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The artificial taste lingered a little bitter on both your tongues, mixing with the sweetness in a way that made you keep licking your lips absentmindedly chasing the flavor. Satoru sat right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, the thin fabric of his shorts doing nothing to hide the warmth radiating off his skin in the stifling summer air.

Every time he leaned over to pass you the packet his breath ghosted across your shoulder and you could feel the way his body shifted closer inch by inch like he was drawn to you by some invisible magnet.

The little pops filling up the inside of your brain now, constant and distracting and you just hummed along to whatever silly story he was telling, his voice low and playful the way it always got when he was up to something.

You were barely listening anymore, too focused on the way the candy kept fizzing against your tongue, the way your mouth felt tingly and alive and the way his eyes kept flicking down to watch your lips every single time you swallowed.

Then that very lewd thought came to mind for him, you could see it flash across his face in that split second before his grin turned wicked. He set the half eaten packet down on the coffee table and turned fully toward you, his hand coming up to grab your face gently but firmly enough that your eyes locked onto his.

“baby,” he murmured, his voice dropping into that husky register that always made your stomach flip. “you know i wanna lick this off your clit right? just wanna see if it’ll taste good.”

You looked at him blinked once then twice your, eyebrows furrowing in genuine surprise because what the hell had just come out of his mouth.

“Wha— what?” your voice came out mildly in shock but a smile was already forming at the corners of your lips because he had just asked the most ridiculous thing ever. “Satoru… you’re so fucking weird,” you huffed out half laughing already feeling the heat creep up your neck despite yourself.

He just leaned in closer, those pleading eyes of his wide and sparkling behind the messy white strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead.

“pleaaase baby,” he whispered again, his thumb brushing along your jaw, he grinned childishly. “it’s for science.” 

You bit your lip a bit unsure of this whole idea, the rational part of your brain trying to remind you that this was insane and probably not the smartest thing to do on a sweltering summer afternoon on the living room couch.

But the other part, the part that was already growing slick between your thighs from the sheer audacity of his request and the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the entire world worth devouring.

It was winning out fast and before you could even fully form a protest he was already pushing you back against the cushions, his hands sliding down your sides with that familiar eager hunger sinking himself between your thighs like he belonged there and nowhere else.

The couch dipped under his weight and the summer heat made everything feel thicker, heavier more intense as his fingers pawed at the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down in one hurried rush along with your underwear.

You were soaked already, fucked squirmy from the heat and the way his eyes had been devouring you for the last half hour and your cunt was eager, glistening and ready because of that look in his eyes, the one that promised he was about to ruin you in the best possible way.

“fuck baby,” he breathed his voice thick with awe as his thumb brushed over your clit in a slow teasing circle that made you gasp softly.

“you think it’ll pop all over this pretty clit like I know it will?”

You just let out another soft gasp, your hips twitching up toward his touch involuntarily because the anticipation was already building like a coil in your belly.

He had the pack in his hand now shaking the crystallized carbonated candy loose as he told you, “just lay back relax for me baby.”

You did as he asked, sinking deeper into the cushions, your legs parting wider for him as he leaned in, stuck out that blue dyed tongue and licked a single slow stripe right over your clit just to get a pure taste.

“so fuckin’ sweet already— fuuck,” he moaned the vibration of it sending a shiver straight through you. "‘s just a little experiment riiight.” He said like he was reminding himself.

Then he took the half eaten pack and shook it again, the tiny blue crystals dispersing and falling right onto your bubble-gum pink clit. The pops started immediately then louder, the blue candy really fucking popping against your sensitive skin, the fizzing sensation sudden and intense and unlike anything you had ever felt before.

“fuck so pretty,” his voice coming out breathy, Satoru was mesmerized, eyes glued to the sight of the candy fizzing and sparking right there on your clit the little bursts making your whole body jolt with every tiny explosion.

You whined loud and needy because it was doing exactly what he had hoped, making your clit all sensitive and tingling in a way that had your thighs trembling around his shoulders.

“nghh—satoru… fuck… it feels—” you gasped unable to finish the sentence as another wave of pops rippled through you.

He wanted a taste so badly now and he was practically salivating leaning in closer until his breath fanned hot over your soaked folds. He licked it, pressing the blue candy up against your clit with the flat of his tongue and it sparked against his tongue too.

The combination of your taste and the popping candy driving him wild. You were going insane, delirious from the overstimulation, the way his tongue lapped at you spitty and sloppy and so fucking eager as he chased every last fizzing crystal.

“mmh— tastes even better like this,” He teased between licks, his voice muffled and smug. “all that blue popping right on ya pretty clit. making such a—hah fuckin’ mess already baby.”

Then he added more just to see it pop all over your clit again, the fresh batch of blue razz crystals scattering across your swollen bud and igniting another round of intense popping that made you cry out.

“nngh satoru… you ah— you better fucking hngh— lick it all up before i- i get a yeast infection,” you managed between shaky breaths.

He grinned slyly against your pussy, that cocky little smirk you knew so well, never leaving his face even as he hummed in agreement.

“oh i wouldn’t dream of leaving a single grain behind,” he purred. “promise i’ll clean you up real hahh— fuckin’ nice.”

He just sucked your clit into his mouth now. sucking and slurping with wet greedy pulls, transferring the last of the popping candy into his own mouth. Spitty loud slurps filled the room alongside your desperate moans.

So messy.

Your clit was definitely gonna be dyed an electric candy blue.. and the thought of it, the visual of his blue stained lips and tongue working you over like this only made you wetter.

He kept licking the syrupy slick, slow at first savoring every reaction, every hitch in your breath, every roll of your hips because this was Satoru and he was nothing if not thorough when it came to his little experiments.

The summer heat clinging to both of you, making your skin slick with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead as he buried his face deeper between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady while his tongue swirled and pressed and licked every last popping crystal away.

The blue dye smeared across your folds now mixing with your own wetness in lewd glistening strands that he lapped up greedily like it was the sweetest thing he had ever fucking tasted.

“look at ya,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to watch the last of the crystals fizzle out on your clit before diving back in. “all blue and sparkling. Whining my name huh? You like this hahh, don’t cha?”

You were lost in it, the pleasure building higher and higher with every flick of his tongue every suck every time he pulled back just enough to watch the candy pop one more time before diving back in to a another taste all over again.

Your fingers tangled in his white hair tugging him closer as the sensations overwhelmed you the fizzing the heat. the wetness of his mouth, all combining into something that had you teetering right on the edge already.

he moaned into you the sound vibrating through your core because he was enjoying this way too fucking much. The way your body responded to every little pop the way you tasted mixed with the blue candy, the way you looked all spread out and ruined beneath him.

And Satoru kept at it for what felt like forever drawing it out because he could. The drag of his tongue turning the “experiment” into something dirty and perfect and entirely his.

By the time he finally sucked the last of the candy from your clit your whole body was shaking your voice hoarse from moaning his name and the electric blue stain was everywhere.

A messy beautiful reminder of just how much of a menace he truly was, he lifted his head, blue lips glistening and that signature smirk still firmly in place as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“best experiment everr,” he said with a wink. “think we should go again with the strawberry ones next?”

ಇ.author's note: reuploaded from @/torusbabe

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Sukuna had plated the peice of honeycomb for you separately and then you both sat at the small table by the window and ate together, pancakes tasting perfect, fluffy and sweet, but Sukuna kept glancing at you with that hungry look he got when the honey was this fresh.

When the plates were empty he pushed them aside. "Baby, I'm still hungry," he said without shame, his grin sharp and full of promise and before you could tease him back he stood and lifted you easily onto the kitchen table, your sundress riding up your legs as he settled you right on the edge and he kissed you deep, his tongue sliding against yours until you were breathless, then he pulled back just enough to look at you.

Sukuna hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down your legs, letting them drop to the floor and he pushed the hem of your sundress higher until it bunched around your waist, exposing you completely to him.

He reached for the small jar of honey and the spool, the golden liquid caught the morning light as he drizzled it slowly over your thighs first, watching it trail down, shivering at the warm sticky sensation.

"Look at you," he said, voice low as he spread your legs wide with both hands, thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your inner thighs. He took more honey with the spool again and he let it fall in thick, slow ribbons right over your pussy, coating your clit in a shiny layer, dripping down your folds and mixing with the wetness already gathering there and some of it slid lower, sticky-sweet, and Sukuna growled at the sight.

He dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor without another word, mouth hovering closer, his hot breath teasing your honey-covered skin, then he licked a broad stripe up your cunt, collecting the sweetness with a deep hum of satisfaction, the taste of fresh honey mixing with you made him press closer.

"Only this cunt. Only you baby, deserve to be covered in it."

The his tongue circled your clit slowly at first, lapping up every drop and he sucked the swollen little bud into his mouth, honey and slick coating his lips and chin, you gripped the edge of the table, legs trembling as he ate you.

Sukuna was messy about it in just the way he kept licking and slurping loudly, his tongue flicking fast over your clit before dragging lower, spreading your thighs even wider, opening you fully for his hungry mouth.

He kissed your clit softly at first, then firmer, lips pressing firm and wet against your sensitive bud, Sukuna pulled back slightly and blew cool air over your honeyed pussy, making you twitch and without warning he spat right on your clit.

Watching the saliva mix with the golden honey before he dove back in and licked it all up with a filthy groan, tongue pushing far inside your hole next, fucking you with slow, deep strokes that chased every trace of sweetness, thrusting it in and out, tongue curling to gather more of your slick mixed with sweet honey.

"Fuck, you taste so good like this," he groaned between long, hungry licks, honey stuck to his tongue as he sucked your folds, pulling them gently into his mouth one after the other and he kept returning to your clit again and again, swirling around it, flicking the tip of his tongue hard, until your hips bucked against his face, the sticky strands of honey and your arousal stretched between his lips and your cunt every time he pulled back for a breath.

Sukuna, remembering the peice of honeycomb, took it from the plate, and lifted it to your lips, "Open wide for me baby." He demanded softly, Your mouth fell open on a moan caught halfway, and he pushed the sweet dripping, comb of honey inside your mouth with the big pad of his thumb, 'hck' you swallowed, making sure his pretty girl got a taste aswell, the sugary almost burning sweetness coating your mouth as you sucked around his thumb eagerly.

He pulled his thumb free with a wet 'pop', sticky strings of your saliva and honey connecting your lips to his thumb, he pressed his middle finger, index and thumb together rubbing the slick, till it webbed and coated them, then he took those two thick fingers and slid them into your pussy while his mouth focused on your clit, the wet squelches mixing with his slurps filled the quiet kitchen and Sukuna kept pumping them slow and deeper, curling them just right while he sucked harder.

He drizzled more honey over everything, making it even slicker, even messier and kept lapping it up greedily, tongue flat and broad, dragging from your entrance all the way up to your sensitive clit over and over.

Your moans growing louder and looking up at you, his eyes dark with lust, face glistening with honey and your pussy juices,"That's it, baby. Let me have my breakfast. I only keep the hives for this cunt. Only your pussy is worth the honey."

Then he buried his face deeper, nose rubbing against your mound as he devoured you, tongue moving faster, relentlessly on your clit while his fingers fucked into you with a steady rhythm, the sweet sticky heat of the honey combining with the warmth of his mouth drove you higher.

Sukuna kept going, sucking and licking without pause, humming rough against your pussy, the vibration sending sparks through you, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with his tongue again, thrusting it deep inside your hole to fuck you properly.

In and out, slow and loving, his mouth making wet obscene noises as his tongue-fucked you, then back to your clit, sucking it firm between his lips while two fingers returned to stroke that gummy soft spot inside you that made your thighs shake.

He spread your thighs wider still, holding you open so he could bury himself completely. Another soft kiss to your clit, another puff of cool air, then he spat once more on your dripping pussy and licked every drop up like a man starved, face shiny and messy, honey coating his chin and cheeks as he alternated between sucking your clit and thrusting his tongue into your hole.

Table creaking under you as your body tensed, not slowing down, eating your cunt like he was starved, the messy slurps and low groans stirring through you as honey kept dripping whenever he paused to add more, and he made sure to lick every bit away, tongue exploring every fold, every inch of your soaked pussy and your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as the pleasure built sharp and sweet.

He sucked your clit harder, fingers curling faster, tongue occasionally dipping down to fuck into your hole again, the combination pushing you right to the edge and he looked up at you once more.

"Come on my tongue, baby. This pussy is the only sweetness I need."

That was all it took, you came with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head and Sukuna moaned into your pussy, licking you through it, drawing out every pulse with long, greedy licks of his tongue.

Keeping his mouth on you even after his gentle laps, cleaning up the last sticky sweetness mixed with your cum, tongue swirling softly around your sensitive clit, making you twitch and whimper and he kissed your pussy tenderly, then blew one final soft breath over your wet folds before giving your clitbine final sweet kiss.

When he finally pulled back face shiny, lips swollen, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand but still leaned in to press one last slow kiss right over your pussy. "Best breakfast I've had in a long time, baby." He said, voice rough and satisfied, then he helped you sit up, pulling your sundress back down while you caught your breath.

The jar of honey sat there, still half full, promising more sweet mornings ahead.

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His voice was smooth, low enough to settle something warm in your stomach. You sat in the big exam chair, suddenly aware of how close he would have to get, then he wheeled his stool right up beside you, knees brushing yours for a second as he adjusted the equipment.

"First things first, we're doing the tonometry test, it checks your eye pressure. Just stay still and look straight ahead for me, okay? Trust me, it'll be quick."

You nodded, throat dry and then leaned in, so close you could smell his cologne, something clean and expensive that made your head spin. The device came toward your eye, you tried your best not to flinch.

"Easy," he murmured. "You have such beautiful eyes, you know that? The color in them is incredible up close. Just relax for me, pretty girl."

Heat flooded your cheeks, he said it so casually, like it was nothing, while he focused on the test. The little puff of cool air hit your right eye and your body automatically jolted, blinking hard after trying to recover from it.

"I'm sorry I should've warned you before it happened." He said apologetically.

You replied with a soft sigh, "Its the worst part about having to get my eyes retested."

That made him chuckle softly, "Don't worry you did perfectly, just the other eye now and it'll be over quickly."

You shifted, waiting for the next puff of air to hit your left eye this time, and Satoru steadied your chin gently this time.

"There we go. See, Not so bad was it? And your eyes really are stunning. I could look at them all day."

He repeated the compliment without seeming to notice, moving the device away and making notes on his chart and your vision was swimming a little from the test, but his face stayed sharp in front of you, those blue eyes locked on yours with way too much interest for a regular checkup.

Next came the chart across the room, he dimmed the lights slightly and stood behind you, one hand resting lightly on the back of your chair, the spot light shining on the letter chart.

"Read the smallest line you can for me."

You squinted, letters blurring and he leaned down closer, breath warm near your ear as he adjusted the chart light.

"Take your time, its no rush. I like a patient who really focuses."

His tone dipped playfully on the last word and you started reading what you could, voice softly echoing through the exam room between you and him.

Then he hummed in approval and got the hand held phoropter, "he isn't going to use the phoropter machine?" You thought. The other large machine that was just above your head.

"I personally like using this one more. Its more accurate in my opinion." He answered, like he had read your mind and was trying to make you understand his reasoning.

Now manually flipping through lenses on the phoropter, he asked softly, "Which is better, one or two?"

"One," you said.

"Good choice, now three or four?"

You picked again and every time he asked, he stayed right there, his body heat radiating, cologne wrapping around you and between changing lenses and questions he kept talking to you attentively.

"You know, most people have average eyes. Yours though? They catch the light just right. Makes my job way more fun. Four or five? Yeah, that one, was it? Beautiful."

He said it again. Beautiful. You'd lost count of how many times the word left his mouth now, each one casual and sincere, like he couldn’t help himself. Your pulse started thrumming in your ears, the blurriness from the tests only made everything feel more intimate, his face hovering inches away while he worked.

When the exam wrapped up, he didn’t pull back right away, instead he rested his forearms on the equipment tray and looked at you fully, his smile turning a little crooked.

"All done with the technical stuff, your prescription needs a small tweak, but nothing major. You handled that so well, you're the calmest patient today, huh?"

You laughed nervously and seized the moment. "I guess, but I do have questions, about contact lenses maybe? I've been thinking about trying them."

His eyes lit up. "Contacts? Thats an excellent idea. Those eyes deserve to be seen without frames sometimes." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a sample pack, pressing it into your hand. His fingers lingering against yours, "These are free, you should try them at home, but if you need help putting them in for the first time, you can always book a follow-up. I will walk you through it personally."

The tension was stretching between you further, thick and sweet, and you asked more questions just to keep him there. Lens care, daily versus monthly, anything that came to mind and he answered every single one, patiently and amused, voice gentle like he was sharing secrets.

"You really are curious. I like that, most people just want to get out of here."

You smilled shyly, "I don't mind staying a little longer," you admitted, cheeks burning.

Gojo grinned, wide and bright. "Careful. I might end up keeping you here all afternoon."

Eventually you moved to the front area to pick out frames and he followed, tall and attentive, pulling different options from the display cases. One pair in particular caught his eye and he held it out to you himself.

"Try these, I think they'll look perfect on you"

You took the frames, fingers brushing his again and when you slid them on and looked in the mirror, they fit your face beautifully, cute and flattering. A smile broke across your lips before you could stop it.

Gojo stepped up behind you, reflection showing him towering closely, his voice dropping low.

"Pretty girl."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You met his eyes in the mirror and he looked genuinely pleased, like he had discovered something rare.

Utahime at the reception desk rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. Shoko leaned against the counter beside her, smirking around the lollipop in her mouth, clearly used to their charming optometrist turning every appointment into something like this between his visitors, especially the elderlies.

Gojo did not seem to care that his interns were staring, he adjusted the frames on your nose gently, thumb grazing your cheek for half a second.

"These are the ones, right? They suit you so well, makes me want to schedule your next visit already."

You took the frames off after making the choice that these were the ones for you. Utahime came up to you after and took them from you, then you paid and gathered your things, the sample contacts tucked safely in your bag, and Satoru walked you to the door, holding it open with that same easy smile.

"See you soon, yeah? Take care of those beautiful eyes for me."

You looked back at him after stepping out and nodded in agreement, he waved you off then. And when you walked out into the daylight, heart racing, vision still a little soft around the edges from his proximity.

The memory of his voice, his closeness, and every casual compliment stayed sharp and warm in your senses, you already knew you'd be counting down the days until your next appointment, you'd find a good excuse to make it back into his office sooner or later.

ಇ.author's note: im getting my eyes retested soon and i love the tention between me and my optometrist.

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You took the bear from her then, the fur feeling impossibly soft under your palms. Shoko reached in the wardrobe again, further back this time and found the card that came along with the stuffed bear, she held it carefully and gently opened the light blue envelope. In Satoru's neat handwriting was written,"To my pretty girl, I'll Love you Forever."

This was the anniversary gift he had planned for you. A one full year of almost being together. As you curiously held the somewhat cute gift, you pressed the spot on its chest and heard his voice -Satoru's, it crackle out, happy and teasing for just a second before it strained and died. Fuck the batteries needed replacing probably, and the sound of him, even broken, made your eyes sting with fresh tears.

After Shoko stayed a few more hours and helped you sort Satoru’s belongings, she left and you carried the bear home, the night had settled deep and heavy by then, you were sitting on the edge of your bed and holding the teddy bear close against your chest.

The plush body molded perfectly to your curves. Those blue eyes stared back at you, soft and familiar. Guilt curling low in your belly but the ache between your legs burned hotter. "God, what is wrong with me", you thought to yourself, because an overwhelming want was overtaking you now.

Your hand slipped beneath your panties, and you were already wet. Slick with need and sorrow. You began rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit while you found yourself rocking against the bear’s plush stomach. Whispering a muffled, “Satoru” between clenched teeth, his name breaking into a moan as you pressed the teddy bear tighter between your thighs and started humping it with growing desperation.

You started dragging your soaked pussy along the soft white fur... it felt so wrong and so good. Your messy arousal coating its belly in shiny streaks, hips rolling faster and chasing friction until your thighs trembled and you came hard with his name on your lips and tears sliding down your cheeks.

Afterwards the guilt hit like a wave, you had practically defaced his sweet gift with your pussy- but you cleaned the bear up after as best as you could and then tucked it deep into the back of your closet, not wanting to touch it again.

A week later it had arrived, the morning of your would-be anniversary. You awokened groggily, the ache in your chest sharper than usual, but still you dragged yourself up out of bed, showered and dressed for work, but before you left you took a glance back at the closet door left slightly opened, A patch of white fur and those blue eyes peeking out, you swallowed hard and closed the door shut behind you in a hurry.

While you were gone something impossible stirred inside the teddy bear. Satoru’s consciousness awokened in the soft stuffed body. "What the fuck. What the fuck is this?" was the first thing he thought, Satoru could see your room clearly, or what he for sure thought was your room, the familiar pink walls, your clothes scattered across the floor, your underwear draped over a chair.

He tried to move his plush arms, his cotton legs, anything, but nothing happened. He tried to speak, and only silence answered. He had died, gone to whatever hell waited for men like him, and now he was cursed to exist as the stupid anniversary teddy he had bought you. Some cosmic joke, right? Satoru was completely stuck.

Night came eventually and what felt like waiting an eternity for you, you had returned home finally, tired and a little drunk after Shoko insisted on drinks to get you through the day.

Your steps were unsteady as you walked into the bedroom and wasting no time you peeled off your top first, then your skirt and now standing there in just your bra and panties, your gaze kept drifting toward the closet.

The pull was too strong tonight, your better judgment was going with the alcohol and the hollow longing in your chest was replacing it now, you opened the door and reached for the bear.

Your fingers sinking into the warm, soft fur. Satoru felt your every touch like electricity trapped inside him. 'Whoa, what is she going to do?', he thought, flustered and helpless. You carried him to the bed and laid back, pressing the teddy bear between your spread thighs, and pushed your panties aside, sliding your already wet pussy along his plush front.

Rocking slowly at first, savoring the soft friction against your clit. Then faster, needier. “Satoru,” his name left your lips, your moans growing louder as you started grinding harder.

The fur growing slicker and messy with your arousal as you humped the bear with shameless rolls of your hips, clutching it tightly to your chest while your nipples brushed its soft head, pressure building fast until you came with a broken cry, thighs shaking and soaking the white fur completely.

You passed out shortly after, your body utterly spent, but it was still only eleven when you stirred again, and you nuzzled deeper into the teddy bear’s side, breathing in the scent of your own release mixed with clean plush and when you looked up at its face you swore one eye blink... wait did the fucking bear just blink?

“Did you just blink?” you whispered, heart pounding hard with disbelief.

And surely It blinked again.

Startled, you sat up and grabbed the bear with both hands, turning it over carefully. The voice box, of course. You fetched your vibrator from the drawer, twisted out the batteries, and slid them into the panel on the bear’s back. Static crackled for a long moment, then his voice came through, tired but unmistakably his.

“Well… this is awkward.”

You nearly dropped him.

“Satoru, what the fuck?" How are you even?? Oh my god, this can't be real."

You blurted out through laughter and tears, the shock and slow reality of it all now mixing on your face. You felt like you were definitely going insane... you were talking to your dead boyfriend... to a fucking teddy bear. He teased you about the mess you kept leaving on his fur, and you called him a fucking idiot for leaving you behind, amongst other things.. this... and his overdosed, you made sure to let him know how he was the stupidest man who ever lived.

He asked how you had been holding up and you told him the truth, that nothing felt right without him, and the conversation stretched late into the night. It was warm and familiar even through his tiny gravelly speaker, he told you he didn't know how this was possible, of course he didn't have a proper answer for coming back to haunt your through a teddy bear that he bought you no less.

The days blurred into something new after that. You kept the bear on your bed now instead of hidden away. You talked to him while you cooked dinner, while you changed your clothes, while you still cried on nights when it got too heavy. Satoru listened to everything, he couldn't hold you but he was there, his voice being the only thing able to comfort you. He teased when things seemed to get overwhelming and he was soft and gentle depending on when you needed it.

One quiet evening he asked the question that had clearly been weighing on him. “You ever gonna date again? Maybe meet someone else?”

You inhaled and rested your cheek against his soft head, fingers stroking the blue bow. “No, you were the only true love of my life. Even if you hadn’t come back like this, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. That was the choice I made."

Satoru found himself staying quiet for a long moment, then when he did speak, his voice stirred with awe, “You deserve better than pining after a dead junkie in a teddy bear suit ya know. You should be happier.”

“You worry too much,” you retorted softly, pressing a kiss between his blue eyes. “Yes, you made bad decisions Satoru, and your addiction ruined a lot, but doesn't this feels like a second chance? You get to stay with me and you get to apologize. And I still love you. Even like this.”

Satoru’s voice grew thick through the speaker. "Fuck, you really were always too good for me. I’m sorry I put you through hell, I really am. Thank you for still loving me anyway." His voice straining softer, "Cursed teddy bear and all.”

You smiled then and laid down besides him, resting your head on his plush lap, his fur feeling warm from your body heat. His presence wrapping around you like the embrace he could no longer give with arms and you closed your eyes and drifted off, safe in the only forever you wanted.

And inside the soft shell of a cottony prison, Satoru stayed awake, watching over you. He was yours forever, no matter the shape or form he had now. And somehow, against all the odds of hell itself, that was enough.

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Your jaw locks so hard your teeth ache. The holo-screen blurs. You can still see it—Tom’s body on the pavement outside the bar, blood spreading dark under streetlights. Some desperate junkie with a cheap gun who didn’t even know what he was taking. Tom, who never hurt anyone, gone in seconds. And now this stranger wearing his face sits here like it’s nothing.

“Get out.”

He doesn’t move. Instead he rolls closer—close enough that you catch the faint scent of antiseptic and cheap Earth soap clinging to him, nothing like the clean lab smell Tom always carried after a shower. Jake’s gaze drags over your lab coat, lingering on the way your fingers stay white-knuckled around the edge of the panel.

“I’m not here to replace him,” he says quietly. “I’m here because they won’t let me say no. And because this—” he gestures vaguely at the link chairs, at the long blue bodies suspended in their tanks behind the glass “—this is the only shot I’ve got at walking again. Marine Corps didn’t exactly hand out refunds when the spine went.”

You finally turn. Mistake—.

He’s staring right at you, cerulean eyes so close to Tom’s it hurts, but there’s something raw flickering behind them. Something that makes your chest cave in with grief even as anger flares hot and bright. He notices. Of course he does.

“You hate me already,” he murmurs, almost resigned. “That’s fair.”

“Fair?” The word comes out like a slap. “You think sliding into his skin is fair? You didn’t earn this, Jake. You didn’t train. You didn’t spend nights memorizing neural pathways and Avatar physiology. You just showed up with the same goddamn DNA and they handed you the keys to his life. To his body.”

He doesn’t flinch. Just leans forward, forearms braced on the armrests, muscles shifting under the thin shirt in a way that makes you remember exactly how Tom’s body felt pressed against yours in the dark of the link room after hours—gentle, careful and warm.

“Maybe I didn’t earn it,” he says slowly. “But I’m here. And I’m not leaving. So you can either keep hating me from across the room… or you can look me in the eye and tell me exactly how much it hurts that I’m the one who gets to wake up in his skin tomorrow.”

Your breath catches, its sharp and  painful, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not for him.

“I don’t want to look at you,” you whisper. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Jake’s lips press into a thin line. Not quite a frown, more like he’s swallowing something bitter.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I get that.” From Grace.. and now from you.” He mutters the last part under his breath.

He rolls back just enough to give you space, to give you the illusion of distance then he turns the chair toward the link bay doors.

“First sync’s tomorrow at 0600. Grace’ll be running it. If you want to watch… or if you just want to stand there and glare at me while I try not to fuck up your boyfriend’s body, that’s your call.” A pause. His head tilts slightly, eyes dragging over your face like he’s memorizing the shape of your pain. “But I’m not him. I know that. And I’m not pretending I am.”

The door hisses shut behind him.

You stand there shaking, arms wrapped tight around your middle, the ghost of Tom’s gentle hands warring with the raw, aching void where he used to be.

You tell yourself you won’t go.

You tell yourself you hate him.

But when the alarm chirps at 05:45 the next morning, you’re already dressed, lab coat thrown over yesterday’s clothes, pulse hammering in your throat like it’s trying to escape.

The observation deck is dim, lit only by the soft bioluminescent pulse of the link pods. Grace is there, sipping coffee that smells like motor oil, giving you a long, knowing look when you slip inside.

“You sure about this?” she asks quietly.

You don’t answer. You just step to the glass and watch.

Jake’s already in the bed—shirtless, the lean muscle of his human body stark against the blue padding. Electrodes spiderweb across his chest, his temples, his wrists. His face is calm, almost resigned.

The tech counts down.

“Link in three… two… one.”

His body jerks once—spine arching—then goes still.

Inside the tank, the Avatar’s eyes snap open.

Yellow. Endless. Jake’s.

He sits up slowly, tail flicking once, long fingers flexing as he learns the new weight of his limbs. The bioluminescent freckles across his chest glows brighter when he turns his head—straight toward the observation window.

Straight toward you.

Even through two layers of reinforced glass, you feel it: that same steady stare from yesterday, only now it’s ten feet tall, wrapped in corded muscle and midnight skin.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t mouth anything dramatic.

He just holds your gaze quiet and unflinching—like he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides.

Grace sighs behind you. “He’s gonna be trouble.”

You don’t answer. You’re already turning away from the glass, chest tight and throat burning.

Because hate and grief are still the same color when they burn this hot.

And right now, you’re still on fire.

____

Three months have carved themselves into the green heart of Pandora like scars that refuse to fade. Site 32 sits deeper in the forest now, closer to the floating mountains where the Omatikaya pulse with life—close enough that the bioluminescence bleeds through the canopy even at midday, close enough that the air tastes like wet earth and night-blooming flowers even through your exopack filter.

You’ve been assigned to Jake’s Avatar on this run. Grace didn’t ask if you wanted it; she just handed you the datapad with the sample coordinates and a look that said, deal with it. So here you are—tramping through undergrowth that glows under your boots, exopack hissing softly with every breath, medkit slung over your shoulder, while Jake’s towering blue form moves ahead like he was born to this gravity.

He’s enormous up close like this.

Ten feet of lean muscle wrapped in cerulean blue skin that catches every stray shaft of light filtering through the leaves—deep cobalt streaked with faint bioluminescent freckles that shimmer like scattered stars across his broad shoulders, down the long slope of his spine, dusting the sharp cut of his hips, his tail swaying low and lazy behind him, thick braid swinging with each silent step. Those same yellow-green eyes, but they’re sharper now, wilder. Scanning the forest like he’s hunting something only he can see. Every time he glances back to check on you, your stomach twists so hard you almost stumble.

You hate how much he looks like Tom in this body.

You hate how much you notice.

Then the viperwolf comes out of nowhere.

One second the forest is breathing quiet around you—then a low snarl rips the air, black-and-gold stripes flashing, jaws snapping inches away from your leg. Jake moves faster than anything that size should—long arm sweeping you behind him, other hand snatching the rifle from his back in one fluid motion. The crack of the shot echoes; the animal yelps once, high and furious, then bolts into the undergrowth, leaving a smear of dark blood on the moss.

Jake’s breathing hard—chest rising and falling in heavy pulls that make the freckles across his pecs flicker like dying embers. A long, shallow gash runs down his left forearm—three parallel claw marks weeping violet blood that drips slow and thick onto the forest floor.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice deeper in this throat, rumbling through you. “That was too close.”

You’re already moving—grabbing his wrist (god, his skin is so warm, so alive under your gloved fingers), tugging him toward the nearest link shack half-hidden in a cluster of glowing ferns. “Come on. We need to clean that before it festers.”

He doesn’t argue. Just follows—ducking low under the low entrance, shoulders brushing the frame even though he hunches.

Inside, the shack is small and familiar—filtered human air hissing softly from the vents, the faint metallic tang of recycled O₂ replacing Pandora’s thick sweetness the second you seal the door. You rip your exopack off with shaking hands, gulping in clean(ish) air, hair sticking to your damp forehead. Jake lowers himself onto the narrow cot—carefully, almost gentle for how big he is. Long legs stretching out and his injured arm resting across his thigh.

You kneel between his knees without thinking, medkit open on the floor. The proximity hits you like a slap to your smaller frame, his heat radiating and the faint earthy scent of his skin mixing with the coppery tang of blood, those freckles so close you could count them if your hands weren’t trembling. He watches you the whole time with his quiet steady eyes, like he’s memorizing the way your lashes flutter when you’re trying not to look at his face.

You clean the wound with antiseptic wipes, slowly with careful strokes of your smaller fingers over his larger arms in this state, that make his muscles twitch under your touch. Violet blood smears across your gloves, it stains the gauze and he doesn’t flinch once.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says finally, voice low and strained, “I’ve had worse.”

You don’t look up. “I know.”

A beat of silence. The only sound is your breathing and the soft drip of the wound and faint hum of the air recycler.

“Then why are you?”

Your hands still. The gauze hovers over the deepest scratch. You swallow—hard.

“Because it’s bleeding,” you whisper. “And because… because it’s you.”

Your words hang there naked, stupid, all too honestly out in the open now.

Jake’s tail flicks once against the cot frame— a soft thump, then his good hand lifts—slowly and careful, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away and threads it gently into your hair. Five long fingers cradle the back of your skull, his thumb brushing the shell of your ear. Not pulling. Not demanding. Just… there.

Your breath catches.

And you finally look up at him.

His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them look, his citrine yellow eyes gone liquid, pupils blown wide in the dim light of the shack. Those freckles glow faintly across his cheekbones, down the strong column of his throat. He looks so much like Tom in this moment, that it steals the air from your lungs—same tilt to the head, same quiet intensity, but his hand’s in your hair is bigger, rougher from months in this body, and the way he’s looking at you isn’t gentle like Tom’s ever was.

It’s hungry.

Not for blood. Not for violence.

For you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs. Voice so low it vibrates through his chest into yours.

“I know.”

His thumb strokes once, a slow drag of heat warmed skin, along your jaw. “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

Instead you lean forward just a fraction, until your forehead brushes the hard plane of his sternum. His heartbeat thuds steadily and strong under your skin, too fast to be calm. Your hands slide up his forearms, careful of the bandage you just tied, your fingers tracing the raised lines of old scars and the new ones still weeping faintly.

Jake exhales a ragged breath, like it hurts to breathe.

His fingers tighten in your hair—not hard, just enough to tilt your face up so you’re looking at him again. Inches apart. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips, close enough to see the way his pupils eat the yellow, until there’s almost nothing left but black.

“You still see him when you look at me,” he says quietly. Not accusingly. Just… stating a fact.

Your throat burns. “Sometimes.”

He nods once, like he expected it.

“But right now,” he continues, voice dropping to a gravel whisper, “right now you’re looking at me.”

You are.

And it’s impossible to look away.

His other hand, bandaged and careful, lifts to cup your cheek, and his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, the touch is so soft it makes your eyes sting.

“I’m not him,” Jake says again, softer this time. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A tear hot tear slips free, traitorously and slides down your cheek. He catches it with the pad of his thumb and smears it gently across your skin like he’s claiming it.

You turn your face into his palm, and press your lips to the rough center of it, tasting salt and earth and the faint metallic bite of his blood.

He shudders at the feeling. It's full-bodied, his tail curling tight around your calf like he can’t help it.

You don’t kiss him.

Not yet.

But you stay there, forehead to his chest, his hand cradling your skull, your lips brushing the lifeline of his palm—while the forest hums outside and the air recycler whispers and something fragile and heated blooms slowly and aching between you.

Close enough to burn.

Close enough to maybe, finally, let go.

The air in the link shack feels thicker now and humid, recycled. It’s clinging to your skin like it knows what’s building between you. Jake’s still sitting on the cot, legs spread wide to make room for you kneeling there, his bandaged forearm resting heavy on his thigh while his other hand stays threaded in your hair. Not pulling, just holding like he’s afraid if he lets go you’ll vanish into the forest outside.

Your forehead is still pressed to the hard plane of his chest, right over the steady thud-thud-thud of his heart. Too fast for calm. Too loud in the quiet. Every breath you take pulls in more of him: warm skin, the faint metallic bite of blood and the deep earthy musk that’s all Na’vi, all Jake, nothing like the sterile lab smell’s you’ve lived in for years.

You shift just a little and your cheek brushes one of the glowing freckles scattered across his pecs and it pulses softly under the contact, like it’s alive, like his whole body is responding to you being this close. Your hands are still on his forearms—small, human and fragile-looking against the thick cords of muscle and the midnight-blue skin that feels like heated velvet under your palms.

Everything feels too small now.

Your hands. Your body. The cot creaking under his weight. Even the shack itself seems to shrink around the sheer size of him, his ten feet of lean, coiled power, shoulders broad enough to block out the dim light from the single overhead panel, thighs thicker than your waist bracketing you like he could crush you without meaning to.

And he’s getting hard.

You feel it before you see it—the slow, insistent thickening under the thin loincloth he’s wearing, the heavy length of him stirring, rising, pressing against the fabric until it tents obscenely. The outline is ridiculous when you stare.. long, thick, ridged even through the cloth, the flushed tip already nudging free, glistening with a single bead of pearlescent precum that catches the low lights.

He’s barely eighteen in this body—Na’vi physiology locked in at peak youth—and it shows. The way his cock twitches, eager and unashamed, like it has a mind of its own. Like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.

Jake exhales—ragged and lowly—his fingers flexing subtly in your hair.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice gravel-rough and deeper in this throat. “Your smell… it’s driving me crazy, baby.”

You swallow hard. Your own scent must be flooding the small space, your sweat, and growing arousal, the sharp tang of fear-laced want. You can feel yourself getting wetter, slick gathering between your thighs, soaking through your panties, until the fabric of your cargos clings uncomfortably.

His free hand moves slow and carefully, giving you every second to pull away, he reaches his long fingers up your arms to where your gloved hands are soaking with blood —his blood. He forces his larger warm blue finger underneath and tugs it off your fingers, both hands now bare to his touch, his large hands raking down your arms then bringing them to where your chest is visibly heaving and —slips them under the hem of your shirt. Five long fingers splay across the small of your back, rough calluses dragging over your skin. Curiously and exploring your body like he’s learning the shape of you the way you’ve spent months studying Na’vi anatomy in textbooks and holos—every ridge, every sensitive nerve cluster, every place that makes the body ache.

Except this isn’t theory.

This is him.

His palm is so big it covers most of your lower back in one touch. Heat is pouring off him—feverish, alive—and when his thumb strokes up your spine, slow and deliberately, you can’t help the soft whimper that slips out.

Jake’s head dips, his braids falling forward to brush your shoulder and his lips find the side of your neck.

Not a kiss yet.

Just a brush of skin on skin, warm and sweet, then the flat of his tongue drags up the column of your throat in one long, wet lick. His Na’vi tongue—longer, rougher than a human's, textured like velvet sandpaper. It leaves a glistening trail that cools instantly in the recycled air, making you shiver.

He groans against your skin low, and animalistic and does it again. Slower this time, tasting and savoring you. The tip of his tongue flicks over your pulse point, circles it, then dips lower to trace the hollow at the base of your throat.

Your hands clutch at his arms, nails digging in and leaving half moon crescents, trying to anchor yourself because your world is tilting, shrinking, narrowing down to the heat of his mouth, the size of his hands, the heavy throb of his cock brushing your inner thigh through layers of fabric.

“Jake—”

His name comes out wrecked and breathless.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes blown black, citrine swallowed by pupil, freckles glowing brighter across his cheekbones like he’s lit from the inside.

“You’re so fucking small,” he rasps, voice cracking on the words. “Everything about you… fits right here.” His hand on your back slides higher—under your shirt, palm flattening between your shoulder blades and holding you against him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Makes me wanna see how far this goes. Makes me wanna ruin you.”

Another slow lick up the side of your neck open-mouthed this time, lips closing over your pulse, sucking gently until you feel the faint sting of a mark blooming under his mouth.

Your hips jerk forward on instinct grinding slowly, once against the hard line of his thigh, and he growls. Low and possessively. The sound vibrating straight through your core.

His cock jumps— thick and insistently nudging harder against you, the damp spot on his loincloth spreading, visibly.

“Feel that?” he murmurs against your skin. “That’s what you do to me. Just your smell… your little hands on me… fuck, baby, I’ve been hard since you touched my arm out there.”

You whimper quietly in the haze, a needy little sound and your fingers slides up to his chest, tracing the glowing freckles, feeling them pulse under your touch like tiny heartbeats.

Jake’s hand in your hair tightens—just enough to tilt your face up.

Then he kisses you.

Slow and Deeply.

His mouth is huge, lips soft but firm, his tongue pushing past yours in one slick glide, filling you, tasting every corner inside your mouth, like he’s claiming territory. He groans into the kiss, the vibration rumbling down your throat—and his big hand slides higher under your shirt, cupping the back of your neck now, thumb stroking the sensitive spot behind your ear.

You melt into it, your hands clutching his braids, body arching towards him, thighs spreading wider over his leg so you can press closer. His cock throbs against your hip—hot and leaking, so big you can feel every ridge even through the cloth.

He breaks the kiss with a wet sound, his lips swollen and glistening and rests his forehead against yours.

Breathing hard, now.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Tell me and I will.”

Your hands shake where they’re tangled in his braids.

You don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in, slow and hazed, licking a stripe up the column of his throat, tasting salt and earth and the faint bioluminescent sweetness that’s all him.

Jake shudders and it’s full-bodied, tail curling tight around your calf again and his hips rock up once, instinctively grinding that massive length against you.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

But he doesn’t stop.

His mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time and his hands roam your body slowly and curious, learning every inch of you under your clothes while the forest hums outside and the air grows thicker with want.

Everything feels too small.

And too much.

You don’t want it to stop, not now.

The shack feels smaller with every ragged breath you both share, the air thick and heavy with the scent of your arousal and the warm, wild musk rolling off Jake’s skin. Your shirt’s already rucked up high under your arms, bunched and forgotten where his big palm had shoved it out of the way. Cool air kisses the undersides of your breasts, your nipples peaking hard against the thin fabric still clinging there, but Jake’s eyes are lower—locked on the way your hips are twitching every time his thumb strokes lazy circles over the soft skin just below your navel.

You’re straddling one massive blue thigh now, his leg thick enough that your knees barely touch the cot on either side. The heat of him seeps through your cargos, right into your dripping cunt, and every tiny rock of your hips drags your soaked panties against the hard muscle and the friction’s so good it makes your eyes flutter.

“Fuck, baby,” Jake rasps, his voice wrecked and low, “you’re makin’ such pretty little sounds.”

He’s right, every time his fingers dip under your waistband slowly with his teasing touches that drive you crazy, you let out these soft, broken moans you can’t swallow back, your scientist brain screaming at you the whole time: ‘you know the anatomy, you’ve studied the charts, Na’vi’s male genitalia are proportionally massive, internal compatibility is theoretically possible but the stretch—god, the stretch would be huge, impossible, perfect’—

You whimper louder when his hand finally slips fully inside your pants.

Five long, thick blue fingers—each one bigger than two of yours put together—curl against your mound, parting slick folds with careful pressure. He’s so careful and so slow. Like he knows exactly how fragile you are compared to him. The pad of his middle finger drags through your wetness—once, twice—coating himself in your slick until it glistens bright against his midnight skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes blown black, freckles pulsing brighter across his cheeks and down his throat like stars waking up. “So fuckin’ wet for me already. You’re dripping down my hand, baby. You want this bad, don’t you?”

You nod jerky, biting your lips now so desperately, your hips canting forward to chase more of the pressure.

His finger circles your entrance with slow, tender strokes then he presses, just the tip of it against the tight ring of muscle, just enough to make your pussy flutter around him, greedily with need, your cunt’s trying to suck him in deeper even though you know he’s too big.

“Easy,” he soothes, but his voice cracks on the word. His finger pushing in just a little more, the stretch impossible inside your tight hole, feeling you sucking him in—hngh Ah— “that’s it baby,” mhnm—”Gonna open you up nice and slow. Gotta make sure this little human cunt can take me later.”

Later.

The word hits you like a spark—your mind flashing to the sheer size of him, that heavy, ridged cock you felt grinding against your hip earlier, thick enough to split you open, long enough to kiss your cervix and then some. You clench hard around the single finger he’s working inside you—already stretching you wide, already feeling like it’s nudging places nothing human ever reached.

“Fuck—Jake—”

He groans—deep, the sound resonating low in your ears and pushes deeper. One long, smooth slide until his knuckle bumps your clit and his fingertip curls against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark white.

Your back arches, and a high, needy whine spills out. Your hands clutch at his braids, yanking him closer without meaning to.

“That’s it,” he growls against your throat, tongue laving another slow, wet stripe up your neck. “Let me feel how tight you are. Fuck, you’re gripping me so good, want your pretty pussy stretched around my cock instead.” And you imagine it— all that ridged length splitting you open, filling you up till you can’t think straight. 

You’re shaking now, your thighs are trembling, slick running down his wrist in glossy rivulets. His freckles light up brighter with every pulse of his arousal, bioluminescence flaring like he’s glowing from the inside out.

He adds a second finger slower, so fucking slow and you cry out, half-pain, half-pleasure, the stretch burning sweet and deep.

“Too—too big, Jake ngh—”

“Shhh, baby, breathe.” He coos softly as his free hand cups the back of your skull, thumb stroking your cheek while he scissors gently, working you open. “You’re doing s’good. Taking my fingers like you were made for it, hm baby? Gonna take my tongue next, right pretty girl?,” he looks at you with an eager smile, but your eyes are blown wide and needy, “m’gonna lick this sloppy little cunt till you’re crying for my cock.”

Your head falls back on a sob.

And he doesn’t wait any longer.

Jake shifts his massive body, moving with that soft predatory grace and lays you back on the cot, careful not to crush you under his weight. Your legs fall open wide—cargos and panties shoved down to your ankles in one rough tug—and he settles between them, shoulders so broad they push your thighs apart even farther.

His eyes lock on your pussy, puffy and glistening, your clit swollen and throbbing under his stare.

“Fuck,” he breathes, mesmerized. “Look at her. So pretty f’me.”

Then his mouth is on you.

No tease. No warning.

Just one long, filthy drag of his huge Na’vi tongue—rough-textured and longer than any human’s—from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit. Flat and hot and relentless. He groans like he’s tasting the sweetest thing in the universe, vibrations rumbling straight through your pussy, he’s licking around your clit softly, just to hear you mewl.

You scream and it’s muffled against your own hand, your hips bucking up into his face desperately.

Jake doesn’t let up.

His big hands clamp on your thighs, holding you open for him, spreading you wider—while that wicked tongue spears inside your cunt, curling and thrusting, fucking you deep. Deeper than his fingers did. Deeper than anything should reach. The tip nudges your gummy walls, cervix kissed by the blunt tip of his tongue, it’s hot and insistent and you swear you feel it in your womb. The pressure builds higher, coiling faster and ready to snap.

“Jake, oh god—ngh—oh fuck!”

He growls into your cunt, his tongue lashing your clit in fast, sloppy circles, then he sucks the swollen bud between his lips, hard. Sucking, flicking and laving at it without mercy. Wet, obscene sounds filling the shack—slurp, suck, squelch—mixing perfectly with your broken moans and his hungry groans.

Your hands fist in his braids—pulling, grinding and riding his face while tears leak down your temples.

“So good—so fucking good—don’t stop ah—please—”

He doesn’t.

His tongue plunges back inside, hot and thick, relentlessly curling against that spot over and over while the flat of it grinds your clit on every upstroke. You’re gushing now, slick coating his chin, dripping down his neck and pooling on the cot beneath you.

Freckles flaring brighter, his entire chest and shoulders glowing like he’s feeding off your pleasure.

You cum hard, back bowing and thighs clamping around his head, a raw scream tearing out of your throat as your pussy spasms and flutters around his still thrusting tongue. Wave after wave—hot and blinding you until you’re shaking, whimpering and oversensitive and still grinding weakly against his mouth.

Jake doesn’t stop until you’re limp, until every last tremor wrings out of you.

Only then does he pull back—slow—his lips and chin dripping with your release, eyes blown black and wild, cock so hard it’s leaking steadily through his loincloth, thick strings of precum connecting tip to fabric.

He licks his swollen lips slowly, savoring every drop of your juices.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, voice hoarse. “Taste so goddamn sweet. Could eat this pussy for hours.”

His hand slides up your trembling thigh—fingers tracing the mess he made, then he cups your oversensitive mound, his palm hot and possessive over you.

“That was just the warm up,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush a surprisingly gentle kiss to your puffy clit—making you jolt—M’not stopping till I’m buried aaalll the way inside you. Gonna stretch this little cunt so wide you’ll feel only me, forever.”

You whimper high and needy, already aching for it.

He grins slow, ferallity imminent, and his freckles are still glowing.

“Think you can handle that, scientist?”

Your voice is wrecked when you answer.

“Try me.”

The cot groans under Jake’s weight as he shifts higher, his knees planted wide on either side of your hips, towering blue body caging you in like the forest itself decided to claim you. Your shirt’s long gone now, shoved somewhere in the corner with your cargos and panties, leaving you bare and trembling beneath him. Every inch of your skin feels fever-hot, flushed, too small under the sheer scale of him, ten feet of  his hulking muscles and midnight skin glowing with those scattered bioluminescent freckles that pulse brighter every time his cock twitches.

And fuck, that cock.

It’s obscene, —huge.

Heavy, ridged and throbbing so hard that the thick veins stands out like ropes under the velvety blue shaft. The base is deep indigo, darkening to near-black where it meets the swollen knot of his knot-to-be, then fading lighter as it climbs higher, until that pretty flushed pink tip blooms at the head, glistening and weeping. The slit weeps thick, pearlescent precum in slow, syrupy beads that drip down the underside in glossy strings, pooling at the fat ridge before sliding lower.

Jake’s eyes are locked on your face, black pupils swallowing the yellow, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fists himself once, slow. The motion making another fat glob of precum bubble up and spill over his knuckles. He swipes his thumb over the leaking slit, collecting the slick, sticky mess and he brings it straight to your lips.

“Open,” he rasps, voice gravel-low and wrecked.

You do—lips parting on a shaky exhale—and he pushes the pad of his thumb inside, smearing that thick, salty-sweet precum across your tongue. Nasty and filthy-sweet. The taste hits you like a drug—musky, warm and faintly sweet like the air after rain on Pandora—and your pussy clenches hard around nothing, fresh slick gushing out to coat your inner thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, watching your tongue swirl around his thumb, sucking it clean. “Look at that greedy little mouth. Already drooling for more.”

Your hips twitching needy and desperate, then he pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, trailing the string of saliva and precum down your chin, between your breasts, until his big hand cups your mound again. Two thick fingers spread your puffy folds wider exposing your dripping entrance, your swollen clit throbbing under his stare.

“So wet,” he murmurs, almost entranced. “This pretty pussy s’all drippin’ just from me tasting her. Fuck, baby… you’re gonna take every inch, aren’t you?”

You whimper high and broken because the sight of him stroking himself is burning into your brain: that massive length jerking in his grip, pink tip flaring darker with every pass of his fist, more precum leaking in thick ropes that drip onto your belly, warm and sticky.

He leans down, and his one thick braid falls forward over his shoulder and the pink kuru tendrils at the end twitch, curiously and alive. They sway toward you like they have a mind of their own, brushing your collarbone, your cheek, seeking out the neural queue. It glows faintly, pink and sensitive, quivering as it grazes your skin.

Jake notices and his eyes flicking to it then back up to you.

“Relax for me, baby” he whispers, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Gotta go slow. Don’t wanna hurt you… but fuck, I need to be inside you. Need to feel this tight little cunt stretched around me.”

You nod jerky and  frantically, as your legs fall open wider, thighs trembling against his hips.

He notches the fat, flushed head at your entrance, hot and slick, so much bigger than anything you’ve ever seen or —taken. The pink tip kisses your folds, spreading them wide, precum mixing with your own slick in a messy, glossy sheen. Jake rocks forward, just so the thick slope of his tip pushes— in and you gasp, back arching and nails digging into his forearms.

“Too—too big hngh— Jake”

“Shhh, breathe, baby.” he whispers soothingly, His free hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek while the other grips the base of his cock, holding himself steady. “You’re doing so good. Look at her, look how she’s sucking me in already.”

Another slow push forward, inch by torturous inch—and the stretch burns sweet and deep. Your pussy flutters greedily, the narrow channel of your gummy walls trying to take more even as it protests at the sheer girth. The ridges drag along your walls—hot, textured and catching every sensitive spot—until the thickest part of the head pops past your entrance with a wet, schlick.

You cry out, it's a half sob, half moan, your hips jerk up instinctively.

Jake groans deep, it's a guttural sound, his tail lashing behind him, kuru tendrils twitching wildly now, brushing your neck, your jaw, like they’re desperate to connect.

“Fuck—fuck—mhnm so fuckin’ tight,” he pants, forehead dropping to yours. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto your skin. “Feel that? Feel how deep I am already? That’s just the tip, baby. Gonna feed you the rest… nice n’ slow.”

The shallow rolls, every rock of his hips carefully working another thick, swollen inch inside you. Your walls stretch, burn, yield—to his impossible girth—clenching and fluttering around the invading length like you're trying hard to pull him deeper. Slick gushes out, thick and sappy around him, coating his shaft, dripping down to his heavy balls.

Your hands scramble up his chest, your fingers tracing his glowing freckles, feeling them flare brighter under your touch.

“Jake—please—ngh more hngh—fuuuck”  

He growls low and possessively and sinks deeper. Halfway in now. The ridges drag deliciously, pressing against that soft ribbed spot inside your stuffed full cunt that makes stars burst behind your eyes. Your pussy spasms clenching harder around his throbbin’ cock and he curses under his breath, hips stuttering.

“Goddamn, you’re gripping me like a fuckin’ vice. This little cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You can only whimper, overwhelmed, full and aching in the best way.

His kuru tendrils finally find the slope of your neck—brushing the base of your skull, seeking the spot where a braid would be. They quiver, pink and sensitive, like they’re tasting you, learning you.

Jake’s eyes flutter, his pupils blown impossibly wide.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Even your scent up close… it’s everywhere. Driving me insane.”

He gives another slow thrust, deeper and deeper you feel the blunt head nudge that small mouth of your cervix, pressure blooming hot and intense. Not all the way in yet—still inches to go—but already so full you can barely breathe.

“Look at me,” he rasps.

You do, your eyes locking on his and he rolls his hips once, grinding the thick base against your clit.

You come undone—screaming, back bowing, pussy clamping down like a fist around him as wave after wave crashes through you. Slick floods out—drenching his cock, his thighs, the cot beneath you while your walls ripple and milk him.

Jake shudders—full-body—his braid whipping, kuru tendrils flaring bright pink—and he buries the few inches deeper, deeper, deeper with one final, careful push.

still having 3 more inches left to go.

your over stuffed cunt, sucking him in deep, yet he knows there's more room for him—for his cock.

His heavy sack rests hot against your ass, cock throbbing inside you thick and ridged, stretching you to the absolute limit. You swear you can feel him in your womb, in your lungs, everywhere.

He doesn’t move yet, just stays there, panting his forehead pressed to yours and hands cradling your face like you’re something precious.

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Took it so fuckin’ well, as much as that pussy can fit, hm baby?.”

You’re trembling now overstimulated, full and achingly perfect.

His hips give the tiniest rock—testing—and you both groan.

“Gonna move now,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna fuck you slow… gonna fill this pretty pussy up till you’re leaking me for days.”

His kuru tendrils brush against your cheek seemingly trying to comfort you for taking everything, still curious and glowing.

“Ready for me?”

You nod, hot tears slipping free, lips brushing his.

“Fill me up, Jake.”

He grins—slow, feral, his freckles blazing.

“Thaaat’s my girl.”

And then he starts to move.

He’s buried so deep it feels like he’s rearranging your insides—every thick, ridged inch of that massive painted in shades of blue, bioluminescence freckled cock stretching your poor human pussy to its absolute limit. The blunt head kisses your cervix with every tiny rock of his hips, but he still can’t get even the last couple inches in. Your walls flutter and clamp around him like you’re trying to pull him deeper, greedy and desperate, but the sheer girth has you pinned, split open and dripping.

Slick runs in hot, messy rivulets down his shaft coating the deep indigo base, glistening on the heavy swell of his balls, pooling on the cot beneath you in a glossy puddle that smells like sex and ozone and him. Every time he grinds forward—just a shallow roll—the wet squelch echoes in the tiny shack, obscene and loud, making your cheeks burn even as your hips chase more.

“Fuck—baby, look at her,” Jake groans, voice cracking low and wrecked. His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick braids brushing your temples, his eyes blown so wide the yellow is just a thin ring around endless black. “Your cunt’s trying so hard to take all of me… dripping down my cock like she’s begging for more. So fuckin’ wet, so tight—shit, I can feel every flutter, every squeeze.”

You whimper high and broken, your nails digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders. His freckles are blazing now, glowing bright across his chest and throat like he’s lit from within, feeding off every pulse of your arousal.

His braid slips forward again lower, the pink kuru tendrils swaying, curious and alive. They’ve been twitching the whole time, brushing your skin, seeking, tasting the air around you like they can feel how needy you are. Jake notices, his eyes flicking down and a slow, a filthy grin spreads across his face.

“Hold still, f’me pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice gone velvety-gravel. “Got an idea… wanna see how this feels.”

He reaches back. His long fingers wrapping around the base of his braid and guides the glowing fuchsia queue forward. The tendrils quiver, pink and sensitive, curling toward your swollen clit like they already know where they belong. You tense, breath hitching deep because you’re the scientist, you know the anatomy, you’ve read the studies: kuru connect to neural interfaces, to tswin, to other Na’vi. Not to a human clit. Not to this.

But Jake’s eyes are locked on yours, his gaze hot and filed with intense yearning and he doesn’t hesitate for a second.

The tip of the kuru brushes your puffy clit softly with feather-light teasing and you jolt like you’ve been shocked. Electric warm. A spark racing straight up your spine, making your pussy clench hard around his cock.

“Fuck—there it is,” he breathes with instense pleasure, voice trembling with awe. “Knew she’d, hah, like that.”

The tendrils curl so slow and tight, wrapping around your clit like a living ring. They squeeze gently but firm. Pulsing with faint bioluminescent light, glowing brighter every time your hips twitch. The pressure is perfectly too much and not enough, milking your swollen bud in tiny, rhythmic tugs that make your vision white out.

“Oh—oh god- hngh- fuuuck Jake—!”

He shudders, its full bodied again for the nth time, his tail lashing behind him, cock throbbing so hard inside the narrow channel of your cunt, that you feel it in your womb.

“Shhh, baby, breathe,” he soothes, but his own voice is shaking and raw with need. One big hand slides into your hair, fingers cradling the back of your skull, thumb stroking your temple while the other grips your hip, holding you steady. “That’s it… let her hold you. Feel how she squeezes? Fuck, she’s glowing around your pretty clit… look at that. All lit up for me.”

The kuru pulses then. Warm, electric—and another wave of pleasure crashes through you. Your pussy gushes—fresh slick flooding around his buried length, dripping down to soak his balls, making every tiny movement wetter, slicker, louder and you swear you cunt opens up more.. just enough for his last throbbing inches to be fucked fully into your pussy, past that mouth of your cervix and finally womb deep.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck,” he chants under his breath, hips rocking in shallow, helpless thrusts because he can’t stay still. “You’re so wet now… can feel it all, baby. Every ripple, every clench hah shit, so fucking deep, squeezin’ so tight around me, this little cunt’s milking me so good. And your clit… nghhh, she’s hugging it so tight, pulsing like she’s tryna pull you apart.”

You’re crying, the tears slipping hot down your temples, you’re overstimulated, full and aching so perfect. The kuru squeezes again, rhythmic, insistent little pulses and your back bows, a raw sob tearing out of your throat as another orgasm builds too fast, too intense.

“Jake—please mhngh—I can’t, it’s too much—”

“You can,” he says softly but firmly, lips brushing your forehead, your cheek, your mouth. “You’re taking me so deep already… taking my kuru on that needy clit like you were made for it. Look at me, pretty girl. Look at how good you feel.”

His eyes are wrecked, pupils blown entirely, freckles blazing and sweat dripping from his brow onto your skin. He’s shuddering and his hips are stuttering because the kuru is feeding him everything; every flutter of your walls, every pulse of your clit, every gush of slick coating him.

“Feel that?” he whispers, voice trembling with raw yearning. “That’s you… all of you. Inside me now. Fuck baby, you feel so good. So fucking good. mnhm take it… take it all, pretty girl. Let her squeeze you till you come f’me again.”

The tendrils tighten—just a little more—and the glow flares bright pink and high electric pleasure shoots straight to your core.

You break.

Screaming his name, back arching off the cot, thighs clamping around his hips, pussy spasming wildly around his cock as wave after blinding wave rips through you. Slick floods out hot and messy, utterly drenching him and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets. The kuru milks your clit through every pulse, drawing it out, making you shake and sob and grind helplessly against him.

Jake groans deep and brokenly, his hips jerking once, twice. His cock’s throbbing so hard you feel every ridge swell inside you.

“Fuck, gonna—haah fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

His kuru pulses one last time, squeezing your oversensitive clit in a final, lovin’ grip and he cums with a guttural moan, his hips slamming forward as far as he can go. Thick, hot ropes of cum flood you—pulse after pulse—filling you up so full it leaks out around his base in creamy white streams, mixing with your slick, dripping down to his heavy sack.

He collapses over you, carefully not to crush you, his forehead pressed to yours, panting, shuddering, kuru still wrapped gently around your clit like it never wants to let you go.

“Fuck… baby…” His voice is hoarse, wrecked and fucked out. “You took everything. Every inch… every drop. So goddamn perfect.”

The kuru finally uncurls slowly and reluctant, the tendrils brushing one last soft kiss to your swollen clit before retreating back into his braid, glowing faintly.

Jake kisses you then, a soft press of his lips then and deeper, tasting like salt and want and something achingly tender.

“Gonna stay inside you a while,” he murmurs against your lips, his hips giving one lazy roll that makes you both whimper. “Gonna keep you full… keep you dripping me. My pretty scientist… my girl.”

You’re trembling now, overstimulated, stuffed and marked inside and out and all you can do is cling to him, nodding weakly, whispering his name like a prayer.

Because right now, in this tiny shack on Pandora, with his cock still throbbing inside you and his cum leaking slow and hot down your thighs—

You’ve never felt more claimed.

More wanted.

More his.

The high is fading slowly like syrup dripping down glass, sticky and lingering but your body doesn’t care. Jake’s still buried inside you, impossibly deep, his massive blue cock throbbing with the aftershocks of his release. The blunt, ridged head is pressed right up against your cervix, kissing it with every tiny twitch of his hips, stretching your walls so wide they burn sweet and tender around him. You can feel every vein, every swollen ridge, every pulse of the thick base where it’s locked against your entrance like it was carved to fit.

Your pussy doesn’t want to let him go.

Can’t.

Every time your walls flutter weak in exhausted little clenches—they grip him tighter, milking the last drops from his spent length like you’re starving for more. Slick and cum mix in a hot, messy flood inside you. His thick, pearlescent ropes coating every inch, leaking slow and lazy out around where he’s stuffed you full. It drips down your ass, warm and sticky, pooling beneath you on the already-ruined cot, the scent of it heavy in the recycled air: salt, musk, that faint sweet ozone tang that’s pure Jake, pure Na’vi, pure him.

“Fuck… hnngh —baby,” he breathes against your temple, voice hoarse and wrecked, still trembling from the way he came so hard he saw stars. His forehead stays pressed to yours, sweat-slick braids draped over your shoulders like a curtain. “You feel that? How deep I am? Still throbbing inside this greedy little cunt… she’s clenching so hard, nghhh—fuck, she doesn’t wanna let a single drop escape hm?”

You whimper softly, broken—hips twitching on instinct even though you’re oversensitive, raw, aching in the best way. His cock jumps at the movement thick and heavily—and another warm spurt of cum leaks out, adding to the mess already overflowing.

His big hand slides down between your bodies, his long blue fingers splaying wide over your lower belly first, pressing gently where you can feel the faint bulge of him inside you. He groans low when he feels it, feels himself under your skin and then his thumb drifts lower.

Right to your pretty, swollen clit.

It’s puffy, throbbing, still hypersensitive from the kuru’s earlier grip, glistening with your slick and the creamy edges of his cum that leaked out earlier. He circles it once with slow feather-light touches and your whole body jerks, pussy clamping down hard around his buried length.

clench—clench—clench, his teasing voice is now dripping with that dark, hungry awe. “Look at her go… fuck, baby, every time I touch this cute little clit you squeeze me so tight. Like you’re tryna milk every last drop outta me. hm? So greedy… so fuckin’ perfect.”

A sob breaks out quiet and needy, your thighs trembling around his hips as he keeps the pressure light but relentless. Tiny circles. Lazy drags. Just enough to keep the sparks dancing up your spine without tipping you over again. Your walls ripple around him, flutter grip, flutter, pulling more cum from his softening cock in slow, lazy pulses that make you both shudder.

“So much cum,” he rasps, almost reverent, thumb pressing firmer now, rubbing slow figure-eights over your clit while his other hand tangles in your hair, cradling your head like you’re fragile and filthy all at once. “Filled you up so good, didn’t I? Pumped you full till it’s leaking everywhere… dripping down my balls, soaking the sheets. Fuck—look at that mess we made, pretty girl. All that thick white cum just pouring outta this stretched little hole.”

He rocks his hips forward, just the tiniest grind into your spent heat and the wet squelch is loud in the quiet shack. More cum gushes out around his base hot and creamy, sliding down to where his heavy balls rests against your ass. You can feel it trickling, warm and sticky and  pooling under you, marking you inside-out.

“Jake—please mmhn—” Your voice cracks, wrecked, pleading even though you don’t know what for. More? Less? Just him.

He shushes you softly, his lips brushing your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, while his thumb never stops its slow torture on your clit.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispers, voice low and tender now, edged with that raw yearning that makes your chest ache. “Just feel it, baby. Feel how full you are… how deep I still am. This pussy’s hugging me so tight, clenching like she never wants me to pull out. And I won’t—not yet. Gonna stay right here… keep you plugged full of my cum till you’re dripping me for days.”

Another shallow rock of his hip, barely a thrust and your walls spasm again, greedily and fluttering, trying to pull him impossibly deeper. Fresh slick floods out to mix with the mess, making every tiny movement slicker, wetter and louder.

“Fuck—there it is,” he groans, thumb pressing harder on your clit, rubbing faster now. “Clench for me again, pretty girl. Squeeze me… milk me dry. You’re so wet, so messy… all this cum leaking outta you and you’re still gripping me like you need more. Nghhh—shit, baby, you feel too good. Too fuckin’ good.”

Your hips buck up weak and helplessly chasing the pressure on your clit even as tears slip down your cheeks from the overstimulation. Every clench sends another warm spurt of his release leaking out, every grind makes the bulge in your belly shift, every circle of his thumb makes your pussy flutter and grip and ache.

He kisses you then slower, savoring the way you chase him deeper and  he swallows your whimpers, while his fingers stay buried in your hair and his thumb keeps working your clit in lazy, loving strokes.

“Gonna make you come again like this,” he murmurs against your lips, voice trembling with how much he wants it. “Just from my cock stuffing you full and my fingers on this swollen little clit. Gonna make this pussy clench and clench till you’re crying for me… till you’re so full of my cum you can’t hold anymore.”

You’re shaking in his grip, whole body trembling, pussy spasming around him in endless, needy pulses.

And he just holds you closer, his big hands cradling you, thumb never stopping, cock never leaving, while the mess between you grows slicker, hotter, more obscene with every heartbeat.

“Take it, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Take every drop. Keep me inside… keep me full. My pretty, dripping girl… all mine.”

Your walls clench hard one last, desperately gripping his cock and you shatter again.

Softer this time. Quiet and overwhelmed.

Just waves of pleasure rolling through you while his cum leaks out slow and endless, while his thumb strokes you through it, while he groans low and wrecked against your throat.

“Fuck… that’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He doesn’t pull out.

Not even close.

He just stays in deep, thick, throbbing inside you keeping you plugged, keeping you full, keeping you his while the forest hums outside and the shack fills with the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies still locked together.

Dripping.

Clenching.

And perfect.

Jake’s hips finally shift slowly and reluctantly, like even his body doesn’t want to leave the hot, fluttering grip of your cunt. The drag is torturous, every thick ridge catching on your swollen walls, pulling slick and cum with him in a wet, obscene glide. You whimper into his mouth high and broken because the stretch is still burning sweet even now, your pussy clenching desperately around the retreating length like it’s trying to keep him buried forever.

“Shhh, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, voice wrecked and tender all at once. “Gonna pull out nice and slow… don’t wanna hurt my pretty girl.”

And fuck, the way he says it low in that gravel-rough, possessive way that makes your walls flutter again. A fresh gush of his thick cum leaks out the second the fat, flushed head pops free. Hot, creamy ropes spilling from your gaping entrance, dripping down your ass in slow, sticky trails. You can feel the mess pooling beneath you, warm and filthy, soaking the cot even more, the scent of it flooding the tiny shack: salty-sweet musk, sex and him.

Your brain’s gone all fuzzy. Melted, nothing but static and the aftershocks humming through your limbs. You’re trembling, thighs shaking where they’re still spread wide around his hips, clit throbbing with every heartbeat, pussy clenching on nothing now that he’s gone. Empty. Aching and dripping.

Jake doesn’t let you feel it alone.

He's kissing you through it, tongue sliding against yours like he’s tasting every moan he pulled from you earlier. His big hands cradle your face, long fingers threading into your hair, thumb stroking the tear tracks on your cheeks, while his other palm presses flat to your lower belly, right over the faint bulge that’s already starting to fade. He groans into the kiss when he feels the mess leaking out, his fingers dip lower, two thick blue digits sliding through the creamy flood at your entrance.

“Fuck—look at this,” he breathes against your mouth, voice shaking with awe and hunger. “So much cum pourin’ outta you… pretty pussy’s all stretched and sloppy now. Can’t even hold it in.”

He pushes those two fingers inside, slow, careful not to hurt you. Plugging the leaking hole and curling them just enough to scoop more of his release and stuff it back in. You sob into his kiss, overstimulated, oversensitive, your hips jerk weakly as your walls flutter around the intrusion. The wet squelch is loud in the quiet, filthy and intimate, every tiny pump of his fingers pushing more cum deeper, keeping you full even though his cock is gone.

“Gonna keep you plugged a little longer,” he whispers, lips brushing yours between words. “Don’t want a single drop wasted… want you feeling me inside you all day, baby. Dripping me, leaking me, marked up from the inside out.”

Your head lolls back, your minds too fuzzy to form words, just soft, needy whimpers spilling out as he scissors gently, stretching the tender rim again, making sure every inch stays coated in him.

Then the comm crackles to life, a soft static hiss cutting through the haze.

“Jake? Doc? Where the hell are you two? You’ve been off-grid for over an hour. Grace is about to send in a search party.”

Norm’s voice—annoyed and obviously worried, filters through the small unit clipped to Jake’s discarded gear.

Jake doesn’t even flinch.

He just keeps his fingers buried deep, still pushing in slowly and lazy, giving gentle pumps into your fluttering cunt while he leans over you, lips curving into that slow feral teasing grin you’re starting to crave.

He thumbs the comm with his free hand, voice coming out rough and casual, like he didn’t just fuck you senseless and filled you to overflowing.

“Yeah, we’re good,” he drawls, low and lazy. “Got a little… lost in the forest. Thick canopy fucked with the signal. We’re heading back now.”

A beat of silence on the other end.

Norm sounds skeptical. “Lost? For an hour? You sure you’re not—”

“Positive,” Jake cuts in, smooth as silk. His fingers curl inside you again deliberately now, making your back arch and a fresh whimper escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit at the same time. Light, teasing circles and your pussy clamps hard around his digits, more cum leaking out around them. “We’re fine. Be back in twenty.”

He clicks the comm off before Norm can push further.

Then he looks down at your small helpless frame cuddled against him, eyes reverting back to citrine, freckles still glowing faintly across his cheeks and that grin turns downright wicked.

“Lost, huh?” he murmurs, rolling his eyes for smoothly coming up with that one, then he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the sensitive spot under your ear. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”

His fingers give one last slow thrust in, pushing more of his thick load back inside, before he finally pulls them free. The wet pop makes you both groan. Cum immediately wells up again, creamy white spilling from your puffy, gaping entrance, dripping down to your ass in slow, glossy strings.

Jake watches it with hungry eyes, tail flicking lazily behind him then swipes two fingers through the mess, bringing them to your lips.

“Open, baby.”

You do, your tongue darts out, tasting the salty-sweet mix of him and you and he pushes them inside, letting you suck them clean while his other hand strokes your hair, gentle now, soothingly.

“Good girl,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little. “Took me so well… took every drop. Look at you, messy, full and glowing because of me, fuck- you’re beautiful like this.”

He leans in and kisses you again softer this time, lingering on his taste on your lips, while his hand slides down to cup your mound, palm pressing possessively over the dripping mess he left behind.

“Gonna help you clean up,” he murmurs against your lips. “But first… gonna make sure you feel me leaking out of you the whole way back to base. Every step. Every breath. You’re gonna feel how full I kept you.”

Your brain is still fuzzed, still gone but your body answers for you; thighs trembling, pussy fluttering around nothing, clit throbbing under his palm.

He grins slow and satisfied now and starts gathering your scattered clothes, careful and gently, like he didn’t just ruin you in the best way.

“Get dressed, pretty girl,” he says, voice low and warm. “We’ve got a long walk back… and I wanna watch you try to walk straight with all my cum still dripping down your thighs.”

You whimper, just once, soft and wrecked and he kisses your forehead, lingering there like a promise.

“Mine,” he whispers.

And fuck, after everything—

You believe him.

★ 𝒯 ag list - @barbatoswh0r3 @cttelina @0celotmilk @booboobear-12 @yummidumplingss @liahcharms @mimimochis @fayefavz @butterbeanandsparkleface @megumisrighttoe @teaspecifically @kireampie @megum1sstepm0m-blog @yoonsucks ★

You blinked.

Satoru Gojo.

6’3, white-haired menace, captain of the university basketball team, rumored to have an IQ of something stupid like 150 and a body sculpted by the horny whispers of God herself. You’d seen him. Everyone had.

You just didn’t think he’d seen you.

Well. Not like this.

“Is this what you get up to when you’re not failing chem lab?” 😇👀

You choked on your candy and stared at the message like it would change if you blinked hard enough. You were in his chem class. Sat behind him twice a week. You’d seen the slope of his back in that hoodie he never wore right, the flash of tattoos peeking when he leaned forward to take notes. And now? He was seeing everything—your tits, your hips, your little pink pussy glossed with coconut oil and bravery.

You didn’t answer right away. Let him sweat.

Twenty minutes later:

“Or should I say… what you get up to when you should be studying 😌 naughty little overachiever huh?”

That second one hit different.

You:

“how’d u find this acc gojo 😒 stalker behavior”

Satoru:

“instagram said ‘you might know her’ and i said. i wish” “now i do. and damn, babe. u gonna give a man a heart attack”

You chewed your nail and smiled against your wrist.

You:

“you like what u see?”

Satoru:

“do i like? baby. i’ve been staring at ur third slide for five minutes. zoomed in and everything.” “that’s not even fair. u go to school with me lookin like THAT?” “and now i know how fuckin sweet that pussy looks when u stretch… 😪”

Your thighs pressed together. You tried to be slick. Tried to look unbothered. But your panties were damp before he even sent the next message.

“got a boyfriend?” “lemme guess. no. cause he’d never let u post this” “good. i wouldn’t either. not if u were mine.”

Your fingers slipped between your legs before you could help it.

You:

“why? u jealous?”

Satoru:

“jealous? baby i’m hard as fuck. bout to go take a cold shower in ur honor” “unless u wanna send me something to keep me company” “🤞 i’ll be real good for u. promise.”

That night you sent him a mirror pic. nothing too crazy, just your thighs spread, his name on your thigh written in red lip liner. The panties stayed on, but the outline underneath was unmistakable.

He called you his sweet girl in the next text. Said he wanted to take his time.

Sexting started slow. Flirty and silly. He called you a “little tease” and told you, you looked edible. You teased him about his nerdy glasses. He said he’d fuck you in them. The photos escalated. Moan videos. Voice notes. Your first orgasm with his name between your teeth, breathy and dizzy. He came untouched to it. You both swore to keep it just between you two.

Satoru Gojo had seen your pussy before he’d ever heard your voice.

But the first time he heard you laugh at one of his dumb jokes in class, head tipped back and eyes sparkling, he whispered to himself under his breath:

mine.

⸻

You hadn’t planned to run into him. Not in your black mini skirt, fishnet tights peeking at the hem, and a vintage tee with the words Good Girls Get High Grades stretched tight across your tits. You were just there to grab a study guide. Really.

But the moment Satoru Gojo looked up from the study table in the back of the library, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose and a red pen between his lips, your heart dropped into your panties like clockwork.

He smirked. Didn’t even blink.

“Look who finally decided to show up for class. Gonna actually study, or just here to distract me with that ass?”

You stopped mid-step. “Are you—? Gojo, this is the library.”

He leaned back in the chair, arms stretching behind his head, biceps flexing under his grey long-sleeve like he planned the movement. “Exactly. Sacred ground. You gonna be good for me in here, sweetheart? Or you gonna make me walk you to the bathroom?”

You hated the way your thighs clenched.

“Bold of you to assume I’d follow you anywhere.”

He grinned, slow and wolfish, tapping the table in front of him. “C’mere.”

You should’ve left. Should’ve turned around and pretended he didn’t finger you over FaceTime last week while calling you his smart little slut. But you sat down. Because you were weak. And because the way his eyes dropped to your thighs made your stomach flutter.

He passed you his notes. “Color-coded and everything,” he said, smug. “Big dick and a GPA.”

You rolled your eyes. “You forgot delusional.”

“Oh, baby. If you saw what you do to me every time you post—”

“I know what I do to you,” you said, smirking. “You sent me a four-minute audio of you moaning my name, remember?”

He laughed, voice thick and low. “You saved it?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. The way your eyes dropped to his lap said enough. He was hard. Again.

“I’m trying to be good,” he murmured, pushing his glasses up. “Trying to be smart. Help you pass bio. But you’re sittin’ here lookin’ like a wet dream, wearin’ those damn tights like you want me to rip 'em open.”

Your breath caught.

“Say the word,” he whispered. “We’ll go right now. I’ll fuck you on the sink with your leg up on the paper towel dispenser.”

You swallowed.

“I’ve had my mouth on your pussy in every position except real life, and it’s driving me insane, babe.”

“Gojo—”

“I’ll be quick,” he promised, voice so soft it made your pulse stutter. “Just wanna taste you. Been thinking about it all week. That pretty little moan you do when I hit your spot—fuck—I’ll take care of you. Always do.”

Your chair scraped back.

He looked up, pupils blown wide, gaze dark behind his glasses. “That a yes?”

You nodded once, mouth dry. “Bathroom. Now.”

You barely made it into the single-stall library bathroom before his hands were under your skirt, gripping the backs of your thighs like he’d been starving for weeks.

Satoru kicked the door shut, locked it without looking. His mouth found your neck before you could even catch your breath, biting just hard enough to make you gasp.

“God, baby,” he groaned into your skin, “you wore this little skirt on purpose, huh? Wanted me to see this fat ass and lose my fuckin’ mind?”

You whimpered as his fingers gripped you through your tights, rubbing over the heat of your cunt like he already knew how wet you were. (He did. You’d been wet since chem lecture. He smirked at you across the room and your thighs clenched.)

He spun you around, lifted you with too much ease, and set you up on the cold counter like you weighed nothing.

You gasped when the chill kissed your bare ass.

“Be a good girl,” he whispered, sliding your legs apart with his big hands. “Let me taste my favorite little study buddy.”

Your tights? Torn at the crotch with his teeth.

Your panties? Slid to the side and soaking.

His glasses? Still on. (Of course. Fucking menace.)

He dropped to his knees, and your breath caught.

You’d sent him dozens of videos—spread out in bed, back arched, fingers rubbing your clit as you gasped "Toruuu please" in the mic. But nothing, nothing compared to him grabbing your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the sink like you were dessert and he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, head tipping back as he ran his tongue over you once, slow and heavy. “Satoru—”

“Mhm,” he mumbled into your pussy. "Fucking needed this.”

You whined.

He licked long and deep, tongue flattening against your folds, dragging up and over your clit until your hips jerked. Then he chuckled. Laughed. Like he had all the time in the world and you weren’t dripping down his chin already.

“Y'r already so wet,” he said, licking his lips. “Did I do that, baby? Or were you just walking around all day with this cute little pussy soaked, hoping i’d notice?”

You couldn’t answer. Not when he sucked your clit into his mouth like he meant it.

Your thighs closed around his ears, shaking. He groaned into you.

He slid a finger in slowly and deep, curling expertly inside the narrow warmth of your cunt. “Fuck, she’s tight,” he whispered, like you were a secret he was keeping from God. “Gonna fuck you with my fingers, baby. Gotta open you up a little. Can’t have your brain going all fuzzy the first time I get this cock in you.”

Your moan echoed off the bathroom walls.

His second finger made you twitch. The sound of your wetness, the slop of it as he curled into that spongy sweet spot, had you biting your lip so hard you thought it might bleed.

He nuzzled his face between your legs like he lived there, mouth lapping and sucking, eyes flicking up to watch you unravel. He wanted to see it when you fell apart.

“Give it to me,” he murmured. “Let me see that sweet little O-face. Come for me, pretty girl.”

You came with a choked cry, thighs trembling, fingers gripping his hair tight.

He moaned as you soaked his mouth. Didn’t stop licking until your legs shook so hard he had to hold you still.

When he finally pulled back, panting, he looked up at you with his glasses fogged and mouth glistening.

You blinked down at him, dazed. “You… you didn’t even come.”

He grinned. “Nah. This was just for you.”

And when you reached for his belt, he caught your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“Next time, baby,” he said, lips brushing your skin. “Wanna do it right. My bed. Clean sheets. A whole playlist if you want.”

You blinked. “You have a pussy playlist?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “It’s alphabetical. Starts with Ain’t No Sunshine and ends with Zelda’s Lullaby. I’m romantic.”

You laughed so hard he had to kiss you quiet.

⸻

You didn’t mean to stay the night.

You were just supposed to stop by. Drop off the USB with the psych flashcards you promised him. Maybe let him flirt a little. Maybe flirt back. Maybe let him kiss you again with those soft, smug lips and that stupid pretty face.

But Gojo opened the door shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, snowy hair a tousled mess, and glasses forgotten—eyes bright, boyish, hungry.

You were done for.

“Hey,” he murmured, reaching for your waist the second you stepped inside. “Missed you.”

You should’ve teased him. Should’ve said something smart about needing the flashcards back because you didn’t trust him not to get cum on them.

But he kissed you before you could breathe. Hands on your face. Mouth hot and slow. Tongue sweet and coaxing your lips apart.

And the way he whispered “my sweet girl” as he walked you backward to his room?

You never had a chance.

⸺

His bedroom was dim. Clean but cozy. Vinyl spinning soft jazz in the corner. Warm light spilling golden over the sheets.

The bed was unmade.

He laid you out in the middle of it like you were delicate.

“You look so pretty in my bed,” he whispered, slipping your skirt up your thighs, fingers grazing the waistband of your panties. “Been dreaming about this. Every night.”

You swallowed. “You’re such a romantic freak.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your thigh. “I’m your romantic freak.”

And then he peeled your panties off.

Took his time. Dragged them down slow, knuckles brushing your skin like a caress. Kissed the inside of your knee. Then your hipbone. Then your mound.

When he looked up at you, breath hot against your slick folds, his eyes were glassy. Almost reverent.

“I’m gonna eat you raw again,” he murmured. “But first—” He reached up to cup your tits through your tee. “These’ve been haunting me.”

You were already squirming. But when he sat back and pulled your shirt off with care, like unwrapping a gift, your breath caught.

No bra.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. “These were made for me.”

You flushed. “You said that about my ass last week.”

“And I was right about that too,” he said, palming both tits like he couldn’t believe his luck. “These sensitive, baby? Hm?”

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes.”

He leaned down and spit on one nipple, watched it drip, then licked it slow.

Your hips bucked.

He moaned into your skin, sucking hard enough to leave it red and glossy before moving to the other, rolling your nipple between his fingers. “Wanna suck on these while I’m inside you,” he whispered. “Wanna feel you clench when I bite.”

“Toruuu—”

He kissed down your stomach. “Yeah, baby. Gimme that. Let me hear it.”

You were dripping by the time he got back between your legs. And he tasted it. Licked you up and down like he was checking how ready you were.

Then he sat back, licked your pussy juices of his lips, and pulled his sweats down.

No boxers. Just Gojo. Big and hard. Blushing pink at the tip of his cock. Veins thick and throbbing.

You whimpered.

“Raw, yeah?” he asked, already reaching for the lube on the nightstand. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you baby, I Promise.”

You nodded. Wide-eyed. Breathless and needy.

“Good girl.”

He lubed his cock with lazy strokes, watching you with the filthiest little grin.

“You gonna let me in, sweetheart?” he whispered, pressing the head to your dripping entrance. “Gonna let me fuck you raw for the first time?”

You whimpered again.

“Yeah,” he cooed. “My smart little girl. Letting the team captain with the big dick stuff her full. I’ll be gentle.”

And he was. At first.

The stretch made your eyes roll. He groaned low as he sank in, inch by inch, hand cradling the back of your thigh, holding you open.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he hissed. “Grippin’ me like you never want me to leave.”

Your nails dug into his back. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

He buried himself to the hilt. Stayed there. Panting. Forehead against yours.

“I’m never gonna stop,” he whispered. “Not with you. You’re it. My sweet, smart, sexy girl.”

And then he started to move.

Sow at first, then dragging his girthy length out and pushing back in like he was sculpting your cunt to fit his cock forever.

Your tits bounced. His mouth latched back on. Tongue flicking, lips sucking, teeth grazing your swollen nipples while he fucked you slow and stupid.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” You couldn’t even form a sentence.

“You feel me in your tummy, baby?” he rasped, pressing a hand to your belly. “I’m all the way in there.”

You nodded, crying now. He was too big. Too deep. And it felt too good.

He kissed the tears off your cheeks. “I got you. I got you. You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

Your thighs shook.

And then he snapped his hips forward.

You screamed.

He picked up the pace, fucking into you raw and wet and perfect, whispering praise between gritted teeth.

“Taking me so good—s'fuckin’ tight m'gonna fill you up, baby, make a mess in this pretty pussy—”

You came around him with a sob.

And he followed, moaning your name, voice cracking as he spilled inside you, hot and thick and endless.

After, he pulled out slow. Watched his cum drip from your puffy pussy onto his sheets.

“Gonna frame this,” he said, dazed.

You groaned. “You’re disgusting.”

He kissed your forehead. “You’re mine.”

And then because he was sweet like that—he got a warm towel and cleaned you up, humming something soft under his breath.

You asked what the song was.

“Track seven on the playlist,” he said. “The I Just Fucked My Soulmate suite.”

You laughed until he had to kiss you again.

⸻

You wake up to the smell of bacon and Satoru Gojo in nothing but an apron. His back is bare, his hair is messy, and there’s flour on his cheek like he’s been fighting dough. Or maybe just playing house.

You watch from the doorway, blanket still wrapped around your naked body, your thighs still sticky with last night’s mess.

Your pussy aches. Your nipples are sore.

Your heart? Stupid.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he calls, flipping a pancake and glancing over his shoulder. “Hope you like your eggs scrambled and your boyfriends whipped.”

You blink. “Boyfriends?”

He smirks. “Don’t play coy. I rawdogged you and kissed your tears. You’re emotionally owned.”

You shuffle in and sit at the counter, lips twitching. “Owned, huh?”

He slides a plate in front of you—eggs, bacon, pancakes stacked and cut already, syrup on the side, a little peeled tangerine at the edge like he’s auditioning for domestic god of the year.

Then he leans across the counter, bare chest close to your face.

“Yeah, baby. Owned. Cuffed. Dicked down. Whatever you want to call it.”

Your face warms. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. Then softer, “You hungry?”

You nod, suddenly quiet.

He kisses your cheek and sits beside you, close enough to touch, letting his thigh press against yours.

You eat. He watches. Not in a weird way—just like he can’t help it. Like he’s memorizing the curl of your fingers around the fork. Like he’s obsessed.

“Made you coffee too,” he adds, handing over a mug. “The slutty blend. Extra cream, two sugars, and a kiss for the girl who let me cum inside her.”

You nearly choke.

But he just grins and tilts your chin. “Open.”

You blink.

“For your vitamins,” he deadpans, holding out a gummy shaped like a peach.

You pop it in, chewing slowly. “This the ‘girlfriend experience’ package?”

He shrugs. “More like the ‘you let me see your nudes and your soul and I want to spoil you until you forget anyone else exists’ package.”

You roll your eyes. “So dramatic.”

He leans in. “So whipped.”

And then he kisses you, slow and sleepy, like you’re the only thing on the planet that matters. Like he’s still hard and you’re still his, and neither of you has anywhere else to be.

Later, you shower together. It’s soft. Sweet. Hands washing hair, soapy fingers gliding across skin. He drops to his knees to lick you clean again, slow and sweet before fucking you against the tile with your foot on his shoulder.

He eats you through your orgasm.

Then lathers you in his body wash and kisses your bruises in the steam.

You leave his apartment hours later wearing his hoodie, his cologne, his cum in your panties, and a lazy little smile.

He texts you five minutes after:

toru 💙

forgot to say: you’re my sweet girl now. officially. I’m gonna feed you, fuck you, and ruin you forever. xoxo 😘

You roll your eyes.

But you don’t stop smiling.

It was meant to be cute. You’d brought him sweets—melt-in-your-mouth mochi from the little shop he liked, pretending like it was just a treat for your “favorite study buddy.” You’d even worn the skirt from cheer practice, all pink and tight and innocent, with the softest little cardigan over your crop top like you had no idea what kind of filthy thoughts lived in your head when he sat too close during tutoring.

He was so good, too. So fucking good. Sat cross-legged on your dorm bed, legs spread under his gray sweats like a goddamn angel, licking red bean paste off his thumb and humming low.

“Sweets for your brain,” you’d said, plopping beside him.

“You tryna make me fat or fall in love?” he laughed, voice all lazy and syrup-slow. His tone was teasing, but he held the mochi like it was holy. “This shit’s addictive.”

“Mm,” you hummed, inching closer. “You’re already too smart. Thought I’d distract you.”

“You always distract me.”

It was that line. That line. That little spark in his eye as he leaned back on his palms and let you crawl closer, carding your fingers over his knee.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” you whispered. “How fucking cute you are?”

He blinked, pink-tipped ears, wide eyes like you’d cursed at him.

“Me?”

“Mmhmm.” You cupped him over his sweats, that innocent smile still on your lips. You wanted him to feel soft and safe before you ruined him. “You hide it so well. Your cock. Big, sweet, shy thing—just like you.”

“Wha—wait—”

“Shhh,” you cooed, kissing just under his jaw. “Let me thank you properly, genius boy.”

And maybe it was the way you sounded—so sugary, so gentle, so sure—that made him go still. Just his breath rising, quickening as you dragged the waistband of his sweats down his hips.

God.

God, it was perfect. Thick and flushed and fat. Soft veins curled up the length of it like it was shy, like it didn’t know how pretty it looked under the dim yellow light. His balls were big, tight like they didn’t know release, and that big pink head was already glistening for you—just a little, like he’d leaked in his pants the second you touched him.

“Oh, baby,” you whispered. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

“I-I—” he stammered. “Didn’t think you’d—fuck—I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, kissing the head, then the shaft, then down to the base where your tongue slid over the warmth of his skin. “I’m gonna take such good care of you, Satoru. I wanna taste all your brain cells.”

His hands fisted the blanket. His hips jerked when your lips wrapped around his tip and sucked, slow and warm, messy from the start.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Oh fuck—fuck, that’s your mouth?”

“Mmhmm.” You took more, inch by inch, until your nose brushed the soft tuft of white at the base. You were drooling, moaning, swirling your tongue just beneath the ridge, and you felt his thighs tremble. His cock twitched against your tongue like it was overwhelmed—like it had never been inside anyone before.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

You pulled off just long enough to murmur, “That’s the plan.”

Then you went right back down, slower this time, dragging your spit with you and cupping his balls in one soft palm, rolling them between your fingers as you suckled him deeper, deeper—until he was moaning like he was possessed, like he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck, baby—wait, I think—” he panted, hips jerking once, then twice. “I think I’m gonna—shit—what the fuuuck—!”

He gasped. His whole body arched. And then he made the prettiest sound you’d ever heard—somewhere between a whimper and a choked moan—as his cock throbbed deep in your throat and let go.

It squirted.

Endlesss ropes of thick hot cum flooding the insides of your greedy mouth.

You didn’t move. Just moaned and swallowed, little strands of that white cream already dripping and stringing down your chin.

He stared at you, wide-eyed, like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

You licked your lips, leaned up, kissed the corner of his mouth.

“First time?” you asked sweetly.

He nodded. Barely breathed it out.

“Oh, angel,” you smiled, pressing your cheek to his thigh. “We’re just getting started.”

He was still twitching.

Still leaking, too—fat, sensitive cock resting half-hard on his stomach, flushed angry pink like it hadn’t just spilled its guts down your throat five seconds ago. And he looked ruined. Silly little grin slack on his lips, sweat glistening at his temples, his big blue eyes fogged like you’d just short-circuited every synapse in his pretty, overworked brain.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, breath warm against the soft curve of his thigh, and watched the way he gulped when you shifted onto your knees between his legs again.

“Wait—n-no way, you're not…” he blinked, eyes going wide. “You can’t be serious—”

“But I am,” you purred, stroking two fingers up the length of his sticky shaft, watching it jump in your hand. “What? Thought that was it? You think I was gonna stop after one little taste?”

His stomach jumped. A soft gasp escaped him when you kissed his inner thigh, just beside his twitching balls, your tongue sneaking out to trace the sensitive skin there.

“But—fuck—I'm still… I just came, like, a lot, baby,” he panted, voice cracking on the last word like he didn’t even know he’d said it out loud.

You smiled sweetly up at him. “I know. You did so good.”

Your hand curled around his cock again, slow, deliberate, your thumb brushing over the slick, sticky mess still clinging to the head.

“But you’ve got so much more for me, don’t you?”

He whimpered.

No seriously—he whimpered.

You could see the panic in his face, some helpless mix of disbelief and gut-punched awe like his dick was betraying him by getting hard again under your touch. But god, it was—it was thickening fast in your grip, glossy with your spit and his first mess, already pulsing in your hand like it was starving for more.

“You’re too mean,” he whispered, flushed down to his chest now. “You’re too fuckin’ cute to be doing this to me…”

“You wanna stop?” you teased, your lips just a breath from his tip, your voice all sugar and sin.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to answer.

Because when you leaned down and gave that swollen head one slow, reverent kiss, his hips bucked up like his body knew better than his mouth. And when you moaned around him again—when you opened wide and took him back in, inch by inch, heavy on your tongue—he sobbed.

“Fuck—fuck—you’re gonna make me cum again—oh my god—”

You sucked him slow, slow, your spit dragging down his shaft, cheeks hollowed and eyes half-lidded as you worshipped him with your mouth like he’d given you every correct answer on earth and you were still begging for extra credit. Your fingers wrapped tighter around the base, milking him in rhythm with your tongue, your soft little whines making it obscene—like it wasn’t enough just to make him feel good, no, you had to enjoy it too, like your whole mouth had a crush on his cock and needed to show it off.

His thighs were shaking already. His hands were fisting the sheets again.

“Angel,” he gasped. “Angel, I can’t—I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking burst—”

He was loud this time. Shameless. Eyes rolling back as your tongue pressed flat to the underside and you moaned right into his slit, so wet and messy and greedy it was like you wanted to crawl inside him and kiss his brain through his tip.

And then it happened.

His whole body jerked—then seized—then stuttered like a corrupted file as he came again, hard, shaking, choking on a cry that splintered halfway through. His cock twitched in your mouth, every pulse spilling more cum than you thought possible, flooding your throat, dripping down your chin, your lips, your hand.

He looked destroyed.

Flushed pink to his ears. Sweat dripping into his lashes. His mouth open but not forming any actual words.

And all you did was smile, soft and warm and perfect, and press a kiss to his trembling thigh.

“You okay, genius?”

He blinked. Gave the tiniest, dazed little nod.

“You sure? You look like I broke your dick.”

“You did.”

You giggled. Sweet, innocent. Like you hadn’t just deepthroated the soul out of him.

“Good.”