video here…I initially wanted to do more videography, but I stuck with photos. but it’s a nice perk with the camera…and I can shoot in raw and jpeg, so I can edit them afterwards if I want, and uh and I have other lenses too. this one is a fixed one, so it can’t zoom, but I have two other ones that zoom, I usually use those ones for work…like during your….games.”
your rambling was one of, if not, the most attractively adorable things you could’ve done at this moment. especially when you’re oblivious to the light flush that settles in the coach’s stomach as he eyes you down.
his gaze flicks between your fingers on the camera, and your profile from his height. your hair lightly brush’s back from the wind exposing your neck, your perfume reaching his nose.
“can I try takin’ a pic?”
your face bursts hot, you feel like it’ll melt off as you gawk up at the head coach, before nodding your head frantically, a wide smile pulling at your lips. you try to clear your throat as you turn the camera on for him and take the lens cap off.
“good?” he asks.
you just nod again, biting your cheek feeling how wide you’re smiling it almost hurts, but you can’t take your eyes off the way his big hands handle your camera. your biggest crush ever is using your camera!
you contain a squeal as he stands straight. he brings the camera to his eye, before lowering it again, confused. your eyes widen momentarily before realizing he’s struggling and quickly stepping up again.
you lean over the fence. and toji purposely avoids coming down to your height. instead, he watches you hold the fence to stand on your tippy toes, the other gently holds his wrist to ask him to lower the camera just a bit from his eye so you can instruct him. fuck, the confidence to touch him when you were just a jittery mess a second ago.
“the shutter button is here. if you half press it, it’ll auto-focus for you—“ you move to the front of the camera flipping some switch, “jus’ turned it on. but just press down all the way and it’ll take the picture,” you say, mistakenly glancing up from where you are, just to realize that coach toji’s face is inches from yours. his warm breath fans against your cheek, his scar so close, his lips right there and his eyes….
you were beyond gone. the steam immediately comes off your face as your eyes turn into big giant hearts. you’re so easy to read it should be illegal.
you fall back on your heels, allowing toji to attempt again. what you weren’t expecting was for him to point the camera at you.
well considering the wider lens, I guess he wants to shoot something closer for more satisfaction. but it caught you slightly off guard, your cheeks flame once more, heart stuttering, but your face immediately lights up.
his lips curve up behind the camera, watching you give him a cute smile, angling your head to tip to the side a bit. people that automatically smile when a camera is pointed at them is definitely a cute trait.
he takes a few quick photos, before pulling the camera back. “how do I see ‘em?”
this time he lowers the camera for you, but keeps it close to his body so you’re still leaning over and up beside him, albeit with the fence between you both.
“ah the sun was behind me,” you realize now looking at the photos. toji hums like he knows what that means (he doesn’t) but he clicks the button to go to the next picture and same thing.
“let’s do it again,” he says, already pulling the camera back, but your finger quickly reaches out, easily flipping it back to view mode before moving back. toji watches you glance up at the sky, before moving yourself in front of the sun. “smile f’er me, sweetheart.”
you were smiling, but now—toji chuckles through his nose at your reaction. he knows exactly what he’s doing. he takes one photo, than another.
your smile turns more pose worthy, not so big, but just as beautiful. “you’re a natural,” he comments, with full honesty.
your cheeks flush, waving your hand in front of you, “don’t glaze me.”
toji snorts, “jus’ saying what I see, not my fault you pose like a model.”
a model?!
toji notices the way you bite your cheek and the way your hands fidget with your bag. “put the bag down, sweetheart.”
your heart skips again, the nickname electing a response from you every time. but you oblige, setting your bag on the ground. now without anything to fidget with, your hands carefully clasp behind your back, your navy hoodie completely off your shoulder, exposing the casual white tank top. his eyes glance at the swell of your tits that your bra pushes up. and the sliver of skin that peaks at the bottom.
the wind was like a perfect accessory, blowing a warm spring breeze in your direction brushing your hair again.
you do your best to pose casually, smiling at the camera, eyes low as you stare into the lens, heart beating erratically as you wait for coach toji to finish.
your breath catches momentarily. cheeks stinging and lips parting like a deer in headlights, because you notice it. just briefly, the way toji lowers the camera from his eye, gaze tracking down your figure, eyeing your thighs, then your hips, then your tits.
he’s definitely checking you out.
you glance away, flustered, unaware that toji was now clicking the library to view the photos he’d just taken.
“I think I’m a pretty good shot,” he compliments his nonexistent skills, but the light hits you so well.
you smile watching him look at the photos. eyes glued to his lazy smirk, stomach hot and heart fluttering at his short comments. he’s so handsome, you glance at the curve of his nose, the stubble on his cheek. he’s so so pretty.
your mind was getting dizzy, all because coach toji is in front of you, but it made you completely forgetful that if he keeps clicking next, it’ll eventually reach—
“oh.”
you first notice the slight raise of his brows, then the scar on his lip twitching wider, then the greens of his eyes darkening.
“did ya’ submit these too, sweetheart?”
your brows furrow for half a second, then it clicks. you lunge forward.
this can’t be happening!
you immediately cover the screen and take the camera as you hear the coach chuckle. of course you’d forgotten that you had these on your sd card.
staring back at you is a photo of toji’s fat bulge from the game. you managed to catch the moment he reached down to itch himself, grabbing it. if he saw this one he definitely saw the three before this of the closeups of his lips, his big biceps, his ass when he was fixing his shoes.
your heart is beating in your ears, skin sizzling with embarrassment as your vision starts to narrow. your eyes flick up to the coach in horror, flustered beyond speech. “it’s not—“ you struggle to explain, “you weren’t supposed to see that. I was just taking one—then I someone bumped so like, the camera went down—“
the rambling was unlike the one before, this one was much more uncoordinated, fueled by your humiliation, anxiety, and desperate attempt at defending yourself to him, so that he doesn’t think you’re some creep.
“I wore that shirt from the match two weeks ago. not this one….” his head tilts, arms folded across his beefy chest. “why do you still have ‘em?”
the older man is quite unbothered. instead, his chest grew hot, and his mind wandered off imagining this hot college girl laying in her bed, staring at pictures of his crotch with her small fingers playing with her wet little pussy. his eyes flick to your chest again.
your eyes are wide, glancing at your camera.
“I just forgot to format the card,” you quickly reply, pretty chest rising and falling. “I always forget, and I realize after when I’m exporting the photos or run out of storage—I delete them, i-i swear!”
he snorts, head tilting, “you swear?”
you nod frantically.
his emerald eyes narrow, tongue poking out to wet his lips, touching his scar. his eyes flick to the camera in your hands. you’re quite the actor…
“okay, I’ll take your word then. you wouldn’t lie to me…?” his gaze was intimidating, the darkness of his pupils felt like a black hole pulling you in. but somehow you manage to shake your head.
“no, sir.”
toji holds eye contact, before tearing it away to reach for his phone, “good girl.”
your heart beats in your throat, threatening to tear out, but you step forward, eyes big and sad. “sorry, coach.” there’s a slight waver in your voice, the man’s eyes widen briefly, chuckling under his breath as he brings a hand up to the crown of your head.
“don’t worry about it, keep taking photos of me. ya’ make me feel important,” his comment is punctuated with a flirtatious wink, shooting another arrow straight into your heart.
you were lovestruck the entire trip home. and so unbelievably grateful.
you talked your way out of such incriminating evidence. because how could coach toji know that in truth, you have an entire album of photos just like the ones he saw, that you pull out almost every night to help you cum.
you really should be an actor, you think, blushing at the way he called you good girl. the way he looked at you, the way his fingers brushed yours on the camera —ahhhh, you bury your hot face in your hands.
you were in shock for days, heart slamming against your chest and face heating up every time you thought back to the moment.
you were so in your head that you hadn’t even noticed the two athletes walking up behind you on your way out of class, crossing the quad.
it’s like that thing that happens. when you’re finally introduced to someone for the first time, then you’re suddenly seeing them everywhere. that’s how geto and gojo felt. you’d been under their noses the entire time.
with a lecture of over two hundred students, of course they’d spot you when you entered today. gojo elbowed his friend, nodding in your direction. geto’s eyes nearly popped.
“what the hell?” geto leans forward, the two men closely watch you enter the lecture hall, walking a few rows down before slipping in. geto’s eyes narrow at the camera you carefully place in your lap as you take out your ipad.
it was like the cards were being dealt out for him perfectly.
“wait, I don’t get it,” gojo huffs catching up to his friend as the lecture hall empties.
geto tsks, “what’s not to get? I’m gonna bribe her into taking photos of me next game. I’m fucking tired of being some fucking blur—“
“you’ve gotten some photos man—“
“well i want more. ones where I’m actually scoring,” geto huffs, brushing his bang back in frustration.
once the two men hit the pavement outside, they spot you. gojo is tagging along for the fun, while geto is set on a mission. one he conjured up mid-lecture the second he saw you. it was perfect. genius—
“what?” your face scrunches in mild disgust. the two men baffle at your reaction, especially at the way you’re looking up at them with narrow, and irritated eyes. your expression isn’t hard to decipher, it’s basically screaming, why tf are you talking to me?
geto licks his teeth, exhaling through his nose, “you heard me fine, sweetheart—“
“don’t call me that.”
his jaw clenches, repeating his line without the pet name. “the next two games are the semifinals and then the finals, so I’ll give you access through our manager to join press during the media window two days before the matches—“
“I already have access to that through the school paper,” you give him a look, immediately ticking him off.
“let me fucking finish will you—“
“you’re taking forever and I’m being cornered,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at the pretentious athlete. geto bites his tongue, as gojo gasps.
“you’re not being cornered!” he states, just to exchange a look with geto as they both see that they’ve steered you off the pavement and against a tree. “no—we’re just talking.”
you exhale, glancing back at geto, “whatever, just finish.”
geto licks his lips, continuing, “you’ll also get access to our locker room strategy meeting or whatever, and behind the scenes access — you only do photos, no video or interviews?”
you shake your head, heart beating just a little quicker because now you’re starting to see the perks. bts access is the one thing university teams can deny since they don’t like any outsiders butting into their strategies or taking them out of “the zone.”
that also means you can see….coach toji.
gojo and geto both notice the realization crossing your face, especially when your lips part, much more glossy than before. unbelievable.
“but,” geto snaps you back, your eyes darting up to meet his, “you better take some good fucking shots of me during the game. if I’m not in the fucking paper and insta page, then no deal.”
you gasp, “dude, you’re literally acting like I’m the one in charge of that?? it’s my editor that picks the photos to put in the articles.”
geto tsks, “yet somehow coach is in every single one.” your jaw clenches, stomach heating up. “take more photos of me so it’s inevitable. got it?”
your lip curls in annoyance, eyeing geto, just for gojo to suddenly but in—
“but also take some of me, i look so hot in them and i like reposting them on my insta,” gojo flashes you a smile.
your frown deepens, “there’s other photographers. you guys know that right?”
“yours are the only ones they choose and they look better than whoever took sukuna’s,” gojo snorts, remembering their captains complaints.
nevertheless, geto and gojo wait for you to agree, both men standing with their arms crossed, blocking the spring sun from hitting you.
then a certain captain happens to pass by, noticing his two teammates, and frat brothers.
“the fuck are you guys doing?”
the men whip their heads as sukuna steps up, bag slung over his shoulder wearing a backwards baseball cap. and with a quick explanation from his friends, sukuna tsks glancing at you and adding.
“coach always showers before or after our games.”
and it was that one bit of information that automatically has you saying: “deal.”
—
you don’t rush setting up. you check your flash, bouncing it once off the ceiling to make sure it won’t wash anyone out. your fingers move with muscle memory, standing in these rooms plenty of times for the school paper, along with other journalists from the school paper especially for media days, post-game scrums, pre-season press.
so this isn’t new territory.
the room is packed, though. there’s national outlets mingling with campus press, and clusters of journalists already talking. you hear familiar phrases float past as you move, many talking about the teams unbeaten streak, their goal differentials, their historic season.
familiar names are easily getting tossed around. captain sukuna coming up first, always, and his leadership, and the way he commands the field. gojo’s speed follows after, and his natural talent and eye for goals, then geto’s consistency, his intelligence and composure. someone mentions scouts again, plural this time, and how a few clubs have been hovering around those three all season.
you barely react because you’ve heard all of this before, and it was impressive of course, you enjoy it. however, what does get you, embarrassingly, is his name.
every time coach toji is mentioned—his tactics, his discipline, the way he rebuilt the program and incorporated new strategies —you feel heat creep up your neck. it’s a soft and traitorous blush that you’re grateful no one’s looking closely enough to notice you smiling.
you keep your eyes on your camera, pretending to fiddle with a setting you don’t actually need to adjust, reminding yourself that he’s just part of the team. a very effective, very respected part of it.
then finally, the noise dips and the conversations fade into an expectant quiet as the side door opens.
the players file in first, with sukuna at the front, expression unreadable, gojo already grinning, geto calm and observant as ever. everyone’s cameras lift, and recorders click on. and then he steps in behind them.
coach toji, in a suit.
your face breaks into a hot mess, heart skipping a beat as you eye him through your lens. it fits him too well. dark, sharp, shoulders filling it out like it was tailored perfectly. no team jacket today, no morning stumble. no, he looked clean, with polished shoes, and authority. he guides the team forward eyes sweeping the room calmly.
your flash fires once, professionalism wavering again. how can it not when your knight is walking into the room and reminding you exactly how out of reach he is.
the entire team easily spots you in the front row for the first time. your charm hangs from your camera strap, along with the little sticker on your godox flash. they all know who you are now, so their wasn’t any hiding the way they’d purposely glance at your camera lens, giving you their best shots.
many of the questions are being directed towards the coach, your eyes focus on his reaction, lens zooming close as he rolls his dress shirt over his forearms. your camera flashes and your cheeks warm. you do this every time. acting like it’s your first time seeing the coach in a suit even though he wears one every semifinals press. but you can’t help it!
journalists throw questions without breath, firing rounds until the set time is up.
“photographers only, please.”
the room clears out fast. chairs scrape back, and laptops snap shut. you step forward instinctively, already lifting your camera. the players shift back into place. sukuna straightens, his expression resetting into something stoic. gojo cracks a joke under his breath that earns him a look. geto adjusts his sleeves, calm as ever.
toji moves standing just off to the side at first, arms crossed, smooth dress shirt crinkling over his taut muscles, and unforgiving across his shoulders.
the manager gestures. “let’s get the team all together first.”
cameras flash as the team pose, all in their uniform. you move easily getting their shots, unaware of the emerald eyes watching your every move.
coach toji noticed you the minute he stepped into the room. however, he remained composed, knowing how many eyes were on him. but now, his eyes sweep over your figure.
your grey dress pants hugging that right ass, and those hips. the tight dress shirt hugged your frame, with the top buttons undone allowing some of your cleavage to be revealed along with your necklace stack. business casual, but he’s sure half the team is looking at your tits. your pretty anklet catching the light as you move in your kitten heels.
“coach with sukuna,” the manager says.
toji steps forward.
you track him without thinking, framing the shot as he places a hand lightly at sukuna’s back, guiding him a half-step to the left. your shutter clicks, noticing how easily he steps into your frame, how naturally he fills it. his height just a hair taller than the hot headed captain, at least in your eyes.
“alright, another group photo,” the manager says.
toji turns, motioning the players in with two fingers. his eyes briefly catch yours making your eyes widen. the team clusters around their coach, heads bowed slightly, listening even though there’s nothing to hear. he speaks low anyway. you circle to the side, careful, capturing the curve of his shoulder, the way his jaw tightens when he focuses.
toji’s gaze lifts again, slow and deliberate, landing on you.
why does he keep doing that?!
it’s brief. just a glance that lingers a fraction longer, his eyes flick from your face to the camera in your hands and back again, like he’s remembering the photos he saw on your camera.
you feel heat blooming under your skin, pulse kicking hard enough to throw you off guard. you steady your hands, inhaling subtly, pretending you don’t feel the way the air shifts when he turns slightly…when he ends up closer than before, just at the edge of your frame.
“okay, we’re good,” the manager calls.
the team breaks, the players disperse, but toji stays put for a beat longer, adjusting his sleeve, posture relaxed again, unreadable.
you lower your camera only when it’s over, breath leaving you in a quiet rush you didn’t realize you were holding. you don’t see him glance at you when you step back to check your photos. you also don’t notice the small, satisfied curve of his mouth.
not until you’re feeling a gentle, firm, hand on your waist, and a low voice right against your ear, “say hi next time. you’re not a stranger anymore.”
your body immediately catches on fire, eyes snapping to the man like a magnet, heart slamming against your ribs as you watch him pull back, emerald eyes meeting yours.
“right, sweetheart?”
your face stings, as you nod quickly, heat pooling deep in your stomach, feeling his thumb caress your hip over your shirt. your lips part, mind dizzy as you glance as his strong forearms, he’s towering over you, slightly leaning down to speak to you in quiet whispers.
“I’ll see c’ya tomorrow, yeah,” he gives your waist a squeeze as he greets you with a kiss to your cheek like some gentleman. then he walks away. and if you weren’t a mess before, the casual glance he shoots over his shoulder has a third arrow piercing your heart.
you couldn’t contain it anymore. you were consumed by this man. every waking thought was spent daydreaming about him— his voice, his eyes, his hands, his demeanor. it was intoxicating.
all for you to show up in the lockerroom, the next day, hours before the match. the team is either dressed in their uniforms, or still shirtless, huddling around the white board as they prep for the game.
geto was the second to notice you, after gojo. both their eyes twinkling as they walk up to you. “they gave you the pass,” geto nods to the press badge around your neck.
you nod, glancing around the lockerroom. it felt tense, the aura suspenseful as the time ticks closer to when they walk onto the pitch.
“get your vip shots, but you better get my photo,” geto hushes in your ear.
“and mine!” gojo blurts, just as a certain coach is stepping out of the steam.
and you feel it. the towel wrapped low around his waist, skin still slick with water that traces unhurried paths down his sculpted torso. his hair is darker when it’s wet, heavier, droplets slide from it and disappear along the hard lines of his shoulders.
your eyes catch his muscles moving when he walks, hard mass, that shifts beneath skin without effort. you swallow thickly, body heating up, stomach fluttering as you catch the trail of dark coarse hair leading down from his navel, and disappearing beneath the towel. your eyes follow it to the bulge you know is under there. your cheeks sting at the thought of it.
you were utterly shameless. as if the two men standing beside aren’t still talking to you. but they immediately recognize the shift in your attitude and notice the steam leaving your face. gojo stifles a laugh, as geto sighs. you’re hopeless.
your eyes follow the scars you’ve never seen before. the old pale marks catch the light, etched across his side, his pecs, and back, proof of some life before this one. then he turns just enough and your heart stutters, and your panties soak.
ink blooms along his ribs where the towel dips. the tattoos are sharp and intimate, black against his skin that’s still flushed from the heat. you’ve photographed him dozens of times, from every angle, but you’ve never seen a peak of a tattoo.
“how wet are you right now?”
the comment snaps you back, glaring straight at the crystal ocean eyes narrowed in amusement.
“don’t talk to me like that,” you huff, “I’m working.” your attitude really is night and day when it comes to anyone else and toji.
gojo blushes, “I love mean girls.”
you roll your eyes.
“what’re you two doing? get the fuck over here,” sukuna snaps.
the team huddles as the fifteen minute timer starts. and that’s what you should be photographing, but instead you glance back. toji is now pulling up his pants, wet hair still dripping down the expanse of his back. his eyes catch yours for a second, gaze flicking to your camera, taunting…
his hand subtly cups his crotch, squeezing his girth just to present you with a size, one that has your lips parting with a shaky exhale, heart pounding as you glance between his emerald eyes and the way his forearms flex when he fixes the waistband of his boxers, pulling the material down just a bit that you catch more of the thick patch of hair at his base seeing a peak of it, before he’s fixing himself again.
and once he zips his pants up, glancing at the team as they huddle for some words from the captain before coach steps in, toji walks to you. just a few feet away, your eyes widen in surprise, heart stuttering as you watch him lean down to greet you with a kiss to your cheek, again!
he’s acting like you’re familiar even though this is just your third interaction with him…but maybe you are…
“thought I told you to say hi next time,” he says against your ear, pulling away.
your face heats up, “you were….changing.”
“so?”
you gulp, eyes flicking between his, heart pounding. he’s so close. your breath catches when his scent hits your nose, sandalwood, oak and something deeper under it. his stubble is darker than yesterday, rougher along his jaw, and you realize you’ve been staring for too long when the heat creeps up your neck.
he doesn’t move away though, he stands beside you, attention forward on sukuna as he speaks. focused, and so aware of you’re attention he has to hold back a smirk. and maybe he doesn’t mind messing with you, so his hand remains at your lower back, light, almost absent, but there.
your stomach flips, attention gone. you try to listen, you do. sukuna is talking about positioning, about discipline, about not getting sloppy or something and the room is locking in around you, everyone leaning in. these would be great photos—but all you can think about is how close he is.
how his hand hasn’t moved, every small shift makes your pulse jump. you keep your eyes forward. you don’t trust yourself to look at him again.
and that gives toji the opportunity to take you in. his pupils dilate just a fraction as his gaze travels down your body. his eyes zero in on the multiple open buttons of your tight dress shirt. you’re not even hiding yourself, and the sliver of skin that peaks between your pants and shirt doesn’t help.
his hand remains over your clothes, heat settling in his stomach when you take a deeper breath and your tits push up, and his eyes shamelessly look down your shirt from his towering height. fuck, he wants a look at that pretty ass too—
“coach! you’re up!” sukuna’s voice cuts through everything, snapping toji back. your gaze whips with it, catching him off guard as you wait for his next move like anything he touches is gold.
he controls himself, giving your waist that same squeeze before his hand leaves you just like that.
you push down the feeling that hits immediately, sharp and cold. but now you can finally breathe properly when he steps away. he moves past the players without rushing — a few of the boys let their eyes roam over you— toji adjusts his sleeve ignoring the feeling bubbling up when he notices them. and then he’s at the front.
he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t need to now, but he usually gets to that point around the halfway mark. but this was the first time you’re seeing him speak in private…and when he speaks, they all listen—every single one of them.
gojo notices, gossip second nature to him. but the quick glance your way already has a grin tugging at his mouth before he nudges geto. geto follows his gaze, then sukuna does too, just briefly—and it’s obvious. painfully obvious. the way your expression softens, the way your attention doesn’t wavers. it’s written all over you.
“she’s actually really hot,” gojo comments.
though you wish you could stand there forever, the time finally comes for the team to head to the pitch, and that’s when the chaos begins.
not just on the field…but off it.
the press box is packed, bodies press against you shoulder to shoulder. the field below is relentless. everything fast, and aggressive, and loud enough that the noise bleeds through everything. you always forget how overstimulating and exhilarating semifinal matches are. but you remember the deal you made with the three stars.
your camera moves with them, tracking their plays, snapping multiple shots of them without hesitation, and then catching the moment when things go wrong...
sukuna gets taken down hard during a penalty shot—and there’s no whistle. no call.
you’re already shooting when the other team pushes, then scores, and the stadium erupts, but sukuna is on his feet, shouting. the goal should be discounted. the captain was known to be a hot head, but even you could see that the tackle he received was completely brushed off by the ref and he was right.
everyone watches as the team moves forward in defense of sukuna, but also holding him back. the other side meets them just as hard. the crowd shouts as they watch the players shove, yell, and slam into each other—and through it all you keep shooting. you catch toji too, voice cutting through the chaos as he orders his players to pull sukuna back.
the press talk amongst themselves as halftime quickly breaks up the argument. your feet quickly carry you out of the press box, towards the locker room.
“no locker room access.”
your jaw tightens immediately irritation flaring hot and sharp.
“I have a different badge,” you show the security guard your press ID. the one geto gave you.
“no press allowed, do i need to repeat myself?” the man snaps.
your irritation ticks at your side. fine. whatever. the second you step back, your mind is already running, already circling back to geto. you scoff under your breath, shaking your head as you pace along the corridor, camera swinging lightly at your side.
seriously? all that talk, all that stupid ass convincing, and for what? you were supposed to be there. that was the whole point! you roll your eyes, heat building the longer you think about it, every step feeding into this petty irritation instead of cooling it. were you overreacting —yes, but whatever—if he’s not holding up his end, then why should you?
by the time you make it back up, you’re done. done thinking about it, done entertaining it, done with their stupid deal.
the second half starts and you fall back into rhythm. camera up, focus sharp, and attention on only one thing now, the ball….
gojo and geto drift near the press box occasionally, clearly expecting something, acknowledgment, a photo, but you don’t even bat an eye. not a look, not a flicker, hell, they might as well not exist.
it’s almost satisfying. almost.
the final whistle blows and the stadium erupts, the first leg ended in a draw, preparing for next game to see who’ll continue. cameras around you go wild, capturing every second of it. the quiet annoyance of both teams, the noise in the crowd. but you don’t. you lower yours, expression flat, already turning away. it’s petty. a little unfair, but still, you walk.
“you’re not coming to the locker room?” gojo’s voice follows you, footsteps quick behind yours as you head in the opposite direction.
“why would i?” you snap, sharp, not even slowing. “am i even allowed,” there’s an obvious clip in your tone that has gojo confused.
“what’re you talking about?”
“deal’s off.”
huh?!????
gojo barely has time to react, before you’re walking away.
baffled and utterly confused, gojo makes his way back to the locker rooms. the energy is stiff, sukuna is grumbling under his breath about how embarrassing it was to end their first leg in a draw, geto is lounged beside his bag scrolling on his phone, and toji is in the corner talking to the managers. ugh, does no one care that their personal photographer isn’t taking photos of them???
they do care.
especially when the next paper comes out and the article is filled with photos taken by other people, not you!
“WHY THE FUCK DO I LOOK LIKE THAT!??” sukuna shouts, entire body fumming as they all sit outside during practice. sukuna is not the only one pissed, geto is practically seething because there isn’t even a single photo of him or gojo.
“what is this girl’s problem?! i thought you idiots made a deal with her?!” sukuna snaps, already in a foul mood, but now it’s worse.
geto licks his teeth, jaw ticking, “we did.”
“I told you guys she was pissed that she didn’t come in during halftime,” gojo throws, as if anyone was listening to him after their shitty match.
“so she throws a tantrum because she didn’t see coach’s dick during halftime?” sukuna clips.
“she looked super hot when she was all pissed though,” gojo throws, “she’d definitely go for me after she realizes how old coach is.”
“what’s wrong with you?” geto rolls his eyes, confused how gojo can talk about your looks when you screwed them over. even if he maybe also finds you attractive, it doesn’t negate your shitty attitude.
gojo throws his hands up in defensive, “I’m just calling dibs now.”
toji, just a few feet away, strides over after noticing the group no longer doing drills. “what’s the hold up!” he grunts, also in a shit mood because of the embarrassing match and then overheating what gojo had said.
“your stalker fucked us over,” geto snaps, eyes burning into the school paper. “she didn’t even get a pic of you.”
gojo’s eyes light up, “oh shit, yeah—she’s definitely over you!”
the paper then hits toji’s chest, his brows furrowing as he holds it up. his eyes glance over the sports section, and just as geto had stated, there wasn’t a single photo of him, unless you’re counting the wide shot of the field and you see him standing in the corner, but it definitely was a starch contrast from the streak you’d created.
“so?” toji tosses the paper like it’s nothing, “you guys playing for the cameras or because you want to win?!”
the men baffled, gasp and scoff. “we want to win!”
“then get off your fucking asses! I don’t have time to be doing this shit with you all!” he snaps aggressively, uncharacteristically pissed off, whether it’s because of the teams misdirected frustrations, or something else. either way, the school paper is long forgotten beside their bags and the team is splitting into practice teams.
it doesn’t matter…
it doesn’t matter that you made a deal with suguru geto and satoru gojo. and the captain pushed you to seal that deal with the information about coach — and they broke it. none of it matters! you still should’ve taken those photos, especially when you’re receiving an earful from your editor, and then sulking through the week of classes.
“what’s your problem,” your friend, shoko, cuts in, snapping you back to the campus day festival. you were once again sulking on the picnic bench, ice cream melting in the cup as you stare off.
“you’re gonna get annoyed…” you mutter, brows pinched in agony.
for most passing by, they immediately steered clear of you, not only did you carry a lethal rbf, your words of “agony” really translates to, you’ll rip someone’s head off and if looks could kill, everyone would be dead. it was quite funny, considering how you’re pretty sweet when you want to be, shoko quietly thinks. still, most would rather avoid you, thanking the heavens that you stay behind the camera so you don’t interact directly with people.
“don’t start,” shoko groans, piecing together the not so subtle mystery.
you frown, “i didn’t even say anything!” you whine even more, glaring at your ice cream. your pretty camera sits on the table beside you, collecting dust when you should be photographing this event. “I just screwed myself over,” your tongue laps at the dripping ice cream.
“agreed.”
your glare snaps to your friend, to which she brushes off with a shrug.
“you should’ve taken those photos,” she starts.
“I know…”
“then you would’ve made your editor happy,”
“I know…”
“and then you wouldn’t have to do this event.”
“I know.”
“and you’d have more weird pictures of coach toji.”
your heart drops. eyes snapping to shoko. “what?!”
shoko goes mute. suddenly realizing what she said. “nothing.”
“pictures?” you repeat, “I have weird pictures of the coach?? I don’t—why would you even say that??“ you’re not subtle at all. and shoko feels guilty at your horrible lying skills, but still…she confesses…
“you uploaded photos to your drive, when we’d study together,” she tries to hold in her laugh as heat crawls up your neck, “like more than once.”
you glance away, eyes flicking over your camera, “that’s it?”
shoko raises a brow. “yeah…what do you mean?”
you look back, “like that’s how you know, it’s not like you heard from someone else or anything?”
shoko shakes her head, “no, who else would know?”
your cheeks are burning at this point, and it was written all over your face now. the realization hit shoko in seconds. “no…” you’re silent. “does the coach know about your photos?”
you don’t want to make eye contact.
“how?!!”
even though it happened days ago, why is it now starting to feel even more embarrassing. maybe because of your cool headed friends reaction— “it was an accident.”
“how did he find out though?” shoko pushes.
you cringe, “well…” you swallow, “when I first spoke to him, remember…” shoko nods, “I let him use my camera because he was interested.” you pause, reliving the humiliation all over again. “then he kept swiping to see the pics, and just found them…” your hands slap your face, “that’s not bad!”
shoko is getting second hand embarrassment, “dude.”
“STOP IM GONNA KILL MYSELF!!” you cry out, humiliation seeping from your pores.
shoko is trying not to laugh, but it’s quite hard not too, especially when you’re groaning like that. “what was his reaction?”
“I obviously said it was an accident, and he was like whatever and seemed fine,” you explain quickly, trying to cool the situation. “It’s not bad!”
“okay okay!!” shoko laughs, trying to calm your reaction. however, shoko knows about your huge crush, what she didn’t know is about a deal her two friends made with you. heck, she didn’t even know that you interacted with them. not until those two men are standing directly behind you, sweaty and pissed. “what the hell—“
“I guess you don’t know how to keep your word,” geto spits, bag dropping aggressively on the bench beside you.
you jump, then, your eyes flick over your shoulder, immediately rolling them when you see them. you turn back to shoko.
geto snaps. “there wasn’t a single photo of us!”
“not my problem,” you scoff, attitude returning in seconds, shoko completely used to it. but she’s shocked that you know gojo and geto. “not like you guys even played well.”
gojo’s vein bulges, “we played fucking good, we didn’t lose!”
“you didn’t win,” you shrug, cold.
that’s when gojo and geto both glance up at shoko. shock crossing their expressions. “you know her?!” they both point down at you.
shoko raises a brow, “she’s my friend.”
“she’s a bitch—“ geto spits, just to receive the worst glare of his life from you, but he just rolls his eyes. “how the fuck do you know each other?”
“I just told you she’s my friend. you’re the ones that screwed her over.” shoko takes your side.
gojo gasps, “we didn’t screw her over! she screwed us over! you saw the paper this week—not a single highlight!”
you glance at shoko, ignoring the men behind you, “how do you know them?”
“we went to high school together,” shoko throws with a bored wave.
frustrated, geto straddles the bench facing you, his hand falls on top of your camera, immediately making you snap your attention to him.
“hey—“
“listen. our deal was that you get access and then we get photos, you didn’t finish your job,” he keeps a grip on your camera. shoko frowns.
“you guys didn’t give me access—i got like ten minutes before the match, then I couldn’t even go in during halftime where everyone was pissed, so what’s the point?” you snap, getting in his face.
“the point is that has nothing to do with me!” geto shouts, your eyes pierce his in two, but neither of you back down.
“it literally does though!”
“guys,” shoko and gojo attempt at intervening, but neither of you will back down. especially when geto won’t let go of your camera.
“let go,” you seethe, hand on the camera as geto flexes, grip strengthening around it.
your heart pounds against your chest, the hot spring sun beats over the four of you, sweat building on your neck while geto scoffs. “you better take those photos of us this week—“
“or what?” you glare, “are you seriously threatening me?” you were dripping with ego and confidence, except for the fact that your eyes kept darting to your camera, your poor, expensive, beautiful camera—
“is this your first time being threatened—“
“the fuck.”
the deep, intimidating voice breaks the argument in seconds. geto’s eyes widen as he feels the gravity taken away from him and being lifted off the seat. the collar of his jersey tightens around none other than toji’s brutal grip.
your eyes break into hearts, grasping your camera before it clatters back on the table, glancing up to see geto gripping his coach’s forearm.
“since when do you fucking shout at girls. you?!” toji barks, baffled. sukuna sure, gojo maybe, but geto?!
“I wasn’t fucking shouting, we were talking,” geto tsks, neck red from embarrassment.
toji shoves him back. geto slams on the bench. you hadn’t realized it but they all looked like they just finished practice, geto and gojo both still in practice uniforms and duffle bags, and coach toji wearing his usual black cargos, and that compression shirt that left nothing to the imagination.
geto scowls, rubbing his back in pain.
“you were shouting, that’s why i came over—“
“she was shouting at me!”
“so what!?”
the table is quiet. a few passerby’s glance over before quickly walking away. it isn’t a shock to know how unbelievably hot your face is right now. especially when coach toji continues his stern lecture to geto.
“you’re defending some girl that can’t keep her word, mind you,” geto mutters, flashing you a glare—his breath catches. you’re not even looking at him!! shoko stifles another laugh along with gojo, because you really were, truly, unbelievable.
how can you look at someone like that?!? like he’s some idol?! him! a musty ass college coach?!
but none of it mattered, not when toji’s attention shifts to you!!! a warm heat floods between your legs, as your lips part. then suddenly, you glance away…
“I actually did shout too…” you confess, taking accountability. “and kinda screwed them over.”
gojo, geto, and shoko, stare at you in shock.
toji sighs, like some grown ass man (which he is), his hand settles on his hip as the other scratches his hair like he’s surrounded by immature children and figuring out what the fuck to do with you all. so he decides to confess too…
“i told security not to allow any outsiders.”
your heart drops.
“including you.”
oh shit.
the three audience members immediately glance at you, and what none of them, not a single one, expected, is to suddenly see the your eyes tear up.
toji felt a sharp twist in his gut, eyes widening for a moment, before sighing. “it wasn’t personal.”
your throat feels dry, unable to look away until now. a tear hits your camera. “how is that not personal,” you whisper, bottom lip trembling.
shoko’s brows pinch in hurt, at least out of everyone, she knows how much and how long you’ve liked this man. and then sulking and now— she knows you’re absolutely shattered.
“I needed the team to focus, and you’re press,” he states like some cold fact, and that hurt even more.
your grip tightens on the camera. “but…” your not a stranger anymore…. but you can’t get the words out…your heart pounds loudly in your ears, the heat surrounding you felt suffocating, and your head was growing dizzier by the second. and the only thing spinning in your mind was how fucking embarrassing this is.
“don’t be upset.”
you manage a small nod, though another tear falls on the camera, and your body freezes. “how can i not be upset?” your small voice catches toji off guard.
you’re standing up, eyes hot with tears, walking past the esteemed coach.
“wait,” he catches your wrist, “if you have something to say don’t just run away.”
you’re fuming, your pretty chest rises and falls, the disappointment turning into built up anger, “I don’t have anything to say right now, and it’s stupid—“ your hand twists in his grip. “let go.”
he does.
you’re practically heaving, tempted to turn away, especially when the dryness in your throat gets worse. the stinging behind your eyes burns like hell as you try to rip your gaze away from the towering man. you really are stupid…
toji wets his lip, head tilting as if disinterested, but the cooling in his chest says otherwise. why does he have a weak spot for women?
“we can talk.”
his words hang in the air. a silent, open invitation for her. it’s a clear sign of his guilt for making this cute college girl cry. he was too blunt, forgetting she isn’t one of his boys.
your hand comes up to the bridge of your nose, quietly recentering yourself as this older coach watches. your shoulders rise with a deep exhale, then inhale.
pull yourself together…
you nod. cute.
you swallow the embarrassing lump in your throat, clearing your throat. “can we talk while walking…I have to work,” your usual clipped tone used for everyone except him, comes out, but he can hear the slight shakiness.
“sure.”
gojo, geto, and shoko are left in utter shock. it’s not until you and toji completely disappear into the crowd, do they slowly exchange looks.
“what…”
“the fuck,” geto finishes shoko’s sentence.
gojo stares baffled, “did we just set them up?!”
geto’s brow jumps up, “why is he always saving her like some knight?? and he was the one that screwed us all over!!”
gojo shakes his head in agreement, “nah for real, what the hell, blaming us but it’s all him.”
geto slouches back in the picnic table, rolling his eyes. “still,” he tsks, “she didn’t have to be so bitchy and not take our pictures. isn’t it her fucking job—“
“hey!”
“ow!” geto feels a slap upside the head from brunette, her eyes harsh. “what the hell!”
“don’t call girls bitches what’s wrong with you?!” shoko huffs, baffled by geto’s attitude.
gojo snickers beside the man, “he’s been like this since he met her.”
“I haven’t,” he grits, rolling his eyes at the thought of you. “she’s just a—she just gets on my nerves.”
“really because she reminds me of you,” shoko cuts him off. geto’s eyes widen, as gojo breaks into a loud laugh.
“WHAT?!”
“oh god BAHAHA she does!” gojo’s obnoxious laugh sounds like knives stabbing his ears.
shoko hums, “she has that rbf look, intimidating, very blunt, but also so cute with her friends.”
“cute?” geto frowns.
gojo smiles, “it comes out when you’re hanging out with ussss.” gojo and shoko dramatically strike a cute pose. geto tsks.
the campus was packed with students and faculty roaming to booths and small events. it was the university’s 102nd anniversary, and as memorable as it is for the students to enjoy the activities during this nice spring day, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.
not only did your editor scream at you all week, still pissed about the shit photos you took during the match, he also threatened removal if you didn’t take good photos during this event. and now, after sulking with shoko, then procrastinating some more, you decided you’d be able to take such fanatic pictures while your idol and crush trails beside you….sure.
toji lets out another sigh, hands in his pockets as he stands to your left watching you snap some shots of laughing students beside a booth.
“it’s not a big deal,” you mutter, behind the camera. toji notices the twitch in your fingers. “I overreacted, so it’s whatever.”
toji wets his lip, “sukuna and a couple others jus’ get jumpy with cameras.”
you hum, looking at the photos you just took. “I understand.”
“I didn’t know about this deal you did with geto,” toji admits, hand instinctively coming to your waist and guiding you away from some unaware boys shouting and laughing. your cheeks flush, stepping away from his hand. toji notices. “we didn’t have a good game anyways.”
“I know, so it whatever. not a big deal,” you sigh, heat crawling up your neck. this is so embarrassing, so embarrassing! ugh you really don’t know how to keep a cool head at all when it comes to this coach. you overreacted during the match, then blamed geto for screwing you over, then almost cried because the coach locked you out on purpose, and now—
“I feel bad.”
your heart stops.
toji glances at your manicured nails holding your camera, your cute necklaces dangling on your exposed chest, cleavage glistening from the heat. but then his eyes flick up, and you’re staring at him like he’s holding the entire world.
“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” his voice is softer, gentler, nothing like how you’ve heard him for months, shouting, harsh. your stomach heats up, face stinging.
his hand, unexpectedly, comes up, feeling your hair between his fingers. “you work hard, and all your pictures come out so nice…” the compliment hits your heart. “but I couldn’t risk the boys getting distracted.”
your face suddenly twists, lips pursing and jutting out just a bit, your brows pinch. your dewy makeup makes you look like a fucking doll, he thinks. “I was jus’ gonna take photos in the corner, not interview them,” you reply harshly.
“you saw how they are when they talk to you,” he cuts in. your brow quirks, noticing his sharp inhale. “sweetheart, you’re hot.”
your face bursts into flames, pupils turning to literal swirls, and brain getting fried in seconds.
what?!
your reaction was priceless. toji controls his smirk, thumb brushing your adorable cheek, glancing at your glossy lips then your eyes. “I know you’re a professional, but most of those boys aren’t, y’ understand?”
you nod, cheeks sizzling, you’re surprised his thumb isn’t burning.
“so you see why I couldn’t allow you in the locker room then, and i won’t next time,” he watches you nod again. god, you’re fucking precious.
then, your tongue wets your bottom lip before speaking… “are they the only ones that would’ve been distracted?”
shit. can a grown man really pop a boner that fast?
toji’s chest heats up, glancing between your pretty eyes filled with hope. this isn’t the first time a younger girl has crushed on him, and it also isn’t the first time he’s nice to one. but what really got him, is the way you’re maintaining eye contact, almost afraid to look away, and you’re holding your ground against him.
“no,” he admits, “they’re not the only ones.”
oh. your lips curve into a smile toji hasn’t seen before, and his hand flexes in response. you look like you’re going to eat him alive right there, and he’d let you, no questions asked—
“that’s good to hear,” you pull away. you touch your heated cheek with the back of your hand, wetting your lip as you glance over the coach’s flushed face. “your cheeks are red.”
what?! his eyes bulge, catching you off guard as you break into a loud laugh.
“tch,” he looks away, his own hand rubbing down his face. it really is burning out here. but even so, his emerald eyes look through his fingers at this pretty college girl laughing at him and he doesn’t know why his chest warms at the sight.
“I can buy you ice cream. I feel bad now that you had to explain yourself when I was just being the unprofessional one,” you start, already leading him to the nearest ice cream booth.
your camera hangs over your shoulder as you point to your favorite flavor than glance up at him, he points at the cookies n cream. “oh! I love cookies n cream,” you say, reaching for your phone to pay.
ding.
your eyes widen as toji pays instead.
“wha—it was supposed to be my treat, man,” you huff, accepting the cone he gives you, hand on your lower back as he guides you away from the booth. neither of you batting an eye to the multiple people gawking at the renowned coach of their soccer team, walking around with the hot, rude, student photographer.
“as if I’d let you pay,” he snorts.
your brows pinch as you take a lick of your ice cream, the cool sensation leveling your body temperature. your eyes narrow at him as he enjoys his ice cream, grateful to have something that cools the heat building up under his skin. “so not fair,” you mutter.
“how come?”
the two of you walk across the quad, sun still beating down.
“I wanted to use it as an apology,” you say, “I said that.”
“you don’t need to apologize,” he shrugs, casual, unbothered. you huff again. this time toji smiles, scar twitching up. “you can pay next time.”
your heart skips a beat, stomach doing a stupid flip.
“….next time.”
toji catches the smile behind your cone, his eyes trailing over the ice cream coating your tongue, your pretty hand wrapped around the waffle as your bracelets clank around your wrists.
“there’s other things you need to apologize for,” he coolly says, finding a bench and dropping his weight, eyeing you as you sit close beside him. unashamed.
your brow quirks, eyes narrowing, full body facing him, “what other things?”
toji shrugs, “we can talk about it next time.”
“but I can’t just be left in suspense, that’ll give me anxiety?!”
toji snorts, loud. his big tongue is finishing the ice cream so quick he’s already eating the cone. “don’t be anxious,” he says with his mouth full.
you tsk, rolling your eyes, and you don’t notice the twinkle in the older coach’s eyes. he can definitely see geto’s point about your attitude, but if he leans over—
your eyes go wide. stomach flipping.
he takes a bold bite of your ice cream, emerald eyes shut, and thick lashes kissing his flushed cheeks. your heart feels like it’ll break from your ribs, then, he opens his eyes. he doesn’t pull away yet, instead his tongue cleans his lips, humming in low delight. the heat around you wasn’t helping your own body temperature as it skyrockets.
“taste’s sweeter than mine,” his voice his huskier than before, catching you by surprise, and the heat pools between your legs.
“i—“ you can’t even form words! your eyes won’t tear away from his lips, and your chest is moving erratically because he’s so close.
“do you want a taste of mine. I took a bite without asking yo—“
his words cut the minute your lips press against his.
shock prevents him from reacting, eyes going wide. you gave in so quick, sure he was teasing, but still. he could feel the certainty in your kiss, along with the warmth, and anxiety. after a long ten seconds you pull away—
you pant against his lips, chest rising and falling, brain scrambled. “i jus’…” your heart is beating loudly in your ears. mind trying to keep up with what your body just did. you kissed him. you kissed the coach. the one you’ve been idolizing and photographing for months—
“we can do it again.” his free hand tilts your chin up, lips hovering over yours again. his breath is warm. “kiss me.”
you do.
this time you’re a little bolder. your lips connect with his, soft again, sucking his bottom lip, skillfully. slowly. he brushes your jaw with his thumb, humming in delight just like he did with the ice cream. but the sound goes straight to your core. completely unbothered by the rowdiness of the uni day activities around you. your free hand rests on his thigh, leaning more into the kiss.
“open,” you murmur against his lips. you can feel the the shit-eating smirk that breaks his face, groaning just low enough to make the heat furiously spread under your skin.
then, his lips part.
his tongue immediately connects with yours. caressing the wet muscle. he tastes the ice cream, delving a little more. it was just so easy taking control, and your little whines are too sweet for him to stop. his jaw opens wider, taking the lead as you follow. his hand cups the side of your face, unexpectedly possessive, ignoring the alarms sounding off in his head.
you had a crush, you’re fucking adorable, and you kissed him. plus, you make these cute sounds when he shoves his tongue against yours, thumb pressing into your cheek. how could he resist?
your grip against his thigh tightens, his back is pressed fully against the bench, while you were practically leaning over him, trying to swallow him whole.
“breathe,” he mutters, lips hovering close, waiting for you to inhale. his scar quirks up, you’re so cute. his thumb brushes your cheekbone again, eyes glancing between your fluttering lashes. “if we keep kissing, I’ll have a problem.”
your face burns, eyes darting down to the tent pressing up near your hand. and unlike toji, you let your second ice cream of the day melt and fall to the ground. you were a mess. you carefully lean back in your seat, the sudden space between you allowing you to take another deep breath. being near coach toji is intoxicating. it’s not that you didn’t feel like yourself, but you definitely throw all common sense out the door when he’s in front of you.
“are you staying to see the booths and stuff?” you clear your throat, trying to ease your erratic heartbeat.
toji finds it cute. his hand once cupping your face, slides down to brush the hair off your shoulder, fingers brushing the multiple earrings that dangle from your piercings. you’re much more stylish than he is…your accessories, the cute tank top that hugs your breasts, and embroidered low rise flared jeans.
“nah, gotta drive back home so i can take my son to practice.”
toji eases, not a single thing can bother him. it was a routine, the subtle throw away line about having a son that scared off many young women, or had them wanting a one night stand with the older dilf. so his eyes flick over you, the second he finishes his sentence.
your freeze.
your blood runs cold, eyes flicking down to his ring finger.
even if you’re looking, you know he isn’t married. you know. you’ve been photographing him for months, and not a single time have you ever seen him daunt a ring on his finger.
“there’s no one waiting for him at home?” you question, wetting your lip.
toji’s fingers slide from your earrings to the dried ice cream on your chin. “nah, if I’m late he’ll go to his friends house.”
you nod, anxiety slowly dissipating. “how old is he?”
“ten.”
your eyes light up, “my nephew is just a year older, that’s when they get really fun to hang out with,” your voice is so light and sweet, toji has to shove down the weird somersault his stomach does.
“really?” toji is not convinced. “all my son does is give me attitude and bully everything i do.”
you laugh, waving your hand, “yeah they get super opinionated, but it’s funny—trust trust he’s just doing it because you’re an easy target.”
“I’m an easy target.”
you nod, waving a hand again, “your his dad, my brothers and i were the same to our parents.”
brothers? toji doesn’t comment how that peaks his interest, but he naturally asks, “how many siblings do you have?”
“three older brothers,” you nod.
damn….toji hums, that explains your attitude and how you can handle geto’s bitchy moods. what also quietly settles in his mind is how your oldest brother would probably be around his age, considering your nephew is a year older than megumi. is that why you’re easily holding a conversation this long…maybe the age gap isn’t that big then…
“they were so freakin bossy, definitely why i pushed to dorm away from them,” you huff, toji zoning back into your rambling. it was cute watching you talk mindlessly, hands waving making your bracelets clank against each other. the sweat glistened across your skin, making you look eternal, which is amusing since you’re just talking.
but still, toji is the one to lean up this time. his hand settling on your waist as a anchor and he presses a firm kiss to your warm cheek.
your glossy lips part in shock, heart stuttering again. unbothered, toji casually stands up, towering over you as his hand gently settles atop your head. “i have’ta get going, but I’ll see you next week for the match. I’ll also let em know you can come in before and after the game, but not during halftime. okay?”
you nod.
“I’ll see ya’ sweetheart.”
and with a wink, he solidifies the fourth arrow straight through your heart.
—
it was very likely that your entire week looked like sunshine and rainbows, all because you had a full on make out session with your idol on a park bench. you couldn’t bring yourself to care much about anything else—well except for your job. you had to scramble to get photos after toji left, afraid of staying on your editor’s bad side.
luckily you pulled through, and convinced him to keep you on for the semi final match this coming weekend.
which leads you to your current blissful state. watching toji speak to the team in the locker rooms. unlike last time, you grabbed different shots, smiling every time toji glanced at the camera, but frowning any time any of the other boys looked.
“surprise surprise, couldn’t stay away too long,” gojo coo’s after the team breaks to finish changing.
“don’t bother me or I won’t take photos of you,” you throw, eyes flicking up at the tall man.
gojo pouts, “but I’m just talking to you,” his words drag.
geto is scowling a few feet away, jaw tightening and relaxing, until he finally comes up to you. your attitude shifts, eyes narrowing up. geto holds eye contact, chest rising with a subtle inhale. but once he exhales, his shoulders ease, and his eyes close, the fakest smile you’ve ever seen graces his naturally attractive features.
“I’m looking forward to seeing your photos after the game.”
your lips purse, brow quirking. “yeah…”
geto leaves. shortly after, the team gets called out. gojo utters the same line geto had just said, but much more cheerfully, all while toji walks up to you. brow furrowing at the two athletes as they walk towards the exit.
“they still bothering you?”
your eyes light up the moment you see him. “s’ fine,” your pretty lips pull into an easy smile, unexpectedly warming the coach’s heart. is it that easy to smile because of him?
“I’ll tell them to fuck off again,” his voice is naturally deep, hand subconsciously roaming up to the strap of your camera.
you smile, “okay.”
god, you’re really cute. his hand cups your cheek, leaning down and easily locking lips with you.
you’re immediately caught off guard, but his hand is so firm on your cheek, you just melt. your lashes flutter shut, leaning in more. he’s so big and tall. your cheeks sting, humming against his lips, trying to fight off the butterflies in your stomach. but it’s worse when he pulls away, and your heart leaps into your throat as he brushes his rough thumb against your lip, dragging the spit across the plumpness.
“I’ll c’ya after.” he winks.
you barely feel your feet when you step back out onto the field. your camera in hand, strap tight around your neck, everything exactly where it should be, and still, your entire body is giddy.
toji….toji toji toji—
you press your lips together, trying to fight it down, but it’s useless. your mouth keeps twitching, threatening to break into a smile and you can’t help it! he kissed you. twice now! like it was nothing—
you snap a shot.
sukuna’s first goal. the team and stadium erupts, and you’re already capturing it, body moving before your thoughts can catch up. you don’t need your editor screaming at you this time, so you shift angles, crouch lower, shoot through. geto lines up for a penalty shot, and you catch that too. the strike, the follow-through, and the way the net snaps back as the ball hits. you don’t miss a second of it.
but…inevitably…your lens drifts…to him. you can’t help it!
toji’s on the sidelines, where he always is. his sleeves are pushed up again, pacing, shouting, running a hand through his hair. you catch the flex of his arm, his biceps bulge and you feel heat pooling between your legs. you catch the drag of his palm across his broad huge chest, the set of his jaw when gojo almost tackles into another player.
you shouldn’t be taking this many photos of him. you know that, but you take them anyway. your chest feels tight with every picture, cheeks still burning, and your smile impossible to get rid of.
halftime comes and goes, and you don’t even try to get into the locker room this time. instead, you linger with the rest of the press, nodding along to conversations, camera hanging loose in your hands. you don’t care. not really. not when your mind keeps replaying it—his hand on your face, the way he looked at you after, the wink.
the second half starts and you’re back in position immediately. getting more action shots of the players—ugh but you keep stealing other moments too…small unnecessary ones. his biceps when he folds his arms. the scratch of his chest. the tilt of his head as he watches the field.
your thoughts don’t stop. why did he kiss you? why did he kiss you again? what is that supposed to mean? is he going to kiss you again??
the spiral doesn’t fully come to an end until the pitch breaks out into celebration. the team is off to the finals!
managers and the rest of the team flood the pitch as the stadium breaks out. you do your best to get the best shots of the team together, and you stay after to capture them talking to journalists, and press. unaware of the coach that slips away.
you follow the team and a couple managers back to the locker room as they continue celebrating. you can’t help the smile about how happy they are, they played well.
“how was the match?” geto corners you quickly.
“good,” you nod casually, fixing your flash. “you guys played really well.”
geto’s brow quirks. that’s nice….his lips purse. “I scored.” he mutters, glancing at the multiple piercings on your ear as you tuck a hair behind it.
“yeah, it was a nice shot,” your eyes flick over your camera before glancing up to meet his eyes, testing, “you wanna see?”
his eyes narrow again, “no.”
he’s quick to ignore your eye roll, as he points over his shoulder. “coach is calling for you.”
you can’t control the way your head whips to geto, then following the direction he’s pointing at. you don’t hesitate, your legs carry you across the locker room, and into the steamed shower room.
your heart hammers against your chest, putting the lens cap back on your camera and carefully sliding it off your shoulder, afraid to step further in until you put it back in your bag.
a single curtain is closed. shower running.
“coach toji?” your voice echos.
there a beat of silence, then…
“that you, sweetheart?”
you flush. controlling the smile that breaks your face as you hum, “yeah.”
the shower is still running, steam collecting in the room. your heart is beating erratically, you barely register anything aside from the fact that coach toji is definitely one hundred percent fully nude just a few feet away. his clothes are laid on his duffle on the bench beside the door.
“sweetheart?”
you jump. “yeah?”
“you gonna come in?”
you blink. again, then once more. then— “WHAT?”
your screech bounces off the tile floors, making you shrink at how loud you are. but it was a normal reaction. he just asked you if you wanted to come in? how else would you react—
“leave your things by my bag,” he doesn’t even react, like what he’s saying is the most casual kind of flirting. the kissing was one thing, but this…
your camera is zipped back in your bag, and in seconds, you’re peeling your panties off standing completely naked in the middle of a shower room. goosebumps break out, necklace and bracelets still on as your nipples harden.
what’re you doing, seriously?
one, this is highly unprofessional (whatever). two, you haven’t even gone a date with this man. and three, w-why would he even ask you to come in?!?! does he like you?! he does—he has too—
your bare feet pad against the steamed tiles until you reach the curtains. your hands won’t stop shaking, face burning hot, and lips parting as you let out a shaky exhale. then, you slowly pull back the curtains—
“come in before someone sees you,” is what you hear just as you’re being dragged into the steaming water, curtain pulled closed behind you.
the steam wraps around your skin instantly, thick and suffocating. your pretty nipples perk up in seconds. and standing right in front of you is the 6’5 two hundred pound man. water cascading down his body in slow, steady streams. you don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until your chest tightens, and your hands hover close to his forearm.
you’re so close.
your gaze is eye level with his broad solid chest, rising and falling slow and controlled like none of this affects him. like you standing in front of him naked is something he expected. but your too dazed to care. especially when you follow the droplets sliding over his muscles, catching the shallow lines as you continue going lower, and lower. the heat pools more obviously between your legs as you see the thick patch of dark coarse hair…then you see it.
your face burns hotter, stomach flipping hard making you even dizzier.
his cock twitches under your gaze. your knees almost buckle just at the sight. it’s huge. you have to suppress a whine, lashes fluttering as you feel a strong hand cup your chin.
“say hi first,” his voice is unbelievably deep, tearing your gaze away from the monster between his legs. his dark forest green eyes sink into you.
“hi.”
shit. he bites back a groan, eyes trailing down your naked body. nipples already perky and standing all pretty for him. his hand comes up, cupping the side of your face as he leans down, lips colliding with yours.
you whine immediately. your lips move together, tongues colliding as your hands slide up his muscular chest, feeling the deep ridges of his abs as he holds the side of your face, dominating the kiss.
it was overwhelming, the shower box, his body heat, his cock touching your thigh, it was all making you dizzy in the best ways possible. he pulls away, letting you catch your breath, but he stays close, brushing his lips over yours like it’s not enough. because it isn’t.
“did anyone see you come in?” he husks, hand still cradling your face as the other brushes your naked waist, pulling you closer. your skin is so soft under his palm.
“no,” you shake your head adorably, tongue poking out to wet your lip, “I don’t think so.”
the older coach hums, his hands freely roaming your side as he nudges your nose with his. “good,” is all he adds before he resumes the heated make out.
your tongues collide and caress, jaw falling slack as you moan a little louder when he grips your ass. groaning into your lip when your arms lock around his shoulders, wet chest pressing against his. you were such a sweet tasting girl.
his hand nudges your thigh. “jump.”
you gasp when he easily picks you up, back already pressed against the tiled wall. the hot water cascades down his back as he continues kissing you. “were you mad at me?”
you pull away, breath hot as you glance at his features. he’s so handsome, your hand cups his face, pushing his drenched raven hair back. “why would I mad?”
“because I kept ya out during halftime.”
you shake your head, lips curving as you trace his wet eyebrows, chest rising and falling. “no,” you drawl, wetting your glossy lips again. “I was jus’ confused about how much you kiss me.”
his scar tugs up, biting back a smirk threatening to break free. “you kissed me first.”
“that one time.”
“you started it,” he leans close, lips brushing yours, “so you can’t blame me for getting hooked.” his eyes are lidded. “it’s really hard for me to break bad habits.”
this time you kiss me.
you’re so unbelievably hungry for this man’s affection, you can ignore all the blaring red light going off in your head. he’s so hot, he’s so big, and he’s so fucking sexy! your mind has been completely and utterly fried and you don’t care.
“fuck, you’re dripping,” toji husks, his finger collecting your juices from your pussy, groaning at how turned you are. “kissing me makes ya feel that good? your cunt always dripping like a fountain?”
“yeah-aah—“ your lips part as he shoves a finger inside. he groans against you, chuckling at the choked whines leaving your pretty lips, your nails dig crescents along his shoulder.
his lips trail down your neck, tongue flattening against the wet skin and licking until you squirm a cute whimper. his smirk is impossible to hold back. he sucks a dark bruise as another finger pushes in your fluttering hole.
“c-coach—“ you gasp, lips so wet from spit. you try to look down at his fingers pistoning inside you. every muscle on his body flexing, keeping you up like you weigh nothing, while fingering you against the little shower wall. “fu-fuck, I’m gonna—cu-uhm—“
it really is too much for your obsessed brain.
coach toji’s fingers are inside you. he’s kissing you like he’s hasn’t pleasured a woman in years. and his groans are going straight to your pussy—
“I wan’…coach—“ your whine drawls a little longer, thighs shaking, and arms locking around him, head falling to neck.
the older man chuckles close to your ear, voice deep and husky as you fall apart, in his arms. hugging him like he’s your savior. his fingers curl, slowly pumping you through your orgasm. “that was quick. my baby hasn’t cum in awhile?” he says as a matter of a fact, but you just hug him closer, lips pulling away to trail kisses up his neck. your fingers coarse through the back of his head, grasping them as you kiss the corner of his mouth.
“it’s b’cause of you, toji.” you kiss his scar, panting as he pulls his fingers out and lifts you up suddenly, hooking his arm under your knee.
“you want a good fucking princess?”
you nod frantically, cheeks dewy and stinging, as you glance over his face then his chest, then you feel his cock between your slick folds.
“it’s a big stretch,” he mutters against your lips. “you saw.”
you nod, nervous stirring at the way he’s preparing you. but you don’t break away. you doubt you physically can, when your mind is only screaming his name over and over.
“I can take it, coach,” you nod, determined.
“you’re so fucking cute,” he snorts, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he kisses your lips in quiet reassurance. “ever take a cock this big?”
you shake your head, water droplets falling from the tips of your hair. your pretty necklaces still wrapped around your neck, all wet and glistening between your perky breasts.
“it’ll hurt,” he strokes himself underneath you, thumb running over his tip multiple times before lining it with your pretty clit and teasing you. “then you’re gonna cry.” you gulp, nodding along. “then you’re gonna tell me to stop—“
“I won’t!”
he snorts. “it’s okay if you do.”
you shake your head, “I won’t I’ll be okay. okay coach? I can take it, I wan’ you inside me. please.”
the tug to his heart is immediate. how can it not be when this cute hot girl is begging him to fuck her? but he can’t even formulate this emotional string that’s tying him to you. the only physical response coming out is this fucking erection that feels like the most painful shit he’s experienced, twitching after he first spoke to you and then again when you kissed him. surely it’s disgusting….an older man like him getting that quickly turned on…
but maybe it was the way he’s only felt this tug in his chest one other time in his life, and even if it didn’t end the way he wanted, he never regretted pursuing his baby mama.
so he’s all in right now.
“deep breath, sweetheart.”
you inhale sharply, just as toji pushes his engorged tip past the tight rim of your pussy, and you suddenly clench—
“shit!—“
your eyes widen, “I don’t feel anything,” you mutter, glancing down to see his ears burning a deep shade of red.
“your cunt squeezed me too early and shoved me out,” he wets his lips, as he crashes his lips against you. “relax, baby,” he husks.
you whine against his dominating mouth, lower body relaxing as he lines up again and the moment you ease up, he snaps his hips in.
“angh!—“
your jaw slacks, and he continues kissing, groaning at the unbelievable tightness that’s squeezing every corner of his tip.
“Mmm so warm, took me in good,” he groans, rocking his hips and grabbing a handle of your ass. “you’re gonna make me feel good?”
you nod, lips connecting with his, it’s messy, teeth clashing, spit mixing.
toji’s guttural groan echos through the shower, bouncing off the tiles as he rocks his hips, going in inch by inch, until he’s finally shoving his entire length deep inside your cunt with one mean thrust.
“fhuck—“ he chokes, jaw slacking as you clamp around him again. “full?”
you nod, brain scrambled as you glance at your tummy, cheeks stinging at the obvious bulge. “keep going,” you pant, securing yourself better as he grunts, pulling out and snapping his hips back.
it was mind numbing, toji holding you up with his strong arms hooked under your knees, hands gripping each ass cheek as he ruts into you like a beast in heat. the squelch and clapping was deafening as it bounced off the walls, the steam enveloping you closer as your whines flow right into his ear.
“nghhh—gettin’ me worked up,” thrust. “when you squeeze me,” thrust. “with this tight.” thrust. “fucking.” thrust. “cunt!”
his massive cock is stretching you in ways you never could’ve imagined. his blunt tip slams into your cervix with every thrust. your thighs shake, eyes filling with unshed tears as your nails dig into his tough skin.
“m’ s-sorry—haah ah coa—ahh! it feels s’ fuhh—fuh’me ple-easee—ahh!” your pretty lips were so glossy, drool coming down as water droplets fall from your pretty breasts with each vicious slam of his hips.
he was unforgiving. and his laugh like groan didn’t help your pussy from fluttering and tightening around his chubby cock. you can feel every thick pulsing vein and ridge. it was numbing your brain to mush. your fingers curled into his hair, tugging as he gives your ass a mean, violent, spank!
“angh!” your eyes bulge, a wave of heat crashing into you.
toji laughs, gripping your ass as he quickens his pace. “admit it,” he husks, voice condensing, and eyes dark with lust. “this is what ya’ wanted.” you’re falling apart around his cock, and he’s not slowing down, even as the tears finally break, making you look even more irresistible. you’re gasping like you can’t breathe. “you always wanted the coach to fuck you. taking those dirty photos of my bulge—nghh!” thrust. “imagining how big my dick is.” thrust. “how big is it baby, tell me.” thrust!
you were fucked dumb.
your face is flushed, eyes glossed over, as you whine like a full blown slut. and even with your two orgasms in a matter of minutes. your mind was still screaming one thing: toji.
“c’mon baby, I know you’re still with me,” he snorts, ears red, and body flushed with sweat as he feels his climax edge closer. “tell me—fuck—how big is it?”
your stupid brain catches his words, and your fingers dig into his neck as you gasp and moan, the stimulation of his massive cock slamming into you was ruining you. mentally and physically. it was humiliating. but still…
“haah—fuh its’ it’s so big— i wan’ you to cum in me! please —wan’ your cum so bad, wanna feel your big fat cock cum inside my pussy toji—ahh!”
anothet sharp spank takes your breath away.
toji is at a loss.
his grunts grew louder and thrusts sloppier, until finally, he gave you one final thrust, and stilled. his ass tightens, body pressing you into the tiled walls, face buried in your neck, and teeth sinking into your shoulder. toji completely unravels in the shower, holding up a pretty college girl that whines so beautifully in his ear he thinks he’d never cum this hard again, but sure enough—
your adorable whine has him rutting shallow thrusts into your pussy, like a fucking dog. his cum pumping out as he continued stuffing you full, purposely milking out ever drop as his dark wet pubes rubbed against your puffy clit.
you both catch your breath. your lashes wet from tears, as the water from the shower head fills the silence. after a moment, toji pulls away from your neck, his lidded eyes, hypnotizing as he stares up at yours.
you don’t know why you suddenly feel shy. your cheeks burn as the emerald irises bore into your own. lips parting, and a gentle hand coming up to his cheek. you brush back the raven hair flattening against his features, smiling softly when his full face comes into view.
and he could’ve sworn you looked like an actual angel at this moment.
your eyes twinkled above, face illuminating in the dark shower, and body glistening like you’re an eternal being.
“toji…” the soft call has his heart doing something it hasn’t done in years. and that has his soft cock twitching inside you. “I’m,” you lean closer, arms wrapping around his shoulder, lips hovering near his, breasts smushed against his chest. your confidence comes back the moment you feel the man lean closer..but you continue. “I hope you don’t think…i wanted to have sex…just because i thought your dick was really big.”
toji blinks.
then he does the worst thing ever.
he laughs.
your cheeks sting, watching his head fall back in loud laughter. your hand flys to your face, embarrassed. “I’m being serious!” you yell.
toji laughs louder, body shaking as he lifts you up, his cock slipping out. he carefully sets your shaky feet down on the wet tile. the height difference returns, making you even more ticked off, your little attitude was oozing out, and his slick cock couldn’t help but twitch against his thigh at your pouting.
god, you’re fucking hot.
he brings your attention back to him. hands cupping your face, tilting your head to look up at him. your brows are pinched together, and lips pulled in a subtle scowl.
toji smirks. “don’t worry, I know you also took pictures of my face.”
you flush, rolling your eyes. “those were accidents.”
“so you just wanted pictures of my dick?”
your eyes widen, “no! i told you they were all accidents.”
toji clicks his tongue, leaning down to your level, making your tummy flip “you’re fucking cute, but let’s not lie to adults.”
“I’m an adult though,” you raise a brow, pushing back, and god if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.
but still, toji’s easygoing smile remains on his playful lips, “it’s embarrassing. i understand,” he softens the blow as your face heats. it was humiliating when he found those pictures, “taking photos of the coach like that. but now’s the time to take some accountability.”
you lick your teeth, eyes boring into him, narrowing. but it’s toji. toji is asking. and you can’t hold back any longer…
you exhale, glancing away, even though he’s still cupping your face. “yeah, obviously I took those photos on purpose,” your eyes meet. “happy?”
water is still running down his shoulders as he keeps your face tucked carefully in his hands like you’re something precious despite the grin threatening to split across his face again.
but then toji smirks. “ecstatic.”
your eyes narrow immediately, “you’re so annoying.”
he huffs another laugh under his breath, quieter this time, thumbs brushing over your heated cheeks. standing this close to him is ridiculous now that the adrenaline’s settling. he’s huge. his broad chest still damp against yours, muscles flexing every time he shifts, towering over you while you stand there completely naked except for the necklaces you’re wearing. the little gold chains glisten under the shower head, delicate against flushed skin, and toji’s eyes flick down to them for a second before returning to your face.
that look in his eyes makes your stomach tighten all over again. he knows he’s not trying to be mocking, or casual like before. it’s fondness.
“those shots were real creative, sweetheart,” he says, voice rougher now. “nice and close too.”
you groan, immediately trying to shove his chest, but he barely moves. “oh my god, can you let it go already?”
“can’t,” he answers easily. “been thinkin’ about it for weeks.”
your face burns hotter. weeks?!
toji watches it happen in real time, watches the attitude crack just enough for embarrassment to slip through, again. and it does something terrible to him. you’re sharp with everyone else—cool, hard to impress. he’s seen it. seen the way you brush off gojo and geto without a second thought. but with him? you melt.
even now, glaring up at him with your brows pulled tight, lips still swollen from kissing, legs trembling from the multiple orgasms, trying so hard to stay irritated while your body keeps betraying you. it’s fucking adorable.
“don’t look at me like that,” you mutter weakly.
“like what?”
“like you know things.”
his grin widens instantly. “but i do know things now.”
what proceeded after was the thirty something year old coach, dropping to his knee and lifting your leg up, burying his face between your legs like a starving man. your lips part in shock.
but still, as toji works your pretty body to another orgasm, tongue shoved inside, cleaning this little pussy up, jaw slack as he gulps down his own cum. your fingers thread through his hair, tugging whenever he’d give your clit a mean rough suck, cheeks hollowing. his hand, grips your ass from behind, squeezing and slapping as he pleased, until you were falling apart.
afterwards, he cleaned you up. this time with some soap. his big hands roamed your body, every crevice and curve, hands massaging your breasts as he had your back pressed to his chest, chuckling when you’d whine. thumbs tugging playfully. hand rubbing between your legs, head tucked in your shoulder as he watches your smaller hands hold his forehead, face hot.
“toji,” you whine, embarrassed, as he teasing a finger against your hole again.
“what,” he smirks, watching your reactions, “I’m jus’ cleaning you up.”
he’s a fucking perv. but still, he teases you through the whole shower, keeping you close to his body and even letting you wash his back, admiring the muscles and ink that decorate his skin.
eventually, he steps out first, keeping you inside so he can grab an extra towel. his own wrapped around his waist.
that was the start of all of it.
three months later….
you and shoko are sitting out in the quad. table covered in assignments and forgotten laptops. all while you explained to shoko how your weekend went.
“no, we definitely got along. megumi is so cute!” you gush about the ten year old, describing how your first meeting went. toji had spoken about you enough to prepare megumi, waiting until the right time to introduce you both.
and now, you’re going to every single one of their soccer games, toji and megumi’s.
and eventually, after another hour passes by. a group of athletes comes walking down the path. covered in sweat, holding their duffles, and behind them is a very hot coach, already breaking into a smile when you jump up.
“toji!”
it was a routine. your arms thrown around his shoulders, as he lifts you up with one hand. zero regard for any pda, as he kisses you deeply. smiling as you hum, pecking him over and over.
“why do you guys look like that?” shoko grimaces, looking at gojo and geto who look far worse than the rest of the team that leave.
geto scowls, glaring at his best friend, “fucking coach overhead him again.”
shoko shakes her head, rolling her eyes, at the white haired idiot. “you need to stop—“
“it’s been three months and she’s not over that old man?!”
“he’s not even that old!” shoko defends.
but gojo scowls harder, glancing over his shoulder at you laughing and talking, hands animated, like the man in front of you was holding the world. “it’s always the mean girls.”
shoko frowns, “you’re messed up in the head.”
but even geto narrows his eyes when toji wraps a possessive arm around you, glaring up at the two players.
it was clear as day.
you’re his.
a/n: this was LOONG overdue, mb guys!!! but i hope you all enjoyed it!!! ahhhh i love coach toji sososososo much—like its a serious problem, i cant make reader behave normally when its toji, like she has to be obsessed with himmm
anyways, the next oneshot will def be the frat gojo fic! possibly thinking of frat geto after this oneshot too bc i put in some little easter eggs about how they both kinda lean into mean girls so stay tuned! — (divider by @/strangergraphics)
synopsis: You die completely at random and wake up in the manhwa you were reading… as the villainous wife of the Duke of the North, no less. The same woman who spent the last six months giving her husband the cold shoulder, ruining their marriage, and basically speedrunning her own execution.
Now you have exactly one job: fix this disaster of a relationship before your husband decides to finish what the original plot started.
a\n: longest fic i’ve written so far. nearly lost my mind, almost scrapped it entirely, questioned every life choice that led me here, but somehow, against all odds… it’s done. so glad its over LOL
You died while reading a manhwa.
One moment you were curled up in bed at 3 a.m., a blanket pulled up to your chin, the only light in your dark room coming from your phone screen. Your eyes were glued to the latest chapter of The Duke’s Black Heart, thumb hovering over the final panel as frustration and reluctant longing twisted in your chest. The illustration was breathtakingly brutal: Duke Ryomen Sukuna standing tall amid swirling snow, pink hair tousled by the wind, crimson eyes empty of mercy, black tattoos stark against his skin as he looked down at the broken body of his wife.
The page loaded one last time. The panel filled your screen. Then your vision blurred, the room spun violently, and everything went black. No pain. No final breath. Just sudden, heavy nothing.
And then you woke up somewhere else.
Cold air rushes into your lungs, sharp and biting. Your eyes flutter open slowly, lashes feeling unusually heavy. You’re lying in a massive four-poster bed, the canopy above you made of thick crimson velvet that drapes down like heavy curtains. The silk sheets beneath you are cool and slippery against your skin in a way that feels far too expensive, far too unfamiliar. Thick blankets weighted with fur press down on your body, carrying a faint scent of woodsmoke and aged iron. Your limbs feel wrong — too slender, too delicate. When you lift your hands, they are smaller, with smooth palms and perfectly manicured nails that catch the dim morning light filtering through tall, frost-laced windows.
You push yourself up into a sitting position. The silk nightgown slips off one shoulder. A large, ornately framed mirror stands across the room, reflecting the lavish bedchamber: dark wood furniture, heavy tapestries on the walls, a fireplace crackling faintly in the corner. You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting cold stone that sends a shiver racing up your spine.
You turn toward the mirror.
The face staring back at you is not your own. It is strikingly beautiful in a refined, aristocratic way that feels both alien and intimidating.
You have transmigrated.
You are now the villainess.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna’s wife of exactly six months.
The realization slams into you like ice water. Memories that don’t belong to you flood your mind in vivid, unrelenting flashes. The forced marriage ceremony under the Emperor’s decree. The wedding night where her body had lain stiff and unresponsive beneath his, silent tears tracking down her cheeks as she called him a beast under her breath and swore she would never allow him to touch her again. Six agonizing months of total, deliberate silence: never speaking a single word directly to him, never sharing his table, never sharing his bed. Only curt notes passed through servants, hidden schemes whispered to outsiders, and a cold, hateful distance that grew sharper every day. Sukuna’s contempt had hardened into something lethal.
In the original story, he kills her. Publicly. Brutally. Before the year is out — dragging her into the courtyard and ending her life with the same large, scarred hands you’ve fantasized about for months.
And now I’m her.
Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Panic explodes in your chest, tight and suffocating. Your hands fly up to press against your sternum, feeling the frantic thud of a heart that isn’t supposed to be yours. Cold sweat prickles along your hairline and down your back. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. If I don’t change this right now, he will kill me. I have to win him over — the man I’ve been completely obsessed with — before he decides I’m still that same woman who deserves to die.
The heavy wooden door creaks open. Two maids slip inside, heads bowed low, shoulders hunched like they’re expecting the worst. They carry a tray between them with a pitcher of steaming water, neatly folded linens, and a small bowl of scented oil. Their footsteps are quick but nearly silent on the cold stone floor, as if they’re trying to disturb you as little as possible.
“My Lady,” the older maid says quietly, almost whispering as she carefully sets the tray down on the side table. “We’re here to help you dress. Your usual silks today?”
You swallow and keep your voice soft. “No, not the silks. Something simpler and warmer, please. I’m going down to have breakfast with the Duke in the dining hall.”
The younger maid’s eyes go wide. She almost drops the pitcher, water sloshing dangerously over the rim and dripping onto the floor. “Breakfast… with His Grace?” she blurts, voice cracking with surprise. “In the dining hall?”
The older maid quickly elbows her and forces a nervous smile, though her hands are visibly shaking. “Are you sure, My Lady? He always eats alone. He might not… like it if you show up.”
You nod, sliding your legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor is icy against your bare feet, sending a shiver up your legs. “I’m sure. Please help me get ready.” You pause, then add gently, “And thank you. Both of you.”
The maids go completely still. The younger one stares at you with her mouth slightly open, pitcher forgotten in her hands. The older one blinks rapidly, her hands freezing mid-air above the tray. They exchange a wide-eyed, startled glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. The silence stretches for a long, awkward moment, thick with confusion and unease.
Finally, the older maid clears her throat. “Of course, My Lady. Right away.”
They hesitate for another heartbeat, still stealing uncertain glances at you, before hurrying into motion. Their hands are a little clumsier than usual as they help you out of the nightgown and into a heavy charcoal gown with long sleeves. The soft wool feels warm and comforting against the chill in the air. While they brush out your hair and pin it up in a simple style, they keep darting quick, nervous looks at your reflection in the mirror. The younger maid’s fingers tremble slightly as she works, and the older one’s breathing is a touch too shallow.
They finish dressing you in tense, heavy silence. Once they step back, you thank them again. They both bow deeply, still visibly unsettled, and you step out into the torch-lit corridor. Servants you pass press themselves flat against the walls, whispering frantically the moment your back is turned. Your heart hammers louder with every step toward the grand dining hall.
The massive double doors swing open with a low creak.
There he is.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna sits alone at the head of the long oak table. Pale morning light filters through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. Loose strands of pink hair have escaped their tie and fall across his forehead. His dark tunic stretches tight over broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, the collar open just enough to reveal the edges of intricate black tattoos that swirl across his collarbones and down his arms. Crimson eyes are narrowed in concentration as he cuts into a thick slab of meat with slow, deliberate strokes of his knife. Old scars mark the visible skin of his neck and the backs of his large, calloused hands. He radiates raw, quiet danger — the kind that makes the air feel heavier. This is the man you’ve spent months fantasizing about, the one whose every appearance in the manhwa made your pulse race.
You walk straight to the chair on his right — the seat that has stayed empty for the entire six months of your marriage — and sit down.
His knife stops mid-cut.
The silence is immediate and suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire.
Sukuna’s crimson gaze lifts slowly. It locks onto you with raw disbelief and burning disgust. His jaw clenches, the scar along his cheek tightening. For a long moment he simply stares, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re real or some new form of insult.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is low and rough, laced with irritation.
You swallow hard, hands trembling under the table. You force a small, nervous smile and say softly, “Good morning, husband. I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together for once.”
The words hang in the air.
Sukuna’s expression darkens. He sets the knife down with a sharp clink that echoes through the hall. Slowly he rises to his full height, towering over you — tall, broad-chested, every inch the warlord who has killed without hesitation. The look he gives you is ice-cold.
“You thought it would be nice?” His voice is low, cold, and dripping with contempt. “Six fucking months you couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me… and now you suddenly decide to play house?”
He pushes the chair back with a harsh scrape and rises to his full height, towering over you. His large hand clenches so tightly around the back of the chair that the wood groans in protest.
“Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”
Without another word, he turns sharply on his heel. His cloak snaps behind him like a whip as he stalks out of the hall. The heavy doors slam shut with a deafening boom that echoes through the room and makes the silverware rattle on the table.
You’re left completely alone at the long table, staring at his abandoned plate as the food rapidly cools. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.
This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
But you don’t run. You pick up your fork with still-shaking fingers, take a small bite of the now-lukewarm food, and force yourself to swallow. A heavy, determined weight settles in your stomach alongside the food.
The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of nervous energy. You moved carefully through the castle, speaking softly to the servants, thanking them for small things, and trying not to overwhelm anyone with your sudden change in behavior. Every time someone flinched or stared too long, your stomach twisted. You knew they were waiting for the old you to snap back into place.
By mid-afternoon the light outside had shifted to a softer gold, and the castle felt a little less oppressive. You decided it was time to try something more direct.
You found one of the kitchen maids and asked her to prepare a simple tray — strong black tea, warm bread, and a few slices of roasted meat. These were the things you remembered him enjoying in the manhwa, the small details you’d clung to while reading late at night. Nothing too elaborate. When the tray was ready, you took it yourself, ignoring the wide-eyed, startled looks from the staff as you carried it down the long corridor toward Sukuna’s private study. Your heart beat faster with every step.
Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to climb out of your throat. Two guards outside the heavy double doors stared at you in open confusion but didn’t stop you. You paused for a second, took a steadying breath, and knocked once.
A gruff “Come in” came from inside.
You pushed the door open and stepped into the study.
The room was exactly the kind of place you’d pictured him in — tall shelves lined with old books and rolled scrolls, a massive oak desk covered in maps and scattered letters, weapons mounted neatly on one wall. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the air with the faint smell of smoke and polished leather. Sukuna sat behind the desk, quill in hand, pink hair tied back messily with a few loose strands falling forward. He didn’t look up right away, focused on whatever he was writing.
Then his crimson eyes flicked up.
The moment they landed on you holding the tray, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His expression shifted from irritation to pure suspicion in a heartbeat.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low and flat, like he was already tired of whatever game he thought you were playing.
You stepped further inside and carefully set the tray down on the edge of his desk, trying not to let your hands shake too obviously. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast,” you said quietly. “So I brought some tea and a few things. It’s nothing fancy. I just thought… maybe you’d be hungry by now.”
Sukuna leaned back in his chair, studying you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite solve. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. He glanced at the tray, then back at your face.
“You brought me food,” he said slowly, almost like he was testing the words. “You suddenly show up with tea and bread like we’re… what? Friends now?”
He pushed his chair back and stood, circling around the desk with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing right in front of you. He was so tall you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Up close he was even more overwhelming — the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of leather and steel and something darker, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space between you.
You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I know I’ve been terrible to you,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I just… I want to try and do better. That’s all.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out and picked up one of the slices of bread, turning it over in his large hand as if checking it for poison. Then he dropped it back onto the tray with a quiet scoff.
“You want to try,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief and a sharp edge of mockery. “How convenient. Tell me, wife — what exactly changed overnight? Did someone put you up to this?”
His hand suddenly came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly but not harshly, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. His touch was warm, rough from years of fighting, and the closeness made your pulse spike.
“Or are you just scared I’ll finally do what everyone’s been expecting me to do for months?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Your breath caught. Being this close to him — feeling the intensity rolling off him in waves — made fear and something far more complicated twist together in your stomach.
“I’m not here to scheme,” you whispered. “I just don’t want things to keep being like this.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy moment. His thumb brushed once over your jaw, almost absentmindedly, before he let go and stepped back.
“Get out,” he said, the words cold but quieter than you expected. “And take your pity tray with you.”
He didn’t move away any further. He stayed standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes — like he was waiting to see whether you would actually leave… or do something else.
You didn’t argue.
You simply picked up the tray with both hands, gave him a small nod, and left the study without another word. The heavy doors clicked shut behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked back toward your chambers, the tray growing heavier with every step.
Once inside your room, you set the tray down on a side table and closed the door. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
That went badly.
You let out a slow breath, rubbing your hands over your thighs. The memory of Sukuna’s cold stare and dismissive words kept replaying in your head. He hadn’t even touched the food. He’d barely listened.
Of course he didn’t. Months of silence doesn’t just disappear because I brought him tea.
You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the canopy above the bed. The situation felt heavier now. Fixing this relationship was going to be a lot harder than you’d hoped. He clearly still saw you as the same person who had ignored and schemed against him for half a year. And why wouldn’t he?
If you couldn’t turn this around, things were only going to get worse. You didn’t want to think about how the original story ended, but the possibility lingered in the back of your mind anyway.
You sat there for a while, the afternoon light slowly shifting across the room. Eventually you stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the grounds. Your mind kept turning over what to try next. Another small gesture? Giving him more space? Something else entirely?
It was going to take time. A lot of it. And patience you weren’t sure you had.
You sighed quietly and moved away from the window, already thinking about what you could do tomorrow.
The next morning arrived quietly.
You woke earlier than usual, the soft grey light filtering through the tall windows pulling you from a restless sleep. For a few minutes you lay there, staring at the velvet canopy above the bed, thinking about yesterday. The rejections still stung, but you refused to give up after just one bad day.
You got up, washed, and chose a simple but elegant deep-grey gown. After eating a light breakfast alone in your room, you decided on a different approach today. No trays, no forcing your way into his meals. Just quiet presence.
You made your way to the castle’s main library — a spacious, peaceful room lined with tall shelves of books and scrolls. You picked a thick volume on regional history from the shelves and settled into a comfortable chair near the window where the light was good. Not too close to his usual spot, but not hiding either.
About an hour later, the door opened.
Sukuna walked in, still wearing his cloak from whatever business he’d been handling outside. He stopped short when he saw you already there, book open in your lap.
For a brief second his expression flickered with surprise before settling back into that familiar guarded look.
“You’re here too now,” he said, voice flat as he moved toward the large table in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down, spreading some documents in front of him. “Is there anywhere in this castle that’s still mine?”
You closed your book slowly and looked up at him.
“I can leave if you want,” you offered calmly. “I just thought it might be nice to read in here. It’s quiet.”
Sukuna didn’t tell you to go. He leaned back in his chair and studied you for a moment, crimson eyes sharp and assessing.
“You’ve been talking quite a bit these past two days,” he said, tone dry. “More than I’m used to.”
You gave a small, honest shrug. “I know. I’m trying to change that.”
He tapped his fingers once against the table, watching you openly now. “Trying,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “That’s what you keep saying. But I still don’t know why.”
You hesitated, then answered simply, “Because I don’t like how things have been between us. And I think we could be… better. If we tried.”
Sukuna let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back further, still studying you.
“Better,” he repeated. “That’s a bold claim.” He paused, then added quietly, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in pretending.”
But he didn’t ask you to leave.
You stayed in the library for another hour, reading in silence while he worked across from you. He didn’t speak again, but every so often you caught him glancing in your direction — wary, confused, and just a little unsettled.
It wasn’t much.
But it also wasn’t outright rejection.
You stayed in the library for another hour, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of paper and the soft crackle of the fire. You kept your eyes mostly on your book, though you were barely absorbing the words. Every now and then you felt Sukuna’s gaze on you — heavy, searching, and still full of suspicion.
Eventually, he set his quill down with a quiet tap. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he looked at you directly.
“If you’re serious about wanting to fix things,” he said, voice low and even, “then maybe you should start by actually appearing publicly with me.”
You looked up from your book, surprised. He continued before you could respond.
“There’s a ball tomorrow night at the capital. I’m expected to attend.” He paused, studying your reaction. “Rumors have already reached half the empire that my wife hates me. It would be good to change the public perception a little. At least act like a fucking couple for once.”
The invitation — if it could even be called that — hung in the air. It wasn’t warm or romantic. It was a test, plain and simple.
You closed your book slowly and met his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. “If that’s what you want.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, something unreadable flickered across his face.
“Good,” he said simply. Then he stood up, gathering some of his documents. “Be ready by evening tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”
He headed toward the door, cloak shifting over his shoulders. Just before he left, he paused and glanced back at you one last time.
“And try not to embarrass me,” he added, though his tone was less biting than before. Almost… cautious.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet library once again.
You let out a long breath and leaned back in your chair, heart still racing. A public ball. Tomorrow. With Sukuna.
This was a big step — and a dangerous one. You’d have to be careful. Very careful.
But it was also an opportunity. A chance to stand beside him in front of everyone and start showing that you were different.
You stood up, clutching the book to your chest, a mix of nerves and quiet determination settling in your stomach.
Tomorrow it is.
The next day passed in a quiet blur of nerves and preparation.
You spent most of the afternoon trying not to overthink everything, but as evening approached, the anxiety crept in anyway. When the maids finally arrived to help you get ready, they moved around your room with careful, slightly confused energy — still adjusting to this gentler version of their mistress.
You chose a deep crimson gown made of rich, heavy silk that flowed elegantly to the floor. It had long, fitted sleeves and a modestly elegant neckline that showed just enough collarbone to feel refined rather than daring. The maids helped you into it, lacing the back with steady fingers while you stood in front of the large mirror. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your skin, the color bringing out a quiet intensity you hadn’t expected.
They brushed your hair until it gleamed, working through every tangle with patient strokes. Most of it was pinned up into an elegant style with delicate silver pins, but they left a few soft strands loose to frame your face. One of the maids added a simple but beautiful necklace with a single dark gem that rested just below your collarbone, along with matching earrings. A touch of rose-tinted balm was applied to your lips, and a light dusting of powder to even your complexion.
You stared at your reflection the entire time, heart beating faster. This version of you looked every bit the refined duchess — poised, beautiful, and completely unlike the cold, silent woman the public had come to expect at Sukuna’s side.
“You look beautiful, My Lady,” the older maid said softly as she stepped back, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.
“Thank you,” you replied quietly, smoothing your hands down the front of the gown. Inside, your stomach was in knots. This would be your first real public appearance with Sukuna. Everyone would be watching. Waiting for the usual tension or outright disdain they’d grown used to seeing between the Duke and his wife.
A firm knock sounded at the door.
“He’s ready for you, My Lady,” a servant called from the hallway.
You took one last steadying breath, thanked the maids again, and stepped out.
Sukuna was waiting in the main hall, dressed in formal black with subtle gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His pink hair was neatly tied back, and the sight of him in full formal attire made your chest tighten. He looked every bit the powerful duke — tall, imposing, and dangerously handsome.
His crimson eyes swept over you slowly, from head to toe. For a moment his expression was unreadable.
“You’re actually coming,” he said, voice low. It wasn’t quite a question.
“I said I would,” you replied simply.
He gave a short nod, then offered his arm. The gesture felt stiff, like he was still testing whether you’d take it or pull away at the last second.
You slipped your hand through his arm without hesitation. His muscles were tense beneath your fingers, but he didn’t pull away.
As you walked together toward the waiting carriage, he spoke again, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“People talk. A lot. If we’re going to do this, at least try to look like you don’t hate being next to me.”
You glanced up at him. “I don’t hate it.”
Sukuna didn’t respond, but his grip on your arm tightened just slightly — not painful, just… firmer. Like he was anchoring himself.
The carriage ride to the capital was quiet, the only sounds being the wheels on the road and the occasional shift of fabric. Sukuna sat across from you, watching the passing scenery with a distant expression. Every so often his gaze would drift back to you, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were really there.
When the carriage finally slowed to a stop outside the grand hall, music and warm light spilled out into the night. You could already hear the murmur of voices and feel the weight of the eyes that would soon be on both of you.
Sukuna stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you down. His palm was warm and steady against yours.
“Ready?” he asked, voice gruff.
You nodded, slipping your hand back into the crook of his arm.
“Then let’s go act like a fucking couple.”
The grand hall glowed under hundreds of crystal chandeliers, casting warm golden light across marble floors and velvet-draped walls. Music from a full orchestra swelled through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk and satin gowns. The scent of expensive perfumes, fresh flowers, and roasted meats from the banquet tables hung heavy in the room.
The moment you and Sukuna stepped through the tall arched entrance together, the entire atmosphere shifted.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of surprised murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave.
You felt every eye on you. Some were curious, some shocked, many openly calculating. The Duke and Duchess of the North rarely appeared together in public — and when they had in the past, it had always been marked by cold distance and icy silence.
Tonight was different.
Sukuna’s arm was solid beneath your fingers as he guided you forward. His posture was straight and commanding, every inch the powerful Duke Sukuna the empire feared and respected. You stayed close, your hand resting lightly but deliberately on his arm, chin lifted with quiet confidence.
A portly lord with a heavy gold chain and an embroidered waistcoat approached first, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace, Duke Sukuna,” he said smoothly, then turned to you with a slightly wider smile. “And Duchess… what an unexpected pleasure to see you both together this evening.”
Sukuna gave a curt nod. “My wife wished to attend. I saw no reason to refuse her.”
The lord’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered quickly. “How wonderful. The two of you make quite the striking pair tonight. The Duke and Duchess of the North, united at last.”
You offered a polite, gentle smile. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
Sukuna’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he didn’t pull away. As the lord moved on, more nobles drifted closer, drawn by the unusual sight. You heard the whispers clearly now.
“...the Duke and Duchess actually look civil…”
“I thought she hated him…”
“Look at them. She’s practically standing with him…”
Sukuna kept you close the entire time, one large hand occasionally resting at the small of your back as you moved through the hall. The touch was possessive, almost protective, even if his face remained cool and composed.
Later, when the orchestra struck up a slower, more intimate melody, Sukuna leaned down, his voice low against your ear.
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
You nodded. He led you onto the polished floor, one broad hand settling firmly on your waist while the other held yours. He moved with surprising grace for someone of his size and power — confident, controlled, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You followed his lead, hyper-aware of every point of contact: the heat of his palm burning through the silk of your gown, the solid wall of his chest so close to yours, the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to him.
For a few moments the rest of the room seemed to fade.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the music. His crimson eyes flicked down to meet yours. “People are staring less like they’re waiting for us to start arguing in the middle of the floor.”
You looked up at him, a small genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I told you I wanted to try.”
His grip on your waist tightened just slightly. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your gown, almost absentmindedly.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he said, though there was less bite in his tone than usual. “This doesn’t mean I trust you yet.”
“I know,” you replied softly. “But thank you for giving me the chance anyway.”
Sukuna didn’t answer. But he also didn’t let go of you when the song ended. Instead, he kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you off the floor, staying closer than strictly necessary.
A short while later, a group of older lords approached Sukuna. One of them — a tall man with silver hair and sharp features — gave a respectful bow.
“Your Grace, if we could steal a moment of your time? There are some matters regarding the northern border that require your input.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened for a brief second. He glanced down at you, then back at the lords.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “I won’t be long.”
Before he stepped away, he leaned in close to your ear, voice low. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”
You nodded. His hand lingered on your waist for one extra second before he pulled away and followed the group toward a quieter side balcony for their discussion.
Suddenly, you were alone.
You stood near the edge of the dance floor, champagne glass in hand, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. The weight of curious stares hadn’t faded. A few noblewomen still whispered behind their fans, and every so often someone would glance your way with open speculation.
A deep, smooth voice spoke from your left.
“Duchess, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction tonight.”
You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and sharp green eyes watching you with a lazy, confident smile. He was dressed in deep emerald and black, a marquess’s insignia pinned neatly to his lapel.
“Marquess Toji Fushiguro,” he introduced himself with a respectful bow of his head. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. Though I must say, seeing you here with the Duke tonight is… refreshing.”
His tone was warm and easy, without any obvious scheming edge. You felt yourself relax just a little.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquess,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve heard your name mentioned before. You handle the eastern trade routes, don’t you?”
Toji’s smile widened, looking genuinely pleased that you knew. “I do. Though I’m surprised you’re familiar with such dull matters. Most duchesses prefer to stay far away from trade talk.”
The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was charming in a straightforward, slightly roguish way — asking light questions about the northern estates, commenting on the music, and even making a dry joke about how stiff most balls tended to be. You found yourself smiling more naturally, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chatted. For the first time that evening, talking to someone felt… comfortable.
Toji tilted his head slightly, green eyes glinting with curiosity. “If I may be bold, Duchess — you seem different tonight than what the rumors suggested. Happier, perhaps?”
You were about to respond when a large, familiar hand suddenly slid around your waist from behind, fingers gripping your hip with clear possessiveness. A warm, solid body pressed against your back, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Sukuna.
His grip tightened, pulling you back against his chest in one smooth motion. The heat of his body seeped through the silk of your gown, and his thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone — a blatant, territorial claim.
Toji’s easy smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, inclining his head respectfully.
“Duke Sukuna,” he greeted calmly. “I was just keeping your wife company while you were occupied.”
Sukuna’s voice was low and dangerous, rumbling against your back. “I can see that.” His hand stayed firmly on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make a point. “Though I don’t recall asking anyone to entertain my duchess.”
You felt the tension rolling off him in waves. His other arm came around your other side, almost caging you against him in front of the entire hall.
Toji raised an eyebrow, still perfectly civil. “No offense meant, Your Grace. It was an honor speaking with the Duchess.”
Sukuna didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke loud enough for Toji to hear.
“We’re leaving this conversation,” he said flatly. Then, louder, “Come, wife.”
Sukuna didn’t stop walking until he had guided you into a quieter corner of the grand hall, partially shielded by a tall marble pillar and heavy crimson velvet drapes. The music and chatter of the ball felt distant now, muffled. His hand never left your hip. If anything, his grip tightened, fingers digging possessively into the silk of your gown as though he needed the contact to ground himself.
He turned you to face him with surprising care, then backed you gently but firmly against the cool marble pillar. One large hand stayed locked on your waist while the other came up to brace beside your head, effectively caging you in. His body heat enveloped you instantly — warm, solid, and overwhelming. The faint scent of smoke, leather, and something darker clung to him, making your pulse stutter.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice low and rough, almost a growl. His crimson eyes burned down into yours with unmistakable intensity. “Laughing with him like the two of you were old friends. Did you forget you’re here with me tonight?”
The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable — sharp, dark, and barely leashed.
You kept your voice calm, though your heart was racing. “We were only talking. He was civil. Nothing more.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenched visibly. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your hip through the thin silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rushing across your skin.
“Civil,” he repeated, the word laced with pure disdain. “I saw the way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you.”
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. “And here I thought you were trying to mend our relationship. Yet the second I turn my back, you’re chatting and smiling with another man like it means nothing.”
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against the hard wall of his chest. You could feel the tension coiled in every muscle, the barely restrained frustration rolling off him in waves. One of his fingers slipped just beneath the edge of your gown, brushing bare skin at your hip — a deliberate, claiming touch.
“I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear. “Especially not with bastards like Toji Fushiguro.”
You swallowed hard, breath shallow. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just being polite while you were busy.”
Sukuna let out a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat — half a scoff, half a laugh. His free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his burning crimson gaze.
“Polite,” he murmured, thumb stroking slowly along your jawline. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of here the moment I saw his hand move toward you.”
His eyes dropped to your lips for a long, heavy second. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the tension might snap at any moment. For a heartbeat you thought he might kiss you right there — hard, claiming, in full view of everyone still watching from across the hall.
Instead, he leaned in until his lips ghosted against your ear again.
“Next time someone approaches you while I’m gone,” he said, voice dark and velvet-rough, “you tell them you belong to me. Clearly. Because if I have to remind them myself… I won’t be nearly as polite.”
His fingers flexed on your hip in one final, possessive squeeze — a silent promise — before he slowly stepped back. His hand remained at the small of your back, heavy and unrelenting.
The music swelled again around you.
Sukuna’s expression smoothed into something cooler and more composed for the public eye, but the heat in his eyes stayed locked on you.
“Come,” he said, voice still low. “We’re dancing again. And this time, you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night.”
Sukuna led you back onto the dance floor without another word, his hand firm on your waist, pulling you closer than strictly proper for a public setting. The orchestra had shifted into a slower, more intimate melody — strings and soft piano weaving through the air. Couples swirled around you, but you barely noticed them. All you could focus on was the heat of Sukuna’s body pressed against yours, the way his fingers splayed possessively across your lower back, and the unmistakable tension radiating from him.
He moved with controlled grace, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his thigh occasionally brushing yours as you turned. Every point of contact felt electric.
“You’re quiet now,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “What happened to all that polite conversation you were having with the marquess?”
You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You told me not to leave your side. I’m listening.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest — not quite a laugh. His hand slid lower on your back, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Good girl,” he said softly, almost mockingly, though the heat in his eyes was anything but. “Keep listening. I don’t want to see you smiling at anyone else like that tonight.”
The jealousy was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he held you — tighter than necessary, almost like he was daring anyone to try approaching you again.
As you turned under his arm and came back into his embrace, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“He thought he had a chance,” he continued, voice rough. “Like he didn’t know exactly who you belong to.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “Maybe I need to make it clearer.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. Being this close to him — surrounded by the swirl of music and watching eyes — made everything feel heightened. The scent of him, the solid strength of his body, the barely restrained possessiveness in every touch.
“Sukuna…” you started softly.
He cut you off by pulling you even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His breath was warm against your temple.
“You wanted to mend things,” he reminded you, tone dark. “Then stop giving other men reasons to think they can talk to my wife like that. Smile at me. Stay close to me.”
The song began to slow, but Sukuna didn’t release you. He kept you locked in his arms even as other couples started drifting apart. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing your spine through the silk, a silent claim in front of the entire hall.
When the music finally faded, he didn’t let go right away. He stared down at you, crimson eyes heavy with something dangerous and hungry.
“We’re leaving,” he said abruptly, voice low. “I’ve had enough of these people watching us.”
He didn’t wait for your agreement. His hand stayed firmly at the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Nobles parted for him instinctively, eyes wide at the sight of the Duke and Duchess leaving together so early — and so obviously entangled.
The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside. Sukuna kept you close as you waited for the carriage, his arm wrapped around your waist like he still wasn’t ready to stop touching you.
Once inside the carriage, he sat beside you instead of across from you. The door had barely closed before his hand was back on your thigh, gripping possessively through the fabric of your gown.
The carriage started moving, carrying you both back toward the estate through the dark roads. Sukuna’s hand remained on your thigh the entire ride, heavy and warm — a silent reminder of exactly who you belonged to.
By the time it finally rolled to a stop in front of the castle, the moon hung high in the sky. The journey had been quiet, thick with lingering tension. Sukuna hadn’t spoken a word, but his grip on your thigh never loosened.
When the footman opened the door, Sukuna stepped out first and offered you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down onto the stone steps. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffy ballroom, but it did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach.
He walked you inside, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back the whole way through the dimly lit halls. Servants bowed and quickly disappeared when they saw you both. The castle felt unusually still.
When you reached the point where the corridors split — one leading to his private wing, the other to yours — Sukuna stopped. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable in the low torchlight.
“You did well tonight,” he admitted grudgingly, staring at you for a long moment before glancing away. “But if I see him — or anyone else — near you again like that…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
Sukuna gave a short nod, almost like he was dismissing you. “Goodnight.”
He turned to leave, heading toward his own chambers.
You stood there for a second, heart pounding, before the words slipped out — soft, shy, and a little nervous.
“Wait…”
Sukuna paused, looking back at you over his shoulder.
You swallowed, cheeks warming as you forced yourself to speak. “You know… we can’t really fix things as a couple if we keep sleeping separately"
The words hung in the air between you. They sounded bolder than you felt.
Sukuna went completely still. For several long seconds he simply stared at you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something darker, more dangerous.
“Is that so?” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step back toward you, then another, until he was standing close again. “You’re asking to sleep in my bed now?”
He tilted his head, studying your face like he was trying to find the trick in your words. His hand came up, fingers lightly brushing your jaw as he looked down at you.
“Careful, wife,” he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You keep pushing like this… I might start thinking you actually mean it.”
His gaze dropped to your mouth for a long second before returning to your eyes. The tension between you crackled again, even stronger than it had been at the ball.
Sukuna didn’t move away. He waited, watching you closely, as if daring you to take it back… or push further.
The silence stretched, heavy and charged. His thumb was still resting against your lower lip, warm and rough, while his crimson eyes searched your face for any sign of deception. You could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves.
Finally, he let out a slow breath, almost a scoff.
“…Fine,” he said, voice low and guarded. “If that’s what you want.”
He stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed on your waist, fingers still gripping you with quiet possessiveness. His expression remained cold, cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Don’t expect this to mean anything,” he added, tone flat. “I’m still not convinced you’ve changed. But if you’re so determined to play the part of a real wife… then come.”
He turned and started walking down the corridor toward his private wing, keeping his hand on the small of your back to guide you along with him. The touch was firm — not gentle, but not forceful either. It felt like both an invitation and a test.
The halls were quiet at this hour, lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed softly. Sukuna didn’t speak again until you reached the heavy wooden doors to his chambers. He pushed them open without hesitation and stepped inside, holding the door for you.
His rooms were large and unmistakably his — dark wood furniture, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a low fire burning in the hearth, weapons and scrolls neatly arranged on shelves. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather.
Sukuna closed the door behind you with a heavy click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with that same calculating stare.
“You wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like he was reminding both of you. “So here we are.”
He pushed off the door and walked further into the room, loosening the ties on his formal tunic as he went. The movement was casual, but you could feel the tension still radiating from him.
“Get comfortable,” he told you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, almost seductive, but the suspicion never fully left his eyes.
He didn’t say anything else. He simply waited, watching to see what you would do now that you were truly alone with him in his space.
You stood there for a moment, suddenly very aware of how large his chambers felt and how small you felt inside them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the dark wood and black silk sheets. The air smelled like him — smoke, leather, and something faintly metallic.
You swallowed and moved toward the side of the room where a large wardrobe stood. One of the maids had already brought a few of your things here earlier, as if the servants had anticipated this. You picked out a simple black silk nightgown and hesitated.
Sukuna had turned away slightly, pulling off his formal tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair. The movement revealed the strong lines of his back and the black tattoos swirling across his skin. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was still aware of every move you made.
You changed quickly behind the privacy screen in the corner, the silk cool against your skin. When you stepped out, Sukuna was already sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing only loose black pants. His pink hair was untied now, falling messily around his face. He looked up when you approached.
For a long second he just stared.
Then he let out a slow breath and patted the space beside him.
“Come here,” he said, voice low.
You walked over and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. Sukuna watched you the entire time, suspicion still clear in his crimson eyes even as he pulled the covers back for you.
You slipped under the sheets, lying on your back. The silk felt cool and smooth. Sukuna stayed sitting for another moment, then finally lay down beside you. The bed was large, but he took up so much space that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He turned onto his side, facing you. One arm rested above his head while the other lay between you, close enough that his fingers almost brushed your arm.
The silence was heavy.
“You’re really here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze traced your face, still guarded. “In my bed.”
He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained cold and watchful.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he said quietly. “If this is another game… I won’t be kind about it.”
Then he shifted closer. Not enough to touch fully, but close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t pull you into his arms. He simply laid there, watching you like he was waiting for you to prove something — or reveal your true intentions.
The fire crackled softly in the background. The weight of his presence beside you made it hard to relax, but you stayed there, heart beating steadily.
Sukuna’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.
“Sleep, wife. We’ll see how long this little performance of yours lasts.”
He didn’t close his eyes right away. He kept watching you in the dim firelight, guarded, suspicious… and just a little intrigued.
Morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, pale and hazy, casting long golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. You woke slowly, cocooned in warmth that felt both foreign and strangely comforting. Sukuna’s arm was draped heavily over your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back, one leg loosely tangled with yours beneath the black silk sheets. His breathing was deep and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against you with every inhale.
For a long moment you didn’t move. This was the first time you’d ever woken up beside him — sharing the same bed, the same space, the same air. Your heart beat a little too fast as the reality settled in. The Duke of the North was holding you in his sleep, even if it was only out of habit or unconscious possession.
Sukuna stirred a few minutes later. His arm tightened around your waist for a brief second, pulling you closer on instinct, before his body went still. You felt the exact moment consciousness returned to him — the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly against your back.
He didn’t pull away immediately.
“You’re still here,” he said quietly, voice low and rough with sleep. There was a hint of genuine surprise beneath the words. “Figured you’d sneak back to your own room before I woke up.”
You turned your head slightly on the pillow to look at him. His crimson eyes were half-lidded, messy pink hair falling across his forehead. Up close like this, without the usual cold mask, he looked almost human — though the sharp suspicion in his gaze reminded you he was anything but.
“I told you I wanted this,” you replied softly.
Sukuna let out a slow breath, almost a huff. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you properly. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the silk of your nightgown. The touch was light, but you could feel the weight of his attention — guarded, calculating, searching for any crack in your resolve.
He watched you for a long, heavy moment, suspicion still clear in his expression. The silence between you felt intimate and fragile at the same time. His fingers flexed once against your waist before relaxing again.
“Don’t get too used to this,” he said eventually, tone flat but not cruel. “One night doesn’t fix anything. One night doesn’t make me trust you.”
Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added more quietly, “But… you can stay for breakfast if you want.”
Sukuna rolled away and got out of bed, stretching his powerful arms above his head. The morning light traced every line of muscle and the intricate black tattoos that covered his shoulders, chest, and back. He moved with the casual confidence of someone completely at ease in his own space, yet you could still feel the tension humming beneath his skin.
God, he’s even hotter in person… no wonder I was obsessed.
He grabbed a fresh tunic but didn’t put it on. Instead, he leaned against the wardrobe, watching you in his sheets with that dark, cautious gaze. The fire had burned low, leaving the room quiet and heavy with unspoken tension.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep. “Are you going to lie there all morning?”
You didn’t make him wait long.
You slipped out of bed, the black silk nightgown clinging lightly to your skin as you moved. The morning air in the chamber felt cooler than the warmth of the sheets you’d just left. Sukuna watched you the entire time from where he leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his broad chest, expression unreadable but intense.
“Breakfast will be brought here,” he said simply, voice still rough from sleep. “No need to go to the main hall today.”
A short while later, servants arrived with silver trays. They moved quickly and quietly, setting the table near the tall windows with practiced care — a pot of strong black tea, warm crusty bread, thick slices of roasted meat, fresh berries, and a small dish of honey. The scent of the food filled the room, warm and savory. They kept their eyes lowered, clearly unsettled by the sight of you in the Duke’s private chambers wearing only a nightgown and robe, but they left without a single word.
Sukuna sat down first. You took the seat across from him.
The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft golden glow across the table and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It traced the black tattoos visible at the open collar of his tunic and the faint scars on his hands as he picked up his knife. For several long minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the distant crackle from the hearth.
Finally, Sukuna set his knife down with a quiet click and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes locking onto you with that familiar guarded intensity.
“So,” he said, voice low and guarded, “what made you change?”
You looked up from your plate, heart skipping a beat. Just died and woke up in the body of the woman you’re supposed to kill. No big deal.
There was no point in holding back anymore.
“I like you,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he let out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Bullshit.”
The word landed blunt and cold. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching you with sharp suspicion.
“You expect me to believe that? After months of silence, after treating me like I was beneath you, after making sure everyone knew how much you despised this marriage… you suddenly like me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Try again.”
You didn’t look away. Your voice stayed quiet but steady.
“No, really,” you said. “I do. I like you. That’s why I’m trying so hard.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for the lie, the manipulation, the trick. The silence stretched between you, thick and tense. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before he leaned back again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smirk.
“Okay, little liar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then prove it to me.”
You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Prove it to you…?” you repeated softly, the words coming out a little breathless.
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.
“Yes,” he said, voice dropping lower, almost velvet-smooth. “Prove it. You say you like me. You say you want to fix this marriage. So show me.”
His gaze drifted slowly down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. The air between you felt heavier now, warmer. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of your hand, the touch deceptively gentle.
“You’re in my chambers. In my bed,” he continued, thumb tracing a slow line over your knuckles. “If you’re actually serious… then stop hiding behind pretty words and prove it.”
His touch lingered, possessive but controlled, sending a slow shiver up your arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched your reaction closely, crimson eyes dark with suspicion and something much hotter underneath.
“Prove it, wife,” he said again, voice low and seductive. “I’m right here. Show me how much you like me.”
The breakfast table suddenly felt far too small. The tension had shifted — still laced with his suspicion, but now crackling with slow, deliberate heat as he waited for you to make the next move.
Your pulse thundered under his thumb. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his crimson eyes darkened as they traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat. He wasn’t touching you anywhere else, but it still felt like he had you pinned.
You swallowed, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck.
“…How?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended. “How do you want me to prove it?”
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned in a little closer across the table, his thumb still stroking lazy circles over your knuckles.
“That’s the fun part,” he murmured. “You figure it out. You’re the one claiming you like me. So show me what that looks like.”
His free hand moved, reaching across to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost gentle, but his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, tracing lightly down the column of your throat before pulling away.
“You can start by coming here,” he said, voice low and commanding. He pushed his chair back slightly and patted his thigh once. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Your breath caught. Heart racing, you stood up slowly and rounded the table. The moment you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap. He settled you sideways across his thighs, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other rested on your leg, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh.
Up close like this, you could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest against your side, the way his breath brushed your temple.
“Better,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown. “Now… show me.”
He tilted his head, lips hovering near your jaw.
“Kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Like you mean it. Like you actually want your husband.”
His crimson eyes were locked on yours, still guarded, still waiting for the lie to slip through. But beneath the suspicion, there was clear hunger — dark and patient, daring you to close the distance.
Sukuna’s fingers flexed on your thigh, a silent reminder of his patience running thin.
“Well, wife?” he murmured, voice velvet-rough against your skin. “I’m waiting.”
You didn’t hesitate any longer.
Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started soft — tentative on your end, testing. Sukuna stayed still for half a second, as if surprised you’d actually done it.
Then he took control.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you harder against his mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, turning hungry and demanding. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming your mouth with a low growl that vibrated against you. He tasted like black tea and heat, and the way he kissed you was nothing short of possessive — like he was trying to erase every other man who had ever looked at you.
You gasped into his mouth. Sukuna used the opening to tilt your head and kiss you deeper, tongue stroking yours with slow, filthy intent. His other hand gripped your thigh tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you more firmly onto his lap until you were straddling him.
“Better,” he rasped against your lips when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe. His crimson eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “But not enough.”
He kissed you again, harder this time. One hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, palm sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. He didn’t go further yet — just teased, stroking the sensitive skin there while his mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck.
“You say you like me,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Then prove how much.”
He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you. Sukuna’s grip on your thigh tightened in response, and you felt him growing hard beneath you, the thick length pressing against your core through his pants.
Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He made a low, approving sound and rocked his hips up once, grinding against you deliberately.
“Touch me,” he ordered, voice rough. “If you’re serious, then fucking touch me.”
You obeyed, sliding your hands under his tunic, palms running over the hard planes of his stomach and the tattoos that covered his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch. Sukuna rewarded you by biting down on your neck again, then soothing the spot with his tongue.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing heavy, eyes burning.
“Keep going,” he said, voice dark and commanding. His hands gripping your ass firmly as he pulled you down harder against his growing erection. “Show me exactly how much you want your husband.”
His hips rolled up deliberately, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your clit in slow, filthy circles. The friction was maddening, heat building fast between you.
You moaned into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in him.
He growled low in his throat and rocked you harder against him. “Fuck,” he rasped against your lips, breath hot. “You’re already so wet for me.”
One large hand slipped further under your nightgown, calloused palm dragging up your bare thigh until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties. He groaned at the feeling, pressing two thick fingers against your clothed slit and rubbing firmly, spreading your wetness.
“So fucking wet,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “All this from just sitting on my lap?”
He pushed your panties aside with impatient fingers and dragged two thick digits slowly through your slick folds. The first direct touch made your hips jerk sharply. Pleasure shot through you like lightning — hot, electric, and overwhelming. You were already soaked, embarrassingly wet, and Sukuna could feel it.
He chuckled darkly against your throat, the low vibration sending shivers racing down your spine as he kissed and bit along your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue.
“You’re dripping down my fingers, wife,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “This greedy little cunt is making such a mess already.”
He pushed one thick finger inside you slowly, stretching your tight walls. Your inner muscles clenched hard around the intrusion, hot and silky. The feeling of being filled by him — even just one finger — made your breath hitch. He added a second finger almost immediately, scissoring them lazily while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles.
The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the quiet morning room — lewd squelching noises that would have made you blush if you weren’t already trembling with pleasure. Your arousal coated his hand, dripping down his wrist and onto his lap as he worked you open with practiced, unhurried strokes.
You whimpered, hands fisting tightly in the front of his tunic. Sukuna’s free hand yanked the neckline of your nightgown down roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He leaned in and sucked one sensitive nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly over the peak before his teeth grazed it. The sharp sting mixed with pleasure made your back arch, pushing your chest closer to his hungry mouth.
“So fucking sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking harder. “Look at you. Falling apart just from my fingers like a desperate little whore.”
He curled his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy while his thumb pressed firmer circles on your clit. Your hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier, echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to watch your face, his crimson eyes dark with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “Let me feel how much this supposed ‘liking me’ makes this tight little pussy squeeze around my fingers.”
His fingers curled harder, stroking that sensitive spot relentlessly while his thumb worked your clit faster. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every thrust, every filthy word.
It snapped.
You came hard with a broken moan, walls clenching violently around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as slick gushed over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, leaving you gasping and trembling.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, still pumping his fingers slowly through your spasms, drawing out every last pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering softly.
He finally pulled his fingers free, glistening with your release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, tongue dragging slowly and deliberately over his skin, savoring your taste.
“Sweet,” he murmured, voice husky and dark. His eyes never left yours.
He lifted you effortlessly and stood, carrying you toward the massive bed. He laid you down on the black silk sheets, hovering over you with that same dark, hungry look.
“Take the nightgown off,” he commanded, already pulling his own tunic over his head, revealing the full expanse of his tattooed, muscled torso. “I want to see all of you.”
His hands moved to his pants, loosening them as he watched you, eyes burning with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Prove how much you actually want me, wife.”
You sat up on the bed, heart hammering against your ribs. Under his burning gaze, you reached for the hem of your nightgown and pulled it up and over your head, letting the silk fall to the floor. The cool air of the chamber brushed over your bare skin, making your nipples tighten instantly.
Sukuna’s eyes raked slowly over your naked body — from your flushed face, down the curve of your breasts, your stomach, and the glistening wetness already coating your inner thighs. He let out a low, rough sound deep in his chest, almost a growl.
“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “So small. So fucking pretty.”
He shoved his pants the rest of the way down his hips and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, the veined shaft curving slightly upward. It was meaty — obscenely so — the girth making your mouth go dry. The flushed head was already leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. Even fully hard, it looked almost too big, too heavy, the weight of it making it hang thick and full between his powerful thighs.
You couldn’t help the soft, shaky breath that escaped you.
Sukuna noticed. His smirk was dark and satisfied as he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping deeply under his much larger frame. He settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart. The size difference hit you all over again — he was so much bigger than you, his body completely eclipsing yours as he hovered above you.
He gripped his thick cock in one large hand and dragged the heavy head through your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness. The blunt, meaty tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch.
“You’re tiny compared to me,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel every inch when I split you open.”
He pushed forward slowly.
The thick head of his cock breached you, stretching your entrance with a slow, burning pressure. You gasped sharply at the sheer girth — he was so thick that your walls had to part around him, fluttering and clenching as he sank deeper. The heavy, meaty weight of his cock filled you inch by inch, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until you were full, so full, your back arching off the bed with a broken moan.
Sukuna groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His balls rested heavy and warm against you.
“Shit,” he breathed against your neck, voice strained. “So fucking tight… this little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.”
He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, the way his thick cock throbbed inside you, hot and heavy. Then he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his meaty length along your walls with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked cunt filled the room, slick and filthy.
You whimpered, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Sukuna… you’re so big—”
He growled at your words, hips snapping harder, driving his thick cock deeper. The drag was exquisite, every vein and ridge rubbing against your most sensitive spots. His size made you feel impossibly full, stretched wide around his girth, the pressure bordering on too much but so, so good.
“Take it,” he rasped, voice dark and possessive. “Take every fucking inch like the good little wife you’re trying to be.”
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his deep thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against you with every powerful stroke, the wet sounds growing louder as your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets beneath you.
You moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back. The size difference made everything more intense — his broad chest crushing your breasts, his muscular thighs spreading you wide, his massive frame completely dominating yours as he fucked you into the mattress.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and that lingering edge of suspicion.
“Tell me again,” he growled, hips grinding deep, the thick head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me how much you like your husband’s cock while I’m ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could barely think through the overwhelming fullness. His cock was so thick it felt like he was splitting you open with every slow, deliberate thrust. The heavy drag of his veined shaft against your walls made your toes curl, pleasure bordering on too much.
“I like it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan as he rolled his hips again, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. “I like your cock so much— fuck, Sukuna, you’re so deep…”
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, spreading you wider, and drove into you harder. The new angle made his thick cock hit even deeper, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every powerful thrust. Your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you, the lewd squelching sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This greedy little cunt is sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, deep and filthy, while his hips snapped forward harder. The sheer size difference made everything more intense — his broad, muscled body completely covering yours, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked you with long, punishing strokes.
You whimpered into his mouth, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across his tattooed skin. Sukuna hissed at the sting and rewarded you by pounding into you even harder, the thick head of his cock bullying that sensitive spot inside you over and over.
“Again,” he demanded against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you moaned, legs shaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. “It belongs to you— only you—”
“Good girl.”
He sat back on his heels, pulling your hips up with him so your lower back was off the bed. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his thick cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles while he fucked you senseless.
The wet slap of skin against skin mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts. Your breasts bounced with every powerful snap of his hips, nipples tight and aching. Sukuna’s gaze was locked between your legs, watching hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked pussy again and again, stretching you obscenely around his girth.
“Look at that,” he growled, voice dark. “Taking every inch like you were made for me. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every deep thrust, every swipe of his thumb on your clit. Your thighs trembled violently in his grip.
“Sukuna— I’m gonna—!”
“Cum,” he ordered, hips slamming into you harder. “Cum on your husband’s cock like the desperate little wife you are.”
It hit you like a wave. You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching violently around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering as slick gushed around him. Your whole body shook, back arching sharply as pleasure tore through you.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck— that’s it. Milk my cock.”
He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then, with a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding his hips in slow circles, pushing his release even deeper as he emptied himself completely.
“We’re not done,” he said quietly, a dangerous promise in his tone. “Not even close.”
Sukuna pulled out of you with a wet, filthy sound, your combined release dripping down your thighs. Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you onto your back and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you into his lap facing away from him, and hooked his powerful arms under your knees, folding you in a full nelson.
Your back pressed flush against his broad, tattooed chest. Your legs were spread obscenely wide, knees pushed up toward your shoulders by his strong arms. The position left you completely helpless — folded in half, pussy exposed and dripping, his thick cock sliding hot and heavy between your slick folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled right against your ear, voice feral. “So small and folded up for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”
He thrust up hard, burying his massive cock back inside you in one brutal stroke. The new angle made him feel even thicker, even deeper. You cried out, the sound raw and broken as his meaty length stretched you wide open again, the fat head bullying against your cervix with every thrust.
Sukuna went feral.
He fucked you like an animal — hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped up with powerful force, slamming his thick cock into your soaked pussy over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with the lewd squelching of your dripping cunt taking every inch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, the impact jolting through your body.
You were cockdrunk almost immediately.
Your mind went hazy, eyes rolling back as pleasure overloaded your senses. All you could do was moan helplessly, body limp in his hold as he used you. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the sheer girth stretching you so wide it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.
“S-Sukuna— ahh— too deep—” you slurred, voice broken and whiny.
He only fucked you harder, arms locked tight under your knees, keeping you folded and helpless as he pounded into you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his hot breath panting against your ear.
“Take it,” he snarled, voice feral and animalistic. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could only moan incoherently, head lolling back against his shoulder. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth as he fucked you senseless, his thick cock bullying your insides with every savage thrust. The wet sounds were filthy — your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He slammed back into you in one brutal thrust, fucking you in deep, punishing doggy style.
“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked. One large hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, the sharp crack echoing as he pounded into you from behind.
Your face was pressed into the sheets, ass up, completely at his mercy as he railed you. His thick cock drove so deep you felt it in your stomach, the heavy drag of his veined shaft making your eyes roll back. He smacked your ass again, gripping the soft flesh hard as he used you.
“You’re mine,” he growled, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “This pussy is mine. Say it.”
You could barely speak, mind blank and cockdrunk, but you whimpered obediently between moans, “Yours… it’s yours—”
Sukuna snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the bed creaking violently under the force of his thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every brutal stroke, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.
He was relentless now — grunting low and animalistic, cursing under his breath as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He claimed you with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving his thick cock so deep you felt it in your stomach.
“Fuck— this pussy is sucking me in so greedily,” he growled, voice wrecked and animalistic. One hand left your hip and came down hard on your ass again with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, gripping the soft, reddened flesh and spreading you wider as he railed you.
Your mind was completely melted. All you could do was moan and whimper into the sheets, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you. His thick, meaty cock stretched you so wide it felt like he was reshaping you from the inside. Every deep, punishing thrust made the fat head kiss your cervix, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through your body.
“S-Sukuna— too much— ahh—!” you slurred, voice broken and whiny, barely coherent anymore.
He laughed darkly, low and breathless, and smacked your ass once more before gripping both cheeks and spreading you obscenely. He watched hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked, fluttering pussy again and again, your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his heavy balls.
“Look at this greedy little hole,” he rasped, hips snapping forward brutally. “Taking my fat cock so well. You’re dripping everywhere, wife. Making such a fucking mess on my sheets.”
He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other braced beside your head. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy cock bullying that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust. The wet, filthy plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his guttural grunts.
You were shaking, thighs trembling violently, another orgasm building fast. Your mind was blank — nothing but the overwhelming stretch, the heat, the relentless drag of his thick veined cock inside you.
Sukuna’s breath was hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder. “This tight little cunt is mine. Say it while you cum on my cock again.”
You could barely form words, but you whimpered obediently between moans, voice slurred and cockdrunk. “Yours— it’s yours— Sukuna— please—!”
He fucked you harder, hips pistoning relentlessly, the heavy slap of his balls against your clit pushing you over the edge. You came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as another intense orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his cock, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna groaned loudly, the sound raw and feral. “Good fucking girl—”
He didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm with deep, stuttering thrusts, hips snapping erratically as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, pulse after heavy pulse filling you until you felt impossibly full, the warmth spreading through your core. He kept grinding slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles to push every drop deeper, making sure you took all of him.
You could feel it leaking out around his thick cock — warm, sticky, and messy — dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his massive body pressing you firmly into the mattress. His chest heaved against your back, hot, ragged breaths fanning across the side of your neck. The scent of sweat, sex, and his skin filled the air with every shaky inhale. One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, almost possessively, while the other stayed gripping your hip, fingers digging in like he still wasn’t ready to let go.
“…Not bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse and low against your ear. “For a little liar.”
He finally pulled out slowly, inch by thick inch. A heavy trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your abused, fluttering pussy, warm and obscene as it ran down your inner thighs. Sukuna let out a low, satisfied hum at the sight before he rolled you onto your back and collapsed beside you.
Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around you possessively. His skin was hot and slightly damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing steadily under your cheek as he held you close.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he caught his breath.
But he didn’t let go.
a\n: honestly didn't know how to end this but hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
synopsis: You ran from your arranged marriage in a torn white wedding dress, desperate to escape the cruel lord your family sold you to. By midnight, you’re on your knees in front of the village butcher, begging for shelter.
Toji Fushiguro doesn’t help runaways.
But when you blurt out that he’s your husband in front of the biggest gossips in town, suddenly the whole village believes you’re his. Now you’re trapped in a fake marriage with the terrifying butcher — a massive, rough, possessive man who has decided that if you’re going to call yourself his wife… he’s going to make it very, very real.
pairing: butcher!toji fushiguro x runaway bride!reader
mdni | warnings: smut, first time, size kink, breeding kink, creampie, cum play, rough sex, possessive/jealous Toji, dirty talk, spanking, manhandling, strength kink, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, fake marriage
word count: 14.8k
a/n: im kinda obsessed with this ngl... also lmk if your enjoying these longer fics!
The great hall of your family estate felt more like a tomb than a place of celebration.
Thick beams of dark oak loomed overhead, and the air was heavy with the greasy smell of over-roasted venison, spilled sour wine, and your father’s desperation. Two massive iron chandeliers flickered with dying candles, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the walls. Servants had long since been dismissed, leaving only the three of you: your father, Lord Kato, and you — the silent prize being traded away.
Your father slumped in his carved high-backed chair, cheeks bloated and flushed deep red from too much drink. His once-fine tunic was stained with grease and wine. With a trembling hand, he slid the sealed parchment across the table. The wax bore your family’s broken crest.
“She’s untouched,” he slurred, trying and failing to sound proud. “Barely nineteen summers. Fertile. She’ll give you strong sons, I swear it. Obedient when properly disciplined. This marriage settles every debt between our houses — the gold, the eastern lands, the failed harvests… all of it wiped clean.”
Lord Kato sat across from him like a spider in human skin. Tall and unnaturally pale, with sharp cheekbones and eyes the color of frozen ink. His lips curled into a thin, cruel smile as he let his gaze crawl over your body without shame. He studied the swell of your breasts beneath your gown, the narrow dip of your waist, the way your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The way you trembled.
He took a slow sip of wine, then spoke, voice smooth and cold as winter steel.
“She’ll do nicely. The ceremony will take place tomorrow night at my estate. I expect her delivered in the finest white lace and silk… and nothing beneath it.” His smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp. “I want easy access the moment the guests leave. I’ve waited long enough for my new bride.”
You stood motionless in the center of the hall, heart pounding so violently you could hear it in your ears. Your skin crawled as if his eyes were already peeling the gown from your body. Nausea twisted in your stomach. This man had already buried three wives. Whispers spoke of bruises, broken bones, and screams that echoed through his halls at night. And now your own father was selling you to him for coin and land.
No one asked if you agreed.
No one asked what you wanted.
No one ever had.
You kept your face blank, eyes lowered like the obedient daughter they expected, while inside your mind screamed.
Later that night, when the household finally fell into drunken slumber and the torches burned low, you moved.
You had planned this in secret for weeks. A plain dark wool cloak stolen from the stables. A small bundle of hard bread, dried cheese, and a waterskin. Soft leather shoes you hoped would last. But the most valuable thing you owned was the wedding gown itself. You had decided to wear the half-finished white dress during your escape — the expensive satin and delicate lace might fetch enough coins in a distant village to buy you passage far away from here. It was risky, but you had nothing else of real value.
You slipped out through the narrow servant’s entrance at the back of the kitchens, the heavy door groaning softly behind you like a warning. The moment your feet touched the cold, dew-soaked grass, terror and fragile hope surged through you in equal measure.
You ran.
The forest swallowed you whole.
Ancient trees loomed like silent judges, their branches clawing at your white gown as if trying to drag you back. The delicate satin — still only half-finished, with pins and loose threads — snagged mercilessly on thorns. You heard fabric tearing again and again: sharp rips that sounded far too loud in the darkness. The long lace veil caught on a low limb and nearly yanked you off your feet; you tore it free with shaking hands, leaving half of it fluttering behind you like a surrendered flag. Mud and wet leaves caked your bare feet. Sharp stones and roots sliced into your soles until every step left bloody prints in the dirt. The cold night air burned your lungs. Sweat soaked your back and chest despite the chill, making the torn gown cling obscenely to your skin. Your legs screamed with exhaustion after only an hour, but fear kept you moving. Behind you, distant shouts echoed through the trees — your father’s guards, torches flickering like angry fireflies. Dogs barked. They were coming.
You pushed harder.
Branches whipped your face, leaving stinging cuts across your cheeks. Your hair fell loose from its elegant pins, wild and tangled. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with blood and dirt. Every shadow looked like a man ready to grab you. Every snap of a twig made your heart seize. You ran until your vision blurred and your chest felt like it would burst. You ran until the shouts grew fainter and the trees finally began to thin.
Hours had passed. The moon hung high and merciless overhead, bathing the world in cold silver light. Your legs trembled violently as you stumbled out of the treeline onto a wide, muddy road. In the distance, warm golden lantern light glowed between clusters of simple wooden buildings. A village.
You nearly collapsed with relief.
The main street was deserted, shutters closed tight against the night. Only one building still showed signs of life. Warm light spilled from its open front door onto the dirt road, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood and raw meat. A weathered wooden sign creaked overhead in the cold breeze:
Fushiguro Meat Co.
You limped toward it, every cut and bruise screaming.
A massive man stood under the wooden awning, illuminated by the lantern light. He was enormous — broad as a barn door, easily over six feet tall, with shoulders and arms so thick with muscle they looked carved from stone. He wore a blood-streaked leather apron tied low on his narrow hips. Beneath it, a simple white tank clung to his sweat-slicked chest, the thin fabric molded to heavy slabs of muscle and dark, scattered scars. His black hair was damp and messy, strands falling across his forehead. A deep, jagged scar twisted the corner of his mouth, giving his face a permanent, dangerous smirk even when he wasn’t smiling.
Thick veins stood out on his forearms as he slowly wiped a long, wicked boning knife clean on the edge of his apron. The blade gleamed.
He looked like violence given human shape — raw, brutal, and utterly terrifying.
You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him except that he was the only soul still awake, and you were completely out of options.
Your legs gave out the final few steps. You dropped hard to your knees in the cold dirt right in front of him, the torn white satin of your ruined wedding gown pooling around you like spilled milk mixed with blood and mud. Your chest heaved. Fresh tears cut clean tracks down your filthy cheeks.
“Please—” Your voice came out cracked and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Hide me. Just for one night. My family… they sold me to Lord Kato to settle their debts. He’s going to break me. Hurt me in ways I can’t even speak of. I’ll do anything you ask — scrub floors until my hands bleed, haul carcasses, sleep in the cold room with the meat, be your servant, your cleaner… anything. Just please… don’t let them take me back.”
You bowed your head, trembling, and clutched desperately at the bloody hem of his apron with both hands, staining your fingers red.
The man stopped moving. He looked down at you slowly, sharp green eyes narrowing as they took in every detail: your torn and filthy wedding dress, the cuts on your face and feet, the desperate tears, the way you knelt before him like a supplicant before a god of slaughter.
He flicked the long knife shut with a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet street.
“Not my problem, princess,” he rumbled. His voice was deep, low, and rough — like gravel being dragged across stone. There was no pity in it. “I don’t hide runaways. Go beg somewhere else before you bring trouble to my shop.”
You stayed on your knees, fingers still twisted tight in the bloody hem of his apron. Tears kept falling, mixing with the dirt on your cheeks. “Please… I have nowhere else. They’ll find me by morning. Lord Kato will—”
Footsteps. Soft, quick, coming from the narrow alley beside the butcher shop.
Three women emerged into the lantern light, their shawls pulled tight against the night chill, each carrying a small lantern. They stopped short at the sight of you kneeling in your ruined white gown in front of the massive butcher.
“Gods above,” the tallest one gasped. “Is that a wedding dress? Child, what in the world happened to you?”
The women hurried closer, lanterns swinging. Warm golden light spilled over your torn satin, the mud-caked hem, the blood from his apron smeared across your bodice and hands. One of the younger women pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s bleeding… and look at her feet!”
You looked down at yourself — the once-beautiful dress now filthy and shredded — then up at the stranger towering over you. His green eyes were narrowed in clear irritation, jaw clenched like he was seconds away from shoving you into the street and bolting the door.
A wild, desperate plan came to your mind.
You pushed yourself up on shaky legs, ignoring the sharp pain in your cut feet. Before he could step away, you grabbed his large, calloused hand with both of yours, clinging desperately. His palm was warm, rough, and still faintly sticky with dried blood.
Turning to the three women with the most exhausted yet radiant smile you could force, you announced clearly:
“This is my husband.”
The words rang in the quiet night air.
The women froze.
You kept going, voice trembling but determined. “We were married in secret this evening. My family didn’t approve — they tried to sell me off to a cruel lord to settle their debts. So I ran away through the forest to reach him. The dress… it got ruined on the way, but I’m here now. I’m exactly where I belong.”
Silence stretched for a heartbeat.
Then the women erupted.
“The butcher got married?!” the tallest one exclaimed, eyes wide. “Toji Fushiguro actually took a wife? I never thought I’d live to see the day!”
One of the younger women clapped her hands together, beaming. “Look at her, even all torn up she’s lovely! Brave thing, running through the woods in the middle of the night just to get to her husband.”
The third woman laughed warmly. “We’ll bring fresh bread and some stew first thing in the morning for you newlyweds. Can’t have Toji’s new wife going hungry on her first day here!”
Toji.
So that was his name. Toji Fushiguro.
You felt the man — Toji — stiffen beside you. His massive hand twitched hard in your grip, muscles flexing like he was fighting the urge to rip free and deny everything. His sharp green eyes burned into the side of your face, dark with fury and silent threat. But the women were watching excitedly. The whole village would know the story by sunrise if he contradicted you now.
You squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into his skin in a silent, desperate plea. Please. Just play along.
Toji’s scarred jaw flexed. A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in his chest. For one terrifying second you thought he might expose you.
Then, in the flattest, most reluctant voice you had ever heard, he grunted:
“…Yeah. She’s mine now. Wife.”
The women squealed with delight. They offered more congratulations, promised gifts for the “newlyweds,” and finally bustled away down the dark street, lanterns bobbing and their voices already carrying the juicy news.
The moment their footsteps faded, Toji’s grip turned bruising. He yanked you forward so hard you stumbled against his broad, solid chest, then dragged you roughly through the open door of the butcher shop. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud that rattled the walls.
Inside, the air was thick and heavy — cold iron, raw meat, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of fresh blood. A single lantern burned low on the wooden counter, casting long, flickering shadows over heavy chopping blocks, hanging meat hooks, and rows of sharp knives.
Toji spun you around and shoved your back against the closed door. One thick, powerful forearm braced beside your head, completely caging you in. His massive body loomed over yours, heat rolling off him in waves. The scent of blood, sweat, and raw masculinity filled your lungs.
His green eyes were dark with fury… and something much darker, much hungrier.
“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, voice low and lethal. “You just told half the goddamn village you’re my wife. You got any idea what you’ve done, little runaway?”
Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel the hard press of his chest against yours, the sheer size of him making you feel tiny and trapped.
“It was the only way,” you whispered, breathing fast. “They would’ve dragged me back to Lord Kato by morning if they knew the truth. Now they think I belong to you. No one will question it. Please… just let me stay the night. I’ll disappear at dawn, I swear it.”
Toji stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. His scarred mouth twisted into a slow, dangerous smirk. His free hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his intense green eyes.
“Disappear?” he growled, thumb pressing hard into your jaw. “Too late for that, princess. You just tied yourself to me in front of witnesses.”
He leaned in closer, so close his breath ghosted hot across your lips. His voice dropped even lower, rough and full of promise.
“You owe me now. Big time.”
His gaze dragged slowly down your body — over the torn white lace barely clinging to your curves, the bloodstains, the way your chest heaved with fear and adrenaline. He just held you there, pinned against the door, letting the heavy tension coil tighter and tighter between you.
“Upstairs,” he finally ordered, voice like gravel. “Now. We’re gonna have a long talk about what you just got yourself into.”
Toji didn’t give you time to argue.
His massive hand clamped around your upper arm like a steel band and he hauled you away from the door. You stumbled after him on aching, bleeding feet as he dragged you through the back of the shop. The scent of raw meat grew thicker near the cold room, but he turned toward a narrow wooden staircase tucked behind a heavy curtain.
“Move,” he growled when you hesitated at the bottom step.
You climbed. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up your legs, but you bit your lip and kept going. Toji followed close behind, his heavy boots loud on the old wood, one hand still gripping your arm so you couldn’t possibly run.
The stairs opened directly into a small, sparse apartment above the butcher shop. It was surprisingly clean for a man who spent his days covered in blood. A single main room served as both living space and kitchen — a sturdy wooden table with two chairs, a stone hearth with dying embers, a few shelves holding jars of preserved meat and dried herbs. A narrow hallway led to what you assumed were the bedroom and washroom. Moonlight spilled through two small windows, painting everything in cool silver.
Toji kicked the door at the top of the stairs shut behind him and finally released your arm. You immediately backed up a few steps, the torn hem of your wedding dress whispering across the floorboards.
He folded his thick arms across his broad chest, blood-stained apron still tied around his waist, and stared at you like you were a problem he was deciding how to carve up.
“Start talking,” he said flatly. “And don’t leave anything out. Who the fuck are you, why is a lord hunting you, and why the hell did you decide to drag me into your mess?”
You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. You introduced yourself by name, then continued quietly, “My family is in debt. Deep debt. They sold me to Lord Kato yesterday to settle it. He’s a cruel man. Three wives before me, and none of them lasted long. He told my father in front of me what he plans to do on our wedding night.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I ran in the only thing of value I had — this dress. I thought maybe I could sell it in a village for enough coin to disappear.”
Toji’s green eyes flicked over the ruined white lace clinging to your body — torn, muddy, bloodstained. He let out a low, humorless snort.
“And instead of keeping your mouth shut and hiding somewhere quiet, you decided the best plan was to announce to the biggest gossips in the village that you’re married to the local butcher.” He took one heavy step closer. “You realize what you’ve done?”
You nodded quickly. “They won’t hand me over now. Not if they think I belong to you. The whole village will protect the butcher’s wife… right?”
Toji laughed — a short, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.
“Protect?” He shook his head. “You just painted a target on my back too, princess. Lord Kato isn’t the type to let his property run off. When he comes looking — and he will come looking — he’s going to hear all about how the village butcher stole his bride.”
He dragged a large hand down his face, clearly pissed off, but there was something else in his expression now. A glint of dark amusement. Maybe even reluctant interest.
“You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met… or the most cunning.”
You stood there trembling in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself. The torn bodice of the dress had slipped dangerously low on your shoulders, but you didn’t dare fix it.
“I’ll leave at first light,” you promised again, softer this time. “I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just… let me stay until sunrise. Please, Toji.”
Hearing his name from your lips made his eyes narrow.
“Don’t,” he warned. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re actually married.”
He turned away from you and walked over to the small hearth. He crouched down, added two fresh logs, and stoked the fire back to life with practiced efficiency. The warm orange glow slowly filled the room, chasing away some of the chill.
When he stood again, he looked even bigger in the firelight — shoulders impossibly wide, muscles shifting under the thin tank top, the scar at his mouth pulling as he scowled.
“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”
You obeyed, lowering yourself carefully onto the chair. The moment you sat, exhaustion crashed into you like a wave. Your feet throbbed. Every cut and bruise ached. You were filthy, terrified, and running on nothing but fear and adrenaline.
Toji disappeared down the short hallway and returned a minute later with a metal basin, a clean rag, and a small jar. He set the basin on the floor in front of you, then dropped into the chair across the table, watching you with those sharp green eyes.
“Clean your feet,” he said gruffly. “I’m not carrying you around if they get infected.”
You dipped the rag into the water and started wiping away the mud and blood as carefully as you could. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Outside, the village was completely quiet.
Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, studying you like livestock.
“You really think this marriage story is gonna hold?” he asked after a long minute. “Village folk love to talk. By noon tomorrow everyone’s gonna want to meet my mysterious bride.”
You kept your eyes on your injured feet. “I just need a day or two to figure out where to go next. I can… I can work. I’m not useless. I can clean, cook, help in the shop—”
Toji’s low chuckle cut you off.
“You? Working in a butcher shop?” He shook his head. “You look like you’ve never touched anything bloodier than a sewing needle in your life.”
He watched you struggle to clean a deep cut on your sole for another moment before he made an irritated sound and leaned forward.
“Give me your foot.”
You hesitated.
“Now,” he growled.
You slowly lifted your leg. Toji took your ankle in his huge, rough hand — surprisingly gentle despite the calluses and dried blood on his fingers. He pulled the basin closer and started cleaning your wounds himself with careful, efficient movements.
The contrast was jarring: this terrifying mountain of a man, covered in someone else’s blood, carefully tending to your torn-up feet.
“You’re staying the night,” he said quietly, not looking up from his work. “Not because I’m kind. Because if I throw you out now, those three hens will ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell to do with you.”
He finished cleaning one foot and moved to the other. His thumb brushed accidentally over a sensitive spot and you hissed softly.
Toji’s eyes flicked up to your face for a second, something unreadable flashing across his expression.
“After that…” He set your foot down carefully and leaned back again, voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna start paying off the trouble you just caused me.”
He didn’t explain what that meant.
But the way he was looking at you — slow, heavy, possessive — made heat crawl up your neck despite the fear.
Toji held your gaze for another long moment before he finally released your ankle. He pushed the basin aside with his boot and stood, towering over you once more. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his face, catching on the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth.
“Stay there,” he muttered.
He disappeared into the back room again. You heard the sound of water splashing, then heavy footsteps returning. When he came back, he carried a thick wool blanket and a tin cup. He set the cup in front of you — it was filled with cool water — and dropped the blanket over the back of your chair.
“Drink,” he ordered. “You look half-dead.”
You obeyed without thinking, your hands still trembling slightly as you lifted the cup. The water was clean and cold, soothing your raw throat. Toji watched you drink the entire thing, arms crossed, before he spoke again.
You lowered the empty cup. “Thank you… for the water. And for cleaning my feet.”
He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, like thanks made him uncomfortable. Then he leaned against the edge of the table, close enough that his thigh nearly brushed your arm.
“You really thought this through?” he asked, voice low. “Running in a fancy white dress, announcing yourself as my wife in front of the nosiest women in the village… What’s your actual plan once the sun comes up?”
You stared down at your bandaged feet. “I didn’t have time for a real plan. I just knew I couldn’t let them marry me off to that monster. I thought if I could get far enough away, maybe sell the dress, I could buy passage on a cart or a boat. Start over somewhere no one knows me.”
Toji exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but darker. “Selling that dress would’ve gotten you robbed or worse before you even reached the next town. You’re lucky you only made it as far as my doorstep.”
Silence settled again, broken only by the crackling fire. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed you still were — the torn bodice of the wedding gown hanging loosely, the lace ripped in several places, dirt and dried blood streaked across your skin.
Toji’s eyes drifted over you again, slower this time. They lingered on the curve of your shoulder where the dress had slipped, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the white fabric clung to your thighs.
“You look ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “Like a bride who lost a fight with a pack of wolves.”
Despite everything, a tiny, tired smile tugged at your lips. “That’s… not far from the truth.”
He pushed off the table and walked over to a wooden chest in the corner. He rummaged inside and pulled out a large, worn linen shirt — clearly one of his. It looked big enough to reach your knees.
“Here.” He tossed it to you. “Can’t have you walking around my place looking like that. Change. There’s a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up more.”
You clutched the shirt to your chest. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You’re still in my house. Still wearing that damn dress that’s going to bring trouble to my door.”
He turned his back to give you a moment of privacy, busying himself by adding another log to the fire. You quickly stood, wincing at the pain in your feet, and slipped behind the partial wall that separated the washroom. You peeled off the ruined wedding dress with shaking hands, letting the torn fabric pool at your feet. The cool air kissed your bare skin as you pulled Toji’s shirt over your head. It smelled faintly of smoke, soap, and something unmistakably masculine. The hem fell halfway down your thighs.
When you stepped back out, Toji turned around. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on you in his shirt.
“Better,” he grunted, though his voice sounded rougher than before.
He gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. Only one bed. You take it tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”
You hesitated. “I can sleep on the floor. I’ve already caused enough—”
“Don’t argue,” he cut you off. “My house, my rules. Get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
You walked carefully down the short hall, every step still painful. The bedroom was small and simple like the rest of the apartment — a large wooden bed with thick blankets, a single chair, and a window overlooking the dark village street. You climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.
Toji appeared in the doorway a minute later, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame. The firelight from the main room silhouetted his massive form.
“Door stays open,” he said. “And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. If I have to chase you down, I won’t be in a generous mood.”
You nodded, sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion was pulling at you hard now, but sleep still felt far away with him standing there watching you.
“Toji…” you whispered.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Thank you,” you said again, softer. “For not throwing me out.”
His expression didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted. He pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave.
“Get some sleep, runaway,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”
He left the door wide open. You heard him moving around in the main room — the creak of the wooden chair as he sat down, the quiet clink of a cup. The fire continued to crackle.
You lay there in his bed, wrapped in his shirt, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. The fake marriage. The village women who now believed you were his wife. Lord Kato still out there searching. And the terrifying, strangely careful butcher who had just tended to your wounds and given you his bed.
Sleep finally claimed you, but even in your dreams you could still feel the heavy weight of Toji’s gaze on your skin.
You woke to the sound of knocking.
It was loud, cheerful, and relentless — three sharp raps on the shop door downstairs, followed by muffled feminine voices. Sunlight streamed through the small bedroom window, warm and golden. For a brief, disoriented moment you forgot where you were. Then everything crashed back: the forest, the blood-stained butcher, the lie you’d told.
You sat up quickly. Toji’s oversized linen shirt had ridden up your thighs during the night. Your feet still ached, but the bandages held firm. You heard heavy footsteps downstairs, then Toji’s low, irritated growl as he opened the door.
“Morning!” a cheerful woman’s voice called up. “We brought breakfast for the newlyweds! Fresh bread, stew, and honey cakes. Don’t tell us you’re still in bed on your wedding night!”
Another woman giggled. “We’re dying to meet your bride properly!”
Toji’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking imposing in the daylight. He wore a clean black tunic stretched tight across his chest, the same blood-stained apron tied around his waist. His hair was messy, jaw set with clear annoyance.
“They’re here,” he said flatly. “Three of them. Loaded with food.”
Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”
Toji’s green eyes dragged over you — bare legs, wearing nothing but his shirt. Something dark flickered across his face.
“You sold us as newlyweds,” he reminded you, voice low. “So act like it. Smile. Look happy. Keep the story straight.”
He stepped closer and tugged the hem of the shirt down your thighs possessively. “There’s a spare skirt and blouse in the chest. Change. Quickly.”
You moved fast, wincing at the pain in your feet. Toji turned his back while you dressed in the simple dark green skirt and cream blouse. They were a little loose but far more practical.
When you were ready, Toji gave you one last look and jerked his head toward the stairs. “Downstairs. Remember — you’re my wife.”
The three women had already let themselves into the front of the shop. They had laid out a generous spread on the wooden counter: warm bread, a pot of hearty stew, honey cakes, and spiced cider. The moment you appeared behind Toji, their faces lit up.
“Oh, here she is!” the tallest, round-faced woman exclaimed. “Look at you, dear. Much better than last night. I’m Mrs. Sato, by the way! My husband runs the bakery just down the street.” She gestured to the other two. “This is Mira and little Hana.”
The younger women smiled warmly.
“You clean up beautifully,” Mira said. “You already have that newlywed glow!”
You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your lower back, warm and claiming.
“Thank you,” you said, offering a shy smile. “You’re all so kind. I’m sorry for how I looked last night… the journey through the forest was harder than I expected.”
Mrs. Sato waved her hand. “No apologies needed! Running away from a bad match to be with the man you love? It’s the most romantic thing to happen in this village in years.”
Toji grunted, his thumb slowly stroking your spine. “Wasn’t exactly planned,” he said dryly. “But here we are.”
The women laughed and chattered while you helped serve the food. They asked how you met, how long you’d been secretly courting, and whether you planned to stay in the village. You answered carefully, sticking close to the story. Toji added short, gruff confirmations, never moving far from your side.
Just as the women were gathering their empty baskets to leave, a loud, sharp knock echoed through the shop.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
This knock was different — heavy, authoritative, and impatient.
Toji’s hand tensed on your back. His expression hardened instantly.
Mrs. Sato glanced toward the door, curious. “Are you expecting more visitors already?”
Toji didn’t answer. He moved toward the door, positioning himself so his broad frame blocked most of the view inside. You stayed behind the counter, heart suddenly hammering.
He opened the door.
Two armed men stood outside, wearing the dark crimson and gold colors of Lord Kato’s household. Swords hung at their hips. Their eyes scanned the interior of the shop coldly.
“We’re searching for a missing girl,” the taller guard announced. “Runaway bride. White wedding dress. She fled the lord’s estate last night. Anyone matching that description come through here?”
The air in the shop grew thick. Mrs. Sato and the other two women turned to look at you with wide eyes, then back at the guards.
Toji’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “No one like that here.”
The second guard tried to peer past him. “Mind if we take a look inside?”
You stayed frozen behind the counter, heart hammering. Before Toji could answer, Mrs. Sato stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had gossiped through every scandal the village had ever seen.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said brightly, waving a hand. “You boys are wasting your time. That right there is Toji Fushiguro — our butcher for the last fifteen years. We’ve known him since he was a surly teenager dragging whole pigs through these doors!”
Mira immediately jumped in, nodding eagerly. “And he has a wife! They’ve been happily married for two whole years now. We were at their quiet little wedding ourselves. Very romantic.”
Hana clapped her hands together dramatically. “Yes! They’re the sweetest couple. Toji can barely keep his hands off her even when he’s covered in blood. Always canoodling right outside the shop like they’re still courting!”
Mrs. Sato leaned toward the guards like she was sharing precious village lore. “Honestly, if some runaway noble girl in a fancy white dress had shown up here last night, the entire village would’ve known before sunrise. This dear girl has been living above the shop for ages. Helps Toji with the accounts and everything. She’s no fugitive — she’s the butcher’s wife, plain and simple.”
Toji finally moved. He reached back with one thick arm, caught you around the waist, and pulled you forward against his side in one smooth motion. His grip was firm and possessive, his large hand resting heavily on your hip as he held you close.
The guards blinked, clearly thrown by the united front.
The taller one squinted at you. “But the missing girl was wearing a white wedding dress…”
Mira let out a theatrical laugh. “Plenty of white dresses in the world! Our girl here has been wearing plain village clothes for years. Look at her — does she look like some pampered noble who ran away last night?”
Hana nodded vigorously. “Exactly! She even makes the best meat pies in the village. We’d know if she was some lord’s bride.”
The two guards exchanged uncertain glances. Between Toji’s intimidating size, the three women’s absolute certainty, and the perfectly domestic scene in front of them, their suspicion melted away.
The shorter guard cleared his throat. “Seems like a false lead, then. Sorry to bother you folks.”
The taller one gave a reluctant nod. “Apologies for the intrusion. If you hear anything about a girl in a white dress, send word to the lord’s estate.”
Mrs. Sato smiled sweetly. “Of course, dears. Safe travels back!”
The guards turned and walked off down the street without another word.
The moment the door clicked shut, Mrs. Sato burst into laughter and fanned herself. “Well! That was more excitement than we usually get before noon.”
Mira winked at you. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got your back. No one’s taking the butcher’s wife anywhere.”
Hana grinned. “We’ll spread the word. The whole village will keep an eye out.”
Toji gave them a short, gruff nod. “Appreciate it.”
The women gathered their empty baskets, still buzzing, and finally left with more promises of future visits and gifts.
The shop fell quiet again, morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows.
Toji slowly turned to face you. His hand was still on your waist, heavy and warm. For a long moment he just studied you, green eyes dark and intense.
“You’re damn lucky those three are the nosiest women alive,” he muttered. “They just sold that story better than we could’ve.”
He stepped closer, backing you gently against the counter. His voice dropped low, rough around the edges.
“So the whole village’s got our back it seems.” His thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone. “This lie keeps growing. Whole village thinks you’re mine now.”
His gaze dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.
“So tell me, runaway… how long do you plan on playing my wife? And how far are you willing to go to make everyone believe it?”
You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. The counter pressed into your lower back, and Toji’s broad body blocked out most of the morning light. His hand remained heavy on your hip, thumb still tracing slow, absent circles that made your skin prickle beneath the thin blouse.
“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think past getting away from Lord Kato. I just wanted to survive the night.”
Toji hummed, low and thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to decide whether you were worth the growing headache you’d brought him.
“Surviving isn’t enough anymore,” he said. “Not after this morning. Those guards will report back. When they don’t find you, Kato will send more men. Maybe even come himself.” His fingers flexed on your hip. “And the whole village now believes you’re mine. If the story breaks, they’ll look like fools. They won’t forgive that easily.”
You met his eyes, heart thudding. “Then what do we do?”
For a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he reached up with his free hand and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone so rough-looking. His calloused fingertips lingered against the side of your neck.
“We lean into it,” he finally said. “Hard. You stay. You act like my wife in public — every smile, every touch, every time someone knocks on that door. No slipping up. No running off when it gets hard.”
He leaned in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “And in private… we figure out the real terms.”
Your breath caught. “Real terms?”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, dangerous half-smirk. “You cost me peace and quiet, runaway. You cost me the simple life where nobody bothered me. So you’re going to start paying me back.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the heat in his green eyes made it very clear what kind of payment he had in mind.
“I won’t force you,” he continued, surprising you. “Door’s right there. You can still walk out and take your chances on the road. But if you stay…” His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Then you’re mine until this blows over. Or longer. Depends how good you are at pretending.”
The solid wall of his chest pressed against you, warm and unyielding. You could smell faint traces of smoke, soap, and the metallic hint of blood that never quite left him. Your hands came up instinctively, resting lightly on his abdomen.
“I’m not pretending right now,” you whispered.
Toji’s eyes darkened. For a second you thought he might kiss you — really kiss you — but he held back, letting the tension stretch until it was almost unbearable.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because the village expects a devoted wife. They’ll be watching. Bringing food. Asking questions. Asking when we’re going to have little butchers running around.”
Your face burned. Toji chuckled, deep and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction.
“Don’t worry. We’ll give them a good show.” He finally stepped back, giving you room to breathe again, though his hand lingered on your waist a moment longer. “For now, help me open the shop. Act natural. If anyone else comes asking, you know what to say.”
You nodded, still flushed.
As he turned to start his morning routine — sharpening knives, hanging fresh cuts, preparing the counter — you moved to help where you could. Every time you passed near him, his hand would brush your lower back or arm — small, deliberate touches that looked casual to anyone watching but felt heavy with intent.
By midday, a few villagers had already stopped by “just to say hello” and congratulate the newlyweds. Each time, Toji played his part perfectly — gruff, possessive, pulling you close with an ease that made the performance feel dangerously real.
An older man dropped off a small basket of eggs and clapped Toji on the back. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you settle down, Fushiguro. She must be something special.”
Toji’s arm tightened around your waist as he gave a low grunt. “She is.” His fingers flexed against your side, warm through the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into him instinctively, playing along, and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath his tunic.
A young mother came next with her toddler in tow, offering a jar of preserved berries. She smiled at you brightly. “You two look so good together. How long have you been hiding her from us, Toji?”
“Long enough,” he answered, voice rough but carrying a hint of smugness. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head right in front of her. The casual affection made your stomach flutter.
By early afternoon the steady trickle of visitors finally slowed. Toji flipped the shop sign to “Closed for the Day” and locked the front door with a heavy click. The sudden silence felt louder than all the chatter combined.
You let out a shaky breath and leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself. “They really believe it. All of them.”
Toji wiped his hands on a rag, watching you from across the room. He tossed the rag aside and stalked toward you, slow and deliberate.
Gods, he was huge.
Up close like this, in the quiet afternoon light, the sheer size of him hit you all over again. Broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the fabric of his black tunic, thick arms corded with muscle from years of hauling heavy carcasses, a powerful chest that rose and fell steadily. The jagged scar at the corner of his mouth only made him more striking — dangerous, rough, and strangely, undeniably attractive. Those sharp green eyes pinned you in place, intimidating as ever, yet there was something magnetic about the way he moved. Like a predator who knew exactly how much power he held and chose not to use it… yet.
He stopped right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. One large hand came up to cup your chin, thumb brushing along your jaw.
“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said quietly.
You felt your pulse quicken under his touch. “I feel like I’m going to faint every time someone looks at me.”
His thumb stroked slowly over your skin. “You’re not fainting. You’re standing here in my shop, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you like you belong to me.” His voice dropped lower. “Looks pretty convincing from where I’m standing.”
The air between you thickened. You could smell the faint mix of blood, woodsmoke, and clean sweat that clung to him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming — the heat rolling off his massive frame, the way his broad chest nearly brushed against you with every breath.
“What happens when the guards come back?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.
Toji’s expression darkened. “Then we give them the same show. Or I handle it my way.” His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. “But right now? Shop’s closed. No more visitors. No more pretending for a little while.”
He didn’t move away. Neither did you.
Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, exhaustion and adrenaline twisting into something warmer, heavier. Your hands rose to rest on his chest, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath your palms.
“Toji…” you started, unsure what you even wanted to say.
He cut you off with a low sound. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that and I might start believing this marriage is real myself.”
His grip on the back of your neck tightened just slightly — not painful, but enough to remind you how easily he could pull you in. His green eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering this time, dark with hunger.
“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier,” he murmured. “How far are you willing to go, runaway?”
The shop was quiet except for the distant sounds of village life outside. No one was watching now. It was just the two of you, the weight of the lie, and the growing, electric heat between you.
You wet your lips, heart racing.
“I’m still here,” you whispered. “That should tell you something.”
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, hungry smirk.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “It does.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The shop was quiet now, the afternoon light cutting sharp lines across the wooden floor and the rows of knives hanging on the wall. Toji didn’t step back. He stayed right there, towering over you, one hand still gripping the back of your neck while the other rested heavy on your hip.
He really was massive up close.
Broad shoulders that strained his tunic, thick arms veined and scarred from years of brutal work, a chest so solid it looked like it could take a hit from a horse and keep going. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his face a permanent edge, dangerous and rough. Yet there was something about the way he looked at you — intense green eyes, half-lidded, focused — that made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
Toji noticed you staring.
“Eyes up here,” he muttered, but the corner of his scarred mouth twitched like he was amused. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna get the wrong idea.”
You swallowed. “I’ve never been this close to someone like you.”
“Someone like me,” he repeated, almost mocking. He leaned in a little more, voice dropping low. “Big, ugly butcher covered in blood half the time?”
You shook your head. “Not ugly.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them. Toji paused, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to decide if you were lying. Then he let out a short, rough breath.
His thumb brushed slowly along the side of your neck, calloused and warm. You could feel the strength in his hand, how easily he could tighten his grip if he wanted. The contrast between that raw power and the way he was holding back made the air feel thick.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “I’m not a patient man, runaway. And I’m definitely not a gentle one.”
Your hands were still pressed against his chest. Under your palms, his muscles were firm and warm, shifting slightly with each breath. You didn’t pull away.
“I know,” you whispered.
Toji’s jaw flexed. For a moment his control looked strained — shoulders tense, fingers pressing harder into your skin. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.
“If you stay,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “this stops being fake whenever I say it does. Behind this door, you won’t be playing a role. You’ll be in my bed. Under me. Taking what I give you.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip. “And you’ll moan my name like you mean it.”
Your breath caught.
Toji held your gaze for another long second, then slowly released you. He stepped back, rolling one shoulder like he needed to shake off the tension. The sudden space felt colder than it should have.
“But not right now,” he added gruffly. “You’re still half-dead on your feet and I’ve got work to finish before the meat spoils.”
He turned toward the back counter and picked up his sharpening stone. The steady scrape of metal filled the shop as he worked on one of his larger knives. You stayed by the front counter, watching the way his back and arms moved — powerful, efficient, every motion reminding you exactly what kind of man had just offered to claim you.
Every so often he glanced over at you, eyes dark and unreadable.
The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Heavy with everything neither of you was saying out loud.
After a while, Toji spoke without looking up from his work.
“You hungry?”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden normal question. “A little.”
He jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s leftover stew from this morning in the pot upstairs. Heat it up if you want. Or stay down here. Doesn’t matter to me.”
You hesitated, then moved to help him organize the counter instead. Every time you passed close by, his arm would brush yours — deliberate, not accidental. Small reminders that the tension hadn’t gone anywhere.
The afternoon stretched on like that. Quiet work. Occasional glances. The weight of his presence never really leaving you.
By the time the sun had fully set and the village outside grew dark and quiet, the tension between you had only thickened. Lanterns flickered in distant windows, but inside the butcher shop everything felt hushed and intimate.
Toji locked the front door with a heavy click and killed most of the lanterns, leaving only a single low one burning near the stairs. The warm glow followed you both upstairs, casting long shadows across the wooden beams.
He grabbed a spare blanket from the chest and headed for the worn couch against the far wall without a word. The piece of furniture looked comically small beneath his massive frame as he tossed the blanket over it. Then he reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion.
Your mouth went dry.
Firelight danced over his bare back and shoulders — thick slabs of muscle shifting under scarred skin, powerful arms flexing as he folded the tunic. His waist tapered into a sharp V, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Every inch of him looked hard, battle-worn, and undeniably masculine. The sight made something low in your belly tighten.
You stood frozen in the bedroom doorway.
“Wait,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Toji glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised. The movement made the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex visibly.
You twisted your fingers in the hem of your blouse, cheeks already burning.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you offered shyly. “The bed is… big enough for both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Toji slowly turned around to face you fully. The low firelight carved deep shadows across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every old scar, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his trousers. He looked even bigger like this — raw power barely contained, green eyes locked on you with dangerous intensity.
He took one slow step closer, then another.
“Careful what you offer me, runaway,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. “I’m not the type to hold back.”
You swallowed hard but didn’t back away.
“I just… it doesn’t feel right making you sleep on that tiny thing after everything,” you murmured, eyes flicking involuntarily down his bare chest before snapping back up. “We’re supposed to be married. At least to everyone else.”
Toji stopped just inches away from you. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around you like a cloak. You could smell him — smoke, clean sweat, and that faint metallic trace that always clung to his skin. His sheer size made you feel small and fragile in comparison.
He tilted his head, studying you like prey.
“You offering to share my bed isn’t about being polite,” he murmured. “If I get in that bed with you, I’m not staying on my side. I’ll pull you against me. I’ll have my hands all over that soft little body. And if you keep looking at me with those wide, needy eyes…”
He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.
“I won’t be able to stop myself from spreading those pretty thighs and finding out exactly how wet pretending to be my wife has made you.”
Your breath hitched sharply. Heat flooded your face and pooled between your legs. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, but Toji noticed — of course he did. A dark, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.
He pulled back just enough to look at your face again, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.
“I’m not gentle,” he continued, voice dropping even lower. “I fuck hard. I take what I want. And right now, I want to ruin that shy little runaway who dropped to her knees at my door and turned my whole life upside down.”
His hand came up, knuckles lightly dragging down the side of your neck, over your racing pulse, then lower until they brushed the neckline of your blouse. Not quite touching skin, but close enough to make you shiver.
“So think very carefully before you offer again,” he warned. “Because once I’m in that bed, the only pretending left will be how long you can keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”
The air felt too thick to breathe.
Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he watched the effect his words had on you.
“Still want to share a bed with me… wife?”
Toji’s words hung heavy in the air.
You didn’t answer with words.
You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and gave a small, shy nod.
That was all it took.
Toji’s control snapped. A low, almost feral sound rumbled in his chest as he moved. In one fluid motion he scooped you up, one thick arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught at how easily he carried you — his biceps flexing hard against your body, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your side.
He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down on your back with surprising care, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. The mattress dipped deeply under his weight as he climbed over you, caging you in completely with his massive frame. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the firelight, leaving you in shadow beneath him.
“You a virgin?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes searching yours like he was looking for any hesitation.
You nodded again, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word almost reverent. His gaze darkened as it dragged slowly down your body. “Gonna have to take my time with you then. Can’t wreck this tight little virgin cunt on the first thrust.”
He kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth in slow, filthy strokes while his rough hands explored every inch of you. He took his time peeling your clothes off — first tugging your blouse over your head, then sliding your skirt down your legs, and finally hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and dragging them off. When you were completely naked beneath him, he sat back on his heels and just stared, drinking in every inch of your exposed body like a man who’d been starving for weeks.
“So fucking small,” he muttered, almost to himself. His large hands ran up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin on the inside, then spread your legs wide open. “Look at this pretty virgin pussy… already glistening and I’ve barely touched you.”
The cool air hit your wet folds and you shivered. Toji’s eyes were locked between your legs, dark and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He lowered himself between your spread thighs like a man on a mission. The first slow, hot drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit made your entire body jolt. Toji groaned deeply at your taste, the sound vibrating straight through you.
“Sweet as hell,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”
Then he devoured you.
His tongue worked in slow, broad strokes, licking every inch of your soaked folds before focusing on your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling and pressing but not pushing in yet. When you started whimpering and rolling your hips, he finally pushed one thick finger inside you — careful, but relentless.
“So goddamn tight,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl. “This little hole is gonna fight my cock the whole way in.”
He curled his finger slowly, searching, until he found that spongy spot that made your back arch. He rubbed it firmly while sucking harder on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the quiet bedroom — slick, filthy, and loud. Your thighs started trembling around his head as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.
“Toji— oh gods—”
He didn’t let up. He ate you out like he was starving for it — messy, hungry, and completely focused on pulling every sound out of you. He added a second finger, stretching you open carefully, scissoring them while his tongue flicked fast and firm over your clit. The pressure built unbearably fast.
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your back arched clean off the bed as you came hard on his face with a broken, sobbing cry of his name. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, pulsing wildly.
Toji licked you through every wave, slow and thorough, drawing out every last tremor until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly. Only then did he pull back. His chin and lips were shiny with your slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at your flushed, panting face.
Then he shoved his trousers down.
His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veined, and longer than anything you’d ever imagined. The flushed head was already leaking steadily.
“See this?” he said, stroking himself slowly. “This is gonna stretch you wide open, baby. But I’ll make it fit.”
He climbed back over you, pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.
“Deep breaths,” he warned. “Gonna go slow.”
He pushed in.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply, a high-pitched whimper escaping you as just the thick head popped inside. “Ah—! Toji… it’s so big…”
Toji groaned, jaw clenched tight as he fought the urge to slam forward. “Fuck— so tight,” he hissed. “Relax for me, baby. Let me in.”
You whimpered softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “It burns… but— ah— don’t stop…”
He worked himself in inch by slow, careful inch. Every time you tensed, he stopped, leaning down to kiss your neck or suck on your tits until you loosened again. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the restraint.
Halfway in, you let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering. “Oh gods… I can feel you so deep already…”
Toji looked down at the bulge already forming in your lower belly. “Shit… look at that,” he groaned, pressing a big hand over the swell. “My cock’s barely halfway and I can already see it inside you.”
When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt so full you could barely breathe. A broken whimper left your lips. “T-Toji… you’re all the way in… I feel so full…”
Toji stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he kissed you slow and deep. “Good girl,” he praised, voice strained. “Taking every inch of my cock on your first time. Such a perfect little wife.”
When your whimpers turned into soft, needy moans, he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet drag of his thick cock against your walls made you cry out.
“Feel that?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? Gonna breed this cunt so full tonight.”
“Ah—! Yes… I feel it,” you moaned, voice trembling. “It’s so deep… Toji—!”
His pace gradually picked up. The bed started creaking rhythmically as he fucked you harder, deeper. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth.
“Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Pump this tight womb full of my cum until it takes. Want you walking around the village with my kid growing inside you. Everyone’s gonna know exactly who fucked you first.”
The filthy words sent you spiraling. “Please— Toji— I’m gonna—!” You came hard around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as you screamed his name, “Toji—! Ahh—!”
Toji snarled and fucked you through it, pace turning brutal. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed loudly.
“Fuck— gonna cum,” he groaned. “Gonna breed you— take it all—”
You whimpered and moaned beneath him, voice hoarse, “Cum inside me… please— fill me up—!”
He slammed in deep one final time and came with a long, guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after heavy pulse. There was so much it leaked out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him. Toji kept grinding deep, pushing every drop into your womb, hand pressing down on the bulge in your belly like he wanted to keep it all inside you.
You let out a soft, overwhelmed whimper at the feeling of being so full of him.
He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat.
Then he leaned down, kissed you slow and possessive, and murmured against your lips:
“This cunt belongs to me.”
Toji stayed inside you for a while longer, gently grinding and kissing your neck, before he finally pulled out with a low groan. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your abused hole onto the sheets. He looked down at the mess with dark satisfaction, then rolled onto his back and pulled you against his chest.
“Rest now,” he said quietly, voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a heavy arm around you. “You’ve had a long day, runaway. Close your eyes.”
He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, his large hand resting possessively on your lower belly.
“Go to sleep.”
-
You woke up to warmth.
A heavy, solid arm was draped across your waist, pinning you to a broad chest. Toji’s body was curled around yours from behind, one thick thigh wedged between your legs. His breathing was slow and deep, but the moment you shifted even slightly, his grip tightened possessively.
The room was still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the small window. Your body ached — a deep, satisfying soreness between your thighs, faint bruises on your hips from his fingers, and the unmistakable sticky warmth of his cum still leaking out of you.
You tried to move again, but Toji’s low, sleepy growl stopped you.
“Stay,” he muttered against the back of your neck, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down to cup your lower belly, pressing lightly. “Not done holding you yet.”
Heat rushed to your face. You stayed still, letting him pull you tighter against him. His cock — already half-hard again — rested heavy against your ass.
After a few quiet minutes, Toji sighed and finally loosened his grip. He rolled you onto your back so he could look down at you. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but the smirk on his scarred mouth was fully awake.
“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly. His hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles. “How’re you feeling?”
You shifted, wincing a little at the soreness. “Full… and sore,” you admitted softly.
Toji’s smirk widened into something darker, more satisfied. He leaned down and kissed you — slow and lazy at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled back, he dragged his hand lower, fingers brushing through the mess between your thighs.
“Still leaking my cum,” he murmured, almost proud. “Good.”
He pushed two thick fingers back inside you, slow and careful, fucking his dried cum deeper. You whimpered, hips twitching.
“Toji—”
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your temple. “Not fucking you again right now. You’re too sore.” He kept his fingers inside you anyway, lazy and possessive. “Just keeping you full.”
You stayed like that for a while — his fingers buried inside you, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder. The morning was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and your soft sounds.
Eventually he pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while watching your face.
“Breakfast,” he said simply. “Then we open the shop.”
He got up first, completely naked and shameless. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the powerful lines of his back, the flex of his ass and thighs as he moved. He caught you looking and chuckled.
“Keep staring like that and I will bend you over the table downstairs,” he warned.
You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.
He tossed you one of his clean shirts and a fresh skirt. While you dressed, he pulled on his usual trousers and tank top, tying his blood-stained apron around his waist.
Before you left the bedroom, he caught your wrist and pulled you close one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“Last night wasn’t pretend,” he said quietly, eyes serious. “Not for me. You’re mine. Understand?”
You swallowed and whispered, “I understand.”
He kissed you again — hard, claiming — then rested his forehead against yours for a second.
“Good.”
He led you downstairs, his hand firm on your lower back the entire way.
The village was waking up outside. And for the first time since you’d run away, you didn’t feel like running anymore.
Toji unlocked the front door and flipped the sign while you tied on a clean apron. The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Sato’s bakery and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. A few early customers began drifting toward the shop.
The first hour passed in a surprisingly calm rhythm. You helped weigh portions, wrap cuts of meat in clean paper, and hand them over with a shy smile. Toji stayed close the whole time — sometimes reaching past you for a knife, sometimes resting a hand on your waist as he moved behind you. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was marking his territory even when no one was watching.
Then the bell above the door rang again.
A tall, sun-tanned man with kind eyes and an easy, friendly smile stepped inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, with the strong build of someone who spent his days working the fields. He greeted Toji with a familiar nod.
“Morning, Fushiguro. The usual shoulder cut, please.” His gaze shifted to you behind the counter and softened with genuine interest. “You must be the new wife everyone’s been talking about. I’m Haru. I run the big farm past the mill.”
You returned his smile politely. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”
He watched as you carefully wrapped his order, your hands still a little clumsy with the butcher paper. “It’s good to see a new face around here,” he said warmly. “You seem really kind. Gentle. The kind of person who makes a place feel brighter just by being in it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “If you ever need anything — extra vegetables from the farm, help carrying something heavy, or just someone to talk to when things get quiet — my door’s always open. Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely so soon after moving in.”
You tilted your head, completely oblivious to any hidden meaning, and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Before you could say anything else, the air behind you changed.
Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your hip, fingers digging in with clear possession as he pulled you back firmly against his chest. His other arm slid around your waist, locking you in place.
“She won’t be needing anything,” Toji said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I take care of my wife.”
Haru blinked, the friendly smile faltering as he finally registered the tension rolling off the butcher. “Of course. I was just… being neighborly.”
Toji’s grip on your hip tightened. “Neighborly is saying hello. The rest sounded like something else.”
The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Haru swallowed hard, quickly paid for his meat, and muttered a polite goodbye before leaving without another word. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle.
The second he was gone, Toji spun you around and backed you against the counter. His green eyes were dark, jaw clenched tight with barely-contained jealousy. One big hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip.
“You really didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice rough.
You shook your head, genuinely confused. “He was just being nice…”
Toji let out a short, irritated breath and leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “He wasn’t just being nice. He was testing the waters. Seeing if my wife might be open to something else. Offering you a soft place to land if you ever got tired of me.”
His other hand slid under your skirt, fingers brushing between your thighs and finding you still slick from the night before. You gasped softly as he pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them slowly.
“Toji—”
“Mine,” he growled quietly against your ear, pumping his fingers in a lazy rhythm. “This pussy is mine. You are mine. I don’t want you smiling so sweetly at other men. Understand?”
You whimpered, clutching his shoulders as pleasure sparked through your still-sensitive body. “I understand…”
He kissed you then — hard, possessive, and hungry — while his fingers continued their slow, deliberate strokes. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still dark with jealousy.
“Next time someone talks to you like that,” he said, voice low, “you let me handle it.”
He reluctantly withdrew his fingers, straightened your skirt, and stepped back like nothing had happened. But the tension in his shoulders and the dark look in his eyes remained.
“Back to work,” he said gruffly, still clearly worked up.
You nodded, legs shaky, heart racing, and turned back to the counter.
The rest of the morning passed with Toji staying even closer than before — a constant, heavy, possessive presence at your side. Every time another customer entered, his hand found your waist or lower back, silently reminding everyone (and you) exactly who you belonged to.
The rest of the morning dragged on with the same heavy tension.
Every time a male customer stepped through the door, Toji’s demeanor shifted. His hand would find your waist, your hip, or the small of your back — a silent, unmistakable claim. He answered questions in short, clipped tones and watched the men with sharp, warning eyes. You tried to focus on wrapping orders and smiling politely, but the constant possessiveness was becoming impossible to ignore.
By early afternoon, when the shop finally quieted again, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
You turned to him while he was wiping down the counter.
“Toji,” you said softly, “you’re being too much.”
He paused, setting the rag down slowly. When he looked at you, his green eyes had gone dark.
“Too much?” he repeated, voice low and deceptively calm.
You swallowed but stood your ground. “Yes. The constant touching, the glaring at every man who even looks at me... They’re just customers.”
Toji stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he slowly walked around the counter, backing you up until your hips hit the edge. He caged you in with his massive frame, one hand braced beside you on the wood, the other coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“You think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Tell me something, wife… What kind of husband would I be if I let other men think they can have access to what’s mine?”
His voice was rough, low, and dangerous. “If I smiled and stepped aside while they flirted with you? While they offered you help and soft words like they had any right to you?”
He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “I’d be a fucking joke. A weak man who doesn’t know how to protect what belongs to him. And I’m not weak.”
His free hand slid under your skirt without warning, fingers pushing between your thighs. You were bare underneath. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed your folds, he groaned softly — low and rough — when he found you already wet again.
“Already soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Complaining about me being too possessive, but your pussy is dripping the second I touch you.”
“Toji—” you whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from the night before.
He curled his fingers slowly, deliberately, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.
You moaned, loud and broken, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. Your legs trembled around his wrist as pleasure sparked hot and fast through your body.
“You can tell me I’m too much,” he growled against your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “But we both know the truth. You like it when I act like this. You like knowing no one else can touch you. You like being mine.”
His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the quiet shop. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook.
“Ah— Toji… please—” you moaned, voice cracking. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to him. He took full advantage, sucking and biting along your skin while his fingers drove deeper, faster.
You were right there — teetering on the edge, muscles tightening around his thick fingers — when he suddenly pulled his hand away completely.
You let out a desperate, needy whine, hips chasing his fingers uselessly. Your core throbbed, aching and empty.
“Toji…!” you whimpered, voice hoarse and frustrated, eyes glassy with unshed tears of need. “Please— I was so close…”
Toji smirked, dark and satisfied, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm. He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were — coated in your slick right up to his knuckles.
“Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His green eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.
“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal. “Look at you… so fucking eager. Whining because I stopped, sucking my fingers like you’d do anything for my cock right now.”
He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged.
“You can complain about me being possessive all you want,” he said, voice dark and low, “but your body doesn’t lie. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”
He suddenly lifted you onto the counter with ease, as if you weighed nothing. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs as he shoved your skirt all the way up to your waist in one rough motion, baring your dripping pussy completely. He stepped between your spread thighs, his broad body forcing your legs wider apart until your knees were nearly touching your shoulders.
His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh with unmistakable ownership. With his other hand, he freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already throbbing. The veined shaft glistened as he stroked himself once, slowly, eyes locked on your exposed, glistening cunt.
“Since you think I’m too possessive,” he said, voice rough and dangerous, “I’m going to remind you exactly why I am.”
He rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.
“Toji… please—”
Without another word, he pushed in with one deep, powerful thrust.
You cried out sharply, back arching hard off the counter as the thick head forced its way inside, stretching you wide open. The sudden, overwhelming fullness stole your breath. Toji groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke, his hips flush against your ass.
“Fuck… still so tight,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure. “Even after I filled you last night. This greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the heavy wooden counter creaking loudly under the force of every brutal thrust. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the empty shop as he claimed you right there in the middle of the day.
“Mine,” he snarled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another dark mark. “Say it.”
“I’m yours— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, voice breaking as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.
He fucked you even harder, hips snapping forward with powerful, punishing strokes. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, loud and filthy. One of his big hands reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, tight circles.
“That’s right,” he panted, breath hot against your ear. “My wife. My pussy. No one else gets to look at you the way I do. No one else gets to touch you. No one else even gets to fucking think about you.”
Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock with every deep thrust. The counter shook beneath you. Your tits bounced wildly inside your blouse with the force of his movements.
He suddenly leaned back slightly, gripping your thighs and spreading you even wider as he drove into you. The new angle made him hit even deeper, the bulge in your lower belly becoming visible with every thrust.
“Look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so fucking deep. This tight cunt was made for my cock.”
You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you. “Toji—! It’s too deep— ahh—!”
“You can take it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”
Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — fast, violent, and overwhelming. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as waves of intense pleasure tore through your body. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently around his waist.
Toji snarled like a beast, his rhythm turning erratic and savage as he fucked you through your climax. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds.
But he didn’t cum.
Instead, he suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep and slow, keeping you right on the edge of overstimulation. His breathing was ragged, sweat glistening on his chest and neck.
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss while still buried deep inside you.
“You’re not done yet,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and full of promise. “We’re nowhere near finished.”
Before you could catch your breath, Toji pulled out of you with a wet, obscene sound. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the thick stretch of him. But he didn’t give you any time to protest.
In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you over onto your stomach across the counter. Your chest pressed against the cool, smooth surface, your cheek resting on the wood as he yanked your hips back and up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your skirt was still bunched uselessly around your waist, leaving you completely exposed — bent over like a whore in the middle of his shop.
Toji kicked your legs wider apart with his foot, then pressed one large hand firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard against the counter.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice thick with raw lust. “Bent over my counter like a proper little wife. Ass up, pussy dripping for me.”
He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing your swollen, abused pussy completely. Without any warning, he spat directly onto your folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit and dripping down. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation, your hips twitching.
Toji groaned at the sight and used two thick fingers to rub his spit into your pussy, mixing it with your own slick, pushing it inside you. Then he brought his palm down hard on your ass with a loud, resounding smack.
The sharp sting bloomed hot across your skin. You cried out, jolting forward on the counter.
“Stay still,” he ordered, voice rough. He smacked the other cheek even harder, watching the way your flesh jiggled and turned pink under his hand. “This ass is mine too. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”
You moaned helplessly, pushing back against him despite the sting. Toji lined up the thick head of his cock again and thrust back inside you in one brutal, deep stroke.
The new angle made him feel impossibly bigger, reaching even deeper. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden counter as he immediately started fucking you hard and fast.
The counter creaked loudly under the force of his powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the empty shop. Toji’s hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke like he was using you.
“Fuck— this pussy feels even better like this,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, watching the way your flesh rippled red under his palm. “So fucking wet. You like being bent over and used like this, don’t you?”
“Yes— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut. Every brutal thrust made your breasts press harder into the wood, your sensitive nipples dragging against it.
Toji reached forward and fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he fucked you even harder. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He spat on your pussy again, right where his thick cock was stretching you open, and used his thumb to rub the saliva into your swollen clit.
“Such a messy little wife,” he panted, smacking your ass repeatedly between thrusts — sharp, stinging slaps that made you clench tighter around him. “Dripping all over my counter. Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it. Look at this greedy cunt swallowing every inch.”
Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. The combination of his brutal pace, the stinging heat on your ass, and the filthy words pushed you right to the edge again.
Toji leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he kept pounding into you without mercy.
“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he growled, smacking your ass one more time, hard enough to make you yelp.
“You—! It belongs to you— Toji—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and desperate.
He snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the counter shaking beneath you. His hand slipped between your legs again, rubbing your clit fast and rough.
You came with a broken scream, your walls clamping down hard around his thick cock, thighs shaking violently as intense pleasure tore through you.
Toji groaned loudly as your orgasm triggered his own. He slammed in deep one final time and came hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He kept grinding into you slowly, pushing every drop as deep as possible, his hips pressed tight against your reddened ass.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the shop were your heavy breathing and the faint drip of his cum leaking out of you onto the floor.
Toji stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back and kissing the back of your neck possessively.
“Still think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured against your skin, voice dark and satisfied.
You could only whimper in response, too overwhelmed to form words. Your body was trembling, pressed against the counter, pussy still fluttering weakly around his thick cock. Every small shift made you feel the mess he’d left inside you — warm, sticky, and so full it was leaking down your thighs.
Toji let out a low, rumbling sound of approval. He stayed deep for a long moment, grinding slow and lazy, pushing his cum even deeper as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it escaping. His large hand smoothed over the reddened skin of your ass where he’d spanked you, almost soothing now, before giving one last firm squeeze.
“Answer me,” he said quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“…No,” you breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t.”
He hummed, clearly pleased. He finally pulled out slowly, watching with dark eyes as a thick trail of his cum dripped from your abused hole onto the floor. The sight made him groan softly.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” he muttered. He used two fingers to push some of the leaking cum back inside you, then straightened your skirt with surprising care.
Toji helped you stand on shaky legs, turning you to face him. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing your flushed cheek as he studied your expression — eyes glassy, lips swollen, hair messy.
“You’re going to feel me for the rest of the day,” he said, voice low. “Every step. Every time you move. I want you thinking about who fucked you over this counter.”
He leaned in and kissed you — slower this time, but still deep and possessive. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.
“Clean yourself up a little,” he told you, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “We’ve still got half a day left.”
Toji stepped back, tucking himself away and adjusting his apron like nothing had happened, though the dark, satisfied glint in his eyes remained.
You stood there on unsteady legs, heart still racing, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly leaking down your inner thighs.
And somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.
a/n: aren't the old hags kinda iconic? lmk what you think and if you'd be interested in a part two! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
Starting over in Texas was supposed to be simple. New land, new rules. Just Beth, Rip and their son, Carter, against the world.
Then you came along.
Drawn into their orbit, you become something more than an outsider, reshaping the life they thought they wanted into something deeper, riskier, and impossible to walk away from.
Beth awakens to find her husband staring at her, his soft baby blue eyes filled with unconditional love as he smiles warmly. “Good mornin’, baby”
She returns his smile. “Mornin’, handsome”
They share a kiss, soft and gentle. Rip delicately strokes her hair, fingers tangling in light auburn strands. Beth pulls away and rests her chin on his chest as she looks at him through her lashes.
“Where’s Y/N?”
As if on cue, the sound of you cursing somewhat loudly reaches their ears. Rip gestures hopelessly to their ajar bedroom door. “There’s your answer”
Beth playfully swats his shoulder before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.
Rip shamelessly lets his eyes roam over his wife’s naked figure before it's hidden away under a silk robe that she ties loosely around her waist.
“I’m gonna go check on her”
“Mh. Make sure she’s ain’t burning down our kitchen”
Beth shoots him a playful look before rolling her eyes and leaving the bedroom. Her feet pad across the floor as she walks through the house. When she reaches the kitchen, she sees you wiping something off the counter with a napkin that you throw into the trash can when you’re done.
You let out a frustrated breath before turning around and locking eyes with her. Your shoulders sag, some of the tension leaving them. “Hey”
“Hey”
You stare at Beth’s exposed chest as she makes her way towards you. You subconsciously lick your lips. She lets out an amused hum, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips before she reaches past you to retrieve her mug from the cupboard. Her free hand grasps at your hip, squeezing teasingly.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home”
You freeze up for a moment, your breath caught in your throat. You didn't think much about making breakfast this morning; simple pancakes with cut fruits on the side. You also brewed a fresh pot of coffee. Fuck. “Sorry. I should’ve asked before doing all of this. I just wanted to.. repay you for last night” You cringe internally at your choice of words.
“So what you’re saying is that we fucked you so good, you’re rewarding us with pancakes. Is that right?” Beth has her back turned to you while she pours coffee into her mug. “Does that mean the other times weren’t as reward-worthy?”
“No. Yes. I mean-“
“Relax, sweetheart. I’m fucking with you”
You watch Beth put creamer and sugar into her coffee. You breathe out. “I hate it when you do that”
“Not my fault you’re so easy to trick”
Beth turns around to face you. She leans against the counter while raising the mug to her lips. After she’s taken a sip, the warm liquid easing down her throat when she swallows, she palms the mug with both hands, letting the heat that the coffee provides sting her flesh like a thousand tiny lightning bolts.
She watches as you maneuver around the kitchen to make yourself a plate. Two fluffy pancakes stacked on top of each other with mixed fruit on the side. Her head tilts curiously when you pour maple syrup onto a saucer that you put on your plate. You take your plate and put it on the dining table in front of one of the chairs. You go back into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice and see that Beth has made herself a plate too. She joins you at the table. You eat in comfortable silence.
Rip comes in maybe fifteen minutes later dressed in his usual long sleeve black denim shirt and blue jeans combination. He stands behind Beth before leaning down to press a kiss on top of her head.
The two of them engage in casual conversation. You subconsciously tune them out, their voices fading into white noise as you continue to eat your breakfast. At some point, Beth taps her fork against your plate, causing you to look up at her.
“Are you listening to me?”
You blink. “Yeah. Of course I am”
“Really? What did I just say to Rip?”
“Something about.. the ranch?”
You hear Rip huff a laugh from the kitchen.
When Beth stares you down for your response, you smile awkwardly at her with all thirty-two teeth before digging back into your breakfast. You stab a piece of pineapple. “Okay, so I wasn’t paying attention. You weren’t even talking to me”
“That’s irrelevant. You can’t disassociate like that when Rip and I are talking. Not with us”
“Fine”
Beth clenches her jaw at your flippant response. She stands up with force, her chair scraping loudly across the floor as a result. She puts her empty mug on top of her equally empty plate. “Sometimes I don’t even know why I bother with you, Y/N”
Your hand stills, your fork completely rigid in the piece of pancake you had just cut. You look up to see the older woman walking away from you as she heads into the kitchen. You flinch when you hear her toss the dishes into the sink.
You purse your lips. Your chair doesn’t make a sound when you stand up and go upstairs, your feet padding quietly as they ascend the staircase.
In the kitchen, Rip stands beside his wife as she - somewhat angrily - washes the dishes.
“That girl..” Beth laughs in disbelief at your sheer fucking audacity. “I’m convinced she does this on purpose sometimes just to piss me the fuck off”
“Looks like she’s doing a great job”
Beth scoffs humorously while rinsing off a plate and putting it on the rack to dry. “You don’t find it irritating when Y/N acts like that?”
Rip sucks a breath through his teeth. “Doesn’t bother me” He says, a toothpick nestled between his lips at the right edge of his mouth.
“Well, maybe it should”
“Baby, I think you’re forgetting that Y/N’s a lot younger than us. She’s from Carter’s generation and they’re all sorts of different from us. They’re more observant and sensitive. At least Y/N is”
“She’s not made of glass, Rip”
“No” Rip agrees, his eyes looking out the casement window above the sink. “Y/N’s made of something far worse. You knew that the moment we met her”
Beth presses her lips into a thin line as she recalls the night when she and Rip first saw you.
It was at a bar. Beth and Rip were fairly new to town and Carter was out on a date so they decided to have a little night-out of their own. The bar wasn’t crowded, but it was certainly lively. You were behind the bar, half-assing the drink orders of people who were far too drunk to complain.
Then you saw them.
Your eyes fell on Beth first. Your lips parted involuntarily at the sight of her. Rip wasn’t bad looking either, but something about the redhead made your heart skip a beat. When her light green eyes finally found yours, it was like everything went still. Then she bared her teeth in a smile that felt both like a tease and a warning.
You were in their grasp before you even knew it.
That was almost two months ago.
Presently, Beth turns around to lean against the sink. Her arms are crossed over her chest. “I don’t understand why she’s so avoidant one minute and then all clingy and wanting the next”
“Hm. Remind you of someone?”
Beth playfully hits her husband, causing him to chuckle. He shakes his head before finally fixing himself something to eat, a teasing smile still lingering on his lips. She’s smiling now too.
It falters a little when she takes Rip’s words into consideration. He’s not wrong. As much as she hates to admit it, Y/N reminds her of the girl she used to be. The girl who played with Rip’s feelings whenever it suited her. That girl was selfish and angry at the world for what had been done to her.
Beth’s thoughts are interrupted when she hears a car engine start followed by the sound of tires reversing in a hurry. She makes it outside just moments before Y/N’s white Chevrolet Camaro disappears from view as it's driven further and further away from the Dutton ranch.
Inside the car, you mask an emotionless expression. You’re done with the Dutton’s. You won’t stay where you’re not wanted. Not again.
Two weeks or so pass by. You haven’t seen or heard from either Beth or Rip. The latter is probably (and definitely) more of an issue on your part because you blocked their numbers the second you came home after you left their ranch. As for the former, well.. you’ve been kind of cooped up in your apartment every day. You’ve been eating all sorts of weird food combinations (mostly because your groceries were running out, but also) to ignore the hole you feel in your chest. The yogurt and pickles are a wake-up call. So, at 7PM, you get off your ass, put on a hoodie to go with your sweats, grab your purse and go out to get some real food to eat.
You drive to your local Chinese restaurant and order enough food to feed a family of three minimum. You’re so hungry that you eat the entire container of chow mein right there in the parking lot. You’re also so invested in your meal that you don’t seem to notice the elderly owner’s wife shaking her head in clear disappointment from the outward corner of the partly vacant restaurant.
After that, you go home.
Once you’re back in the safety and comfort of your apartment, you dig into the rest of your food. What’s leftover is put into the fridge for another day.
You decide to call it a night.
But not before you rush to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet. You hold your hair back as you retch and heave into the bowl, vomit spilling from your mouth like a faulty faucet. Once you’re sure you’re done throwing up, you flush the mess away and go to the sink to clean your hands and mouth. Afterwards, you go into the kitchen to grab a can of sprite. You take a few sips hoping to relieve some of your nausea. You drink about half before putting the can back into the fridge and going to bed.
The next morning you go back to work. You’re grateful to your boss for allowing you to take a few days off of work. And they say working at a bar doesn’t have its perks (besides the free booze).
You stock up on alcohol then when you’re done you help with what you can in the kitchen as a way to make up for the days you missed. You make a joke to the line-cook, Travis, while you help him dice up a couple onions. You tell him not to undercook the chicken because you think got food poisoning from the chicken you ate at that Chinese restaurant. You told him how you threw up and he glanced at you from the corners of his judgmental brown eyes, effectively silencing you. TMI I guess.
When Hannah, your coworker, mentions that she left her phone at home, you offer to walk with her to her apartment. You didn’t realize how fucking hot it was going to be. While Hannah obliviously chats away, you take off your jacket and tie it around your waist. Beads of sweat drip down your forehead, shoulders and arms from where your tank top leaves you exposed. You swallow thickly as your feet start to feel heavier and heavier. Your skin feels hot and you swear you can hear your heart beating out of your chest. Your skin feels dry now.
The last thing you hear is Hannah calling your name before everything fades to black.
When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by the sight of a square white ceiling. There’s a sort of sterile scent in the air that makes you scrunch up your nose from the strength of it. The last thing you register is a heart monitor beating to your left. You look to your right and lay eyes on the last two fucking people that you wanted to see.
You sit up immediately. “Wha-“ You pause, your mouth feeling like you have just eaten hot sand.
Rip gets up from his seat to pour some cold water into your cup. Beth remains rooted to her chair.
Despite being upset, you grab the cup when he hands it to you and drink it in big, needy gulps. The man sets the pitcher back down on the overbed table. Finally, Beth rises from her chair and comes to stand beside her husband.
You set the empty cup on the table and look up at them. “What are you doing here?”
Rip tsks, moving his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “You really hate us that much now that you don’t even wanna know why you’re in the hospital?”
You furrow your brows and look down at yourself. He’s.. right. You’re in a hospital gown on a hospital bed in a hospital room. Still, you cross your arms over your chest in a stubborn manner. “That doesn’t answer my question”
“You fainted” Beth tells you. “The doctor said you had a heatstroke. That girl you were with really had to go to work. She said she couldn’t miss her shift for anything or else she’d get fired again”
Yeah, that tracks for Hannah.
Beth continues. “The nurse called me because I was listed as your emergency contact” Her eyes don’t leave you. “So that’s why we’re here”
Your eyes move away from them, landing on the impersonal blue sheet of the bed. “I thought blocking someone automatically removed them as your emergency contact. Lesson learned”
The couple standing next to you share a glance.
Beth takes a breath. “Y/N, we need to talk”
“No. I don’t think we do, Beth”
“Y/N” Rip warns.
“Rip” You say back to him, mocking his low voice.
“Y/N, stop this” Beth says, her patience wearing thin. “You’re being childish and for what? Talk to us instead of deflecting. You’re bed-bound for the time being so you can’t run away from us. Not this time”
You glare at her. “I don’t ‘run away.’ I just know when I’m not wanted”
“When have we ever made you feel unwanted, Y/N?” Rip asks, something in his tone betraying the underlying hurt he feels because of your actions.
His wife stares at you as she awaits your response.
A doctor enters the room without knocking, oblivious to the tension in the room as he stares at the clipboard in his hands. “Miss.. Y/L/N?” He looks up and sees you. “Oh, good. You’re awake”
Beth shifts, turning to face the doctor. “Hey, doc. Is everything alright with her?”
“Yes. Miss Y/L/N suffered a very minor attack. She just needs to focus on resting, rehydrating with water and electrolytes and avoiding heat/exertion. The latter is extremely imperative” The doctor takes a moment to look over his papers, making sure he didn’t miss anything. He flips over a paper and looks at the three other people in the room. “Other than that, everything is fine. Miss Y/L/N and the baby both look healthy despite this little mishap”
Your stomach drops after the doctor finishes his sentence. You.. no. He.. He must’ve misspoke. “I’m sorry” You laugh in slight disbelief. “This has to be a mistake. I’m not pregnant”
The doctor looks at his papers again. “Says here you’re ten days past ovulation which means you’re around three weeks and three days pregnant. We ran a blood test to check for any complications that the heatstroke might have caused and found none. Your pregnancy was the only test we did that came back positive” His eyes darted between you and the couple. It seems like he finally acknowledges the tension between the three of you and wants no part of it. “I should get going. A nurse will be with you shortly to discuss your discharge”
The doctor leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. When Beth and Rip turn around to face you after the news of your revelation, you wish for nothing more than that the heatstroke had been fatal.
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Summary: Since Ser Duncan mistook you for Maekar’s daughter, you have been relentless in your teasing. (I think it can be read as a standalone, but it helps to read Shut Up, Ser).
Word count: 2,650
Tags: 18+/MDNI, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, (significant) age gap, younger!reader (20s), lil spicy at the beginning, never proofread, (please let me know if I missed any)
Disclaimer: I do not own any ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ characters. I do not claim to own any of the ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)
“Must I ride you because you are too old and tired?” Maekar’s hands stilled their grip on your waist, his face pulling away from your chest where he had buried it to press kisses to the curves of your breasts. He pulled back, tilting his head to look at you with wide incredulous eyes and a slowly furrowing brow. You were smirking with mischief, your hands settled on his shoulders as you shifted back and forth on his lap.
“What the fuck did you just say?” His voice was incredulous, his breath a little shallow, and then his grip was tightening, bunching your shift up at your hips as he sat up further. You almost fell back but held onto his shoulders and shifted with him, remaining on his lap as he leaned his back on the headboard.
“I was just asking,” you shrugged, pursing your lips to hide your smile as you watched the heat flare up in his eyes. “I mean, it would only be natural.” Maekar’s jaw clenched and one of his hands gripped tight onto your hair, your head pulling back a little sharply as you let out a breathy surprised laugh.
“Has that fucking hedge knight put stupid ideas in your head?” He spat out, jaw clenched, neck going red.
“I was only teasing,” you breathed out as he rucked the shift up over your hips again and adjusted himself to be in line with your core.
“You thought to tease me about a man thinking you’re my fucking daughter instead of my wife? And you dare tease me about this position when we both well know you will grow tired within minutes and beg me to turn you over and fuck you, you little brat?” He was raging, it was obvious in the tight lines of his body and the slight squint to his eyes.
You could not control your giggling, and you only stopped when he growled angrily and pushed up into you, silencing you with a sharp gasp and moan.
You sighed, long and satisfied as you snuggled further into Maekar’s warm embrace. Dinner was long since past and the two of you had settled onto a large chaise by the fire, a book on the little table in front of you from which Maekar read aloud to you.
You loved his voice, the deep gravel of it, and often asked him to read to you (despite his aversion to history texts). He had obliged you easily this night, wrapping his arms tightly around you as you squished your cheek to his chest and simply listened. He murmured the words against the top of your head, his voice getting lower and gravelier the longer he read. You could feel the smallest smile on your head as you nuzzled deeper into him, and he paused his reading to press his lips there, a small kiss.
“Would you like to retire?” He asked quietly as your eyes fluttered shut, but you opened them again, pouting and shaking your head for a moment. His smile widened at the sight before your own eyes brightened with mischief, your hand clenching in his shirt a little.
“Unless you are tired, father dearest?” And the smile fell from his face, an angry frown marring him now as he released you from his arms and suddenly began sitting up as you whined in annoyance.
“Don’t fucking call me that,” he spat, eyes flashing like molten metal. You pressed your hand to your mouth but the giggles were uncontrollable.
“I know the elder generations retire to bed earlier than us young ones,” you teased, and his lips pressed together so tightly they lost all colour for a second. Maekar stood, turning his head to glare down at you as you lay splayed out on the chaise, your hair a messy halo around your head and your arms outstretched toward him, your mouth pulled into a beautiful yet infuriating smirk.
“You insolent brat,” he grumbled, and you could see him almost shaking with rage. You felt something hot curl in your belly and a wondrous satisfaction arose in your chest. It was your ultimate joy to be your husband’s biggest tormentor.
“I’m only teasing,” you sighed, “and I am YOUR insolent brat,” you replied fondly, clasping your hands together and bringing them to rest under your chin. He bent down, gripped the back of your neck and lifted you up a little to press a long, hot, kiss to your mouth. When he pulled away, you were rather dazed and looked up at him with hooded eyes as he smirked a little, feeling slightly avenged.
“Yes you are.”
“How fares your daughter? I mean, your wife,” Daeron asked as he sat heavily down at the table. His smile was wider than any he had given in a long time, and you felt a surge of amusement within you. Though you were sitting right there, he had aimed the question at his father, and you began giggling incessantly, pressing your hands to your mouth as your eyes shined.
Maekar paused where he had been stabbing at a bit of potato and turned to glare at his son. His hands tightened around his utensils before he threw his fork down and growled.
“Does everyone fucking know what that hedge knight said?!” He yelled, glancing between you and his son, you almost doubled over in your seat, your face shining with sweat. “And how the fuck do you even know about this? You weren’t even there!”
“Stories travel, Father,” Daeron said simply, shrugging his shoulders as he took a long chug of ale to hide his building laughter.
You could see Maekar quaking with rage, his mouth set in a hard frown and his brow so furrowed you were sure the lines created there would now never leave. You reached over and gently rested your hand on top of his. He made to pull away but he glanced at your face and softened a little. Whatever his anger, however much his rage, he would never be so toward you.
“It is alright, my love, he was only teasing,” you finally said, catching your breath and leaning back in your seat. “I accept it as a compliment. It would mean my wonderful personality and beautiful features are a testament to you.” You giggled again, and though he harrumphed, he sat a little calmer than before and went back to his plate with a smug little smile on his face.
You turned to look at Daeron, and the smirk on his face sent you into another fit of laughter.
“Mmm,” you sighed softly, stretching your neck further as Maekar mouthed at it, his beard brushing and tickling the skin there. One of your hands threaded in the hair at the back of his head, the other splayed over his shoulder, your fingertips digging a little into the smooth skin over his shoulderblades.
Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling, your breath still heavy from your previous activities. Though he had slipped out of you, you kept him laying his weight on top of you, enjoying the feeling of being completely engulfed by him. You could feel his panting breaths on your neck and the rise and fall of his chest pressing into your own. His hands still gripped you over the ribs and on the hip as your legs bracketed his sides.
Both of you were completely bare, and you cherished such moments, the slow comedowns after the high ecstacies. He lifted his head again and pressed his mouth to yours, long and slow, his tongue gently caressing yours before you pulled back and pressed soft little kisses there.
“Mm,” he groaned, low and rumbling, and you felt a hot spark in your belly at the sound. He was far too enticing like this.
“I hope you did not hurt yourself in your old age,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke.
Maekar held his breath for a moment, pulling back to look you in the eyes, before his head dropped and a long sigh of exasperation expelled from his chest. His forehead touched your chin and he could feel the skin pull as you smiled.
“I am far too spent to argue with you at this moment,” he finally mumbled, shutting his eyes and speaking into your neck and chest.
“Is that due to the old age then? One round with such voraciousness, and then nothing left?” You taunted, running your fingers up and down the back of his head, scratching there lightly as if to soothe the effect of your words.
“You dare question my virility? Was it not you who begged for respite from my ‘voraciousness’ but three nights ago?” His voice was low, that grumbling tone of his returning again, and he pressed his fingertips into your ribs, threatening to tickle you. You squirmed slightly, huffing a little giggle.
Maekar gripped your waist and without warning, flipped both of you over so he lay on his back and you fell sprawled onto his chest. He huffed out a chuckle at the surprised gasp you let out, the little slap you landed on his shoulder, before you settled down again.
“I was only teasing,” you mumbled, as if insulted, but he simply pressed a kiss to your forehead and closed his eyes.
It was rare to have an afternoon free in this way, but you managed to gather the family for tea and cake for just a little while before the sun set. Aerion had quickly made excuses to leave, and Daeron had never bothered to show up. Valarr and Matarys strayed from the table to sit by the heart and discuss whatever they were discussing, leaving you with your husband, Baelor, and Egg at the table. Egg had called Dunk over to stand beside him so they could speak together, and you had offered the knight a cup of tea for himself which he had politely declined until you insisted and brought him the plate of cakes as well.
Maekar watched the interaction with a scowl, remembering what the hedge knight had said and the way he looked at you, eyes shining like a pup desperate to please. He would have stood in front of you the entire evening like a guard dog if it meant the hedge knight could no longer look at you that way.
You settled down next to Maekar, resting one hand on his arm and smiling in his direction. Though he did not smile in return, his face softened, and that had always been enough for you. You rubbed his arm a little before offering him more tea. He declined, citing that he thought it was a rubbish drink not worth pursuing, but he still held your cup and saucer steady when you poured some for yourself.
“Would you like more tea, Ser Duncan?” You asked, readying to stand and bring him the pot, but he shook his head quickly and proffered his cup in your direction.
“No, no, your grace, thank you, but no.” Maekar almost snorted and for once felt a little kinship with the knight. He clearly hated the muddy water as much as he himself did. You smiled gently at him and nodded, retracting your hands from the teapot.
“Perhaps a bit of cake then?” You asked as Maekar reached for the plate, fingers hovering over the little pieces as he decided which one he would nab.
“In a moment, maybe,” Dunk responded diplomatically, “after your father has had some.” Duncan turned red. You and Maekar both froze. Egg’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open as he glanced between Dunk and the rest of the table. Baelor’s eyes widened a little as well, a true feat as nothing much shocked him anymore. Your smile widened, your mouth dropping open like Egg’s as the knight scrambled. “Your husband! After your husband has had some!”
It was not Dunk’s fault! It was only because he had been thinking about what happened the last time, and trying to make sure he would not make the same mistake again!
Your laughter was breathy and shocked as you looked up at Ser Duncan, your hands pressing to your cheeks. Maekar threw down the pastry he had only just picked up and stood abruptly from his chair. He was turning a deep shade of red, an anger you had not witnessed in a very long time, and shoved his chair back to begin making his way to Ser Duncan.
“I- I am so so sorry, your grace. My gods, I am so sorry. My head is thicker than the trunk of an elm, I-” Dunk stumbled backward as the prince stood, but you were swift and stopped him before he could get past your chair, standing there with a hand on his chest, your face still wide with laughter.
“And I will cut it off the same fucking way!” Maekar yelled, reaching for his dagger as he stopped in front of you. He turned his head to glare down at you, but you did not yield.
“Maekar!” You gasped, clinging to him as he made to move around you.
“Father!” Egg yelled, moving to stand in front of Dunk.
Baelor stood as well, hiding his smile with a practiced ease despite the humour dancing in his eyes. He looked directly at Maekar and raised his brows at him.
“Brother, enough now. It was an honest mistake,” he sighed.
“A fucking mistake? The imbecile has said the same thing twice now, and I will not have it. I will fucking kill him!” He was like a raging bull, pointing threateningly at Duncan as you pressed your palms to his chest to stop him from moving again.
Valarr and Matarys had made their way back to the table, staying silent though they wished to tease their uncle.
You pressed your hands firmly to Maekar’s chest again and forced him to take a step back. You cupped one of his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you, and you leaned up and kissed him firmly and quickly.
“Eugh!” Egg exclaimed, turning away from the sight with a grimace as Dunk turned bright red and averted his eyes to the floor, shoulders hunching to make himself smaller.
“Ew,” and even Matarys, turning away and sticking his tongue out as if he was about to begin retching. Baelor cleared his throat and Valarr simply smirked, scoffing out a little laugh.
“Do not be so angry at little mistakes!” You scolded, rubbing your thumb along his cheek as the scowl slowly returned to his face. He huffed but kept his eyes on you, the hand that had landed on his dagger moving to rest on your waist. “The poor man is scared half to death because of you!” At that Maekar smirked a little and you refrained from hitting him on the chest for it. He was quiet for a moment more as everyone waited tensely for the outcome.
“Fine.” And then he was bending down, pressing your waist to his shoulder, and throwing you over it as you squealed loudly, his arm coming to wrap around your knees so you did not flash anyone.
“Maekar!” You gasped, lifting your head to stare at all the other men in the room with mortification. Baelor was just shaking his head, his sons gasping and laughing. Egg was wide-eyed and struck with the giggles, his hand pressed to his mouth, and Dunk was far too stunned to do anything other than stare.
“That ‘little mistake’ will cost you the ability to walk for the next few days, wife,” Maekar said with a smirk, smoothing his hand down your legs as he began toward the door.
“Seven hells, Maekar!” You gasped, hitting his back a little, face frozen in mortification still.
summary: when time calls for maekar to leave you, he makes sure you are left with all of him, with his hands, his body, his everything. and when he returns, forever changed, he proves it once more.
pairing: maekar targaryen x wife!reader (pre-rebellion/rebellion)
warning(s): SMUT, pinv, slight breeding kink, biting, soft-rough sex, mention of violence and war, injuries, slight angst (leaving for war), just domestic stuff
word count: 4.9k
a/n: fear not! i have a baelor version coming too, also i know maekar probs would have aged to how he looks in akotsk, and not in a year bur facial hair wise, we can pretend okay 👀
Trumpets had sounded at the first sight of dawn breaking, steel toed footsteps echoing every corner of the halls in their march. Banners had unfolded proud over every wall of the Keep, swords drawn from every belt that made their way to the courtyard, shouts of order to be heard from the furthest distance.
And yet, you had been none the wiser.
The sheets still held the warmth of the previous night, eager touches from skin on skin, the complimentary burning of citrus perfume and incense still decorating the air. And in the bed, your hands braced comfortably on the plush of your pillow, and just tangled behind you, your husband. The pair of you softly snoring as Maekar pressed his bare chest into your back, few scars of combat and training still graced and raised over years of experience. His arm placed over you protectively, fingers dipping just over your belly button. Only the sweetest dreams guarded by the man at your rear, chest rumbling with every breath.
Though such peace did not last long, nor did it ever in the realm’s tendency to break it.
The glinting of armour, polished and shined to perfection had replaced where the sun would peek through the curtains, practiced frames standing rigid and expectant in the doorway.
“My Prince.. your father calls on you. There has been news from The Reach.”
You mumbled, voices murmuring faintly through your dreams, but you did not wake. Maekar stirred however beside you, tugging you closer upon the company, head rising as his eyes squinted in annoyance.
“Why the fuck are you here?” He called out confused, smoothing the sheets over your sleeping form, covering you from wandering eyes. The two Goldcloaks stood there, faces plain and stoic, bowing as their Prince gestured, grumbling and hair perfectly mussed. He was in a different state to how they usually saw him, all properly dressed and stoned-eyes, instead he was taken aback, unguarded and curled into his wife’s side like a tamed house cat.
They remained their gazes on him, not daring to sneak a look to your form, even in your splendour and beauty, the Prince’s vulnerability had not shaken them, his stare still just as, if not more dangerous. They repeated their words at the command, sleep muffling them the first time, and that’s when the dreaded news came.
“Daemon Blackfyre has declared war on the King and your house.” One of them announced, the declaration ringing in his head louder than the horns had shifted him moments earlier.
He shot up, hands bracing the sheets. He had heard every worry of the council, standing at his father and brother’s side as it had been warned, feared to happen for months to come.
Though now couldn’t have been worse time. The kingdom was at last in some kind of peace, though seemingly it was swept beneath the dusty castles of the Keep.
He waved them off, still offended but understanding of their urgency, and he made no mistake of it, sighing as the door closed with a heavy thud. He fought with the idea of going back to bed entirely, cuddling closer to you until he was just above, elbow propped onto the edge of your pillow as he took you in. Still warm, still curled into his side, still blissfully unaware.
And had he had time, he’d have taken all of the time left in the world, but there was none, and his restraint was far weaker than he would ever admit.
Especially with you.
“My love..” He called out to you, and for the first time your body reacted, recognising the voice, deep and ragged from sleep, and something else beneath it.
Though your slumber couldn’t tell.
He moved downward, craning his neck down to yours, fingers patting softly through your hair, taking in the strands that fell across the pillow. He wasted no time, his free hand reaching beneath the blanket and smoothing over your side, tracing up and down the curve of your waist and thighs, inching.
You rocked back against him instinctively, feeling the warmth of the growing heat as you blinked your eyes open. He was already pressing kisses all over. Your shoulder, the nape of your neck, arms wrapping tighter around you as he rolled you to your back, the sheets curling around you both as he rose, caging you in.
“Maekar..” You slurred, wiping your clenched palm over your eyes meaning to clear them, flicking up to him. He gave a small smile, nudging your nose with his, silver hairs falling mussed and swept, replying by pressing another kiss to your jaw. His knees were either side of you, balancing as his arm slowly pulled your hand away, uncovering you.
“Let me see you..” He whispered, sucking a mark onto your neck that made you whine, raising his head just above yours, meeting your quizzical look. Your hands linked around his neck as sleep escaped you, waking fully with the press of his body.
“And what is this..” He contemplated telling you right away, or keeping it secret, his brows furrowing, only looking to you, memorising. He decided against it, knowing how you’ll react, probably scold him, unhappily chasing him away.
“I must go..” You went rigid against him. You were no stranger to that, that one comment that made you freeze. Early rising and leaving with hardly much word to be had until you saw him late into the night. But this was different, his voice was softer, wanting, a farewell not to be taken for granted.
“Go where..?” You quizzed, shifting under him, allowing your body to rise.
His kisses carried, moving along your body, meeting the skin of your breast the sensitive bud grazed by his teeth
“Far enough away that I want to savour you..” You moaned as his lips made there way to your abdomen. “Have to..” The sheets pulled down with every inch he sunk down your body, his teeth grazing over you, testing a bite at your sternum, right over your heart.
You had not known exactly what he was talking about, nor where it had come from, but the haze from the dawn and the touch of his fingers sinking into your folds, and with his mouth delicately across your body, you were torn. His silver strands tickled down your skin, the pads of his hand cupping at your breast.
“Let me have you, wife.” He mumbled through his own haze, driven by desire and longing, the unknown of when or if this would be the last, and how he wasn’t going to waste another moment waiting for another interruption.
His gaze watched over you, waiting as he settled himself at the end of the bed, hunched over as he withdrew the sheets entirely, bearing himself as well as you. The pale plans of his chest, carved down to his abdomen and the sharp trace to his cock. He was hard, aching, hands firming at your hips as you shifted them wide. You responded only with a whine, pressing your fingers to his shoulder.
Take me.
And he did. Sinking down into you as your knees bent up, his palms parting them with a single slide of his fingers. His face pressed into you with no hesitation, tongue dipping into your core with an eager desire. You arched into him, the night’s soreness still aching your cunt, but his mouth a teasing soothing to the pain as he lapped you up, shoving, licking and tasting with all he could.
Your hands moved to his hair, taking the strands between your fingers and pulling impossibly close. He groaned into you, the vibrations sending jolts through your cunt as he rubbed his nose at your clit, steadying himself into your heat further. He loved you like this, these moments, no matter the time or need, there was never a time when he didn’t long for it. You blissfully whining and moaning beneath him, like nothing else could come close, only his touch, taking what you wanted. Titles did not matter, nor even your status, just the two of you, with only the sweet call of your names through the air.
And he did not want it to end. He firmed himself up onto his knees, scooping his one palm around your thigh, sliding it over his shoulder, the other finding its way to the mattress, lifting you by a slight to cup your arse cheek, dragging you into him.
“Maekar..” You whined out at the angle, his nose bumping into you as his tongue thrusted into your entrance, curling into your wetness as your arousal coated him. Your one hand fisted the sheet, giving you more leverage to rock back against him, the coil in your belly tightening.
“That’s it, my love.” He mumbled with his mouth full, never truly knowing manners, not that he cared. You were the only thing he cared for, and right now it was getting you to come undone onto him, driving his tongue in deeper with every movement of your hips. He sucked down, lips latching over your clit as his chin found its way through your folds messily. You fisted his hair tighter, head lolling back onto the end of your pillow, pushed up from your body being tugged down.
You came with a languid cry, whining into the side of silk, body convulsing through your high as he fucked you through it, lapping up your juices in a lewd motion, taking you into his mouth. And he did not rise, even as you hips bucked with overstimulation, only doing so after pressing a kiss to your cunt, right over your pearl, passionate and delicate. He parted from you, a string of his spit and your arousal from his lips, dripping down his chin shamelessly as he smirked, ghosting his way back above you as you chanced to look up through lidded eyes.
“The beauty you are..” He noted, rubbing up into you.
He crawled his way back over you, kissing your hip bone, to your breast, sucking lightly over it as you pulled him up, his hands bracing either side of your head on the bed.
“Must you go..” His eyes met yours, properly for the first time, his face mere inches in front of your own. Violet hues raked over your face, taking in everything, as if to memorise you, burning you into his brain indefinitely as if he hadn’t don’t so many times over. He pressed a sharp kiss to your lips, almost bruising, sharp and adoring as if he knew the words he were about to speak were going to shatter you.
He lets you feel him first instead, the hard length of his cock pressing into your thigh, the taste of yourself on his tongue, your hands finding there way around his forearms biting back a moan, encouraging him on for an answer.
He bit, “My father’s bastard kin has inundated a call to war.“
“How..” Your eyes widened, following his as they dropped to your body.
“Fled arrest, and now he makes means to call himself King.” He mentioned plainly, unimpressed and reasonably agitated, though that was the last thing he had on his mind. His stare fully fixated al over you.
“But that means..” You reasoned, the words sinking in. You weren’t unaware of the battle your father in law had been going through for quite some time, since many years ago his very own father had decided to legitimise his bastard children, the realm had been in a quiet upheaval. One that had been under the heavy lock and key of High Council and lords until now. And the realisation, the final breaking point, now a rebellion.. you felt a pang of panic, your heart beginning to thunder in your chest.
“I know..” His voice snaps you from your racing thoughts, those blown wide pupils searching for yours as tears begin to brim your eyes. Your palms move to the side of his face, mouth falling open for words that don’t come. He only nodded, pressing his forehead to yours, pursing his lip for a short kiss to the bridge of your nose.
“You have me..” A silent assurance that all would be okay, though neither of you knew that. He pressed his body to you once more, the heat and growing need of him a heavy weight over you, and yet the feel of his hands around you felt weightless. You whined, desperate and upset.. all at once, and he felt it, with every bone in his body he felt it to. That want, that pain. His hands reaching down to hook your legs around him, and you let them fall, your calves rested onto his lower back, as his arms found their way under your back, scooping you up. Your back settled between your pillow and his palms, your arse braced firm into the sheets where he held you.
“Just let me have you..” He slid his face against you, near pleading against your ear as his throat tore open, voice straining where it threatened to break. “Please..” He breathed, the sting beneath your skin creeping up around your eyelids with all emotion at once, a sense of overwhelm driving you forward. You nodded, kissing at his jaw as your hands held him in place, your gazes locked together.
You couldn’t find words to speak, the only noise from you were the ones he pulled from you, his cock pushing through your folds as he lined himself up with your entrance, his lengthy curve settling its way inside. You both gasped, his breath stuttering deep against you as he pushed himself in inch by inch, both of you relishing in every second that wasn’t to waste, the weight of him inside of you pulsing with every clench.
“Please.. move.” You moaned, and his hips steadied, rocking into you at your command, breathing deeply with an exhale through his nose. Your fingers gripped at his neck, pulling him back down into yours as he thrusted, every pull of his cock sending you jolting into his palms. And he kept you there, firming you down, fingertips gracing your back as his nose pressed into your hair, grunting with every drag that connected you.
And he did not stop, neither of you did until you were spent and aching, inching you back down to lay properly on the mattress, his knees firming to the plush bed, driving into you harshly, reverently with his forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck, take me..” Your vision blurred, from the tears of pleasure and the pain that crept into your chest, wanting to tug him down with you and never let him leave. And by the Gods he cursed, wanting the same, wanting to stay inside of you, holding you that way as your mouth fell agape, utterly entranced.
“Perhaps I’ll fuck another babe into you for you to keep while I’am gone..” You moaned as he grunted, thrusting with promise, his hips stuttering as his thumb moved to your swollen pearl. Your breath shook, every motion too much, your back arching back into him as your breasts bounced, his palms capturing them roughly.
“Come..” He commanded gruffly, head falling at your side onto the pillow, lips pressing at your collarbone as he felt you tense. “Come for me and I’ll give it to you..” He bunched up against you, angling into your sweet spot, your clit vibrating with the rough of hisfingers, a silent begging that he was close too, and he wasnt going to last with you like this.
And you obeyed, your body faltering before you could. You came undone around him with a harsh clench, whining into the thick skin of his neck, muscle flexing under your touch with your fingers tugging at the loose strands of hair at the back of his head.
He followed not long after, groaning into your skin as he came, spilling inside of you in short, heated bursts, hips rolling into yours, with skin burning hot onto yours.
And as the horns sounded one more time, he grabbed your face, kissing you all over, his tongue sliding over yours like a vow. The sweat of your bodies colliding with where he still sat inside of you, not yet wanting to move.
“I don’t want you to go..” He shushed you with another kiss, passionate and meaning this time, one unhurried, and you knew there was no escaping that, not this time.
His eyes read everything he could not say.
I don’t want to leave.
“I must, I will come back to you.” He pulled from you as the shouting grew louder, men readying armour, distant calls for his presence.
The last chance.
His hands ran over you once more, dragging the sheets up to protect what warmth was left in the bed. You pulled his face back down as he hesitated to rise, fighting himself against all honour and duty, against his love that was so much stronger than it all combined.
More than many knew, but you did.
He groaned into you, his voice breaking without speaking, tears threatening his own eyes as yours did.
“I will come back to you..” He repeated, convincing you both of it, before pushing himself off of the bed, bare and naked, your scent and touch still clinging to him. His clothes were thrown on in a rush, undershirt and the thick of his breeches enough to protect from chainmail and armour to be placed on him by the squires. He gave you one last look then, the way you sat up in the bed, alone and lost, just as he had been. The sternness burned in his eyes, forcing himself away with a bowed head as he slipped out of the door.
——
It had been months since then.
That morning you’d spent tangled up in eachother, touching as if it were the last time, and as months passed, you wondered if it would be. Months of longing, waiting, worrying. Ravens had been sent but they had been lost on you, short words and no promise. You had taken care of the children, Daeron only five and Aerion now passed his second name day, you tended to their every care and need, even as their eyes searched for a certain absence.
Maekar.
Their father, your husband, who had spent far too long fighting, battling god knows whatever was left of a bastard army alongside his brother and their men. You had busied yourself with your ladies, passing the High Council chambers at every called meeting, in order to overhear the King and his court. It would have been frowned upon, punished scene, but the few prying eyes of squires and serving girls had paid no mind, knowing better than to test your fear and agitation.
Even your mother in law, Myriah, anxiously awaited her sons’ return at your side, finding what little comfort there was to be had in the privacy of her solar. In desperate attempt to escape the endless humdrum of reminders.
Death, duty, honour.
That’s all it was, not the fact many lives, amongst the ones you cared for most were put on the line. Though it was necessary, the slight of a King was no appraised declaration, and the realm would be safer this way, it did not help the fact your days were filled with fear. You oft sent reluctant curses to the Gods that had bestowed such a mess onto you all. And yet even despite your disrespect, though unwilling, by prayer and some grace by the hands of the Prince Baelor and Prince Maekar, had led the charge that ended the rebellion as it stood.
Daemon Blackfyre had been killed, his rebel army crushed and ambushed between your husband and his brother as a team, ending their father’s war in a battle what would be known for years to come.
The fanfare of their triumph had come first.
The Hammer and The Anvil they had called them, a thoroughfare of horses and celebration awaiting their return. Whispers had begun in the court of their return, and something had stirred in you. For the days that followed, soon to bring them home again, you had prepared, feeling at a loss. An uncertainty of what to do and how to act in your new present. You were frantic, excited, and nervous.
How would he be..? Has he longed for you as you had him..? Would this be the new norm..?
Those questions were surely answered upon the dawn they arrived, the sun peeking through your curtains, blinding and welcoming, the brightest it had been for some time. Your maids did not have time to wake you before you were up and pacing the room in your small clothes, feet padding the floor as they tenderly dressed you.
A light gown of crimson, adorned as it usually was to fit the house colours, lined in black, though understated, by your own request as not to strangle your aching heart with the tight lace of a bodice. Your children tumbled in soon after, afternoon soon gracing the day, in the hands of their nurse and chambermaid, clambering to your side.
You had smiled for once, not the brave one you put on for them or tight lipped for lords and ladies, but a bright, a true grin as Daeron hugged your skirts. The gaps in his smile shone just as wide in a mess of silver gold curls, raising Aerion onto your hip, as his small fists bunched in a familiar scowl, one he’d inherited from his father.
“Is papa home..?” You cupped Daeron’s chubby cheek, smiling down, your eyes flickered to the maid who had finished combing your hair, the first few to hear the news. Her eyes flashed you a bright agreement, nodding.
“I suppose we shall find out.” You urged him on, sinking down from the stool with babe on your hip, following after your son as he started for the door, through the corridors and into the great hall.
You had rounded the corner in a sharp breath before it escaped you entirely.
There he stood.
In a swarm of people, with nobles greeting, their King welcoming, and an exhaustion of soldiers proudly smiling. He stood tall amongst the rest, clad in dirtied black armour, chipped and broken along the plates of his chest. You paused for a moment, taking in the sight before you.
His distant eyes scanned the crowd much like yours did, your feet absentmindedly moving down the steps and into the expanse of hall.
“Papa..” Daeron called ahead of you, his small frame near tripping on the way to his father, who scooped him into the side of his leg careful of the jagged pieces in one arm, placing a steady hand to his back. He smiled, unabashed for once, gazing down at his eldest son with a unique softness. Baelor stood beside with his family, content and in a small circle as he held his eldest in his arm protectively and proud, accepting the well wishes of their return.
Aerion babbled on your hip, only just beginning to speak, mumbling only syllables that you could make out were coos of excitement, and you wiggled your finger at his chest, nearing the congregation. He was a sight to be seen.
A different one than what you expected.
War and battle had aged him in the soon to be year he had been gone.
It had aged him, not disgracefully, but handsomely. The weak stubble of his jaw had turned white in its growth of hair, thick and rugged. His hair neatly smoothed in preparation but the sternness of his brow furrowed deeper, his features striking prominent.
Though in your own staring, you were the sight that truly took his breath. He had searched for you the whole ride back from far in the countryside, watching every woman who passed, only seeing your face. Even as they pulled to the gatehouse, Baelor had to stop him from bolting right then and there, having to deal with the welcome party gratefully, as if they hadn’t just fought for them and were entitled to their own needs.
So he remained tight lipped, nodding where necessary, but his mind only belonged one place. There was duty to be done, but the worst had been over, the bastard was dead, and the war had been finished, waiting for another attack to brew no doubt, but right now in front of him stood the only important thing.
You, your family.
He had taken a stride forward with Daeron in his wake, clinging to his father’s steel leg as he held him tightly.
“Maekar..” His head snapped up, taking you in all at once. The most beautiful and only welcoming comfort he had been given since he had left. No proclamation of courage, or the walls of the keep could change it. The lightness of your gown gifted your radiance, your young son in your arms, the other in his grasp, eyes finding his so sweetly, it tugged something deep into his chest.
You closed the distance, giving all you could not to topple over him then and there, but uncaring of the stares, his arms wrapped around you so tightly as if you were to break. Aerion squeezed between you, hitting at the steel plate of Maekar’s chest in small, futile punches. “Careful.” His voice was gruff, gesturing to the point of his armour, resting the words on his lips, gaze lowering only to look at you.
“I do not care..” You managed as you cried a sigh of relief, falling into his frame as his other hand hugged your son to his side, his lips finding their way to the crown of your head.
——
An hour had passed since then, with you and Maekar seated beside eachother at the feast table that had beenextravagantly set up in the Great Hall. All had been well, celebrations were rife, the children gorging and smiling, cousins playing with each other as the adults drank graciously.
You were the most content you had remembered being in far too long, your hand not leaving Maekar’s even as you moved. And your husband had felt the same, resting his back into the height of the wooden chair, now shed of his armour, comfortably dressed in his crimson-black doublet.
Though one thing ailed him; how much he wanted you.
He had for every night spent in the encampment, trapped in the barracks amid dirt, unwashed men and the strong scent of blood and death. And all he could think of, could see, was you. You smiling, laying in the same bed that he left you in, playing with your boys, you in his arms. His stare became overwhelming as he fell into thought, so much so you attempted to do your best to ignore it, distracting yourself through your own want, though it burned into your skull. Every glance, every fleeting look that met yours, the tightening of his fingers around your knuckles, it grew too much.
And with the grown look of him, you wouldn’t have cared if he’d have taken you right then and there, on the table, for anyone and everyone to see. He hadn’t been against it himself, though he preferred you to himself. And instead rose, the chair scraping behind him, muffled by the cacophonous joy in the room, his hand tugging yours firmly.
He hadn’t looked at you, only sighting your children once who were already giving hell to their maids who attempted to feed them, blissfully oblivious. He had led you both through the wind of hallways to the very door of your chambers before he was on you, kissing you with a tender harshness.
“I wont bear any more of this..” He managed to breathe with his mouth against yours, turning the lock behind you as his hand braced around the small of your back, catching you as the door opened and closed with a rapid movement. You moaned into the kiss as he slid his tongue inside, groaning.
“I have waited far too long.” He admitted.
“You have kept me waiting..” He shrugged his doublet off, tossing it to where it landed on the armchair, the dim light catching his shadow as it met yours.
“A surprise our Prince did not take another while he was away and in need.” It was harmless, a useless jest meant to tease, though it would be a lie if the thought had not crossed your mind. He was loyal beyond belief, even as the women that attempted to compare to you in court had tried, his eyes had never nor wanted to stray. Though even you knew, war made men driven to do mad things, kill, take, lust.
“What?” Maekar snapped, pulling from your mouth only by an inch, still breathing in your space, like yours was the air he needed. His eyes squinted at you, dark and dangerous, but his hands did not move, only tightening around your waist, pinching just enough to make you gasp.
“You think I would dare?” He continued, backing you into the bed, step by step until the backs of your knees knocked onto the oak bedframe. He braced you from falling, his undershirt peeking the lining of his chest, deep, fresh scars etching the skin. “When you are the only one, when this body is the one I have thought of.” He leaned down, lips ghosting yours with an offended reverence, taking the words as a personal insult he sought to deny, and he had reason to.
For it was the only truth, you were the only one.
“You are what I came back for, what I fought for, and you think I mean to fuck a whore..?” He shook you firmly in his hold, breath stuttering with anger and desire. “Maekar I..” You reasoned but he did not relent, kissing you harshly as he laid you down onto the bed, your back falling as he followed, collapsing over you. “Enough. I have been without you for far too long, denied you.. and I wont take another fucking moment of it, not like this.”
His hands roamed your body, his fingers making quick work of the lace at the back of your gown, the lack of boning making it easy to tug off, stitching close to ripping with how he folded it over your head, your chemise bunching with its removal.
“I need you..” He whispered against your lips, purely vulnerable, more than he wanted to allow himself, but it slipped free anyway in a shaky breath, his breeches tightening with restraint he could no longer hold back.
“You have me..” You called back, palm raising to slide against his face, rubbing your fingers through the length of his beard, the feeling unusual, but you smiled through glazed eyes. His eyes flashed with recognition, anger dissipating in your hold, with intent bright in them.
It was not of telling, it was of showing, of proving you were his, as he was yours.
His palms moved the silk of your garment, revealing your breasts and body to him, the curve of your hips complimented in the soft candlelight, for once feeling the comfort of home. You. The tough callouses of his skin ran up yours, smoothing over your body as he cupped your breast.
“Mine.. my heart.” His lips dipped to yours, passionate and remembering, savouring you on his tongue, with the reverence of a man left longing could allow. He worked his way down then, sucking marks at your jaw and into your neck, licking a stripe along your collarbone as his fingers traced along your body. Moving across the stroke of your stomach, touching with the most tenderness he was able to give in months, finding their way to your core.
The heat was unbearable, a tingling etching your spine enough to make your toes curl, you too had been denied far too long, and the first touch of him had sent wetness pooling to your heat, his fingers collecting your arousal on his fingers, he groaned at the feeling, humming at your shoulder.
“Please..” You called out, wanting no more time to wait as your core ached.
“Where..” He paused at your skin, thumbing over your clit in languid strokes working you up further.
“Inside of me.. all of you.” He looked up at you then, gaze lingering on you as if to check, to make sure, and you only nodded, whining as you rocked back into his hand. And he could not deny you any longer, straining against you through the rough material of his trouser.
He found his way back to your neck, casting over your pulse as if to ground himself there, unsheathing himself with one hand and caressing your cheek with the other. A softness he had not let out until that moment, though eager to prove.
He eased into you, sinking in like he did the last time, worshipping and finding, filling you inch by inch as both of you panted. You stretched around him, cunt pulsing with the pleasurable burn his length gave, hips bumping into yours.
“Do not cease to know how I want you, no fucking other, only you, do you understand..?” He gave one last snap, eyes boring deadly into yours accepting no other protest, beginning to rock his hips. And you understood, you understood it well, his body reclaiming yours, as yours did his.
His breeches were shoved to his thighs, scraping the insides of your legs with every thrust as he set the rhythm, unyielding and merciless, snapping into you with a fervor not meant to remember, only to remind. To find what was and to stay there. His fingers teased along your throat, curling around the nape of your neck, holding you up to him as his chest shoved into yours, braced so tightly you could mould.
His cock thrust inside of you deeply, barely inching out of you as he rolled, hitting the spot that kissed your sweetest spot, and you moaned, gutturally and carnal, one that had your thigh curling around him and dragging him into you.
“Fuck, my girl..” He grunted, beard scratching across your face as he captured you once more, dominating your mouth with tongue as he took you.
There was no telling how much time had passed, the sheets tangled and pillows casted to the floor as the bed rocked, creaking with every movement you two remembered just how it was. Never once did you leave each other’s arms, even as your face shoved into the mattress as he rutted into you from behind, grasping your ass tightly with firm smacks. Or as you rode him, rising and falling down onto his cock as he gripped you in place, your clit teased with the light hairs at his base.
Even as you slowly fell into a lulled sleep, pleasured and blissed out, he kept himself inside of you, pressed right into your back as he moved slowly, languidly until you were left warming his cock, swallowing him with unconscious pulses that were leaving promise for the morrow.
His hand splayed over your lower stomach, draping his whole arm over you, as it reached for your fingers, curling them and intertwining them with his own. You hummed, whispering ‘I love you’s’ into the night and into each other, letting it to hang above you and into the air.
“I trust you’ll keep the beard..” You chuckled as he grunted back, pressing a final kiss to your neck that contrasted his hidden eye roll.
2087
baratheonpilled
dailybridgerton
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
vaporwave
