𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐢

The first time Ryomen Sukuna sees you, it's at his frat party.

It was a Friday night, syllabus week, and the gentle breeze that ruffled through the air was still warm from a summer that would soon give way to the autumn rain. Every kid in college, drunk or not, was taking advantage of this holy trinity, and his frat was no exception, beating the others to throw the first 'Welcome Home' party of the semester.

It’s a free invite tonight, though they still preferred to keep a ratio, and the house is packed to the brim. People spill out onto the large patio and down the steps to the front lawn, leaving a trail of crushed red solo cups and mangled beer cans in their wake, a growing mess for the pledges to clean bright and early tomorrow morning. The girls stumble about in giggling cliques, and the guys try to intercept where they can, still a little rusty from the summer. Music booms from the basement of the house, where Gojo's likely trying his hand at the DJ booth, causing the ground to tremble with the bass as the beat echoes its way up and out into the night air. A group of pledges had transformed the kitchen into an open bar in addition to the one in the basement, complete with an array of handles and coolers, and Choso’s pretending to know how to mix drinks while stepping off to the side to press little packs of whatever his customers desired into their palms. The backyard, on the other hand, was supposed to be off-limits, but that notion is quickly abandoned when someone jumped into the pool, beckoning others to follow suit. Even the upstairs is filled, claimed by the high and horny.

All in all, the party is a raging success. The only thing missing is another drink in his hand and a girl wrapped around his arm.

Which, normally, Sukuna prioritizes fixing above all else, but Shoko was still complaining to him about her landlord, and Geto was sure as hell taking his sweet time to get back to his girlfriend. He left Shoko in Sukuna's care a couple of minutes ago when a pledge ran up to them, all out of breath over some guy puking in the bathroom, and Sukuna knew better than to test Geto when it came to Shoko. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, but Geto liked to be safe and there's always the occasional drunk idiot.

Honestly, Sukuna’s surprised Geto isn’t back yet; he could barely go an hour or two without talking to his girlfriend.

"—and I keep texting him about the ants, but he neve—Hey!" Shoko snaps her fingers in his face, effectively pulling him out of his reverie. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah," Sukuna mutters, barely even glancing down at her as he shamelessly watches a group of girls dancing on the table set up outside. Its original purpose was beer pong, but Sukuna wasn't complaining.

She squints at him, hands on her hips. "Liar," she counters, and then, without looking back, "You're watching that blonde stripper with the boobs."

He finally looks down at Shoko, who had let her sleek dark brown hair grow out past her shoulders, but was otherwise still the same since they'd met back in high school. He, however, looked almost nothing like the boy she'd met in her freshman year, save for the same intense eyes and the golden tan.

"She's not a stripper," he says with a roll of his eyes, tipping his Corona up to take a swig.

Shoko looks over, and Sukuna follows her gaze to see the blonde peel her top off and swing it over her head, earning well-deserved cheers. She turns back to him with a raise of her brow, and he can only grin in response. When he looks back up, the blonde is staring straight at him, eyes raking down his body.

"Yo, did Geto text how long he was gonna take?"

Shoko frowns and turns her phone over in her hand, the light washing over her high cheekbones and the little mole under her eye. Her notifications only include a couple of texts from friends and an email from some tight-ass professor, but nothing from Geto.

"No, he mu—" her eyes slip past him for a second before doing a double-take, her expression replaced by an immediate grin. "Oh my God!"

She rushes past him, almost clipping his shoulder in her excitement, and Sukuna has to hold back a sigh, used to this behavior. The blonde is still looking at him as she swings her hips, and he's tempted to just walk over. Judging from the chorus of laughter that bubbles from behind him, Shoko wouldn't mind, so he turns to tell her, fully expecting to see that one friend from her high school whose name he can't ever remember.

Instead, it's you.

He can't quite make out your face yet—Shoko came barreling at you so hard that you two spin as you hug, your head tucked over her shoulder—but the first thing he does is aptly note the curve of your ass in those jean shorts. You've rolled over the hem of them and paired it with a summery little tube top made entirely of sheer lace, save for the sturdier fabric up top, bunched in a sweetheart neckline. He has ample time to appreciate the soft swell of your chest and the line of your spine with those dimples at the base before you pull away from Shoko.

She says something to you, but it all blends into the buzz of conversation and music in his ears as he studies you. The high points of your face are all shimmery, your cheeks colored with a faint blush, and your hair has caught a hint of frizz from the heat, but it only makes it seem more alive as it falls loose and sways, wild with motion. Your eyes squint a little when you laugh at whatever she's said, crinkling at the corners and almost painfully expressive, all big and glimmering with that contagious sort of delight.

You don't see him, not yet, but he finds himself waiting for your gaze to fall on him.

"Oh, a couple of minutes ago," you say, glancing around the party behind you, and he realizes you must be answering a question. "Hime's here somewhere, too, but I kinda lost her when I went to get this."

You hold up a seltzer, one of those low alcohol percentage ones that tastes more like soda than booze, and shake the can, a shallow splash showing that you'd almost finished it. He takes the opening.

"Need a new one?"

Sukuna steps closer, bringing himself into your orbit. He thought you were pretty when he saw you from the side, but when you turn to look at him for the first time, it makes him pause for a second.

You blink up at him, lashes long and fluttery, as they cast shadows on your cheekbones, and you've got this smile, lips plush and glossy but only slightly, as if it's worn off since you first applied it. Your tongue comes out to wet the bottom pillow, a quick slip of pink, and it sends a little thrill down his spine.

You, on the other hand, seem almost unbothered, giving him a once-over as if his interruption has slightly inconvenienced you. He has to admit that it’s pretty hot.

"They told me this was the last one," you tell him, nodding your head in the direction of the house.

"Oh," Shoko jumps in before he can answer, "I should've introduced you guys earlier."

She gives him your name, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth, silently testing it out with a cocky little nod that doesn't seem to impress you. When she gives you his name, however, you offer no reaction, and that sparks something in him.

You know who he is. He's certain of it because even if you didn't frequent the frats—which he's also certain of because he'd know if he'd seen you before—his face is plastered on the game posters cluttering every inch of campus, and the hockey team's Instagram page has a follower count that surpasses the student population.

Instead, you're ignoring him, or at least, ignoring who he is. There’s an itch in his chest when he realizes what you’re doing, and he hasn’t decided if it’s annoyance or intrigue yet, but it draws him closer to you, nonetheless.

"He's the VP here," Shoko adds, and that seems to catch your interest. There's a little glint in your eyes now, a bit of an impish look that he has a strong urge to tease out of you.

"Does being vice mean you'd know if they keep a secret stash of these somewhere?" you ask, tilting your head, playful and innocent all at once.

It makes Shoko chuckle next to you, and he can't help but crack a grin, half his signature smirk and all pure sin.

"We normally do," he admits, one hand casually slipping into the pocket of his dark-wash jeans, "but why not go for something stronger?"

You arch a brow, and he ignores the sharp look Shoko gives him. She got annoyed when he hit on her friends, but any pretty girl standing in his frat and looking like that in the soft, warm wash of the fairy lights is fair game to him.

"What about a beer?" he offers, and you can see his canines poking out from behind the stretch of his smile, a touch lower now and near-predatory. "Or we can go for a round of shots?"

Normally, that's all it takes. That inviting tone, the dark look in his eyes, the way he angles his head a bit to make it seem like the entirety of him is focused down on you.

Too bad you know better.

You shrug, turning to Shoko. "No thanks," you say easily, wrinkling your nose a little. "I don't like the taste of beer."

The brief look you give him after, the subtle-but-impossible-to-resist challenge that flashes in your eyes, keeps him from cutting his losses and going back to the blonde. Nothing against her, of course. He imagines that if she could move like that while dancing on an old piece of wood, she'd be pretty good in bed, but, more often than not, he likes the fight, the chase, the sear of heat on his skin before drowning that fire, and it's clear you do too.

"Noted," he says, meeting your gaze with an unrelenting one of his own. "I'll go grab that drink for you."

He moves past you and Shoko to the open door of the house, not missing the way you watch him move for a second before ultimately going back to your friend. He takes that bare moment of attention as a win, heading back into the house through the masses.

No one needs to be moved when Sukuna makes his way through a crowd; people simply part to let him through without even being asked. He has that air about him, the weight of his reputation preceding him, and people watch as he passes by. He avoids the looks the girls give him and catches the eyes of a few of his frat guys, half-heartedly bumping his fist against theirs and accepting a couple of heavy-handed thumps on his back before he enters, making a beeline through the heavy thrum of bodies for the bar.

Choso is, as expected, lazily leaning on the wall to the side, his dark hair spiky with sweat as he aims an easy grin at a girl who's currently passing him a half-smoked blunt. It's about a hundred times more humid in here than outside, and the smoke curling up against the ceiling wasn't helping. Sukuna had no qualms with setting his bottle down and striding over to him, plucking the blunt out of his grasp and grabbing a fistful of his collar to pull him up off the wall and drag him back to his post.

"Yo—" Choso protests, albeit weakly, and stumbles over his feet as Sukuna shoves him behind the counter. "The hell's the matter with you!?"

"Long Drink," is all Sukuna offers him as he nods at the back cooler, tossing the still-hot blunt into an abandoned cup of mystery liquid and watching it hiss. "With cranberry juice and salt on the rim."

Choso looks mildly irritated, but a slow grin grows on his face when he processes the order.

"Salt on the rim?" he teases, but goes to grab the Long Drink, anyway.

"Just shut up and make it," Sukuna mutters, rolling his eyes as he takes his beer again and downs the rest of it in one go. "And get me another beer."

"Who's the girl?"

Choso cracks the can open and slides it over to Sukuna as he grabs the cranberry juice from the side. Sukuna takes a big enough swallow to make room for an extra splash of cranberry juice before sliding it back across the damp wood.

"None of your fucking business."

It doesn't deter Choso, who was a year younger yet infuriatingly unafraid of him, as he empties the last bit of cranberry juice into the can.

"You just dragged me away from my most loyal customer," Choso counters, glancing back at the girl who was waiting for him with a pout and hazy eyes, and he gives her a wink, pulling out the salt. "I think you owe me."

"Don't owe you shit," Sukuna grumbles, leaning heavily against the counter.

Choso pours the salt onto his palm, lifting it slightly to roll the lip of the can in it. The cold water from the cooler makes the crystals stick, and he manages to angle it so that none of the drink spills.

When Sukuna goes to grab the drink, Choso pulls it back out of reach, raising a brow. He has half a mind to grab him again, but he didn't want to risk spilling that drink.

"You wouldn't know her."

"Try me."

Sukuna hesitates for a second, and then gives him your name and watches as a faint flicker of recognition passes through his eyes. It's honestly kind of hard to see anything pass through them with how bloodshot they were, but he's known Choso long enough to figure it out.

"Shoko's friend?"

"Y'know her?"

He shrugs and sets the can and another bottle of beer down in front of Sukuna. 

"Seen her around," he says, and that's all he gives him before going back to his girl, letting her press him up against the wall again.

Sukuna doesn't ask for more, taking both drinks in one hand and heading back out the way he came. As soon as he clears the doorway, he turns to find you and Shoko where he last left you, still talking near the hedges.

You're laughing at something she's said again, a bright, twinkling sound that floats above the violent thrum of music, and he moves to the side as he approaches you, coming up from behind. He presses the cool metal of the can against your bare shoulder, startling you and making Shoko roll her eyes at his antics.

You jump a little and turn quickly, not exactly scared but definitely surprised, and something that smells dangerously like smoke sparks in your eye when you see the culprit. Your brows pull down in a furrow, and you open your mouth to likely tell him off when you're suddenly distracted by the drink, different from any other one you've gotten tonight.

"What's this?" you ask, carefully avoiding his touch when you take the can from him and suspiciously eyeing it.

He grins, devilish in both intent and looks. "Try it."

You glance down at it and back up at him. "It's open."

He hums and doesn't offer you anything else. You notice the little crystals on the rim, a couple of clumps slipping down with the condensation, and bring your thumb up to wipe a little off.

"D'you spike it?" you ask, but there's no real accusation in your tone.

"It's salt," he says, watching you lift your thumb to your mouth and taste the crystals, lips pursed around it as you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

Jesus.

"And?"

"Can't ruin the surprise," he shrugs, crossing his large arms as amusement dances in the explosive red of his eyes. "What? Y'don't trust me?

You turn your head to Shoko, looking for confirmation, and she rolls her eyes again but nods, pulling a cigarette packet from her pocket.

"He's stupid," she says as she pulls a stick out, "but he's not that stupid. Worst case, it tastes like shit."

"Best case," he counters, still watching you as you regard the can skeptically, "it's the best thing you've ever had, and you fall to your knees thanking me."

That gets a laugh out of you, short and sudden. "And then what?" you tease, bringing the edge close to your mouth. "I tie my hair up and return the favor?"

Behind you, Shoko snorts around the cigarette in her mouth, patting her pockets for a lighter, and Sukuna's grin only sharpens as you take a sip, watching your tongue peak out again to lick a bead of salt and seltzer from the corner of your mouth.

"Only if you want to," he flirts, and savors the way your eyes light up at the dare.

"Well," you simper, taking another sip, "only if you beg real nice for it."

The words somehow satisfy his ego and ignite his pride simultaneously, urging him to best you at this little game you two were playing now, but before he can, you take another sip and glance up at him.

"This isn't bad."

It's his turn to raise a brow now, stepping closer into your space. "You sound surprised."

"I am," you say, not backing down. "What's in it?"

"Trade secret," he answers, and watches the way your eyes drop to his mouth when he brings the beer bottle up, hooking his teeth into a gap and loosening the cap so it pops off.

You know what Sukuna's doing, you've seen it done a hundred times before, but this somehow makes your nerves go all electric, as if it's new. You can't explain the shiver you have to tamp down as you watch him, all pointed teeth and scathing insinuations.

"And what do I have to do to kno—"

You're abruptly cut off by a loud buzzing from your back pocket, and you slip your phone out to look at the Caller ID. Sukuna mourns the loss of that sentence as he sneaks a look at your phone, catching 'Utahime Iori' before you swipe your thumb across the screen and lift the phone up to your ear.

"Where the hell d'you go?" you ask, only slightly exasperated and mostly fond.

You take another sip and catch that smirk of his as he watches you do it, rolling your eyes and turning to scan the crowd for your friend. He can barely hear the voice on the other side, but it makes you stand up on your toes, eyes now tracking the crowd for a target.

"No, I don't see hi—Oh, shit," you interrupt yourself, a low mutter under your breath. He turns to see who you're looking at, but he has no idea who to look for in the throng of party guests. "Yeah, yeah, I see him now. Don't worry about it, I'll come get you."

Shoko looks up, cigarette still unlit and her search for a light unsuccessful. 

"Want me to come with?"

Shoko and Utahime were friends from high school, the type to roam the same circles but never really grow close until recently, when they rekindled their friendship last semester. That was how you met Shoko, when Utahime brought her to your shared apartment one day to have dinner with you and the two other roommates, and you and Shoko became fast friends.

You're about to agree when you glance over her shoulder and see a familiar dark-haired man stride your way, eyes trained on her. Geto's hair was up in the classic half-ponytail, and he barely registers the person he shoulders past on his way here, patting his jacket pocket for something.

"No, it's okay," you say, jutting your chin to Geto to get her to look. "Your boyfriend's back."

Shoko turns, half a smile already on her face as he finally gets to you guys, pulling out a lighter and flicking it beneath her cigarette, hand curled around the flame to keep it from blowing out. He glances up at the company and gives you a short smile, which you return, before looking at Sukuna.

"Had to kick the motherfucker out," he tells him, and Sukuna only nods, gaze still on you and the way you lick the salt from the rim, humming lightly at the tang of it.

"I can still come and help," Shoko offers, but you just shake your head.

"It's fine," you reassure her kindly. "Hime's fine, I'm just gonna go bring her out."

At the end of the line, Hime's still rambling from the bathroom she's hiding in, telling you about her almost-encounter with the man at the other end of the lawn, and you offer short words of affirmation as you begin to step away.

"Okay," Shoko shrugs, already settling into Geto's side as his hand finds home in the curve of her waist. "Come see me before you go, though."

"Yeah, we will," you agree, already a couple of feet out, but, before you go, you look at Sukuna, who's still watching you with those eyes that you'll likely think of later tonight. "Thanks for the drink—No, babe, not you, just keep talking."

You turn, too preoccupied with Utahime to see the way his brow furrows, the way he considers following after you. He doesn't think you'd mind. The drink seems to have softened you up a little, and he's not sure if he could convince you to end up in his bed tonight, not with the way you seem to be able to keep up with all his moves, but maybe he can get you into a corner for a couple of minutes and convince you of some other things.

He's about to, actually, ignoring the look Geto's giving him above Shoko's head right now, before he feels the light scrape of nails dragging down his biceps. When he glances down, he finds the blonde from earlier, still clad in only a black lace bra and a small denim skirt, looking up at him with dark eyes and a sultry little pout.

It's almost like instinct, the way his arm curves around her as he lets her reach up and whisper something into his ear, but he only half-hears what she's saying as he watches you walk away, eyeing the teasing glimpse of your ass under those damn shorts.

The second time you see Sukuna, it's actually probably from some Instagram post of the hockey team or one of those large posters of the players hung up in the gym. The second time you meet him, however, is at the bar, about a week or so after your first encounter.

You honestly weren't expecting to see him so soon after the last time, if at all.

You'd left kind of suddenly, tracking down Utahime after she'd locked herself in the basement bathroom because she saw the guy she'd gone on a date with last week fully making out with another girl. So, you stayed in there with her as she ranted about it, affirming that 'yes, it's really weird that he'd do that when he called himself a shy guy with not a lot of experience on his Tinder' and 'no, I don't think being drunk excuses his actions, especially when he told you he wanted to go exclusive with you really soon—even if it was weird that he said that on the first date'.

You weren't sure how Utahime kept attracting these sorts of men, but you are sure that she should probably stop looking for men at all on Tinder.

When you did finally manage to coax her out of the bathroom, much to the annoyance of the long line waiting behind the door, you couldn't find Shoko anywhere. You didn't think it wise to keep looking around when Utahime was currently at the stage of grief where she was promising to brutally 'fuck him up' in some really creative ways, so you both ended up leaving without saying bye, though you did send her a quick text.

You guys didn't go home right after, however, as you found yourself at a different frat when two of their brothers eyed you and her passing by. You'd both flirted a little, doing what you had to do to skip that line and get a direct invite inside, where you 'accidentally' lost them in the crowd near the cute DJ. The party was smaller than the other frat and the guys were a little sleazier, but the DJ, who had been watching you and Utahime dance for about ten minutes before inviting you up, was apparently specifically invited.

He wasn't a frat guy, but a supposed rising star who balanced the terribly burdensome life of being a DJ and a college student with a trust fund. You didn't really care about that, though, or how low his hands settled on your hips, because he was a good kisser and he let you play all the songs you wanted.

He'd slipped his number into your phone that night, and you'd texted sparsely over the next week before he invited you to come see him play here, at the bar that was a twenty-minute walk from your apartment.

This time, both Chloe and Tara joined you and Utahime. You all lazed about your shared apartment for most of the day, taking turns in the shower before turning on the speaker music and compiling all your going-out clothes into one pile. Shots were tossed back, the two bathrooms were split between hair and makeup, and you guys took pictures for the photo wall behind the couch before leaving the apartment, fashionably late and already tipsy.

By the time you got to the bar, the alcohol had settled into your system, and you were comfortably drunk, coordinated enough to text him that you were in line. It was good that you did because the line was awful, and after a bit of flirting—all four of you bunched together and crafting responses on your behalf—he came out for a second and brought you guys in immediately.

And then he led you through the dense crowd, the vibe electric and frisky tonight, to the DJ booth at the front end of the bar, painted in swatches of neon lights from the strobes above. There were some other people on the platform, too, all with the same bright pink wristbands and instructions not to crowd the DJ too much. He, on the other hand, didn't really seem to care, keeping one girl by his side at all times.

Tonight, it seems to be you, his hand resting just above the swell of your ass as he leans in to say the same variations of 'You look really hot' in your ear. Again, you don't really mind because he actually is a decent DJ and he knows how to match your vibe, but you need a break from him and his liquor-scented breath and the lines of white powder streaking his keyboard for a minute, so you retreat to the back-end of the platform to dance with your roommates.

And here you were, wedged between Utahime and Tara while Chloe was pressed to your side, all of you rolling your hips and swaying your arms above your heads to the music. Some heady mix was playing right now, and for a second, you're kind of glad you left him because he'd likely take advantage of the beat and slip his hand lower on your ass and grind on you.

Which, generally, you didn't mind when you were this drunk, but doing it in front of such a large crowd was a deal-breaker for you. As far as you were concerned, not every other kid from your college needed to see him practically dry hump you on stage, no matter how cute he was.

You're not certain how much time passes while you dance up on that stage with your girls, but eventually the track switches and a more rhythmic beat ripples through the air. You swing your hips to the music and bop your head, adjusting to the faster tempo. Just as you find your groove, a warm hand settles on your lower back, and you don't have to open your eyes to recognize the scent of tequila as a warm puff of air curls against the nape of your neck.

"Hey, baby," Evan mutters low against your skin, lips dragging up the side of your neck. "Why don't you come back to the booth?"

His hand slips around to your front, his intentions clear as he presses up behind you. You tilt your head to the side to let him mouth at your jawline before looking up at him with a little grin.

"You done with the set?" you ask, turning in his hold to drape your arms over his shoulder, looking up at him from underneath your lashes.

He dips his head lower, nose brushing yours. "Almost. C'mon."

You let him lead you out from the back of the platform, pressing close to his side as you shuffle through the horde. His hand slips down, testing the boundaries, and you let it.

You're no fool, you know what it all means, and you know exactly what you want from it.

When you get to the DJ booth, you're greeted by a group of three other guys and two girls, all crowded around the setup. One of them is leaning over it, reddish-brown hair flopping forward before he suddenly tosses his head back, shaking his head and sniffing, palm coming up to rub his nose. The guy to the side, a familiar-looking face with spiked dark hair and darker eyes and a tattoo running across the bridge of his nose, spots the two of you first.

“Hi Choso,” you greet, yelling over the music.

“Hey,” he greets back, a slow grin growing as he tilts his head down at you. “Haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“Y’know him?” Evan asks, and you nod.

Who on campus didn’t? Even if one didn’t buy from Choso, his name would echo in their conversations. He wasn’t the only dealer on campus, but he was by far the best, boasting a wider array of picks than what any other plug could get you here. You personally hadn’t ever directly bought anything from him, but you’d been with Shoko a few times last semester when she’d snagged a blunt from him.

“Want anything?” he asks, hands stuffed in his pockets, and glances at Evan’s arm around your waist. “It’ll be on discount tonight.”

“Discount?” You laugh, a little unbelieving but less on edge with the buzz of alcohol and the familiarity of Choso, even as the two other guys are now eyeing you as you stand next to their friend. “For what?”

“First-time buy,” Choso offers with a shrug. “Always see you around, but you never ask for shit.”

That causes all heads to turn to you, and Evan chuckles in your ear, warm and lacking any real judgment.

“You’ve really never bought anything from him?” he teases, bringing you out in front of him as you roll your eyes and shrug.

“No,” you answer, throwing Choso a mock glare over your shoulder, as if he’d just outed some big, awful secret.

“How come?”

His friends are suddenly at your side, respectfully far enough but still in your space. The pure redhead, the one with freckles dusting his pale skin, grins at you.

“Wanna get something for me instead?”

The girl beside him, with a septum piercing and plum-colored hair, elbows him with an annoyed look. 

“Shut up, Ty,” she nags, and then steps up to you, looping her arm through yours. “Obviously, she’d rather give it to me.”

You giggle beside her at his expression. She’s not overbearing in the slightest, and her touch is gentle enough for you to feel at ease. She smells like weed and vanilla, a curious combination that has you drunkenly leaning into her a little.

“Why the fuck would she get it for you and not me?”

They go off into a little argument while you still stand at her side, and Evan’s distracted by his other two friends, who are messing with the knobs on his DJ setup. Choso is talking to the other girl, someone that you only faintly recognize, probably a face you’ve seen here and there.

Before you can bring yourself to tune into their argument or even venture back to Evan’s side, there’s a prickle at the back of your neck. You’ve been turned away from the dance floor until now, but when you look back, craning your neck to take in the sight of a rolling throng of sweaty bodies, you don’t see anyone watching you, though you could barely see anyone ‌with how dark it was. Still, the sight of so many people below you, even if most of them are lost in their own worlds, unsettles you, and you decide you need a little more alcohol if you’re going to stay up here.

When you look back, you find Evan back in front of you, crowding close again. You place a hand on his chest, keeping him from coming closer and kissing you or something in front of all these people. He gives you a confused smile, hand coming up to grab yours and pull you in so his mouth is near your ear.

“What’s up?” he asks, still loud as the now violent thump of the beat reverberates through the space.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” you tell him, pulling back just a little to see him nod. “I’ll be right back.”

The girl next to you, with her arm still looped around yours, leans in too.

“I’ll come with,” she offers, and you nod along.

She makes quick work of dragging you two through the space and off the stage, readjusting to hold your hand so that you could stay tethered in the dense thicket of people swerving this way and that. You keep close to her as you two duck and weave past them, giggling and a little giddy from what you already had tonight.

Normally, you aren’t one to buy drinks at the bar. The prices are insane, and your father always checks your credit card bill, so you tend to get the guys to pay for you, but sometimes, when you’re drunk enough, shooters call out to you with an allure you can’t ignore.

“So, what’s your name?” she yells over her shoulder. 

The feeling of being watched follows you, but you still can’t really make anything out in the darkness, even with the sweeping streaks of neon lights. The music is just as loud here as it was closer to the stage, reverberating through you from the ground up. You have to yell your name out to be heard.

“What’s yours?”

“Amaira,” she says, a little softer now that you guys have finally got to the point where the crowd has thinned out a little. “How d’you know Evan?”

You glance back, catching his sandy blonde curls at the DJ booth, his headphones slightly askew.

“Met him at a frat last week,” you answer as you both make your way over to the bar on the other end. “We texted a little, and he told me he was playing tonight.”

She nods as her hair glints in the low light, and you’re beginning to think it’s actually more maroon than plum.

“TDX?”

“Yeah, he was playing there.”

“No way,” she says, surprise creeping into her voice as she turns to look at you. You didn’t notice it before, but she has a lip piercing that matches the gold septum ring. “I was there too.”

“Really?” You two make it to the bar, and you lean against the wood, waiting for the bartenders to finish with their current customers. “I didn’t see you.”

She shrugs. “I was hopping around different frats that night,” she explains, tapping her long nails on the grain. “We were probably there at different times. You a senior?”

“Junior,” you reply. “What about you?”

“Same,” she says, and then continues when you give her a curious look. “Evan’s actually my older brother’s best friend. You probably saw him up there—the guy doing coke on the records?”

“Oh, yeah,” you remember, rubbing the back of your neck to ease the goosebumps despite the heat. “I don’t think I actually saw his face, though.”

“Lucky you,” she snorts.

Just then, a group of girls stumble up to the bar on Amaira’s other side, and one of them seems to recognize her, nearly falling on her as they hug. They start to chatter animatedly, and another one takes a step toward you, an invitation to talk, but the bartender taps the counter to get your attention, and you decide to order first.

“Two lemon drop shots, please,” you say, elbows braced on the wood.

“Make that four,” a voice adds from behind you, gravel-rough and shockingly familiar enough to make your stomach swoop pleasantly.

You turn to see Ryomen Sukuna standing closer than you expected, an arm coming up to hold the counter next to you as he leans over, eyes glinting. Your shock only lasts a second before you raise a brow, the same attitude you gave him the first time you met warring with the urge to play nice and let him do whatever he wanted to do with you. 

The attitude wins, obviously.

“I’m not paying for that.”

The deep-throated chuckle he lets out makes your nerves buzz in a way alcohol couldn’t compare to. It settles deep in your gut, curling up with the satisfaction of being able to pull it out of him, as you lean back against the bar counter.

“Put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender above your head, and you grin, a little more reckless tonight than usual. You silently thank Tara for that extra shot she made you take before you left the apartment.

“Does your tab have a limit?” you ask cheekily as you flutter your lashes up at him.

The entertained smile he gives you seems more predatory than anything, sharp canines teasing the plush of his bottom lip. To your side, the group of girls had stopped talking the second they saw him approach you, and now they explode when he gives you that signature grin, but you can barely hear it with the way his presence drowns them out.

Sukuna’s presence had the effect of drowning out a lot, actually, and you’d noticed this at the frat too. You aren’t sure if it was that imposingly broad set of shoulders, the sheer width of his toned biceps, those tattoos curling up his neck from the collar of his shirt. He’s intense in a way that makes your toes curl in their black boots, the crimson of his eyes flickering with something dangerously dark, the set of his jaw made sharper by that one set of tattoos that traced the line of it, the faded scars that littered his tanned skin.

Whatever it is, it makes the world fade away into practically nothing behind him when he focuses all that intensity on you. The line of his shoulders, the towering height of him above you, the arrogant tip of his head, the messy locks of his faded pink hair falling over his forehead—all make you feel simultaneously like the only girl in the world and like you’re in some terrible trouble. At the frat, you were able to distract yourself with Shoko and the chaos around you, but here, with the way the darkness warps around him, like gravity bends to center around Sukuna, he’s impossible to escape.

And he knows it.

Sukuna’s other arm reaches to the bar behind you, effectively trapping you against the wood for a long second. He savors the way your breath catches when he does, the way your eyes briefly flicker down and then back up. You’ve been intentional with the way you meet his gaze directly, unafraid and bold, but he has the urge to crowd closer and loosen that control you hold over yourself.

Instead, he takes two of the shot glasses the bartender put out behind you, pulling his arm back to offer one to you.

“No limit,” he says, watching as your fingers cleverly take the shot from him without ever actually making contact. It makes his grin grow wider, makes you feel you’ve somehow fallen into some trap. “S’long as you give me a reason to keep it open.”

He can almost predict the arch of your brow by now, and that obstinate flash in your eyes. You’re not exactly trying to resist him, but he can tell you’re going to make him work for it.

“Cheers.”

You clink your glass against his before you both tap them on the wood and tip them up. He finishes his before you do, and it gives him time to watch your throat work on the swallow underneath a thin sheen of sweat.

He saw you before you saw him, dancing at the DJ booth with that blonde guy who clearly isn’t keeping you occupied enough. You were magnetic up there, the sway of your hips intoxicating, and even as Geto tried to convince him to slip into the back section for athletes, he kept to the balcony on the second floor, watching you.

When you talked to Choso, he knew he was in, because right after you stepped off the stage, Choso caught his eye and gave him an imperceptible nod. It told him that you and that DJ weren’t anything serious, just a little fling that, if he plays his cards right tonight, he could easily disrupt.

You bring the glass down, setting it back on the bar counter as your face scrunches at the taste.

“Too strong?” he asks, though the burn of alcohol hadn’t even touched him.

“No,” you say, shaking your head and rubbing your nose, “too sour.”

“Seriously?”

You glance up at him, your smile a little sheepish but unapologetic. “I don’t really like sour things.”

“You ordered lemon drop shots,” he reminds you, and, for some reason, you weren’t expecting the snarky side of him, but it thrills you anyway.

“They’re sweeter at the other place,” you defend yourself. “Besides, that tasted more like lime.”

He laughs again, and you’re well aware that he could just be doing it to get into your pants, but you can’t help the pride that slips down your spine.

“Alright,” he considers, tilting his head. “So no beer and no sour things.”

“You’re keeping track?” you ask, though it comes out less like a question and more like a statement, and he doesn’t seem the least bit embarrassed.

“You’re on my tab,” he says, handing you another shot, and this time, you let your fingers brush over his in a feather-light touch, the contact gone before he can even take advantage of it. “Gotta know what to order, don’t I?”

You don’t drink your shot yet, just holding on to it, and he waits you out as your free hand comes up to fiddle with the shiny pendant of one of the gold necklaces draped around your neck and down the open expanse of your chest in your low-cut black tank top with the lace of your red bra peeking through. It’s inevitable, the way his gaze drops down to the rise of your boobs and the detail of the lace, and then further down to the tight black skirt you paired with it, dangerously short as it covers your ass and very little else, wondering if you had a pair of matching panties underneath.

“You said I had to give you a reason to keep the tab up,” you backtrack, still playing with the gold coin pendant, and you can’t help but smile at how distracted he is. “Why’s it open right now?”

He hums, gaze darkening as he takes you in. “Well, for starters, this outfit is doing you a lot of favors right now.”

You roll your eyes despite the little ego boost it gives you, and glance away with an amused huff, as if you can’t believe that’s what he’s focused on right now, even though that’s exactly what you want him to see.

“Plus,” he says, drawing your attention back to him and his nearly-blown pupils, “you’re interesting.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, giving him an incredulous look but letting his hand slip from the counter to your waist now. The size of it settles on at least half the span of your hip, hot and heavy against the thin layer of fabric that separates skin, and it nearly makes you dizzy.

Christ, if his hand had that effect on you, you can’t help but wonder what the rest of him could do.

“You barely know anything about me,” you counter, refusing to be distracted by his maneuver, no matter how the heat of it brands your skin.

“I know you don’t like beer or sour things.”

“Oh, yeah,” you scoff, sarcasm dripping from your teeth. “That’s really the crux of my personality.”

“I also know you use big words to flirt.”

“Crux is four letters,” you deadpan, and he shrugs, that little smirk of his never leaving.

“Four letters in an order that makes no sense to me,” he admits, and then lowers his head just enough for you to have to tamp down the shiver that runs up your spine. “Besides, what do you know about me?

Now that he’s got you pressed up against the wood, close enough to cause a rumor, you can make his cologne out past the other strong fragrances and the tang of sweat and smoke that hangs in the air. The woody scent makes your head spin, cinnamon and leather undercut by something lighter, something you can’t quite put your finger on. It nearly makes you step closer, just to try and figure it out, but you don’t because you recognize that glint in his eyes, so you choose your words carefully.

You had to keep up, but you couldn’t give away too much.

“You’re in a frat, you play hockey, you get in a shit ton of fights,” you list off as you give him a measured look, your gaze dragging from top to bottom and then back up. Those are all the usual things, the things everyone already knows about him, but then he watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and his hand flexes on your waist when your eyes snap up to his, daringly bright with a small smile that tells him you’re up to no good. “And you’ve got a pain kink.”

That shocks him for a second, long enough that he barely notices when you knock your glass against his, tap it on the wood, down the shot, and scrunch your face up again.

“I swear they’re using lime in this.”

“Where’d you get the pain kink from?”

You roll your eyes like it’s obvious. “Well, one, you aren’t denying it,” you point out, grinning with pride at your little detective work. “And, two, no one gets that many face tattoos without liking it.”

“Well, everyone’s got a thing for pain,” he retorts, and then taps his glass on the wood and tosses his own shot back, sliding it back over to the bartender.

“Everyone?” you repeat, crossing your arms over your chest.

His smirk sharpens, and your eyes catch on his canines. “You gonna tell me you don’t?” he asks as he takes one more step closer, causing you to crane your neck as his fingers begin to slide up your side and his voice drops an octave. “You gonna say you don’t like it when it stings just a little before you feel all good?”

Oh.

You can’t help the way something tightens at the base of your core at his words, the way the idea of it flashes in your mind and makes your breath catch with the anticipation of it. And you know he sees it too, you can tell with the way his fingers press on your ribs, the gleam of victory that flashes in the smoke of his eyes.

When he leans in closer, your lashes flutter and your heart thuds painfully fast, and you can’t tell if that’s a good sign or a bad one.

You’re saved by a loud voice and a flash of messy white hair.

Satoru Gojo is the antithesis of Ryomen Sukuna in nearly every way possible, but it’s those few exceptions that allow him to drape a heavy arm over his friend's shoulder and yell in his ear without getting punched in the face. Not that Sukuna doesn’t look like he wants to, though, because the way his face goes blank in shock and then very quickly darkens with anger as his hands are thrown to his sides in tightly clenched fists suggests that he’s close to knocking Gojo out for the interruption.

“Hey!” Gojo yells, or maybe just says, because while you haven’t had very many interactions with the man, you’re pretty certain this may be his regular volume at all times. “Have we met?”

You laugh, beguiled by both the randomness of the question and the annoyed look Sukuna’s giving Gojo right now. The two shots are beginning to settle into your blood, making the bar a little hazier than it is, but it also gives you enough courage to stay relaxed, still leaning against the bar coolly as if two campus celebrities weren’t currently placing the spotlight on you right now.

“No, I don’t think so,” you answer, not unkind but honest as you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “But I think you know my friend.”

“Who’s yo—”

“Get away from her, you white-haired freak.”

Utahime, with perfect timing, appears behind him, shoving his shoulder to get past him and settling into your side. Her arm goes around your waist, yours goes around hers, and she rests her chin on your shoulder as she glares at her high school enemy.

“Came to save you,” she tells you, fully serious in a way that makes you giggle and lean into her, a familiar warmth wrapping around you when your best friend is near.

“Consider me saved.”

“Utahime!” Gojo exclaims, despite her clear disapproval of him. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know,” she says, tone dead. “I was hoping to keep it that way.”

“Hi,” a voice interrupts, and Amaira interrupts from the side where she’d been watching alongside that group of girls.

You realize they must have been waiting the entire time you and Sukuna were talking, and the idea of all those stares sours something in your stomach. They don’t seem to mind, however, as they crowd closer, and the more people that enter the conversation, the more space grows between you and the pink-haired man, yet you can still feel the heavy weight of his stare on you, his eyes stormy. It’s cold now that he’s not as close, the skin of your ribs still burning with the phantom of his touch.

“I didn’t know you and Sukuna knew each other.” 

The way she says it isn’t rude, but it’s expectant and Utahime stiffens next to you. You smile despite it, pointedly ignoring the way he’s currently burning holes in the side of your face with the laser-like glare of his.

“Not really,” you answer truthfully, glancing at him. The tension is thick in the air, and the alcohol in your system doesn’t help, but you endeavor to be unbothered, anyway. “We kind of just met.”

“Really?” she perks up, stepping forward and inviting herself into the circle.

“Yeah.” 

You look over at him to find him gazing at you with hooded eyes, something suspiciously dark flashing in his eyes, as if he’s daring you to go through with your next move. It’s an odd crossroads you’re at right now, and it’s not exactly like you want to hand him over to her, but you don’t want to show him the want swirling in your gut, and you kind of like how your denial seems to get under his skin.

You can’t help it; you’ve got just as much pride as he does and you can’t resist the challenge.

“This is Amaira,” you introduce, smiling with a vindication that comes more from the way his jaw clenches than from being friendly. “Amaira, Sukuna.”

You take a small step to the side, urging Utahime to shuffle over a bit. His eyes drop to your feet, tracking the movement, and then back up to yours, his body coiled like he’s about to follow. The idea of the chase sends a hot thrill down your spine.

You’re still standing in front of him, just a little past him now, with Amaira on your left and Utahime on your right. Gojo, standing on Sukuna’s right, introduces himself to Amaira, and the group of girls she was talking to also invite themselves in, introducing themselves to the famously charming hockey player. Sukuna, on the other hand, is still watching you, confusion and annoyance and something that looks faintly like interest rippling in the red glow of his eyes.

Before either of you can do anything, Utahime turns her head to you, coming close to your ear so that she doesn’t have to yell over the music.

“I don’t wanna interrupt or anything…”

“You’re never interrupting.”

“This guy keeps bothering Chloe,” she tells you, and your eyes scan the crowd to find your friend. “Tara and I tried to pull her away, but his friends are, like, intercepting or some shit.”

You find Chloe off to the side, gold cuffs glinting in her braids as she shakes her head, looking increasingly uncomfortable the longer she stands there talking to some dark-haired guy. His back is to you, so you can’t make out his face, but it’s clear that he’s saying something to make her shrink away from him.

“Did she tell him about Dante?” you ask, finding Tara talking to two guys who must be the guy’s friends, looking annoyed and trying to get past them.

“He said, and I quote, ‘you should break up with him.’”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew,” you mutter, and take her hand in yours. “Let’s go get her.”

Before you can take a step, however, Sukuna leans to the side in front of you, tilting his head.

“Heading out?” he asks, brows raised. That smirk on his face had dropped since Gojo came, but there’s this little quirk at the corner of his mouth that tells you he’s not given up yet.

The girls on your left suddenly fall a little quiet, watching the interaction with probing eyes, waiting for an opportunity to slip in.

“I’ll be right back,” you say loudly with a very wide, very fake smile as you glance at them and then back to Sukuna. “In the meantime, you should tell them about your open tab offer.”

They descend without hesitation, fluttering around him with loud giggles and manicured nails twirling locks of hair. It surprises him long enough for you to slip by, but apparently not long enough for you to make a break for it, as he catches you by the arm before you can lead Utahime out.

The contact sends a jolt through you, his hand calloused and warm and impossibly large, wrapping around your upper arm. You have to crane your neck up, looking at him expectantly, as if you’ve got better and bigger things to do than deal with whatever he’s got going on right now.

He’d find this annoying if it weren’t so well-played.

“Seriously?” he asks, voice low and a little incredulous, like he can’t quite believe you’re about to leave right now.

“What?” you ask innocently as you tilt your head and bat your lashes up at him, voice low enough for only him to hear. “You can have a pain kink, but your wallet can’t?”

You slip out of his grasp with surprising strength, disappearing into the crowd just as he turns his head to look. He’d follow you, but Gojo keeps him in his place with his arm slung around his shoulders as the girls crowd the bar.

It is, after all, on his tab.

The third time Sukuna sees you, it’s back at his frat.

It’s a Saturday night this time, maybe two weeks since that night at the bar, where he blew nearly two hundred dollars on drinks for him and that group of girls who were, apparently, the new executive board of Zeta Tau Alpha. It luckily boosted their previously less-than-flattering opinions of the brothers from Delta Kappa Epsilon, but the praise he got from his frat for it fell flat when he thought about the gleam of victory in your eyes that night.

He normally didn’t bother with the chase; he had no reason to, but something about the way you’d managed to slip out of his grasp just as his fingers were closing in sparked some sort of urge in him. He wasn’t sure when he was going to see again, but he’d already made his mind up about it.

Therefore, he supposes it’s a good thing Gojo is forcing him to man the entrance of the frat tonight, even though it was that asshole’s fault you slipped away that night, because Sukuna’s the first to notice you. He’s been standing here all night, arms crossed with an expression that warns anyone against arguing about the entrance fee or about how that girl with a see-through top got in for free and they didn’t.

He’s currently hearing out a group of four girls who are trying to convince him that they know someone in there, debating whether he should just let them go in or not, when he spots a familiar face walk up to Gojo. She’s got a little drunken sway in her gait, but she walks up with purpose, her black-blue hair styled with a large white bow in the back, bangs falling over hazel eyes that glare up at the president of DKE without fear.

“Utahime,” Gojo greets, unbothered by her unmistakable hostility, grin widening. “How have you been?”

She rolls her eyes and gives him some barbed answer, arms crossed and tongue just as sharp as it was when they were in high school. Sukuna recognizes her as Shoko’s friend from when she and Geto just started dating, though he never remembers her name because she refused to hang out with them if Gojo was there. It was easy for her to avoid him back then, even as their friends dated, because Shoko and Utahime went to a different high school than Sukuna, Geto, and Gojo.

Now, however, she was finding it increasingly difficult, especially when Shoko was always at his frat.

Sukuna watches them banter a little, but more so, he’s looking for you. He’d found out from Shoko that you and Utahime were good friends, with the added benefit of being roommates, and the last two times he’d seen you out, Utahime wasn’t far behind. That, however, was all he could get out of her before she got suspicious and asked him why, and he had to make his escape before Geto recounted the embarrassing story about how his bank account suffered that night. She still laughs every time she sees him now.

He’s glad she’s not out here right now to watch him scan the growing crowd outside the frat house for you. It’s a mess, barely resembling an actual linear line, and people shove and push to get to the front. It’s so packed that he can’t really make out faces or individuals, even as he tries to find the exact shade of your hair or the tune of your voice or the tone of your skin.

Just then, Utahime reaches out into the crowd, barely glancing back at it behind her as she still argues with Gojo, and tugs, causing you to come stumbling out of the mess. You’re obviously not paying attention to where you are, completely unaware of your surroundings as you frown down at your phone, glossy lips pressed in a purse, and eyes narrowed at whatever’s upsetting you on your screen. If it weren’t for Utahime leading you with your limp hand in hers, you’d have probably gotten lost in the churning crowd.

She holds on to you as your attention stays stuck to your phone, brows furrowed as you concentrate on typing something out with only one hand. The pale glow of the screen lights up your face, and he can make out the subtly transparent glitter that streaks your cheekbones and the tops of your eyelids, sparkling in the night. You’ve got a deep blush he can make out past the dark, and your lashes are heavy, all feathery and deceptively innocent as you blink, hair falling in a styled curtain around your shoulders and framing your face.

Before he can say anything, Gojo moves to the side, letting Utahime in for free despite the annoyed look she throws at him. He spots you behind her and deviously grins up at Sukuna over your head, ignoring the glare Sukuna gives him as Gojo taps your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hi!”

“Hi,” you respond before you can even look up all the way, the word an instinct more than a response as you drag your eyes away from your phone to see—

Gojo?

You’re turned away from Sukuna, so he can’t see your expression, but he can tell you're surprised by the way you jerk back to do a double-take and realize what frat you’re about to enter. Your head swivels, clearly looking for him, and he gives you a shameless grin when your gaze lands on him, reveling in the way you look so caught off guard, like a deer caught in headlights.

But then Utahime gives your arm another hard pull, clearly unaware of your predicament and simply in a rush to get away from the white-haired frat boy, and, again, you stumble and disappear into the crowd inside. 

And, again, Gojo stops him from going after you.

“Dude,” Sukuna snaps when Gojo pulls him back with a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” Gojo mocks with a roll of his eyes. “We’ve got entrance duty.”

“You’re kidding,” Sukuna deadpans, but the irritating grin on Gojo’s face tells him he is very much not.

“Relax, Casanova,” he teases. “Our shift ends in five minutes. Maybe you can use the time to strategize how not to let her slip away this time.”

Sukuna scoffs and shoves Gojo’s hand off, but still complies. True to Gojo’s word, the shift ended in five minutes, but apparently it took the new set of frat guys an extra five minutes to find the entrance, for which they promised to take up cleaning responsibilities tonight when catching sight of Sukuna’s glowering scowl.

It then takes Sukuna another ten minutes to find you, because you’re not at the bar or the basement or the backyard, which are the main hotspots tonight. The lawn stays thankfully clear of too many people this time, and the upstairs has been labeled as off-limits and blocked off, all of the rooms locked so that a repeat of that earlier frat party didn’t happen. He did not appreciate finding that threesome in his room.

He sees both Shoko and Utahime lounging by the pool, but you’re still nowhere to be found, so he does a second sweep of the basement, where Gojo was up on the stage again, messing with the setup of a very disgruntled-looking DJ. They keep having to switch the DJs out at each party because they’d all get annoyed that Gojo would end up taking control while dozens of girls gathered at the bottom of the stage and danced to the music, no matter how terrible the mix was.

Sukuna shoves through the compact crowd, using his height and build to his advantage as his eyes rove over the eager faces with a disinterested glance. It’s too dark to be able to make anyone out, and the flashing LED lights seem to hinder more than help. He reaches the other end of the basement and still doesn’t see you, so he heads to the bar at the back, getting a drink while reevaluating.

And then, of course, he spots you.

You’re actually not in the basement at all, but standing outside the double French doors that lead out to the backyard. He hadn’t seen you earlier because you’re keeping to the entrance, and the wooden back patio is positioned right over it. It’s a clever little hiding spot, and he can understand why you choose to stay there because you’re currently in the middle of what looks like a heated argument with that blonde guy from the bar.

You are not enjoying this conversation. Not that you enjoy a lot of your conversations with men; you found they had little substance to add, but this one in particular is grating on your nerves.

“—and can you blame me for thinking that we worked really well?” Evan asks you, running his hand through his hair as if he’s the one being tested right now. You’ve half a mind to throw the drink in your hand at him, but you don’t because you’re practicing being civil right now.

“You’ve lost your mind,” you answer plainly. “We fucked for an hour, you have no idea if ‘we worked well’ or if it was just that you ended up finishing, like, three times.”

His face reddens, and it’d be entertaining if you weren’t so annoyed. Apparently, he wasn’t too proud of how excited he got when you were making out.

“I didn’t fin—It was twice!”

“Sure, bud,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Whatever you say. S’not like I was there or something.”

“I’m not saying we have to be a couple,” he grits out, ignoring your comment. “Why not fuck buddies or something? You had a good time, didn’t you?”

Disregarding his make-out session thing, you actually did have a good time. Unfortunately, ‘good’ was all it was. You came twice, and that was honestly enough for you, each high giving you a nice buzz before you inevitably came down. It was more than the regular guy could do, but it was just so…

“Yeah, I don’t wanna do that.”

“Why not?!”

“‘Cause I said so,” you snap. “It was nice while it lasted, and now it’s done. Get over it.”

“That makes no sense!”

“It doesn’t have to,” you counter. “All that needs to make sense to you is that I’m saying no.”

You could tell him the real reason, tell him about how, at some point, you’d watched the seconds tick by for a minute, but this conversation was already dragging out longer than you’d like, and you don’t think he’s the type to let go of something like that so easily.

“Well, it makes no fucking sense when you don’t give me a fucking reason,” he argues, getting more agitated by the second.

“Hm,” you hum in mock consideration, and then take a step to the side, your patience running thin. “I can’t lie, that seems more like a ‘you’ problem than a ‘me’ problem. Imma give you some space to figure that out.”

You turn on your heel, ready to leave him and hit the pool, when you stop in your tracks at the shadow that lingers in the doorway, familiar in its size.

“Trouble in paradise?” Sukuna asks, voice deep enough that even when he speaks at a normal volume, you can still hear him beneath the thumping bass of the music coming from the basement. He seems amused, his tattoos stretching up the line of his jaw as he smirks at you. You have to ignore the way your stomach flips for the sake of decorum.

“Hey, man,” Evan says behind you, “we were in the middle of something an—”

“Actually, I was in the middle of walking away—”

“—and it’d be great if you could leave us alone to talk.”

“No!” you cry out, turning your head to give him an exasperated look. “How much clearer could I possibly be? We’re done talking!”

“You didn’t give me an actual answer or rea—”

“Sounds like she gave a pretty clear answer to me,” Sukuna interrupts and then looks down at you, crossing his arms over his chest. The ink shifts, the dark bands around his wrists and biceps almost swelling as corded muscles ripple underneath the skin. “Do I need to kick him out?”

“No,” you mutter, looking away from his arms. You didn’t want to waste any more time on this, and you were quickly losing focus with Sukuna in front of you. Apparently, you can’t catch a fucking break tonight. “It’s fine, we’re done.”

You move to pass Sukuna and hopefully find Shoko and Utahime when you feel a hand come down on your arm. Your response is immediate and sharp, twisting out of Evan’s grasp and whipping around, temper snapping. 

“What the hell do you think you’re do—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before Sukuna steps in front of you, deceptively fast for a man of those proportions. His broad back, clad in a thin black shirt that stretches across the span of his chest, nearly eclipses Evan fully out of your vision, and you find yourself blinking up at the arcs of ink on the nape of his neck, below the buzz of dark brown hair.

“She said fuck off,” he says, and it’s neither aggressive nor loud, just in that monotone voice that’s somehow intimidating all on its own. “Only reason I’m not dragging your ass out of here is ‘cause she said so, and I don’t wanna be seen next to a little bitch like you.”

You have to lean to peek around Sukuna, and you’re glad you do because Evan’s face is as red as a beetroot right now, and that is really not his shade. He glances at you, his brown eyes and thick brows pulled into a furious expression, and then back at Sukuna. Evan is a tall-ish guy, maybe a couple of inches shorter than Sukuna, and muscular, but there’s really no comparison between the two of them. Even if he looks like he’s about to throw a punch, he knows better than that.

Instead, he turns without a word and stomps away like, you have to admit, a little bitch.

You watch him go as Sukuna turns back to you.

“Wow,” you say blankly. “That went against, like, everything in Conflict Resolution 101.”

He shrugs. “Never took that class.”

“You probably should.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything in response, just keeps his arms crossed as he studies you, face unreadable. 

The theme tonight is ‘Party in Ibiza’, and you don’t disappoint. You’ve got a mini skirt on again, this one somehow a touch shorter than the last one, with a bunch of sequins and glitter swirling around the dark pink material, and a plain burgundy halter top with a deep neck to match. You’re decked out in gold accessories, the pendant necklace hanging low, a cuff snug on your left arm, your little dangly bracelets catching the light, and you’ve got a small white purse that hangs off your shoulder. The outfit leaves little to the imagination, and your skin subtly shimmers in the night every time the faintest light washes over you.

He can’t even blame Evan for wanting a second chance with you tonight. Too bad he’s here.

You squirm underneath his stare, the dark look that flashes in his eyes sending warning bells ringing in your head. But you can’t help yourself.

“How long have you been standing there?”

That brings the arrogant smirk right back to his face, and you almost immediately regret asking.

“Not long,” he answers vaguely, and then glances over to watch Evan turn and stomp up the stairs to the back patio. “Three times, huh?”

You blink, confused for a second before realization dawns on you like a tidal wave of embarrassment, and you groan, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, glaring at him as you take the last sip of your drink, pressing the cool material of your can up against your neck to calm the heat.

Instead of listening, he takes a step closer and leans down, shadows shifting over his face and amusement dancing in his expression. “How many times did you cum?”

Your eyes snap to his, brows furrowed at the low baritone of his voice. “I’m not telling you that.”

He hums. “You talked about how many times he came.”

“In a private conversation,” you argue, genuinely lost on how you’ve come to be in this situation right now, “that was between him and me.”

“You said it in a public space,” he says. “Makes it a public conversation.”

“Wha—No, it doesn’t!” you exclaim. “You were just eavesdropping.”

You can tell he’s enjoying getting a rise out of you, and you shift the can to a spot higher on your neck, quelling the flush of frustration simmering in your blood. His eyes drop down, clearly not ready to leave you alone. 

“You gotta stop drinking this shit,” he says, and then moves to take it from you, quicker than you can react.

“It tastes good,” you protest as you watch him read the description and scoff.

“Not even twelve-year-olds get drunk off of this.”

You squint at him. “How many drunk twelve-year-olds do you know?”

He ignores the question and shakes the can a little, looking at you with a smile you’d almost call pitiful if you didn’t recognize the tease in his eyes. His tattoos seem somehow more prominent tonight, under the faint glow of the fairy lights outside, and he’s dressed in a simple black tee and baggy jeans, which you’re pretty sure is the combo he was wearing the last time you saw him at his frat.

“There’s nothing left in here,” he says, and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s almost like I drank it.”

“Why didn’t you just throw the can at him?”

“‘Cause that would be littering.”

He laughs at that, the sound settling somewhere low within you. “Seriously?” he taunts. “You’re afraid of littering.”

“God forbid a girl cares about the planet,” you huff, crossing your arms and turning back again to walk away from him now. 

You’re certain that a couple more minutes in his vicinity would actually have you go into certifiable psychosis, and he’d enjoy every second. 

Just as you cross the threshold of the door into the basement, Sukuna rounds up beside you, long legs catching up to you faster than you can escape him. He grabs your arm and pulls you forward through the crowd, toward some destination only he knew.

“Hey!—” you yelp in surprise, having no choice but to stumble after him. His hold is surprisingly gentle for how rough his palm felt against your skin, burning your arm. “What’re you doing?”

“We are getting drinks,” he answers, looking back over his shoulder at you with a wicked grin. “Real ones, not whatever that shit was.”

You have neither the time nor the space to argue, and you can’t muster a loud enough yell over the music that booms through the small space. People are jumping up and down to the beat, bumping into you and nearly knocking you off your feet, but Sukuna’s grasp helps you stay upright. You’ve no choice but to keep close to him as he effortlessly parts the sea of people, all of whom are too busy admiring him to notice you slipping by.

He comes to a stop at the bar, and you have to scramble not to bump into him, maneuvering your arm out of his hold. You lean against the counter and try to peer over to see what they have. If you’re going to be here with him, you figure you might as well get a drink. When you glance around to see if it’s self-serviced, you find a familiar face behind the counter, pouring someone drinks from a pitcher of concerningly green jungle juice.

“Is Choso always your bartender at these things?” you ask, turning to see Sukuna already watching you, expression mild and smirk ever-present.

“Not just a bartender,” Choso answers, drawing close to you two as he winks at you. “Also a dealer. Discount still stands, by the way?”

“Discount?” Sukuna asks, crowding closer so you can hear him, and you feel his warm breath break against the side of your neck. He’s not touching you, not yet, but he’s close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him.

“First-time purchase,” Choso answers before you can.

“You’ve never bought from him before?”

You glare at Choso. “You enjoy doing that, don’t you?”

He just grins in response, already pouring a pair of shots even though you didn’t hear Sukuna ask him for anything. You roll your eyes and turn your head to look at Sukuna, trying to ignore how intense this man was, especially when he was bearing it of his attention down on you like that.

“No, I haven’t bought anything from him, and no, I won’t use the discount on buying anything for you.”

Sukuna chuckles and comes in closer as he grabs the two red solo cups Choso places on the counter.

“Alright,” he murmurs, his voice a rasp. “For you.”

You blink when he pulls back a little, and you realize he’s waiting for you to take the shot.

“No chaser?” you ask, looking up at him in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I can’t take this without a chaser,” you press, and then bring the cup close to your nose to sniff the contents, but you don’t get to before his hand is nudging your cup away.

“Don’t smell it,” he chastises. “You won’t be able to drink it.”

“I can’t drink it either way,” you argue, looking up at him with big eyes. Something hot coils in his chest when you do that, and now he’s imagining doing all sorts of things while keeping that gaze on him, but he has to push it aside when you double down. “I need a chaser.”

He rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the way they flicker for a second, the crimson almost glowing in the dark. The party roars on behind him, but it all fades into the background. You feel like you're on a rollercoaster when you’re near him, your stomach dropping and heart thudding at an irregular beat, suddenly all too aware of the effect he has on you.

“You’re a junior,” he says. “You can’t go through three years of college and not know how to just take a shot.”

“I don’t know anyone who ‘just takes a shot’!”

He raises a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cocky grin.

“I don’t know anyone normal who does that,” you correct yourself.

“I’m not normal?” he teases, but still reaches over the counter to grab another cup and a large bottle of Pepsi.

“You’re abnormal.”

“Back with the big words.”

“Abnormal has two more letters than normal.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks at you with that stupid grin again, the one you’re pretty sure girls have dropped their panties for, and now you’re wondering if it would really be so bad to join their ranks. You ignore the beginnings of want swirling within you as he hands you the cup of soda and knocks his shot against yours. Even after you thump it down on the counter, you regard it suspiciously, and he lets out an annoyed sigh, gently pushing the cup up to your mouth.

“Drink.”

You do. And it tastes fucking awful. You have to squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath to keep yourself from gagging, feeling the burn warm your chest enough to make it ache a little. You sip the Pepsi almost immediately after, but it takes a little for your taste buds to register it, and those few seconds in between are literal hell.

“Jesus,” you choke out, eyes still closed and lashes pressed together.

“You good?” he asks, and even though you can’t see him, you can hear the amusement in his voice. 

He looks down at you, face all scrunched up like the night at the bar, and he has the urge to reach up and press his fingers into the apples of your cheeks. He wonders if Evan did that, if he wrapped his fingers around that pretty little column of your throat, if you moaned all sweet for him, and he has half an urge to tilt your chin up and check for the telltale bruises. He doesn’t, however, and just watches you rub your nose again, like a habit.

“No,” you answer, blinking rapidly because you think there are tears from how disgusting that was. “That’s bad. That’s, like, really bad. What the hell is that?”

He leans over the counter again to sneak a peek at the handle. “New Am,” he informs you. “Green Apple.”

“It should be called Bad Apple,” you mutter, swiping under your lashes and still sipping on the Pepsi. “That was phenomenally terrible.”

“Do your words get bigger the more drunk you get?”

You give him your best withering look, not certain if he’s messing with you or not.

“It’s a little concerning that you consider ‘phenomenal’ a big word.”

“It’s an abnormal word,” he taunts, and you have to scoff, but you can’t help the stupid little smile he pulls out of you. 

Sukuna pours you another shot before you can protest, and then pours one for himself as well. He doesn’t take it yet, just sets the handle back down on the counter and shuffles closer so that his face is only a couple of inches away from yours. He’s leaning against the bar to bring himself down to your height a bit, and you shiver at the scalding press of him against you, unable to keep it down. He smiles at you like he knows something you don’t, those canines making their presence known again, and you think about Evan, who left a singular hickey on your neck, but then you look at those teeth again, and you think about them on your skin, sinking into you—

You gonna say you don’t like it when it stings just a little before you feel all good?

“Cold?” he murmurs, low and deep, breaking your trance as heat flushes up inside you again.

“No,” you say, a little too fast and a little too breathless, but before you can regain your senses—

“Why don’t you do it?”

You furrow your brow, lost and unnerved by his gaze, stuck in place as your mind goes all blank.

“Do what?”

“Fuck him again,” he says, jerking his head back in the direction of those doors, where Evan left, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not telling you that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s personal.”

“Why’d you fuck him in the first place?”

You study him for a second before you answer, taking in the stripe tattooed across the bridge of his nose, the slits in his brows, the probing glare of his red eyes. It’s not judgement, but he’s looking for something.

“Why?” you throw the question back at him, taking a sip of Pepsi and arching your brow. “Jealous?”

He shrugs, somehow gracefully for a man with such a broad span of shoulders. They seem to swallow you whole right now, narrowing your world down to just you and him and the buzz of alcohol that’s warming your blood and loosening your tongue.

“Just wondering,” he answers, though it gives you nothing. “You did leave to go fuck him.”

“I left to go help my friend,” you correct. “He was just… there after that.”

“You could’ve come back,” he says, and if anyone else would’ve said that, it would’ve sounded terribly pathetic, but pathetic is a far cry from Ryomen Sukuna, who’s looking at you with too much confidence, too much of that dark something swirling in his eyes.

“You seemed preoccupied,” you taunt, needing humor to break through the haze that clouds your head.

His eyes narrow at you, and a thrill shoots through you like lightning at the way he looks at you like you’re trouble. “You owe me two hundred bucks for that, by the way.”

The amount makes your eyes widen and your head jerk back in surprise. “You spent two hundred dollars on their drinks!” you exclaim, your voice dropping to a whisper as if it were a secret.

“The hell did you expect when you told them I was giving out free shit?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“You could’ve said no!”

“To the entire exec board of ZTA?”

You squint in confusion. “ZTA?” you ask, and then suddenly recognize the acronym when you say it out loud. “Oh, shit, the sorority!”

“Yeah,” he mutters, and then gives you a curious look. “How do you not know what sorority your friends are in?”

You shrink a little, stepping back and trying to hide the growing smile behind your cup, but nothing escapes Sukuna, whose gaze hardens as he follows you. You take another one, your back thudding against the wall of the basement, and it sends sparks skittering in your core, excited and nervous at the same time. He ducks his head, eyes sharp as he keeps up with you to close the distance again.

“What?” he demands, and you let out a nervous little laugh, at which he draws his brows together.

“Don’t get mad.”

“What?” he asks again, not really looking any less upset, but you had to admit, he was somehow hotter like this, with that divot between his brows and the stern set of his mouth and the tension in his jaw.

“Well… they’re not really my friends.”

His face drops for a second, and then turns thunderous. “You offered free drinks to strangers on my tab?!”

“No!” you backtrack, even though that was fully the truth. “They were just more like… acquaintances.”

“Acquaintances?” he repeats, and you nod. “Right. What are their names?”

You blink and try really hard to think of at least one of their names, but you don’t think you actually talked to any of them, and you’re terrible with names, so your chances are shot.

“Amy?”

His expression goes blank for a second, and you’re uncertain if Amy was actually someone there or not, but then annoyance flashes across his face again, disbelief coloring his groan, and he presses down on the bridge of his nose. He’s close enough that you can feel the sound rumble through his chest in the small space between you two more than hear it, and it makes your insides twist, has your breath catching in your throat.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” he complains, but you can’t detect any genuine heat behind it, so you giggle, unable to help yourself.

“I was being nice!”

He looks at you like he can’t believe what’s coming out of your mouth right now. And, to be fair, he can’t.

“You’re insane.”

“I’m generous,” you counter, cheeky and eyes so bright that he can’t help but lean in closer, his chest barely brushing yours, but you don’t seem to notice, or, if you do, you don’t seem to mind. “And now, I made you look generous. So, actually, you should thank me.”

“Thank you?!” he repeats, incredulous, and you beam up at him.

“You’re welcome,” you simper, and then take another sip from your cup.

Sukuna just watches you for a long second. Your amusement fades a little when those red eyes stare down at you like that, all dark and violent with something you don’t dare name yet, but the alcohol has sunk deep into your system by now, dizzying you enough to deafen the little voice inside of you that screams at you to run.

“What?” you ask, almost defensively.

Sukuna doesn’t answer, just blinks once, then twice, and then suddenly tips the shot back. You almost choke on your Pepsi when he does, finding yourself watching his Adam’s apple bob, the tan of his throat stretched out in front of you with the ink of his tattoos creeping around the sides. A perfectly timed flash of light streaks his body in red, and you realize how close he’s gotten without you noticing, his chest brushing against yours with every exhale. One more step would bring him close enough to—

“You owe me,” he says, tossing the cup onto the counter. 

You watch it bounce off, but never see where it lands because suddenly his arm is blocking your view, braced on the wall behind you, the sleeve of his black tee stretching around the flex of his biceps. When you look back at his face, he’s closer than before, slightly crooked nose a couple of inches from yours. 

“I’m not paying you two hundred dollars.”

“Then tell me why you won’t fuck him again,” he bargains, and you draw your brows together in equal parts confusion and annoyance.

“I’m not doing that either!”

“It’s one or the other,” he shrugs, and you’re only faintly aware of the party that rages on behind him.

The music changes beat, something low and heavy and loud enough that you can feel it thud in your chest, matching your heart rate. His eyes glint like rubies in the dark, messy pink hair falling forward to tickle his forehead. 

“Since when are those my choices?”

“Since I made them,” he answers simply, gaze pinning you in place.

You ignore the shiver up your spine at the dominance of his tone, ignore how it makes you want to shift in your spot.

“And since when do you decide what my choices are?” you scoff, attempting your very best to seem unaffected as you cross your arms. It’s a feeble attempt to keep space between you two, but it’s all you’ve got right now.

“Since you made me pay for random girls at the bar.”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” you argue.

“You got two hundred dollars on you?” he asks, and you channel your irritation into a glare, which is a lot easier said than done right now, when he’s leaning over you in a way that makes you feel smaller than you are.

You roll your eyes at him, nonetheless. “Do I look like I have two hundred dollars on me?”

Sukuna’s eyes drop, roving over you in a slow drag that sends goosebumps down your arms, and you nearly regret saying that. You can almost feel the heat of his gaze as it lingers on your upper thigh, the inch of skin between the hem of the top and the waist of the skirt, the deep cut of your top that shows off your boobs, pressing up and together with the way you have your arms crossed. When he looks back at you, his pupils are wider than before, an overwhelming darkness nearly eclipsing the jarring red of his eyes.

“Why not let him fuck you?” he repeats, voice dropping an octave, and you fight the haze that’s building in your head.

“Why are you so obsessed with this?”

Sukuna continues like he didn’t hear you. “He didn’t make you cum?”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, sounding amazed for all the wrong reasons. “Let me guess,” you sneer. “You think you’re the only guy on campus who can make a girl cum?”

The grin he gives you is pure sin, rows of neat white teeth gleaming in the dark, the tips of his canines teasing you. His tongue rolls over them, and heat pools in your stomach, pitching you down and making you unable to look away.

“No,” he admits, making your eyes snap up to his, and now he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. “But there’s a difference between making a girl cum and giving a girl a real orgasm.”

Fucking hell.

You need to get a grip because suddenly your knees feel a little weak, but when you attempt to take in a steadying breath, the scent of cinnamon and leather and something just barely sweet shoots straight up to your head, making the world spin. You try to get your bearings, but the press of him so close is so intoxicating that you can barely think straight right now.

“I’m not talking about this,” you mutter, and then move to slip out from the other side, but he’s quicker, his other arm coming up to fully trap you between the basement wall and the muscled wall of his chest.

You turn, anger flashing in your eyes, but he interrupts before you can voice your annoyance.

“Fine,” he concedes, not sounding like he’s surrendering in the least. “Don’t tell me why you won’t fuck him again.”

“Thanks,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Can I go no—”

“Why not let me kick the loser out?”

You blink up at him, equal parts shocked and agitated by his insistence. “Seriously?”

Sukuna shrugs, even though he’s still looking down at you with that devilish promise, the one that sends electricity shooting through your nerves. “S’not like you were gonna go home with him tonight.”

“Just ‘cause I didn’t want to have sex with him again doesn’t mean he deserved to be publicly humiliated,” you say in a tone that suggests you find him insane for thinking there was a correlation between the two.

“So he has a small dick, and you feel bad for him,” he says simply, as if he’s just summarizing your words instead of twisting them.

“What! No, that’s not what I—”

“He has STDs.”

“He doesn’t have ST—”

“He moaned a different girl’s name.”

“Stop!” you exclaim, smacking his arm with the back of your hand. Obviously, it doesn’t even make him flinch, and you cross your arms again, though you can’t keep the little laugh from tugging at the corner of your mouth. “He didn’t have a small dick, he didn’t have STDs, and he didn’t call out a different girl’s name! The sex was fine, he was just—”

You cut yourself off, but it’s too late. 

Sukuna’s looking at you now like you’ve just fallen into his trap, with a sharp grin. Regret immediately courses through you as you lean your head back against the wall and groan, shutting your eyes as if that’ll block everything out or reverse time.

“Don’t stop,” he teases, and he shuffles closer as the thin sliver of control you’d managed to maintain wavers.

“Stop talking,” you mumble, refusing to open your eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, you were just about to say it,” he insists, and you open your eyes to just look at him.

You’ve no idea how you got here, crowded up against the wall, caged in by thick arms on either side of your head, facing a man that was more legend than human. You knew what Ryomen Sukuna was before you knew who he was: the infamously brutal hockey player who liked to fuck around and leave a trail of lovesick girls in his wake, who always knew how to get what he wanted.

So what’s he doing here, pressing up against you like he can’t stay away, probing for answers that he seems far too interested in? The first time, at his frat on the first week of school, you’d thought it was a fluke; he just saw a girl that looked easy and was friends with his friend so why not go for it? The second time surprised you, but you’d chalked it up to the abrupt way you’d left at the frat. Maybe he was just testing if you were still a viable option.

This time, you have no idea what it is. You left him to pay for random girls, slept with a different guy, and actively refused to fall for all the old tricks. You entertain the idea of this being a dare, a bet between frat brothers, but you barely even know them, much less them you. Besides, it’s not like you’re some unconquerable virgin, you’re just a regular college girl who doesn’t have time for a relationship but does have needs. You fuck around here and there, but not enough for it to turn into gossip, and certainly not enough to spark interest.

“Well?” he asks, raising a brow. “He was just what?”

You consider telling him.

It’d be a little embarrassing for you, sure, but you know how to spin it to your advantage. You could picture it clearly. The only issue is that you hate the idea of being clumped into a collection of wins for him, just another notch in his belt. It isn’t that you want to be his one and only or anything like that, it’s the idea of adding to his inflated ego that gets to you. But…

But it’s not like he’s going to be your one and only either. You’re not the type to get attached so easily, and neither is he. And it’s not just his pride on the line, yours stood to gain just as much, if not more.

So, slow enough that his gaze drops to watch you do it, you uncross your arms and drag your nails ever so lightly up his arm and over the veined expanse of tattoos and skin. His other arm flies to your waist, grip flexing, branding the exposed skin that he held in his calloused palm. When you reach his shoulder, you lean in a bit to the other side of his head, just enough to bring your mouth near his ear, and pause to let a little puff of air roll across his neck, pushing up on your wedges just slightly to stretch your body up against his, feeling the toned mass of him against you, and then—

“Boring,” you answer, dragging your nails up his neck now, lips just barely brushing against the other side of neck. “Didn’t press me into bed like I wanted. Didn’t make me wanna beg for it.”

His grip on your waist tightens, your name on his tongue as either a threat or warning, you can’t tell, but it sends a hot thrill down your spine and straight to your panties either way. You don’t respond to him, just focus on the tension that settles in his jaw, bringing your hand to stroke the line of it.

“Didn’t have me crying at the stretch of him,” you say, breathing the words into his skin now, your lips still just the tease of a touch as you pull back, stare deliberately focused on the pillows of his lips before you look up at him through your lashes. Sukuna’s red eyes are now fully dark, glittering with the sort of hunger that twists in your gut, and you can’t help your taunting little smile. “Think you could do better?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond. Something snaps in him, hot and desperate, as he lunges, and then there’s the rough press of his lips against yours.

He’s not gentle with it, and he’s certainly not sweet. Sukuna kisses you with the raw sort of passion that has your knees faltering, lips moving against yours with a need that floods you with heat. His tongue licks against the seam of your lips, and his hand, the one not on your hip, comes up to the junction between your jaw and neck, thumb pulling at your chin to coax your mouth open for him, relishing in that little gasp you give.

It takes you a second to process, but then you’re kissing him back, trying to match his pace and intensity, just as hungry as him. He tastes like liquor and mint, and it makes you desperate for more, chasing the burn of it on your tongue, and your lips slide against his with the same force. Your other hand slides up his chest and to his neck, keeping yourself anchored to him as he kisses you so hard it makes your head spin and your lungs burn.

You pull away, trying to get some air, but he follows you, hand slipping from your jaw to tangle in your hair and tilt your head back as it hits the wall behind you, having you melt into him with a broken moan. He swallows the sound, the kiss turning bruising as he smiles against you, licking deep into your mouth. His fingers stretch across the span of your side, pressing into your ribs and brushing at the sensitive skin underneath your boob.

You have to push against his shoulders to get him to pull back for a second, just enough to catch a breath before he’s descending on you again, urgent, open-mouthed kisses that you can only gasp into, leaving you slumped against the wall.

“Sukuna,” you mutter, trying to keep the needy little whine out of your tone as he brushes your lips against yours again, and then once more as the hand in your hair shifts. “Wait, I need—”

You don’t get to finish before he’s moving down, pressing wet little kisses down your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut, head tipping back against the wall. Your breath catches when both his hands grip your waist, nearly engulfing the entirety of it and venturing dangerously high while he pushes his hips against yours in a dirty grind, the pressure eliciting a whisper of a whimper on your lips as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Come up,” he mumbles against your skin, and when you don’t answer, he nips hard at the spot between your neck and jaw to get your attention, making you yelp.

“What?” You’re all breathless and distracted, and it goes straight down to his cock as he pulls back.

“Come up,” he says again, watching with a dark satisfaction at the way you blink up at him, lips glossy and parted around little huffs of air. “My room.”

He ducks his head down again, lips brushing against your spit-slick ones. “We don’t have to fuck,” he murmurs, “but I’m not gonna do this in the fucking frat basement.”

You let out a breathless laugh, and then tilt your head up to kiss him properly. His hands squeeze the skin of your waist, but it only makes you bite his bottom lip briefly.

“If I go up to your room,” you say against his mouth, “I’m gonna want to fuck you.”

“Then come up,” he urges, and you hum, leaning up a little more to kiss him again, but he leans back, hand coming up from your waist back to your hair to tug at the locks and keep you from following him. He grins at the way your brows immediately furrow, and you glare at him, still fiery even after all this. “Gotta use your words, baby.”

You ignore the way the nickname sparks your nerves and roll your eyes. “Yes, fine, up to your room.”

Your hands have fallen to his chest with the distance between you two now, and you clench the material of his shirt to pull him back to you, impatient, and he lets you guide him with a deep chuckle. His hold on your hair tightens, and your scalp stings a little, but it twists into something hot in your gut.

“Couldn’t fuck the attitude of you, could he?” he mutters against your lips before indulging in a couple more kisses, his tongue scorching and heavy against yours.

“Shut up.”

“Brat.”

You begin to get lost in the rough press of his lips against yours again, melting into the feverish weight of him as his thigh comes between your legs. It presses against your heat just right and makes you squirm against him, electricity racing up your spine and making your head all dizzy, but then he retreats. You’re about to snap at him, but then he pulls you forward by your waist as both hands settle on your hips again, turning you around and urging you forward.

“Stairs,” he mutters from behind you, into the top of your hair, and you follow as he takes you to the stairs that lead up out of the basement. 

The press of him behind you, large and tense, has you stumbling forward, wanting nothing more than to stop and let him crowd you up against the wall again. Sukuna’s hands tighten on you, a near-bruising grip on your hipbones, as you climb up the stairs quickly, your ass brushing up against him, and you can’t help but purposefully press it back into him at times, the silence between you two thickening with tension as his fingers tighten.

When you come up the last step, you stop, unsure of where to go now that you're facing the large foyer of the house, with what looks like a living room to your left and a kitchen to your right. He bumps up against you from behind, not expecting you to stop so suddenly, and you instinctively turn to ask him. Before you can, however, Sukuna’s hand comes up, quicker than you can process, and grips your jaw to force your face forward, thumb and finger pressing into your cheeks, and something behind your navel pulls taut.

“You turn around right now,” he warns, voice low against your ear, and you shiver in anticipation against him, “and I’m not gonna be able to stop myself from fucking you against this wall.”

You’re distinctly aware of the prominent press of his length against your ass, and your panties grow damp, but you grin despite the warning. You hold on to the forearm of the hand on your jaw, nails digging in lightly.

“Alright,” you say, and you can’t keep the laugh out of your tone, even as you feel him squeeze your jaw with a warning. “Which way do I turn?”

His hand drops back to your waist, and he doesn’t answer, just pushes you to the right and then around the end of the wall to another set of stairs. You have to keep your balance by holding onto his forearm and the railing, especially when his feet nudge yours at a pace that’s faster than what you’re used to. He makes quick work of having you walk up the second set of stairs, dipping his head to drop burning kisses on your exposed shoulder. It makes your steps stutter, but he continues to push you forward, unapologetic.

When you get to the top of this set of stairs, you find someone standing there on his phone, blocking off a hallway behind him and a loft with a couch and TV to the right with another hallway at the other end. You blink in surprise, and he looks just as shocked.

“Oh,” you say. “Hi.”

The guy, who looks to be younger than you, opens his mouth to say something before Sukuna interrupts.

“Move,” he basically orders, and when the kid glances behind you, his eyes nearly double in size before he all but scrambles out of the way.

You can’t say or do anything before Sukuna’s pushing you again, nearly shoving you into the hallway past the loft, and you stumble.

“Hold on,” you gasp, feeling like you’re about to fall forward, but his tight grip keeps you upright. “Ow, hey!”

He stops at the end of the hallway, turning to the last door on the left wall. You’re still in front of him, so you reach for the brass doorknob, twisting only for it to stop halfway.

“What the—”

Sukuna kisses up your shoulder and neck, teeth nipping at the skin like he’s on the hunt for something. You’re about to mention the door, but then he finds that sweet spot just below your ear, and it sends sparks ricocheting through you, making your knees buckle. You melt into him the second he brushes the hot swell of his lips against it, head tipping back onto his shoulder, a quiet half-moan—more of a wispy breath than anything—leaving you as your eyes shutter, and you feel him smirk against your skin.

“C’mon,” he says, viciously proud as his teeth tease at the spot, hard enough to make you have to tamp down your whimper, squirming in his hold, but one arm wraps around you, trapping you in place, while the other braces against the door. “Get the door for me, baby.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, and you reach back to push against his chest, trying to think past the fog that clouds your mind as his hand starts to explore, fingers dancing at the waistband of your skirt. “The door—Sukuna.”

He lifts his head at the emphasis on his name, allowing you to shove him away a little, but not far enough. You’re both breathing hard as you turn your head to look at him, heated breaths mixing in the air between you, and his gaze drops to your lips.

“What?” he says, still looking at your mouth and beginning to nudge closer. 

You nearly give in, the press of him behind you and scent of him too disorienting to focus, but the cold metal of the doorknob grounds you enough to pull back.

“The door,” you say quickly before he can interrupt again. “It’s locked.”

He blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting that. He glances at the door, then you, then the door.

“Fuck.”

“What?” You twist around as his hand moves from your waist to his pat at his pockets.

“Need the fucking key,” he grumbles, and you lean back against the door, legs weaker than you realized.

“You need a key to get into your room?” you ask, watching him fumble for them as you cross your arms. Your breath is still heavy, your pulse roaring in your ears, and you fight to steady both.

“It’s an old house,” he huffs, finally finding it tucked into his back pocket. 

“So you locked yourself out of your room?”

He lifts the key to fit into the keyhole. “No,” he mutters, fiddling with the knob. “I locked the room so that other people wouldn’t get in.”

“Well,” you hum, watching him struggle, “now we can’t get in.”

“Fuck!” He pulls the key back out and jangles the knob before trying it again.

“Who even wants to get into your room so badly?”

“Last time it was open,” he says, pushing at the door, “three people decided to experiment in here.”

You blink, eyes travelling up the expanse of him. He’s hunched over the stupid doorknob, muscles coiled with the same tension that tugs at your gut and pulls you toward him. His wrist twists, veins prominent in the low lighting before disappearing into the flex of his biceps, and his other hand is still leaning against the door, right next to your head. His shirt is pulled taught across his shoulders, and rises as he messed with the lock, a sliver of toned muscle and the band of his underwear peeking through. Your throat goes dry at the hint of his v-line, the trace of dark hair leading down, and you have to force your gaze back up, ignoring the fever rush that blooms deep within you.

“Three people?” you repeat absentmindedly, voice a rasp, and then you realize what he’s saying and your face scrunches up. “There was a threesome in your room?”

He tries the key a third time, fiddling with the knob before finally glancing up at you, and his eyes narrow. “I thought I told you not to turn around.”

You grin up at him, all slow and sweet. You inch closer to him, the scent of amber and honey invading his senses as you wind your arms around his neck, leaning up on your tiptoes. It takes Sukuna a great measure of control not to shove you back against his door and kiss you senseless, maybe slide his hand up your thigh to the apex of you, as he works the damn key.

“I don’t remember,” you say, infuriatingly innocent as you lean close, forcing him to look at you. “Tell me why again?”

God, you’re a fucking vision right now. Your pupils are blown, eyes large and dark with a need he wants nothing more than to smother, and your lashes bat up at him in a way that makes his pants tighten impossibly. Your hair’s a mess from when he had his hand in it, and you tilt your head up at him like sin in the form of a woman who’s about to bring him to his knees.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the pledge watching you both, and Sukuna knows what he sees: the shorter than short skirt, the rumpled top, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the stretch of you against him.

He leans down and kisses you hard enough to have you shuddering against him, the hand braced on the wall above your head coming down to give your ass an appreciative squeeze, one he’s certain the pledge watches. You gasp into his mouth as he does, moving your plush lips against his with just as much pressure, your tongue licking into his mouth with coy licks, soft but just as intoxicating.

Jesus.

He pulls away, frustration broiling in his gut as his hand rests against the damn doorknob. You don’t seem to be deterred by the wave of anger that rolls off him in a swell of heat, pressing fervid, open-mouth kisses down his jaw and neck. You lick at the pulsing vein in his neck, teeth scraping skin, and he hisses, palm pressing against your ass as his fingers tighten.

“Fuck this fucking fuckass door,” he snarls. Just as he thinks maybe you can use Gojo’s room, he feels your shoulders shake against him, and when he looks down at you, he finds you stifling a laugh against his collarbone, eyes gleaming and lips pursed to keep it from escaping. “Are you fucking laughing at me?”

“Not at you,” you try, the excuse flimsy as you pull away from him, hands still braced on his chest. “With you.”

“I’m not laughing,” Sukuna deadpans, and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles up at that, turning your head away, but it’s useless because he catches it anyway.

The hand on your ass comes up to curl around your hip, and his fingers pinch the skin there with a sharp, harsh twist.

“Ow!” you wince, looking up at him in surprise, your eyes wide with humor and shock. Your hand flies to his wrist, fingers settling on the thick bands of ink. “What the hell!?”

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mutters, dipping his head down. 

He brings his arm up from your waist to wrap around the side of your neck, thumb pushing your head back as his lips hover over yours. Sukuna smirks at the way your breath stutters, lashes fluttering, but he keeps you in place, not letting you push forward to kiss him again, and the denial makes your eyes flash with a fire he wants to devour.

“At least I’m not the one that can’t get the door open.”

He scowls as you jerk your head out of his grasp and take the key from him, twisting around to the door. You pull at the door, and then push, testing the lock, before carefully slotting the key back in, gently trying to tell where it catches in the mechanism.

“You’re not getting in,” he says, with a finality that makes you turn your head to glare at him as he stands there with his arms crossed.

“Wanna bet?” you ask. “Two hundred dollars.”

“You already owe me two hundred dollars.”

You shrug, inching the key in a little further. “So I’ll be out of debt then.”

“Or you’ll be four hundred dollars in debt,” he counters.

“Aw,” you coo, making his frown harden. “Are you worried about me?”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, and then shakes his head. “Fine,” he concedes. “Two hundred dollars. But I’m expecting every penny of the four hundred when I win.”

Your eyes glint at the dare, and you turn back, focusing all your attention on the knob. The key slips in a little further, the mechanism still not giving way for it to turn. You work slowly, twisting every couple of seconds to see if the tines have aligned with the lock yet. Sukuna huffs behind you, but you ignore him and keep at it. Your chest burns with hazy desire, yes, but right now the fire of the competition rages a little brighter, your pride rearing its head in the face of his blatant disregard.

“This isn’t fucking working,” he decides after a couple more seconds. “I think Gojo’s roo—”

Click.

You turn your head slowly, a too-wide grin aimed right at him, and his eyes narrow.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Uh-oh,” you say in a sing-song tone, turning the key further.

“Shut up,” he glowers.

You tut, twisting the knob as the lock gives way and the door swings open. “This is not a good look for you.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Oh, man,” you say with a laugh, stepping in as you turn to him and walk backward. “I’m holding this over you for, like, ever.”

“I swear to God—”

You turn around again, ignoring him in favor of his room. There’s the low, warm wash of a lamp he’d left on earlier in the corner of the room at his desk, and it makes the shadows stretch dark and long. Old movie and band posters are plastered on the walls, tacked with surprisingly deliberate care. His desk is in the right corner of the room, his bed tucked into the left corner, and a window in between them with a short shelf of random notebooks and knick-knacks beneath it. There’s a dresser on the right wall next to his desk, and his closet is to the left past the foot of bed, while there’s a closed door on the other side of the entrance.

“Hey, this isn’t bad,” you apprise, and Sukuna watches as you venture in further, eyes dropping to the open back of your top, the way your skirt hugs your ass and practically nothing else. He shuts the door behind him and locks it, silently crossing the space in a few steps as he reaches for you. “No wonder that threesome wante—mmph!”

Sukuna grabs you by the back of your neck, palm firm and wide as he spins you around and crashes his lips into yours. It pulls a sharp gasp out of you, one he swallows as he presses his lips against yours with a bruising force, tongue licking deep and dirty into the crevice of your mouth. You try to keep up with him, but it’s nearly impossible as he keeps your head tilted at the angle he wants, keeping you from fighting with him on it. You stumble with the force of him pushing against you, and he slams you against the wall with a harsh thud, your spine stinging as the hit knocks the breath out of you.

Your lungs burn again, and you press at his chest, but he doesn’t give, just keeps kissing you, sliding spit-slick lips against yours and you're powerless to do anything but respond, having to rely on him to keep yourself upright as you meet his kisses with your own messy ones. When he finally pulls away, you gasp for breath, vision swimming, head thick with lust and falling back on the wall. He doesn’t give you time to find your breath, pressing kisses back down your jaw, harsher this time, teeth testing the fragility of the skin there. 

Your breath stutters, fingers coming up to tug at his hair while your other hand squeezes his shoulder, nails digging into flesh. Sukuna drops his hand from your neck to skim his palm over your ass and then up the curve of your back, hot and heavy as it slips beneath your top, tracing up the line of your spine and leaving a burning trail in its wake. His legs part yours, the thick muscle of his thigh bunching as he flexes it, other hand on your hip to pull you down. The thin material of your lace thong does nothing to keep you from feeling the rough friction of his jeans against your core, and you jolt, pleasure sparking below your navel.

“Fuck—ngh,” you whimper, not being able to keep it in as you grind down, heat flooding your panties and light flashing behind your closed eyes.

Your hips buck, searching for more, but his hand on your hip forces you to stay still, controlling the slow roll of you against his leg. His teeth nip at your neck, where your pulse kicks in your throat, and you feel him bite down when you try to override his grip on you, trying to move your hips on your own. Instead, he goes infuriatingly slower, as if punishing you.

“Sukuna,” you whine, nails digging deeper into his shoulder with frustration. He doesn’t let up, just pulls your hips in torturously sluggish pace over his leg as his other hand slips to the front to cup your boob. “Want—ah!”

He gives a firm squeeze, kneading the flesh in his palm with a hard pressure that has your nerves buzzing. His fingers find the pebbled nipple through your top, almost painfully hard, and tug at it, the cloth brushing against the sensitive skin. You barely swallow the moan threatening to breach, but then he twists it, harsh and sudden, and you can’t help but cry out, skin smarting with a dizzying thrill.

His hand travels back up, ghosting the heated skin of your fast-rising chest and over the dip of your collarbone and up the delicate column of your throat to grab your chin, thumb and forefingers gently pressing into your cheeks again. At first, you barely notice, more focused on trying to squirm out of his hold so that you can shift yourself on his thigh, only to find yourself no match for his strength. Then, however, he taps your cheek, and your eyes flicker open to find him looking at you, hooded gaze nearly unrecognizable with how dark it's gone.

“Eyes open, baby,” he murmurs, and you blink, then groan, trying to move your hips again but not being able to escape his hold.

“Sukuna,” you snap, ignoring the way his fingers press tighter at your tone. “Would you just fucki—”

You’re cut off by the painful force of his thumb and forefinger against your cheeks, tightening around your jaw all of a sudden before loosening enough to have you pouting up at him.

“Behave,” he warns, but you can’t help the way your face scrunches up with irritation when the hand on your hip completely stops, keeping you pinned in place on his thigh. Something glints in his eyes, and you fight through a frustrated sigh before you realize it’s humor.

“What?” you ask, nose wrinkled and a little petulant because you’re not finding anything funny right now, especially with the way he’s refused to let you move.

He grins and leans in closer, lips teasing yours with a gentle brush while his hand on your jaw keeps you from tilting your head up to kiss him fully.

“Anyone ever say y’look kinda like a bunny?”

You blink, convinced you heard him wrong, and blink again, but he just watches you with that sick, amused smile folding itself into his smirk.

“What?”

“Y’look like a bunny,” he repeats, leaning in to indulge in a too-short kiss before pulling back a bit again, making you bite back an annoyed groan. “Screw your face up all cute like one.”

“I do not—”

“You do,” he says against your mouth, and then kisses you again, harder this time, nose bumping against yours, and you try to chase him before he’s shifting back. “Got an attitude like one, too.”

You’ve genuinely no clue what he’s talking about right now, but you do know that you’d like him to talk less and try to fuck you more. Still, if there’s one thing about you, it’s that you’ll always bite.

“Who died and made you the expert on bunnies?” you snark, rolling your eyes, and your hands go to tug at his grip. 

Surprisingly, it loosens, and you falsely believe this is your chance, but then he thumbs at your bottom lip and jerks his leg up, stealing a surprised gasp as it hits your core just a little to the side from where you need it. Pleasure builds in you, but then dissipates faster than it came, leaving frustration swirling alone in your belly. He uses the opening to slip his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue as he grabs your chin again, jerking your head a little.

“They can also be fucking brats,” he mutters, as if lost in thought, when your teeth instinctively close on his finger, and his eyes narrow as he presses down harder, trapping your tongue with the calloused pad of his thumb. 

You don’t loosen your bite, harsh enough to leave indents, you’re sure, but not enough to break skin or draw blood. Not yet, anyway. He leans in, mouth brushing against your cheekbone before going to your ear, and his hand tightens to a promise of bruises on your hip. Then, before he says anything, he guides your hips in a slow, purposeful roll that has your clit catching on the perfect press of his jeans, a knot tightening in your gut at the added delight and you let out a soft sigh, lashes fluttering.

“C’mon, bunny,” he whispers, voice pitched low. “Behave.”

There’s a second of hesitation, and then your teeth lift. If that’s what he’s promising, then you can do without having him lose a finger.

“Good girl.” The praise slips down your spine like oil, going straight to your clothed cunt, pulsing with need.

He does it again, guiding your hips at the exact angle you need it, and you squirm in his hold at the way it twists into something deep in your core. The muscle of his thigh flexes beneath you as you let out a breathy little moan, and he tucks his head into the crook of your neck, mapping the expanse of it with wet kisses and sharp canines dragging across the skin. His thumb presses further into your mouth as it falls lax, and you cry out around it when he finally allows you to buck your hips in a desperate rut against the texture of his jeans.

“There you go,” he mutters darkly, eyes peering up at your face. “S’good when you fucking behave, isn’t it, bunny?”

You can’t respond with your tongue pinned by his thumb, only whimper as you roll your hips faster.

The pleasure builds in you, sharp and thrumming behind your navel, but it lingers somewhere out of your reach, and you urge him to quicken the pace, desperate for something more. His hand retreats from your jaw, thumb smearing spit down your chin as he kisses you again. Your arms fall over his neck and shoulders again, hands tangling in the messy pink locks. 

Then, without warning, both of his hands fall to your hips and hoist you up. Your legs wrap around him by instinct, and your whine at the loss of pressure against your cunt is muffled by the hot press of the kiss. 

He moves away from the wall, and your arms scramble around the width of his shoulders and neck, keeping yourself anchored to his chest as you continue to kiss him and he carries you to the bed. You’re suspended in the air for a couple of seconds before Sukuna lowers you onto the mattress, deceptively gentle in the wake of the bruises he’s sure to have left on your skin. The soft cushion of his comforter meets your back, and your legs fall to the bed while your arms drop from his neck down to the hem of his shirt.

You can feel the toned muscle as he pushes you onto the bed, and you want more. You tug on the hem and he separates from you to reach back and yank on the collar of his shirt. The scene of you has your mouth going dry and your panties wet, his triceps swelling as he pulls his tee up off his head in a swift move to reveal the large expanse of his chest and the carved muscle of his abs, glistening with sweat in the low light.

You drag your hand up his torso, feeling his abs contract under your teasing touch as your nails scrape over the ripples of his chest. He leans down to kiss you, knee braced between your legs as his hands smooth down each thigh down to your calves. You’re barely aware of the way he fiddles with the straps of your wedges, only hearing the thud of them fall to the carpet when he lifts his head up again.

“Word,” he murmurs, still leaning over you as you blink up at him.

“What?”

You’re a different kind of pretty when you’re staring up at him with those big eyes and blank stare, skin flushed, hair pooling on his sheets, chest pushing against his bare skin with each labored breath. It takes a great deal of strength not to lower himself again and kiss you, have you gasp into his mouth in that way he was quickly finding drove him insane.

“Safe word,” Sukuna explains, and then leans down just enough to tease you. “Y’know what that is, right?”

“I know what it is,” you grumble, lashes fluttering and head tilting up subconsciously. “S’just… I don’t know.”

He arches a brow, his quiet little smile mocking you as he his breath breaks against your lips. “Don’t know what, bunny? Just gotta think of a word.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to try to ground yourself, but it doesn’t work. “I don’t know,” you repeat, annoyance edging your tone as you open your eyes again. You reach up to pull him down, but he resists. “Can’t think.”

His smile widens, pride dancing in his eyes. “Can’t think?” he murmurs, hand slipping into your hair and tangling in the locks again to keep you in place. “What? Did I fuck you stupid without even touching you yet?”

The words sober you up a little, not enough to break through your desire but enough to have you glare up at him. Instead of responding, you hook your fingers around the dangling silver chain around his neck and pull hard enough to surprise him, lips coming down to meet yours again. His hands find themselves on your torso, hot enough to steal the breath from your lungs as they slide up the plane of your ribs to burrow beneath the flimsy material of your top. You lift yourself up on your elbows and let him drag the top up and over your head, breaking the kiss. 

“You think of one, then,” you challenge before retreating, watching him flounder for a word with a smirk of your own, his brows furrowed in thought.

There’s a brief wave of insecurity that washes over you when his eyes drop to your naked upper half, nipples hardening in the cool air and chest rising with each breath. It’s quickly doused over, however, with a dark thrill that slips down your spine when his palm skates up to your boobs, cupping the heavy flesh and his eyes flicker with simmering lust. 

“Well?” you ask expectantly, breathier than you’d like it, and his eyes lift to yours to find a smug expression at his silence.

He glowers and leans down to kiss you so hard that it almost hurts, wiping the grin from your face and pushing you back into the bed. The calloused skin of his hand is rough against your skin, more so as he squeezes your boob, the other one this time, and his fingers find the bare nipple, twisting. You moan into his mouth, leg hiking up to his hip, as his other hand slips down to your thigh, and then up the last bit of decency your skirt was keeping.

“We’re using colors,” Sukuna says, breaking away again. “Y’know those?”

You hum, trying to tug him back down. “Red, green, yellow,” you answer quickly, and he allows you to kiss him again, and again, and again.

His fingers creep up to the crease of your thigh, finding the delicate lace of your thong hugging your hips there. He twists the material, pulling it tight, and you shudder.

“Color?”

“Green,” you gasp out as he lets it snap back against your skin, melting into the sheets when his thumb finds your clothed clit, electricity jolting through you.

He draws small circles over the ruined fabric, watching as your expression shutters into one of pure pleasure. He goes slow, just like earlier when you had you up against the wall, and your hips buck with need as his other hand continues groping at your chest.

“So fucking wet, bunny,” he mutters into the skin of your jaw. “What’re we gonna do about this, hm?”

“Sukuna,” you whine as he moves your panties to the side and slides a deft finger through your drenched folds.

His smiles, nipping at your jaw as his finger gathers the wetness there, and then teases your entrance, the thick width of it prodding with barely-held restraint. And then, without warning, he pushes in a singular finger, all the way up to his knuckle, and your head falls back onto the sheets with a gasp. He goes slow again, letting you adjust, as he pumps it in and out before adding a second one, and the stretch stings for just a moment before he’s pushing on that spongy spot inside and making you whimper.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as his head travels lower, nosing at your neck and biting at your collarbone before taking your perky nipple into his mouth, already a little sore from earlier. His tongue laves over the skin, hot and heavy, as his fingers continue to press into you and his thumb lands on your clit just as his teeth clamp down on your nipple, making you cry out. He moves to your other boob, doing the same thing while making you moan out into the air before his mouth travels further down.

“Pretty fucking girl,” he mutters into the skin below your belly button, and something in your stomach flutters as his lips land on the sensitive skin there before it twists into the deep pleasure thrumming within you. “Pretty fuckin’ tits. Pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

The knot behind your navel tightens, pulling taut at the words and the constant pressure of his fingers inside you and the wash of warm breath that lands on your exposed folds. You can’t help the way you tighten at that, growing wetter by the second, so much so that his fingers have started making wet, squelching sounds as they scissor you open. He’s far down enough that you can’t reach his shoulders anymore, but your fingers go to his hair, both hands running through the already mussed locks.

Before you can even say anything, there’s the thick, hot press of his tongue against your clit, and you let out half a moan before one hand flies up to cover your mouth, suddenly all too aware of your volume. The music from two floors down still echoes up here, but you doubt it’s loud enough to mask all your sounds, especially if there was someone in the room over.

“Fuck no,” Sukuna snaps immediately, and his large hand wraps around your arm before pulling it down and pinning it onto the sheets by your wrist.

“Wait,” you whimper, but Sukuna doesn’t pay attention, licking a stripe up your folds, tongue pressing onto your clit at the end again. “Your roommates—mmm—”

“I don’t give a shit,” he says, and then groans into your pussy, the vibrations making you jolt. “Fuck, you taste good.”

“They’re gonna—” you’re interrupted by your own low whine when you feel a third finger prod at your entrance, preparing to enter. “They’re gonna hea—haah!”

His third finger enters all of a sudden, cutting off your protest as the stretch burns before melding back into pleasure as he continues his pace, driving his fingers in and out of you. His mouth fully descends on your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you have no chance against the moan that tumbles out of your mouth as your eyes screw shut.

“Fuck them,” he mutters, coming up for a breath and watching your chest heave, covered in a fine sweat already. His fingers go still inside you, and the other hand leaves yours to come down to your thigh, pinching the skin on the inner side. “Eyes on me, bunny. I’m about to make you cum for the first time, wanna watch and hear you fall apart for me.”

You gasp at the sting, lashes fluttering open before you raise yourself up on your elbows. You look down to see Sukuna looking up at you, dark eyes glittering in the low light with a wicked grin on his face.

“Good girl,” he praises, and the pleasure that warms over you only intensifies. “You look away, and I stop. Understand?”

You nod, but his fingers tighten on your thigh again, and you rush to do what he wants before he pinches you again. The command is silent, but loud in your head.

Use your words.

“Yes,” you rasp out, your voice pitchy and gaze never straying from his. “Yes, okay, I understand.”

You barely get the words out of your mouth before he’s dipping his head down between your thighs again and foregoes all teasing. Instead, he’s got his mouth on your clit again, fingers driving up into you at a mad pace as they press down right where you need them, and waves of pleasure wash over you. You writhe in his hold, thighs automatically trying to close at the sudden intensity, but he uses his unoccupied hand to keep one leg pinned to the mattress.

You’re still propped up on your elbows, eyes hooded and gaze unfocused as you whimper and moan, not being able to keep your head from tipping back as his fingers quicken and your walls flutter around him, tightening with need.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Fuck, I’m close—ngh—”

He doesn’t break away, and the knot in your stomach grows tighter, threatening to break as the waves wash over you higher and higher. His tongue is relentless, bullying at your clit without mercy, and you gasp as you feel yourself right on the edge of it. 

It’s when his teeth land, nipping at your clit and making it hurt as much as it feels good, that you come, a white wash of pleasure surging over your head and making your face contort with a silent moan. The orgasm ebbs, sparking in your nerves, but he doesn’t stop through it all, keeping the same pace and intensity as you slowly come down from your high.

Then, suddenly, the pleasure grows into too much, and you realize Sukuna isn’t showing any signs of moving away. It turns sharp in your stomach, cramping with overstimulation, and you try to scramble back from him.

“Sukuna—wait,” you whimper, and then yelp when he gently clamps his teeth down again. “Hold on!”

He doesn’t let go, the hand on your thigh going up to lay heavy across your stomach and keep you in place. You’re unable to keep yourself up anymore, falling back on the bed as your hands scramble to his hair, unsure if you’re trying to tug him away or keep him there. 

“Wait, Sukuna, I can’t,” you whine, toes curling as you kick your feet. “S’too much, too much—”

You manage to free yourself for a second, but then he pulls his fingers out of you in a sudden move, making you gasp, and grabs your hips, pulling you back down with a growl. His mouth goes back to your cunt, tongue invading without warning, and you squirm violently, hips bucking up.

You cry out as he pins you down and eats you out without giving you time to breathe, and the pain slowly bleeds back into pleasure as the same knot in your stomach tightens. You can’t help but melt back into the sheets, thighs trembling by his head as your fingers tighten in his hair. Pleasure thrums in you again, this time sharper and faster, making your core twist with anticipation.

Then, just as you begin to catch that edge again, he shifts up and away, and you whimper as you tilt your head down to take him in. His chin glistens in the warm lighting as he kisses his way back up your body, and your hands slip from his hair to his back, feeling the muscles ripple underneath the skin as he comes up to meet you with a filthy kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, the salt of you staining his lips as they turn hopelessly messy with desperation and desire.

His hands are braced on either side of your head as one knee comes up to harshly press down on your pussy, and the rough fabric of his jeans startles you, making you jerk with a whine.

“What is it, baby?” he asks in a teasing tone in-between hard kisses that make it impossible to focus on what he’s saying. “C’mon, use your words.”

You can only shake your head, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure sparks behind them, but not strong enough for you to grab. One of his hands comes down to wrap around your throat, the subtle pressure making you dizzy.

“I don’t—ngh,” you whimper as he shoves his leg up higher, and then lets it slip to the wrong side. He’s toying with you, and you know it, but you’re so lost in the frenzied desire fogging your mind, you can’t bite back. “Fuck—haah—Sukuna!”

“Can’t give you what you want if you don’t say it,” he tuts against your cheek, and your hands scramble to the front, slipping down to his belt. “Look at me.”

Sukuna’s fingers squeeze at the sides of your neck in a thinly veiled warning, and you force yourself to peel your eyes open to look at him. He’s panting just as hard as you, but his eyes gleam as he’s clearly enjoying the way he’s got you on the hook.

“There she is,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours in a barely-there kiss, and you fight to keep your eyes open. 

You groan, trying to buck your hips again, but his leg isn’t at the right angle anymore.

He hums, a rumble in his chest that you can feel reverberate through you. “Wanna hear you say it,” he tells you. “Won’t do shit until you tell me what you need, baby.”

“I don’t know,” you huff, squirming in his hold again, but his grip keeps you stuck in place. “Need—fuck—need more.”

“S’not enough.” Sukuna clicks his tongue, pulling away and keeping you pinned against the mattress with his hand on your throat when you try to come closer. “Gotta be more specific, bunny. Had such a fucking mouth on you earlier, didn’t you? Use it.”

Something sharpens in you, and Sukuna must see it in your face because his gaze narrows as he glares down at you, hand around your throat flexing, a threat this time. A silent tension hangs in the air for a couple of seconds as frustration surges in you, both at him and your lost pleasure.

“Why?” you ask, breathless but still sharp. “Don’t know how to fuck a girl unless she tells yo—”

You’re interrupted when his hand tightens around your throat, hard, cutting off your air, and one of your hands flies to his wrist, nails digging into the inked flesh there.

“Careful,” Sukuna growls, voice deliciously deep, eyes glittering dangerously. “What’d I tell ya, hm? Behave.” His nose bumps against yours, lips hovering over yours as he loosens his hold enough to make room for you to gasp. “I’ve got all night and this pretty little throat in the palm of my hand. I’d play real nice if I were you right now, bunny.”

You can only take in pathetic, little breaths as his hand stays pressed up against your throat. The control makes your head all fuzzy, and the searing weight of him pinning you doesn’t help nor does the buzz of your recent orgasm humming in your veins. It’s his eyes that keep yours open, fully blown and daring you to look away, to defy him.

“You,” you mumble as an answer, but then his fingers begin to tighten again, and you force yourself to say it out loud, cheeks burning. “Your cock. Please.”

Sukuna’s expression shifts, darkens, and his jaw tenses as his tattoos shape the contours of his face. He ducks down and kisses you, teeth clashing and tongues in a messy battle, and you’re drowning in the haze of him again, unable to breathe when he’s stealing kisses like that, yet unable to pull away.

The hand on your throat comes down to pull your skirt and thong, and you lift your hips to help him tug them down your thighs. You kick off the material as soon as you can, leaving you completely bare, and then your fingers fumble with the leather before it gives and you make quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans. He groans into your mouth, shoving you further into the sheets when you cup him through his boxers, toying with him through the fabric.

He doesn’t stop kissing you as you slip your hand into the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, and then down further to pull the nearly intimidating thick length of him out, stroking it a couple of times as you twist your palm. Sukuna drops his head into the crook of your neck again, panting hard against your skin as the mass of him nearly crushes you.

He’s, with the risk of being blunt, huge. You look down to see the ruddy head of his cock, flushed and dripping with pearlescent pre-cum that you swipe with your thumb and bring down the long length of him. You can’t wrap your fingers fully around him, either, and your pulse races at the weight of his hardened cock in your palm.

He groans into your shoulder, the sound traveling through you, when you let your nails gently settle against the veins that run up his length, dragging across the sensitive skin when you give him another pump, this one slower but your grip harder as you press down on the underside.

Condoms,” you remind him, and watch as he huffs in annoyance but reaches over you to the drawer on his nightstand, pulling it open sharply and digging through before finding the little foil sachet. 

You take it from him and rip the packet open with your teeth, completely aware of the way he watches you while you do it as you take the condom out and begin to the roll the latex down his length, pausing every couple of seconds to toy with his patience.

“Stop teasing,” Sukuna warns, nipping at the already-sore skin of your neck, but you only hum in response, continuing to roll it down and then pump him slowly.

You feel bolder than before, and you bring your other hand up to cup his cheek as you tilt your head to bring your mouth near his ear.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, smirking when his hips thrust just an inch up into your hand. You can feel his jaw clenching underneath your other hand, and you keep at it. “Want you inside me, Sukuna.” You give him another stroke, faster this time. “Wonder if you’ll fit.”

He lifts his head up, and one hand comes to push your wrist into the bed next to your head while the other one stays braced on the mattress. His expression makes your stomach flip, nerves tingling, as he looks down at you with eyes so dark you can’t look away.

“Color?” His voice is barely a rasp, the carnal hunger that plagues ‌both of you thick and heavy in his tone. It catches you off-guard for a moment before you realize what he’s asking you.

“Green.” You’re breathless, looking up at him with large and hazy eyes.

“Good,” he says, and then down in a little closer. “You’ll make it fit, won’t you, bunny?”

Your gaze drops to his lips, shiny in the warm lighting, and you can only hum in response.

“C’mon, baby,” he mutters against your lips. “Put it in for me.”

You swallow, suddenly unsure of what you’re doing in the face of his confidence, but you obey anyway. You twist your hand around his length again and slowly guide him to the apex of you, breath catching a little when the hot head of him nudges against your clit.

You guide him lower, your heart thudding against your rib cage, and then let out a low, little whine when it notches against your entrance. It’s only then that you realize the size of him compared to you, when the pressure of him is lined up against you.

Fuck, is it even going to fit?

Before you can voice your concerns, he gives a barely there thrust of his hips, and the tip of him pushes in, stretching your entrance in the most gloriously painful way possible. You gasp and your hand flies up to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“So fuckin’ sensitive,” he says against your ear, and he gives another shallow thrust and the tip of him bullies its way in, nestled against your walls now as your nails dig into the muscled flesh.

“Wait,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. “Wait, I don’t think it’s gonna—”

“It will,” he says, and then slides in another inch, making you whine. 

Your hand comes down on instinct, pushing at his chiseled torso to get him to stop for a second, but it doesn’t deter him as he eases in another inch, impatient and clearly trying hard to restrain himself.

Your reaction is immediate; you’re more than wet enough for that third thrust to work smoothly, but it has you arching your back with a whimpery little moan, walls fluttering wildly around the thick pressure of him. Sukuna slips his arm around your waist and keeps you in place, already familiar with the way you squirm when it gets too much.

“Fuck,” he grunts, rocking his hips a little as you clench around him. “Shit—so fucking tight, bunny.”

“I can’t—”

“You can,” he cuts you off, and then rocks his hips in a wide circle that has your legs turning into jelly. “Gotta relax f’me, bunny, gotta let me in.”

“I am relaxed,” you huff, but even when you say it, you know it’s a lie as you have to force yourself to go a little more lax.

Without warning, Sukuna gives a hard thrust, the rest of him sliding in and going deeper than anything you’ve ever taken before. You cry out, hips bucking, as he bottoms you out, and you swear you feel the tip of him touch your cervix as a pang of sharp pain shoots through you, and then a wave of pleasure washes over the cut of it.

You’re eyes are squeezed shut and it feels like he’s just punched the breath out of you, the consuming pressure of him making your head go all fuzzy and it feels like too much and just enough all at the same time. Sukuna’s mouth is buzzing at your jaw as he rolls his hips, causing bright sparks to dance in your veins, and then his steady breath rolls over the shell of your ear.

“Eyes open,” he reminds you, and then gives a sharp, sudden nudge that has you gasping for air as your lashes flutter open in shock when he knocks against your cervix. “C’mon, bunny. If you’re gonna act like a brat, then I’m gonna fuck you like a brat.”

“I’m not—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Sukuna pulls out almost all the way, his large tip coming back far enough to stretch your entrance again before he slams into you, harder than before, and cutting you off.

“Ah—haah—Sukuna!”

He doesn’t give you time to adjust to either his pace or the width of him or how deep he sinks into you, just takes it and goes the way he likes it, which is something you should’ve known from the beginning. Honestly, it’s something you think you already knew, because this only results in you getting wetter.

“You are,” Sukuna grunts, teeth biting into the most sensitive parts of your neck and shoulder. “Don’t worry, baby, ‘cause I’m gonna fuck you ‘til your all sweet and dumb for me—”

Thrust.

“—and then you’re gonna be a good girl and thank me—”

Thrust.

“—and then maybe I’ll be nice and fuck you all over again.”

He picks up the pace just a little, thrusting into you with deep strokes that have you feeling every drag of his cock against your walls. The width of him burns, the way his tip slams into your cervix stings, the friction of his jeans and cold metal of his belt against your thighs hurts, but all the pain slowly begins to bleed into pleasure as it all ignites something hot and twisting inside of you.

“How’s that sound, bunny?” he asks, and you attempt to answer.

“Sukuna—s-shit—wait—hngh—oh fuck!” 

You can barely get the words out as they all melt into moans and whines and whimpers that join the cacophony of skin slapping against skin and the embarrassingly wet squelch of his cock sliding through the gathering wetness of your pussy.

“C’mon, baby,” he urges. “Gimme an answer. Or was all that—mmph—attitude just for show?”

“F-fuck—haah—fuck you,” you gasp out, and you open your eyes just enough to see that devilish grin grow wide on his face before he picks up the pace, this time much faster.

The new speed has his hips snapping forward to slam against you, and it steals the breath out of your lungs. It’s brutally hard and fast and has you squirming, fingers tangling in the sheets as you tighten them into fists. That knot behind your navel begins to tighten again, hurtling you toward the edge that you’d been denied a couple of minutes ago. Your mouth falls open in a silent whine, unable to move away from the sheer intensity of him, and he kisses his way up past your cheek to your mouth, messy with tongue and spit and teeth.

“What was—fuck—that? Hm?” he grunts, and you can’t answer, can barely hear him over the overwhelming press of him above you and the sounds of sex that nearly deafen you. He seems to find your amusement in this as he snorts. “Go on, bunny, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

One hand, the one not keeping himself braced above you, slides up your torso and grabs your boob, giving it an unforgiving squeeze. It sends lightning shooting to your core, and you feel yourself approaching the cliff's end faster and faster.

“Fuck you feel good,” he says against your lips. “Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. You gonna milk me dry? Gonne come all over my cock, baby?”

You nod desperately, arching your back and gasping when he slaps your thigh hard enough to make the skin sting.

“Asked you a fucking question, bunny,” he reminds you, and then, because he’s cruel and you’ve apparently got a thing for masochists, drives into you at a new angle, keeping your hips lifted off the bed. 

It has him hitting a spot that makes stars dance in your vision, has you writhing in the sheets with a loud whine. You can feel the arrogant curve of his grin against your cheek, and the proud puff of his chest as he uses both hands on your torso to keep you hovering in place while he fucks you.

“Fuck, Sukuna!” you cry out when he hits it again, the tender spot making your blood run hot.

“Right there, bunny?” he teases, and then kisses you hard, teeth playing with your bottom lip. “That’s the—shit—spot, huh?”

Your hands go to his shoulders again, nails making imprints on the flesh without care, as you try to push at him, the feeling suddenly too much. “Hng—Wait! Sukuna—ahhh—hold on—”

Sukuna does neither, and instead continues to thrust into you hard and deep enough to abuse that sweet spot inside of you, hitting his mark with his snap of his hips. He’s relentless, grunting above you as he pushes you to that edge, where you dangle for a breathless moment before the band in your stomach snaps.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” 

You come hard around him, white-hot pleasure consuming your body as blood roars in your ears and fire floods your veins, traveling from your core to your limbs. The world around you becomes a distant hum in the face of such as intense orgasm, but Sukuna doesn’t stop, fucking you through it as your walls clench unbelievably tight around him, velvet-soft and sopping wet. Your high triggers his, and his thrusts become more desperate, sloppy, as he buries a groan into the crook of your neck and comes with a few rough pumps.

He stays there for a second, breathing so hard that his chest presses down against yours with every exhale. After a couple of seconds, while you’re still in this haze of warmth, he lifts his head and pulls out, making you whine at both the stretch of him and the loss of it. You have to fight a little ground yourself, pressing your lips together and trying to think past the buzz of your orgasm. You only look up at him when you hear a crinkle above, and then the smooth tear of foil.

Sukuna is rolling another condom down his cock, not nearly as slow or gentle as you’d been, and before you can find the words to ask, he’s flipping you around and manhandling you onto your arms and knees.

“Sukuna, wha—”

Smack!

You yelp when his hand comes down on your ass, slapping the flesh with a heavy palm and making the skin smart with a tight burn that runs straight down your spine and sparks into something hot in your core. He does it again, and you barely conceal the low moan that threatens to spill. One of his arms stays wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place, when you feel him lean down, abs and sculpted chest pressing against your back as his mouth comes to your ear.

“Color.”

You don’t answer at first, you can’t with how sudden the change is, but then he spanks you again and you’re startled into a response.

“G-green,” you gasp out, lurching forward a little with the momentum but rebounding because Sukuna was right when he said everyone likes a little pain now and then.

“You sure, bunny?” he warns, deceptively soft lips brushing against your heated skin. “‘Cause once I start, I’m not stopping ‘til I’m done.”

You shiver beneath him, arms holding you up with barely enough strength. You can feel his hard length pressed up against your ass at this angle, and, somehow, you feel yourself grow a little wetter despite the way your last orgasm still lingers in your nerves, making you more sensitive.

You nod, but then there’s another sharp blow, and you can’t keep back the cry that ends in a little moan.

“Last time I’m gonna warn ya, baby,” Sukuna growls. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you whimper, “y-yeah. I’m—it’s green.”

Sukuna doesn’t even give you time to think before he’s shifting his weight back to push deep inside you again, not giving you the chance to adjust before he’s all the way in. His hands go to your hips, long and thick fingers spanning almost the entirety of your waist as he groans when he’s sheathed all the way in. The new angle has your arms trembling when the rush of pleasure hits you again.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts out, pulling back and slamming in again, and your walls flutter around him, a little sore from the overstimulation but the heat in your core burns hotter than ever. “Dripping all over my sheets like a fuckin’ slut.”

He doesn’t bother with getting you readjusted to the pace, just gives you brutal, almost punishing thrusts that have you moaning every time he bottoms out at the end. 

“Ahh—fuck, Sukuna! Hng—haaah—”

You don’t have much control over yourself, either, because he uses the unforgiving grip he has on the fat of your hips to bring you back into him with every thrust, his hips slamming into your ass with each shove. Sukuna reaches a different sort of depth with this position, and you can feel the weight of his cock against your walls as he continues at mind-numbing speed.

“C’mon, bunny—ah fuck—”

The moans that tumble past your bitten lips are near pornographic, and they only make him grunt and drive into you harder, determined to get more out of you. You’re so fucking tight around him, Sukuna swears you’re trying to milk him dry, like he hadn’t already had his cock inside you and stretched you out with three of his fingers. The velvet hot press of you has him losing all rationality as he chases the hot pleasure twisting deep within his gut.

It matches what’s swirling in your belly right now, sparks dancing in your veins as the thick pressure of him never lets up. Heat thrums a steady beat within you, and each thrust has you whimpering beneath him and growing weaker.

One of his hands slips from your hips up your chest and to your throat right as your arms falter, shaking harder now with how fast he’s going. His fingers wrap around the column of your neck, and you feel the press of his palm against the center before he’s pulling you up in a violent motion, his grip tightening so hard that you can’t breathe for a second. He’s now got you on your knees with your back flush against the toned muscle of his chest, one hand wrapped around your waist for support and the other still choking you while he fucks up into you with sharp, brutal thrusts.

His grip on your throat slackens just enough to let you gasp as your fingers scramble at his wrist.

“Fuck, Sukuna!” you cry out, the new angle sending him somehow deeper within you, making you feel sore and so inexplicably good at the same time.

He chuckles behind you, albeit still panting, and his voice is in your ear. “That’s all you got, bunny? I’m—haah—fucking you so good all you can say is my name?”

“No—ngh—”

“No?” he teases, and you can barely hear him over the pleasure that buzzes in your ears, tightening and twisting deep within you as you begin to lose yourself to the feeling again. “C’mon, then, tell me how good I’m fucking you.”

“So good—ah s-shit—s’full,” you gasp out. “I can’t—haah ahh—”

“Yeah, baby?” he urges, breath hot as it breaks against the bruised skin of your neck. His hand around your waist comes to grab one of your hands and brings it down to your torso, pressing it into the soft skin of your stomach. “Feel that, bunny?”

You don’t at first, but then he pushes into you so hard that it hurts for a blinding second before the pleasure doubles and you feel the bump of him beneath your skin. When he withdraws, you feel that too, and on his next thrust, you can feel him burrow into you, hot and flush against your palm. You whimper, melting back into him, and your head tips back onto his shoulder.

“S’me fucking you so good, you can feel it from the outside,” Sukuna groans into your ear, and your body shudders with the effect, that heat in you growing and taking over your senses. “You’re gonna cum for me and you’re gonna feel me fuck you through it.”

You’re already shaking your head, gasping with a moan at the feeling of your orgasm nearing. It feels like too much, like a wave you won’t be able to come up from, something that will overtake you and pull you under without mercy, but Sukuna also offers no mercy.

“Wait, Sukuna—mmph—”

He cuts you off with a messy kiss, hand on your throat forcing your head to the side as your teeth clash and his tongue invades and claims your mouth. He drinks that sweet little moan, the whine that breaks from your throat, and kisses you so hard your lips start to go numb.

“What’d I say about being a fuckin’ brat, hm?” he growls when he pulls away, and then drives into you with a relentless fury, his other hand still keeping your palm flat against your stomach to feel it all. The pressure from outside makes you dizzy as he bites at the shell of your ear. “Told you I’m not stoppin’ until I’m done, and I meant it, bunny.”

Sukuna seems to be close to as well as he ruts up into you, hips losing their rhythm but never their roughness, and the uneven thrusts are what start to beckon the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm. The heat of your core makes you flush, blood searing hot in your veins as you feel that familiar twist behind your navel tighten to the point of no return.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper, arching against him, but there’s no escaping his hold. “Fuck, Sukuna, m’gonna cum, gonna—haah ngh—”

“Yeah?” he mutters darkly, thrusting up into you with a frenzy you can’t keep up with you. “C’mon, bunny, cum for me. Want you to cum—fuck—all over my cock, can feel you fucking—ahh—squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—fuck!”

He turns your head to kiss you again, keeping you in place with one hand on your throat and the other pressed on your stomach, over the bulge of his cock inside of you, and you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, your eyes squeezing shut as your vision blanks and you’re left gasping against his lips in the face of an orgasm that fills your nerves with a shattering thrill. Your walls clench around him, milking him as he continues to fuck you, and your stomach cramps with the intensity of your orgasm, your limbs thrashing and trembling in the aftermath. It seems to go on forever, and Sukuna doesn’t stop to let you breathe, keeps kissing you as he chases his own high and comes with a low, raspy moan as he buries himself so deep inside you that you can feel him against your cervix again.

“Fuck,” he groans against your mouth, hips stuttering as the orgasm runs up his spine and spreads heat over his nerves as he spills into the condom. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You whimper as he pulls out, and his hands leaves you, gently enough to lower you back onto the bed, and you hold yourself up on your arms for a second before the effort is too much and you have to brace yourself on your elbows. You’re panting hard, skin slick with sweat and head all dizzy and the blood in your veins fizzing with heat and pleasure. Your pulse races, and you push yourself forward on the bed, intent on settling onto the sheets and letting the buzz fade away, but then Sukuna’s hands are on your hips again.

He pulls you back with a tight grip, making you yelp, breath catching as he leans down, the muscled weight of him hovering over your back as his cheek presses against your shoulder.

“Where ya running off to, bunny?” he snarls, and you jolt at the still hard press of his cock behind you. He must’ve slipped on another condom without you noticing, and you scramble against the mattress.

“Wait, Sukuna,” you plead, “I can’t. S’too much, I—”

“Don’t fuckin’ care,” he snaps, and then you feel the head of him back at your entrance and you try to move, but he’s everywhere—behind you, on top of you, and, now, about to be inside of you again. “Gonna cum for me again, bunny, whether you wanna or not.”

You cry out as he pushes the thick head of him through, and your walls flutter and clench with pure overstimulation, unsure of whether to take him in deeper or push him out. It doesn’t deter him, he shoves further into you with a grunt, and the wetness of your three previous orgasms allowing him to slide in without resistance.

“Still so fuckin’ tight for me, baby,” he groans out when he bottoms you out with a particularly rough thrust, and he must’ve punched the air out of your lungs because you can’t breathe for a second. “Color?”

It takes you a second to find your voice, but it comes to you with a needy rasp. “Green.”

One of his arms is braced on the pillow above your head and the other one snakes around your waist to play with your clit. You jerk against him, overwhelmed, but you’re reminded of the way he’s like a solid rock pressed up on you, making you arch your ass up and bury your face into the pillows. He stays buried to the hilt inside of you, the fullness of it making everything go hazy again, made worse by your fresh orgasm.

“Sukuna,” you whine into the sheets. “Please—haah—”

“Please what, bunny?” he taunts , long fingers drawing circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves and making your core twist almost painfully with too much pleasure. “Please more? Please don’t stop?”

You open your mouth to answer, though you’re not even certain what you’re about to say, when he pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back into you, sharp and hard, and anything your about to say tumbles out as a moan into the sheets. He doesn’t stop there, rutting into you with a desperate grind of his hips, seemingly almost as gone as you are and needing that next orgasm.

“Ahhh—Sukuna, please, I—hnghh—”

He tuts, voice slightly strained as he keeps you pinned down. “You said it earlier, didn’t you bunny?”

You whimper, confused and unable to concentrate with the way he’s pounding into you without pausing, making you jerk forward and deeper into the sheets with each thrust. You feel the fabric grow wet as your jaw goes slack, drool slipping out the corner of your mouth.

“You said—f-fuck—said you wanted someone who pressed you—haah—into the sheets,” he repeats, and something far away in your mind sparks with recognition of your prior words to him, back when you were teasing him downstairs. “Said—shit—you wanted someone to make you beg for it.”

Sukuna’s half falling apart above you, but his words are as sharp as his thrusts, and he doesn’t let up even as he rambles in your ear. You whine, loud and desperate, beneath him, as he knocks up into you with such a brutal push that the rough drag of it against your already sensitive walls has tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“So I—ah—fuckin’ did.” He continues circling your clit, fingers slipping in your wetness, and the movement is just as rough as the rest of him. “And now—mmf—you’re gonna cry for me while you cum.”

“Haah ahh—Sukuna,” you sigh, and sniff, and then there’s that sharp twisting in your gut, the familiar twinge in your nerves that tells you that you’re close even though the pleasure is all barbed in your core, catching at the most delicate parts of you. “Fuck!”

“Such a good—oh fuck—good girl,” he groans against your skin, tongue hot as he mouths at your jaw, “letting me make a fucking mess of you.”

You moan into the pillows, arching your back and pushing your ass out further to take each of his thrusts as you reach back with one hand, fingers finding purchase in the faded reddish-pink locks.

“Want—hngh—want you to—fuckfuck—cum with me,” you manage to whimper out.

“Nasty fucking girl,” he sneers. “Gonna make me work for it, hm? Fuck—fine then, c’mon, bunny, take it.”

He picks up the pace, renewed by the heat that courses through him at your words, and it makes out moan loudly as the praise and degradation makes your head spin. He reaches a new depth in this position, bruising your cervix with every harsh thrust he ruts into you, and you can’t do anything but take it, whining into the sheets and writhing uselessly beneath him. The pleasure thrums hot and insistent in your gut now, inescapable, and you tug at his hair because you can’t get the words out.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Sukuna chants, lost in the feel of you, the tears and the wetness and the soft moans and desperate whines and the feel of you trapped underneath him. “Cum for me, bunny.”

His orgasm crests, and his fingers are heavy and messy on your clit, unrelenting as draws circles and feels you clamp down, fluttering around him that way you did when you came last time. The orgasm hits you like a train: one minute you’re on your way there and the next it’s crashing into you without warning, ripping a long whine out of you as it singes the blood in your veins and has you collapsing beneath him into the sheets. You tremble in the aftermath of it, but Sukuna doesn’t let up, dragging out both of your orgasms with stuttering hips and sloppy thrusts, and each new drag of his cock against your walls sends bright white-hot sparks down your spine and into the very tips of your fingers.

Eventually, the weight of him settles on you as he tires as well, and you pant into the sheets, still floating with the remnants of the high. He stays there for a long moment before slowly pulling out of you, and making you wince, torn between the relief of having the overwhelming pressure of him out and the empty feeling that has you feeling almost incomplete. Sukuna rolls over, and you turn your head as you lie on your front to watch him land on his back next to you, chest rising and falling rapidly as he recovers from his own high, tattoos glistening with sweat in the lamplight.

The air reeks of sex, humid and heavy as it presses down on both of you, and the sheets are damp beneath you two. The music from the basement has subsided a little, but you’re a little too gone in the haze of your orgasms to decipher what that means right now. You’re spaced out, watching Sukuna throw his arm across his head and over his eyes as you both catch your breaths in tandem.

He comes to a little faster than you do, moving his arm away from his eyes and turns to look at you. You look gone, eyes unfocused but breath slowing down, and he can’t help but smirk as he takes in the curve of your back, the way you’ve nestled into his sheets.

Sukuna flops his hand down on your head, ruffling your hair, and you blink out of your daze. The little scowl and huff you give him is less a true reaction and more instinct because the high that still buzzes in your veins has made you a little slower right now, but you try to shove his arm away from you regardless. It only makes that stupid smirk of his widen into a grin as he shifts to face you, face shadowed by the light behind him and tattoos carving out his sharp features.

“So,” he begins, voice still a little raspy, and you aren’t even fully aware of the way you raise your brow at him, “that was better than your little DJ, right?”

You groan and roll your eyes. The banter helps you ground yourself, and you push at his arm, still on your head, again. You’re honestly no match for his strength regularly, but after four mind-numbing orgasms, your arms are genuinely nothing compared to his.

The little struggle adds to his amusement, and he chuckles as he leverages himself closer to you, eyes glinting red as he watches you. You’re slower than him, and he expected you to pass out or something, but there’s still that spark in your eyes that makes him draw closer, makes him consider pinning you down and fucking you again just to feel that fire singe his skin. 

Plus, you look so damn pretty all fucked out like that. He decides, however, from the lingering tremor in your limbs, to give you a break. A physical one, at the very least.

“I definitely made you cum more than he did.”

𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐎. . .

You aren’t exactly sure whether or not you should be offended or embarrassed that your anticipation had lead you to hope for something more.

Actually, it could be the latter.

The past fifteen minutes was spent scrubbing at his Herculean back; your dainty knuckles already aching and your palms slick with the azukitogi soap. 

He’s yet to ask you to join him in the steaming water.

No. You shake your head, the motion sending a few dampened hair strays against your flushed cheeks, as if doing so can usher such thoughts away. 

The steam coming from the iwaburo is dense, the thin silk clings to your dewy skin. Kneeling on the warm stone, you assist him in reaching places he supposedly could not reach just like how a dutiful wife would help her husband. However, your mind wanders off again — no matter how much the lack of acknowledgement from your husband dismays you. 

Your focused gaze traces the thick, dark markings on his back. They look nearly identical to lightning, you think to yourself. You watch as the tattoos flex and distort over each movement of his broad shoulders. 

“Your hands slowed,” he suddenly comments, turning his head slightly to meet your eyes with his.

You bite your lip for a brief moment and force a smile, “Apologies, my Lord. I just need a minute to recuperate.”

“Hm,” his reply is curt as he turns his head away from you, indifference evident in his tone. “See to it.”

You try to mask your rising frustration, the soft sponge trembling in the palms of your hand. You were given up to the King of Curses for the sake of political power, yes — but, first and foremost before that, you were raised as a noblewoman. How could he treat you as anything lesser — to be treated like a common servant while you, his wife, scrubs at his back undoubtedly is a sting at your pride. 

What makes you feel even worse is the cold realization that you cannot expect anything more from him. He is not a man who speaks poetry; he’s a man who’s more familiar with war and death, rather than the meaning of affection itself.

As you continue to scrub, your movements become more rigid, your heart sinking in disappointment with every swipe of your aching hand. 

“Grab me the dry cloth,” Sukuna orders, and he rises up from the steaming water — the surface of the water breaks with a heavy splash. The white cloth wrapped around his hips dips steadily, the water trailing down the backs of his brawny thighs. He turns around, his tall frame looming over you. You immediately divert your gaze, turning your head before your own eyes dare to betray you. 

You scramble to find the dry linen; your movements hurried and uncoordinated as the persistent, shameful heat nearly engulfs you.

Without uttering another word, you hand him the cloth — your gaze still fixated on anywhere else but him. You keep your arm extended, but Sukuna doesn’t take it immediately. 

Damn him. Making you wait while you’re kneeling, too? 

Finally, a large, calloused hand brushes against yours as he takes the linen. “Do I look that repulsive to you that you can’t even bear to look at me?”

The remark catches you off guard. You snap your head up, your eyes clashing with his. 

“Repulsive, My Lord?” The words tumble out your lips, and you once again look away, your voice dropping to a bashful whisper that betrays your composure. “Far from it.” 

Your words hang in the air longer than you would like. Sukuna’s expression remains unreadable, something that you’re slowly — but surely — growing accustomed to.

“Hah.” A brief chuckle leaves his lips. “Far from it, you say?”

Theres a hint of intrigue laced in his voice, and he squats down to meet your gaze. You swear he can hear how violent your heart is pounding against your ribs.

“Look at me when you say such things,” he commands, though his voice sounds surprisingly gentle.

Your breath catches in your throat. Slowly, you lift your eyes. Water still trails down the ridges of his chiseled chest in slow, agonizing lines. Droplets gather at the edge of his jaw before dripping down his neck. 

“You are far from repulsive, my Lord.” You comply, your gaze locking into his crimson eyes. He studies your face for a brief moment before a curt chuckle reaches his throat, the corner of his lips curling up into a small smirk. 

“Your eyes are hinting at something that your pretty mouth refuses to speak on.” He murmurs before leaning closer, his warm breath hovering mere inches away from your ears. “If you wish for something, wife, you will learn to ask.”

He pulls away, standing up from his squatting position and flings the cloth over his shoulder. Before a single thought can register in your head, he spins his heel and his back then faces you. 

“I’ll get Tsubuki to fetch you a warm bath.” He says casually, his tone indifferent as though he hadn’t just read you like an open book with a few words. 

He passes by your kneeling figure, his heavy footsteps slowly fading away as he leaves you alone in the swirling mist. 

Being flabbergasted is truly an understatement.

By eventide, you’ve only just recovered from sulking in your chambers when Uraume enters.

“My lady,” the ivory-haired attendant greets you, bowing slightly; their composure remains ever so graceful.

“Uraume,” you acknowledge your husband’s most loyal servant with a curt nod. 

“Lord Sukuna requests your presence in the dining hall,” Uraume states, their expression stoic as stone. “He’d like you to join him at once.”

The walk to the dining hall feels interminable as you follow Uraume through the labyrinthine corridor, the air growing colder as you approach the large doors; the rhythmic thrumming of your heartbeat ringing in your ears. Each step of your sandals on the polished wood echoes through the estate. Uraume’s silence is absolute, their steps weightless akin to that of a spirit’s. 

The flickering candlelight casts long, distorted shadows against the shoji screens as you both near closer, and closer. 

When the Shoji doors finally slide open, the divine scent of meat and sweet fruit hits you. Meat. Your eyes dart over to the large cuts splayed across the platter, glistening under the candlelight. 

“It’s buck meat,” The familiar baritone catches your attention and your gaze travels to your peach-haired husband, sitting at the head of the low table. His bottom arms are crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed. His upper hand is cupped around a persimmon fruit; it looks tiny in his palm. “Come, eat.”

“My lord,” you greet him with a low, respectful bow before taking your seat; the silk of your kimono rustling as you settle onto the tatami. 

You stare down at your plate — it had been prepared so meticulously; thinly sliced venison, garnished with herbs, sat alongside a small mound of rice with a small bowl of soup nearby. With your dominant hand, you reach for the rich venison with your chopsticks until you heard the loud noises of chewing and licking. 

Your hand freezes.

In a pitiful attempt, you attempt to focus on your own portion, however you find your curiosity is repeatedly drawn at such visceral noises. The sound is oddly wet, rhythmic, and utterly visceral. The sound of such loud, wet slurping nearly makes your heart jump out of your chest; it is unabashedly lewd. You swallow nothing, your throat dry. 

Your gaze, betraying your vain attempts at noble decorum, drifts towards the source of the noise — Sukuna’s lower abdomen. And then you see it. Oh, god. Oh. God.

Save me now.

You watch, both transfixed and horrified, as the jagged teeth of the mouth on his abdomen part to take a bite out of the fleshy persimmon; the tongue licking the juice from his skin. Without realizing, your breath hitches at the way his tongue pokes out of his maw, its appetite insatiable. 

As shameful as it is, you want to be that fruit, too. 

“Is your meal not to your liking? I notice your gaze wandering anywhere else but your food.” 

A soft gasp unexpectedly escapes you, and you clamp your mouth shut with your hands. A rush of heat floods your entire body.

Stupid, stupid! 

A loud laugh erupts from the King of Curses’ throat, a sound that vibrates through the floorboards and into your very bones. You want to hide away so badly. 

“So,” Sukuna rumbles, his four eyes narrowing down at your pitiful form.

With a slow, deliberate thumb, he wipes a small smear of the sweet persimmon juice from his abdominal muscle, never breaking eye contact. Inadvertently, your eyes wander lower, your saliva stuck in your throat as you watch his maw reach for the juice on his slick thumb; the tongue swirling around his finger ever so slightly. You attempt to suppress whatever noise that threatens to escape your throat underneath his intense gaze.

Oh my god. Your gaze lifts to the ceiling. Your eyes close. I’m going to hell. 

A dark chuckle echoes across the room. 

“Who would have guessed my little wife has a stomach for the macabre?” The peach-haired male hummed, staring down at you with an amused expression plastered across his face. 

“Who would have also guessed that my wife can be such a pervert?”

He makes sure to accentuate the last word with a mocking tilt of his head, and you feel your face becoming impossibly hotter. 

“You…” You clench your fist, your grip tightening around the wooden chopsticks. “You are being cruel, My Lord.”

The words spill from your lips with gritted teeth.

“Cruel?” Sukuna leans forward from across the table, his massive frame casting a shadow that can almost swallow you whole. The smirk on his lips deepens, revealing a glint of his canines. “I’m merely observing. You’re the one making it so easy for me to read. You’ve spent the last fortnight avoiding my gaze, so tell me, wife. What’s exactly changed?” 

Your response is immediate, it nearly surprises you.

“It’s been a fortnight,” you repeat after him, your voice trembling but rising to meet his. The frustration of fourteen nights spent in a cold, lonely bed — many of the nights you spent wondering if you were merely invisible or simply inadequate—finally boils over; his mockery being the final spark to set the tiniest amount of patience you had left ablaze. 

“It’s been a fortnight and you’ve yet to ask for my presence in your chambers. You call me wife, yet you refuse to bed me. Is this your way of mocking me? Do you even see me as a woman?” 

The silence that follows is absolute — a heavy, suffocating weight that seems to suck the air right out of the room, making you breathless. Behind Sukuna, you can sense Uraume’s usual icy demeanour shatter into that of pure disbelief; their violet eyes widen, fixed on you as if they are staring at a ghost. Tsubuki and Kuri have gone rigid, standing upright like frozen statues with their gazes pinned to the wooden floorboards.

“Out,” he says, his voice a low thrum that is somehow more terrifying than that of a shout. The expression on his face unreadable, but the look in his eyes showed otherwise.

You begin to push back from the table, your lips pressed tightly together. Embarrassment floods over your body in large waves; it was naive to think anything would change after your outburst.

Sukuna clicks his tongue. 

“No. You, stay where you are.” He commands, the authority in his tone anchors you to the spot, He turns his head to the side and barks at the attendants standing nearby. “All of you — out. Now.”

Uraume and the attendants leave the room without question, the shoji doors sliding shut with a soft, final click that echoes throughout the silent dining room. 

Your heart hammers against your chest in rapid motions, your stomach coils into a tight knot. With the absence of the servants, the space feels cavernous, yet the space between you and Sukuna feels dangerously small in proximity. The air looming between you feels unbearably thick. Your instincts are telling you to leave — to run, but your feet stays planted on the tatami. 

“You’re one of many surprises, indeed. Especially with that sharp tongue of yours.” Sukuna says as he slowly rises from his seat, his shadow stretching across the table like a dark tide. He begins to round the table, his footsteps slow, yet heavy. “A fortnight of playing the part of the dutiful wife, yet all this time, you were developing a grudge because I hadn’t yet claimed what was mine?”

He stops in front of you, squatting down to your level. His four eyes stare at you with an unwavering intensity. 

Your throat goes dry as you shuffle beneath his gaze, “I… I apologize if I’ve offended you, My Lord.”

He clicks his tongue, amused. 

“There you go again,” he whistles, brushing his peach locks back with a large palm. “Staring at me like that. Yes, that — like a bitch in heat. Are you even being sincere with your apology?” 

He inches closer. 

“Didn’t I tell you, wife — that if you want something, you’ll have to use your words.”

You’re about to retort a response, but he hooks his index and middle finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his unwavering gaze. A low hum erupts from his throat, a chuckle vibrating against his chest. 

“If only you could see how you look right now.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with fascination and suppressed hunger. “You look famished.”

You try to pull away, to find some shred of your former dignity, but your face betrays you. You are flushed a deep, feverish crimson, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. A look of pure, unadulterated wanton is plastered across your features—a dazed, hungry expression you aren't even aware you’re wearing, but is all laid bare for your husband to see. 

“My Lord…” you mumble out, disdain and arousal laced in your voice. “If… you’re just going to keep teasing me, I’ll have to take my leave.”

Yet, you don’t find it within yourself to leave. 

His face inches closer to yours, his warm breath fanning over your face. He smiles almost mockingly, his eyes reading you intently. “No, you won’t.”

Wordlessly, he sweeps the porcelain dishes off the table in a single motion — the sounds of porcelain shattering echoes athwart the room. You snap your gaze to the piles of broken dishes on the floor, breathless. 

“My lo—!”

Without giving yourself the chance to utter out a single response, his large hands grip at your waist — eliciting a surprised gasp escaping from your lips as he hoists you over the table; seating you on the bare, mahogany wood. The top pair of his eyes remain locked on yours, whilst the bottom pair of his eyes glaze over to the way your lips part, puckering ever so slightly—a silent and subconscious invitation born of the very desperation you tried so vainly to hide. 

One of his lower hands grips at the plush of your thighs, while his upper hands slowly snake around your back, slowly undoing the knot of your obi; loosening the silk fabric. The cool air hits your bare shoulder, a hitched breath escaping your throat, the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen becomes too much for you to bear. With his large frame resting between your legs, it’s impossible to close your legs shut — impossible to hide your arousal. 

Sukuna’s blood red gaze trails down the line of your throat, catching sight of the small, glistening beads of sweat trailing down your flushed skin, disappearing beneath the collar of your kimono toward the swell of your chest.

For the first time since your wedding, the King of Curses—your husband—finally closes the distance. He leans in, his warm breath fans over the nape of your neck. He sniffs at the skin, and you feel yourself shrinking beneath him. 

“M-My Lord,” your breath hitches when you feel his slick tongue trace over your delicate skin. He licks a long stripe along your collarbone, his chest rumbles with a sound so primal. He pulls away, licking his lips.

“You smell sweeter today,” he hums, “taste is immaculate, too.” 

He breaks into grin, “No wonder why you’ve been acting the way you’ve been. Are you even aware that you’re at you’re most fertile today?”

He trails a large finger along the fabric of your kimono, his digit dipping inside ever so slightly into the soft flesh of your abdomen.

 “Your body’s in need of getting a good fuck,” he growls.

“W-what?—” Your pulse races at the filthy words spilling from his tongue. Every syllable is effortless, rolling off his lips as smooth as honey.

He wants to taste you, so fucking bad. Every day spent observing your feigned indifference, every night spent waiting for your pride to shatter, has led to right where he wants you to be. His senses have never failed him.

“Tell me, my little wife.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours — his hot breath ghosts over your lips. It’s taking everything within you to not pull him by the collar of his kimono and crash your hungry lips against his. However, your anticipation precedes you. “Tell me how eager you are to be treated like a slut.”

You being reduced to such a term should have offended you — wound your pride, even. However, you find yourself rocking your hips gently to his derogatory and crude words. It shouldn’t have aroused you much, yet it did. Your walls of pride has long fallen; the need for being touched — the need of having your obscene scenarios coming to life. 

You’ve never been touched, yet your hunger is akin to one of a fucking succubus. 

“Tell me exactly what you want,” a low purr rumbles from Sukuna’s throat, “and I’ll consider giving it to you.”

Consider? 

Your eyes dart down to the large bulge — bulges — nudging against your thigh, and your mouth immediately waters; much akin to your lower lips between your thighs. Your mind’s going haywire at the newfound discovery. He wants this. You truly doubt there was anything else for him to consider.

You want this.

You need this.

The one thing you’ve been aching for an agonizing fourteen nights is merely within your reach.

“Touch me,” you exhale, “please, husband. I need you.”

With a low, guttural growl, his upper hands seize the front of your loosened kimono. Of course, the King of Curses doesn’t bother with the remaining ties keeping your kimono and kosode together; he rips the fabric apart with ease. The sound of tearing fabric rings in your ears, soon followed with a wave of cool air rushing over your chest — your buds growing taut at the contact. The fine embroidery is ruined, hanging in tatters around your hips. Though, he can care less, and so do you. 

You sit on the edge of the wooden table, splayed and bare to his hungry four-eyed gaze. 

He lets out a sharp, jagged breath, his pupils blown wide as he finally sees your pretty cunt coated in all its love juices; your centre slick and glistening — a testament as to how badly you craved for him. 

“You dared to question me whether or not I see you as a woman,” he mumbles, his voice going an octave lower, “as if my restraint wasn’t already a goddamn mercy.”

The silk of his kimono slides from his shoulders in a slow, fluid motion; revealing the true, terrifying scale of his Herculean frame. The candlelight catches the sheen of sweat on his skin, trailing down towards the maw on his abdomen. Its teeth glint, and its tongue flickers out. 

His lower hands slide up the insides of your thighs, the calloused pads of his fingers dragging over the warm, sensitive skin with an agonizing, frustrating slowness. His upper hands trail over your collarbone before dipping down to the center of your chest. He cracks a small smile, amused at the way your heart quickens at his touch. He hasn’t even gotten to the best part yet.

His upper hands continue their slow, possessive descent — it is almost torturous, the pads of his fingers grazing the top of your breasts while his lower hands reach the very apex of your trembling thighs; his palm hovering your aching heat. 

“Hah,” a breathless sound escapes Sukuna’s lips, his lower hands finally making contact with the slick heat between your thighs; his finger dragging through the evidence of your undoing, the sensation of his calloused skin against your sensitive folds elicits a sweet moan escaping your lips. “You’re so fucking drenched.” 

“And whose fault is that?” you retort, your voice just as breathless as your eyes travel down to the hungry maw etched onto his abdomen and your hips thrust upward in a subconscious plea. He follows your gaze and a chuckling scoff escapes his throat. 

“The filth you hide in your mind truly astounds me.” 

He doesn’t pull away — rather, he presses his body closer to yours, his large hands parting your legs further and he shifts your hips. Your mind immediately goes numb. You feel the humid, heavy breath of the maw on his abdomen ghosting over your inner thighs, inches away from your dripping cunt. 

“Please—” your plea finally breaks from your plea in a quiet, broken murmur. 

The word is barely is out before your head snaps, your spine arching off the wooden table as a surprised, sharp gasp of unadulterated pleasure is ripped from your throat as you feel the blunt, calloused tip of his middle finger dipping into your heat. 

A heavy, hitched breath escapes Sukuna’s throat.

“Please, what?” He hums, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he dips his finger deeper; your walls embraces his digit eagerly, pulsing around him desperately. He finds it all so intoxicating. 

Your hands rush to grip at the biceps of his upper arms, your nails digging into his skin. 

He doesn’t stop at one; he slides a second finger inside, relishing in the way your eyes roll back and your lips part. 

“M-My Lord—” you gasp out, but your husband cuts you off. “Call me by my name.”

He curls his fingers deep inside you, finding that sweet, delicious spot that makes your neck croon and toes curl. 

“Sukuna—!” A loud squeal rips from your throat, paired with the intense clenching and pulsing of your pussy around his two digits. He’s relentless. With each powerful thrust of his fingers, he digs deeper, his knuckles bumping against your entrance while continuously hitting your sweet spot in repeated motions. Your hips buck up against his, your nails digging deeper into his shoulder. 

“P-Please—Ah! I want—I want…” You barely gasp out, your mind turning into mush at his cruel ministrations. You’re far beyond embarrassment now, your whole body engulfed with need and sheer arousal. 

“Mmm… want to feel your tongues on me.” The request leaves your lips in a lewd, broken mewl. 

“Fuck. That’s it.” He licks his lips. Each wet, rhythmic slap of his fingers fingers fucking into your pussy and your sweet, restrained moans sends jolts of arousal straight to his dicks — pressing uncomfortably against his hakama. 

He leans his forehead against yours, his crimson gaze staring deep into yours as the thrusts of his fingers increased in force and speed; his pace relentless and punishing, pushes you ultimately to your climax. “I-I’m… I think I’m going to—” your eyes roll back, your body trembles beneath him. 

A loud moan of your husband’s name breaks from your lips. Your back arches violently, your toes curling as your walls clamp down on his fingers. Yet, he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t relent — relishing in your unraveling by his two fingers. You try to reach his lower arms, but his upper arms stop you; holding your wrist in a vice grip while he continues to destroy your hole with his two, large, digits. 

“Hah. You’ve finally lost it, haven’t you?” A low rumble vibrates against your bare chest. “Just how dirty were your fantasies that you’re begging for both my mouths?”

“W-wait—!” You cry out, your voice cracking as the pressure in your abdomen builds into something well-nigh unbearable. “You’re—AH! Y-You’re gonna make me pee!”

Sukuna doesn’t flinch, rather it gives him even more of a drive to see you let loose.

 “Let go,” he says, his command immediately reaching your belly. It isn’t long before your sweet, hot juices spray across his hand and the tattooed skin of his abdomen. 

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, fascinated at the mess you created. Slowly, he pulls digit out of your heat; his eyes glued to the slick nectar coating around his two fingers. You can only watch in awe and embarrassment as he brings the juices to his mouth, his lingua poking out to slowly lap at his own knuckles; savouring your taste with the focus of a connoisseur. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” his rasp comes out in a strained moan.

Feeling bashful, eyes involuntarily dart lower, only for your skin to flush an immense red. The sight is as hypnotic as it is harrowing. While your husband tastes you above, his maw below has grown restless — your gaze stuck onto the sight as that heavy, muscular tongue lolls out to lap at the juices splayed across your abdomen; primal, wet noises escape the maw and it echoes throughout the dining room. 

You can’t wait any longer. You want him. Now. 

Driven by a sudden, desperate surge of temerity to drown out any remaining shame you have left, you reach up and tangle your fingers into his pink locks, pulling his face down to yours and you finally lock lips. 

Sukuna lets out a brief, surprised hum against your lips, his four eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he melts. He meets your tongue with an overwhelming fervour, one of his upper hands sliding from your waist to cradle the back of your head, softly digging his fingers into your locks. Below, your legs act on their own accord; you hook your ankles behind his his back, your thighs locking around his chiseled torso and bringing his maw closer to your heat. Such a motion hitches your hips upward, dragging your slick, pulsing cunt directly against the heat of his lower mouth.

The reaction is instantaneous — you both moan into the kiss, your tongues entwined into one another while you can feel the maw’s humid breath scorching your inner thighs.  

Sukuna breaks the kiss just enough to huff against your lips, his forehead still pressed firmly against yours. “Fuck, you’re just insatiable, aren't you?”

You can only let out a whimper in response, your head lolling back as the thick, salacious muscle swipes a long line along your drenched slit. “Holy fuck,” is all you can utter. 

He shifts his hips, his lower hands reaching down to grip your knees and spread you even wider on the mahogany table, a raspy chuckle leaves his lips when the tongue pokes out of his abdomen to lap greedily at your pussy before entering inside — eliciting a sweet cry to escape from your throat. 

The noises that escape you are no longer coherent; loud sobs of pleasure and heavy breaths bounce off the high ceilings. You are pinned, splayed, and utterly consumed. 

He rocks his hips slowly, grinding his maw against your heat as it messily laps at your folds, glistening the skin in both your juices and its saliva. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, a breathless moan escaping your lips. 

“Look at you,” Sukuna purrs, his upper eyes’ pupils blown wide in pure arousal — it almost felt predatory. “You’re taking him so well. How does it feel acting like a harlot when this is your first time ever being touched by a man?”

“I-I’ve always been so — Mmh!” You roll your head back once more, a hitched cry leaves your pretty — drool-drenched lips. “You had… always—ngh! Piqued my interest—!” 

“So much that you’ve become curious as to what my two mouths could do to you? I’m starting to wonder if you’ve spent those nights dreaming the same about my cocks.” 

The thought alone makes your heart Hammer against your ribs. Of course, you have. How could you not?

“You had never summoned me, despite me waiting for days.” You say quietly, biting your lips as you feel his maw fuck its tongue deeper into your hole. “Ahn! So… I-I just let my mind wander.”

“Do you realize how easily you could’ve had me if you used that voice of yours? Hm?”

He licks a small stripe along your incarnadine lips, his lips brushing against the corners of your lips. His hot breath sends a wave of shivers and arousal down your spine. 

He rasps, “You could have crawled to me on the first night — begged, even. And I might have let you taste a fraction of this. You could have dropped that pride of yours and you wouldn’t to rely on such imagination.”

The tongue inside you flickers with a sudden, rapid intensity; briefly exiting your hole before the muscle begins swirling around your clitoris — flicking at the firm, sensitive bud before the mouth circles around it and sucks — drawing your clitoris into his abdomen. 

“Is this anything like you’ve imagined?” He teases, despite the cocky edge in his voice, he sounded strained; his breath raspy and heavy, hitching in tandem with the frantic rhythm of his lower mouth as it devours your pussy. “Answer me, slut.” 

“It’s s’much bettER—Ah!”

You feel as though air is completely knocked out of your lungs, your mind drowning in the immense pleasure he is giving you. The sensation of his maw sucking your clit with such vigour — it’s driving you mad — just as much as it is affecting him.

“Fuck…” He grunts, the profanity torn from his throat as his abs ripple and spasm against your inner thighs.

His cocks pulse frantically beneath the thin fabric of his hakama — the need growing from below has become far too much for him to bear — his patience already wears thin. He needs more. The table alone won’t be enough for what he wants to do so desperately with you.

“We’re going to my chambers.” He growls, his voice dripping with pure, carnal need. 

He doesn’t spare you a second to recover; his lower hands dive under the your thighs, his large hands gripping the plush of your ass with a bruising strength and hoisting you off the mahogany table in one motion. Your hands immediately find refuge in the crevices of his shoulder, snaking your arms around his large frame as he hoists your trembling body up — your cunt still dripping from the relentless assault of his second mouth. You dig your canines into his neck, stifling the loud cries that threaten to slip past your lips. 

With you in his arms, he makes large strides towards the shoji. Though, the maw on his abdomen doesn’t cease to quit; it continues to lap and swirl around your dripping entrance greedily. You inhale sharply, biting your lip, trying to both stabilize and ground yourself.

The shoji flies open with a sharp, echoing clack!

Though, your heart plummets into your stomach — your skin pales. 

Tsubuki and Kuri stands as stlll as statues along the walls, their head bowed in practiced, chilling discipline. They don’t flinch at the sight of their master half-bare, nor do they look up to catch sight of his naked wife in his arms — completely at the mercy of the mouth on his stomach; a mixture of your juices and its saliva dripping down onto the polished wood board.

Despite their stone-faced expressions, you find it hard not to notice the tinge of red staining the tips of their ears. As disciplined as they are, they are neither deaf nor foolish.

“I feel you tightening around his tongue,” he whispers in your ear, “does this arouse you?”

A feverish heat consumes your entire face, and you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. You pray for the ground below you to open up and swallow you whole, yet your body betrays you; breathless moans escapes your lips, muffled only by the hot, sweaty skin of his shoulder. 

“Let’s go already,” you whine, your voice muffled by his skin. 

His heavy strides echoes through the corridor, with every step, your hips meet with the maw. With every step, you’re shocked with jolts of pleasure. Eventually he reaches the shoji leading to his chambers, and he slides them open. Not even a moment after, the wooden door slides shut with a loud thud.

The air in his chambers feel heavy, the strong scent of cedar and sandalwood incense immediately fills your nostrils. 

He doesn’t bother with the futon. Rather, Sukuna pins you against the nearest wall, the sudden impact eliciting a sharp, breathless gasp. He locks his lips against yours, and with a subtle tilt of his head, he deepens the kiss — his tongue dominating yours with ease. He pulls away, sloppily kissing at your neck down to your collarbone; his large, calloused palms molding the soft mounds of your breast, his thumbs lazily flicking and rolling your nipples until he feels your hips jerk against his.

Your breath hitches.

His lips only trail lower and lower until he reaches your breast, engulfing the hardened bud inside his mouth. He returns the same love to your other breast before his lips trail lower, and lower; passing your abdomen and inching closer to your heat. A broken whimper escapes your throat, your fingers traveling up and finding solace in his roseate locks as he sinks to his knees before you. 

His large, calloused hands palm the plush of your ass, nearly bruising the soft skin as he pulls you closer to his face. His tongue is softer, hitting your spots with controlled movements 

“Pl-Please,” You stammer in between soft moans, “I want you now.”

“You can wait,” he replies, his voice muffled as his lips remain on your cunt; his chin drenched in both his drool and your juices. “You’ve always been good at that.”

“You can handle a few more minutes of me tasting you,” He says before wrapping his lips tightly around your clit, sucking around the sensitive bud tightly. Looking up, his four eyes are all fixated on you; relishing in the way your body unravels beneath his tongue. He nearly moans at the sight; his grip tightening around your ass, his fingers digging into the skin. 

“So sweet,” he groans against your skin. 

In the midst of his torture, his lower hands abandon your ass, and they trail down past the rigid muscle of his abdomen with a newfound hurriedness. Then, the silence of the room — paired with your heavy breathing — is punctuated by the heavy rustle of fabric as his hakama finally drops to the wooden floor.

Holy shit. 

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at the sight, or the way your throat goes dry. In languid movements, he strokes his upper cock with his hand. It takes everything within him not to cackle when he hears you audibly gulp at the lewd sight; your gaze hopelessly trapped by the steady motions of his hand. 

“You still want this?” He questions, his voice dripping in arousal. “Or is it more than you can handle?”

“Of course I do,” you reply almost immediately, as your voice eventually quiets; your eyes narrowing into the daunting size of his girth. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Good.”

With a sudden burst of movement, his upper hands snatch your waist, hoisting you off the floor as if you weight nothing at all. A surprised yelp leaves you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips and your fingers digging into his brawny, tattooed shoulders as he strides toward the futon. 

He drops you onto the silk, the impact firm enough to make your hips bounce and your hair fan out across the fabric below you. And before you can even register what’s going on, his massive shadow looms over your frame; the mattress of the futon dipping under his weight as he crawls between your knees as his frame effortlessly pushes your legs farther apart. 

His upper hands reach down, his calloused fingers hooking firmly behind your knees to hike them up toward your chest — a position that leaves your drenched cunt bared and vulnerable to his gaze. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, licking his lips. With one hand, he lazily brings his lower cock up and slaps the heavy, pulsing length against your heat — watching the way the tip of his cock drags through the pool of your shared slickness before slapping it against you once more. “Your body’s practically begging to be filled, ha.”

He pushes your knees further up and pins them toward your shoulders, eliciting a surprised gasp of his name to tumble past your lips. The moment you feel his tip push inside, you keen. 

“God!” A small scream erupts from your throat, your neck craning back into the pillows. The sharp pain immediately strikes you as your walls struggle to accommodate to the sheer size of his —

“Are you really screaming another man’s name when I’m inside you?” He teases, though the humor in his voice is tempered by a strained groan. He rocks his hips slowly, claiming your walls inch by inch. Your cunt’s just as greedy, your walls gripping onto each ridged vein of his monster girth as he slides deeper. All that follows are your sweet moans and whimpers gracing his ears.

“Shit — you’re clenching around me like a fucking vice.” He hisses, tilting his head back slightly. The muscles in his jaw tightens, his four eyes narrowing down at you; his pupils blown wide in some sort of primal desire. “You have to relax for me if you want me to go in all the way.”

“There’s more?!” You exclaim, your voice nearly cracking.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he says as he presses your further into the mattress, “but I’m barely halfway.” 

“Y-You’re going to rip me apart,” you stammer softly, a faint, instinctual fear blooming in your chest as you look up at the Herculean man above you. 

“With how wet you are for me right now? I doubt it.” He counters, smiling as his voice drops low into a whisper. “Besides, you are going to take it. I will make sure of it.”

With another deliberate tilt of his pelvis, he drives another inch of his cock into you. He relishes the way your eyes roll back at the sensation, your back arching off the mattress as your breath hitches into a high-pitched whine. What began as a brief, sharp sting quickly transitions into pure, unadulterated bliss — a hot spark that short-circuits your every thought and takes over you whole.

“Fuck, fuck…” He hisses under his breath, his jaw tight. The friction of your walls, pulsing and squeezing around him so sweetly is nonetheless, for him, pure torture. “You’re so tight — so goddamn perfect. I’m going all the way now, okay? You feel so fuckin’ good.”

With that, the peach-haired male anchors himself and with a sudden surge of his hips, he drives forward, burying the remaining length of his cock in one motion; his pelvis slamming flush against yours. A loud, needy sob dies in your throat as he fills you to the very brim, stretching your walls in a way that you didn’t realize felt possible — let alone pleasurable. It leaves you utterly breathless, yet yearning for more. 

Sukuna’s brows knit together in a sharp V, stifling whatever noises that threaten to escape his throat. His blunt, manicured nails digs deeper into the flesh of your hips, anchoring you to the futon as he commences a merciless pace. 

“S-Suk—un—“ You try to utter your husband’s name in between moans and broken gasps, your voice getting more incoherent as seconds pass. Your eyes roll back, a thin trail of drool escaping your parted lips. “I-I’m go—fuck! P-Please I’m so close—”

With your knees pinned back and your body tilted at such a punishing angle, your husband makes mean, effortless contact with your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips; the tip of his cock kissing your sensitive womb. The wet, lewd slap of skin meeting skin echoes through the chamber — paired with the needy moans that escapes your lips as he fucks you through your nth orgasm of the night.

Even through the haze of the pleasure clouding your thoughts, you can’t ignore the heavy, pulsing weight resting against your navel. Without thinking twice, your hand reaches out, your fingers curling around the girth of his upper cock; your small palm sliding over his pulsing length as your thumb languidly presses against the tip, smudging his pre-cum across the skin. 

A surprised hiss leaves Sukuna’s lips, his rhythm faltering for a brief moment as his four-eyed gaze snaps down to where your hand lies before traveling back up to yours. You still look fucked out — wide-eyed and breathless — but despite having your shit absolutely ruined, you still look adorable as ever. 

“Mmh. Keep going. Just like that.” He commands, though the authority that was once present in his voice is beginning to fray. Small, involuntary groans tear out of his throat as he attempts to maintain his composure. However, with your hand working him above and your pussy practically milking him from below, he, too is coming undone — much closer to his limit than he’d ever care to admit. 

Low moans of your name tumbles past his lips as he rocks his hips into yours, his pace growing more frantic and uncontrolled by the second; his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pulls you closer — the tip of his cock kissing your cervix each time, and his upper length gliding against the gentle palms of your hand. 

Glancing down at your trembling figure, your face contorting in pure bliss, and your lips drenched in your own drool as you pathetically try to suppress your noises — You look absolutely undone, and he loves every single bit of it. He licks a long stripe along your ankle, before pressing a chaste kiss against the sweaty skin; grinning at the way your body immediately jolts at the sensation. 

“You…” He begins in a low murmur, though you can feel him smile against your skin. “I’m going to put all my seed in you, and you’re going to take it. All of it.”

He almost laughs at the way your walls squeeze around his cock almost immediately, as if it is begging for him to do so. You, however, can only whimper out jumbled out a series of ‘yes, please’ 

“Fucking harlot,” he bemuses, “out of all the normal men on this earth, the only one your cunt’s craving so shamelessly for just had to be some abomination?”

He leans closer, pressing his cock somehow deeper; he devours the sound of your keen, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Take it,” he snarls, the command sends jolts throughout your entire body. 

“Please, fuck. I need — Ngh! Please ‘Kuna, I need it—”

With one final thrust and a deep, guttural groan, he pins you into the mattress with his weight; his fingers digging into the back of your thighs as all your vision turned to white. The sensation is immediate — a hot, pulsing warmth that seems to fill every hollow of your being. His upper cock twitches above your abdomen, spilling out hot spurts of his thick, white seed across your skin, painting a messy trail from the curve of your abdomen all the way up to your flushed, breathless face. 

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by your shallow pants; the air thick with the scent of salt and sex. You can barely find the strength to move your legs, your muscles still twitching from your release.

Sukuna’s large figure looms over you, all four of his eyes tracking the way your chest heaves and your gaze struggles to focus, seemingly committing every detail to memory. Most importantly, his eyes trail over your body and the way his seed maps across your skin like it was a work of art. He moves slowly, his upper hand reaching towards your flushed face.

His thumb finds the streak of white across the apples of your cheek, swiping at the skin with a newfound gentleness. Despite the fondness that’s present in his expression, there’s also a smug look that’s faintly etched across his face as he brings the digit towards your mouth. You’re truly no better as you wordlessly stick your tongue out, meeting his gaze with a heavy-lidded, breathless stare. Stripped off all your pride, you let your tongue swirl around his digit before sucking on it softly — cleaning his finger free from his cum. 

With another hand, he brushes his fingers across the soft locks of your hair.

“Good girl,” Your husband murmurs, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear before dragging lower towards your jaw. He smiles, almost teasingly.

“I don't know what other thoughts you have swimming around in your head, but I hope you didn’t think a single round would be enough to tire me." He leans closer, brushing his lips against your ear. "After a fortnight of waiting, I'm more than certain you feel the same way."

Sukuna stares at the ceiling, a dizzying mix of admiration and genuine shock washing over him. He had given you everything he had—seven rounds that would have sidelined most people for a week—and you're in the next room, effectively topping off your tank because he’d run out of gas.

He can't sleep now, deciding to go shower himself in one of the other bathrooms and change the bedding before you get back. And somehow, you're still in there when he's done.

When the water finally stops, you emerge wrapped in a towel, looking radiant and utterly satisfied. You climb back into bed, smelling of jasmine and steam, and tuck yourself under the duvet.

“All good now?” Sukuna asks, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and playful defeat.

“Perfect,” you hum, snuggling into his chest. “You’re the best, Ryo. Seriously. Sleep now.”

He wraps a heavy arm around your, feeling your heartbeat steady and calm against his. He's definitely going to need to start doubling his cardio sessions if he wants to survive the month.

The flickering blue light of the television illuminates the darkened living room as the muffled roar of a stadium crowd fills the air.

Sukuna's sunk deep into the sofa, his eyes glued to the screen during the final quarter of a high-stakes game. He's focused on his favorite team and the ball, but he isn't ignoring the weight of you.

You're straddling his thigh, your hips rolling slow and deliberate grinds against the muscular limb. This has been going on for about twenty minutes, your hands gripping his shoulders as you try to find the right angle, the right pressure.

Your boyfriend, ever the team player, had reached down a while ago with his free hand, his fingers working rhythmically under the hem of your silk shorts to help you along. Pumping in and out of the puddle of slick that's pooling at your hole in tacky squelches.

He's trying to be present, but his body is still recovering from your fuck this morning that carried well into the afternoon. Still, he's a good sport and wants to help even if it means multitasking while watching the match.

“Ryo,” you huff, your voice strained and brows knotted as you buck against his hand for more, grinding your aching clit against his rough palm.

“I've got you, baby,” he assures you, pressing the heel of his palm closer as he fucks you on his fingers faster, letting you ride them.

Shifting, you bounce on them, trying to use them to reach your elusive orgasm. Your breathing is shallow, hitched with a desperation that's starting to border on frantic.

Sukuna doubles his efforts, his fingers moving with practiced precision, but he can feel the tension in your legs isn't the good kind—it is the kind born of mounting frustration.

Suddenly, you halt. You don't collapse against him in a post-climax haze. You sit bolt upright, your chest heaving, and shove his hand away.

“I can't,” you snap, sharp enough to make him finally look away from the TV.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” your boyfriend asks, genuinely concerned as you shimmy out of your shorts with a grumble. “I thought we were getting there.”

“We’re 'getting there' for a normal person, Sukuna, but I’m not getting there,” you retort, gesturing vaguely to your body.

You look genuinely frazzled, your hair wild and your eyes bright with unspent nervous energy. “Your fingers are great, you’re great, but it’s like trying to put out a forest fire with a garden hose. I’m vibrating under my skin and it’s actually starting to hurt because it’s not enough.”

And you have tried, really tried to solely rely on him for your pleasure since your relationship got serious, not wanting to hurt his feelings by using your toys. But you can't take it anymore, not when your body is burning for more.

You are after all a sexual creature and you'd prefer not to drain your boyfriend of his energy like some insatiable succubus.

Sukuna blinks, ink on his face stretching as m his jaw drops slightly. “I thought... I mean, we've been at this for a while. You didn't finish?”

“I finished twice, but it didn't stick,” you whine, sliding off him and standing up. There's a mix of apology and raw need on your face when you look at him then. “I love you, but I can't do this manual labor anymore. I need heavy machinery. I'm going to the bedroom.”

“The toys?” Sukuna asks, dumbfounded as you kiss his forehead.

He feels like a handyman who had just been told his entire toolbox was obsolete and been replaced by a robot.

“The toys,” you confirm, already halfway down the hall. “Enjoy the game, okay?”

You disappear into the bedroom and shut the door. A moment later, even through the heavy wood and the sound of the sports commentator, Sukuna hears a low thrumming start up.

He slumps back on the couch, the remote forgotten in his hand. He looks down at his glistening fingers, then at the door, then back at the TV. For the first time in his life, he feels completely outmatched.

The muffled, rhythmic thump-thump-thump from the bedroom is a taunting buzzing now—a mockery of his failure.

Sukuna sits on the sofa, the sports commentator’s voice fading into background noise as a prickly, hot sensation crawls up his neck. It isn't just male ego but a sudden, sharp sense of displacement. He is a man who prides himself on being able to handle anything, yet he feels like he’d been benched for a machine.

“Fuck this,” he curses as he stands up, the remote clattering onto the coffee table, and marches down the hallway, not bothering to knock as he barges in.

The sight that greets him makes his blood pressure spike.

You're sprawled in your ergonomic office chair, your head lolling against the top of it with your face cast in a dewy glow, lips parted and your eyes droopy, brows scrunched in that almost worried look of pleasure.

A sleek, powerful piston-style machine is suctioned to the mahogany desk your legs are draped over, the silicon, realistic cock driving in and out of you with relentless precision. It's lined with ridges and veins you're surely feeling rubbing back and forth inside you as you squirt some lube over the length of it as if your pussy isn't drooling enough already.

Sweat-slicked skin is bare, the only part of you clothed being your socked feet that bow when your toes curl, your supple tits wobble in circles on your chest as your soft tummy dips and dives with each sloppy thrust of the dildo between your thighs.

The noises spilling out of you—the sharp, high-pitched hitches in your breath and the low, raspy moans—are the exact ones he’d spent the last hour trying to coax out of you. Seeing a piece of hardware do effortlessly what he’d sweat through his shirt to achieve feels like a slap in the face.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Sukuna barks, startling you.

Your half-lidded eyes snap open, dilated and glazed with heat. “Ryo! I told you, I just needed—”

“You need me,” he cuts in, crossing the room and slapping the power switch on the machine. The whirring dies instantly, leaving a deafening silence in the room.

“Hey!” you protest, voice shaky like it tends to get when you're on the brink of coming as you reach for the toy. “I was almost—”

“Change of plans,” Sukuna drawls, not looking offended anymore, just determined.

Scooping you out of the chair, ignoring your surprised squeal, he carries you a few feet to the bed. Then he tosses you onto the mattress, stripping hastily and following you down before you can even find your breath.

“You think a toy can do it better?” he growls, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. “Watch this.”

Heavy pumps of blood rush to his aching cock, fattening it until it's flushed an angry red, bobbing between his thighs. Spreading your legs, he all but shoves it inside you, eye twitching at how there's little to no resistance after that damn toy but he's bigger so a bit of a stretch is needed.

That does nothing to soothe his battered and bruised pride as he pulls all the way back, reveling in how you buck and lift your hips to try and get more of him in you like the glutton you are.

“Greedy whore, nothing's ever enough of you, is it?”

A fussy, needy whine comes from you as your brows bow and your lips purse. “Ryo, don't be a dick. You took away the toy, the least you could do is—Ah!”

Slamming his hips back down, his cock punches you in the stomach, kicking a wrecked moan out of your lungs as your pussy convulses at the unexpected intrusion, slick seeping out of you and pooling on the sheets. The force of the thrust pushes you further up on the bed and you can't even grip onto anything because he's got your hands in his.

A grin full of sharp teeth graces you though it's more like a sneer as his crimson gaze bores in yours with every intent to repossess your soul. The man is far gone, no longer the caring, attentive one who's always putting your pleasure first.

No, he's going to fuck you through the mattress and your stomach is swooping at the thought.

Freeing your hands, his big palms slam down on your sides, groping and kneading your plush flesh as he hums. “You're a fucking nymph so I'll give you exactly what you want.”

Then he's ramming into you, thick shaft spearing your insides as he fucks you hard and fast, your body bouncing helplessly beneath him, shaky cries and sobs of pleasure ripping from your throat.

“Hnngh, Ryo,” you moan, parting your legs further for more.

Animalistic grunts and groans rumble through his chest as the erotic, filthy slap of skin on skin fills the room, headboard bashing against the wall and rattling the nightstands, the pillows cushioning each thud of your head against it.

“Hah, can't talk much now, can ya?”

“Shuddup,” you breathe.

Large, calloused hands grab you by the hips and drag you back and forth on his cock in slick, shlucks, the squelches of your slobbering pussy deafening as you gasp out moans and high-pitched whimpers.

Gruff snarls exhale from him, his muscles bunching as he uses you like a toy, his personal fleshlight to throw around and fold into whatever shape he wants. Tears stream down your face in pearlescent streaks that he licks away, tongue slipping into your mouth as his teeth click against yours and you can barely kiss back with how he's pounding into you.

He's not holding back. This isn't the version of your boyfriend who asks if the pace is okay; this is the man who knows every inch of your body and is intent on reclaiming his territory. He uses his heavy weight to crush you into the mattress, his strength to bend and toss you around, and relentless thrusts that mimic the machine but add the heat of skin and the friction of muscle.

“Look at you, all spaced out,” he coos, nipping at your cheek, grinning against your skin when it makes you flutter around him. “Should do this more often.”

“Yeah,” you slur.

Sukuna stays focused, his movements powerful and unwavering. Every time you try to catch your breath, he shifts, finding a deeper angle, a sharper sensation, refusing to let the tension break until you crumble. Your protests for a break melt into desperate pleas, your fingers digging into his back as you come again and again and again—a deep, full-body shudder that leaves you sobbing for air.

Webs of milky, sticky slick stretch in glimmering strings between his drenched cock and your swollen pussy, smearing on your thighs and his. Hot, wet pants condense on your collarbone as he ruts into you like an animal in heat, sweat dripping from his chin.

“So messy, baby,” he hums, glancing down at the ring of frothy cream at his base. “Getting me all sticky. How cute.”

Toasty and stuffy, the air in the room is thick and hard to breathe as his body blankets you from behind, damp chest plastered to your back when he pushes in again, moans leaving you both.

A beefy arm curls around your neck this time, smothering you in his warm masculine musk and the scent of his cologne. It's dizzying or maybe it's because he's slightly choking you in the crook of his elbow but your cunt clamps down on his cock like a vice for more.

Growling, he fucks into you, shaft pummeling your insides until the gooey, gummy walls remember nothing but the shape of him. Whiny, wanton mewls and gasps are driven out of your chest as he slams into you, pumping you full of his cock over and over again.

Manicured nails claw at his forearm in red streaks as you babble and blabber broken syllables of his name and beg for nothing in particular. The well of liquid heat in your belly swells again, coiling tight, your pitch getting higher.

“Ryo, I'm gonna c-come,” you pant out.

His bicep tightens as he chuckles a husky sound that has you shuddering beneath him. “Yeah, can feel your pussy squeezing me.”

“Please, I can't—”

Clicking his tongue, he snaps his hips rather harshly. “Go on then, come.”

“Ah-ahh-hah, hold me,” you plead.

“I am, woman—”

“Tighter, tighter, please!” You're pawing at his arm.

Conceding, he brings his other arm up, wrapping it around your neck too, engulfing your head in a meaty embrace as his rhythm grows frantic and feral, the smack of his thighs against the backs of yours shaking the entire bedframe, bottles of water tumbling from the nightstand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” you gasp out before your voice is stolen by your most violent orgasm yet, your nails drawing blood from his bulky arms as your pussy spasms and milks him.

Sukuna knows that coming now would be inevitable. He'd already pulled out each time he was close to finishing prior to this and ate you out instead so he'd be able to draw countless orgasms from you without tiring himself.

This method was going to be one he used often from now on as he finally felt like he could keep up with your nymphomaniac ass.

Now he's rolling his hips into you in a staggering rhythm that has your legs kicking out and your body writhing under him with each shove of his cock that feels deeper than the last.

Drawing back, he pushes forward again, faster and sharper, groaning into your hair as he presses kisses into your strands. His cock pulses and throbs inside you and he pushes in harder, tip kissing your cervix until he reaches the end of you and stills.

With a mind-melting groan, thick, hot ropes of cum splatter your insides, spilling everything as he grinds against your plump ass in slow, deep strokes, the headlock he has you in loosening.

He doesn't stop until your legs go limp and your head falls forward, your eyes rolling back in sheer exhaustion. For the first time since you'd met, you're well and truly fucked-out.

Lazy kisses dot your sweaty back, neck and face before he rolls off you and sprawls out beside you with a heavy sigh, his own chest heaving, sweat dripping off his jaw.

“Love you,” you mumble.

He looks over at you, satisfaction pooling behind his ribs at the sight of your drowsy face already drifting, your breathing deep and even, your body still.

“Love you too, brat.”

A slow, smug grin curls on his mouth. He folds his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with the quiet triumph of a champion.

“Machine: zero. Sukuna: one,” he snickers to himself childishly, basking in the peace and quiet of the blissful afterglow.

note: what if i disappear until i'm out of tumblr jail? 👀

Babe. Hearing that word roll of his mouth, smooth like honey, was the sheer equivalent of him rubbing salt on your open wound; knowing damn well that you weren't the only one he was seeing. You didn't know how long he hid this from you, and you were honestly afraid to know the answer. But deep down, you knew you needed to know. You reached your arm towards the remote, turning it off. It was silent now. You returned your attention towards the male with a cold gaze.

"We need to talk," you said firmly, yet your voice was slow as you tried to maintain the stability within your emotions that were moments away from bursting out of your chest. The male rubbed the back of his neck, a dry chuckle leaving his lips; his sharp brown eyes averting from your intense glare.

"Can't we wait? I can't be late for the party. The guys are already waiting for me—"

"The guys, you say?" You interrupted Naoya, laughing bitterly as the beads of tears you had desperately tried so hard to control trailed down your cheeks. “Or, is it Airi?”

Oh, how you wished you could take a picture of Naoya’s face the exact moment his mistress’ name left your lips. 

"What…?" Naoya’s voice had gone quiet, his eyes wide in both shock and horror. "W-What are you talking about? Airi?"

Even when caught, rather than admitting it – he still chose to act innocent. You shook your head in dismay, already feeling your composure crumble. 

"There's no use playing stupid, Naoya. It only makes me feel even more embarrassed for you." You said solemnly, your eyes clouded with tears. You could barely make out the facial expressions he was making, but just hearing his desperate excuses just added more to the ache that was growing within your chest.

"We'll make this short and quick," you continued. "After all, your Airi is getting impatient waiting for you in the lingerie you bought her."

Naoya gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowed down at you. "You looked at my phone while I was showering."

"Isn't that obvious?" you bit back, wiping your tears. "How long were you and this woman seeing each other?"

You wanted to smack him until his cheeks turned red, but you held yourself back. "Answer me, Naoya."

His facade crumbled and if you thought you didn't recognize him enough, he effortlessly continued to prove you wrong. He looked down at you coldly, sneering at you. It stung, you had never seen him make such an expression.

"And how is this any of your business, hm?" He said, leaning down towards you with a cold glint in his gaze. "In any case, this should be your fault. You can't even satisfy me in bed! Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone out to seek out for another woman—"

Smack!

The loud sound of your palm making contact with his cheek resonated across the silent living room, the satisfying sting egging you on to slap him a second time. "You make me nauseous. You're surprisingly very audacious for someone who got caught red-handed, cheating.”

You pointed a finger at his chest, prodding harshly against his sternum. You didn't give him a moment to come down from the shock of you slapping the shit out of him. "Fucking answer me, Naoya. How long have you been seeing this woman?"

He mumbled his words, at first. They were barely coherent and you struck him a nasty glare. “What’s that again?”

"Two and a half years," the male grumbled out, holding onto his stinging cheek before mumbling softly. "Agh, fuck that hurts."

You could hear your heart shatter into a million pieces; you could no longer control the onslaught of tears that escaped your eyes.

"Even while we had talks about our future and discussed marriage?" You laughed bitterly through tears. You shook your head, crossing your arms together. You couldn't believe you wasted your time on this man. But then again, good fucking riddance; though the ache in your heart felt otherwise.

"That's all I wanted to know," you said, before turning your back to him.

"You... You're not even going to ask me why I did this?"

"No, there's no need to." You replied quietly. "I loved you and respected all your wishes even when you were too 'busy' to spend time with me. Regardless of whatever fucked up reason you had to cheat on me, I know well enough that it's not my fault."

Naoya stayed silent, but you could tell he was feeling frustrated.

"You're most likely going to keep fucking your coworker behind my back even after we get engaged or even married. So why not just end everything now?" You further added through your persistent tears and sniffles. "So, from now on, go ahead and do whatever you want. We’re done.”

There was a tinge of guilt present in his eyes, but you weren’t going to let it faze you.

You averted your gaze from his, and you can feel your lips beginning to tremble once again. He attempted to reach his arm up to you, but he paused and retracted when his phone resting atop the coffee table began to ring, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You both looked over to the phone, and a familiar name popped up on the screen. It was Airi. You pressed your lips together, blinking rapidly. 

You already knew who he was going to end up choosing. It was a no-brainer. 

You sighed and turned away, “Just go. You can get all your stuff and leave tomorrow morning.”

Making a beeline to your bedroom door and slamming it shut, you plopped down on the soft mattress and all emotions that you tried so desperately to contain had resurfaced; stuffing your face into a pillow, you wailed and wailed — succumbing to heartbreak.

Bitterness swelled in your chest when you heard your ex’s faint voice in the living room as he answered the call. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m heading straight over to you now.”

The door closed, and then came in the silence — however, not without the solemn echoes of your heartbreak. In the end, he didn’t choose you. After what felt like an eternity, your tears had finally dried up, but you stayed in the bed that was once shared between yourself and your now ex-lover. You needed to get your mind off things.

So there you were, clad in an oversized shirt as you walked down the empty streets of your neighborhood, strolling over to the nearest convenience store with your cold hands stuffed in the pockets of your sweatpants. Initially, you thought that walking outside could’ve helped with getting your mind off of things, however, it merely did the opposite; a string of curses leaving your lips in forms of mumbles with each moment that Zen'in crossed your mind.

You didn't realize how quickly fifteen minutes had passed until you stepped into the convenience store, immediately greeted with the cashier's voice laced in both fatigue and boredom. Scanning through the aisles of foods and other necessities, you mentally pondered on what you wanted to get. Bottles of beer, was definitely on the very top of your list. Oddly enough, you didn't have the appetite for anything else.

Purchasing the bottles came by quickly, and you immediately dipped out of the store and headed straight home, your worn out slippers continuously making contact with the concrete with each step you took. Your mind was relentless with attacking you with thoughts of Naoya and Airi, the woman he was seeing behind your back – and all you could think was that you wish you had caught him sooner, rather than trusting him with all your heart could muster and let him do whatever for 'work'. Biting your lips and blinking your eyes rapidly, you had desperately avoided letting out your tears once again; your face was already stained enough with your dried up tears.

As if the universe didn't prove to you enough that they weren't on your side, the skies above began to pour. It didn't even begin with a mere drizzle, not even close. Within seconds, your clothes were drenched and you tried to rush to the nearest shade – however, much to your dismay, there was none and the only solution was to run back home.

Your socks became soaked as well as your shirt, which was uncomfortably stuck to your skin, running through the dark neighborhood with your plastic bag filled with alcohol bottles used as a makeshift umbrella in hopes that it would shield you against the merciless attacks from the sky; yet, it all ended in vain when you tripped over a small crack in the concrete, your body immediately making contact with the cold and wet ground.

Fuck me backwards, that was the sole sentence that went through your mind as you fought back the frustrated tears that threatened to leave your eyes. You stayed on the ground, feeling defeated.

Then, there was a shadow casting above you and the rain stopped. You peered up through your weepy eyes, only for your attention to snap towards a familiar scar on the edge of a man's lips.

"You okay there, doll?" A sudden timbre echoed in your ears, and it was almost as if the rain had actually stopped.

"Does it look like I'm okay, Toji?" You said through trembling lips, feeling the waves of embarrassment washing over you as you stared back up at the tall male holding an umbrella over your head. “W-When did you get here?”

"Well, no. C'mere lemme help you up." Effortlessly, Toji hoisted you up back on your feet with a singular arm, and then his eyes traveled over to your hands. “I was driving by and saw you on the ground.”

"Are you having a house party with those drinks?" He questioned you, gesturing towards the dampened plastic bag filled with the bottles of alcohol.

"They're all for me." You replied in a joking tone, albeit it was the unadulterated truth. The raven-haired male caught on immediately, raising an eyebrow at your response.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked you, his voice resonant as he looked at you with a curious gaze before his eyes widened in surprise. "O-Oh – are you crying?"

"No," you replied to the older man, though there was a waterfall of tears dripping down your cheeks. You spoke through persistent sniffles and shaky breaths, and at this point you weren't even sure if you were coherent for the older cousin to hear but you could honestly care less. "I c-caught Naoya... sniff... c-cheating on me… T-That little shit!"

"That dumbass..." Toji mumbled under his breath. "Let's bring you back home first. You’re drenched all over.”

He hurried you over to his car, and the musky scent of his car air freshener immediately struck your nostrils the moment you stepped into the passenger seat. There was something oddly comforting about it, though. Suddenly, he handed you a spare sweater sitting in the backseat, “Yer shirt’s drenched. Wear this to keep yourself warm.”

You had been so caught up in your emotions that you failed to realize the vibrant colour of your bra peeking through the drenched fabric. Bashful, you grabbed his sweater and thanked him profusely. He waved it off, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Slumping against the seat, you tried to ignore the musky scent of his cologne present in the thick fabric of his black sweater and you wanted to smack yourself profusely for letting your mind wander off too far, however you couldn't help but notice how large he actually is.

It wasn't often that you'd see Naoya's older cousin, as he would show up to family functions once in a blue moon. Though, at first you had found him intimidating as hell, you later found out you weren't all that wrong – making small talk with the older male here and there, much to your ex's dismay.

"Actually, Toji... I don't want to go home, yet." You admitted shortly after he handed you his sweater. "I don't want to come home and be paraded with reminders of that man."

Toji paused briefly before speaking, "So, you're saying that you want to stay over at my place tonight, doll?"

You could feel the blood rush to your face; a warm incarnadine imbued on the apples of your cheeks. You were surprised you hadn't paid much mind to it earlier, but there was something surprising arousing about his resonant voice; something about it tickled your brain the right way. You tried to stop yourself from letting your thoughts wander too far, after all, you had just gotten out of a relationship with his cousin.

"I didn't mean it in that way! J-Just drop me off home, then!"

"Whatever you wish, doll." Toji grinned teasingly before starting the engine, driving up the neighborhood through the heavy rain. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be noisy but how did ya catch that idiot red-handed?”

“He left his phone unlocked on the coffee table while he was showering,” you sighed heavily, staring outside the window with a somber gaze. “I later found out after reading his messages with his coworker that they’ve been seeing each other for two years. Two years and a half, actually..”

“Good fuckin’ riddance on yer part. I’m surprised that this man could last three years in a relationship, of course he had to fuck up and pull that shit on ya.”

You stared outside the window, feeling the heartache steadily returning the closer the car got to your apartment. Eventually, the car came to a stop, parked across your humble abode.

"Thank you for the ride, Toji. And thanks for the sweater. I'll make sure to return it to you once I get it washed." You said softly, looking at the older man with gratitude. He nodded his head in response, "Anytime, doll. Hope ya feel better soon."

Rolling his windows back up and preparing to leave, you stopped him before thinking. He paused and looked back at you, rolling his windows back down; meeting your flustered gaze. "Forgot anything in the car?"

"Um," you said awkwardly, feeling the heat returning to your face. "Do you wanna drink with me at my place?"

The older man blinked for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, "I didn't know ya were this type of person after a breakup, doll."

"Tojiiii," you whined, embarrassed. "I just don't want to drink alone and drown in my own sorrows. I need someone to talk shit about your cousin with too, you perv."

"Hey, that's yer fault for wording it weirdly." Toji shrugged before turning off the engine and leaving his car. "Though, I can't say no since you asked me so nicely."

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," you said, your voice soft as you walked out of the washroom door, dampened towel in hand as you made your way to the living room, plopping down on the couch next to the older Zen’in, though you made sure you maintained a distance. “It didn't take too long, did I?”

You glanced over at the male endowed with borderline Herculean features, and his eyes quickly met yours. Undoubtedly, you felt shy. You invited him over on a whim, last minute decision.

"Mhm, ya were really quick." Toji replied, smirking at your flustered expression. "There's also no need to be so shy with me, doll. Just think of this as one of our many small talks, but with drinks this time."

You nodded your head shyly before you dug your hands into the plastic bag, bringing out two bottles of beer. Thank goodness they stayed intact after your ignominious fall.

"Give me the bottles," said Toji, "I'll open 'em up for ya."

He made a come hither motion with his large hand, signaling you to give him the beer. Without thinking, your eyes stayed glued on his rough, calloused hands – you shook your head, embarrassed. Complying to his words, you handed him the bottles and he brought each bottle out, one by one, and opened them with ease; each movement was effortless, and a mere reminder of his strength.

He handed you the beer, and you thanked him with a soft grin.

"Cheers," you both said before drinking from the glass bottle, and a sharp sigh immediately left your lips. You looked over to Toji, who drank that beer as if it was water.  You found yourself getting dazed, almost amazed at how effortless this man made drinking alcohol appear. 

"About that idiot, Naoya," Toji began, swirling his bottle slightly, "Am surprised that guy managed to stay in a relationship with ya for so long. That man's never been the type to settle down."

You sighed heavily before letting out a bitter chuckle, "I'm surprised too, and I had to find out the hard way. Plus, he's actually out right now fucking his mistress as we speak. Funny, right?"

You let out a small grumble, taking a large gulp of the beer; ignoring the stinging sensation hitting your throat when you swallowed. Toji leaned back against the sofa, his dark blue eyes staring down at you as he continued drinking the alcoholic beverage.

"How are ya holding up right now, doll? I know damn well that breakups are never easy, especially with that guy."

You shuffled in your seat, you could already feel yourself getting worked up at the mention of your ex.

"To be honest," you spoke slowly, "I'm not as torn as I thought I would. I think I already cried all of those sorrows away, but I'm still heartbroken and bitter. Really bitter."

"Bitter? Do tell me more."

You took another large gulp, letting out another sharp sigh. By then, you were already drinking your second glass – feeling the heat steadily increase in your face. You slammed down the bottle onto the coffee table, an irritated expression plastered across your face.

"This man… hic… had the nerve to say that it's my fault because I didn't satisfy him enough in bed! Says him! He only ever chases after his own orgasm whenever we did it and barely… hic… lets me finish? What the hell!"

Tears were now rolling down your face, surprising the older man. One second you were showing anger and fury, and the next second you were slumped down on the couch as you drowned in your sorrows and heartbreak.

"I-I'm... I was never close to being his priority. I also… hic… found out that he's been spoiling and treating his mistress far more better than I was ever treated in the past two years…hic! How can I be so stupidddd."

"Hey now," you could feel a warm hand patting your back with an unforeseen gentleness, "it's better now that you found out rather than later. You deserve so much better, so don't beat yourself up too much."

The older man's words brought you comfort that you didn't know you needed. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, downing on your second bottle of beer. You didn't realize through your drunken haze that he stiffened up at the sudden contact, but he didn't budge. You reached out for a third bottle, but he stopped you.

"Take it easy there, doll." Toji said. "Yer gonna have a hell of a hangover if you keep that up."

"Don't worry, I am," you said in a sing-song tone, though you still grabbed a hold of the beer bottle. "I'll make sure to drink slowly."

He massaged his forehead before chuckling, "Well you’re quite stubborn.”

You giggled softly through stifled breaths, “I-I can be sometimes… hic. Wanna help open this for me?”

He complied to your request, and opened the beer bottle once more with ease.

"I know it corny an' weird coming from an older guy like me, but believe me when I say that the end of a relationship does not equate to yer worth or that the world is going the end. So, don't beat yerself too hard, better things are about to come." He then paused before sighing. "Ugh fuck me, this is how ya know the alcohol's hitting."

"You don't need to pretend that it's the alcohol, Toji." You said, laughing. "You look more than sober. It even looks like you handle beer like how you drink a bottle of water."

"Anyway," you continued, glancing up at the man bashfully while you drank from the bottle; your throat had already grown accustomed to the stinging sensation of the alcohol, and you could feel your cheeks growing warmer the longer you allowed your mouth to ramble. "I didn't know you were capable of saying such sweet things, Mr. Toji."

He paused for a moment before sighing. 

"It's nothing," replied the man as he swigged the bottle. He wiped his mouth with his arm, exhaling sharply.

"You must've… hic!… had many experiences… hic!… with romances, Toji." You said, taking a sip from the bottle despite the persistent hiccups that escaped your lips.

"What makes you say that?" Toji responded, raising an eyebrow.

"You look like the type to," you replied and Toji laughed. “I realized just now… hic!… that you’re… hic!… good company to have around.”

"Ya think so highly of me, doll."

You looked confused now, tilting your head to the side – looking at the sinewy man deep in thought (as far your alcohol would allow). 

"Are you married? Seeing anyone, at all?"

"Divorced seven years ago, and nope."

"Ah..."

You both drank in unison, however your eyes stayed glued onto the older Zen’in. You felt yourself growing more sweaty despite having just gone out from the shower, your cheeks warm and your brain slowly yet surely getting even more fuzzy. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed, but the number of empty bottles resting atop the coffee table was enough for you to know that it had definitely been a few hours. Your eyes thoughtlessly wandered to his lips wrapped around the bottle; watching as his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp he took, a small bead of sweat rolling down his neck. 

Without even realizing, rather than your beer, you swallowed your saliva. 

“I’m gonna get us some water!” You suddenly stood up from the couch, the sounds of your feet pattering against the hardwood planks echoing throughout the flat and Toji’s eyes followed suit. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You can hear his voice from behind you, though he stayed seated, comfortably, on the couch. You shook your head in response, playfully pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you move an inch, big guy. Your host will take care of everything… hic…!”

Turning around, you resumed to the kitchen with slight staggered movements. Reaching your hand out, you opened the fridge, letting the cool air hit your face that was engulfed with warmth. You sighed softly, feeling even more relaxed as you scanned the refrigerator. Grabbing the water pitcher, you set it aside on the counter and your gaze shifted to the tall cabinet. Unbeknownst to you, Toji’s eyes were glued to you – though, it was mostly to ensure your safety, but he couldn’t help but notice how your shirt rode up when you attempted to reach the cups; your face flushed and your eyes narrowed in concentration. Silently, he took another sip of his beer. He wanted to slap himself. 

“Ya look like you’re struggling, doll.” Toji called out, and you replied with a firm no. You shook your head, though you were really struggling – especially with your lack of balance. With one hand cupping the side of your head, your other arm reaching out to the glass cups resting atop the shelves while you were on your tippy toes, you attempted to reach even further but your feet lost its strength. Just as you were about to brace yourself for impact, a large and warm hand caught you; his arm snaked around your waist and your chest pressed against his well-built chest, and your lips inches away from his. 

You stared up at the man, surprised before blood rushed to the apples of your cheeks; further intensifying the warmth on your skin. 

“Shouldn’t have let ya do all the work when yer balance is already shit,” Toji commented, and you could only watch, flustered, as he extended his other arm to the two cups with effortless movements. You were unsure if it was the alcohol or the flustered emotions rushing through your veins, however you could feel your heart battering against your chest crazily and your cheeks growing warmer. You were also unsure if he had noticed his hand, large and calloused, was underneath the soft fabric of your shirt; his warmth radiating onto your bare skin. As much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t against it one bit.

 “You alright there, doll?” The timbre in his voice brought you back to reality, and you felt your cheeks growing warmer. 

‘Fuck, get it together! You can’t be getting these thoughts freshly out of a breakup!’ You attempted to reason with yourself, but when you glanced over to Toji’s concerned gaze, you honestly believed you were going to melt. This wasn’t your first time talking to the older Zen’in, having spoken to him many times in family functions or simply after crossing paths, though they were no longer than small talk. This felt somewhat different, however it wasn’t in the way you disliked. 

“I-I’m… hic… okay now,” you said shyly, averting your gaze from his. Toji pulled his hand away from your waist, extending his hand towards the water pitcher and filling up the two glasses. He handed you the glass, and you accepted the gesture. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he stared down at you as he drank from the cool water. You fidgeted underneath his gaze, your cheeks growing even more warmer. 

“Are ya feelin’ better now?” Toji questioned you, raising an eyebrow. You nodded your head slowly as you sipped from your glass, “I feel a lot better now, actually.”

“You’re lookin’ like you’re about to burn up.” He then commented before pressing the back of his hand against your forehead in an unforeseen gentleness. “Just as I thought.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak, he beat you to it. “Let’s call it quits for tonight, doll. You should get some rest now..” 

Unexpectedly, he ruffled your hair gently; his thick fingers brushing through your locks as you could only stare up at the man dumbfoundedly. You were just beginning to enjoy his company even more. As embarrassing as it would be to admit (when you’re sober), but it wouldn’t hurt to talk for even longer – even if it wasn’t about Naoya, anything would suffice. 

 “What about you?” You asked him, tilting your head. “Why can’t you spend the night here… hic!… and sober up?”

“No can do, doll.” Toji said, his timbre rubbing your brain in the most satisfying way possible. “Anything can happen since there’s alcohol in our system.”

You could feel your heart hammering against your chest, looking up at the older man who looked like he had just drank water rather than downing two bottles of beer. Absent-mindedly, you grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and he appeared to be taken aback. 

 “B-But… you still shouldn’t drive around… hic!... drunk.” You persisted, but Toji shook his head with a light chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing but a little splash of cold water can fix.” He said before turning over to you, tapping on your forehead. “But you. You’re a bit too far gone.”

Your fingers immediately went to your forehead, covering the one area that the Toji had touched, your cheeks flushed a bright incarnadine. “Still,” you grumbled softly, glaring at the male, “you gotta wash your… hic!... face with cold water before you leave, no matter how sober you may appear.”

“Alright, alright.” Toji cackled, shrugging his shoulders. “You can even watch me, if it makes you feel any better.”

In came the following morning, and you were met with the sight of a familiar blond male with his suitcases in tow. You had just woken up from the couch to see your ex-boyfriend at least fulfilling his one promise, which was to leave your apartment with all his things. You rubbed your eyes, disgruntled at the persistent ache in your head. You didn’t have a moment to hark back to the previous night when all you could feel is your ex-boyfriend’s sharp gaze cutting through you.

 Naoya’s sharp eyes scanned your surroundings, “Were you drinking last night?” 

“Why are you asking me questions you know the answer to,” you grumbled out, stuffing your head into the comfort of your pillow. Naoya scoffed at your response, crossing his arms. “Well, you couldn’t have finished all those bottles yourself. Who were you drinking with? And whose sweater was in your room? It looks like a man’s.”

“All of that is none of your business,” you snapped, your voice still muffled by your pillow. “Are you going to leave now, or what?”

“Tsk,” the blond male clicked his tongue at your sharp response, “are you now sleeping with another man out of spite? You’re no better than I am.”

This fucking man —

Now you felt awake, and you shot up from the pillow — sending your ex a glare that would definitely kill if it could. “I’ll give you another slap on the cheek, ten times harder than yesterday since you’re begging so nicely for it.”

Naoya’s gaze narrowed, his lips forming into a sneer. However, he didn’t say anything. He knew damn well that he wouldn’t want to experience that slap again, or a harder one. 

“And,” you continued, feeling yourself getting more heated the more you spoke, “you absolutely have zero room to talk about spite or being a better person. Remind me where you went off to last night, hm? While I was drowning myself in beer, what were you doing? Oh, that’s right! You were busy fucking your coworker and spent the night with her!”

The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. Just hearing him open his mouth was enough to give you a reason as to why you shouldn’t mourn so much over the loss of this relationship, despite having committed so much of your time and energy into it. Frustrated and beyond annoyed, you massaged your aching forehead with your fingertips. 

“You clearly don’t feel sorry for anything that you did.” You spoke, your voice stern as a feeble attempt to mask your crumbling composure. “Even mustering an apology would suffice, yet you come in and have the audacity to accuse me of sleeping around?”

You paused for a moment, your gaze locked onto the Zen'in. Furrowing your brows, you sighed deeply and frowned. “What’s even worse is that you don’t look sorry.”

As much scorn you harbored for the male who cheated on you, there was undeniably a tinge of sorrow and ache that lingered within the depths of your chest upon making that crestfallen realization. 

Pointing at the door, you didn’t leave your couch but you glared at your ex-boyfriend. “If there’s nothing else you want to say, you can go ahead and leave.”

And just like that, he wordlessly complied — walking out of the place he once called his home after three years, a place where he once promised he’d make many sweet memories with you; all that he left behind now was a poignant silence and another headache, other than that bothersome hangover, that you now had to deal with. Staring blankly at the door where your ex had exited from, you heaved an exasperated sigh. 

In the end, Zen’in Naoya still couldn’t even muster a proper apology – not that you were going to forgive him, anyway. However, three years down the drain was still plenty to take in. But then again, breakups that end on bad terms were usually much easier to move on from, especially that cheater ––

Ping!

A brief noise coming from your cell phone brought you back to reality – cutting you off from your lamentable dwellings, and you snapped your gaze almost immediately to the source of the sound; your hand grasping onto the device, your eyes scanning the screen as you silently read the message. 

TOJI: Recovered from the hangover yet?

You absentmindedly smiled towards your phone; your thumbs already working on a response. 

YOU: barely ahaha YOU: what are you up to now? TOJI is typing… TOJI: Nothing much TOJI: Did Naoya come by and get his things already? YOU: yeah,, he actually woke me up to ask about the sweater and who i was drinking with before he left YOU: i didn’t mention u though, but he was being a total headache about it TOJI: Why not? It would’ve been funny if you did YOU: you wouldn’t want naoya to hop on ur ass about it if i mentioned TOJI is typing… TOJI: He wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me anyway. That guy’s afraid of me YOU: you’re hilarious TOJI: I''m serious. Anyway TOJI: Thoughts on getting yakiniku tonight?

You didn’t realize it sooner, but over the course of days –– weeks, you eventually found yourself growing accustomed to the older male’s company; whether that be in the form of texting, or simply going out for drinks or barbeque –– Zen’in Toji was, without a doubt, clouding your mind. At this point, the thought of the misery your ex had brought upon you had dissipated. However, you wouldn’t deny that there was a wall that was evidently separating yourself from the Zen’in, a boundary that he, himself, had implemented. Oftentimes, it brought you back to an older conversation that you had with Toji; him telling you that he hadn’t truly been seeing anyone since his divorce, which was seven years ago. Even sometimes, you had gotten struck with the random spurts of realization that he was a decade or so older than you; his little nickname for you, every so often, served as a reminder. However, there were moments where you felt like you wanted to cross that line, and whenever you looked at Toji; his lips slightly agape, swallowing his spit as he stared down at you with that gaze –– you were certain that he was thinking of the same thing. This unspoken, yet increasing tension could be cut clean with a knife.

“Here. Get some meat and vegetables.” said Toji. With his chopsticks, he placed the freshly grilled meat and vegetables onto your plate. “What’s on yer mind, doll? Noticed you’ve been dazin’ off for quite some time.”

You shook your head immediately before thanking the older man profusely. “My goodness. I didn’t even realize they were moments away from burning. Thank you!”

Promptly, you threw the borderline broiling piece of meat into your mouth, chewing with tears slowly forming inside your eyes. “Wow, it’s s-so good. I love it.”

“Somethin’s on your mind after all,” Toji remarked, tilting his head off to the side while his midnight blue eyes gazed into yours. You gulped, swallowing the meat silently as you grabbed the glass of water and chugged it. 

“I promise you, it’s nothing really important. It’s just work.” You responded, smiling cheekily as you reached for the grilled broccoli with your chopsticks. You didn’t think you’d have it within yourself to tell him that he was all that you were thinking about – you’d simply drown in embarrassment before you could even utter a word! While you were chewing, you swiftly reached for the meat on the grill and placed it onto Toji’s plate.

 “It’s bigger meat,” you mentioned, “therefore, it’s all yours.”

“Oh? Look at ya bein’ all generous, doll.” he immediately teased you, raising his brows as his lips curled into an amused grin. “Ya weren’t like this the first time we went out for yakiniku.”

“Since when were you so observant?” You grumbled out, fighting the urge to roll your eyes jokingly. 

“I’ve always been observant,” Toji said while he chewed on the meat, swallowing with a satisfied hum. “But yer facial expressions make it so much easier for me. You’re not that great at trying to hide yer thoughts, either.”

You paused, staring at the man with a flabbergasted expression plastered all across your face. “Ya just proved my point,” laughed Toji. 

You closed your lips and pouted, taking another bite of the grilled meat – basking in the smoky flavor as you attempted to fight off the skittish emotions that were about to resurface. Though, you were unable to control the blood that rushed to the apples of your cheeks; heating up your face. “Clearly, what I did just now was on purpose.”

“Besides, what do you think goes on in my mind?” You questioned him, but as soon as those words slipped past your lips – you immediately wished you hadn’t. He sent you a teasing smirk, his eyes staring straight into yours as he uttered those words:

“I don’ think it’s the right time and place for me to say it here, doll. Ya might get a lil’ embarrassed if I lay them out for ya right now.”

Instantly, you could feel your face growing even warmer and you averted your gaze from his. “You’re bein’ mean right now, Toji.”

Then returned the insufferable tension. You fought the urge to squeeze your legs together, worried that the older man might catch on and you reached for another piece of meat and vegetable, chewing onto those two in tandem. Toji stared at you, amused; his head leaning against his hand as he played with the other pieces of food on the grill with the other.

“You’re awfully easy to get a reaction out of,” Toji further commented, chuckling. “It’s cute.”

“At this point, you’re just doing this on purpose!” You complained, blushing heavily at his teasing and he merely shrugged as a response. 

Time passed by quickly, and you were spent; leaning against your chair with your hand resting atop your aching belly –– staring weakly at the older Zen’in who appeared to be in no way affected as he downed the remaining food on the grill. When he met your gaze, he bursted out laughing; cackling, even, at your state.

 “C’mon doll, I think you can handle a lil’ more meat inside ya.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious, or if you’re making an innuendo.” You murmured, your voice course. “But I’m not taking another bite. I’m sooo full.”

“Ya pervert, I am bein’ serious.” Toji retorted, taking the last bite of meat before he gulped down his glass of water. 

While he briefly left the table to pay for the bill, you stayed seated on the chair, staring blankly at the clutter left behind on the wooden table.

 The more you thought about it –– about him, you were left with a feeling of anticipation that you knew wouldn’t be fulfilled. You bit your lips softly, trying to fight back that massive frown that was threatening to appear; you were certain that Zen’in Toji, your ex’s older cousin and nearly more than decade older than you were, saw you no more than just an eating or drinking buddy, or a young woman who was left heartbroken by his cousin. 

“Now, what’s with that long sigh?” A familiar timbre brought you back to reality, your eyes snapping over to his. 

“It’s ‘cause of my stomach,” you replied, laughing it off before you stood up from your chair. You glanced outside and down at your watch, “How long were we out for?”

“Hours,” Toji simply responded and you rolled your eyes. 

You both stepped out of the store, ready to leave until you felt the sensation of small beads of water falling onto your face –– mere seconds later, it began to pour heavy rain. Groaning in pure unadulterated dismay, you both rushed to his car which was across the street; using your arms as means to shield you from the pouring water. 

“I didn’t expect it to rain today, especially like this.” You observed, brushing your fingers through your dampened locks. Toji sighed in response, “To be honest, doll, I dun’ think I could drive you straight home in this weather. I jus’ checked my phone and it said that there’s a bad thunderstorm that’ll last all night  and there’s also a chance of a small flood happening.”

“Ah, that’s alright.” You said. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“There’s an inn nearby and we can spend the night there, if that’s fine with ya.” Replied the Zen’in.

Your face flushed at his suggestion, and Toji immediately took note of it. 

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll sleep on the floor or couch – if there’s one.” Toji reassured you, and you could only nod your head — completely and utterly dumbfounded with the series of lewd thoughts that began to cloud your mind. You and him. Together. Alone. You wanted to smack yourself. Genuinely.

You shuffled in your seat, feeling the heat in your face and between your legs worsen. You tried to distract yourself, silently immersing yourself with the music that was playing on the radio. Then the car came to a halt, and you stared outside the window. It was an average looking inn, nothing too special. Upon finding parking, you both hurried over to the entrance; rushing over to the receptionist.

“Room 261 is on the second floor, to your left. Please enjoy the rest of the night, you two.” 

The moment you found the designated room number and opened the door, you both stood there flabbergasted. The room was decorated in hearts and flowers — even the bed was large and heart-shaped, and on the nightstand, there rested a fuzzy pair of handcuffs, condoms, and bottles of lube. Instinctively, you touched your cheeks with the backside of your hand. Yep, your face is definitely hot. 

Toji covered his face with the palm of his hand, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry, I should’ve known it was a love hotel.”

“Don’t worry,” you laughed it off, “they were being really discreet about it, so I’m surprised. When you look at the exterior, anyone who never went there would’ve also thought it’s a normal inn — totally not a love hotel.”

The moment you both locked gazes, you bursted out laughing.

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggled, “the fact that we actually got into a love hotel is crazy. Damn.”

“Just our luck,” Toji chuckled. “Oh, fortunately there’s a couch over there. The bed’s all yours, doll.”

Plopping down on the bed, you released a relieved sigh. “It’s so comfortable here, Toji. You should try it out, too.”

He slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, and a look of surprise was plastered across his face. “You’re right.”

The bed was large enough to fit the both of you, you pondered to yourself. Your eyes wandered to Toji’s large and sinewy frame, his back facing you as he fumbled with his car keys — his large, calloused fingers tracing along the metal ridges. Undeniably, his fingers were large — thick and long, even. For a brief moment, it almost made you wonder, in your uncouth curiosity, what it would be like to have his hands wander farther…

No. Stop it right there.

‘You horny, horny woman,’ you scolded yourself, mentally smacking your head as you attempted to hide the blush that was moments away from resurfacing. Briefly, you averted your gaze from the older Zen’in, trying to look anywhere but him — it was hard though, especially when this man was quite the eye candy. There was simply no way he didn’t not go out with other women. 

The insufferable tension lingering in the air was another thing you couldn’t ignore, it had been like this for weeks already; naughty thoughts and reveries involving the male came to you nearly every night and as much you tried to ignore it, you still noticed the way he licked the icing off his lips after taking a bite from a dessert, the veins adorning his large hand as he gripped onto the steering wheel, or how his eyes would flicker between meeting your gaze or your lips. 

This was driving you insane. Terribly insane. 

You could feel the weight of the bed lighten, and you turn your head to see Toji standing up from the edge of the bed, making large strides to the couch. Without ever turning his head to face you, he began to speak; his voice had gotten an octave lower, it caught you off guard.

“There ya go again, doll. Are ya even aware of the expressions you’re makin’?” 

“Huh?” You stared at him, dumbfoundedly. “What expressions?”

“Do I really have to say it?” Toji questioned, turning his head slightly to the side and tilted. Your eyes wandered to his lips, glued onto the small scar as he spoke. “I’ll sound a lil’ bawdy, but…” 

He pointed a finger towards you. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like you’re beggin’ to be fucked,” the man stated, his navy blue eyes meeting your flustered ones.

You tensed at his words, feeling a surge of heat overcoming you – his words paired with the timbre in his voice causing a stir within the depths of your abdomen. The atmosphere had changed, the tension was so unbearably thick; you could sense that his composure was also beginning to fall apart.

 “W-What?” You could barely manage to squeak out the words, but the older Zen’in’s gaze didn’t falter. You were, undeniably, aroused – for god knows how long. 

“I’m a pretty observant person,” Toji said, his deep and baritone voice ringing in your ears. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way ya looked at me earlier, and even the weeks before. Even now, you’re aroused. Am I wrong, doll?”

Your breathing had gotten heavier, hitching even. Was Toji that good at reading you, or were you being plain obvious? You didn’t know, nor did you care too much. Either way, whatever he said – he was correct. You were simply too embarrassed to admit it; you bit onto your lip, unable to come up with a response. 

“You gotta speak with yer words, doll.” 

You swallowed your spit, gulping softly. “I… You…”

The way you wanted to dig yourself a hole and shrivel yourself up into a ball. God, this was so embarrassing. 

“I… You…?” The man repeated after you, amusement plastered across his face. You opened your mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. 

“Ugh,” you groaned out, feeling the steams of pure and unadulterated embarrassment leaving your ears. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

You slapped your hands on your face, covering the roseate warmth that seemed to merely worsen as those words left your lips. Upon setting your pride aside, you had finally admitted the embarrassing truth. But, what would come after that? Would he be weirded out and distance himself from you? You averted your gaze from his, you didn’t have it within you to meet his eyes. As aroused as you were, you were also incredibly embarrassed – and even that was an understatement.

You felt his finger tracing your chin, lifting your face to meet his. You didn’t realize he had already made his way back to you, his Herculean build leaning close to yours yet there was, undeniably, an invisible wall that separated the both of you. 

“I tried to think nothin’ of it at first, but…” Toji began, stalling his words a little. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what you told me earlier,” Toji said, his voice low in a murmur; his gaze yet again flickering between your eyes and your lips. You gulped softly, your breath hitching in anticipation. “About Naoya not pleasin’ ya enough in bed. It seems to me you’re feelin’ all pent up now.”

He shot you a teasing grin, “Am I right about that too, doll?”

Your eyes widened, looking at the man in front of you in shock; your mouth agape and your cheeks flushed. “You…”  You attempted to come up with a retort, but all the words that threatened to leave your lips had come to a halt when he raised a brow towards you, his midnight blue gaze looking down at yours.

“Judging by yer reaction, I’m guessin’ I’m right.” 

“Yeah?” You riposted, biting your cheek. “So what about it? If you’re just saying this to make fun of me, then you can just quit… it.”

Your eyes trailed down, your words slowing down to a halt as you caught sight of the large tent growing at the center of his trousers. It’s big.

“I wouldn’t be sayin’ all this if I only intended to tease ya,” Toji replied, his voice slightly hoarse as he briefly followed your gaze. “But I’m glad it’s confirmed that we see eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye? Does that mean…” Your eyes stayed glued onto his bulge, and Toji turned his head away; a bright roseate blush tinting the tips of his ears. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “It’s exactly what ya think it is, Y/N. It’s ya fault for being so fuckin’ cute.”

You stared back to his face, a look of wanton adorning across your face as you eyed his lips. Licking your lips, you gathered all the remaining courage you had –– cupping the older man’s face in your hands and bringing him into a soft and brief kiss, your lips locking for a few seconds before pulling away.

“I-I didn’t think you’d be seeing me in this type of light, either––”  your words were abruptly put to a halt when he locked lips with yours once more, this time with plenty more fervor; his large hand cupping the back of your head to pull you closer, if it was even possible. Tongues, forthwith, were intertwined as you followed the male’s lead; his well-rehearsed movements harbored from the years of experience you forgot he had. His lips were on yours, yet you felt as if your whole entire body was burning up.                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Your fingers traveled to his clothed chest, gripping onto the fabric tightly as you struggled to keep up with his movements. Without ever pulling away, he leaned closer; his weight slowly pushing your body down onto the mattress, a soft sigh leaving your lips the moment your back made contact with the comforts of the mattress. 

The wet sounds of your lips interlocking echoed throughout the room, along with the soft noises of your whimpers and moans escaping your lips as Toji’s hands wandered; leaving every curve of your body untouched, and the tip of his fingers snaking underneath the hem of your jeans. You wrapped your arms around the man’s neck, your fingers dancing through his raven locks. You barely remembered the last time you had a kiss this passionate.

Eventually, you both pulled away; revealing a thin string of saliva connecting both your lips together and anything else that escaped your lips were harbored breaths. You kissed him. And it felt so good. Pressing your fingers to your lips, your eyes traveled over to Toji’s –– it was evident that his self restraint was merely hanging on by a thin thread. You bit your lips at the thought.

“You’re makin’ it so hard for me to hold myself back,” hissed Toji, wincing slightly at the discomfort within his trousers. 

“You don’t need to,” you replied, your voice was quiet yet it was dripping with arousal. “I don’t want you to.”

Toji raised a brow at your words, but he couldn’t deny – those exact words did cause some sort of damage. “Ya sure, doll? I don’ think I’ll be able to stop myself once I start.”

You sat back up from the bed, your hand caressing his cheek; your finger tracing the small scar ingrained in the corner of his swollen lips. 

“Well, I don’t want you to stop either.” You murmured, your voice soft and you shifted your gaze to the tightened area of his trousers. “I can help with that, too.”

Taciturnly, you brought your palm to his lap, giving his enlarged bulge a soft squeeze; immediately eliciting a soft groan from Toji as a response to your sudden and bold movements. 

He muttered your name, though it sounded more of a warning than anything. You squeezed it once more, shooting the male a playful smile; your fingers playing around with the small metallic zipper before you slowly zipped it down. 

“Can I?” You questioned him. It was clear you were ogling his bulge beneath, excited to explore for more; your eyes were wide in lewd curiosity, barely able to control the arousal and desperation within your movements. Toji found all of that, somewhat, endearing. 

“Do whatever ya want, doll.” He huffed out. “But ya also got to give me somethin’ nice to look at and play with.”

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt before they snaked underneath the fabric; the sensations of his rough and calloused fingers touching your bare skin – his blunt nails grazing your waist. You raised your arms up, and with effortless movements, he slipped the fabric off you. For a brief moment, you considered hiding yourself – a wave of shyness suddenly overtaking you, but all that stopped when you felt his fingers, once again, grazing your bare skin; slowly tracing over the cups of your bra. 

Your breath hitched, and a surge of heat rushed to your face. This was it. You were going to have sex with Zen’in Toji. However, undeniably, you felt like a virgin around the older male. His fingers lingered across your back, unclasping the undergarment with ease; he watched, with amused eyes, as it fell from your breasts — revealing your soft mounds. Unawarely, your arms rushed to cover your breasts – but his strong hands held them back.

“Don’t ever think about covering ya self, doll.” Toji said, his . “I love the view I’m seein’ right now, so don’t be shy to show me everything.”

You tried to suppress any noise that threatened to leave your lips, biting onto the skin; your body writhing underneath the man’s soft, yet teasing strokes on your breasts, most particularly your nipples. You leaned closer into his touch, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as his fingers teased the erect buds –– twirling, pinching and pulling; your mind was going blank to his teasing ministrations. 

“You have such pretty breasts,” Toji commented, pinching your nipples with his index and pointer fingers before he began to twirl the bud. You bit onto your lip even harder this time; your legs squeezed tightly together as you attempted to satiate your arousal in silence. 

“T-Toji,” you stammered out, “I’m s’pposed to be the one pleasing you first.”

“I can wait,” he grinned, licking a small stripe of saliva across your breast. “I needa show these girls some love first.”

You couldn’t even utter a response, all that came out were stifled moans and whimpers — your hand clasped against your mouth while your other was nestled in his raven locks. Zen’in Toji was, indeed, showing them love. Lots of love. The insufferable ache building up between your legs seemed to merely worsen, not even squeezing them together was enough to satiate it. You were far too aroused — melting immediately at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensations.

Toji’s eyes never left your face; analyzing every micro reaction your face made, every single move he made felt as though it was rehearsed — a well one, in fact; effortlessly finding the spots that elicited the most delicious reactions out of you with both his tongue and hands. He cupped your breast and gave the mound a squeeze, and he eventually pulled his mouth away from your nipple; leaving behind a thin string of saliva that connected his lips and your skin. If you were standing, your knees would’ve already buckled on the spot. 

Breathing heavily, you softly pushed the older male away from your body. “It’s your turn.”

You slowly lowered yourself, your hands tracing down his shoulders, his chest and then to his abdomen; your nimble fingers unbuttoning, thus unzipping his trousers. You didn’t realize you were holding in your breath, while trying your darndest to control your heart that was hammering rapidly against your chest. 

“Breathe, doll.” Toji’s baritone voice wasn’t much help, but you breathed in — then you heaved a shaky sigh. Gulping, you took in the sight of the sheer size of his shaft hiding beneath the thin fabric. 

By the time your hands reached his boxers, your fingers snaking underneath the hem of his underwear; you pulled the fabric down, slipping it down his muscular thighs — you were unsure if you were being obvious, but you attempted to stop your mouth from watering. 

“It’s big,” you thought aloud, slapping your mouth immediately after. Toji chuckled deeply.

“For a woman who’s mostly shy, ya certainly have no filter.” Toji teased, lightly slapping his hardened cock against your cheek. “How cute. Do ya think you’ll be able to take it in ya mouth, doll?”

You flushed a bright incarnadine at his words, “Were you always this crude?”

Wrapping your hand around his girthy shaft, you gulped softly as you slowly stroked his member; up and down, up and down — your eyes were locked onto his face, taking in every micro-expressions that the older Zen’in was making, though it was evident that he was trying to suppress them; he was biting his lips, though he still had that sexy grin plastered across his face. For the longest time, you weren’t aware that Zen’in Toji had this obnoxiously lewd side of him, and you also didn’t know that you could be so fucking aroused because of it. 

‘Will he fit inside me?’ You asked yourself, nearing your lips closer to his cock. You licked a long stripe across his cock, circling the soft muscle around his tip before sucking on it. Toji immediately reached his strong hand to your locks, giving them a soft tug. 

“Fuck,” he hissed softly, “I almost forgot how good this feels. You’re so fuckin’ good with your mouth, doll.”

Breathing through your nose, you slowly took him inside your mouth; feeling the small beads of tears building up the lower you went down on him, your nose pressed against his pubes. It was difficult to breathe — he was just too fucking big! However, the loud groan of your name leaving his lips was more than enough as motivation to keep going; circling your hand around the area your mouth couldn’t reach, and you stroked his cock in languid movements. 

Each noise — grunts, hitched breaths, or groans — that escaped his lips, you could feel yourself growing even wetter; a puddle of arousal dampening your underwear. You continued to bop your head onto his cock, drool dripping down your cheeks as you attempted to take him deeper. You knew you shouldn’t have pushed yourself too much –– you could barely remember the last time you’d done something this lewd, but you couldn’t help yourself. When there was Zen’in Toji in front of you, feeding your hungry mouth with his fat cock, there was simply no way you’d say no. 

The obscene noises of your mouth showing love towards his cock echoed throughout the room; your soft gagging, whimpers, and the slobberish noise your mouth made each time you bobbed your head lower made it nearly impossible for the older man to not buck his hips into your poor lips. The turbulent rainstorm showering outside had long drowned out — the sole sound of Toji’s little grunts and groans lingered in your head; hungry to please him even more.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” Toji grunted, his hands traveling to your breasts to give your nipples a tight pinch. You clenched your eyes shut, whimpering softly with his cock deep inside your throat; writhing underneath his touches, every graze of his fingers brought you closer and closer to the brink of insanity. You squeezed your legs together tightly, bucking your hips slightly as you continued to please him. “You’re pleasin’ me so well, doll.”

“Ah—mmph…!” You let out a surprised moan, snapping your eyes open to stare at the raven-haired male as he pulled and twirled the erect bud between his rough fingers. Your grip tightened around his hips, and upon pulling away from his shaft, you gave the tip a good suck –– grinning at yourself when you felt Toji’s body twitch at your manipulation; his breath hitching at the shocks of pleasure rushing through his veins as his fingers’ squeezed onto your mound. A line of praises escaped his lips in the form of grunts and mutters, his hand cupping your cheek; his thumb softly stroking the tears away. 

“Do ya even realize how arousing ya look right now?” Toji’s deep baritone voice rang in your ears as he bucked his hips into your face. He threw his head back, a mix of a hoarse chuckle and grunt leaving his lips. “You’re doin’ so good, doll. Keep on goin’.” 

Continuing on with your ministrations, you used both your hands to stroke his dick while you pressed your lips against his tip; bobbing your head down his tip while your hands made twisting motions as you fondled with his girth. You glanced up towards Toji, awaiting some sort of praise –– and he wasted no time; the thrusts of his hips had begun to stagger and a loud groan of your name escaped his lips, coating the insides of your mouth with thick ribbons of white. Pulling away from his length, your eyes returned its focus to the older Zen’in; locking eyes with his as you swallowed his cum, feeling the warm liquid trickle down your throat. 

Heavy breaths echoed through the room, Toji’s soft pants mirroring yours; his eyes gazed into yours wantonly and his fingers cupping your chin briefly before he leaned back in for a third kiss. Locking lips and tongues intertwined, he lifted the shirt off his body with ease; revealing his chiseled build. Panting in between kisses, your fingers trailed down his neck – traveling down his chest, and back up to his raven locks. 

His hand trailed lower to your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping effortlessly as he pulled the denim past your ass; his thick fingers grazing against your cheeks, slowly snaking underneath the thin fabric of your panties — shivering, you rocked your hips into his hand when he slid a finger across your slick folds. His breath hitched a little, pulling his lips away from yours. 

“I didn’t even put a finger yet, but yer drenchin’ it already.” He commented, and you could only watch — in both embarrassment and unadulterated arousal — as he licked your juices off his fingertip. 

His hands returned to the denim fabric hanging on to your thighs, pulling them down along with the thin fabric of your underwear. Without uttering another word, he brought his hand between your thighs — spreading them open. Midnight blue eyes locked onto your bare cunt, his mouth nearly salivating at the sight of your arousal dripping down your hole. Glancing down, he was, once again, fully erect. 

Extending your arm to his shaft, Toji had stopped you — though, not with words, but with the abrupt movements of his arms hooking around your thighs; pulling your hips closer to his face. 

“W-Wait––A-Ah!” The moment you felt his tongue prodding at your folds, your eyes rolled back and a sharp moan escaped your lips; your fingers immediately finding solace in his messy, black hair. Toji didn’t seem to listen, however. His tongue slid up and down your folds before pressing his lips against your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking harshly whilst flicking his tongue against it.

“Oh my––fuck! Toji!” You mewled out, arching your back and you could feel yourself convulse as he continued to suck and lick messily at your cunt. “T-There’s no way you didn’t sleep with anyone after your divorce,” you stuttered in between moans, “you –– mmph! Hah – y-you have to be lying! You eat pussy too good – AH!”

The older man grunted against your folds, his canines gently grazing your swollen clit. You writhed, your hips twitching in response. 

“What are you on, doll? I never lied to ya. Not one bit.” Toji replied, his voice muffled while he continued to stuff your face into your juicy cunt. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt this typa pleasure.”

With his tongue, he licked another long strip across your drenched folds – humming in delight; the timbre of his voice sending vibrations onto your sensitive clit. You bit onto your lip, staring at Toji in lewd desperation while you bucked your hips against his face. The pleasure you felt was surreal; nothing you had ever felt before. It was addicting. You could feel the pressure pitting in your stomach growing warmer – heavier, more insufferable. 

“I-I’m close,” you warned, digging your nails into his scalp and he let out a soft grunt, eating your pussy with plenty more fervor. 

“Don’ come yet,” Toji said, “hold on for lil’ more longer for me, doll.”

You gulped, nodding at his request. Closing your eyes shut tightly, you tried your darndest to not succumb to the pleasure that was washing over you like strong, persistent waves. Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come! Your toes curled, your eyes opening wide in surprise when you felt his two fingers, without any effort, slide into your drenched pussy –– his fingers stretching you out so deliciously; your walls clamped down onto his thick fingers that were knuckles deep inside your cunt. 

“Don’t come,” Toji warned you, and you could only stare at him with your heavy-lidded gaze –– too fucked out to care. You rocked your hips against his large hand, a string of incoherent moans and praises escaping your lips each time he fucked his fingers into you; his movements were fast and profound, eliciting such wet and lewd noises from your drenched hole. 

“Hm–– T-Toji,” you mewled loudly, throwing your head back against the plush of the pillows; your hands –– one gripping tightly against the wrinkled fabrics of the duvet cover, and the other tangled in the strands of Toji’s mane. “Ahn! P-Please let me come. You’re making me feel so… good..!”

Toes curling, another moan ripped out from your throat, your hips convulsing as he brought his mouth down to your swollen bud –– flicking circles and wrapping his lips around your clit repeatedly, all whilst fucking your pussy with his fingers as if he would with his dick (in your imaginations); curling his fingers, a loud whimper fell from your lips, your hips rocking desperately against his hand as his fingertips would kiss your sweet spot. 

“P-Pl-Please,” you could only murmur out, your whole entire body overwhelmed with pleasure and ecstasy. You could feel your eyes rolling back, your whole entire body writhing as he continued on with his ministrations – his fingers fucking you so well, hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy. His precise, yet profound movements were making your mind melt, along with the rest of your body. You could barely recount a memory where you came due to someone’s manipulation, often having to cater to your own needs to satiate the need for pleasure. However, now that you were experiencing it now; it was as if shocks of electricity were pulsing throughout your body –– your whole body growing sensitive, yet wanting more. 

The mixed sounds of his tongue sloppily making love with your clit paired with the wet noises of his fingers fucking into your hole, along with your mewls and the male’s sexy grunts filled the room. The persistent pressure growing in the pits of your lower abdomen was growing all the more unbearable, a new, foreign feeling began bubbling the more you tried to stop yourself from coming on the spot. It was getting even harder to hold it in now, you swore you could feel yourself burst.

“Fuck, doll.” Toji said, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy clenching tightly around his two fingers curled inside you, watching your juices trickle down your hole. “Look at me when you come, ‘kay? Look at the man that’s gonna make ya come hard.” 

You were completely under his submission, your eyes – though heavy-lidded – locked onto his midnight blue eyes; giving him a pleading look. He stared up at you, his lips locked around your clit and his fingers mercilessly doing their work on you. This sensation was something that you had never felt before – panicked, your fingers grasped onto his locks in a vain attempt to pull him away.

“T-Toji!” You whimpered his name, urgency evident in your voice. “I think I-I’m gonna pee!”

“Let it go,” Toji hummed, both his mouth and fingers continuing to pleasure you – edging you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Come for me, doll.”

And so you did, a loud cry of his name rolling off your tongue as your back arched; toes curled and your hips convulsing against his face –– the warm juices spraying on his face and his hands, drenching his skin. A hitched groan escaped his lips, and he rubbed your clit with the palm of his hand; eliciting more of your juices to coat his hand while you twitched beneath his touches, strained moans leaving your lips as you rode out your orgasm. 

“Hah,” you heaved a breathy sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling for a brief moment before you finally noticed the puddle you left behind after your release, evidenced by the dampened sheets underneath you. Blood rushed to your cheeks, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed of, doll.” Toji grinned, the gentle grazes of his fingertips lingering onto your soaked thighs. “If anything, it’s fuckin’ hot. Was it your first time squirtin’ like that?”

You nodded your head, suddenly feeling shy once more. “Mhm. I can’t remember a time when I came this hard — let alone came from someone’s touch.”

“Damn,” Toji said, biting back a haughty grin. “Didn’t expect Naoya to be that much of a disappointment. But then again, it’s not too big of a surprise.”

“I’ll make ya feel much better,” he added, a smirk adorning his face while his arm extended to the nightstand — reaching for the packet of rubber, but you stopped him; your hands cupping his face as you made the man face you. 

“You don’t need to use it,” you said softly, your voice soft as you could feel the blood rushing back to your face. You glanced down at his cock, your mouth nearly salivating as you watched the girth jerked slightly in the air; a small amount of his pre-cum trickling out. You were right, this man was indeed an eye candy — the most delicious one, in fact. “I’m on the pill.”

He stroked his fat cock languidly, his lustful eyes locking onto yours. “You sure about that doll?”

You nodded your head rapidly, it was almost foolish how excited you appeared. However, you were too horny to care. You needed this man inside you, desperately. Hooking your arms underneath your knees, you spread your legs apart for the older man to see — and he was instantly hooked; a hitched breath escaping his lips as he locked his gaze onto your drenched and needy hole — and your face too, looking so fucking lewd; the wanton look in your eyes begging him to fuck. A hoarse grunt escaped his lips, enamored at the heavenly sight. 

“Fuck me, Toji.” Pure arousal was laced in your voice as you uttered those words, your tone almost pleading.

Just how could he ever say no to that?

A sharp gasp left your lips when he pulled your legs closer to his hips, his large palms pushing your thighs back as he aligned his cock with your needy heat. You glanced down, lips quivering in anticipation as you watched him further prep you for his girth. He rubbed his thumb across your folds briefly, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “You’re still soakin’ wet, doll. I doubt we’d even need lube at this point.”

He inserted a finger briefly before pulling away, laughing at how your body immediately twitched at his touch. 

“You gotta relax for me, ‘kay?” Toji adjured, pressing the tip of his cock against your soaking entrance before slowly entering. Your arms immediately reached out, your hands finding solace around his chiseled back; your nails slightly digging into his skin, your body reeling at the stretch. He was too fucking big, and he only inserted the tip! The feeling of being filled up to the brim was incomparable to your fingers — you were going to melt. 

“Relax, doll.” repeated Toji, his voice strained. “You’re suckin’ me in.”

He nestled his face into your neck, peppering kisses and little suckles; thrusting his hips deeper and deeper. Small beads of sweat trickled down his neck as he reached halfway deep inside you, relishing in the way your walls clamped down onto his girth so tightly.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, closing his eyes shut as he reached the hilt – the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix. A shaky whimper left your lips, your arms wrapping tightly around the older Zen’in’s neck.

“You good?” He asked you, his face hovering yours. You nodded, pressing a small kiss on the corner of his lips as you softly rocked your hips against his — a small moan ripping from your throat when his cock grazed your sweet spot as he pulled away slightly, leaving just the tip inside before he slammed his hips back into yours; evoking a loud scream that ripped from your throat, your walls squeezing him like a vice as you trembled underneath his body. 

“Shit, doll.” Toji cursed under his breath, a coarse chuckle shortly leaving his lips. “Cumming, already?”

His calloused fingers traced over your hips, thus gripping onto your waist; his nails dug into your skin – his resolve crumbling by the second. 

“You can take another one, right doll? For me?” Toji questioned you, raising a brow towards you; watching you attempt to utter a response, but merely trembling as a result when he began moving his hips once more; relishing in the way your body reacted to his –– your hips trembling underneath his, your velvety walls clamping down on him – all whilst giving him a pleading look; your cheeks flushed and your eyes blown in lust. 

He chuckled, licking his lips. “Do ya even realize how lewd ya look right now?” 

He thrusted his hips roughly into yours, his fat cock sliding in and out of your soaked walls in ease. You stuffed your face into his shoulder, biting onto his collarbone to stifle the myriads of moans that threatened to leave your trembling lips. 

“Your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight,” Toji said, purring as he rocked his hips into yours. “Like the way I’m stretchin’ your little hole out, doll?”

“O-Oh my god,” you whimpered into his neck, your nails digging into his skin; your voice jumpy from each rough thrust Toji made as he pistoned his cock in and out of your cunt; squeezing him back in each time. Each thrust he made, your body bounced along with it -– sliding onto the mattress; he made it his mission to fuck you silly. Jaws slacked and erotic groans escaping his lips, his nails digging into your hips as he continued on with his relentless pace; relishing in the way your body meld into his, your mouth agape as all the words that left your words would be incoherent. It was all so arousing, fucking you into an incoherent mess whilst you begged him for more.

You closed your eyes for a mere moment, reveling in the delightful pleasure — but with a rough thrust, the tip of his cock hitting that spot so deliciously, you shot your eyes wide open with a sharp gasp. Toji’s hand cupped your cheek before squeezing them, his dark eyes staring down at yours with a look of warning. 

“Hey, doll — open yer eyes, and don’t ya fuckin’ dare look away. Look at the man who’s fuckin’ you good, yeah?” He warned, nearing his face to yours — your lips merely inches apart. The husky, strained timbre in his voice sent waves of arousal throughout your whole entire body. Nodding your head eagerly, you could hardly utter a response, any noise that managed to escape your throat were in the forms of moans and incoherent praises. 

Your mind was going blank, overwhelmed with pleasure and ecstasy. You were, quite literally, on cloud nine. The pleasure you felt was simply incomparable, and you could only feel yourself drown in it. Rolling your eyes back, another breathy moan escaped your lips; your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. The pit broiling in your stomach returned, and you could feel it building back up rapidly. 

“Mm—Fuck! I-I’m…” You tried to say in between moans, your body jumping up in tandem to the man’s powerful thrusts. “T-Toji… Ngh! I’m so close — you’re fucking me so good… Ah!”

Your voice alone was nearly enough to get the man to cum, but he relented. He bit his lips and clenched his jaw, reveling in the ecstatic sensations.

“Fuck, doll.” Toji mumbled out a curse, clenching his jaw. He dug his nails deeper into your waist, taking it all within him to not cum right then and there — especially when your pussy was squeezing him so nicely. A strained moan escaped your lips, riding out your orgasm; your arms pulling the man close. Just as when you had thought you could have a moment to recover, his strong arms had lifted you up from the bed — manhandling you, and you shortly found yourself on your knees; bent over with your ass high up in the air.

Smack!

Moaning, your body jumped at the stinging sensation of his palm making contact with your ass, feeling the heat radiate across the skin. Though, within seconds, your body melted to his touch; his strong hands caressing and squeezing your derrière, eliciting a soft hum that left your lips —

“O-Oh!” You pressed your lips together, your eyes immediately rolling to the back of your head when he thrusted his cock back in – drenched in all your juices as he effortlessly slid back in; reaching the hilt, his tip brushing against your cervix as he rocked his hips back and forth; his cock grazing your sweet spot with each thrust he fucked into you. Stuffing your head in the comforts of the pillow, you were getting even more sensitive to his touches; every caress from his fingertips sent shocks of pleasure throughout your whole entire body.

Stifled moans escaped your lips, drool trickling down your lips as you gave in to pleasure; inching closer and closer to your release each time he rocked his hips against yours in an unforgiving pace. It was almost as if he was fucking you to impregnate you — his brawny arms wrapped tightly around your waist; pulling you away from his cock before he pulled you back down, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. The many months spent feeling so sexually frustrated had melted away in this instant; the bed squeaked beneath your bodies, his thrusts relentless as he led you closer and closer to nirvana. 

“Ah, shit. You feel so fuckin’ good, doll” You could hear Toji’s grunts from behind you. “Hah, this pussy’s all for me, yeah? Hah––Mm…”

“Mmm… Fuck, yes! ‘S all for you, Toji — Ah!” You replied through stifled moans, your voice muffled by the pillow pressed against your face. “Y-You’re fucking me so deep…!”

“Atta girl,” Toji hummed and despite being unable to see him in that moment, you knew very well that he had a smug smirk tugged at the corners of his lips while he continued to fuck you.

You lifted your head slightly from the pillow, turning your face slightly towards Toji –– a look of concentration was plastered across his face; beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck, strands of his hair stuck onto his forehead, his teeth gritted against one another. Fuck, he was too sexy. Loud mewls left your mouth, thrusting your hips into his cock as you desperately chased after your release.

“K-Kiss me, Toji.” You said, your voice pleading. An abrupt moan escaped your lips shortly after, followed with a small whine when you felt his large hand wrap around your throat –– hoisting you up slightly while he pistoned his cock inside you, and he pressed his lips against yours; muffling the loud moans and whimpers that tumbled out of your mouth as he tangled his tongue with yours. He traveled his hand below your abdomen, his calloused fingertips rubbing firm circles against your sensitive bud — his lips not once ever leaving yours. You whined in his lips, feeling yourself losing strength in your arms. However, with his one arm hooked around your chest, he held your body up as he continued to fuck and rub your pussy. You were about to melt.

This all felt too fucking good. 

“Ah! Mmm—Ngh! I-I’m gonna come again—! I… Hah… Fuck… ‘m so fucking close — please, Toji. I wanna come so fucking bad—!” You whined in his mouth, bucking your hips desperately against his; your legs twitched each time his hips met yours, hitting that sweet spot each time he fucked his fat cock inside your velvety walls. “O-Oh my god, this feels s’fucking goooood.”

“Yeah?” Toji queried, groaning at your words, and you nodded your head eagerly. Suddenly, your face was once again pressed to the pillows; his large hand pinning your head in place while the other returned to your clit — rubbing rough circles on the sensitive bud as he rutted his hips into yours with an unwavering fervor.

“Shit. Come for me then, doll.” He grinned, clenching his jaw as he slammed his hips into yours, driving your body forward on the mattress. 

The lewd noises of his hips rocking into yours, mixed with your wanton cries and his groans filled the room; only increasing in volume the closer you were towards reaching your orgasm. Given his staggered thrusts, you were certain he was also close.

“Mmm––Toji..” You mewled his name in between your needy whimpers and moans. “Hah! Ngh… Cum inside me…Ah! Want you… Mmm… to fill me up.” 

Toji’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace as he fucked you arduously; his lips latching onto your collarbone, peppering a line of kisses and love bites. 

A loud cry ripped from your lips, your whole entire body trembling as your orgasm washed over you; your eyes rolling to the back of  your head as you arched your back against his chest in pure bliss — your hips convulsing as your juices, once again, sprayed all over his cock and the mattress. The raven-haired man tightened his grip on your breasts, practically squeezing the mound as he succumbed to the rhapsodies of his release.

“Oh, fuuuck.” Toji let out a drawn out groan, slumping his body atop yours as the tip of his cock slammed against your cervix, coating your walls with thick layers of white, warm fluid. Breathing heavily and as small grunts escaped his lips, his brows furrowed at the way your walls clenched tightly around him in an attempt to milk him dry. Languidly, he pulled out of your heat, his dark eyes glued onto the masterpiece he had created –– watching his seed trickle down your hole. Grinning, he stuck his finger back in, pushing his cum back inside your wet folds. 

Heavy breaths filled the room, then returned the noises of the beads of rain smacking against the window. He glanced back up at you, his gaze locked onto your flushed face before he leaned in, pressing a chaste peck on your lips and slumping on the bed next to you.

“Are you feelin’ alright, doll?” Questioned Toji, caressing his fingers against your cheek. You nodded in response, cracking an enormous smile. 

“I feel better than ever,” you said, nuzzling your head into his neck; your arms snaking around his muscular arm. “I loved every moment of it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Toji smirked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, placing it behind your ear. “Me, too.”

He shortly left the bed, making wide strides towards the washroom –– returning with a towel in his hand. Reaching out for the towel, you were about to thank him but he stopped you; his hands softly pushing you back down on the mattress.

 “Oomph…!” Was the sound you made as your back made contact with the soft mattress, and you snapped your gaze to Toji’s.

“Lemme take care of you, doll. You don’ gotta worry bout anythin’ else.” 

You sighed in relaxation, relishing in the sensations of the soft and warm towel pressed against your skin; cleaning off the sweat and excess juices. “Thank you, Toji.” 

He replied with a low hum, his hands caressing your body in a newfound tenderness. Your heart swelled at the gesture, your lips cracking a soft smile as you continued to watch the older man take good care of you and your worn out body. 

“If you’re not feelin’ too sore yet, care to join me in the shower after this?”As if all the fatigue had instantly evaporated from your body, you had never uttered yes so fast until this very moment.

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 !

Naoya couldn't believe his eyes, his body frozen in place like a deer in headlights as he stared into the small crack of the door of the dressing room, his eyes unable to peer away from the sight of his older cousin fucking his ex-girlfriend like a madman; his flushed ears picking up on the lewd sounds of your stifled mewls paired with the squelching noises of both your bodies connecting together. His mouth was agape, he had never heard you make such a sound — filled with wanton, let alone seen you make an expression so obscenely lewd.

 He glanced down at his own trousers, noticing the ache that was beginning to grow beneath his boxers. Shit.

When he first stumbled across you at his cousin, Zen’in Mai’s wedding reception with Airi clinging closely onto his arm, the last thing he expected was to see you by his cousin’s side  — and what was even more frustrating was how Toji wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side without breaking eye contact. It was almost as if Toji was mocking him, especially with that smug smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. 

No words were exchanged between you and the blond male, there wasn’t any need to. 

Naoya had thought nothing of it, at first. After all, it had been months since you had both taken your separate ways; he immediately made his relationship with his coworker official. Although Airi could be extremely clingy at times, he felt happy — at ease, even. After all, he could finally love his woman out in the open without any more shame. Though, after the initial encounter with you and Toji, he never crossed paths with you again during the reception. He could only stare from the distance, watching you happily chat with both Maki and Mai for a brief moment before he noticed a bright pair of eyes peering at him, and he shifted his gaze onto his girlfriend’s.

An hour had nearly passed, but Naoya was, undeniably, growing the biggest urge to simply walk out of the reception and head on home. While everyone busied themselves on the dance floor, chatting away with the other guests, or getting their nth plate of the night, Naoya had excused himself to the washroom. 

Strolling down the empty hallways, his eyes scanned around the corridor to look for any familiar restroom signs — the blaring music playing that the venue rang in his ears. He stuck his hands into his pocket, feeling the irritation slowly getting to him. But then, all those feelings of growing frustration came to an abrupt halt when he heard your voice and that of another man’s. He lifted his head, tilting it over to the side in curiosity. There was noise coming from the dressing room, the door up ahead, and he could see a little bit of light peeking through the door. 

“Babe,” Naoya could hear your playful whines through the door, “I-I don’t think we should do this here..! What if someone sees us?”

“Then let them see us. This is ya fault ya know?” Toji said, his voice low. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed you sneakin’ around, pressing yer ass against my dick? There’s only so much patience I can take in, doll.”

He could hear you stifle a moan, letting out a sharp gasp as Toji thrusted his hips into yours.

“You dirty girl, look at how yer pussy’s grippin’ so nicely around my cock. You love my cock, dont’cha?”

“Mhm—Ah! Yes, baby!” You moaned pathetically, taking everything within you to control your volume. 

Naoya’s hand immediately slapped over his mouth, feeling the blood rush to his face. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten closer to the door — he could either 1) turn around to leave and return to the reception, or 2) leave to continue searching for the bathroom. Either way, the best course of action was to leave, yet he still found himself standing in front of the door — staring between the small crack in complete awe at the sight before him. 

Toji had you perched up atop the wooden dresser, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he slammed his hips into your drenched heat; his hands snaked underneath your dress, squeezing your ass as he pulled you closer unto his cock. You writhed, throwing your head back as you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head; your mind was going numb due to the pleasure your older boyfriend was giving you — stretching your pussy out in the most delicious way possible. 

“Y-You’re so fucking big, baby…” You mewled out, a sharp gasp leaving your lips with each thrust he slammed his fat cock into you; evoking obscene noises of your hips meeting each other. “I-I wan’ more, please… baby—!”

His mouth was agape, he had never heard you make such a sound — filled with wanton, let alone seen you make an expression so obscenely lewd; your face all flushed, your eyes clouded in unadulterated lust as drool trickled down your lips. 

 Naoya glanced down at his own trousers, noticing the ache that was beginning to grow between his legs. 

“Shit,” he mumbled out, unable to control the blood rushing to both his face and his erection. He should’ve run away –– he had to, but for some reason his feet stayed planted on the ground and his eyes were unable to look away from the pornographic scene; your hands all tangled up in his older cousin’s raven locks, his lips and tongue messily locked with yours — muffling your needy moans as he continued to fuck you in a relentless pace, the head of his cock kissing your cervix each and every time. 

Each noise that was elicited from your lips sent shocks of arousal straight to his heat, and he gritted his teeth. He knew this was wrong — hell, it even felt wrong. Yet, his feet wouldn’t budge. 

Shiiiiit.

𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐎. . .

You aren’t exactly sure whether or not you should be offended or embarrassed that your anticipation had lead you to hope for something more.

Actually, it could be the latter.

The past fifteen minutes was spent scrubbing at his Herculean back; your dainty knuckles already aching and your palms slick with the azukitogi soap. 

He’s yet to ask you to join him in the steaming water.

No. You shake your head, the motion sending a few dampened hair strays against your flushed cheeks, as if doing so can usher such thoughts away. 

The steam coming from the iwaburo is dense, the thin silk clings to your dewy skin. Kneeling on the warm stone, you assist him in reaching places he supposedly could not reach just like how a dutiful wife would help her husband. However, your mind wanders off again — no matter how much the lack of acknowledgement from your husband dismays you. 

Your focused gaze traces the thick, dark markings on his back. They look nearly identical to lightning, you think to yourself. You watch as the tattoos flex and distort over each movement of his broad shoulders. 

“Your hands slowed,” he suddenly comments, turning his head slightly to meet your eyes with his.

You bite your lip for a brief moment and force a smile, “Apologies, my Lord. I just need a minute to recuperate.”

“Hm,” his reply is curt as he turns his head away from you, indifference evident in his tone. “See to it.”

You try to mask your rising frustration, the soft sponge trembling in the palms of your hand. You were given up to the King of Curses for the sake of political power, yes — but, first and foremost before that, you were raised as a noblewoman. How could he treat you as anything lesser — to be treated like a common servant while you, his wife, scrubs at his back undoubtedly is a sting at your pride. 

What makes you feel even worse is the cold realization that you cannot expect anything more from him. He is not a man who speaks poetry; he’s a man who’s more familiar with war and death, rather than the meaning of affection itself.

As you continue to scrub, your movements become more rigid, your heart sinking in disappointment with every swipe of your aching hand. 

“Grab me the dry cloth,” Sukuna orders, and he rises up from the steaming water — the surface of the water breaks with a heavy splash. The white cloth wrapped around his hips dips steadily, the water trailing down the backs of his brawny thighs. He turns around, his tall frame looming over you. You immediately divert your gaze, turning your head before your own eyes dare to betray you. 

You scramble to find the dry linen; your movements hurried and uncoordinated as the persistent, shameful heat nearly engulfs you.

Without uttering another word, you hand him the cloth — your gaze still fixated on anywhere else but him. You keep your arm extended, but Sukuna doesn’t take it immediately. 

Damn him. Making you wait while you’re kneeling, too? 

Finally, a large, calloused hand brushes against yours as he takes the linen. “Do I look that repulsive to you that you can’t even bear to look at me?”

The remark catches you off guard. You snap your head up, your eyes clashing with his. 

“Repulsive, My Lord?” The words tumble out your lips, and you once again look away, your voice dropping to a bashful whisper that betrays your composure. “Far from it.” 

Your words hang in the air longer than you would like. Sukuna’s expression remains unreadable, something that you’re slowly — but surely — growing accustomed to.

“Hah.” A brief chuckle leaves his lips. “Far from it, you say?”

Theres a hint of intrigue laced in his voice, and he squats down to meet your gaze. You swear he can hear how violent your heart is pounding against your ribs.

“Look at me when you say such things,” he commands, though his voice sounds surprisingly gentle.

Your breath catches in your throat. Slowly, you lift your eyes. Water still trails down the ridges of his chiseled chest in slow, agonizing lines. Droplets gather at the edge of his jaw before dripping down his neck. 

“You are far from repulsive, my Lord.” You comply, your gaze locking into his crimson eyes. He studies your face for a brief moment before a curt chuckle reaches his throat, the corner of his lips curling up into a small smirk. 

“Your eyes are hinting at something that your pretty mouth refuses to speak on.” He murmurs before leaning closer, his warm breath hovering mere inches away from your ears. “If you wish for something, wife, you will learn to ask.”

He pulls away, standing up from his squatting position and flings the cloth over his shoulder. Before a single thought can register in your head, he spins his heel and his back then faces you. 

“I’ll get Tsubuki to fetch you a warm bath.” He says casually, his tone indifferent as though he hadn’t just read you like an open book with a few words. 

He passes by your kneeling figure, his heavy footsteps slowly fading away as he leaves you alone in the swirling mist. 

Being flabbergasted is truly an understatement.

By eventide, you’ve only just recovered from sulking in your chambers when Uraume enters.

“My lady,” the ivory-haired attendant greets you, bowing slightly; their composure remains ever so graceful.

“Uraume,” you acknowledge your husband’s most loyal servant with a curt nod. 

“Lord Sukuna requests your presence in the dining hall,” Uraume states, their expression stoic as stone. “He’d like you to join him at once.”

The walk to the dining hall feels interminable as you follow Uraume through the labyrinthine corridor, the air growing colder as you approach the large doors; the rhythmic thrumming of your heartbeat ringing in your ears. Each step of your sandals on the polished wood echoes through the estate. Uraume’s silence is absolute, their steps weightless akin to that of a spirit’s. 

The flickering candlelight casts long, distorted shadows against the shoji screens as you both near closer, and closer. 

When the Shoji doors finally slide open, the divine scent of meat and sweet fruit hits you. Meat. Your eyes dart over to the large cuts splayed across the platter, glistening under the candlelight. 

“It’s buck meat,” The familiar baritone catches your attention and your gaze travels to your peach-haired husband, sitting at the head of the low table. His bottom arms are crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed. His upper hand is cupped around a persimmon fruit; it looks tiny in his palm. “Come, eat.”

“My lord,” you greet him with a low, respectful bow before taking your seat; the silk of your kimono rustling as you settle onto the tatami. 

You stare down at your plate — it had been prepared so meticulously; thinly sliced venison, garnished with herbs, sat alongside a small mound of rice with a small bowl of soup nearby. With your dominant hand, you reach for the rich venison with your chopsticks until you heard the loud noises of chewing and licking. 

Your hand freezes.

In a pitiful attempt, you attempt to focus on your own portion, however you find your curiosity is repeatedly drawn at such visceral noises. The sound is oddly wet, rhythmic, and utterly visceral. The sound of such loud, wet slurping nearly makes your heart jump out of your chest; it is unabashedly lewd. You swallow nothing, your throat dry. 

Your gaze, betraying your vain attempts at noble decorum, drifts towards the source of the noise — Sukuna’s lower abdomen. And then you see it. Oh, god. Oh. God.

Save me now.

You watch, both transfixed and horrified, as the jagged teeth of the mouth on his abdomen part to take a bite out of the fleshy persimmon; the tongue licking the juice from his skin. Without realizing, your breath hitches at the way his tongue pokes out of his maw, its appetite insatiable. 

As shameful as it is, you want to be that fruit, too. 

“Is your meal not to your liking? I notice your gaze wandering anywhere else but your food.” 

A soft gasp unexpectedly escapes you, and you clamp your mouth shut with your hands. A rush of heat floods your entire body.

Stupid, stupid! 

A loud laugh erupts from the King of Curses’ throat, a sound that vibrates through the floorboards and into your very bones. You want to hide away so badly. 

“So,” Sukuna rumbles, his four eyes narrowing down at your pitiful form.

With a slow, deliberate thumb, he wipes a small smear of the sweet persimmon juice from his abdominal muscle, never breaking eye contact. Inadvertently, your eyes wander lower, your saliva stuck in your throat as you watch his maw reach for the juice on his slick thumb; the tongue swirling around his finger ever so slightly. You attempt to suppress whatever noise that threatens to escape your throat underneath his intense gaze.

Oh my god. Your gaze lifts to the ceiling. Your eyes close. I’m going to hell. 

A dark chuckle echoes across the room. 

“Who would have guessed my little wife has a stomach for the macabre?” The peach-haired male hummed, staring down at you with an amused expression plastered across his face. 

“Who would have also guessed that my wife can be such a pervert?”

He makes sure to accentuate the last word with a mocking tilt of his head, and you feel your face becoming impossibly hotter. 

“You…” You clench your fist, your grip tightening around the wooden chopsticks. “You are being cruel, My Lord.”

The words spill from your lips with gritted teeth.

“Cruel?” Sukuna leans forward from across the table, his massive frame casting a shadow that can almost swallow you whole. The smirk on his lips deepens, revealing a glint of his canines. “I’m merely observing. You’re the one making it so easy for me to read. You’ve spent the last fortnight avoiding my gaze, so tell me, wife. What’s exactly changed?” 

Your response is immediate, it nearly surprises you.

“It’s been a fortnight,” you repeat after him, your voice trembling but rising to meet his. The frustration of fourteen nights spent in a cold, lonely bed — many of the nights you spent wondering if you were merely invisible or simply inadequate—finally boils over; his mockery being the final spark to set the tiniest amount of patience you had left ablaze. 

“It’s been a fortnight and you’ve yet to ask for my presence in your chambers. You call me wife, yet you refuse to bed me. Is this your way of mocking me? Do you even see me as a woman?” 

The silence that follows is absolute — a heavy, suffocating weight that seems to suck the air right out of the room, making you breathless. Behind Sukuna, you can sense Uraume’s usual icy demeanour shatter into that of pure disbelief; their violet eyes widen, fixed on you as if they are staring at a ghost. Tsubuki and Kuri have gone rigid, standing upright like frozen statues with their gazes pinned to the wooden floorboards.

“Out,” he says, his voice a low thrum that is somehow more terrifying than that of a shout. The expression on his face unreadable, but the look in his eyes showed otherwise.

You begin to push back from the table, your lips pressed tightly together. Embarrassment floods over your body in large waves; it was naive to think anything would change after your outburst.

Sukuna clicks his tongue. 

“No. You, stay where you are.” He commands, the authority in his tone anchors you to the spot, He turns his head to the side and barks at the attendants standing nearby. “All of you — out. Now.”

Uraume and the attendants leave the room without question, the shoji doors sliding shut with a soft, final click that echoes throughout the silent dining room. 

Your heart hammers against your chest in rapid motions, your stomach coils into a tight knot. With the absence of the servants, the space feels cavernous, yet the space between you and Sukuna feels dangerously small in proximity. The air looming between you feels unbearably thick. Your instincts are telling you to leave — to run, but your feet stays planted on the tatami. 

“You’re one of many surprises, indeed. Especially with that sharp tongue of yours.” Sukuna says as he slowly rises from his seat, his shadow stretching across the table like a dark tide. He begins to round the table, his footsteps slow, yet heavy. “A fortnight of playing the part of the dutiful wife, yet all this time, you were developing a grudge because I hadn’t yet claimed what was mine?”

He stops in front of you, squatting down to your level. His four eyes stare at you with an unwavering intensity. 

Your throat goes dry as you shuffle beneath his gaze, “I… I apologize if I’ve offended you, My Lord.”

He clicks his tongue, amused. 

“There you go again,” he whistles, brushing his peach locks back with a large palm. “Staring at me like that. Yes, that — like a bitch in heat. Are you even being sincere with your apology?” 

He inches closer. 

“Didn’t I tell you, wife — that if you want something, you’ll have to use your words.”

You’re about to retort a response, but he hooks his index and middle finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his unwavering gaze. A low hum erupts from his throat, a chuckle vibrating against his chest. 

“If only you could see how you look right now.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with fascination and suppressed hunger. “You look famished.”

You try to pull away, to find some shred of your former dignity, but your face betrays you. You are flushed a deep, feverish crimson, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. A look of pure, unadulterated wanton is plastered across your features—a dazed, hungry expression you aren't even aware you’re wearing, but is all laid bare for your husband to see. 

“My Lord…” you mumble out, disdain and arousal laced in your voice. “If… you’re just going to keep teasing me, I’ll have to take my leave.”

Yet, you don’t find it within yourself to leave. 

His face inches closer to yours, his warm breath fanning over your face. He smiles almost mockingly, his eyes reading you intently. “No, you won’t.”

Wordlessly, he sweeps the porcelain dishes off the table in a single motion — the sounds of porcelain shattering echoes athwart the room. You snap your gaze to the piles of broken dishes on the floor, breathless. 

“My lo—!”

Without giving yourself the chance to utter out a single response, his large hands grip at your waist — eliciting a surprised gasp escaping from your lips as he hoists you over the table; seating you on the bare, mahogany wood. The top pair of his eyes remain locked on yours, whilst the bottom pair of his eyes glaze over to the way your lips part, puckering ever so slightly—a silent and subconscious invitation born of the very desperation you tried so vainly to hide. 

One of his lower hands grips at the plush of your thighs, while his upper hands slowly snake around your back, slowly undoing the knot of your obi; loosening the silk fabric. The cool air hits your bare shoulder, a hitched breath escaping your throat, the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen becomes too much for you to bear. With his large frame resting between your legs, it’s impossible to close your legs shut — impossible to hide your arousal. 

Sukuna’s blood red gaze trails down the line of your throat, catching sight of the small, glistening beads of sweat trailing down your flushed skin, disappearing beneath the collar of your kimono toward the swell of your chest.

For the first time since your wedding, the King of Curses—your husband—finally closes the distance. He leans in, his warm breath fans over the nape of your neck. He sniffs at the skin, and you feel yourself shrinking beneath him. 

“M-My Lord,” your breath hitches when you feel his slick tongue trace over your delicate skin. He licks a long stripe along your collarbone, his chest rumbles with a sound so primal. He pulls away, licking his lips.

“You smell sweeter today,” he hums, “taste is immaculate, too.” 

He breaks into grin, “No wonder why you’ve been acting the way you’ve been. Are you even aware that you’re at you’re most fertile today?”

He trails a large finger along the fabric of your kimono, his digit dipping inside ever so slightly into the soft flesh of your abdomen.

 “Your body’s in need of getting a good fuck,” he growls.

“W-what?—” Your pulse races at the filthy words spilling from his tongue. Every syllable is effortless, rolling off his lips as smooth as honey.

He wants to taste you, so fucking bad. Every day spent observing your feigned indifference, every night spent waiting for your pride to shatter, has led to right where he wants you to be. His senses have never failed him.

“Tell me, my little wife.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours — his hot breath ghosts over your lips. It’s taking everything within you to not pull him by the collar of his kimono and crash your hungry lips against his. However, your anticipation precedes you. “Tell me how eager you are to be treated like a slut.”

You being reduced to such a term should have offended you — wound your pride, even. However, you find yourself rocking your hips gently to his derogatory and crude words. It shouldn’t have aroused you much, yet it did. Your walls of pride has long fallen; the need for being touched — the need of having your obscene scenarios coming to life. 

You’ve never been touched, yet your hunger is akin to one of a fucking succubus. 

“Tell me exactly what you want,” a low purr rumbles from Sukuna’s throat, “and I’ll consider giving it to you.”

Consider? 

Your eyes dart down to the large bulge — bulges — nudging against your thigh, and your mouth immediately waters; much akin to your lower lips between your thighs. Your mind’s going haywire at the newfound discovery. He wants this. You truly doubt there was anything else for him to consider.

You want this.

You need this.

The one thing you’ve been aching for an agonizing fourteen nights is merely within your reach.

“Touch me,” you exhale, “please, husband. I need you.”

With a low, guttural growl, his upper hands seize the front of your loosened kimono. Of course, the King of Curses doesn’t bother with the remaining ties keeping your kimono and kosode together; he rips the fabric apart with ease. The sound of tearing fabric rings in your ears, soon followed with a wave of cool air rushing over your chest — your buds growing taut at the contact. The fine embroidery is ruined, hanging in tatters around your hips. Though, he can care less, and so do you. 

You sit on the edge of the wooden table, splayed and bare to his hungry four-eyed gaze. 

He lets out a sharp, jagged breath, his pupils blown wide as he finally sees your pretty cunt coated in all its love juices; your centre slick and glistening — a testament as to how badly you craved for him. 

“You dared to question me whether or not I see you as a woman,” he mumbles, his voice going an octave lower, “as if my restraint wasn’t already a goddamn mercy.”

The silk of his kimono slides from his shoulders in a slow, fluid motion; revealing the true, terrifying scale of his Herculean frame. The candlelight catches the sheen of sweat on his skin, trailing down towards the maw on his abdomen. Its teeth glint, and its tongue flickers out. 

His lower hands slide up the insides of your thighs, the calloused pads of his fingers dragging over the warm, sensitive skin with an agonizing, frustrating slowness. His upper hands trail over your collarbone before dipping down to the center of your chest. He cracks a small smile, amused at the way your heart quickens at his touch. He hasn’t even gotten to the best part yet.

His upper hands continue their slow, possessive descent — it is almost torturous, the pads of his fingers grazing the top of your breasts while his lower hands reach the very apex of your trembling thighs; his palm hovering your aching heat. 

“Hah,” a breathless sound escapes Sukuna’s lips, his lower hands finally making contact with the slick heat between your thighs; his finger dragging through the evidence of your undoing, the sensation of his calloused skin against your sensitive folds elicits a sweet moan escaping your lips. “You’re so fucking drenched.” 

“And whose fault is that?” you retort, your voice just as breathless as your eyes travel down to the hungry maw etched onto his abdomen and your hips thrust upward in a subconscious plea. He follows your gaze and a chuckling scoff escapes his throat. 

“The filth you hide in your mind truly astounds me.” 

He doesn’t pull away — rather, he presses his body closer to yours, his large hands parting your legs further and he shifts your hips. Your mind immediately goes numb. You feel the humid, heavy breath of the maw on his abdomen ghosting over your inner thighs, inches away from your dripping cunt. 

“Please—” your plea finally breaks from your plea in a quiet, broken murmur. 

The word is barely is out before your head snaps, your spine arching off the wooden table as a surprised, sharp gasp of unadulterated pleasure is ripped from your throat as you feel the blunt, calloused tip of his middle finger dipping into your heat. 

A heavy, hitched breath escapes Sukuna’s throat.

“Please, what?” He hums, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he dips his finger deeper; your walls embraces his digit eagerly, pulsing around him desperately. He finds it all so intoxicating. 

Your hands rush to grip at the biceps of his upper arms, your nails digging into his skin. 

He doesn’t stop at one; he slides a second finger inside, relishing in the way your eyes roll back and your lips part. 

“M-My Lord—” you gasp out, but your husband cuts you off. “Call me by my name.”

He curls his fingers deep inside you, finding that sweet, delicious spot that makes your neck croon and toes curl. 

“Sukuna—!” A loud squeal rips from your throat, paired with the intense clenching and pulsing of your pussy around his two digits. He’s relentless. With each powerful thrust of his fingers, he digs deeper, his knuckles bumping against your entrance while continuously hitting your sweet spot in repeated motions. Your hips buck up against his, your nails digging deeper into his shoulder. 

“P-Please—Ah! I want—I want…” You barely gasp out, your mind turning into mush at his cruel ministrations. You’re far beyond embarrassment now, your whole body engulfed with need and sheer arousal. 

“Mmm… want to feel your tongues on me.” The request leaves your lips in a lewd, broken mewl. 

“Fuck. That’s it.” He licks his lips. Each wet, rhythmic slap of his fingers fingers fucking into your pussy and your sweet, restrained moans sends jolts of arousal straight to his dicks — pressing uncomfortably against his hakama. 

He leans his forehead against yours, his crimson gaze staring deep into yours as the thrusts of his fingers increased in force and speed; his pace relentless and punishing, pushes you ultimately to your climax. “I-I’m… I think I’m going to—” your eyes roll back, your body trembles beneath him. 

A loud moan of your husband’s name breaks from your lips. Your back arches violently, your toes curling as your walls clamp down on his fingers. Yet, he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t relent — relishing in your unraveling by his two fingers. You try to reach his lower arms, but his upper arms stop you; holding your wrist in a vice grip while he continues to destroy your hole with his two, large, digits. 

“Hah. You’ve finally lost it, haven’t you?” A low rumble vibrates against your bare chest. “Just how dirty were your fantasies that you’re begging for both my mouths?”

“W-wait—!” You cry out, your voice cracking as the pressure in your abdomen builds into something well-nigh unbearable. “You’re—AH! Y-You’re gonna make me pee!”

Sukuna doesn’t flinch, rather it gives him even more of a drive to see you let loose.

 “Let go,” he says, his command immediately reaching your belly. It isn’t long before your sweet, hot juices spray across his hand and the tattooed skin of his abdomen. 

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, fascinated at the mess you created. Slowly, he pulls digit out of your heat; his eyes glued to the slick nectar coating around his two fingers. You can only watch in awe and embarrassment as he brings the juices to his mouth, his lingua poking out to slowly lap at his own knuckles; savouring your taste with the focus of a connoisseur. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” his rasp comes out in a strained moan.

Feeling bashful, eyes involuntarily dart lower, only for your skin to flush an immense red. The sight is as hypnotic as it is harrowing. While your husband tastes you above, his maw below has grown restless — your gaze stuck onto the sight as that heavy, muscular tongue lolls out to lap at the juices splayed across your abdomen; primal, wet noises escape the maw and it echoes throughout the dining room. 

You can’t wait any longer. You want him. Now. 

Driven by a sudden, desperate surge of temerity to drown out any remaining shame you have left, you reach up and tangle your fingers into his pink locks, pulling his face down to yours and you finally lock lips. 

Sukuna lets out a brief, surprised hum against your lips, his four eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he melts. He meets your tongue with an overwhelming fervour, one of his upper hands sliding from your waist to cradle the back of your head, softly digging his fingers into your locks. Below, your legs act on their own accord; you hook your ankles behind his his back, your thighs locking around his chiseled torso and bringing his maw closer to your heat. Such a motion hitches your hips upward, dragging your slick, pulsing cunt directly against the heat of his lower mouth.

The reaction is instantaneous — you both moan into the kiss, your tongues entwined into one another while you can feel the maw’s humid breath scorching your inner thighs.  

Sukuna breaks the kiss just enough to huff against your lips, his forehead still pressed firmly against yours. “Fuck, you’re just insatiable, aren't you?”

You can only let out a whimper in response, your head lolling back as the thick, salacious muscle swipes a long line along your drenched slit. “Holy fuck,” is all you can utter. 

He shifts his hips, his lower hands reaching down to grip your knees and spread you even wider on the mahogany table, a raspy chuckle leaves his lips when the tongue pokes out of his abdomen to lap greedily at your pussy before entering inside — eliciting a sweet cry to escape from your throat. 

The noises that escape you are no longer coherent; loud sobs of pleasure and heavy breaths bounce off the high ceilings. You are pinned, splayed, and utterly consumed. 

He rocks his hips slowly, grinding his maw against your heat as it messily laps at your folds, glistening the skin in both your juices and its saliva. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, a breathless moan escaping your lips. 

“Look at you,” Sukuna purrs, his upper eyes’ pupils blown wide in pure arousal — it almost felt predatory. “You’re taking him so well. How does it feel acting like a harlot when this is your first time ever being touched by a man?”

“I-I’ve always been so — Mmh!” You roll your head back once more, a hitched cry leaves your pretty — drool-drenched lips. “You had… always—ngh! Piqued my interest—!” 

“So much that you’ve become curious as to what my two mouths could do to you? I’m starting to wonder if you’ve spent those nights dreaming the same about my cocks.” 

The thought alone makes your heart Hammer against your ribs. Of course, you have. How could you not?

“You had never summoned me, despite me waiting for days.” You say quietly, biting your lips as you feel his maw fuck its tongue deeper into your hole. “Ahn! So… I-I just let my mind wander.”

“Do you realize how easily you could’ve had me if you used that voice of yours? Hm?”

He licks a small stripe along your incarnadine lips, his lips brushing against the corners of your lips. His hot breath sends a wave of shivers and arousal down your spine. 

He rasps, “You could have crawled to me on the first night — begged, even. And I might have let you taste a fraction of this. You could have dropped that pride of yours and you wouldn’t to rely on such imagination.”

The tongue inside you flickers with a sudden, rapid intensity; briefly exiting your hole before the muscle begins swirling around your clitoris — flicking at the firm, sensitive bud before the mouth circles around it and sucks — drawing your clitoris into his abdomen. 

“Is this anything like you’ve imagined?” He teases, despite the cocky edge in his voice, he sounded strained; his breath raspy and heavy, hitching in tandem with the frantic rhythm of his lower mouth as it devours your pussy. “Answer me, slut.” 

“It’s s’much bettER—Ah!”

You feel as though air is completely knocked out of your lungs, your mind drowning in the immense pleasure he is giving you. The sensation of his maw sucking your clit with such vigour — it’s driving you mad — just as much as it is affecting him.

“Fuck…” He grunts, the profanity torn from his throat as his abs ripple and spasm against your inner thighs.

His cocks pulse frantically beneath the thin fabric of his hakama — the need growing from below has become far too much for him to bear — his patience already wears thin. He needs more. The table alone won’t be enough for what he wants to do so desperately with you.

“We’re going to my chambers.” He growls, his voice dripping with pure, carnal need. 

He doesn’t spare you a second to recover; his lower hands dive under the your thighs, his large hands gripping the plush of your ass with a bruising strength and hoisting you off the mahogany table in one motion. Your hands immediately find refuge in the crevices of his shoulder, snaking your arms around his large frame as he hoists your trembling body up — your cunt still dripping from the relentless assault of his second mouth. You dig your canines into his neck, stifling the loud cries that threaten to slip past your lips. 

With you in his arms, he makes large strides towards the shoji. Though, the maw on his abdomen doesn’t cease to quit; it continues to lap and swirl around your dripping entrance greedily. You inhale sharply, biting your lip, trying to both stabilize and ground yourself.

The shoji flies open with a sharp, echoing clack!

Though, your heart plummets into your stomach — your skin pales. 

Tsubuki and Kuri stands as stlll as statues along the walls, their head bowed in practiced, chilling discipline. They don’t flinch at the sight of their master half-bare, nor do they look up to catch sight of his naked wife in his arms — completely at the mercy of the mouth on his stomach; a mixture of your juices and its saliva dripping down onto the polished wood board.

Despite their stone-faced expressions, you find it hard not to notice the tinge of red staining the tips of their ears. As disciplined as they are, they are neither deaf nor foolish.

“I feel you tightening around his tongue,” he whispers in your ear, “does this arouse you?”

A feverish heat consumes your entire face, and you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. You pray for the ground below you to open up and swallow you whole, yet your body betrays you; breathless moans escapes your lips, muffled only by the hot, sweaty skin of his shoulder. 

“Let’s go already,” you whine, your voice muffled by his skin. 

His heavy strides echoes through the corridor, with every step, your hips meet with the maw. With every step, you’re shocked with jolts of pleasure. Eventually he reaches the shoji leading to his chambers, and he slides them open. Not even a moment after, the wooden door slides shut with a loud thud.

The air in his chambers feel heavy, the strong scent of cedar and sandalwood incense immediately fills your nostrils. 

He doesn’t bother with the futon. Rather, Sukuna pins you against the nearest wall, the sudden impact eliciting a sharp, breathless gasp. He locks his lips against yours, and with a subtle tilt of his head, he deepens the kiss — his tongue dominating yours with ease. He pulls away, sloppily kissing at your neck down to your collarbone; his large, calloused palms molding the soft mounds of your breast, his thumbs lazily flicking and rolling your nipples until he feels your hips jerk against his.

Your breath hitches.

His lips only trail lower and lower until he reaches your breast, engulfing the hardened bud inside his mouth. He returns the same love to your other breast before his lips trail lower, and lower; passing your abdomen and inching closer to your heat. A broken whimper escapes your throat, your fingers traveling up and finding solace in his roseate locks as he sinks to his knees before you. 

His large, calloused hands palm the plush of your ass, nearly bruising the soft skin as he pulls you closer to his face. His tongue is softer, hitting your spots with controlled movements 

“Pl-Please,” You stammer in between soft moans, “I want you now.”

“You can wait,” he replies, his voice muffled as his lips remain on your cunt; his chin drenched in both his drool and your juices. “You’ve always been good at that.”

“You can handle a few more minutes of me tasting you,” He says before wrapping his lips tightly around your clit, sucking around the sensitive bud tightly. Looking up, his four eyes are all fixated on you; relishing in the way your body unravels beneath his tongue. He nearly moans at the sight; his grip tightening around your ass, his fingers digging into the skin. 

“So sweet,” he groans against your skin. 

In the midst of his torture, his lower hands abandon your ass, and they trail down past the rigid muscle of his abdomen with a newfound hurriedness. Then, the silence of the room — paired with your heavy breathing — is punctuated by the heavy rustle of fabric as his hakama finally drops to the wooden floor.

Holy shit. 

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at the sight, or the way your throat goes dry. In languid movements, he strokes his upper cock with his hand. It takes everything within him not to cackle when he hears you audibly gulp at the lewd sight; your gaze hopelessly trapped by the steady motions of his hand. 

“You still want this?” He questions, his voice dripping in arousal. “Or is it more than you can handle?”

“Of course I do,” you reply almost immediately, as your voice eventually quiets; your eyes narrowing into the daunting size of his girth. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Good.”

With a sudden burst of movement, his upper hands snatch your waist, hoisting you off the floor as if you weight nothing at all. A surprised yelp leaves you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips and your fingers digging into his brawny, tattooed shoulders as he strides toward the futon. 

He drops you onto the silk, the impact firm enough to make your hips bounce and your hair fan out across the fabric below you. And before you can even register what’s going on, his massive shadow looms over your frame; the mattress of the futon dipping under his weight as he crawls between your knees as his frame effortlessly pushes your legs farther apart. 

His upper hands reach down, his calloused fingers hooking firmly behind your knees to hike them up toward your chest — a position that leaves your drenched cunt bared and vulnerable to his gaze. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, licking his lips. With one hand, he lazily brings his lower cock up and slaps the heavy, pulsing length against your heat — watching the way the tip of his cock drags through the pool of your shared slickness before slapping it against you once more. “Your body’s practically begging to be filled, ha.”

He pushes your knees further up and pins them toward your shoulders, eliciting a surprised gasp of his name to tumble past your lips. The moment you feel his tip push inside, you keen. 

“God!” A small scream erupts from your throat, your neck craning back into the pillows. The sharp pain immediately strikes you as your walls struggle to accommodate to the sheer size of his —

“Are you really screaming another man’s name when I’m inside you?” He teases, though the humor in his voice is tempered by a strained groan. He rocks his hips slowly, claiming your walls inch by inch. Your cunt’s just as greedy, your walls gripping onto each ridged vein of his monster girth as he slides deeper. All that follows are your sweet moans and whimpers gracing his ears.

“Shit — you’re clenching around me like a fucking vice.” He hisses, tilting his head back slightly. The muscles in his jaw tightens, his four eyes narrowing down at you; his pupils blown wide in some sort of primal desire. “You have to relax for me if you want me to go in all the way.”

“There’s more?!” You exclaim, your voice nearly cracking.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he says as he presses your further into the mattress, “but I’m barely halfway.” 

“Y-You’re going to rip me apart,” you stammer softly, a faint, instinctual fear blooming in your chest as you look up at the Herculean man above you. 

“With how wet you are for me right now? I doubt it.” He counters, smiling as his voice drops low into a whisper. “Besides, you are going to take it. I will make sure of it.”

With another deliberate tilt of his pelvis, he drives another inch of his cock into you. He relishes the way your eyes roll back at the sensation, your back arching off the mattress as your breath hitches into a high-pitched whine. What began as a brief, sharp sting quickly transitions into pure, unadulterated bliss — a hot spark that short-circuits your every thought and takes over you whole.

“Fuck, fuck…” He hisses under his breath, his jaw tight. The friction of your walls, pulsing and squeezing around him so sweetly is nonetheless, for him, pure torture. “You’re so tight — so goddamn perfect. I’m going all the way now, okay? You feel so fuckin’ good.”

With that, the peach-haired male anchors himself and with a sudden surge of his hips, he drives forward, burying the remaining length of his cock in one motion; his pelvis slamming flush against yours. A loud, needy sob dies in your throat as he fills you to the very brim, stretching your walls in a way that you didn’t realize felt possible — let alone pleasurable. It leaves you utterly breathless, yet yearning for more. 

Sukuna’s brows knit together in a sharp V, stifling whatever noises that threaten to escape his throat. His blunt, manicured nails digs deeper into the flesh of your hips, anchoring you to the futon as he commences a merciless pace. 

“S-Suk—un—“ You try to utter your husband’s name in between moans and broken gasps, your voice getting more incoherent as seconds pass. Your eyes roll back, a thin trail of drool escaping your parted lips. “I-I’m go—fuck! P-Please I’m so close—”

With your knees pinned back and your body tilted at such a punishing angle, your husband makes mean, effortless contact with your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips; the tip of his cock kissing your sensitive womb. The wet, lewd slap of skin meeting skin echoes through the chamber — paired with the needy moans that escapes your lips as he fucks you through your nth orgasm of the night.

Even through the haze of the pleasure clouding your thoughts, you can’t ignore the heavy, pulsing weight resting against your navel. Without thinking twice, your hand reaches out, your fingers curling around the girth of his upper cock; your small palm sliding over his pulsing length as your thumb languidly presses against the tip, smudging his pre-cum across the skin. 

A surprised hiss leaves Sukuna’s lips, his rhythm faltering for a brief moment as his four-eyed gaze snaps down to where your hand lies before traveling back up to yours. You still look fucked out — wide-eyed and breathless — but despite having your shit absolutely ruined, you still look adorable as ever. 

“Mmh. Keep going. Just like that.” He commands, though the authority that was once present in his voice is beginning to fray. Small, involuntary groans tear out of his throat as he attempts to maintain his composure. However, with your hand working him above and your pussy practically milking him from below, he, too is coming undone — much closer to his limit than he’d ever care to admit. 

Low moans of your name tumbles past his lips as he rocks his hips into yours, his pace growing more frantic and uncontrolled by the second; his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pulls you closer — the tip of his cock kissing your cervix each time, and his upper length gliding against the gentle palms of your hand. 

Glancing down at your trembling figure, your face contorting in pure bliss, and your lips drenched in your own drool as you pathetically try to suppress your noises — You look absolutely undone, and he loves every single bit of it. He licks a long stripe along your ankle, before pressing a chaste kiss against the sweaty skin; grinning at the way your body immediately jolts at the sensation. 

“You…” He begins in a low murmur, though you can feel him smile against your skin. “I’m going to put all my seed in you, and you’re going to take it. All of it.”

He almost laughs at the way your walls squeeze around his cock almost immediately, as if it is begging for him to do so. You, however, can only whimper out jumbled out a series of ‘yes, please’ 

“Fucking harlot,” he bemuses, “out of all the normal men on this earth, the only one your cunt’s craving so shamelessly for just had to be some abomination?”

He leans closer, pressing his cock somehow deeper; he devours the sound of your keen, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Take it,” he snarls, the command sends jolts throughout your entire body. 

“Please, fuck. I need — Ngh! Please ‘Kuna, I need it—”

With one final thrust and a deep, guttural groan, he pins you into the mattress with his weight; his fingers digging into the back of your thighs as all your vision turned to white. The sensation is immediate — a hot, pulsing warmth that seems to fill every hollow of your being. His upper cock twitches above your abdomen, spilling out hot spurts of his thick, white seed across your skin, painting a messy trail from the curve of your abdomen all the way up to your flushed, breathless face. 

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by your shallow pants; the air thick with the scent of salt and sex. You can barely find the strength to move your legs, your muscles still twitching from your release.

Sukuna’s large figure looms over you, all four of his eyes tracking the way your chest heaves and your gaze struggles to focus, seemingly committing every detail to memory. Most importantly, his eyes trail over your body and the way his seed maps across your skin like it was a work of art. He moves slowly, his upper hand reaching towards your flushed face.

His thumb finds the streak of white across the apples of your cheek, swiping at the skin with a newfound gentleness. Despite the fondness that’s present in his expression, there’s also a smug look that’s faintly etched across his face as he brings the digit towards your mouth. You’re truly no better as you wordlessly stick your tongue out, meeting his gaze with a heavy-lidded, breathless stare. Stripped off all your pride, you let your tongue swirl around his digit before sucking on it softly — cleaning his finger free from his cum. 

With another hand, he brushes his fingers across the soft locks of your hair.

“Good girl,” Your husband murmurs, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear before dragging lower towards your jaw. He smiles, almost teasingly.

“I don't know what other thoughts you have swimming around in your head, but I hope you didn’t think a single round would be enough to tire me." He leans closer, brushing his lips against your ear. "After a fortnight of waiting, I'm more than certain you feel the same way."

Criminal!Sukuna who lights up in the most feral way whenever your name comes up. Won’t admit it, of course. But it’s obvious how he stops pacing when the mail comes. He snatches your envelopes out of the stack like a territorial dog, scowling at anyone who looks over.

Criminal!Sukuna who sits in his cell reading pages upon pages of you calling him a brain-dead brute with no sense of decorum. Threats piling up saying you’ll break things off completely if he doesn’t clean up his act when he gets out.

He smiles anyway. Because the letters smell like your perfume. Lips splitting wide in that creepy, clinically unwell way that has Gojo surmising Sukuna must have stockholm-syndromed his way into his relationship somehow.

Criminal!Sukuna who writes back instantaneously. Pencil scritching against paper like he’s got a vendetta – and perhaps he does, because he writes venomous, downright heinous shit. All watch your tone and you won’t find a better fuck, signed with a little sketch of his dick. For good measure, of course.

𓀐𓂺 𓀐𓂸

Criminal!Sukuna who spends half his sentence arguing with you through busted-up phone receivers and glass partitions. Sometimes you’ll be face to face at the visitation area, nary a word spoken. Once, you threaten to “start seeing someone normal”, and he slams the counter so hard the whole thing jostles.

There’s something special in the way you speak to him. Like he’s an exceptionally stupid man, and not a dangerous bastard with an egregiously extensive crime record.

“Do you want to get out of prison,” you hiss, enunciating each syllable with a finger jabbed hard at the glass, “or do you want to buttfuck your cellmate?”

Sukuna’s sprawled in his chair, massive arms folded with a sleazy grin, eyes glimmering with mirth. He leans closer.

“Depends. You gonna dump me if I do?”

“Maybe.”

The phone receiver slams against the cradle on his side so hard the inmate six seats down flinches. Sukuna stands to full height, chair scraping back loud across the floor. Hunched over the counter.

“You try it,” he sneers. “See what happens.”

A normal person would back down right about now. Think: hey, this probably isn’t a healthy or sustainable relationship! I should end things right here!

You do not. Instead, you stand and collect your things, a vein pulsing at your forehead as you muster a sweet smile. “Maybe I will.”

He stares ahead three long seconds after you leave, then drops back into his chair, muttering curses beneath his breath as a reprimanding guard draws near.

Criminal!Sukuna who finally gets that long-awaited conjugal visit slot after years of good behavior (read: not slamming anyone’s head into a wall for about a week and a half). And lucky him, you’ve requested special accommodations! – a little trailer just off prison grounds. 

He would’ve been fine fucking you for all to hear, too, but he digresses.

He’s half-hard just from the walk out the confine, veins prominent as his cuff-clad hands twist together. Too busy thinking to bother snarking at the guards who trail behind him.

He wonders what he’ll do when he sees you first. Maybe he’ll smirk, make a snide comment. Or maybe instinct’ll take over, and he’ll bury his face in your hair and his dick in your pussy. Who’s to say?

He’s excited. Very. In many ways.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s one foot into the trailer when he freezes up. The guards have to push him through, slamming the door behind him as his system reboots.

Something tambourines across his ribcage as his eyes meet yours, pounding, pounding– fuck. There you are.

God, he’s missed you.

“You’re staring.”

“..you’re breathing.”

“Yes, that tends to happen.”

His fingers twitch, a soft exhale escaping.

He can’t even find it in himself to be pissed. You’re so pretty. Especially when you’re mad. The angrier you get and the sharper you snap back, the brighter that little gleam in your eyes burns.

Sukuna likes it. He likes it a lot.

He likes you a lot.

The sole reason he even bothered to behave long enough to earn this visit was so he could see that exact frown on your lips once more.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s snapped out of his reverie with the telltale warning of your fingers threading through his hair.

Then those exact lips slam against his with a hiss, your teeth clashing, biting and pulling at his bottom lip as if punishing him for all the time you’ve lost.

His hands – still restrained – press into your waist.

He can’t be bothered to care.

He’s on a sugar high for the first time in months, swallowing down your sativa taste until he’s lightheaded and preening, the outline of kuna junior™ peeking out his orange garb to wave hello.

Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging when his metal cuffs digs into you. In the way. You shoot him a glare, and he snarls beneath his breath.

“Hold still, woman.”

“I am holding still, you dolt–”

There’s a sharp crack!

All you see is the flex of his forearms before the cuffs give way, steel snapping like cheap jewelry and skewing across the trailer floor.

Criminal!Sukuna who hauls you up by your thighs, slamming your back against the flimsy trailer wall so hard a framed motivational poster clatters to the floor. His mouth’s on your throat, kissing tattoos into your skin while he grinds his aching length against the warmth of your clothed cunt.

Criminal!Sukuna who swipes your panties to the side instead of bothering to take them off. There’s a wet spot where he’s been grinding that has his smile spreading mean, two fingers rubbing at your clit before dipping in and crooking up.

“No one’s been spreading you right, huh? Miss me that bad?”

“Missed the dick. Didn’t miss the mouth.”

He snorts at that. Mutters “brat” beneath his breath as he drags his fingers out, slow and glistening, smearing slick along your folds before pushing them back in deep. “Lucky the mouth missed you.”

Criminal!Sukuna who drops to his knees. More collapse than kneel, weight falling hard as he plants himself to the floor, thighs spread wide, hands gripping at your ass to pull you closer. Then he smiles up, tongue running along his molars in anticipation.

Criminal!Sukuna who eats you out like he’s starved. Who dives in with no preamble, mouth sealing over your cunt, tongue flat and broad and greedy as he drags it from your entrance up in one long, lewd-sounding swipe. He takes a moment to grin against your clit, tongue swirling messy circles as his nose presses to the warmth of your skin. Then he’s enveloping the puffy nub between his lips and sucking hard enough to make your hips jerk, humming low when his fingers swipe through your folds and meet a gush of arousal. You buck into the feeling with a whine his name, nails scraping through his scalp, and he practically groans, a hand dropping down to unzip and jerk himself off.

Criminal!Sukuna who gets slower when he’s about to insert himself. Who brushes his tip through your folds, kissing gently at your clit before going back down to gather slick. Then he notches himself at your entrance and thrusts in, agonizingly unrushed, grunting as he sinks into your warmth.

It’s been a while, but his dick still recognizes the feeling like a soldier coming home from war. The fluttering, the way you suck him in like you never forgot him at all – like you waited for him just like he waited for you and worried for him wholly more.

The stretch aches. Your nails rake bloody reality down his back. A groan escapes unbidden – guttural and painstricken and all the more relieved that he’s here, and you’re here, and you’re his.

Criminal!Sukuna who fucks you mean. At first. Sharp and punishing, hips snapping like he’s trying to escape by rocking the trailer to nirvana. Each thrust has a gasp slipping out of your pretty lips, of which he drinks down with fervor, tongue swirling and coaxing yours to muffle the sounds so the guards outside don’t get a free audio show. His balls slap wet against your skin, swollen from months of nothing but his own fist and your perfume-stained letters.

Criminal!Sukuna who slows down when your legs lock tighter around him and your teeth find the side of his neck. He’s still buried to the hilt. His hips rolling in filthy circles, grinding his length against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry.

His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick hair sticking to skin as his voice lowers.

“..say you love me.”

Criminal!Sukuna who lets out a tch when you don’t answer fast enough. Who pulls almost all the way out, letting you feel the drag of every veiny inch, then slams back in so deep your mouth opens in a silent cry.

“Say it. Tell me you’re mine, tell me you– fuuuuuck. Been thinking ‘bout you. Dreaming ‘bout you, every night. Jerked off so much I thought my dick would fall off.. c’mon, baby. Say it. C’mon.”

Criminal!Sukuna who starts begging when your walls pulse around him. Not pretty begging, either – pissed-off. Hoarse.

“Don’t do this to me, please– fuck– just say it. Say you love your piece-of-shit boyfriend. Say you’ll wait. I’ll be good, I swear– only you, just for you, I’ll get out– so say it. Say it. I need you.”

His thrusts turn erratic. Sloppy. He’s close, and he’s trying not to be, trying to drag it out as long as possible before the moment fades into steel bars and white walls of nothing.

Criminal!Sukuna who shivers when you finally card your fingers through his hair, yanking his head back so you can look him in the eye.

You’re pretty. Always pretty, but especially pretty like this, lips swollen and tears pooling at your eyes out of overstimulation.

“I love you, you stupid, stupid man.”

Criminal!Sukuna whose whole body locks up. Whose cock pulses violently inside you – once, twice – and then he’s cumming with a strangled groan, doubling over to hold you tight as he fills you up. He keeps grinding, encouraged by the way your walls milk his length, cum leaking out in a frothy little ring that has his chest preening.

Criminal!Sukuna who doesn’t pull out after. Just stays seated inside, trembling, face buried in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped around you like you might disappear. Who mumbles against your skin, barely audible –

“..missed this pussy.”

He’s still half-hard, twitching every time your walls clench around his oversensitive length. Already thinking about round two.

But despite his perverted words, and his overeager dick, you know exactly what he’s trying to say.

Criminal!Sukuna who spends the rest of your visit inside you in some capacity – fucking, eating you out with your thighs locked around his head, making you ride him on the tiny bed ‘til the frame creaks dangerously. Every time he cums, he begs to hear you say you love him again, hissing it back at you like a promise.

When the guards finally bang on the door to collect him, he snarls “five more minutes” and shoves his tongue back in your mouth. Trying to swallow you whole and take you with him.

Criminal!Sukuna who leaves the trailer with his shoulders loosened, lips swollen, fresh bite marks ringed around his throat and oh-so visible with his head held high. The dopiest, most lovesick grin painted fond across his lips.

He’s gonna get out of here. And when he does, his girl’s gonna be waiting.

––––

Criminal!Sukuna who gets released on parole after god knows how long. The guards walk him out, and the world feels a little different. The air is clearer. And his woman–

.

Where the hell are you?

Criminal!Sukuna who’s a little disappointed when his parole officer is the one to escort him home. But he can’t be too upset about it. You must’ve had it hard, too. He’ll make it up to you.

Criminal!Sukuna who almost breaks down the door on his way in.

DAAAARLING. GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIIIIIIL–

You’re sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, remote in one hand. Unimpressed.

“Hi,” you sniff.

His eye twitches.

“Woman.”

“Yes?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

He drops his duffel bag with a heavy thud. “Yeah. I can see that.”

Criminal!Sukuna who starts prowling around the apartment like a bloodhound. He checks the kitchen and the hallway and the bathroom and the bedroom – including the closet, the door to which he swings open so hard it bangs against the wall.

Bathtub. Bed. Under the bed. Back out again.

He stands silent for a long moment before storming back into the living room, planting himself in front of the couch and looming over you with a scowl.

“You told me you were seeing someone.”

You lean a little to the left so he doesn’t block your view of the TV, ignoring the freshly released menace like you haven’t been yearning for his presence for the past four years. Serves him right. “I told you maybe.”

“Maybe means yes.”

“No,” you reply, calm, “Maybe means maybe.”

“Maybe means there could be some guy sitting in my apartment right now.”

“Our apartment.”

“Same difference.”

You don’t respond, and he feels the panic set in.

Sukuna trusts you. He knows you waited, and he knows you didn’t have to.

What he’s more uncomfortable with is the memory of all those nights in his cell staring at the ceiling wondering if he would come back changed.

It’s not like he’d know if or when that would happen. It’s not like you’re blind to that possibility. You’ve probably spent just as much time wondering the same thing – if the man who came home would still be the one you loved, or just some asshole you’d have to learn to live with until your lease was up.

And if you did anticipate that, and you did move on, and there is some other guy? What then? What useless method of intimidation or blackmail or torture could possibly earn back your heart if he had already lost it somewhere along the way?

You glance up after a bit. A wry smile blooms across your lips when you see the worried set of his brow.

“There is no guy,” you snort.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you pick me up?”

“You know where the apartment is.”

“..would’ve liked balloons, at least.”

You register the little quiver in his voice with a hum.

It’s kind of funny, because when he first got into prison four years ago, he was the one who tried to cut things off. Said he didn’t know you at first – assumed you wouldn’t want to associate with a convict. And now here he is, asking for welcome-home balloons.

“Wow,” you muse, pausing your show, “prison really softened you.”

He glares down at you. You smile back.

And then he lets out a long, aggravated exhale, drags a hand down his face, and plops down onto the couch. The whole thing dips under his weight.

“Missed you,” he murmurs.

You laugh and let him pull you into his arms.

“You big baby.”

Criminal!Sukuna who’s “reformed”. On paper. Ankle monitor long gone and patrol officer off his case. He’s even scored a legitimate (albeit mundane) part-time mechanic gig, which you’re 90% sure he got solely because the owner of the shop used to joyride with him. Some big burly guy named Toji who overcharges his clients and busts all his earnings in a casino at 4am, no doubt.

Still, the itch never leaves.

Criminal!Sukuna who can’t quite give up that pesky little habit of his. He’ll steal anything he can. Snatching your lacey panties right out the hamper just to shove them in the washer four hours later after jerking off until the fabric is soaked. And if ever you ask, he’ll just shrug and feign innocence.

“Dunno. Maybe they ran away from your stank ass pu–”

You don’t let him fuck you for the next two weeks, and from the desperate look on his face when you pass by, it isn’t difficult to assume he’s in just as much agony as he was when he was behind bars.

Criminal!Sukuna who “borrows” your car keys and drives off. He doesn’t have anywhere particularly important to be, but the jingle in his palm and the roar of the engine give him that good ol’ dopamine hit. He goes down three blocks to the gas station just to buy the same energy drink you already have three packs of in the fridge, then comes back home and acts like he wasn’t just driving on a suspended license.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s reintegrated into society. And yet he’ll never truly get rid of the urge – the whisper that he could do something, and he could probably get away with it, too.

But he won’t. He’d kill himself before getting locked up again.

Scratch that – his girl would, first.

𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐎. . .

You aren’t exactly sure whether or not you should be offended or embarrassed that your anticipation had lead you to hope for something more.

Actually, it could be the latter.

The past fifteen minutes was spent scrubbing at his Herculean back; your dainty knuckles already aching and your palms slick with the azukitogi soap. 

He’s yet to ask you to join him in the steaming water.

No. You shake your head, the motion sending a few dampened hair strays against your flushed cheeks, as if doing so can usher such thoughts away. 

The steam coming from the iwaburo is dense, the thin silk clings to your dewy skin. Kneeling on the warm stone, you assist him in reaching places he supposedly could not reach just like how a dutiful wife would help her husband. However, your mind wanders off again — no matter how much the lack of acknowledgement from your husband dismays you. 

Your focused gaze traces the thick, dark markings on his back. They look nearly identical to lightning, you think to yourself. You watch as the tattoos flex and distort over each movement of his broad shoulders. 

“Your hands slowed,” he suddenly comments, turning his head slightly to meet your eyes with his.

You bite your lip for a brief moment and force a smile, “Apologies, my Lord. I just need a minute to recuperate.”

“Hm,” his reply is curt as he turns his head away from you, indifference evident in his tone. “See to it.”

You try to mask your rising frustration, the soft sponge trembling in the palms of your hand. You were given up to the King of Curses for the sake of political power, yes — but, first and foremost before that, you were raised as a noblewoman. How could he treat you as anything lesser — to be treated like a common servant while you, his wife, scrubs at his back undoubtedly is a sting at your pride. 

What makes you feel even worse is the cold realization that you cannot expect anything more from him. He is not a man who speaks poetry; he’s a man who’s more familiar with war and death, rather than the meaning of affection itself.

As you continue to scrub, your movements become more rigid, your heart sinking in disappointment with every swipe of your aching hand. 

“Grab me the dry cloth,” Sukuna orders, and he rises up from the steaming water — the surface of the water breaks with a heavy splash. The white cloth wrapped around his hips dips steadily, the water trailing down the backs of his brawny thighs. He turns around, his tall frame looming over you. You immediately divert your gaze, turning your head before your own eyes dare to betray you. 

You scramble to find the dry linen; your movements hurried and uncoordinated as the persistent, shameful heat nearly engulfs you.

Without uttering another word, you hand him the cloth — your gaze still fixated on anywhere else but him. You keep your arm extended, but Sukuna doesn’t take it immediately. 

Damn him. Making you wait while you’re kneeling, too? 

Finally, a large, calloused hand brushes against yours as he takes the linen. “Do I look that repulsive to you that you can’t even bear to look at me?”

The remark catches you off guard. You snap your head up, your eyes clashing with his. 

“Repulsive, My Lord?” The words tumble out your lips, and you once again look away, your voice dropping to a bashful whisper that betrays your composure. “Far from it.” 

Your words hang in the air longer than you would like. Sukuna’s expression remains unreadable, something that you’re slowly — but surely — growing accustomed to.

“Hah.” A brief chuckle leaves his lips. “Far from it, you say?”

Theres a hint of intrigue laced in his voice, and he squats down to meet your gaze. You swear he can hear how violent your heart is pounding against your ribs.

“Look at me when you say such things,” he commands, though his voice sounds surprisingly gentle.

Your breath catches in your throat. Slowly, you lift your eyes. Water still trails down the ridges of his chiseled chest in slow, agonizing lines. Droplets gather at the edge of his jaw before dripping down his neck. 

“You are far from repulsive, my Lord.” You comply, your gaze locking into his crimson eyes. He studies your face for a brief moment before a curt chuckle reaches his throat, the corner of his lips curling up into a small smirk. 

“Your eyes are hinting at something that your pretty mouth refuses to speak on.” He murmurs before leaning closer, his warm breath hovering mere inches away from your ears. “If you wish for something, wife, you will learn to ask.”

He pulls away, standing up from his squatting position and flings the cloth over his shoulder. Before a single thought can register in your head, he spins his heel and his back then faces you. 

“I’ll get Tsubuki to fetch you a warm bath.” He says casually, his tone indifferent as though he hadn’t just read you like an open book with a few words. 

He passes by your kneeling figure, his heavy footsteps slowly fading away as he leaves you alone in the swirling mist. 

Being flabbergasted is truly an understatement.

By eventide, you’ve only just recovered from sulking in your chambers when Uraume enters.

“My lady,” the ivory-haired attendant greets you, bowing slightly; their composure remains ever so graceful.

“Uraume,” you acknowledge your husband’s most loyal servant with a curt nod. 

“Lord Sukuna requests your presence in the dining hall,” Uraume states, their expression stoic as stone. “He’d like you to join him at once.”

The walk to the dining hall feels interminable as you follow Uraume through the labyrinthine corridor, the air growing colder as you approach the large doors; the rhythmic thrumming of your heartbeat ringing in your ears. Each step of your sandals on the polished wood echoes through the estate. Uraume’s silence is absolute, their steps weightless akin to that of a spirit’s. 

The flickering candlelight casts long, distorted shadows against the shoji screens as you both near closer, and closer. 

When the Shoji doors finally slide open, the divine scent of meat and sweet fruit hits you. Meat. Your eyes dart over to the large cuts splayed across the platter, glistening under the candlelight. 

“It’s buck meat,” The familiar baritone catches your attention and your gaze travels to your peach-haired husband, sitting at the head of the low table. His bottom arms are crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed. His upper hand is cupped around a persimmon fruit; it looks tiny in his palm. “Come, eat.”

“My lord,” you greet him with a low, respectful bow before taking your seat; the silk of your kimono rustling as you settle onto the tatami. 

You stare down at your plate — it had been prepared so meticulously; thinly sliced venison, garnished with herbs, sat alongside a small mound of rice with a small bowl of soup nearby. With your dominant hand, you reach for the rich venison with your chopsticks until you heard the loud noises of chewing and licking. 

Your hand freezes.

In a pitiful attempt, you attempt to focus on your own portion, however you find your curiosity is repeatedly drawn at such visceral noises. The sound is oddly wet, rhythmic, and utterly visceral. The sound of such loud, wet slurping nearly makes your heart jump out of your chest; it is unabashedly lewd. You swallow nothing, your throat dry. 

Your gaze, betraying your vain attempts at noble decorum, drifts towards the source of the noise — Sukuna’s lower abdomen. And then you see it. Oh, god. Oh. God.

Save me now.

You watch, both transfixed and horrified, as the jagged teeth of the mouth on his abdomen part to take a bite out of the fleshy persimmon; the tongue licking the juice from his skin. Without realizing, your breath hitches at the way his tongue pokes out of his maw, its appetite insatiable. 

As shameful as it is, you want to be that fruit, too. 

“Is your meal not to your liking? I notice your gaze wandering anywhere else but your food.” 

A soft gasp unexpectedly escapes you, and you clamp your mouth shut with your hands. A rush of heat floods your entire body.

Stupid, stupid! 

A loud laugh erupts from the King of Curses’ throat, a sound that vibrates through the floorboards and into your very bones. You want to hide away so badly. 

“So,” Sukuna rumbles, his four eyes narrowing down at your pitiful form.

With a slow, deliberate thumb, he wipes a small smear of the sweet persimmon juice from his abdominal muscle, never breaking eye contact. Inadvertently, your eyes wander lower, your saliva stuck in your throat as you watch his maw reach for the juice on his slick thumb; the tongue swirling around his finger ever so slightly. You attempt to suppress whatever noise that threatens to escape your throat underneath his intense gaze.

Oh my god. Your gaze lifts to the ceiling. Your eyes close. I’m going to hell. 

A dark chuckle echoes across the room. 

“Who would have guessed my little wife has a stomach for the macabre?” The peach-haired male hummed, staring down at you with an amused expression plastered across his face. 

“Who would have also guessed that my wife can be such a pervert?”

He makes sure to accentuate the last word with a mocking tilt of his head, and you feel your face becoming impossibly hotter. 

“You…” You clench your fist, your grip tightening around the wooden chopsticks. “You are being cruel, My Lord.”

The words spill from your lips with gritted teeth.

“Cruel?” Sukuna leans forward from across the table, his massive frame casting a shadow that can almost swallow you whole. The smirk on his lips deepens, revealing a glint of his canines. “I’m merely observing. You’re the one making it so easy for me to read. You’ve spent the last fortnight avoiding my gaze, so tell me, wife. What’s exactly changed?” 

Your response is immediate, it nearly surprises you.

“It’s been a fortnight,” you repeat after him, your voice trembling but rising to meet his. The frustration of fourteen nights spent in a cold, lonely bed — many of the nights you spent wondering if you were merely invisible or simply inadequate—finally boils over; his mockery being the final spark to set the tiniest amount of patience you had left ablaze. 

“It’s been a fortnight and you’ve yet to ask for my presence in your chambers. You call me wife, yet you refuse to bed me. Is this your way of mocking me? Do you even see me as a woman?” 

The silence that follows is absolute — a heavy, suffocating weight that seems to suck the air right out of the room, making you breathless. Behind Sukuna, you can sense Uraume’s usual icy demeanour shatter into that of pure disbelief; their violet eyes widen, fixed on you as if they are staring at a ghost. Tsubuki and Kuri have gone rigid, standing upright like frozen statues with their gazes pinned to the wooden floorboards.

“Out,” he says, his voice a low thrum that is somehow more terrifying than that of a shout. The expression on his face unreadable, but the look in his eyes showed otherwise.

You begin to push back from the table, your lips pressed tightly together. Embarrassment floods over your body in large waves; it was naive to think anything would change after your outburst.

Sukuna clicks his tongue. 

“No. You, stay where you are.” He commands, the authority in his tone anchors you to the spot, He turns his head to the side and barks at the attendants standing nearby. “All of you — out. Now.”

Uraume and the attendants leave the room without question, the shoji doors sliding shut with a soft, final click that echoes throughout the silent dining room. 

Your heart hammers against your chest in rapid motions, your stomach coils into a tight knot. With the absence of the servants, the space feels cavernous, yet the space between you and Sukuna feels dangerously small in proximity. The air looming between you feels unbearably thick. Your instincts are telling you to leave — to run, but your feet stays planted on the tatami. 

“You’re one of many surprises, indeed. Especially with that sharp tongue of yours.” Sukuna says as he slowly rises from his seat, his shadow stretching across the table like a dark tide. He begins to round the table, his footsteps slow, yet heavy. “A fortnight of playing the part of the dutiful wife, yet all this time, you were developing a grudge because I hadn’t yet claimed what was mine?”

He stops in front of you, squatting down to your level. His four eyes stare at you with an unwavering intensity. 

Your throat goes dry as you shuffle beneath his gaze, “I… I apologize if I’ve offended you, My Lord.”

He clicks his tongue, amused. 

“There you go again,” he whistles, brushing his peach locks back with a large palm. “Staring at me like that. Yes, that — like a bitch in heat. Are you even being sincere with your apology?” 

He inches closer. 

“Didn’t I tell you, wife — that if you want something, you’ll have to use your words.”

You’re about to retort a response, but he hooks his index and middle finger underneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his unwavering gaze. A low hum erupts from his throat, a chuckle vibrating against his chest. 

“If only you could see how you look right now.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with fascination and suppressed hunger. “You look famished.”

You try to pull away, to find some shred of your former dignity, but your face betrays you. You are flushed a deep, feverish crimson, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. A look of pure, unadulterated wanton is plastered across your features—a dazed, hungry expression you aren't even aware you’re wearing, but is all laid bare for your husband to see. 

“My Lord…” you mumble out, disdain and arousal laced in your voice. “If… you’re just going to keep teasing me, I’ll have to take my leave.”

Yet, you don’t find it within yourself to leave. 

His face inches closer to yours, his warm breath fanning over your face. He smiles almost mockingly, his eyes reading you intently. “No, you won’t.”

Wordlessly, he sweeps the porcelain dishes off the table in a single motion — the sounds of porcelain shattering echoes athwart the room. You snap your gaze to the piles of broken dishes on the floor, breathless. 

“My lo—!”

Without giving yourself the chance to utter out a single response, his large hands grip at your waist — eliciting a surprised gasp escaping from your lips as he hoists you over the table; seating you on the bare, mahogany wood. The top pair of his eyes remain locked on yours, whilst the bottom pair of his eyes glaze over to the way your lips part, puckering ever so slightly—a silent and subconscious invitation born of the very desperation you tried so vainly to hide. 

One of his lower hands grips at the plush of your thighs, while his upper hands slowly snake around your back, slowly undoing the knot of your obi; loosening the silk fabric. The cool air hits your bare shoulder, a hitched breath escaping your throat, the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen becomes too much for you to bear. With his large frame resting between your legs, it’s impossible to close your legs shut — impossible to hide your arousal. 

Sukuna’s blood red gaze trails down the line of your throat, catching sight of the small, glistening beads of sweat trailing down your flushed skin, disappearing beneath the collar of your kimono toward the swell of your chest.

For the first time since your wedding, the King of Curses—your husband—finally closes the distance. He leans in, his warm breath fans over the nape of your neck. He sniffs at the skin, and you feel yourself shrinking beneath him. 

“M-My Lord,” your breath hitches when you feel his slick tongue trace over your delicate skin. He licks a long stripe along your collarbone, his chest rumbles with a sound so primal. He pulls away, licking his lips.

“You smell sweeter today,” he hums, “taste is immaculate, too.” 

He breaks into grin, “No wonder why you’ve been acting the way you’ve been. Are you even aware that you’re at you’re most fertile today?”

He trails a large finger along the fabric of your kimono, his digit dipping inside ever so slightly into the soft flesh of your abdomen.

 “Your body’s in need of getting a good fuck,” he growls.

“W-what?—” Your pulse races at the filthy words spilling from his tongue. Every syllable is effortless, rolling off his lips as smooth as honey.

He wants to taste you, so fucking bad. Every day spent observing your feigned indifference, every night spent waiting for your pride to shatter, has led to right where he wants you to be. His senses have never failed him.

“Tell me, my little wife.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours — his hot breath ghosts over your lips. It’s taking everything within you to not pull him by the collar of his kimono and crash your hungry lips against his. However, your anticipation precedes you. “Tell me how eager you are to be treated like a slut.”

You being reduced to such a term should have offended you — wound your pride, even. However, you find yourself rocking your hips gently to his derogatory and crude words. It shouldn’t have aroused you much, yet it did. Your walls of pride has long fallen; the need for being touched — the need of having your obscene scenarios coming to life. 

You’ve never been touched, yet your hunger is akin to one of a fucking succubus. 

“Tell me exactly what you want,” a low purr rumbles from Sukuna’s throat, “and I’ll consider giving it to you.”

Consider? 

Your eyes dart down to the large bulge — bulges — nudging against your thigh, and your mouth immediately waters; much akin to your lower lips between your thighs. Your mind’s going haywire at the newfound discovery. He wants this. You truly doubt there was anything else for him to consider.

You want this.

You need this.

The one thing you’ve been aching for an agonizing fourteen nights is merely within your reach.

“Touch me,” you exhale, “please, husband. I need you.”

With a low, guttural growl, his upper hands seize the front of your loosened kimono. Of course, the King of Curses doesn’t bother with the remaining ties keeping your kimono and kosode together; he rips the fabric apart with ease. The sound of tearing fabric rings in your ears, soon followed with a wave of cool air rushing over your chest — your buds growing taut at the contact. The fine embroidery is ruined, hanging in tatters around your hips. Though, he can care less, and so do you. 

You sit on the edge of the wooden table, splayed and bare to his hungry four-eyed gaze. 

He lets out a sharp, jagged breath, his pupils blown wide as he finally sees your pretty cunt coated in all its love juices; your centre slick and glistening — a testament as to how badly you craved for him. 

“You dared to question me whether or not I see you as a woman,” he mumbles, his voice going an octave lower, “as if my restraint wasn’t already a goddamn mercy.”

The silk of his kimono slides from his shoulders in a slow, fluid motion; revealing the true, terrifying scale of his Herculean frame. The candlelight catches the sheen of sweat on his skin, trailing down towards the maw on his abdomen. Its teeth glint, and its tongue flickers out. 

His lower hands slide up the insides of your thighs, the calloused pads of his fingers dragging over the warm, sensitive skin with an agonizing, frustrating slowness. His upper hands trail over your collarbone before dipping down to the center of your chest. He cracks a small smile, amused at the way your heart quickens at his touch. He hasn’t even gotten to the best part yet.

His upper hands continue their slow, possessive descent — it is almost torturous, the pads of his fingers grazing the top of your breasts while his lower hands reach the very apex of your trembling thighs; his palm hovering your aching heat. 

“Hah,” a breathless sound escapes Sukuna’s lips, his lower hands finally making contact with the slick heat between your thighs; his finger dragging through the evidence of your undoing, the sensation of his calloused skin against your sensitive folds elicits a sweet moan escaping your lips. “You’re so fucking drenched.” 

“And whose fault is that?” you retort, your voice just as breathless as your eyes travel down to the hungry maw etched onto his abdomen and your hips thrust upward in a subconscious plea. He follows your gaze and a chuckling scoff escapes his throat. 

“The filth you hide in your mind truly astounds me.” 

He doesn’t pull away — rather, he presses his body closer to yours, his large hands parting your legs further and he shifts your hips. Your mind immediately goes numb. You feel the humid, heavy breath of the maw on his abdomen ghosting over your inner thighs, inches away from your dripping cunt. 

“Please—” your plea finally breaks from your plea in a quiet, broken murmur. 

The word is barely is out before your head snaps, your spine arching off the wooden table as a surprised, sharp gasp of unadulterated pleasure is ripped from your throat as you feel the blunt, calloused tip of his middle finger dipping into your heat. 

A heavy, hitched breath escapes Sukuna’s throat.

“Please, what?” He hums, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he dips his finger deeper; your walls embraces his digit eagerly, pulsing around him desperately. He finds it all so intoxicating. 

Your hands rush to grip at the biceps of his upper arms, your nails digging into his skin. 

He doesn’t stop at one; he slides a second finger inside, relishing in the way your eyes roll back and your lips part. 

“M-My Lord—” you gasp out, but your husband cuts you off. “Call me by my name.”

He curls his fingers deep inside you, finding that sweet, delicious spot that makes your neck croon and toes curl. 

“Sukuna—!” A loud squeal rips from your throat, paired with the intense clenching and pulsing of your pussy around his two digits. He’s relentless. With each powerful thrust of his fingers, he digs deeper, his knuckles bumping against your entrance while continuously hitting your sweet spot in repeated motions. Your hips buck up against his, your nails digging deeper into his shoulder. 

“P-Please—Ah! I want—I want…” You barely gasp out, your mind turning into mush at his cruel ministrations. You’re far beyond embarrassment now, your whole body engulfed with need and sheer arousal. 

“Mmm… want to feel your tongues on me.” The request leaves your lips in a lewd, broken mewl. 

“Fuck. That’s it.” He licks his lips. Each wet, rhythmic slap of his fingers fingers fucking into your pussy and your sweet, restrained moans sends jolts of arousal straight to his dicks — pressing uncomfortably against his hakama. 

He leans his forehead against yours, his crimson gaze staring deep into yours as the thrusts of his fingers increased in force and speed; his pace relentless and punishing, pushes you ultimately to your climax. “I-I’m… I think I’m going to—” your eyes roll back, your body trembles beneath him. 

A loud moan of your husband’s name breaks from your lips. Your back arches violently, your toes curling as your walls clamp down on his fingers. Yet, he doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t relent — relishing in your unraveling by his two fingers. You try to reach his lower arms, but his upper arms stop you; holding your wrist in a vice grip while he continues to destroy your hole with his two, large, digits. 

“Hah. You’ve finally lost it, haven’t you?” A low rumble vibrates against your bare chest. “Just how dirty were your fantasies that you’re begging for both my mouths?”

“W-wait—!” You cry out, your voice cracking as the pressure in your abdomen builds into something well-nigh unbearable. “You’re—AH! Y-You’re gonna make me pee!”

Sukuna doesn’t flinch, rather it gives him even more of a drive to see you let loose.

 “Let go,” he says, his command immediately reaching your belly. It isn’t long before your sweet, hot juices spray across his hand and the tattooed skin of his abdomen. 

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, fascinated at the mess you created. Slowly, he pulls digit out of your heat; his eyes glued to the slick nectar coating around his two fingers. You can only watch in awe and embarrassment as he brings the juices to his mouth, his lingua poking out to slowly lap at his own knuckles; savouring your taste with the focus of a connoisseur. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” his rasp comes out in a strained moan.

Feeling bashful, eyes involuntarily dart lower, only for your skin to flush an immense red. The sight is as hypnotic as it is harrowing. While your husband tastes you above, his maw below has grown restless — your gaze stuck onto the sight as that heavy, muscular tongue lolls out to lap at the juices splayed across your abdomen; primal, wet noises escape the maw and it echoes throughout the dining room. 

You can’t wait any longer. You want him. Now. 

Driven by a sudden, desperate surge of temerity to drown out any remaining shame you have left, you reach up and tangle your fingers into his pink locks, pulling his face down to yours and you finally lock lips. 

Sukuna lets out a brief, surprised hum against your lips, his four eyes widening for a fraction of a second before he melts. He meets your tongue with an overwhelming fervour, one of his upper hands sliding from your waist to cradle the back of your head, softly digging his fingers into your locks. Below, your legs act on their own accord; you hook your ankles behind his his back, your thighs locking around his chiseled torso and bringing his maw closer to your heat. Such a motion hitches your hips upward, dragging your slick, pulsing cunt directly against the heat of his lower mouth.

The reaction is instantaneous — you both moan into the kiss, your tongues entwined into one another while you can feel the maw’s humid breath scorching your inner thighs.  

Sukuna breaks the kiss just enough to huff against your lips, his forehead still pressed firmly against yours. “Fuck, you’re just insatiable, aren't you?”

You can only let out a whimper in response, your head lolling back as the thick, salacious muscle swipes a long line along your drenched slit. “Holy fuck,” is all you can utter. 

He shifts his hips, his lower hands reaching down to grip your knees and spread you even wider on the mahogany table, a raspy chuckle leaves his lips when the tongue pokes out of his abdomen to lap greedily at your pussy before entering inside — eliciting a sweet cry to escape from your throat. 

The noises that escape you are no longer coherent; loud sobs of pleasure and heavy breaths bounce off the high ceilings. You are pinned, splayed, and utterly consumed. 

He rocks his hips slowly, grinding his maw against your heat as it messily laps at your folds, glistening the skin in both your juices and its saliva. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, a breathless moan escaping your lips. 

“Look at you,” Sukuna purrs, his upper eyes’ pupils blown wide in pure arousal — it almost felt predatory. “You’re taking him so well. How does it feel acting like a harlot when this is your first time ever being touched by a man?”

“I-I’ve always been so — Mmh!” You roll your head back once more, a hitched cry leaves your pretty — drool-drenched lips. “You had… always—ngh! Piqued my interest—!” 

“So much that you’ve become curious as to what my two mouths could do to you? I’m starting to wonder if you’ve spent those nights dreaming the same about my cocks.” 

The thought alone makes your heart Hammer against your ribs. Of course, you have. How could you not?

“You had never summoned me, despite me waiting for days.” You say quietly, biting your lips as you feel his maw fuck its tongue deeper into your hole. “Ahn! So… I-I just let my mind wander.”

“Do you realize how easily you could’ve had me if you used that voice of yours? Hm?”

He licks a small stripe along your incarnadine lips, his lips brushing against the corners of your lips. His hot breath sends a wave of shivers and arousal down your spine. 

He rasps, “You could have crawled to me on the first night — begged, even. And I might have let you taste a fraction of this. You could have dropped that pride of yours and you wouldn’t to rely on such imagination.”

The tongue inside you flickers with a sudden, rapid intensity; briefly exiting your hole before the muscle begins swirling around your clitoris — flicking at the firm, sensitive bud before the mouth circles around it and sucks — drawing your clitoris into his abdomen. 

“Is this anything like you’ve imagined?” He teases, despite the cocky edge in his voice, he sounded strained; his breath raspy and heavy, hitching in tandem with the frantic rhythm of his lower mouth as it devours your pussy. “Answer me, slut.” 

“It’s s’much bettER—Ah!”

You feel as though air is completely knocked out of your lungs, your mind drowning in the immense pleasure he is giving you. The sensation of his maw sucking your clit with such vigour — it’s driving you mad — just as much as it is affecting him.

“Fuck…” He grunts, the profanity torn from his throat as his abs ripple and spasm against your inner thighs.

His cocks pulse frantically beneath the thin fabric of his hakama — the need growing from below has become far too much for him to bear — his patience already wears thin. He needs more. The table alone won’t be enough for what he wants to do so desperately with you.

“We’re going to my chambers.” He growls, his voice dripping with pure, carnal need. 

He doesn’t spare you a second to recover; his lower hands dive under the your thighs, his large hands gripping the plush of your ass with a bruising strength and hoisting you off the mahogany table in one motion. Your hands immediately find refuge in the crevices of his shoulder, snaking your arms around his large frame as he hoists your trembling body up — your cunt still dripping from the relentless assault of his second mouth. You dig your canines into his neck, stifling the loud cries that threaten to slip past your lips. 

With you in his arms, he makes large strides towards the shoji. Though, the maw on his abdomen doesn’t cease to quit; it continues to lap and swirl around your dripping entrance greedily. You inhale sharply, biting your lip, trying to both stabilize and ground yourself.

The shoji flies open with a sharp, echoing clack!

Though, your heart plummets into your stomach — your skin pales. 

Tsubuki and Kuri stands as stlll as statues along the walls, their head bowed in practiced, chilling discipline. They don’t flinch at the sight of their master half-bare, nor do they look up to catch sight of his naked wife in his arms — completely at the mercy of the mouth on his stomach; a mixture of your juices and its saliva dripping down onto the polished wood board.

Despite their stone-faced expressions, you find it hard not to notice the tinge of red staining the tips of their ears. As disciplined as they are, they are neither deaf nor foolish.

“I feel you tightening around his tongue,” he whispers in your ear, “does this arouse you?”

A feverish heat consumes your entire face, and you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. You pray for the ground below you to open up and swallow you whole, yet your body betrays you; breathless moans escapes your lips, muffled only by the hot, sweaty skin of his shoulder. 

“Let’s go already,” you whine, your voice muffled by his skin. 

His heavy strides echoes through the corridor, with every step, your hips meet with the maw. With every step, you’re shocked with jolts of pleasure. Eventually he reaches the shoji leading to his chambers, and he slides them open. Not even a moment after, the wooden door slides shut with a loud thud.

The air in his chambers feel heavy, the strong scent of cedar and sandalwood incense immediately fills your nostrils. 

He doesn’t bother with the futon. Rather, Sukuna pins you against the nearest wall, the sudden impact eliciting a sharp, breathless gasp. He locks his lips against yours, and with a subtle tilt of his head, he deepens the kiss — his tongue dominating yours with ease. He pulls away, sloppily kissing at your neck down to your collarbone; his large, calloused palms molding the soft mounds of your breast, his thumbs lazily flicking and rolling your nipples until he feels your hips jerk against his.

Your breath hitches.

His lips only trail lower and lower until he reaches your breast, engulfing the hardened bud inside his mouth. He returns the same love to your other breast before his lips trail lower, and lower; passing your abdomen and inching closer to your heat. A broken whimper escapes your throat, your fingers traveling up and finding solace in his roseate locks as he sinks to his knees before you. 

His large, calloused hands palm the plush of your ass, nearly bruising the soft skin as he pulls you closer to his face. His tongue is softer, hitting your spots with controlled movements 

“Pl-Please,” You stammer in between soft moans, “I want you now.”

“You can wait,” he replies, his voice muffled as his lips remain on your cunt; his chin drenched in both his drool and your juices. “You’ve always been good at that.”

“You can handle a few more minutes of me tasting you,” He says before wrapping his lips tightly around your clit, sucking around the sensitive bud tightly. Looking up, his four eyes are all fixated on you; relishing in the way your body unravels beneath his tongue. He nearly moans at the sight; his grip tightening around your ass, his fingers digging into the skin. 

“So sweet,” he groans against your skin. 

In the midst of his torture, his lower hands abandon your ass, and they trail down past the rigid muscle of his abdomen with a newfound hurriedness. Then, the silence of the room — paired with your heavy breathing — is punctuated by the heavy rustle of fabric as his hakama finally drops to the wooden floor.

Holy shit. 

Sukuna doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at the sight, or the way your throat goes dry. In languid movements, he strokes his upper cock with his hand. It takes everything within him not to cackle when he hears you audibly gulp at the lewd sight; your gaze hopelessly trapped by the steady motions of his hand. 

“You still want this?” He questions, his voice dripping in arousal. “Or is it more than you can handle?”

“Of course I do,” you reply almost immediately, as your voice eventually quiets; your eyes narrowing into the daunting size of his girth. 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Good.”

With a sudden burst of movement, his upper hands snatch your waist, hoisting you off the floor as if you weight nothing at all. A surprised yelp leaves you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips and your fingers digging into his brawny, tattooed shoulders as he strides toward the futon. 

He drops you onto the silk, the impact firm enough to make your hips bounce and your hair fan out across the fabric below you. And before you can even register what’s going on, his massive shadow looms over your frame; the mattress of the futon dipping under his weight as he crawls between your knees as his frame effortlessly pushes your legs farther apart. 

His upper hands reach down, his calloused fingers hooking firmly behind your knees to hike them up toward your chest — a position that leaves your drenched cunt bared and vulnerable to his gaze. 

“Look at you,” he murmurs, licking his lips. With one hand, he lazily brings his lower cock up and slaps the heavy, pulsing length against your heat — watching the way the tip of his cock drags through the pool of your shared slickness before slapping it against you once more. “Your body’s practically begging to be filled, ha.”

He pushes your knees further up and pins them toward your shoulders, eliciting a surprised gasp of his name to tumble past your lips. The moment you feel his tip push inside, you keen. 

“God!” A small scream erupts from your throat, your neck craning back into the pillows. The sharp pain immediately strikes you as your walls struggle to accommodate to the sheer size of his —

“Are you really screaming another man’s name when I’m inside you?” He teases, though the humor in his voice is tempered by a strained groan. He rocks his hips slowly, claiming your walls inch by inch. Your cunt’s just as greedy, your walls gripping onto each ridged vein of his monster girth as he slides deeper. All that follows are your sweet moans and whimpers gracing his ears.

“Shit — you’re clenching around me like a fucking vice.” He hisses, tilting his head back slightly. The muscles in his jaw tightens, his four eyes narrowing down at you; his pupils blown wide in some sort of primal desire. “You have to relax for me if you want me to go in all the way.”

“There’s more?!” You exclaim, your voice nearly cracking.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he says as he presses your further into the mattress, “but I’m barely halfway.” 

“Y-You’re going to rip me apart,” you stammer softly, a faint, instinctual fear blooming in your chest as you look up at the Herculean man above you. 

“With how wet you are for me right now? I doubt it.” He counters, smiling as his voice drops low into a whisper. “Besides, you are going to take it. I will make sure of it.”

With another deliberate tilt of his pelvis, he drives another inch of his cock into you. He relishes the way your eyes roll back at the sensation, your back arching off the mattress as your breath hitches into a high-pitched whine. What began as a brief, sharp sting quickly transitions into pure, unadulterated bliss — a hot spark that short-circuits your every thought and takes over you whole.

“Fuck, fuck…” He hisses under his breath, his jaw tight. The friction of your walls, pulsing and squeezing around him so sweetly is nonetheless, for him, pure torture. “You’re so tight — so goddamn perfect. I’m going all the way now, okay? You feel so fuckin’ good.”

With that, the peach-haired male anchors himself and with a sudden surge of his hips, he drives forward, burying the remaining length of his cock in one motion; his pelvis slamming flush against yours. A loud, needy sob dies in your throat as he fills you to the very brim, stretching your walls in a way that you didn’t realize felt possible — let alone pleasurable. It leaves you utterly breathless, yet yearning for more. 

Sukuna’s brows knit together in a sharp V, stifling whatever noises that threaten to escape his throat. His blunt, manicured nails digs deeper into the flesh of your hips, anchoring you to the futon as he commences a merciless pace. 

“S-Suk—un—“ You try to utter your husband’s name in between moans and broken gasps, your voice getting more incoherent as seconds pass. Your eyes roll back, a thin trail of drool escaping your parted lips. “I-I’m go—fuck! P-Please I’m so close—”

With your knees pinned back and your body tilted at such a punishing angle, your husband makes mean, effortless contact with your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips; the tip of his cock kissing your sensitive womb. The wet, lewd slap of skin meeting skin echoes through the chamber — paired with the needy moans that escapes your lips as he fucks you through your nth orgasm of the night.

Even through the haze of the pleasure clouding your thoughts, you can’t ignore the heavy, pulsing weight resting against your navel. Without thinking twice, your hand reaches out, your fingers curling around the girth of his upper cock; your small palm sliding over his pulsing length as your thumb languidly presses against the tip, smudging his pre-cum across the skin. 

A surprised hiss leaves Sukuna’s lips, his rhythm faltering for a brief moment as his four-eyed gaze snaps down to where your hand lies before traveling back up to yours. You still look fucked out — wide-eyed and breathless — but despite having your shit absolutely ruined, you still look adorable as ever. 

“Mmh. Keep going. Just like that.” He commands, though the authority that was once present in his voice is beginning to fray. Small, involuntary groans tear out of his throat as he attempts to maintain his composure. However, with your hand working him above and your pussy practically milking him from below, he, too is coming undone — much closer to his limit than he’d ever care to admit. 

Low moans of your name tumbles past his lips as he rocks his hips into yours, his pace growing more frantic and uncontrolled by the second; his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pulls you closer — the tip of his cock kissing your cervix each time, and his upper length gliding against the gentle palms of your hand. 

Glancing down at your trembling figure, your face contorting in pure bliss, and your lips drenched in your own drool as you pathetically try to suppress your noises — You look absolutely undone, and he loves every single bit of it. He licks a long stripe along your ankle, before pressing a chaste kiss against the sweaty skin; grinning at the way your body immediately jolts at the sensation. 

“You…” He begins in a low murmur, though you can feel him smile against your skin. “I’m going to put all my seed in you, and you’re going to take it. All of it.”

He almost laughs at the way your walls squeeze around his cock almost immediately, as if it is begging for him to do so. You, however, can only whimper out jumbled out a series of ‘yes, please’ 

“Fucking harlot,” he bemuses, “out of all the normal men on this earth, the only one your cunt’s craving so shamelessly for just had to be some abomination?”

He leans closer, pressing his cock somehow deeper; he devours the sound of your keen, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. “Take it,” he snarls, the command sends jolts throughout your entire body. 

“Please, fuck. I need — Ngh! Please ‘Kuna, I need it—”

With one final thrust and a deep, guttural groan, he pins you into the mattress with his weight; his fingers digging into the back of your thighs as all your vision turned to white. The sensation is immediate — a hot, pulsing warmth that seems to fill every hollow of your being. His upper cock twitches above your abdomen, spilling out hot spurts of his thick, white seed across your skin, painting a messy trail from the curve of your abdomen all the way up to your flushed, breathless face. 

The silence that follows is heavy, broken only by your shallow pants; the air thick with the scent of salt and sex. You can barely find the strength to move your legs, your muscles still twitching from your release.

Sukuna’s large figure looms over you, all four of his eyes tracking the way your chest heaves and your gaze struggles to focus, seemingly committing every detail to memory. Most importantly, his eyes trail over your body and the way his seed maps across your skin like it was a work of art. He moves slowly, his upper hand reaching towards your flushed face.

His thumb finds the streak of white across the apples of your cheek, swiping at the skin with a newfound gentleness. Despite the fondness that’s present in his expression, there’s also a smug look that’s faintly etched across his face as he brings the digit towards your mouth. You’re truly no better as you wordlessly stick your tongue out, meeting his gaze with a heavy-lidded, breathless stare. Stripped off all your pride, you let your tongue swirl around his digit before sucking on it softly — cleaning his finger free from his cum. 

With another hand, he brushes his fingers across the soft locks of your hair.

“Good girl,” Your husband murmurs, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear before dragging lower towards your jaw. He smiles, almost teasingly.

“I don't know what other thoughts you have swimming around in your head, but I hope you didn’t think a single round would be enough to tire me." He leans closer, brushing his lips against your ear. "After a fortnight of waiting, I'm more than certain you feel the same way."

It was young love. Something harsh yet full of passion. 

Built over bars and coffee dates, late nights, and promises you weren’t sure either of you would even keep, it was a fire that burned quick and bright. Leaving aches and hidden scars all over, ones you wouldn’t even feel or know they were there until they scabbed. 

He was older, you were freshly out of college. 

A defense attorney with a life already built and a girl with her life ahead of her. 

In your vows, he promised the world at your very fingertips. His heart and soul yours to keep. You promised him the rest of your life. 

And it was good. The life you lived together. 

A cute apartment in Tokyo, fancy dinners, late night talks in your tiny kitchen. Sunlight coming in from the windows and covering your bodies as he touched you with a gentleness that felt grounding. 

His lips were soft against your skin, whispering sweet words no boys your age could ever imagine saying. 

He brought you gifts, small “it made me think of you”’s written on tiny sticky pads that littered themselves all across your home. 

His hands always stayed at your hips, holding you close to him. In line at the grocery store, while you cooked dinner or even just got ready. The feeling of his fingertips squeezing flesh stayed and surrounded you even when he wasn’t there. 

And at night he would renew it all over again. 

Your hips tilted high, your cheek in the pillow as you tried to muffle your moans. 

His hands squeezed you softly, before you felt his palm make its way down to the base of your spine. He would press down at your back, deepening the arch you held while his heavy hips met with yours.

His moans were low, deep groans in your ear as he whispered words only a lover could.

“So tight.”

“So good for me.” 

His hands always drifted back to your hips and held you tightly, fingertips digging into your supple flesh as his strokes became heavier and deeper with every thrust. 

“Good girl, you’re mine.” 

His pace would quicken, your combined whimpers growing desperate in the thick air of the room. 

“I love you.” 

“My love, my only love.”

He would whimper over and over when he was close. And when his hand moved to intertwine your fingers with his own, you felt him spill deep inside of you. 

His presence was heavy, surrounding and filling you inside until you couldn’t breathe. 

Your body ached with the marks he left you with, but it made you happy. Being his. 

It made his vows feel real, a reminder of the promise he was meant to keep. 

But as a bright flame does, the passion burned quick, fading away too fast. 

Time went on, life started to pull you apart.

His job at the law firm began to demand more of him. He started working late into the night, leaving home earlier than usual and constantly bringing work with him back the few times he allowed himself to rest from the office. 

Cases that he shouldn’t be so invested in turned into cases that consumed his entire being, the bags beneath his eyes growing until that tired stare that used to look at you with love became unrecognizable. 

He was consumed by it. The strong sense of justice within his heart pulled him in and pushed you away. 

You waited, told yourself you were satisfied with whatever it was he still managed to give you. 

Told yourself that his soft ‘i love you’ and ‘i miss you’s were enough as they filled your ears. That the quick touches he gave you still made you feel complete. 

You said nothing, did nothing but held your tongue. Told yourself that him being here was simply enough. 

Until eventually, the weak kisses stopped too. 

His soft whispers faded into lousy ‘working late, you can go to bed’ texts. His hands only seemed to be able to grip the countless papers he brought home with him every night instead of you. 

Then one night, in the dim light of your empty bedroom as you waited for him to come home, did you realize just how different the two of you were after all. 

A relationship built on burning coal. Stolen glances, quick hands and tender touches, long kisses and not enough words to truly know the other. 

You realized too late that you needed love, to be held like dripping water from a sacred stream to feel alive. He needed support, a pillar to keep him up and grounded. 

Passion and action were your currency, his was simply being there. 

A defense attorney and a girl who had her life ahead of her.

The differences between the two of you started to burn in the wedding band he gave you. 

The cold promises he whispered melted in the gold squeezing across your skin. And then everything else started to crack. 

The softness of your home became tense, words being bitten back as arguments you started kept being put on hold. 

It was the little things mostly. The way he left his shoes at the door and didn't bother to put them in the rack. His tie being thrown on the floor as he undressed, his jacket wrinkled when you hadn’t found the time to iron it. The way you seemed to lounge about the house, never doing anything and hardly having a life. 

It was small comments, whispers. 

He nibbled, you bit and chewed loud enough to try to get a reaction out. He never gave in.

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

The life he promised became too small, the world he gave you too restrained. Trapped inside of an apartment you couldn’t even escape or feel like it was yours anymore, everywhere you looked you were reminded of him. 

His face, his clothes, his utensils and utilities that he had bought only for you. But none of it was really yours anyways. 

Living felt like a prison, the wedding band your chains. 

It was solid evidence that you were still his, in name and in law, but you weren’t even sure if he was yours anymore. 

“I think we should get a divorce.” You finally managed to say to him one night. The words rushed and unsure as you blurted them out, your tongue heavy with the tears you bit back from spilling from your eyes. 

You words were as loud as a pin dropping in the silence of your home. 

You said them at dinner, the only one he’d managed to make it back in time to catch in months. 

His eyes, the one that seemed to soften and fill with words he never said when he looked at you, went blank. 

They didn’t judge, they didn’t search or stare. Just… blank. 

Dumbfounded. Lost. 

The fork in his hand trembled before he put it down, and that lost look went away with a blink.

He coughed, “Are you sure?” And his voice was thick with something you couldn’t recognize. 

“Yes.” You said too quickly, your heart pounding in time with the gavel still ringing at the back of your head. 

He only nodded before finishing his meal. 

He was a lawyer after all. Though not a divorce one, he tried his best and knew how to make the process the least messy as possible. Quiet and smooth, steady. The opposite of how this all had started in the first place. 

You tell yourself you should be thankful for it. The fact he didn’t put up a fight, he did what you wanted and asked as he always had. 

But it only made the anger inside of your chest burn hotter, brighter than before. 

Why didn’t he put up a fight? How could he give up so easily? On you, on this marriage. 

Though you supposed you’d already done the same to him a long time ago. 

But still, it made you wonder. Was it all nothing to him? 

☆

Days went by, the agreement still hung heavy in the air of your home. 

It lingered loudly, like a foul smell from something nasty that you couldn’t seem to forget. It clung to your skin, sticking to every strand of your hair and settling into the very clothes you wore. 

You felt it in your bed, the remaining warmth of him finally slipping away as he moved to sleeping on the couch since that night. 

You never realized just how big the room was, how cold it seemed when he wasn’t there besides you. Sure, you’d already spent months like this, alone and clinging onto the safety of a blanket that only smelled like him. But even then, the soft scent of coffee and cigarettes still held the promise of him coming back to you within each thread.  

He hardly looked at you now, his eyes only stealing passing glances before walking away. 

His every movement was slow, quiet and calculated as to not bother you.

He made no noise when he came into the room to get ready. The sound of him brushing his teeth barely reaching past a hum in the apartment before he came back out to prepare his coffee like a whisper. 

He left for work early, he came back home even later. 

You knew it was for distance, he was giving you the space you hadn’t even found the courage to ask for. Yet, why did it still feel like he was everywhere? 

His absence felt louder now, real in the way it hadn’t felt before. 

Why did it make you miss him?

You tried to forget it, to calm down at the reality you were now facing and no longer imagining. 

Divorce. Separation. Leaving. Real. Happening. The words looped over and over in your mind as you tried to process them. 

“It takes some time to even get the papers, but we’ll sign them right away when we get them.” He told you before heading out to work this morning. 

Thinking about them now almost made bile spit up from your throat, your body locking up as you waited and watched the front door from the corner of your eye.

It was late, the city lights twinkling like stars outside of your windows, and he still hadn’t come back home. But when was the last time he even came back on time?

You sat on the couch, curled up with your knees to your chest watching some cheesy romantic comedy when you heard the faint jingle of keys. 

Your ears perked up, body involuntarily tensing as the door handle rattled. 

A bang, a thump, and more rattling came from the other side. 

Your brows furrowed, confusion settling in as you got half the mind to walk up and see what was wrong, but a few seconds later it finally opened. 

And in came a stumbling, disheveled Hiromi. 

In the time you had been together, you had never known him to be anything but the well groomed and put together man he was. His suit was never creased, his hair always combed back and not a piece of lint clung onto him. Though his eyes were always tired, permanent bags beneath the skin, they were never anything but focused and aware. 

But this. This man suddenly standing in front of you was not the husband you had come to know.

His hair is messy, strands falling over his forehead and blocking the view of his eyes. His jacket is wrinkled, the shirt beneath crumbled up like some paper ball come undone. The top few buttons have popped off, as if he was gripping his chest in desperation to be free of it.

His eyes were practically bloodshot, wide and glossy with unshed tears. A look you couldn’t recognize. 

They flickered all over the room, lost and worried before settling on you. You can only watch as pure devastation fills his gaze as he takes you in. 

His breath is heavy, chest rising and falling at a frantic pace before he whispers your name. 

The sound is like an arrow to your heart.  

Another loud thump, and you realize he’s fallen onto his knees. 

He says your name again, drawing out and feeling every syllable on his tongue. His hands tug at his tie, grasping and ripping the damn thing off like it was stealing the very air he breathed. 

His eyes never leave you, wandering over your body before finding your own. 

The look he gives you sends a chill up your spine. 

“H-Hiromi.” You stutter out, though it's barely a whisper. 

“My love.” He groans back. 

He’s messy, throwing his shoes off before stumbling out of his jacket. His gaze doesn’t leave yours even as he positions himself on his hands and knees, body shaking and trembling with some primal want as he begins a slow and devastating crawl towards you. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I can’t.” He admits with a slur in his mouth, the wetness of his eyes only growing as he gets closer. 

“You’re all I can manage to focus on, day and night.” 

The sound of his pants shuffling over the carpet sounds like a roar in the quiet of the living room, your breaths caught within your chest. 

He’s slow, creeping in close like some predator hunting its prey. You’re hypnotized, your heart beating too quick and too loud to even let you pull your eyes away from the sight. 

He’s crawled close enough to reach the end of the couch, and you can finally smell it. 

Sweet, sour. 

Alcohol. 

“Hiromi, you’re drunk.” You try to scold, but the way he’s looking at you with those eyes— god those fucking eyes, it sounds like anything but.  

“No, ‘m not.” He replies, settling on his haunches by where you rest your knees. “I had a few. But I’m real. I’m here.” 

His hand rises from the floor, slowly grazing over your skin. 

He cuffs his hand around your ankle, feeling the way your pulse thrums beneath your skin. 

His fingertips are light, gentle and hot as he traces over your bare calf, inching higher and higher until he settles his head within your lap. 

You bite back a gasp, the weight and heat of him shocking you. 

He grips your knees, holding you close and tight. As if he was willing you to not pull away. Like he was trying to convince himself you were real too. 

“Please.” The man whimpers, lips practically quivering as the word leaves him. “All I have is you.” 

He nuzzles his cheek into your thigh, eyes peering up at you in desperation. The gloss of his eyes finally manifests itself into tears, the droplets sliding out and now wetting your skin. 

“What’s mine is yours, right? My vows.” 

The look in his eyes is raw, unhidden and bare with everything that he’d been hiding before. The late nights at the office, the countless days spent apart– they all seem to come rushing and spilling out of him. 

“You took my heart and had it longer than I ever did.” 

He kisses your skin, hands trembling at your knees before rising up to settle at your hips. 

He grips the fat harshly, he looks at you so softly. And you’re suddenly reminded of how he looked when you two met. 

Strong, composed, a man who calculated every passing moment. The complete opposite of what lay in front of you now. 

Your heart squeezes, an ache settling in your chest as you try to figure out what to say. But you can’t find any words that feel right, instead your body seems to react faster than your brain can. 

Your fingers comb through his hair, pushing back the messy locks from his forehead so you can finally see his face.  

There’s a blush high on his cheeks, a slight scrape on one side that your thumb brushes over. 

You hiss imagining the slight sting he would feel, but he only moans at your touch. His mouth practically drooling as his eyes roll back into his head, closing them shut as he tries to lean in closer. 

“Please…” He whimpers again, opening his eyes and blinking away a few stray tears. 

His fingers dip into your skin, thumbing at the fabric of your flimsy shorts. 

“I can make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.”

He grips at the cloth desperately, practically tearing it apart.

It shouldn’t have made your spine shiver the way it did. It shouldn’t have made your pussy so wet with the way he looked up at you. 

But he hasn’t touched you in so long . He hasn’t whispered how much he’s needed you in ages. 

There’s a need in your skin you can’t ignore, the feeling blooming and taking over every rational part of your brain that you have left. 

You can’t even bring yourself to say it, only nod your head as a pathetic little whimper spills from your lips when you do so. 

He’s quick to rip your shorts off, tearing the wet fabric of your panties along with them before spreading your legs. 

In a swift motion, he throws a thigh over his shoulder, settling between them as if it was the place he’d always meant to belong.

He wastes no time, thick tongue immediately coming out to dive into your dripping folds. 

He moans at your taste, licking a fat stripe from your fluttering hole to your clit, lapping up at the gushes of slick that seep out of your warm cunt. 

“So wet f’me, baby.” He groans like a man intoxicated, the words muffled and even more slurred as he licks another stripe. “Missed your pussy so much.” 

He buries his nose into your mound, the peak nudging into your clit as his tongue laps at the wetness spilling from you. He flicks and rolls the muscle all over, teasing your entrance before pushing flat and lapping up soft, quick lines to your clit. 

Your hips jolt, hands burying themselves in his hair as you cry out his name. 

He groans in response, eyes rolling back as he brings his tongue back down to dip into your fluttering hole, coaxing out more slick to gush as he opens his mouth wider. 

Your legs start to tremble and squeeze around his head, overwhelming pleasure attacking you all at once. His hands hold you steady, knuckles turning bone white at the way they grip the fat of where your thighs and ass meet, pulling your legs further apart to feel you deeper. 

He practically drools and groans at the way your hands have started to pull at his hair, fingertips gripping onto him like a lifeline as you desperately try to push him away with a weak and shaking strength. 

“H-iro.” You whimper, feeling the pleasure start to spread throughout your body. It curls within your belly, spreading to your fingertip and toes until it makes you light headed. 

Your body burns, bright and quick at the way he laps and gives you open mouth kisses, trying to devour and tongue every inch of you that is exposed. 

You try to pull away again, your hips arching back from his touch, but he doesn’t stop. 

His tongue teases and dips into your fluttering hole over and over, licking up every drop that squirts out. 

His chin is covered in it, the sound obscene as he slurps and laps all over your pussy.

He licks a long stripe up your core, the tip of his tongue finding the sensitive bud of your clit and pushing his focus onto the poor thing. 

It aches from sensitivity, the pressure of his lips sucking on it only making your body bow and hands grip onto his hair tighter.

“Hiromi!” You moan, the sound echoing off the walls and only making him suck harder.  

The muscles of your body grow taught, thighs stiff yet still shaking as you feel a tightness in your belly start to build. 

Your walls clench around nothing, breath becoming shaky as you try to whimper out some warning words, but he pulls away before you can even utter them.  

The tightness of your body falls away, your bones becoming jelly and you whine at the sudden loss of his quick, needy movements.

His lips leave you with a soft pop, the sound wet and obscene as he grips the flesh of your thighs harder. Like he was trying to ground and hold himself from diving back in. 

He’s panting, teary eyes gazing back up into your own as his hot breath brushes over your sensitive pussy, making you jolt and try to push away. 

“Mm don’t run,” He whispers, voice hoarse and thick with need. 

His hands grip harder, sliding you down the couch until your ass practically falls off of it. His hands splay themselves over your cheeks, holding your thighs over his shoulders as he tries to feel you closer. 

“So good, so good, baby.” He licks his lips, savoring the taste you left upon his skin before nuzzling his cheek into the fat of your thigh.

He hums at the softness of the touch, lips parting in bliss before moving to kiss along the skin. He starts with a small trail, gentle and steady before beginning to bite and nibble small marks into the flesh.  

“You missed me too, right?” 

His eyes are half lidded, tired in the way they always were yet burning with a raw need as they look up at you. 

It makes your chest tighten again, pussy clenching around nothing as you whine out a pathetic little sound. Words are lost to you, your brain a scrambled mess as you peer at the man resting between your thighs. 

The sound makes him smile, his body suddenly shifting so that only one arm holds your weight now. 

You feel it before you even see it, thick fingers parting your wet lips. A soft schlick noise as he spreads you open for him to touch and see. 

“Can tell you did, look at her.”  

His fingers rub over your folds, spreading and moving your arousal all around. It coats his digits as he parts them, scissoring and petting your pussy while his fingertips nudge and tease your clit with featherlight touches. 

Your entire body throbs, sweat building and dripping from the heat that courses through your veins until you can’t take it anymore.

He dips into your tight cunt, filling you up until you cry out. 

“So wet…” He groans, watching the way you clench and tighten, poor pussy not wanting to let go after being empty for so long.

“Hiromi, please I need you.” You whimper out, finally finding enough strength in your bones to pull at his head and speak any string of words. “I need you, I need you.” 

Your plea’s fall out like a mantra, slurred and barely coherent as your hips buck up into him while you feel tears start to build in your own eyes. 

There’s a pout on your face, plump lips parting in a way that makes his cock twitch and spill at the sight. 

He gulps, closing his eyes for a split second before opening them back up. 

His gaze falls on your pussy again, watching the way you continue to gush and clench around his fingers as he slowly pumps them in and out. 

“Always so needy.” He sighs, biting back a smirk as he slowly pulls his fingers out. 

Before you can realize, he’s settling you back on the couch. Your back flush with the cushion, his legs spread over your own before raising one to wrap around his hip. 

You gasp, surprised at the quickness in which he moved you and the sight of his presence looming over you. 

Tall, tired, and just as needy as you, Hiromi Higuruma stares into your eyes the same way he did on your wedding night. Fueled by pure passion and want. 

“Open,” He taps his still wet fingers on your lower lip, you obey. 

He shoves them in slowly, fingers pushing past your teeth before rubbing the pads all over your wet tongue. 

Your cheeks fill around his hand, drool spilling down your chin. He pushes them in and out slowly, keeping the same pace he did earlier. The push toward the back of your mouth, a small gag escaping you before you stare up at him and start to suck at them slowly. 

“Good girl,” His voice is lower than a whisper as he says the words. It rumbles up from within his chest, rising out of him as he pushes the pads of his fingers down the middle of your tongue. But in it, there’s a kind of hurt. 

“Always so good for me.” 

His free hand comes up to swipe a stray hair that clings onto your cheek, his thumb softly rubbing at your skin. 

He leans his body in closer, the clothes of his hips pushing flush against your bare ones. You can feel the heat of him even through the fabric, his cock hard and aching. 

“You want my cock?” He thrust against you once, rubbing the outline of him in a slow and agonizing pull against your folds. He lets the feeling linger before pulling away.

You moan around his fingers, nodding softly and looking at him with pleading eyes. 

“Aw, yeah?” He hums, his voice dripping in a mocking tone. He thrusts again, this time quicker. 

A crease in his pants nudges against your clit, pressing hard against the bundle of nerves. It makes your back arch, legs trembling before you frantically start to nod again. 

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you buck your hips against him, your mind past the point of return as his warmth envelops you. 

He smirks once more, his hand brushing into your hair before pulling away. 

“It’s okay, my love. I’ve got you.” 

His fingers retreat from your lips, a string of saliva connecting them and falling over your breasts as he brings the hand down to unbuckle his belt. 

His movements are quick, the sharp sound of him removing his pants loud and ringing through your ears as you can only watch him pull his cock out. 

Your breath catches, something you always did no matter how many times you saw it. 

Long, hard and aching with a soft red tip— his cock twitches and pulses with need. He takes himself in a large hand, slowly jerking himself off as he spreads the soft beads of pre spilling from his tip all over. 

He groans softly, hissing through his teeth when he rolls his thumb over the sensitive top before aiming it down to rub in between your folds. 

He parts your wet lips again, rubbing and pressing his aching cock between them, gathering your slick until it shines all over him. He thrusts into you gently, tip knocking against your clit until you’re both filling the air with whiny little noises.

“Please,” You moan, hands coming up to grip at his large shoulders, “Just fuck me already.” 

He has to bite a groan back at that. 

He gulps again, only nodding his head before breathlessly saying, “Of course, my love.” 

He stretches you out slow, filling you up inch by devastating inch. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t enter in one soft swoop but instead lets you feel every vein and pulse of him inside your tight cunt. 

Just like he always did.   

From the way his cock curves slightly up, to the way his tip rubs against the gummy spot along your walls, you clench around the thickness of him, feeling everything that he has to give. 

He’s not even moving much yet there’s still a soft squelching noise that comes from where the two of you meet, the sound ringing in your ears. 

He bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, his hips flush against you as his heavy balls rest against your ass. 

You feel so full, the sensation having stolen the breath from your lungs. Your hands grip at his shoulders harder, trying to steady yourself and not to focus too hard on the feeling of him inside of you.But the feeling of him consumes you entirely anyways. 

From the warmth of his large chest pressed upon your own to the way his heavy thighs hold yours on them. He’s everywhere, he’s everything at this very moment. You almost forget just how long it’s been since you’d felt like this. 

He whimpers softly above you, his own breath heavy as he gets used to the feeling of your fluttering walls around him. 

His brows furrow, a crease in between them as he bites his tongue and holds back from moving his hips. 

Inside, you can feel him twitch. The soft stutters he resists from pulling into, the way he feels you gush and try to pull him in closer. 

“Move.” You gasp out after a few seconds, the fire in your fingertips running down his own back. “Need you to move.”

He nods in response, wasting no time before obeying.

His thrusts are deep, slowly and steady as he pushes his hips almost all the way back before snapping fully into you over and over again. 

His cock hits the deepest parts, nudging and rubbing at the gummy spot in your walls as the soft hairs of his pelvis stimulate the small bundle of nerves with every crash of his hips. 

It's soft, warm and intimate in the way he always used to take you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer as he dives in to kiss your neck. 

He nuzzles into the softness of your skin, kissing over and over along the lines of your throat before sucking at your pulse point. 

You jolt, crying out when he does so in time with his cock hitting your cervix. You clench tightly, gushing out all over him and he moans at the feeling. 

He continues sucking at the skin, leaving tiny marks before trailing a small line of drool down to your chest. Your shirt had been taken off long ago, somewhere between him eating you out and laying you down. 

His lips find your breast, kissing and licking along the tops before wrapping the warmth of his mouth over your tight and taut nipples. 

Your body bows, fingernails scratching down the back of his wrinkled shirt as he sucks. 

A purr rumbles from within his chest, savoring the way your bodies have started to move as one together now. 

His hips pull away, yours rise to meet and follow them. 

It’s gentle, yet raw and desperate in the way that only your bodies remember. Like this dance was something carved deep in your soul and you didn’t need to relearn it all over again. 

His hands roam over you, squishing and holding onto every curve he can find, pulling you closer and closer as if he wants to merge your very skin into his own. 

He grips your hips again, finding the place his hand was always meant to belong and you can feel the bruises already starting to form from the strength in which he holds you. 

His other hand finds your own, pulling your arm away until your fingers intertwine. Palm against palm, his wedding band digs into your finger and you feel your body start to burn all over.

The knot in your stomach forms again, holding tight as his pace quickens. Pleasure runs through you, a shock that runs from your spine to your toes. 

“Hiromi I’m-“ You whimper out, eyes shutting as you throw your head back. 

“Mnn, I know, my love, I know.” He hums back, hiding his face deeper into your skin.

His pace quickens, hips rolling into yours as he angles himself deeper, filling you up even more. 

He mutters something into your breasts, drool spilling past his lips as he kisses and mouths along the soft mounds.

You’re too far gone to understand anything, to hear anything but the soft plaps of where you two meet, to feel anything but the way his pelvis rolls into your clit. But if you listened closely, if you focused on the way his lips moved and ran across your skin, you would know he said the words “i love you” over and over as if trying to carve them into your heart. 

His thighs pull yours higher, his movements becoming increasingly desperate as your walls tighten and clench all around him. 

“Come for me, come for me.” He begs, uttering your name over and over like some kind of prayer that will save him. 

It comes without warning, like a simple tug on a string as you fall apart in his arms. 

It makes your legs shake, back arching as you come and lay beneath the waves of pleasure that start to wash over you. It consumes you whole, holding you prisoner and not letting you break free as he continues to chase his own high. 

He says your name, breaking at the syllables in a small pitch before he fills you up with one final thrust. 

Thick, warm, cum fills you from the inside. His cock twitching restlessly as he shoots rope after rope into you, the mess spilling out of you and gushing all around him. It coats your thighs, dripping down your ass and undoubtedly ruining the poor couch cushions. 

Your chests are heavy, the sound of you both gasping for air fills your ears and you continue to cling onto him for dear life. 

There’s a pause in the air, as if time has suddenly stopped to wait for you two to catch up. 

Your hand holds onto his shoulders. His own holds your hips in the way he used to, grounding. 

And suddenly you two have seemed to have forgotten the situation that brought you here. 

Your bodies are flushed, sticky with sweat and lingering desire as Hiromi collapses onto you. His weight practically suffocating as he lays his chest back against your breasts. 

Silence surrounds you two as the intoxicating feeling of need dies out, the heat you two created slowly turning back into the cold you’ve felt for weeks. 

There are left over tears in your eyes you didn’t even know were there until you try to blink them away, suddenly confused as to why you’ve started crying. 

Your lips move to say something, to utter some word of regret or apology or reason. But he beats you to it. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. 

“I should’ve been here. For you, for us.” His voice is solemn, regret cracking along the lines of every word.  

“I won’t fight. I’ll do whatever it is you want me to. Just please,” His head moves to gaze up at you. 

Those tired eyes shine with tears once more, need and hurt and love filling them so full that it robs you of breath all over again. 

“Don’t take my heart with you.” 

Thank you for reading </3 Comments and reblogs are v much appreciated! If you have any insights please leave them kindly

a/n: Mnnfggh, needy… whiny men…

Babe. Hearing that word roll of his mouth, smooth like honey, was the sheer equivalent of him rubbing salt on your open wound; knowing damn well that you weren't the only one he was seeing. You didn't know how long he hid this from you, and you were honestly afraid to know the answer. But deep down, you knew you needed to know. You reached your arm towards the remote, turning it off. It was silent now. You returned your attention towards the male with a cold gaze.

"We need to talk," you said firmly, yet your voice was slow as you tried to maintain the stability within your emotions that were moments away from bursting out of your chest. The male rubbed the back of his neck, a dry chuckle leaving his lips; his sharp brown eyes averting from your intense glare.

"Can't we wait? I can't be late for the party. The guys are already waiting for me—"

"The guys, you say?" You interrupted Naoya, laughing bitterly as the beads of tears you had desperately tried so hard to control trailed down your cheeks. “Or, is it Airi?”

Oh, how you wished you could take a picture of Naoya’s face the exact moment his mistress’ name left your lips. 

"What…?" Naoya’s voice had gone quiet, his eyes wide in both shock and horror. "W-What are you talking about? Airi?"

Even when caught, rather than admitting it – he still chose to act innocent. You shook your head in dismay, already feeling your composure crumble. 

"There's no use playing stupid, Naoya. It only makes me feel even more embarrassed for you." You said solemnly, your eyes clouded with tears. You could barely make out the facial expressions he was making, but just hearing his desperate excuses just added more to the ache that was growing within your chest.

"We'll make this short and quick," you continued. "After all, your Airi is getting impatient waiting for you in the lingerie you bought her."

Naoya gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowed down at you. "You looked at my phone while I was showering."

"Isn't that obvious?" you bit back, wiping your tears. "How long were you and this woman seeing each other?"

You wanted to smack him until his cheeks turned red, but you held yourself back. "Answer me, Naoya."

His facade crumbled and if you thought you didn't recognize him enough, he effortlessly continued to prove you wrong. He looked down at you coldly, sneering at you. It stung, you had never seen him make such an expression.

"And how is this any of your business, hm?" He said, leaning down towards you with a cold glint in his gaze. "In any case, this should be your fault. You can't even satisfy me in bed! Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone out to seek out for another woman—"

Smack!

The loud sound of your palm making contact with his cheek resonated across the silent living room, the satisfying sting egging you on to slap him a second time. "You make me nauseous. You're surprisingly very audacious for someone who got caught red-handed, cheating.”

You pointed a finger at his chest, prodding harshly against his sternum. You didn't give him a moment to come down from the shock of you slapping the shit out of him. "Fucking answer me, Naoya. How long have you been seeing this woman?"

He mumbled his words, at first. They were barely coherent and you struck him a nasty glare. “What’s that again?”

"Two and a half years," the male grumbled out, holding onto his stinging cheek before mumbling softly. "Agh, fuck that hurts."

You could hear your heart shatter into a million pieces; you could no longer control the onslaught of tears that escaped your eyes.

"Even while we had talks about our future and discussed marriage?" You laughed bitterly through tears. You shook your head, crossing your arms together. You couldn't believe you wasted your time on this man. But then again, good fucking riddance; though the ache in your heart felt otherwise.

"That's all I wanted to know," you said, before turning your back to him.

"You... You're not even going to ask me why I did this?"

"No, there's no need to." You replied quietly. "I loved you and respected all your wishes even when you were too 'busy' to spend time with me. Regardless of whatever fucked up reason you had to cheat on me, I know well enough that it's not my fault."

Naoya stayed silent, but you could tell he was feeling frustrated.

"You're most likely going to keep fucking your coworker behind my back even after we get engaged or even married. So why not just end everything now?" You further added through your persistent tears and sniffles. "So, from now on, go ahead and do whatever you want. We’re done.”

There was a tinge of guilt present in his eyes, but you weren’t going to let it faze you.

You averted your gaze from his, and you can feel your lips beginning to tremble once again. He attempted to reach his arm up to you, but he paused and retracted when his phone resting atop the coffee table began to ring, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You both looked over to the phone, and a familiar name popped up on the screen. It was Airi. You pressed your lips together, blinking rapidly. 

You already knew who he was going to end up choosing. It was a no-brainer. 

You sighed and turned away, “Just go. You can get all your stuff and leave tomorrow morning.”

Making a beeline to your bedroom door and slamming it shut, you plopped down on the soft mattress and all emotions that you tried so desperately to contain had resurfaced; stuffing your face into a pillow, you wailed and wailed — succumbing to heartbreak.

Bitterness swelled in your chest when you heard your ex’s faint voice in the living room as he answered the call. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m heading straight over to you now.”

The door closed, and then came in the silence — however, not without the solemn echoes of your heartbreak. In the end, he didn’t choose you. After what felt like an eternity, your tears had finally dried up, but you stayed in the bed that was once shared between yourself and your now ex-lover. You needed to get your mind off things.

So there you were, clad in an oversized shirt as you walked down the empty streets of your neighborhood, strolling over to the nearest convenience store with your cold hands stuffed in the pockets of your sweatpants. Initially, you thought that walking outside could’ve helped with getting your mind off of things, however, it merely did the opposite; a string of curses leaving your lips in forms of mumbles with each moment that Zen'in crossed your mind.

You didn't realize how quickly fifteen minutes had passed until you stepped into the convenience store, immediately greeted with the cashier's voice laced in both fatigue and boredom. Scanning through the aisles of foods and other necessities, you mentally pondered on what you wanted to get. Bottles of beer, was definitely on the very top of your list. Oddly enough, you didn't have the appetite for anything else.

Purchasing the bottles came by quickly, and you immediately dipped out of the store and headed straight home, your worn out slippers continuously making contact with the concrete with each step you took. Your mind was relentless with attacking you with thoughts of Naoya and Airi, the woman he was seeing behind your back – and all you could think was that you wish you had caught him sooner, rather than trusting him with all your heart could muster and let him do whatever for 'work'. Biting your lips and blinking your eyes rapidly, you had desperately avoided letting out your tears once again; your face was already stained enough with your dried up tears.

As if the universe didn't prove to you enough that they weren't on your side, the skies above began to pour. It didn't even begin with a mere drizzle, not even close. Within seconds, your clothes were drenched and you tried to rush to the nearest shade – however, much to your dismay, there was none and the only solution was to run back home.

Your socks became soaked as well as your shirt, which was uncomfortably stuck to your skin, running through the dark neighborhood with your plastic bag filled with alcohol bottles used as a makeshift umbrella in hopes that it would shield you against the merciless attacks from the sky; yet, it all ended in vain when you tripped over a small crack in the concrete, your body immediately making contact with the cold and wet ground.

Fuck me backwards, that was the sole sentence that went through your mind as you fought back the frustrated tears that threatened to leave your eyes. You stayed on the ground, feeling defeated.

Then, there was a shadow casting above you and the rain stopped. You peered up through your weepy eyes, only for your attention to snap towards a familiar scar on the edge of a man's lips.

"You okay there, doll?" A sudden timbre echoed in your ears, and it was almost as if the rain had actually stopped.

"Does it look like I'm okay, Toji?" You said through trembling lips, feeling the waves of embarrassment washing over you as you stared back up at the tall male holding an umbrella over your head. “W-When did you get here?”

"Well, no. C'mere lemme help you up." Effortlessly, Toji hoisted you up back on your feet with a singular arm, and then his eyes traveled over to your hands. “I was driving by and saw you on the ground.”

"Are you having a house party with those drinks?" He questioned you, gesturing towards the dampened plastic bag filled with the bottles of alcohol.

"They're all for me." You replied in a joking tone, albeit it was the unadulterated truth. The raven-haired male caught on immediately, raising an eyebrow at your response.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked you, his voice resonant as he looked at you with a curious gaze before his eyes widened in surprise. "O-Oh – are you crying?"

"No," you replied to the older man, though there was a waterfall of tears dripping down your cheeks. You spoke through persistent sniffles and shaky breaths, and at this point you weren't even sure if you were coherent for the older cousin to hear but you could honestly care less. "I c-caught Naoya... sniff... c-cheating on me… T-That little shit!"

"That dumbass..." Toji mumbled under his breath. "Let's bring you back home first. You’re drenched all over.”

He hurried you over to his car, and the musky scent of his car air freshener immediately struck your nostrils the moment you stepped into the passenger seat. There was something oddly comforting about it, though. Suddenly, he handed you a spare sweater sitting in the backseat, “Yer shirt’s drenched. Wear this to keep yourself warm.”

You had been so caught up in your emotions that you failed to realize the vibrant colour of your bra peeking through the drenched fabric. Bashful, you grabbed his sweater and thanked him profusely. He waved it off, a small chuckle leaving his lips. Slumping against the seat, you tried to ignore the musky scent of his cologne present in the thick fabric of his black sweater and you wanted to smack yourself profusely for letting your mind wander off too far, however you couldn't help but notice how large he actually is.

It wasn't often that you'd see Naoya's older cousin, as he would show up to family functions once in a blue moon. Though, at first you had found him intimidating as hell, you later found out you weren't all that wrong – making small talk with the older male here and there, much to your ex's dismay.

"Actually, Toji... I don't want to go home, yet." You admitted shortly after he handed you his sweater. "I don't want to come home and be paraded with reminders of that man."

Toji paused briefly before speaking, "So, you're saying that you want to stay over at my place tonight, doll?"

You could feel the blood rush to your face; a warm incarnadine imbued on the apples of your cheeks. You were surprised you hadn't paid much mind to it earlier, but there was something surprising arousing about his resonant voice; something about it tickled your brain the right way. You tried to stop yourself from letting your thoughts wander too far, after all, you had just gotten out of a relationship with his cousin.

"I didn't mean it in that way! J-Just drop me off home, then!"

"Whatever you wish, doll." Toji grinned teasingly before starting the engine, driving up the neighborhood through the heavy rain. “Anyway, I don’t mean to be noisy but how did ya catch that idiot red-handed?”

“He left his phone unlocked on the coffee table while he was showering,” you sighed heavily, staring outside the window with a somber gaze. “I later found out after reading his messages with his coworker that they’ve been seeing each other for two years. Two years and a half, actually..”

“Good fuckin’ riddance on yer part. I’m surprised that this man could last three years in a relationship, of course he had to fuck up and pull that shit on ya.”

You stared outside the window, feeling the heartache steadily returning the closer the car got to your apartment. Eventually, the car came to a stop, parked across your humble abode.

"Thank you for the ride, Toji. And thanks for the sweater. I'll make sure to return it to you once I get it washed." You said softly, looking at the older man with gratitude. He nodded his head in response, "Anytime, doll. Hope ya feel better soon."

Rolling his windows back up and preparing to leave, you stopped him before thinking. He paused and looked back at you, rolling his windows back down; meeting your flustered gaze. "Forgot anything in the car?"

"Um," you said awkwardly, feeling the heat returning to your face. "Do you wanna drink with me at my place?"

The older man blinked for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, "I didn't know ya were this type of person after a breakup, doll."

"Tojiiii," you whined, embarrassed. "I just don't want to drink alone and drown in my own sorrows. I need someone to talk shit about your cousin with too, you perv."

"Hey, that's yer fault for wording it weirdly." Toji shrugged before turning off the engine and leaving his car. "Though, I can't say no since you asked me so nicely."

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," you said, your voice soft as you walked out of the washroom door, dampened towel in hand as you made your way to the living room, plopping down on the couch next to the older Zen’in, though you made sure you maintained a distance. “It didn't take too long, did I?”

You glanced over at the male endowed with borderline Herculean features, and his eyes quickly met yours. Undoubtedly, you felt shy. You invited him over on a whim, last minute decision.

"Mhm, ya were really quick." Toji replied, smirking at your flustered expression. "There's also no need to be so shy with me, doll. Just think of this as one of our many small talks, but with drinks this time."

You nodded your head shyly before you dug your hands into the plastic bag, bringing out two bottles of beer. Thank goodness they stayed intact after your ignominious fall.

"Give me the bottles," said Toji, "I'll open 'em up for ya."

He made a come hither motion with his large hand, signaling you to give him the beer. Without thinking, your eyes stayed glued on his rough, calloused hands – you shook your head, embarrassed. Complying to his words, you handed him the bottles and he brought each bottle out, one by one, and opened them with ease; each movement was effortless, and a mere reminder of his strength.

He handed you the beer, and you thanked him with a soft grin.

"Cheers," you both said before drinking from the glass bottle, and a sharp sigh immediately left your lips. You looked over to Toji, who drank that beer as if it was water.  You found yourself getting dazed, almost amazed at how effortless this man made drinking alcohol appear. 

"About that idiot, Naoya," Toji began, swirling his bottle slightly, "Am surprised that guy managed to stay in a relationship with ya for so long. That man's never been the type to settle down."

You sighed heavily before letting out a bitter chuckle, "I'm surprised too, and I had to find out the hard way. Plus, he's actually out right now fucking his mistress as we speak. Funny, right?"

You let out a small grumble, taking a large gulp of the beer; ignoring the stinging sensation hitting your throat when you swallowed. Toji leaned back against the sofa, his dark blue eyes staring down at you as he continued drinking the alcoholic beverage.

"How are ya holding up right now, doll? I know damn well that breakups are never easy, especially with that guy."

You shuffled in your seat, you could already feel yourself getting worked up at the mention of your ex.

"To be honest," you spoke slowly, "I'm not as torn as I thought I would. I think I already cried all of those sorrows away, but I'm still heartbroken and bitter. Really bitter."

"Bitter? Do tell me more."

You took another large gulp, letting out another sharp sigh. By then, you were already drinking your second glass – feeling the heat steadily increase in your face. You slammed down the bottle onto the coffee table, an irritated expression plastered across your face.

"This man… hic… had the nerve to say that it's my fault because I didn't satisfy him enough in bed! Says him! He only ever chases after his own orgasm whenever we did it and barely… hic… lets me finish? What the hell!"

Tears were now rolling down your face, surprising the older man. One second you were showing anger and fury, and the next second you were slumped down on the couch as you drowned in your sorrows and heartbreak.

"I-I'm... I was never close to being his priority. I also… hic… found out that he's been spoiling and treating his mistress far more better than I was ever treated in the past two years…hic! How can I be so stupidddd."

"Hey now," you could feel a warm hand patting your back with an unforeseen gentleness, "it's better now that you found out rather than later. You deserve so much better, so don't beat yourself up too much."

The older man's words brought you comfort that you didn't know you needed. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, downing on your second bottle of beer. You didn't realize through your drunken haze that he stiffened up at the sudden contact, but he didn't budge. You reached out for a third bottle, but he stopped you.

"Take it easy there, doll." Toji said. "Yer gonna have a hell of a hangover if you keep that up."

"Don't worry, I am," you said in a sing-song tone, though you still grabbed a hold of the beer bottle. "I'll make sure to drink slowly."

He massaged his forehead before chuckling, "Well you’re quite stubborn.”

You giggled softly through stifled breaths, “I-I can be sometimes… hic. Wanna help open this for me?”

He complied to your request, and opened the beer bottle once more with ease.

"I know it corny an' weird coming from an older guy like me, but believe me when I say that the end of a relationship does not equate to yer worth or that the world is going the end. So, don't beat yerself too hard, better things are about to come." He then paused before sighing. "Ugh fuck me, this is how ya know the alcohol's hitting."

"You don't need to pretend that it's the alcohol, Toji." You said, laughing. "You look more than sober. It even looks like you handle beer like how you drink a bottle of water."

"Anyway," you continued, glancing up at the man bashfully while you drank from the bottle; your throat had already grown accustomed to the stinging sensation of the alcohol, and you could feel your cheeks growing warmer the longer you allowed your mouth to ramble. "I didn't know you were capable of saying such sweet things, Mr. Toji."

He paused for a moment before sighing. 

"It's nothing," replied the man as he swigged the bottle. He wiped his mouth with his arm, exhaling sharply.

"You must've… hic!… had many experiences… hic!… with romances, Toji." You said, taking a sip from the bottle despite the persistent hiccups that escaped your lips.

"What makes you say that?" Toji responded, raising an eyebrow.

"You look like the type to," you replied and Toji laughed. “I realized just now… hic!… that you’re… hic!… good company to have around.”

"Ya think so highly of me, doll."

You looked confused now, tilting your head to the side – looking at the sinewy man deep in thought (as far your alcohol would allow). 

"Are you married? Seeing anyone, at all?"

"Divorced seven years ago, and nope."

"Ah..."

You both drank in unison, however your eyes stayed glued onto the older Zen’in. You felt yourself growing more sweaty despite having just gone out from the shower, your cheeks warm and your brain slowly yet surely getting even more fuzzy. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed, but the number of empty bottles resting atop the coffee table was enough for you to know that it had definitely been a few hours. Your eyes thoughtlessly wandered to his lips wrapped around the bottle; watching as his Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp he took, a small bead of sweat rolling down his neck. 

Without even realizing, rather than your beer, you swallowed your saliva. 

“I’m gonna get us some water!” You suddenly stood up from the couch, the sounds of your feet pattering against the hardwood planks echoing throughout the flat and Toji’s eyes followed suit. 

“Do you need help with anything?” You can hear his voice from behind you, though he stayed seated, comfortably, on the couch. You shook your head in response, playfully pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you move an inch, big guy. Your host will take care of everything… hic…!”

Turning around, you resumed to the kitchen with slight staggered movements. Reaching your hand out, you opened the fridge, letting the cool air hit your face that was engulfed with warmth. You sighed softly, feeling even more relaxed as you scanned the refrigerator. Grabbing the water pitcher, you set it aside on the counter and your gaze shifted to the tall cabinet. Unbeknownst to you, Toji’s eyes were glued to you – though, it was mostly to ensure your safety, but he couldn’t help but notice how your shirt rode up when you attempted to reach the cups; your face flushed and your eyes narrowed in concentration. Silently, he took another sip of his beer. He wanted to slap himself. 

“Ya look like you’re struggling, doll.” Toji called out, and you replied with a firm no. You shook your head, though you were really struggling – especially with your lack of balance. With one hand cupping the side of your head, your other arm reaching out to the glass cups resting atop the shelves while you were on your tippy toes, you attempted to reach even further but your feet lost its strength. Just as you were about to brace yourself for impact, a large and warm hand caught you; his arm snaked around your waist and your chest pressed against his well-built chest, and your lips inches away from his. 

You stared up at the man, surprised before blood rushed to the apples of your cheeks; further intensifying the warmth on your skin. 

“Shouldn’t have let ya do all the work when yer balance is already shit,” Toji commented, and you could only watch, flustered, as he extended his other arm to the two cups with effortless movements. You were unsure if it was the alcohol or the flustered emotions rushing through your veins, however you could feel your heart battering against your chest crazily and your cheeks growing warmer. You were also unsure if he had noticed his hand, large and calloused, was underneath the soft fabric of your shirt; his warmth radiating onto your bare skin. As much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t against it one bit.

 “You alright there, doll?” The timbre in his voice brought you back to reality, and you felt your cheeks growing warmer. 

‘Fuck, get it together! You can’t be getting these thoughts freshly out of a breakup!’ You attempted to reason with yourself, but when you glanced over to Toji’s concerned gaze, you honestly believed you were going to melt. This wasn’t your first time talking to the older Zen’in, having spoken to him many times in family functions or simply after crossing paths, though they were no longer than small talk. This felt somewhat different, however it wasn’t in the way you disliked. 

“I-I’m… hic… okay now,” you said shyly, averting your gaze from his. Toji pulled his hand away from your waist, extending his hand towards the water pitcher and filling up the two glasses. He handed you the glass, and you accepted the gesture. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he stared down at you as he drank from the cool water. You fidgeted underneath his gaze, your cheeks growing even more warmer. 

“Are ya feelin’ better now?” Toji questioned you, raising an eyebrow. You nodded your head slowly as you sipped from your glass, “I feel a lot better now, actually.”

“You’re lookin’ like you’re about to burn up.” He then commented before pressing the back of his hand against your forehead in an unforeseen gentleness. “Just as I thought.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to speak, he beat you to it. “Let’s call it quits for tonight, doll. You should get some rest now..” 

Unexpectedly, he ruffled your hair gently; his thick fingers brushing through your locks as you could only stare up at the man dumbfoundedly. You were just beginning to enjoy his company even more. As embarrassing as it would be to admit (when you’re sober), but it wouldn’t hurt to talk for even longer – even if it wasn’t about Naoya, anything would suffice. 

 “What about you?” You asked him, tilting your head. “Why can’t you spend the night here… hic!… and sober up?”

“No can do, doll.” Toji said, his timbre rubbing your brain in the most satisfying way possible. “Anything can happen since there’s alcohol in our system.”

You could feel your heart hammering against your chest, looking up at the older man who looked like he had just drank water rather than downing two bottles of beer. Absent-mindedly, you grabbed onto the hem of his shirt and he appeared to be taken aback. 

 “B-But… you still shouldn’t drive around… hic!... drunk.” You persisted, but Toji shook his head with a light chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing but a little splash of cold water can fix.” He said before turning over to you, tapping on your forehead. “But you. You’re a bit too far gone.”

Your fingers immediately went to your forehead, covering the one area that the Toji had touched, your cheeks flushed a bright incarnadine. “Still,” you grumbled softly, glaring at the male, “you gotta wash your… hic!... face with cold water before you leave, no matter how sober you may appear.”

“Alright, alright.” Toji cackled, shrugging his shoulders. “You can even watch me, if it makes you feel any better.”

In came the following morning, and you were met with the sight of a familiar blond male with his suitcases in tow. You had just woken up from the couch to see your ex-boyfriend at least fulfilling his one promise, which was to leave your apartment with all his things. You rubbed your eyes, disgruntled at the persistent ache in your head. You didn’t have a moment to hark back to the previous night when all you could feel is your ex-boyfriend’s sharp gaze cutting through you.

 Naoya’s sharp eyes scanned your surroundings, “Were you drinking last night?” 

“Why are you asking me questions you know the answer to,” you grumbled out, stuffing your head into the comfort of your pillow. Naoya scoffed at your response, crossing his arms. “Well, you couldn’t have finished all those bottles yourself. Who were you drinking with? And whose sweater was in your room? It looks like a man’s.”

“All of that is none of your business,” you snapped, your voice still muffled by your pillow. “Are you going to leave now, or what?”

“Tsk,” the blond male clicked his tongue at your sharp response, “are you now sleeping with another man out of spite? You’re no better than I am.”

This fucking man —

Now you felt awake, and you shot up from the pillow — sending your ex a glare that would definitely kill if it could. “I’ll give you another slap on the cheek, ten times harder than yesterday since you’re begging so nicely for it.”

Naoya’s gaze narrowed, his lips forming into a sneer. However, he didn’t say anything. He knew damn well that he wouldn’t want to experience that slap again, or a harder one. 

“And,” you continued, feeling yourself getting more heated the more you spoke, “you absolutely have zero room to talk about spite or being a better person. Remind me where you went off to last night, hm? While I was drowning myself in beer, what were you doing? Oh, that’s right! You were busy fucking your coworker and spent the night with her!”

The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. Just hearing him open his mouth was enough to give you a reason as to why you shouldn’t mourn so much over the loss of this relationship, despite having committed so much of your time and energy into it. Frustrated and beyond annoyed, you massaged your aching forehead with your fingertips. 

“You clearly don’t feel sorry for anything that you did.” You spoke, your voice stern as a feeble attempt to mask your crumbling composure. “Even mustering an apology would suffice, yet you come in and have the audacity to accuse me of sleeping around?”

You paused for a moment, your gaze locked onto the Zen'in. Furrowing your brows, you sighed deeply and frowned. “What’s even worse is that you don’t look sorry.”

As much scorn you harbored for the male who cheated on you, there was undeniably a tinge of sorrow and ache that lingered within the depths of your chest upon making that crestfallen realization. 

Pointing at the door, you didn’t leave your couch but you glared at your ex-boyfriend. “If there’s nothing else you want to say, you can go ahead and leave.”

And just like that, he wordlessly complied — walking out of the place he once called his home after three years, a place where he once promised he’d make many sweet memories with you; all that he left behind now was a poignant silence and another headache, other than that bothersome hangover, that you now had to deal with. Staring blankly at the door where your ex had exited from, you heaved an exasperated sigh. 

In the end, Zen’in Naoya still couldn’t even muster a proper apology – not that you were going to forgive him, anyway. However, three years down the drain was still plenty to take in. But then again, breakups that end on bad terms were usually much easier to move on from, especially that cheater ––

Ping!

A brief noise coming from your cell phone brought you back to reality – cutting you off from your lamentable dwellings, and you snapped your gaze almost immediately to the source of the sound; your hand grasping onto the device, your eyes scanning the screen as you silently read the message. 

TOJI: Recovered from the hangover yet?

You absentmindedly smiled towards your phone; your thumbs already working on a response. 

YOU: barely ahaha YOU: what are you up to now? TOJI is typing… TOJI: Nothing much TOJI: Did Naoya come by and get his things already? YOU: yeah,, he actually woke me up to ask about the sweater and who i was drinking with before he left YOU: i didn’t mention u though, but he was being a total headache about it TOJI: Why not? It would’ve been funny if you did YOU: you wouldn’t want naoya to hop on ur ass about it if i mentioned TOJI is typing… TOJI: He wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me anyway. That guy’s afraid of me YOU: you’re hilarious TOJI: I''m serious. Anyway TOJI: Thoughts on getting yakiniku tonight?

You didn’t realize it sooner, but over the course of days –– weeks, you eventually found yourself growing accustomed to the older male’s company; whether that be in the form of texting, or simply going out for drinks or barbeque –– Zen’in Toji was, without a doubt, clouding your mind. At this point, the thought of the misery your ex had brought upon you had dissipated. However, you wouldn’t deny that there was a wall that was evidently separating yourself from the Zen’in, a boundary that he, himself, had implemented. Oftentimes, it brought you back to an older conversation that you had with Toji; him telling you that he hadn’t truly been seeing anyone since his divorce, which was seven years ago. Even sometimes, you had gotten struck with the random spurts of realization that he was a decade or so older than you; his little nickname for you, every so often, served as a reminder. However, there were moments where you felt like you wanted to cross that line, and whenever you looked at Toji; his lips slightly agape, swallowing his spit as he stared down at you with that gaze –– you were certain that he was thinking of the same thing. This unspoken, yet increasing tension could be cut clean with a knife.

“Here. Get some meat and vegetables.” said Toji. With his chopsticks, he placed the freshly grilled meat and vegetables onto your plate. “What’s on yer mind, doll? Noticed you’ve been dazin’ off for quite some time.”

You shook your head immediately before thanking the older man profusely. “My goodness. I didn’t even realize they were moments away from burning. Thank you!”

Promptly, you threw the borderline broiling piece of meat into your mouth, chewing with tears slowly forming inside your eyes. “Wow, it’s s-so good. I love it.”

“Somethin’s on your mind after all,” Toji remarked, tilting his head off to the side while his midnight blue eyes gazed into yours. You gulped, swallowing the meat silently as you grabbed the glass of water and chugged it. 

“I promise you, it’s nothing really important. It’s just work.” You responded, smiling cheekily as you reached for the grilled broccoli with your chopsticks. You didn’t think you’d have it within yourself to tell him that he was all that you were thinking about – you’d simply drown in embarrassment before you could even utter a word! While you were chewing, you swiftly reached for the meat on the grill and placed it onto Toji’s plate.

 “It’s bigger meat,” you mentioned, “therefore, it’s all yours.”

“Oh? Look at ya bein’ all generous, doll.” he immediately teased you, raising his brows as his lips curled into an amused grin. “Ya weren’t like this the first time we went out for yakiniku.”

“Since when were you so observant?” You grumbled out, fighting the urge to roll your eyes jokingly. 

“I’ve always been observant,” Toji said while he chewed on the meat, swallowing with a satisfied hum. “But yer facial expressions make it so much easier for me. You’re not that great at trying to hide yer thoughts, either.”

You paused, staring at the man with a flabbergasted expression plastered all across your face. “Ya just proved my point,” laughed Toji. 

You closed your lips and pouted, taking another bite of the grilled meat – basking in the smoky flavor as you attempted to fight off the skittish emotions that were about to resurface. Though, you were unable to control the blood that rushed to the apples of your cheeks; heating up your face. “Clearly, what I did just now was on purpose.”

“Besides, what do you think goes on in my mind?” You questioned him, but as soon as those words slipped past your lips – you immediately wished you hadn’t. He sent you a teasing smirk, his eyes staring straight into yours as he uttered those words:

“I don’ think it’s the right time and place for me to say it here, doll. Ya might get a lil’ embarrassed if I lay them out for ya right now.”

Instantly, you could feel your face growing even warmer and you averted your gaze from his. “You’re bein’ mean right now, Toji.”

Then returned the insufferable tension. You fought the urge to squeeze your legs together, worried that the older man might catch on and you reached for another piece of meat and vegetable, chewing onto those two in tandem. Toji stared at you, amused; his head leaning against his hand as he played with the other pieces of food on the grill with the other.

“You’re awfully easy to get a reaction out of,” Toji further commented, chuckling. “It’s cute.”

“At this point, you’re just doing this on purpose!” You complained, blushing heavily at his teasing and he merely shrugged as a response. 

Time passed by quickly, and you were spent; leaning against your chair with your hand resting atop your aching belly –– staring weakly at the older Zen’in who appeared to be in no way affected as he downed the remaining food on the grill. When he met your gaze, he bursted out laughing; cackling, even, at your state.

 “C’mon doll, I think you can handle a lil’ more meat inside ya.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious, or if you’re making an innuendo.” You murmured, your voice course. “But I’m not taking another bite. I’m sooo full.”

“Ya pervert, I am bein’ serious.” Toji retorted, taking the last bite of meat before he gulped down his glass of water. 

While he briefly left the table to pay for the bill, you stayed seated on the chair, staring blankly at the clutter left behind on the wooden table.

 The more you thought about it –– about him, you were left with a feeling of anticipation that you knew wouldn’t be fulfilled. You bit your lips softly, trying to fight back that massive frown that was threatening to appear; you were certain that Zen’in Toji, your ex’s older cousin and nearly more than decade older than you were, saw you no more than just an eating or drinking buddy, or a young woman who was left heartbroken by his cousin. 

“Now, what’s with that long sigh?” A familiar timbre brought you back to reality, your eyes snapping over to his. 

“It’s ‘cause of my stomach,” you replied, laughing it off before you stood up from your chair. You glanced outside and down at your watch, “How long were we out for?”

“Hours,” Toji simply responded and you rolled your eyes. 

You both stepped out of the store, ready to leave until you felt the sensation of small beads of water falling onto your face –– mere seconds later, it began to pour heavy rain. Groaning in pure unadulterated dismay, you both rushed to his car which was across the street; using your arms as means to shield you from the pouring water. 

“I didn’t expect it to rain today, especially like this.” You observed, brushing your fingers through your dampened locks. Toji sighed in response, “To be honest, doll, I dun’ think I could drive you straight home in this weather. I jus’ checked my phone and it said that there’s a bad thunderstorm that’ll last all night  and there’s also a chance of a small flood happening.”

“Ah, that’s alright.” You said. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“There’s an inn nearby and we can spend the night there, if that’s fine with ya.” Replied the Zen’in.

Your face flushed at his suggestion, and Toji immediately took note of it. 

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll sleep on the floor or couch – if there’s one.” Toji reassured you, and you could only nod your head — completely and utterly dumbfounded with the series of lewd thoughts that began to cloud your mind. You and him. Together. Alone. You wanted to smack yourself. Genuinely.

You shuffled in your seat, feeling the heat in your face and between your legs worsen. You tried to distract yourself, silently immersing yourself with the music that was playing on the radio. Then the car came to a halt, and you stared outside the window. It was an average looking inn, nothing too special. Upon finding parking, you both hurried over to the entrance; rushing over to the receptionist.

“Room 261 is on the second floor, to your left. Please enjoy the rest of the night, you two.” 

The moment you found the designated room number and opened the door, you both stood there flabbergasted. The room was decorated in hearts and flowers — even the bed was large and heart-shaped, and on the nightstand, there rested a fuzzy pair of handcuffs, condoms, and bottles of lube. Instinctively, you touched your cheeks with the backside of your hand. Yep, your face is definitely hot. 

Toji covered his face with the palm of his hand, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Shit. I’m sorry, I should’ve known it was a love hotel.”

“Don’t worry,” you laughed it off, “they were being really discreet about it, so I’m surprised. When you look at the exterior, anyone who never went there would’ve also thought it’s a normal inn — totally not a love hotel.”

The moment you both locked gazes, you bursted out laughing.

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggled, “the fact that we actually got into a love hotel is crazy. Damn.”

“Just our luck,” Toji chuckled. “Oh, fortunately there’s a couch over there. The bed’s all yours, doll.”

Plopping down on the bed, you released a relieved sigh. “It’s so comfortable here, Toji. You should try it out, too.”

He slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, and a look of surprise was plastered across his face. “You’re right.”

The bed was large enough to fit the both of you, you pondered to yourself. Your eyes wandered to Toji’s large and sinewy frame, his back facing you as he fumbled with his car keys — his large, calloused fingers tracing along the metal ridges. Undeniably, his fingers were large — thick and long, even. For a brief moment, it almost made you wonder, in your uncouth curiosity, what it would be like to have his hands wander farther…

No. Stop it right there.

‘You horny, horny woman,’ you scolded yourself, mentally smacking your head as you attempted to hide the blush that was moments away from resurfacing. Briefly, you averted your gaze from the older Zen’in, trying to look anywhere but him — it was hard though, especially when this man was quite the eye candy. There was simply no way he didn’t not go out with other women. 

The insufferable tension lingering in the air was another thing you couldn’t ignore, it had been like this for weeks already; naughty thoughts and reveries involving the male came to you nearly every night and as much you tried to ignore it, you still noticed the way he licked the icing off his lips after taking a bite from a dessert, the veins adorning his large hand as he gripped onto the steering wheel, or how his eyes would flicker between meeting your gaze or your lips. 

This was driving you insane. Terribly insane. 

You could feel the weight of the bed lighten, and you turn your head to see Toji standing up from the edge of the bed, making large strides to the couch. Without ever turning his head to face you, he began to speak; his voice had gotten an octave lower, it caught you off guard.

“There ya go again, doll. Are ya even aware of the expressions you’re makin’?” 

“Huh?” You stared at him, dumbfoundedly. “What expressions?”

“Do I really have to say it?” Toji questioned, turning his head slightly to the side and tilted. Your eyes wandered to his lips, glued onto the small scar as he spoke. “I’ll sound a lil’ bawdy, but…” 

He pointed a finger towards you. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like you’re beggin’ to be fucked,” the man stated, his navy blue eyes meeting your flustered ones.

You tensed at his words, feeling a surge of heat overcoming you – his words paired with the timbre in his voice causing a stir within the depths of your abdomen. The atmosphere had changed, the tension was so unbearably thick; you could sense that his composure was also beginning to fall apart.

 “W-What?” You could barely manage to squeak out the words, but the older Zen’in’s gaze didn’t falter. You were, undeniably, aroused – for god knows how long. 

“I’m a pretty observant person,” Toji said, his deep and baritone voice ringing in your ears. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way ya looked at me earlier, and even the weeks before. Even now, you’re aroused. Am I wrong, doll?”

Your breathing had gotten heavier, hitching even. Was Toji that good at reading you, or were you being plain obvious? You didn’t know, nor did you care too much. Either way, whatever he said – he was correct. You were simply too embarrassed to admit it; you bit onto your lip, unable to come up with a response. 

“You gotta speak with yer words, doll.” 

You swallowed your spit, gulping softly. “I… You…”

The way you wanted to dig yourself a hole and shrivel yourself up into a ball. God, this was so embarrassing. 

“I… You…?” The man repeated after you, amusement plastered across his face. You opened your mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. 

“Ugh,” you groaned out, feeling the steams of pure and unadulterated embarrassment leaving your ears. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

You slapped your hands on your face, covering the roseate warmth that seemed to merely worsen as those words left your lips. Upon setting your pride aside, you had finally admitted the embarrassing truth. But, what would come after that? Would he be weirded out and distance himself from you? You averted your gaze from his, you didn’t have it within you to meet his eyes. As aroused as you were, you were also incredibly embarrassed – and even that was an understatement.

You felt his finger tracing your chin, lifting your face to meet his. You didn’t realize he had already made his way back to you, his Herculean build leaning close to yours yet there was, undeniably, an invisible wall that separated the both of you. 

“I tried to think nothin’ of it at first, but…” Toji began, stalling his words a little. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what you told me earlier,” Toji said, his voice low in a murmur; his gaze yet again flickering between your eyes and your lips. You gulped softly, your breath hitching in anticipation. “About Naoya not pleasin’ ya enough in bed. It seems to me you’re feelin’ all pent up now.”

He shot you a teasing grin, “Am I right about that too, doll?”

Your eyes widened, looking at the man in front of you in shock; your mouth agape and your cheeks flushed. “You…”  You attempted to come up with a retort, but all the words that threatened to leave your lips had come to a halt when he raised a brow towards you, his midnight blue gaze looking down at yours.

“Judging by yer reaction, I’m guessin’ I’m right.” 

“Yeah?” You riposted, biting your cheek. “So what about it? If you’re just saying this to make fun of me, then you can just quit… it.”

Your eyes trailed down, your words slowing down to a halt as you caught sight of the large tent growing at the center of his trousers. It’s big.

“I wouldn’t be sayin’ all this if I only intended to tease ya,” Toji replied, his voice slightly hoarse as he briefly followed your gaze. “But I’m glad it’s confirmed that we see eye to eye.”

“Eye to eye? Does that mean…” Your eyes stayed glued onto his bulge, and Toji turned his head away; a bright roseate blush tinting the tips of his ears. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff. “It’s exactly what ya think it is, Y/N. It’s ya fault for being so fuckin’ cute.”

You stared back to his face, a look of wanton adorning across your face as you eyed his lips. Licking your lips, you gathered all the remaining courage you had –– cupping the older man’s face in your hands and bringing him into a soft and brief kiss, your lips locking for a few seconds before pulling away.

“I-I didn’t think you’d be seeing me in this type of light, either––”  your words were abruptly put to a halt when he locked lips with yours once more, this time with plenty more fervor; his large hand cupping the back of your head to pull you closer, if it was even possible. Tongues, forthwith, were intertwined as you followed the male’s lead; his well-rehearsed movements harbored from the years of experience you forgot he had. His lips were on yours, yet you felt as if your whole entire body was burning up.                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Your fingers traveled to his clothed chest, gripping onto the fabric tightly as you struggled to keep up with his movements. Without ever pulling away, he leaned closer; his weight slowly pushing your body down onto the mattress, a soft sigh leaving your lips the moment your back made contact with the comforts of the mattress. 

The wet sounds of your lips interlocking echoed throughout the room, along with the soft noises of your whimpers and moans escaping your lips as Toji’s hands wandered; leaving every curve of your body untouched, and the tip of his fingers snaking underneath the hem of your jeans. You wrapped your arms around the man’s neck, your fingers dancing through his raven locks. You barely remembered the last time you had a kiss this passionate.

Eventually, you both pulled away; revealing a thin string of saliva connecting both your lips together and anything else that escaped your lips were harbored breaths. You kissed him. And it felt so good. Pressing your fingers to your lips, your eyes traveled over to Toji’s –– it was evident that his self restraint was merely hanging on by a thin thread. You bit your lips at the thought.

“You’re makin’ it so hard for me to hold myself back,” hissed Toji, wincing slightly at the discomfort within his trousers. 

“You don’t need to,” you replied, your voice was quiet yet it was dripping with arousal. “I don’t want you to.”

Toji raised a brow at your words, but he couldn’t deny – those exact words did cause some sort of damage. “Ya sure, doll? I don’ think I’ll be able to stop myself once I start.”

You sat back up from the bed, your hand caressing his cheek; your finger tracing the small scar ingrained in the corner of his swollen lips. 

“Well, I don’t want you to stop either.” You murmured, your voice soft and you shifted your gaze to the tightened area of his trousers. “I can help with that, too.”

Taciturnly, you brought your palm to his lap, giving his enlarged bulge a soft squeeze; immediately eliciting a soft groan from Toji as a response to your sudden and bold movements. 

He muttered your name, though it sounded more of a warning than anything. You squeezed it once more, shooting the male a playful smile; your fingers playing around with the small metallic zipper before you slowly zipped it down. 

“Can I?” You questioned him. It was clear you were ogling his bulge beneath, excited to explore for more; your eyes were wide in lewd curiosity, barely able to control the arousal and desperation within your movements. Toji found all of that, somewhat, endearing. 

“Do whatever ya want, doll.” He huffed out. “But ya also got to give me somethin’ nice to look at and play with.”

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt before they snaked underneath the fabric; the sensations of his rough and calloused fingers touching your bare skin – his blunt nails grazing your waist. You raised your arms up, and with effortless movements, he slipped the fabric off you. For a brief moment, you considered hiding yourself – a wave of shyness suddenly overtaking you, but all that stopped when you felt his fingers, once again, grazing your bare skin; slowly tracing over the cups of your bra. 

Your breath hitched, and a surge of heat rushed to your face. This was it. You were going to have sex with Zen’in Toji. However, undeniably, you felt like a virgin around the older male. His fingers lingered across your back, unclasping the undergarment with ease; he watched, with amused eyes, as it fell from your breasts — revealing your soft mounds. Unawarely, your arms rushed to cover your breasts – but his strong hands held them back.

“Don’t ever think about covering ya self, doll.” Toji said, his . “I love the view I’m seein’ right now, so don’t be shy to show me everything.”

You tried to suppress any noise that threatened to leave your lips, biting onto the skin; your body writhing underneath the man’s soft, yet teasing strokes on your breasts, most particularly your nipples. You leaned closer into his touch, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as his fingers teased the erect buds –– twirling, pinching and pulling; your mind was going blank to his teasing ministrations. 

“You have such pretty breasts,” Toji commented, pinching your nipples with his index and pointer fingers before he began to twirl the bud. You bit onto your lip even harder this time; your legs squeezed tightly together as you attempted to satiate your arousal in silence. 

“T-Toji,” you stammered out, “I’m s’pposed to be the one pleasing you first.”

“I can wait,” he grinned, licking a small stripe of saliva across your breast. “I needa show these girls some love first.”

You couldn’t even utter a response, all that came out were stifled moans and whimpers — your hand clasped against your mouth while your other was nestled in his raven locks. Zen’in Toji was, indeed, showing them love. Lots of love. The insufferable ache building up between your legs seemed to merely worsen, not even squeezing them together was enough to satiate it. You were far too aroused — melting immediately at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensations.

Toji’s eyes never left your face; analyzing every micro reaction your face made, every single move he made felt as though it was rehearsed — a well one, in fact; effortlessly finding the spots that elicited the most delicious reactions out of you with both his tongue and hands. He cupped your breast and gave the mound a squeeze, and he eventually pulled his mouth away from your nipple; leaving behind a thin string of saliva that connected his lips and your skin. If you were standing, your knees would’ve already buckled on the spot. 

Breathing heavily, you softly pushed the older male away from your body. “It’s your turn.”

You slowly lowered yourself, your hands tracing down his shoulders, his chest and then to his abdomen; your nimble fingers unbuttoning, thus unzipping his trousers. You didn’t realize you were holding in your breath, while trying your darndest to control your heart that was hammering rapidly against your chest. 

“Breathe, doll.” Toji’s baritone voice wasn’t much help, but you breathed in — then you heaved a shaky sigh. Gulping, you took in the sight of the sheer size of his shaft hiding beneath the thin fabric. 

By the time your hands reached his boxers, your fingers snaking underneath the hem of his underwear; you pulled the fabric down, slipping it down his muscular thighs — you were unsure if you were being obvious, but you attempted to stop your mouth from watering. 

“It’s big,” you thought aloud, slapping your mouth immediately after. Toji chuckled deeply.

“For a woman who’s mostly shy, ya certainly have no filter.” Toji teased, lightly slapping his hardened cock against your cheek. “How cute. Do ya think you’ll be able to take it in ya mouth, doll?”

You flushed a bright incarnadine at his words, “Were you always this crude?”

Wrapping your hand around his girthy shaft, you gulped softly as you slowly stroked his member; up and down, up and down — your eyes were locked onto his face, taking in every micro-expressions that the older Zen’in was making, though it was evident that he was trying to suppress them; he was biting his lips, though he still had that sexy grin plastered across his face. For the longest time, you weren’t aware that Zen’in Toji had this obnoxiously lewd side of him, and you also didn’t know that you could be so fucking aroused because of it. 

‘Will he fit inside me?’ You asked yourself, nearing your lips closer to his cock. You licked a long stripe across his cock, circling the soft muscle around his tip before sucking on it. Toji immediately reached his strong hand to your locks, giving them a soft tug. 

“Fuck,” he hissed softly, “I almost forgot how good this feels. You’re so fuckin’ good with your mouth, doll.”

Breathing through your nose, you slowly took him inside your mouth; feeling the small beads of tears building up the lower you went down on him, your nose pressed against his pubes. It was difficult to breathe — he was just too fucking big! However, the loud groan of your name leaving his lips was more than enough as motivation to keep going; circling your hand around the area your mouth couldn’t reach, and you stroked his cock in languid movements. 

Each noise — grunts, hitched breaths, or groans — that escaped his lips, you could feel yourself growing even wetter; a puddle of arousal dampening your underwear. You continued to bop your head onto his cock, drool dripping down your cheeks as you attempted to take him deeper. You knew you shouldn’t have pushed yourself too much –– you could barely remember the last time you’d done something this lewd, but you couldn’t help yourself. When there was Zen’in Toji in front of you, feeding your hungry mouth with his fat cock, there was simply no way you’d say no. 

The obscene noises of your mouth showing love towards his cock echoed throughout the room; your soft gagging, whimpers, and the slobberish noise your mouth made each time you bobbed your head lower made it nearly impossible for the older man to not buck his hips into your poor lips. The turbulent rainstorm showering outside had long drowned out — the sole sound of Toji’s little grunts and groans lingered in your head; hungry to please him even more.

“Atta fuckin’ girl,” Toji grunted, his hands traveling to your breasts to give your nipples a tight pinch. You clenched your eyes shut, whimpering softly with his cock deep inside your throat; writhing underneath his touches, every graze of his fingers brought you closer and closer to the brink of insanity. You squeezed your legs together tightly, bucking your hips slightly as you continued to please him. “You’re pleasin’ me so well, doll.”

“Ah—mmph…!” You let out a surprised moan, snapping your eyes open to stare at the raven-haired male as he pulled and twirled the erect bud between his rough fingers. Your grip tightened around his hips, and upon pulling away from his shaft, you gave the tip a good suck –– grinning at yourself when you felt Toji’s body twitch at your manipulation; his breath hitching at the shocks of pleasure rushing through his veins as his fingers’ squeezed onto your mound. A line of praises escaped his lips in the form of grunts and mutters, his hand cupping your cheek; his thumb softly stroking the tears away. 

“Do ya even realize how arousing ya look right now?” Toji’s deep baritone voice rang in your ears as he bucked his hips into your face. He threw his head back, a mix of a hoarse chuckle and grunt leaving his lips. “You’re doin’ so good, doll. Keep on goin’.” 

Continuing on with your ministrations, you used both your hands to stroke his dick while you pressed your lips against his tip; bobbing your head down his tip while your hands made twisting motions as you fondled with his girth. You glanced up towards Toji, awaiting some sort of praise –– and he wasted no time; the thrusts of his hips had begun to stagger and a loud groan of your name escaped his lips, coating the insides of your mouth with thick ribbons of white. Pulling away from his length, your eyes returned its focus to the older Zen’in; locking eyes with his as you swallowed his cum, feeling the warm liquid trickle down your throat. 

Heavy breaths echoed through the room, Toji’s soft pants mirroring yours; his eyes gazed into yours wantonly and his fingers cupping your chin briefly before he leaned back in for a third kiss. Locking lips and tongues intertwined, he lifted the shirt off his body with ease; revealing his chiseled build. Panting in between kisses, your fingers trailed down his neck – traveling down his chest, and back up to his raven locks. 

His hand trailed lower to your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping effortlessly as he pulled the denim past your ass; his thick fingers grazing against your cheeks, slowly snaking underneath the thin fabric of your panties — shivering, you rocked your hips into his hand when he slid a finger across your slick folds. His breath hitched a little, pulling his lips away from yours. 

“I didn’t even put a finger yet, but yer drenchin’ it already.” He commented, and you could only watch — in both embarrassment and unadulterated arousal — as he licked your juices off his fingertip. 

His hands returned to the denim fabric hanging on to your thighs, pulling them down along with the thin fabric of your underwear. Without uttering another word, he brought his hand between your thighs — spreading them open. Midnight blue eyes locked onto your bare cunt, his mouth nearly salivating at the sight of your arousal dripping down your hole. Glancing down, he was, once again, fully erect. 

Extending your arm to his shaft, Toji had stopped you — though, not with words, but with the abrupt movements of his arms hooking around your thighs; pulling your hips closer to his face. 

“W-Wait––A-Ah!” The moment you felt his tongue prodding at your folds, your eyes rolled back and a sharp moan escaped your lips; your fingers immediately finding solace in his messy, black hair. Toji didn’t seem to listen, however. His tongue slid up and down your folds before pressing his lips against your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking harshly whilst flicking his tongue against it.

“Oh my––fuck! Toji!” You mewled out, arching your back and you could feel yourself convulse as he continued to suck and lick messily at your cunt. “T-There’s no way you didn’t sleep with anyone after your divorce,” you stuttered in between moans, “you –– mmph! Hah – y-you have to be lying! You eat pussy too good – AH!”

The older man grunted against your folds, his canines gently grazing your swollen clit. You writhed, your hips twitching in response. 

“What are you on, doll? I never lied to ya. Not one bit.” Toji replied, his voice muffled while he continued to stuff your face into your juicy cunt. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt this typa pleasure.”

With his tongue, he licked another long strip across your drenched folds – humming in delight; the timbre of his voice sending vibrations onto your sensitive clit. You bit onto your lip, staring at Toji in lewd desperation while you bucked your hips against his face. The pleasure you felt was surreal; nothing you had ever felt before. It was addicting. You could feel the pressure pitting in your stomach growing warmer – heavier, more insufferable. 

“I-I’m close,” you warned, digging your nails into his scalp and he let out a soft grunt, eating your pussy with plenty more fervor. 

“Don’ come yet,” Toji said, “hold on for lil’ more longer for me, doll.”

You gulped, nodding at his request. Closing your eyes shut tightly, you tried your darndest to not succumb to the pleasure that was washing over you like strong, persistent waves. Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come! Your toes curled, your eyes opening wide in surprise when you felt his two fingers, without any effort, slide into your drenched pussy –– his fingers stretching you out so deliciously; your walls clamped down onto his thick fingers that were knuckles deep inside your cunt. 

“Don’t come,” Toji warned you, and you could only stare at him with your heavy-lidded gaze –– too fucked out to care. You rocked your hips against his large hand, a string of incoherent moans and praises escaping your lips each time he fucked his fingers into you; his movements were fast and profound, eliciting such wet and lewd noises from your drenched hole. 

“Hm–– T-Toji,” you mewled loudly, throwing your head back against the plush of the pillows; your hands –– one gripping tightly against the wrinkled fabrics of the duvet cover, and the other tangled in the strands of Toji’s mane. “Ahn! P-Please let me come. You’re making me feel so… good..!”

Toes curling, another moan ripped out from your throat, your hips convulsing as he brought his mouth down to your swollen bud –– flicking circles and wrapping his lips around your clit repeatedly, all whilst fucking your pussy with his fingers as if he would with his dick (in your imaginations); curling his fingers, a loud whimper fell from your lips, your hips rocking desperately against his hand as his fingertips would kiss your sweet spot. 

“P-Pl-Please,” you could only murmur out, your whole entire body overwhelmed with pleasure and ecstasy. You could feel your eyes rolling back, your whole entire body writhing as he continued on with his ministrations – his fingers fucking you so well, hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy. His precise, yet profound movements were making your mind melt, along with the rest of your body. You could barely recount a memory where you came due to someone’s manipulation, often having to cater to your own needs to satiate the need for pleasure. However, now that you were experiencing it now; it was as if shocks of electricity were pulsing throughout your body –– your whole body growing sensitive, yet wanting more. 

The mixed sounds of his tongue sloppily making love with your clit paired with the wet noises of his fingers fucking into your hole, along with your mewls and the male’s sexy grunts filled the room. The persistent pressure growing in the pits of your lower abdomen was growing all the more unbearable, a new, foreign feeling began bubbling the more you tried to stop yourself from coming on the spot. It was getting even harder to hold it in now, you swore you could feel yourself burst.

“Fuck, doll.” Toji said, licking his lips at the sight of your pussy clenching tightly around his two fingers curled inside you, watching your juices trickle down your hole. “Look at me when you come, ‘kay? Look at the man that’s gonna make ya come hard.” 

You were completely under his submission, your eyes – though heavy-lidded – locked onto his midnight blue eyes; giving him a pleading look. He stared up at you, his lips locked around your clit and his fingers mercilessly doing their work on you. This sensation was something that you had never felt before – panicked, your fingers grasped onto his locks in a vain attempt to pull him away.

“T-Toji!” You whimpered his name, urgency evident in your voice. “I think I-I’m gonna pee!”

“Let it go,” Toji hummed, both his mouth and fingers continuing to pleasure you – edging you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Come for me, doll.”

And so you did, a loud cry of his name rolling off your tongue as your back arched; toes curled and your hips convulsing against his face –– the warm juices spraying on his face and his hands, drenching his skin. A hitched groan escaped his lips, and he rubbed your clit with the palm of his hand; eliciting more of your juices to coat his hand while you twitched beneath his touches, strained moans leaving your lips as you rode out your orgasm. 

“Hah,” you heaved a breathy sigh, staring blankly at the ceiling for a brief moment before you finally noticed the puddle you left behind after your release, evidenced by the dampened sheets underneath you. Blood rushed to your cheeks, “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothin’ to be embarrassed of, doll.” Toji grinned, the gentle grazes of his fingertips lingering onto your soaked thighs. “If anything, it’s fuckin’ hot. Was it your first time squirtin’ like that?”

You nodded your head, suddenly feeling shy once more. “Mhm. I can’t remember a time when I came this hard — let alone came from someone’s touch.”

“Damn,” Toji said, biting back a haughty grin. “Didn’t expect Naoya to be that much of a disappointment. But then again, it’s not too big of a surprise.”

“I’ll make ya feel much better,” he added, a smirk adorning his face while his arm extended to the nightstand — reaching for the packet of rubber, but you stopped him; your hands cupping his face as you made the man face you. 

“You don’t need to use it,” you said softly, your voice soft as you could feel the blood rushing back to your face. You glanced down at his cock, your mouth nearly salivating as you watched the girth jerked slightly in the air; a small amount of his pre-cum trickling out. You were right, this man was indeed an eye candy — the most delicious one, in fact. “I’m on the pill.”

He stroked his fat cock languidly, his lustful eyes locking onto yours. “You sure about that doll?”

You nodded your head rapidly, it was almost foolish how excited you appeared. However, you were too horny to care. You needed this man inside you, desperately. Hooking your arms underneath your knees, you spread your legs apart for the older man to see — and he was instantly hooked; a hitched breath escaping his lips as he locked his gaze onto your drenched and needy hole — and your face too, looking so fucking lewd; the wanton look in your eyes begging him to fuck. A hoarse grunt escaped his lips, enamored at the heavenly sight. 

“Fuck me, Toji.” Pure arousal was laced in your voice as you uttered those words, your tone almost pleading.

Just how could he ever say no to that?

A sharp gasp left your lips when he pulled your legs closer to his hips, his large palms pushing your thighs back as he aligned his cock with your needy heat. You glanced down, lips quivering in anticipation as you watched him further prep you for his girth. He rubbed his thumb across your folds briefly, a low chuckle escaping his throat. “You’re still soakin’ wet, doll. I doubt we’d even need lube at this point.”

He inserted a finger briefly before pulling away, laughing at how your body immediately twitched at his touch. 

“You gotta relax for me, ‘kay?” Toji adjured, pressing the tip of his cock against your soaking entrance before slowly entering. Your arms immediately reached out, your hands finding solace around his chiseled back; your nails slightly digging into his skin, your body reeling at the stretch. He was too fucking big, and he only inserted the tip! The feeling of being filled up to the brim was incomparable to your fingers — you were going to melt. 

“Relax, doll.” repeated Toji, his voice strained. “You’re suckin’ me in.”

He nestled his face into your neck, peppering kisses and little suckles; thrusting his hips deeper and deeper. Small beads of sweat trickled down his neck as he reached halfway deep inside you, relishing in the way your walls clamped down onto his girth so tightly.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, closing his eyes shut as he reached the hilt – the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix. A shaky whimper left your lips, your arms wrapping tightly around the older Zen’in’s neck.

“You good?” He asked you, his face hovering yours. You nodded, pressing a small kiss on the corner of his lips as you softly rocked your hips against his — a small moan ripping from your throat when his cock grazed your sweet spot as he pulled away slightly, leaving just the tip inside before he slammed his hips back into yours; evoking a loud scream that ripped from your throat, your walls squeezing him like a vice as you trembled underneath his body. 

“Shit, doll.” Toji cursed under his breath, a coarse chuckle shortly leaving his lips. “Cumming, already?”

His calloused fingers traced over your hips, thus gripping onto your waist; his nails dug into your skin – his resolve crumbling by the second. 

“You can take another one, right doll? For me?” Toji questioned you, raising a brow towards you; watching you attempt to utter a response, but merely trembling as a result when he began moving his hips once more; relishing in the way your body reacted to his –– your hips trembling underneath his, your velvety walls clamping down on him – all whilst giving him a pleading look; your cheeks flushed and your eyes blown in lust. 

He chuckled, licking his lips. “Do ya even realize how lewd ya look right now?” 

He thrusted his hips roughly into yours, his fat cock sliding in and out of your soaked walls in ease. You stuffed your face into his shoulder, biting onto his collarbone to stifle the myriads of moans that threatened to leave your trembling lips. 

“Your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight,” Toji said, purring as he rocked his hips into yours. “Like the way I’m stretchin’ your little hole out, doll?”

“O-Oh my god,” you whimpered into his neck, your nails digging into his skin; your voice jumpy from each rough thrust Toji made as he pistoned his cock in and out of your cunt; squeezing him back in each time. Each thrust he made, your body bounced along with it -– sliding onto the mattress; he made it his mission to fuck you silly. Jaws slacked and erotic groans escaping his lips, his nails digging into your hips as he continued on with his relentless pace; relishing in the way your body meld into his, your mouth agape as all the words that left your words would be incoherent. It was all so arousing, fucking you into an incoherent mess whilst you begged him for more.

You closed your eyes for a mere moment, reveling in the delightful pleasure — but with a rough thrust, the tip of his cock hitting that spot so deliciously, you shot your eyes wide open with a sharp gasp. Toji’s hand cupped your cheek before squeezing them, his dark eyes staring down at yours with a look of warning. 

“Hey, doll — open yer eyes, and don’t ya fuckin’ dare look away. Look at the man who’s fuckin’ you good, yeah?” He warned, nearing his face to yours — your lips merely inches apart. The husky, strained timbre in his voice sent waves of arousal throughout your whole entire body. Nodding your head eagerly, you could hardly utter a response, any noise that managed to escape your throat were in the forms of moans and incoherent praises. 

Your mind was going blank, overwhelmed with pleasure and ecstasy. You were, quite literally, on cloud nine. The pleasure you felt was simply incomparable, and you could only feel yourself drown in it. Rolling your eyes back, another breathy moan escaped your lips; your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. The pit broiling in your stomach returned, and you could feel it building back up rapidly. 

“Mm—Fuck! I-I’m…” You tried to say in between moans, your body jumping up in tandem to the man’s powerful thrusts. “T-Toji… Ngh! I’m so close — you’re fucking me so good… Ah!”

Your voice alone was nearly enough to get the man to cum, but he relented. He bit his lips and clenched his jaw, reveling in the ecstatic sensations.

“Fuck, doll.” Toji mumbled out a curse, clenching his jaw. He dug his nails deeper into your waist, taking it all within him to not cum right then and there — especially when your pussy was squeezing him so nicely. A strained moan escaped your lips, riding out your orgasm; your arms pulling the man close. Just as when you had thought you could have a moment to recover, his strong arms had lifted you up from the bed — manhandling you, and you shortly found yourself on your knees; bent over with your ass high up in the air.

Smack!

Moaning, your body jumped at the stinging sensation of his palm making contact with your ass, feeling the heat radiate across the skin. Though, within seconds, your body melted to his touch; his strong hands caressing and squeezing your derrière, eliciting a soft hum that left your lips —

“O-Oh!” You pressed your lips together, your eyes immediately rolling to the back of your head when he thrusted his cock back in – drenched in all your juices as he effortlessly slid back in; reaching the hilt, his tip brushing against your cervix as he rocked his hips back and forth; his cock grazing your sweet spot with each thrust he fucked into you. Stuffing your head in the comforts of the pillow, you were getting even more sensitive to his touches; every caress from his fingertips sent shocks of pleasure throughout your whole entire body.

Stifled moans escaped your lips, drool trickling down your lips as you gave in to pleasure; inching closer and closer to your release each time he rocked his hips against yours in an unforgiving pace. It was almost as if he was fucking you to impregnate you — his brawny arms wrapped tightly around your waist; pulling you away from his cock before he pulled you back down, stretching your walls in the most delicious way. The many months spent feeling so sexually frustrated had melted away in this instant; the bed squeaked beneath your bodies, his thrusts relentless as he led you closer and closer to nirvana. 

“Ah, shit. You feel so fuckin’ good, doll” You could hear Toji’s grunts from behind you. “Hah, this pussy’s all for me, yeah? Hah––Mm…”

“Mmm… Fuck, yes! ‘S all for you, Toji — Ah!” You replied through stifled moans, your voice muffled by the pillow pressed against your face. “Y-You’re fucking me so deep…!”

“Atta girl,” Toji hummed and despite being unable to see him in that moment, you knew very well that he had a smug smirk tugged at the corners of his lips while he continued to fuck you.

You lifted your head slightly from the pillow, turning your face slightly towards Toji –– a look of concentration was plastered across his face; beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck, strands of his hair stuck onto his forehead, his teeth gritted against one another. Fuck, he was too sexy. Loud mewls left your mouth, thrusting your hips into his cock as you desperately chased after your release.

“K-Kiss me, Toji.” You said, your voice pleading. An abrupt moan escaped your lips shortly after, followed with a small whine when you felt his large hand wrap around your throat –– hoisting you up slightly while he pistoned his cock inside you, and he pressed his lips against yours; muffling the loud moans and whimpers that tumbled out of your mouth as he tangled his tongue with yours. He traveled his hand below your abdomen, his calloused fingertips rubbing firm circles against your sensitive bud — his lips not once ever leaving yours. You whined in his lips, feeling yourself losing strength in your arms. However, with his one arm hooked around your chest, he held your body up as he continued to fuck and rub your pussy. You were about to melt.

This all felt too fucking good. 

“Ah! Mmm—Ngh! I-I’m gonna come again—! I… Hah… Fuck… ‘m so fucking close — please, Toji. I wanna come so fucking bad—!” You whined in his mouth, bucking your hips desperately against his; your legs twitched each time his hips met yours, hitting that sweet spot each time he fucked his fat cock inside your velvety walls. “O-Oh my god, this feels s’fucking goooood.”

“Yeah?” Toji queried, groaning at your words, and you nodded your head eagerly. Suddenly, your face was once again pressed to the pillows; his large hand pinning your head in place while the other returned to your clit — rubbing rough circles on the sensitive bud as he rutted his hips into yours with an unwavering fervor.

“Shit. Come for me then, doll.” He grinned, clenching his jaw as he slammed his hips into yours, driving your body forward on the mattress. 

The lewd noises of his hips rocking into yours, mixed with your wanton cries and his groans filled the room; only increasing in volume the closer you were towards reaching your orgasm. Given his staggered thrusts, you were certain he was also close.

“Mmm––Toji..” You mewled his name in between your needy whimpers and moans. “Hah! Ngh… Cum inside me…Ah! Want you… Mmm… to fill me up.” 

Toji’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace as he fucked you arduously; his lips latching onto your collarbone, peppering a line of kisses and love bites. 

A loud cry ripped from your lips, your whole entire body trembling as your orgasm washed over you; your eyes rolling to the back of  your head as you arched your back against his chest in pure bliss — your hips convulsing as your juices, once again, sprayed all over his cock and the mattress. The raven-haired man tightened his grip on your breasts, practically squeezing the mound as he succumbed to the rhapsodies of his release.

“Oh, fuuuck.” Toji let out a drawn out groan, slumping his body atop yours as the tip of his cock slammed against your cervix, coating your walls with thick layers of white, warm fluid. Breathing heavily and as small grunts escaped his lips, his brows furrowed at the way your walls clenched tightly around him in an attempt to milk him dry. Languidly, he pulled out of your heat, his dark eyes glued onto the masterpiece he had created –– watching his seed trickle down your hole. Grinning, he stuck his finger back in, pushing his cum back inside your wet folds. 

Heavy breaths filled the room, then returned the noises of the beads of rain smacking against the window. He glanced back up at you, his gaze locked onto your flushed face before he leaned in, pressing a chaste peck on your lips and slumping on the bed next to you.

“Are you feelin’ alright, doll?” Questioned Toji, caressing his fingers against your cheek. You nodded in response, cracking an enormous smile. 

“I feel better than ever,” you said, nuzzling your head into his neck; your arms snaking around his muscular arm. “I loved every moment of it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Toji smirked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, placing it behind your ear. “Me, too.”

He shortly left the bed, making wide strides towards the washroom –– returning with a towel in his hand. Reaching out for the towel, you were about to thank him but he stopped you; his hands softly pushing you back down on the mattress.

 “Oomph…!” Was the sound you made as your back made contact with the soft mattress, and you snapped your gaze to Toji’s.

“Lemme take care of you, doll. You don’ gotta worry bout anythin’ else.” 

You sighed in relaxation, relishing in the sensations of the soft and warm towel pressed against your skin; cleaning off the sweat and excess juices. “Thank you, Toji.” 

He replied with a low hum, his hands caressing your body in a newfound tenderness. Your heart swelled at the gesture, your lips cracking a soft smile as you continued to watch the older man take good care of you and your worn out body. 

“If you’re not feelin’ too sore yet, care to join me in the shower after this?”As if all the fatigue had instantly evaporated from your body, you had never uttered yes so fast until this very moment.

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 !

Naoya couldn't believe his eyes, his body frozen in place like a deer in headlights as he stared into the small crack of the door of the dressing room, his eyes unable to peer away from the sight of his older cousin fucking his ex-girlfriend like a madman; his flushed ears picking up on the lewd sounds of your stifled mewls paired with the squelching noises of both your bodies connecting together. His mouth was agape, he had never heard you make such a sound — filled with wanton, let alone seen you make an expression so obscenely lewd.

 He glanced down at his own trousers, noticing the ache that was beginning to grow beneath his boxers. Shit.

When he first stumbled across you at his cousin, Zen’in Mai’s wedding reception with Airi clinging closely onto his arm, the last thing he expected was to see you by his cousin’s side  — and what was even more frustrating was how Toji wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side without breaking eye contact. It was almost as if Toji was mocking him, especially with that smug smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. 

No words were exchanged between you and the blond male, there wasn’t any need to. 

Naoya had thought nothing of it, at first. After all, it had been months since you had both taken your separate ways; he immediately made his relationship with his coworker official. Although Airi could be extremely clingy at times, he felt happy — at ease, even. After all, he could finally love his woman out in the open without any more shame. Though, after the initial encounter with you and Toji, he never crossed paths with you again during the reception. He could only stare from the distance, watching you happily chat with both Maki and Mai for a brief moment before he noticed a bright pair of eyes peering at him, and he shifted his gaze onto his girlfriend’s.

An hour had nearly passed, but Naoya was, undeniably, growing the biggest urge to simply walk out of the reception and head on home. While everyone busied themselves on the dance floor, chatting away with the other guests, or getting their nth plate of the night, Naoya had excused himself to the washroom. 

Strolling down the empty hallways, his eyes scanned around the corridor to look for any familiar restroom signs — the blaring music playing that the venue rang in his ears. He stuck his hands into his pocket, feeling the irritation slowly getting to him. But then, all those feelings of growing frustration came to an abrupt halt when he heard your voice and that of another man’s. He lifted his head, tilting it over to the side in curiosity. There was noise coming from the dressing room, the door up ahead, and he could see a little bit of light peeking through the door. 

“Babe,” Naoya could hear your playful whines through the door, “I-I don’t think we should do this here..! What if someone sees us?”

“Then let them see us. This is ya fault ya know?” Toji said, his voice low. “You don’t think I haven’t noticed you sneakin’ around, pressing yer ass against my dick? There’s only so much patience I can take in, doll.”

He could hear you stifle a moan, letting out a sharp gasp as Toji thrusted his hips into yours.

“You dirty girl, look at how yer pussy’s grippin’ so nicely around my cock. You love my cock, dont’cha?”

“Mhm—Ah! Yes, baby!” You moaned pathetically, taking everything within you to control your volume. 

Naoya’s hand immediately slapped over his mouth, feeling the blood rush to his face. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten closer to the door — he could either 1) turn around to leave and return to the reception, or 2) leave to continue searching for the bathroom. Either way, the best course of action was to leave, yet he still found himself standing in front of the door — staring between the small crack in complete awe at the sight before him. 

Toji had you perched up atop the wooden dresser, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips as he slammed his hips into your drenched heat; his hands snaked underneath your dress, squeezing your ass as he pulled you closer unto his cock. You writhed, throwing your head back as you could feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head; your mind was going numb due to the pleasure your older boyfriend was giving you — stretching your pussy out in the most delicious way possible. 

“Y-You’re so fucking big, baby…” You mewled out, a sharp gasp leaving your lips with each thrust he slammed his fat cock into you; evoking obscene noises of your hips meeting each other. “I-I wan’ more, please… baby—!”

His mouth was agape, he had never heard you make such a sound — filled with wanton, let alone seen you make an expression so obscenely lewd; your face all flushed, your eyes clouded in unadulterated lust as drool trickled down your lips. 

 Naoya glanced down at his own trousers, noticing the ache that was beginning to grow between his legs. 

“Shit,” he mumbled out, unable to control the blood rushing to both his face and his erection. He should’ve run away –– he had to, but for some reason his feet stayed planted on the ground and his eyes were unable to look away from the pornographic scene; your hands all tangled up in his older cousin’s raven locks, his lips and tongue messily locked with yours — muffling your needy moans as he continued to fuck you in a relentless pace, the head of his cock kissing your cervix each and every time. 

Each noise that was elicited from your lips sent shocks of arousal straight to his heat, and he gritted his teeth. He knew this was wrong — hell, it even felt wrong. Yet, his feet wouldn’t budge. 

Shiiiiit.