𝒍𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒕

and it would have been with half as much amusement your partners cackled at your reactions with infuriating delight. 

the men who argued as if they were seconds away from drawing their guns on each other seemed to find common ground—and of course, it’s at your expense. the girlish giggles that erupt when your lips gape are nothing like the deep-toned gruffness that dipped their voices low whenever they snapped at each other. their back-and-forths in your shoebox-sized office resembled those of two temperamental bulls trapped in the same enclosure. both rearing their horns in a completely unnecessary show of strength, and neither willing to back down, even when the argument no longer made sense. 

you found yourself escaping to the break room more often than not, and suguru, ever the gentleman, or perhaps just the slyer of the two, would come over with a peace offering in the form of a cup of coffee.

you would have found the gesture sweet if it didn’t happen so very often.

coffee every other day, sometimes twice a day, was a little excessive, and you swore the caffeine rush was getting to you because you began to look forward to those few moments of quiet more and more each week.

he would sit next to you, somedays working on a file and others talking your ear off while you savoured every toasty drop. each cup he made tasted better than the last and it was surprising because you don’t recall telling him how you preferred it to begin with.

suguru was…tolerable, almost likeable but satoru gojo was another story.

between the less-than-subtle sexual innuendos and the sleazy pet names, you’re surprised you haven’t already turned in your badge number for an inmate number. and as if your morbid musings spur him on somehow, the man comes to your side and slings an arm over your shoulder. a muscle below your eye twitches when he leans down to whisper in your ear, soft lips grazing over the shell, “you should stay close, sugar. who knows what we’ll need to do to blend in?”

the question earns him an elbow to the ribs, and you smile at the loud “oof!” that follows.

“if it gets to that, i’d rather blow our cover, gojo.”

he pouts at your insistence on using his last name despite how many times he has told you otherwise, but it's how you got payback for all the terms of endearment he’d drawl your way as if they meant nothing. uh…not that you wanted them to mean something but—ugh whatever.

“that almost hurt as much as your freakishly sharp elbow.”

you almost chew him out but think better of it at the last second. there was a hitman to catch, so you couldn’t waste these precious moments bickering over trivial matters, especially when you finally had the suspects key identifiers after a year of investigating. 

the man you were after was said to be japanese and his late thirties. he had a muscular build and stood over six feet tall, with a noticeable scar on his face. true to his alias, he appeared and disappeared like a ghost and he boasted a 100% success rate, taking down all his targets with daunting precision and leaving no trace of evidence behind. that is until he got sloppy and let the man you took in for questioning live.

and that’s how you found out that he frequented this hellhole for a victory lap after each of his kills.

naturally, knowing so much about the infamous hitman had your belly flipping in anticipation of bringing him in, but that feeling was soon subdued when your partners thew a shopping bag onto your lap. one look inside nearly had you dropping the whole case.  

“we need to fit in.” they said.

bull.fucking.shit.

your simple pantsuits were swapped out for a pleated skirt that fit like a belt and a shirt with a neckline so low, it’s out of sheer luck you haven’t had a nip slip yet. your teeth clatter from the cold, and you start to regret elbowing satoru away so quickly.

he was really warm…you bet his hugs were to die for.

when your thoughts stray into unwanted territory, you turn your attention back to the search. your eyes burn a hole into the floor as pleasure-filled moans filter through the various rooms you walk past and you think a man starts to call out to you, but his words cut off into a croak mid-sentence, as if a hand snapped out and squeezed around his neck.

daring to look up, you find that his eyes aren't even on you. no, they’re focused above your head, filled with so much unease, you can't help but follow his line of sight. the glare satoru and suguru give him almost startles you too. their irises swirl, gazes melding into a deep blue-violet that emits a frostbite iciness and skin-searing heat all at once. when a hand touches the small of your back, you aren’t sure whose it is, but allow it to steer you away nonetheless.

the vip access card that satoru paid for—with suspicious familiarity—gave you free rein to roam wherever you wanted, so the three of you headed for the stairs. and stepping into the upper levels of the den feels like being pulled into a little pocket universe.

crystal chandeliers hang low from the ceiling. their shards tinkling against each other like wind chimes, and bulbs shimmering with a rich orange hue that warms your skin the slightest bit. sleek canopies suspend the domes, so polished they nearly gave the impression that they were silver, but you know they’d have to be steel to hold that much weight.

the lights make the pale walls look amber and being drawn in as if the very gem were being dangled before you, your feet carry you further inside. heels click over glossy marble floors and you take in the bespoke furniture scattered all around. the expensive kind with price tags that would’ve undoubtedly made you faint if you saw them.

definitely the kind of area a regular would lurk around.

you’re close. you know you are, and the prospect of finding the perp makes you stop hugging yourself like you’d catch something if you let go. suguru must see the opportunity too, because he stops walking and suggests splitting up to cover more ground, but satoru is already shaking his head before he finishes talking.

“there could be a killer in the building, and you want to split up? every horror movie starts that way, man.”

suguru’s lips twitch in the manner they always did before he lost his temper. before his words would lash out and strike like a whip. “then it’s a good thing we’re not in a movie. we can’t afford to stay here longer than necessary.”

they both had a point, but they were getting loud. too loud, and while you were fine with leaving them to it at the station, you showed a lot less leniency when they argued on the field. so, when they glance over, waiting for you to pick a side, your irritation must show on your face judging on how they quickly fall silent.

your glower lasts a second longer before you turn on your heel, and you amble closer to an area shielded by a white curtain. there’s a short pause before two sets of footfalls follow your path. satoru takes longer strides and gets to the opening first, holding the gossamer fabric open for you and smiling widely when you reluctantly thank him.

you have a feeling he doesn’t offer the same courtesy to suguru because he curses, and cool air brushes over your bare legs as the curtains are forcibly opened again.

inside the room, more drapes hang off the walls and cool-toned leds and ivy garlands branch over them like vines. marble flooring is swapped out for artificial grass that makes your footing a little wobbly as you walk further in. some people are sitting on the fluffy couches that line the wall. interactions varying from cordial conversation between strangers to heated kisses shared by lovers, and some people are doing a lot more than kissing.

when you realise the sight doesn’t leave you as scandalised as before, you want to hurry up and leave even more, because if a few minutes in this den could have you barely flinching at exhibitionism, who knows what else you may become desensitised to if you stayed longer? god forbid it became so bad you’d lean into the warm sets of hands that press to the small of your back, holding you steady when you stumbled. deep down, you know that the shiver that feathers over it has nothing to do with the cold.

the men’s touches last a moment longer before withdrawing to disperse and fan through the room to gather more intel.

satoru slides into a conversation with a small group sitting on the couch like he was part of them, and you shake your head when they easily make room for him to sit. suguru’s black-clad form blends into the shadowy corners of the room, stubbornly clinging to the walls as he listens for anything that may be valuable. and you are left to scrutinise the seas of people and check if anyone matches the description of the suspect. 

unfortunately, walking over the fake tufts of grass in the stilettos and trying to find him between the bodies pressed together in sex-crazed coils turns out to be a lot harder than you thought. it takes you a while to clear the room as safe but once you do, you come to a stop near a statue.

you ignored it when you came in because it was the only ugly part of the makeshift indoor garden. sure, it was well sculpted, showcasing the female form in its glory of curves and dips in all the right places, but it’s the expression on the woman’s face that throws you off. 

deep grooves are cut into the marble near its eyes, and its mouth is stretched wide in a scream. you think it's supposed to be one of pleasure, but she just looks terrified.

you lean in, squinting at it critically.

why were people so obsessed with seeing women in pain during sex? there’s no reason for such a beautiful piece to—

there’s a soft spitting sound from inside the statue’s mouth, and a second later, pink vapour explodes from it and sprays right onto your face. you splutter, backing up a few paces as the sweet-smelling fumes fill your nose.

yuck. you cough. what the hell was that?

rubbing your nose and exhaling sharply does nothing to expel the smell. if anything, the vapour only engulfs your senses more and leaves you a little dizzy.

feeling like you need a moment, you walk to the exit and shove the curtain out of the way. once, outside, you take long, deep breaths silently hoping no one witnessed that embarrassing moment. 

but, of course, you aren’t that lucky.

“muffin?” satoru calls behind you and you nearly laugh because that was a new one. he’s so ridiculous, “you okay? you ran out like your ass was on fire.”

oh, thank god he didn’t see everything, it makes you feel a little better because he would never let you live it down if he did. you only turn around when the sickly-sweet scent disperses.

“i’m fine,” you reply. ignoring the strange buzz of electricity that starts humming under your skin. “didn’t find anything. you?”

satoru shakes his head, then looks towards the door at the end of the hallway, “we can move to the next room so long.”

“where’s suguru?” looking for him through the sheer drapes is a hopeless endeavour, and satoru doesn't even try as he loops an arm around your shoulders to steer you away. “i thought you said we should stay together.”

he pulls the door open, “but we are staying together. sugu’s a big boy, he’ll be alright.”

your snort shocks you almost as much as it does him. it’s unfamiliar and hearty enough to leave him standing at the door even when you walk further into the room.  

oh.

it wasn’t just any room. it’s a bedroom. with a bed so wide it nearly touches the walls at either side and while it registers that there's no one in the room, and therefore, no reason to stay, your legs seem to have a mind of their own as they lead you to it.

the sheets are white and pristine, so clean they look brand new, and you breathe in the lavender-scented fabric softener with a pleased sigh.

ah, yes, this was much better than whatever you inhaled earlier.

you were freezing just minutes ago, but now liquid heat spreads all over your skin. it seeps under it, gliding south to spur low in your belly, then even further until it situates itself between your thighs.

the dramatic change must be what has the next words leaving your mouth.

“do you think people have orgies in here? at least ten people should be able to fit on this bed.” 

satoru stutters and ivory brows skyrocket, “you’re…asking me about orgies?”

when you nod, gojo does something you didn't know he was capable of. he doesn't speak. he just lets the door close behind him and takes you by the shoulders, looking over your face like he was trying to find something that wasn’t supposed to be here.

“something’s wrong. what’s going on with you?”

his hands are too warm. it feels like his palms burn your skin where he holds you, so you shrug them off.

“nothing.” a giggle blurts out, so he knows that’s not the truth.

“your pupils are dilated.” it takes some time for him to catch up, but once he does, cerulean eyes go round. his hands go to grip your shoulders again. this time, you lean closer to him instead of pulling away, and action only confirms his suspicions. “holy shit, you’re on something! please tell me you didn’t eat or drink while we weren’t looking.”

you shake your head, then, seeing that he already knows, you decide to come clean.

“i think it was the screaming lady.”

satoru looks at you like you just grew a second head, and his brain can’t keep up with the sudden change in perception, “the what?”

“the statue. it sprayed something.”

you want to say more but give up at the last moment. your clothes are too tight. they're making your skin itch. 

luckily, satoru nods in understanding.

“was it perfume or mist?”

you only shrug in response, then your hand lifts to fan your face. perspiration beads along your forehead, breathing a little too heavy.

“it’s hot in here.” you tug at your cropped tee with two fingers. “aren’t you hot? i…mean you’re obviously hot but—“

a snicker cuts you off, and satoru’s shoulders continue to shake even as he tries his hardest to hold his laughter in.

“oh, i’m never letting you forget you said that.”

you frown at him.

he never took you seriously, so you guess you’ll have to do something to force him to do so. fingers catch the hem of your shirt, and you see his jaw drop. he reaches out to stop you, but it’s too late.

“holy shit!”

you pull your shirt over your head, and satoru’s eyes follow the arc it makes as you throw it to the other side of the room. then slowly, almost hesitantly, his attention moves back to you.

being sans bra has his eyes landing on your bare tits, and you see his hands twitch at his sides.

“babe,” a nervous laugh follows, “i need you to put your shirt back on. right fucking now.”

you make no sign of listening, so with a wavering sigh, he takes a step in the direction of the discarded item—only to rush back to you when he sees your thumbs hook into the waistband of your skirt. as if it would be next to go.

this time, though, he does manage to stop you, and you groan out your displeasure.

“god,” a light flush settles over his pale cheeks, and he stares into your eyes a little too intensely. like he’s trying to keep himself from looking down at your tits again. “okay. why don’t you—uh—why don’t you sit down?” he lifts you and moves you towards the bed. “yeah, just stay put while i go call suguru.”

he sets you down, and sensing he’s about to pull away, your arms and legs wind around his form.

there’s a squeak of surprise a man with a voice as deep as his shouldn’t be able to make when you pull him into the bed with you. his back hits the mattress, and you think he curses again, but you don’t recognise the word so it has to be something in his mother tongue.

satoru’s hands come up to grasp your hips when you straddle him, and he whispers your name shakily. your actual name, not one of the terms of endearment you’ve reluctantly grown to love. you wonder if the sadness that settles over you is what he feels every time you use his last name, and not liking the idea, you decide to take a page out of his book.

“you're so pretty, toru,”

your lace panties are impossibly thin—and damp—so they do nothing to hide how his cock stirs under you.

“oh, i see what this is,” his eyes clench shut, wispy lashes fluttering, and his hands flex around your hips. “you’re trying to kill me.”

his laughter as he says that has a maniacal edge to it, and it has your nipples pebbling in need. reaching down for his hand and taking it off your body is a little difficult. it’s like he didn’t want to let go, but after prying it off your skin, you open his palm and lay it over your chest.

“’m not.”

his eyes flicker open when he feels soft skin under his hand, pupils blown so wide it looks like there’s a bottomless whirlpool within the seas of blue. your joined hands go to cover your breast and you swear his hips inch up a fraction.

and just when you can feel him beginning to crack, the door is pushed open. suguru stops dead in his tracks. eyes going blank as he takes in the scene before him.

“what,” he starts. voice completely flat. “the fuck?”

your skirt rides up your thighs, ass peeking out and when suguru’s amethyst eyes sweep over your half-naked body, your hips instinctively rock against the man pinned under you. the action emits something of a moan and a gasp. “she breathed in some kind of lust dust,” he explains, panicked. and suguru slams the door shut before stalking over.

“then why the hell do you have her on top of you?” sable brow furrow as he looks down at the man, and you could be wrong, but you think his eyes momentarily flicker to your bare thighs. “she’s clearly not in her right state of mind.”

“she’s on top of me!” satoru’s voice is shrill as he answers. “how is this my fault?” as if on cue, you squirm, hips shifting restlessly until you find the spot that has your eyes fluttering shut and finally, the ache in your cunt eases a little.

you’re not the only one affected by the change in friction because satoru shudders hard, pearly teeth baring in a soft hiss.  “can you stop mean-mugging me and help?” he asks, and suguru finally allows himself to look your way.

he tilts his head, your name coming out as a whispered question before his hands stretch, but he doesn’t touch you the way you'd hoped. suguru cups the undersides of your arms, and when you feel him start to lift you, you fully go off the rails.

in an act of sheer desperation, you lean forward and kiss him. not on the lips, not yet. you just rest your mouth against the corner of his, breathing in his woodsy scent and feeling how the muscles of his face work as he clenches his jaw.

“okay, so this is not helping.” satoru chokes out with his body quivering like a live wire between your legs.

you pull away from the black—haired man, and his eyes are unnaturally dark when you look into them. he just stares at you, completely still and blinks few and far apart. 

“how long does it take to wear off?”

he asks satoru, who has been watching the exchange with his lower lip folded between his teeth.

“four to six hours,” he supplies after releasing his lip with a wet pop. your chest tightens. there was no way you could wait that long. “but…” satoru continues, and you perk up. “the hormone spike after an orgasm can get it out her system a lot faster.”

oh. you like that option a lot more, and when you say as much, suguru shakes his head. “you’re not sober, sweetheart.”

maybe. but you weren’t blackout drunk either. the mist only heightened what was already there. made your body more sensitive and lips looser.

“i would’ve chased both of you out and taken care of it myself if i didn’t want you here.”

suguru’s brows pitch, and satoru hums as if agreeing with you. 

but a sickly feeling begins to creep in at their hesitance. it’s possible that they just aren’t interested. and while it stings, you can’t be mad at them for not being attracted to you. not to mention you were all literally on the clock. the gun for hire could be lurking anywhere.

there was no time for this.

your hands tremble where they lie on satoru’s broad chest, and when you slowly lift them, he grips your hips a little harder. as if he knows what you were thinking, he shakes his head at you, wordlessly trying to dispel those thoughts with the simple gesture.

“baby,” you nearly smile, but the look in his eyes makes you hesitate. satoru has a habit of going from grave seriousness to wild playfulness at the drop of a hat. and now, he wears the former and tips his head at you.  

it has your heart racing in your chest. erratic and slow all at once, thumping in time with the pulsing in your core. your mouth feels dry, and even when your tongue swipes over your lips, it doesn’t help. only one thing would, and satoru seems to know it too.

“do you want to wait it out, or do you want me to help you?”

your lips part—

“we’ll help.” your head swings to suguru, and you startle to find him already watching you. “if that’s what you choose.”

we as in both? at the same time?

well, it was easy to guess which option you’re picking. it was a no-brainer.

you’re spoiled for choice. 

on the one hand, there’s suguru: sweet and attentive as he positions himself behind you with his strong legs on either side of satoru’s. he peppers gentle kisses over the column of your neck, hovering over the patch of skin where your pulse jumps and letting his tongue roll over it. the open-mouthed kiss earns a soft moan from you that quickly descends into a squeal when satoru digs his nails into the soft flesh of your ass. 

you’re still straddling him, but he isn't being as bashful as he was minutes ago. 

whereas suguru leaves featherlight touches over your tits and drags his hands across your navel, satoru’s hands are hurried, almost rough as he squeezes your rear and forces you to grind onto his clothed cock harder. 

he does this even though your hips desperately rock against him, and thrusts in time to meet your movements. frantic, he folds your skirt up so he can see your panties, only to croon at the sight of the mess you’re leaving all over his pants. 

“pretty fucking girl.” he huffs, rolling his hips hard enough to make you lose your balance, but suguru is there to steady you again. “yeah, baby just like that. rub that greedy pussy on me and make yourself cum.” 

blood roars in your ears, heart thrashing painfully in your chest and as if the man behind you can sense it, he lays a hand over it almost soothingly. 

ah, suguru was so sweet.

that same hand slithers up to wrap around your neck and tug your head towards him for a hungry kiss. suguru puts pressure on the sides, and when your jaw drops open on a breathless gasp, his tongue plunges into your mouth. 

shit, never mind.

from his breathless groan, you know satoru is watching the two of you kiss again…he seems to like doing that.

you’ll admit that you're a little shocked by the seamless precision with which the men work to bring your body to the edge. there’s no jealousy or possessiveness behind their caresses, and even when they get carried away—hands brushing together, they carry on as if nothing happened. you almost get the impression they've done this before, and it has jealousy pricking goosebumps over your skin. 

you try to shake it off by reminding yourself that these men hated each other, and focusing on that was much better than imagining how many women got the pleasure of experiencing this before you. 

but as it were, the emotion never really leaves. 

it just twines itself with everything else churning low in your belly. dizzying pleasure and the hot zip of pressure caused by the aphrodisiac. your head lolls forward, and even when suguru eases his hold, a strangled croak still escapes. 

sensation explodes so suddenly that it has you crying out, and suguru slants his mouth over yours harder. he steals all the sounds you make and fervently licks at the mess of drool that coats your bottom lip like it’s the best thing he has ever tasted.

satoru pulls you harder onto his length with a sadistic chuckle when you whine from overstimulation and he keeps you pressed to him even as your body stops gyrating, falling slack when the heat that flooded over your skin finally bleeds away. both men’s bodies brim with wild tension while you come down from your high and knowing that the fumes are out of your system now, they start pulling away.  

“more.” your mouth demands before your brain can catch up. 

you can't even use being dosed as an excuse anymore. this was just who you were. and thank fuck, they don't make you feel bad for it.

you’re rolled onto the mattress, and you nearly melt into it when satoru sits up to take your heels off, and suguru pulls your skirt and panties down your legs. the hunger in their eyes once you’re completely naked sends a flush warm your cheeks, and it only worsens when they start undressing too.

you get an eyeful of their skin. tan and pale velvety expanses that span over thick cords of muscle as far as the eye can see. even so, you try your best to take in as many as you can, from thick beefy biceps to washboard abs and rippling pectorals that quiver with each heavy breath they take. 

you’re glad they didn’t get undressed earlier because when your gaze travels south and lands on their hard cocks, you know you would’ve fainted if you saw them like this while the fumes were still in your system. 

they approach at the same time, both settling between your legs, and you think their brief truce is over when you see them exchange irritated frowns. 

“i’m going first.” satoru clarifies, and his roughened palms grip your skin like he's going to pull you away. it’s hard enough to hurt, so you aren’t sure why your thighs get wetter with slick that pools from your fluttering cunt. 

“how about you let her decide?” suguru challenges with a mean smirk that makes him more handsome somehow. 

something was wrong with you.

glittering amethyst eyes flicker your way, and the pad of his finger draws a line along the underside of your knee, while satoru plants a wet kiss on your inner thigh, eyelashes batting as he peers up at you.

how could they expect you to summon enough mental energy to choose who you wanted first? you were already struggling to remember how to breathe! 

“i’m going to say neither of you if you keep arguing.” that was a lie. you know nothing could pry you off this bed, but satoru takes the bait.

with a growl, he bridges the distance and puts his mouth on you. your back bows with a soft gasp escaping from your parted lips. your mouth hangs open in a soundless scream when he latches his pinkish lips around your clit, feverishly suctioning it into his mouth. your surprised moan echoes off the walls of the bedroom when teeth graze over the sensitive skin.

the heel of your foot digs into the muscles of his toned back, trying to pull him closer, but suguru shoulders him away and takes his place. his hand moves to palm your ass, hauling you closer before spearing his thick tongue inside of you. 

“oh fuck—don’t stop,” your tits bounce with the shudder that racks through you when he pushes deeper into your hole, and the reaction elicits a groan from the other man. 

never known for his patience, satoru lowers between your thighs again, and since suguru isn’t willing to back up either, their hands push your legs apart before they both start lapping your cunt.

you’re a blabbering mess and completely soaked, that each each flick of their tongues resounds with a wet squelch. you try to say their names but end up slurring instead. your body shakes, and as your mind drifts back to the woman you saw getting eaten out what felt like hours ago, you feel bad for thinking her moans were fake. because yours was ten times louder now. 

your fingers twist into both men’s hair. getting lost in black and white tresses so you can guide them right where you want. 

saliva and arousal mix to make an obscene meld and no matter how much they licked, slurped and sucked at the stringy rivulets, more drooled in their place. you look down to see their tongues thumping over your clit, and your breath catches when you see the pinkish flesh smack together before swirling in a sodden tangle. it’s like in their efforts to one-up each other, they didn’t even realise they’re practically kissing over your cunt.

or maybe they do, and they just don’t care.

you can’t say the same, though. your hands act on their own accord, perverted little devils that tilt satoru and suguru’s heads towards each other by their hair, and they kiss without skipping a beat.

it's a hot, open-mouthed clash of teeth and lips that has them smearing the mess of your juices over each other's chins and mouths while swallowing pleasured groans. 

“i’m gonna—" fingers promptly slide into you, you don’t even know whose, only that they shove you headfirst into an orgasm that darkens the corners of your vision and has your body convulsing.

they pull away from each other and satoru turns to you first. his mouth hikes up into a small smirk at the fucked out look you’re sporting. 

“don’t tell me you’re too tired to keep going, sweets?” he asks, standing up, and your eyes track down to his cock. seeing where your attention his, he gives it two hard pumps, somehow making it harder and bigger than before. “guess not,” a wet kiss is pressed to your mouth and he whispers against it. “where do you want it?”

lips parting, you let your tongue hang out, and satoru makes a choked noise in the back of his throat.

he repositions you, angling your head at the edge of the bed and tapping his flushed tip against your tongue. creamy saltiness dribbles onto it, and wanting to taste even more, you push forward and wrap your lips around him.  

the sound he makes is new. a blend between a hiccup and a whimper that has your jaw opening wider and your legs follow the action, parting in silent encouragement that suguru latches onto. 

his cock nudges between slippery folds, then he slowly pushes into you. 

“so,” suguru bottoms out, eyes pinching when he feels you struggling to adjust to his girth, “fucking” fingers tease over your fluttering clit, rolling the hood of skin up to expose a pearly bud, “beautiful.” 

there's an almost innocent reverence in the words, but it's quickly dirtied when he parts his lips and lets a fat blob of spit splatter onto the sensitive flesh. slick pools around his length in a messy white ring, and unable to help himself, his hips snap into you with a shallow thrust. you moan, or try to because satoru takes the opportunity to shove himself deeper into your mouth. 

“fuuuck—take it,” he grunts when the spongy tip hits the back of your throat, and a soft gag echoes. you breathe through your nose and swallow around him to draw out one of those high-pitched whimpers that have your pussy clenching.

“so good,” suguru’s thrust becomes less experimental, and he grips your thighs, pulling you to meet each drunken snap of his hips and rubbing his fingers over your clit harder when it pulses rather pathetically.

satoru’s eyes blaze as they follow the length of your naked body, then they settle between your legs and his lips pull into a feral smile. he stares at how hard you quiver as cock disappears between slick folds and hums. 

“you gonna cum, baby?” you moan around him in answer. nonsensical gabbles that vibrate around his cock as he drives his hips forward. his pelvis touches your chin, and he watches with rapt intensity as a bulge protrudes with each thrust. it has his balls drawing up and nastily slapping against your face. 

suguru paws at your tits, thumbs meanly rubbing over your nipples. “let it out, sweetheart. don’t hold back.”

oh, you weren’t planning to.

and when satoru’s hand closes around your throat, palm gently pressing to the bulge in it, you obey and cum with a strangled scream.

both men push themselves to the hilt, hips shuddering and hands gripping your body so hard, you know it's going to be littered with bruises in a few hours. their cum spills into your mouth and pussy in thick pulses. it's almost too much, but you take every drop and keep yourself still in case there’s more.  

shivers rack through you even after they pull back, and their hands turn gentle to stroke your skin and pepper soft kisses over all the spots that feel a little tender.

praises are whispered into your ears as both man lay beside you on the bed, holding you in their arms and, little by little, you start to settle back into your body.

just when you feel the tendrils of delirium leave you, satoru speaks up, “we’re doing that again tomorrow.”

you snort out a laugh, and even suguru’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle.

“why are you guys laughing? i’m not joking!” 

the white-haired man insists, and suguru pushes his arm off you. 

“shut up, man.” 

*

*

*

untangling from the cage of limbs you wrapped yourselves in was no easy feat, but when the haze of lust dissipates, you force the men to get up. a quick sweep of the rest of the rooms at the pleasure den proves fruitless in locating the suspect, so you decide to head out and return another time.

the men walk ahead of you, arguing about god knows what, while your heels have you trailing many feet behind them. 

you're too busy contemplating taking them off, not paying attention to where you’re going, that your breath sharply escapes when you collide with a hard chest. your eyes close, bracing for impact when you’re knocked off balance, only to be steadied by a strong pair of hands. with a sigh that’s both grateful and relived, you straighten in your heels.

these death traps had to be bought by satoru. you were sure of it.

“i’m so sorry,” you voice when you remember the person you bumped into. you almost ate shit while they barely moved. it was like walking into a wall. a well-built, muscular wall.

your eyes track up to the person’s face, mouth opening to give them your thanks…then you falter when you land on their face.

“you good?” the man asks, and his eyes trap you in their mossy green tresses. they’re shielded by dark hair that does nothing to hide their critical gleam as he watches you, and your heart comes to a stop in your chest. dread and excitement prick at your skin, threatening to sink their claws into you and tear you apart. and these feelings only fill to the brink and bubble over when you see the scar on his lip.

as if this day couldn’t get better, it seems you’ve just found your suspect.

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Didn't even interact apart from fleeting glances during your performances—that he once deluded himself into believing were reserved for him and him alone. Unfortunately, all that did was make it sting a little more when he saw the beckoning smiles you'd flash to other people as well.

If you asked him, Hiromi would have a little trouble pinpointing when seeing your attention elsewhere began to spark jealousy in the pit of his stomach, but if he had to guess, he'd say it started on that fateful night two years ago. 

He dreaded going to Satoru’s bachelor party and throwing himself into work in hopes of delaying the endeavour did fuck all to help.

Bit by bit, the date drew near until it crept up on him. Sweeping him right out of his office chair, warping time and space until he landed on a leather couch that squeaked gratingly every time he moved.

The dark-haired man sat motionless on it. The whiskey glass in his hand clasped so tight it was a miracle it hadn’t given way and broken into a million pieces yet.

He clearly wasn't having fun, but his friends didn't seem to share the sentiment.

The very man who was getting married in a couple of days took the liberty of buying a money gun before coming to the club. 

Satoru’s round rimmed sunglasses were perched so low on his nose they seemed to be seconds away from falling off, and he stood over a woman who dropped onto her knees.

She arched her back, rear perking up, and the ivory-haired man erupted in a shout then pulled the trigger. As paper notes shot out of the barrel, feathering down in a thick downpour, Hiromi decides there and then that he’d be more than happy to represent the man’s future wife when she finally grew tired of his shit and filed for divorce.

It was only a matter of time.

Looking over to his right, Suguru was posed like he was about to pounce on the dancer that was on stage, and one look at her as she slithered down the pole and held his stare told Hiromi that she wouldn't be at all opposed to the idea. 

Just further from him, Shoko let out soft giggles. Smiling wider than he had ever seen as she spoke to the scantily dressed man on her one side, and a curvy woman playing with her hair on the other. 

Hell, even Nanami was smiling lazily at the woman giving him a lap dance, eyes low and breath heavy as he watched her.

Jesus Christ he needed a new friend group. 

That had to be the only solution because how could they be having so much fun?

The bright fluorescent lights hurt his eyes, and when he tried to avert them, he was met with multicoloured LEDs that only did more damage. The smell of too many perfumes filtered through the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and, a little fainter, something muskier. Raunchier. He refused to imagine what it could be.

The AC was set too low, and while it had him shivering, all the dancers who were wearing far less than him didn't seem to mind. They walked by in slips of lingerie. Some satin— lined with feathers at the seams, others cotton peppered with bows or frills and–

Shit.

Lace.

The ear-splitting pop music that was laden with auto-tune is replaced with the heavy thump of some RnB song that had him sitting upright. The beat of it rumbled between his ears with odd familiarity. Something like the rhythmic pounding of a judge’s gavel against the wooden block. 

It made his head swirl. 

Then his eyes latched onto you, and he downed the rest of his drink in one go, gaze never straying away. 

You wore a red lacy number that popped out against your skin. Scarlet swirling thinly to cover your nipples, bra pushing your bust up and the tops of your tits peeking from the edges. 

Your tapered waist was on full display. Midriff so sleek, he reasoned, you must have applied a good helping of body oil to it. He wondered what brand it was. Wondered what it smelled like.

A flash of jewellery at your navel dared to blind him, but he squinted against the harsh glare. He couldn’t look away, not when his gaze drifted south and took in the dainty triangle that sat at the apex of your thighs. Red panties so small he wondered if you'd be willing to lay your life down for the trust you seemed to have in them. 

The fabric is held up by harnesses and straps that span around your hips and circle down to your thighs. 

And at your feet, heels so high he couldn't for the life of him understand how you walked on them with so much effortless grace it looked like you were floating. 

A woman stepped off the platform, and you promptly took her place. Bouncy hair fluttering as your hand wrapped around the golden pole. Higuruma willed himself to look around, and it was hardly a shock that he wasn't the only one watching you. 

A sickly feeling threatened to creep up at the realisation that he was part of a larger crowd of men who fixed their lecherous eyes on you, but then you started dancing, and all those thoughts took a backseat.

Your body moved, and curves followed its path. The type that could bring a man to his knees, begging to squeeze and sink his teeth into them. Higuruma knew he’d be at the front of the line. 

He reclined on the couch, and even when Satoru elbowed him, cackling something about “oh, look who’s interested now!” His attention never waned. His legs spread apart a fraction, trying to ease the sudden tightness around his crotch. And of course, it does nothing to help.

Hiromi knows he’s delusional for thinking you were dancing solely for him, but when glittering eyes flicker to him, who can blame him?

Red-stained lips curl up into a knowing smirk as your legs wind around the pole. They’re shapely and insanely flexible. Pulling you further up the bar, muscles working as you spin, heels clacking sharply before your legs spread into a split mid air.

Holy shit. 

From the way his friends laugh, he might have said that out loud. But he can’t bring himself to care.

The clear soles of your shoes glint under the lights. Body lifting, extending and curling as you did your set. And Higuruma watched with rapt attention, even when you got off the pole and tauntingly ran your hands up your curves, eyes momentarily swinging to his. 

Blood roared in his ears, so loud he didn’t hear the music change or the thunder of applause as you gave a somewhat timid smile. You step off the platform, scooping up a couple of bills that are poured at you along the way.

Then you disappear behind the same door you came through—but not before glancing over your shoulder, eyes spearing through him for half a second.

Higuruma didn't know what the look meant, but he made it his mission to find out. And that’s how he ended up in the same club so often, sat at his regular spot right in front of the pole you always danced at. 

He limited himself to two visits a month so he wouldn’t look like a creep, and he only tried to talk to you twice in all that time. Both times you shot him down. Chuckled in amusement when he asked for your name and smiled like you were flattered when he asked for your number—only to give him neither.   

You’d just leave him sitting all alone on the couch, hands raking over his face in both, frustration and a sense of excitement at the game of cat and mouse the two of you played.

But today, he decided to be bold, to make his intentions clear so that if you rejected him again, he'd know to stop trying. 

So he booked a private room. 

Unlike the rest of the club, this room has soft lighting. City lights stretch beyond the windows like an endless ocean, and a…couch is lined against the wall.

Well, it looks like a couch, but it could also pass for a bed with how big it is. Hiromi readjusts for what feels like the millionth time as he sits on it, and just when he’s about to get up and start pacing, the door swings open. 

And there you are.

You’re wearing a silken robe, hair loose around your shoulders, and you step into the room with a lot more calmness than he feels. 

Your eyes meet, and there's no deniability this time. You were looking at him. 

“Hi.”

His voice barely works. “Hello.”

You close the door. The lock clicks, and his breath leaves in a whoosh. 

“I wasn't sure you'd come.”

An airy laugh graces his ears. “Of course, I would. I like to get to know my regulars.”

The tension in his shoulders eases a little, and he allows a laugh to slip past too. 

“I come enough to be considered a regular?”

You don't answer. Only offer him a sexy smirk that disarms him and sets his hackles up all at once. 

“And you are…” You get to the couch, one leg folding under you as you take a seat. 

“Hiromi Higuruma.” Then, because he can't help himself, he holds his hand out for you to shake. 

You barely miss a beat when you put your hand in his, soft and lithe as his thumb unconsciously traces over the back of it. 

He inclines his head at you. “Is this the part where you finally tell me your name?”

“You know my name.” He’s already shaking his head before you finish talking. 

“Your stage name.”

“Still mine.” Your eyes crinkle at the corners, and it could be a sign of you being playful, or it could be discomfort and since he doesn't know you well enough to discern which is which, he lets it go. 

For now, anyway. 

When the silence stretches long enough, you stand up and walk to the audio system. A loud click echoes, then soft music fills the room. Turning around, your hands find the knot of your robe, then look up at him. 

“Do you want me on the pole or would you like a lap dance?”

He didn’t even notice it at first. Glancing to the other end of the room, the dark coloured pole blends with the rest of the skyline and as tempting as it would be to see you on it for the hundredth time, he thinks he wants something new.

Higuruma doesn't trust himself to talk, so he simply pats his thigh. The action is half timid, but with how your eyes blaze, he can tell you liked it.  

You get closer, and he slinks back to give you more room. But you don’t immediately straddle his lap. No, you turn your back to him and put your hands on either side of him, lowering yourself until your ass is inches from his thighs.

Your body sways, scent clouding his space, and he has to keep himself from leaning into you. Most of all, he has to keep his hands to himself. 

They clutch at the rough material of the couch under him when you finally sit in his lap, and you shuffle until your back presses against his chest. 

A soft sigh sends goosebumps along your neck, and you glance back at him, hair framing your face and making shadowy figures fall over it. 

Your eyes are all he can focus on now. He knows you took your robe off somewhere in between, but whatever you’re wearing right now is hardly as dizzying as meeting your gaze head-on. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know.” 

In private rooms, there’s a lot more leniency than on the main floor.

Hiromi nods. “I know the rules allow it.” He pauses when you shift on his lap. “Just don’t know if you’d want me to.”

You stand up, and he thinks he said something wrong. But then you’re climbing back into his lap, fully straddling him now. 

“I want you to.”

He stills. Low-lidded eyes track up to yours, and as if he’s moving too slow, your hands reach for his.

You set them down on your thighs, and they instinctively squeeze around the soft flesh. 

“There you go.”

The praise has his cock stirring, and when he tries to pull away so you don’t notice, you’re there again. The smell of burnt cherry perfume and clean shampoo fill his nose. You lean in closer, until the tip of your nose gently bumps against his, and he inhales deeply.

“Please tell me your name,” he whispers, a breath away from your lips. “I’ll do anything.”

He hears you hum softly then you bite your lip as you look him over. 

“Anything?”

A small nod.

Soft hands reach for him, and he sighs as they roam over his body. Teasing, coaxing, searching.

Then you get to his pocket and pluck out his wallet. Your movements slow as you do this. Not because of uncertainty, but more so, leaving room for him to stop you if he truly wanted to. You fish out a couple bills, and you must think it’s too much because you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Take it.” His voice is rough. Gravel against hardwood.

The wallet is discarded somewhere on the couch, and he’s not sure where you put the money you just took. Only that you lean into him and your lips skim over the shell of his ear. 

You say one word. A name. And he shudders like he was just touched by a live wire. 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. 

You don’t pull away fully once you’ve told him, and when his lips part to thank you, you slot your mouth over his. 

You’re not sure what came over you.

On the rare occasion you accepted a call to a private room, you never did more than a cheeky lap dance. Yet here you were, struggling to keep yourself up as the man under you placed a sweet kiss over your clit. 

“Sit on it,” he commands as you hover inches from his face. Shaking with the effort not to put all your weight on him.

To see the man who's been watching you with hungry appraisal in his eyes up close has your heart thrashing wildly in your chest.

It is difficult to not notice the suit-clad man whenever he comes by. Not only because he sat front and centre every time, but he kept his dark eyes on you like he wanted to toss you over his shoulder and take you away from here. 

Short of doing just that, Higuruma asked you to sit on his face instead. Pleaded really. And you started to laugh because you thought he was joking—only to cut off into a less-than-refined snort when you realised he was being dead serious. 

Hands that trembled moments ago became steadier the longer he touched you, as if it grounded him. So when you nodded at his question, deft fingers reached around you, unclasping your bra and slowly peeling the straps off your shoulders.

He moved to hook his fingers into your panties next. Lowering himself to his knees so he could roll them down the length of your legs. 

Once you were bare, Higuruma just stared at you. It was a little unnerving how long he did it. Still kneeling at your feet and looking up at you as if you were some kind of altar he'd happily shackle himself to. Offering devotion, surrender, worship, whatever you wanted as long as you stayed like this before him.  

Slowly, he rose to his feet, taking you in his strong arms as he did so. 

Hiromi lay on the couch, and you crawled up the length of his body with the help of his hands guiding you. He was still fully clothed, a sight that felt you both aggravated and excited to find out what he was hiding underneath. 

Which brings you to the present.

You must be moving too slow for him because he gently cups your thighs. Hooked nose bumping against your clit and sliding between your folds as he inhales your scent.

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he groans against you. Low and pitiful as his breath fans over your cunt. Your hips pitch, but you make no move to lower yourself. “Let me taste you.” 

Your lips part when you see the slimy trail of your arousal coating his nose. Low-set eyes lift to your face, peering up at you. 

“Please.”

That word was your kryptonite because when he pulls you closer again, you let him. 

The first lick he delivers has your breath leaving you in a loud gasp, but clearly not loud enough because he hauls you further onto his mouth, smothering himself in your pussy. He hums unintelligibly under you, fat tongue lolling out to lap at every drop of slick that dribbles onto it. 

“Higuruma,” you force out when he parts his lips and slurps the pearly nub of your clit into his mouth. A wet pop sounds as he releases it.

“Hiromi,” he corrects.

And that’s the last time he comes up for air.

Hiromi lets you bear all your weight onto him, and his hands latch around your waist as if he wants more. Muffled moans are hummed into your cunt, vibrations only adding to your pleasure and making your vision blur.

Until then you hear the soft clink of a belt unbuckling and a zipper opening which have you willing your eyes back into focus. One look over your shoulder has you closer to the edge in a matter of seconds. 

Higuruma pulls his cock from his briefs and starts bopping his hand over it in long, hard strokes. His hips rut, veins on his hands bulging as he fists it until precum wells at the tip. It beads white, leaking thickly only to be smeared over the rest of his length.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan as his tongue thrusts into your cunt, and you jerk so hard you would've been thrown off balance if you didn't weave a hand into his hair.

The dark brown strands tickle your palm as you use it for leverage, and when you sharply tug as an orgasm crashes into you, he grunts—falling over the edge right behind you. The warm spray of his cum over your lower back has you needily rolling your hips, trying to drag out the last dregs of your release as long as you could. 

And it's only when he makes a choked sound that you immediately lift off him. 

“Shit, sorry.”

Your skin was warm all over, but your cheeks feel a little hotter than everything else. The man merely smiles.

“Don’t be. That was amazing.”

Your smile is a little sheepish as he sits up.

Higuruma starts to undress. The white-collar shirt is undone one button at a time, opening to reveal his broad chest. Hard muscles stand rigidly under his tan skin, but you have a feeling it's soft to the touch.

So you reach out to confirm, and thick pectorals quiver under your palm. You were right.

He kicks his leather shoes off and steps out of his slacks. The couch sinks under his weight, and he reaches for you again. Warm hands find your waist as he comes up behind you, and you moan, instinctively lowering yourself on all fours. 

His cock nudges up and down your slit, and your breath catches. 

“You want this?”

You hum in response, ass inching back, and it seems that’s all he needed. Hiromi pushes into you, and you grunt against the achy stretch of your walls struggling to accommodate him. The girth of his cock has you trembling and he slowly surges forward, hips angling to bottom out. 

Your body tenses, and he forces himself to pause. 

“Too much?” he asks softly. You shake your head.

Not enough.

Higuruma does tease you. Doesn't edge you or try to make you beg for more. 

No, he just holds you down and fucks you like he’s been possessed.

Both of his hands smack onto your ass, pawing at the flesh, then spreading so he can see his cock disappearing inside of you. He groans at the creamy white ring that forms around his base as he pumps into you, juices mixing to make an obscene mess that connects you to each other.  

“Fucking beautiful,” he whispers, mostly to himself, but it still has you clenching around him. “I've been thinking about this for so long.”

The deep craving in his voice as he says that has your body tipping forward into the fluffy cushions, but he makes no move to pull you up. The man just plants a heavy hand on your back, making you arch deep as his thrusts become quicker and harder.

You’re already writhing, but when his free hand snakes around you, finding your clit with practised ease, your body goes stock-still. Sensation explodes, and with your cheek plastered to the pillows, the best orgasm you've ever had racks through you. So hard and fast it almost hurts.

Gummy walls spasm around him, and he chokes on one of the huskily deep groans pouring out of his mouth. His thrusts turn messy, uncontrolled, and the arm around your waist draws you up towards him. 

Your back meets his chest, head tipping back to lull onto his wide shoulder. His fingers never leave your clit, and your ass rocks back against him, grinding down onto his pelvis as overstimulation makes you delirious. 

“One more. Please,” he huffs against your dewy skin, and your head bops in frantic nods.

“Cum inside.” You demand.

Sex made you crazy. Clearly. 

And apparently, the madness was spreading because a soft whine that sounds nothing like him escapes. His hand around your waist skates up to your jaw, turning your head and slanting his mouth over yours in a sloppy kiss.

Hiromi only manages two hard thrusts, teeth nipping at your lip in an effort to stay quiet. Then you’re cumming together. Cursed groans panted against each other’s lips, and shaking long after the last shocks of pleasure run through you. 

Higuruma draws you into his arms, touch soothing as he pulls you into his lap.

Hands turn soft once more as they trace over your skin, and he keeps you there until you both catch your breath and the mind-numbing haze of sex subsides. 

Your head rests in the crook of his neck, and it's only when you feel yourself becoming sleepy– and a little too comfortable– that you pull away from him. 

“I should get back,” you inform him once your eyes meet, and he nods, warm embrace melting away when he lets go. 

“Right, sorry.”

You forgo putting the bra and panties back on and opt to shrug on the long discarded robe instead. You’d need a quick shower before getting back to work.

Cash in hand, you’re fumbling with the robe’s knot when Higuruma calls out to you. 

God, did your name always sound that sexy?

Your eyes lift to his, and he moves to sit at the edge of the couch. 

“Can I see you again?”

He always saw you. What he truly wanted was another chance to see you, like this. Some desperately pathetic hope inside even believed he might get lucky one day. That you may give him your number. And that maybe a fleeting hookup in the shadowy backrooms of a strip club could spark something real.

Fuck, he hoped it would. 

A radiant smile graces your lips. “Of course.” 

Then with a flick of your hair as you turn on your heel, you’re gone. 

You didn't hate the idea of seeing him again, and Higuruma supposed that was as good a start as any. 

He’d take “of course” over a hard no any day. 

He could work with of course.

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He tumbles, folding in on himself as he falls onto the pavement with his cheek cracking hard against the concrete. The flowers he bought land beside him, and the bright pink and white brilliance of their petals wilt as a heavy boot steps on them.   

It takes everything in him to force his eyes up and focus on the figure before him—and past the all-black outfit, the baseball bat and the matching cap that cast a grim shadow over his assailant’s features, he sees them.

Sees you.

Caleb croaks your name, too many emotions to count colouring his tone. Anger, shock, confusion and fear.

You meet his gaze, staring at him unblinkingly for a few long seconds before you offer a smile that makes all the hairs on his body stand up straight. Hackles rising like a fearful housecat in the face of a deranged hellhound that wanted to devour it whole. 

The careful emptiness in your eyes, paired with that lopsided grin, is the last thing he remembers before the edges of his vision darkened. 

—

Coming to, he isn’t sure how long it has been, only that the pain in his head hasn’t eased in the slightest. It lolls forward, chin bopping against his chest, as he groans.

All his muscles are screaming at him, and as he tries to stretch to loosen the ache, his eyes snap open when he realises he can’t move. 

Placed in the centre of a room so small it resembled an elevator, Caleb sits on a rickety wooden chair so uncomfortable it makes him squirm. He is bound in a length of thick rope that runs all around his form. It ties his hands together behind his back and loops around his torso, running all the way down to keep his legs clasped together. 

It wasn’t a dream.

His heart sinks, struggling against the restraints even though the knots looked like nothing could unravel them. Every time he moves, the coarse rope digs into his skin, leaving deep red grooves along it. Despite this, Caleb didn’t stop trying to break loose.

Especially when he realises that he still doesn’t have a grasp on his evol.

It feels like it’s just out of reach. A kite caught in the wind, floating higher and higher as, for the first time in his life, gravity works against him. Your evol settles over him in a sickly hum, latched on as tightly as possible and making sure he doesn’t have a second to break away from its influence.

Just as he feels the ropes start to cut into his skin, the mechanisms of the heavy metal door work, turning open with a creak that has him sitting upright. 

You step into the “room”, tray of food in hand, and when the smell makes his belly rumble, he wonders how long you have kept him here. There are no windows, so he has no way of knowing.

“Oh, you’re up.” Your tone remains flat, but your jaw is tense as you avoid meeting Caleb’s eyes. Way too casual for someone who just kidnapped him. Caleb hesitantly says your name while you cross the room, barely suppressing the tightness in your chest.

You set the tray down with a little more force than necessary, hands trembling slightly as you unwrap a straw and jab it into a large chocolate shake. “You won’t believe the line I had to stand in at the restaurant.” You force a laugh that sounds nothing like your real one. “And it’s a weekday, so why the hell was it that long?”

A packet of fries is taken out the bag as you continue, “I’ll be honest, I would’ve left if I didn’t know how much you like their food.” Your voice quietens, drifting as if you have too much on your mind and aren’t sure what to focus on. “Wait, you do still like the club sandwich, right?” Uncertainty thins your voice. “Oh my god, I should have asked—”

You whirl around when he yells your name, babbles abruptly cutting off as you stare at him like he’s the crazy one here.

“What the hell is this?!”

You blink a couple times, then your brows furrow in confusion.

“The sandwich? Well, it has cheese, bacon and—”

“I’m not talking about the fucking sandwich!” Caleb’s voice is so loud it hurts his own ears, but you merely tip your head at him. 

"You knock me out in the middle of the street, drag me to this dungeon, and now you think you can just come in here and offer me food as if nothing’s wrong?" Your face slackens at the question. You clutch the brown paper bag a little tighter, its paper ruffling in your grip.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“And you thought this was the way to go about it? Have you lost your mind?” The corner of your mouth scrunches. The only reaction you he sees before you turn to give him your back and keep taking out food.

“You were always good at that. Calling me crazy as if you’ve done nothing to make me this way.”

Caleb scoffs, wrists twisted in the tight confines that had no give whatsoever. “Don’t try to blame your actions on me. There’s nothing that could justify you kidnapping me!”

A blur of movement has him ducking, and a second later, he hears a loud, wet-sounding smack as the chocolate milkshake hits the wall behind him, and falls to the floor.

Plum eyes widen so far they resemble the very fruit as Caleb stares at you and small splatters of the shake land on his back. You’re panting now, calm facade cracking as a small scowl mars your face. He didn’t notice that there was a knife on the tray, but now he has no choice but to acknowledge it as you point it at him accusingly. Sharp metal tip gleaming with a threat.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” He tries to lean away when you inch forward. “It’s fine when you do it, but god forbid anyone else does.”

You’re talking about when he kept Eamsi at his apartment for a couple of days. But that was for her own good, and he didn’t tie her up in a basement. It was different. 

“We were together for four years, and you dumped me over text.” Caleb doesn’t dare to speak when you stop in front of him. “Then you made me seem psychotic when I rightfully tried to reach out and ask why.”

He stiffens, and the threat of the knife is long forgotten as his scowl matches yours. Reaching out was one way to put it. You flooded his phone with calls every other hour. Showed up at his house, at his job and every other place you knew he frequented. 

“You were stalking me.”

“That’s bullshit. I wanted an explanation. I was owed one.” Your voice is so shrill, so piercing, he thinks he might have paused a little too long between blinks and missed you driving the blade between his ribs. But you only drop your hand to your side. “You didn’t even have the decency to end it face-to-face, Caleb.”

You don’t even give him time to respond as you start pacing. Words so sharp they rivalled the serrated edge of the knife’s blade.

“And just when I was starting to move on, do you know what pops up on my feed? A video of you proposing to the very same woman you told me not worry about.”

You blink back the tears that threatened to spill over, eyes narrowing as a split second of sadness gives way to anger. Caleb squirms again, and he could be wrong, but he swears the ropes loosen the smallest bit.

“You even bought her the ring I told you I liked. Who the hell does that?” You’re waving the knife around now, body trembling with barely controlled rage, and Caleb is smart enough to know that he has to tread carefully.

He knows you weren’t entirely wrong. Apart from the holding him hostage bit, he can admit that he was kind of an asshole in how he chose to end things. At first, he told himself that he did it that way to spare you, so you wouldn’t be stuck with someone who didn’t love you the way you did him. But the truth was that he did it to spare himself. The moment he got a sliver of hope that his childhood crush liked him back, he couldn’t break up with you fast enough. 

Beyond elated when they started dating, less than a week later, he would stop at nothing to keep his brand-new girlfriend happy. So, at her arched brow after seeing your name pop up on the caller ID, he blocked and deleted your number without another word. 

In what seemed to occur overnight, Caleb went from being head over heels for you to avoiding you like the plague. And he was relieved when he heard nothing from you for a long while. For someone who passingly admitted to slashing every item of clothing and furniture of a cheating ex-boyfriend, you were handling the situation a lot better than he expected. He thought himself lucky. But as you teased the knife under his chin, forcing it to crane up and letting the blade’s tip prick his skin, he realised just how naïve he was.

It seems your method of catharsis has just evolved.

“I’m supposed to what, sit back like a fool and watch you give her everything I begged you for? Watch you end up happier than ever after humiliating me in front of everyone?” 

Caleb swallows, and the action breaks skin, letting a small drop of blood trickle down the length of it. Your name is a rasped plea on his lips, and your eyes glitter with dark satisfaction at how desperate he sounds.

You were painfully familiar with desperation. Now he knows how it felt when he cast you aside like hot garbage.

“Let’s just calm down, alright? We can talk about this.” Now he wants to talk? You snicker, and his gaze steadily stays on your face–even as you inch his head up higher and skate the knife’s edge against velvety softness.

You tilt your head, eyes searching his face for something you don't seem to find when you eventually shake your head.

“No.”

Caleb’s body seizes when the carnivorous force of your evol eats away at him. It’s not only cutting off his power anymore, but there's an impending sense of dread as he feels his heartbeat slowing within his chest.

“You need to choose.”  Caleb realises he was wrong. He hadn’t found a snag in the restraints that bound him; he found a snare. And the more he moved, the tighter it became. His body freezes, and the ice-cold bite only thaws when you place a warm palm to his cheek.

“You can choose to not be with me anymore,” Your words elicit a broken gasp through his lips. His chest is on fire, and he feels frighteningly lightheaded. Like if he rests his eyes too long, they may never open again. There was no way your evol was this strong. Something was wrong.

While your smile barely reaches your eyes, there’s a distinct reflection of glee in them as you take stock of his breath becoming shallower with each passing second. You lean closer to him, fresh huffs of air tickling over his lips, and his nostrils flare, inhaling deeply in hopes of gathering more into his lungs.

“But then you can’t be with her—or anyone else. Ever.” 

The harsh light from the overhead lamp casts a heavy gloom across the room and highlights your silhouette with its strange orange glow. Caleb’s mind tricks him into thinking he sees shadowy protrusions of devil’s horns curling up and outward between the strands of your hair. Stocky and far sharper than the blade, catching along the column of his throat. With the picture of malice in human form before him, it sinks in that you have decided that today was his day of reckoning. A dark angel, patient and pragmatic, even as you emitted cruelty through eyes that used to shine with nothing but unwavering adoration.

Then you say the word that steals the last dregs of air from him. 

“Choose.”

a/n: ….dont ask I needed to get that out.

With everything else he had going for him, the fact that he sounded like that was just unfair.

You believe the man’s name is Suguru…you aren’t completely sure because you were too busy gawking to pay attention to anything he was saying when he introduced himself. 

Admittedly, when the woman at the front desk asked if you would be okay with a male masseuse, you were not expecting this. Him.

He was—god. He was hot.

Tall. Long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his skull. Sharp jawed with even sharper eyes; seemingly purple when the sun hit them just right. His peculiar eyes matched the colour of his uniform, and although it was loose-fitting, you could still make out the shape of lean muscle underneath.

A murmur of your name brings you back to the present, and remembering he asked you a question, you nod.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” He hums, and you swear you feel it between your legs.

God, maybe you were ovulating or something.

The towel is pulled down to the small of your back, and you shift as cool air feathers over your skin.

“Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”

You merely shake your head, not trusting what would come out of your mouth if you tried to answer him.

“Anything you want me to focus on?” 

Your thoughts immediately veer into whorish territory that has you shaking your head as if to physically expel them. 

Suguru moves around the room and a match strikes as he presumably lights another candle.

It takes a while to find your voice again, “My back and shoulders, if you don’t mind.”

A chuckle filters through the room. Deep and amused and sexy as all get out, “Of course not. It’s my job after all.”

You flush at the reminder and hear him move closer. The tips of his shoes come into view as he stops beside the bed.

“Let me know when you want to stop.”

That’s the only warning you get before his hands are on you. Work-worn and skilful, he lathers fragrant oil over your skin and works it deep into your pores. 

For a few minutes, his hands are tentative. Slow and studious as he notes your reactions to each touch and stows them away for later use.

He listens to the sigh that leaves your lips when he massages your shoulders. The groan when he works down the length of your back and the stifled giggle when he traces his fingertips along your ribs. Then once he has enough marked down, he grows more sure of himself. He maps out every curve and contour of your skin with kneads and rubs that have your eyes threatening to roll back. Knowing exactly when to ease up, when to be firmer and apply pressure and where to press and hold until you grunt in relief.

Whatever tension that tightened your body loosens under his touch. And you’re sure you’d leave as nothing more than a satisfied puddle by the time he was done.

The massage is steadily lulling you to sleep. But just when your eyes start to flutter shut, he moves to massage your legs. You blink when he pulls them apart, fingers pressing past soft flesh to smooth out all the knots underneath. Suguru skates up the soles of your feet, past your calves and the backs of your knees, then higher, higher until he gets to your thighs.

Your body stiffens again, and he must feel it because he stills for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You try to give him an affirmative hum, but you’re shaking, and a particularly hard quake wracks through you when his hands move to your inner thighs.

He pauses when you don’t answer, and you have to clear your throat to get rid of the lump that attempts to form.

“I’m fine,” you say. While your voice comes out a little thin, you think you sounded convincing enough. 

You really hope you did.

“Good,” he answers and you allow a small sigh to leave you, “I’m going to move to your glutes now.”

Wait what? 

The sheet is pulled up over your ass, and you have no time to react or dwell on the cold because his warm palms immediately land on your skin. Both chasing and leaving more goosebumps in their wake. 

Something sparks low in your belly with each squeeze that’s delivered to the plush flesh. A small ember at first, then the longer he goes on, the more the ache builds. Slowly, it seeps between your legs in a fiery hot rush that has your panties clinging to you.

You feel Suguru's fingers catch along the lace, and your breath hitches.

“Is this pressure okay?”

Your nod is all he needs to work with newfound vigour. Moving between massaging your thighs, your ass and your hips until you can't even stop yourself from squirming anymore.

Heat blooms across your cheeks when he pauses, and you want the ground to swallow you whole because you know he sees it.

The desperation. The want. Possibly even the slick dampness of your ruined panties.

Embarrassment has you whispering an apology even as nerves bubble deep in your stomach, each pop so loud, you're sure he can hear it. But when you try to press your legs together, he stops you.

“Physiological responses are natural, you don’t need to apologise,” he says so gently, it makes you feel even worse. 

Whatever he was getting paid definitely wasn't enough to be dealing with clients like you.

Your chest expands with a deep breath as you try to make yourself calm down through sheer force of will.  You’re slowly coming back into yourself when his murmured question sets you off balance again.

“Would you like me to keep going?”

Something about the way he asks that is odd.

It lacks the professional lilt that all his earlier questions had as he assessed your discomfort. 

This time, it was low. Sensual. And hedged between a purr that would’ve made your thighs squeeze if he wasn't still holding them apart.

You take a moment to gather yourself, then you lift your head towards him, just barely. And yes, the moment you see the look on his face, you know for sure he isn't just talking about the massage.

Suguru’s eyes are dark as they drag over your face. Slow, patiently appraising and hungry as he takes in the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your plump lips. His pupils are blown so wide that only a small circle of violet remains.  

His head tilts in silent question, and you swallow as more heat spurs. Your chin dips in a small nod, and he shakes his head.  

“I need to hear you say it,” He demands in that sexy, soft-spoken rumble. “Out loud.”

You force out a breath and with it, throw your pride aside like it was weighing on you.

“Keep going,” you say. He merely arches a dark brow at you– as if waiting for more. It takes you a hot minute to figure out what it is, but once you do, you whisper the word bulldozes the last flimsy pillar of professionalism branched between the two of you: “Please?”

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles. Monolid eyes shape into small crescents that are a little too sharp at the edges.  Tipping with something dark. Like he's held back long enough, and your go-ahead is all he needed for the mask to crack.

It makes the hairs on your arms stand.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into?  

​

​

You still weren't sure, but you were in too deep to stop now.

You're sat on the edge of the bed, towel and panties long discarded, and your legs spread wide. 

The man between them holds you open, eyes crudely assessing as he stares down the apex of your thighs.

“What do you need?” he asks as his fingers stroke over trembling flesh. You don't answer right away, and eyes flicker up to yours. “I’m here for your pleasure, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

The words make your heart kicks little harder, and you feel yourself get wetter. Thighs slick with arousal and dripping down to the sheets below. He watches it all happen of course, but doesn’t rush you to answer.

“Your fingers.” You voiced quietly, and he hums low in the back of his throat. Gripping your skin a little harder.

“Want them inside this pretty pussy?” If he took too long, you were sure you’d cum from his voice alone. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait. Middle and ring fingers brush over your clit. Featherlight, but enough to make it twitch in need anyway. 

Your hips buck and before you can do something crazy like beg him, he promptly slides both digits into your cunt. The sound that comes out of your mouth makes you slap a hand over it, and he chuckles like he finds the reaction cute.

“You don't have to worry about staying quiet. The walls here are so thick they're practically soundproof.” You don't move fast enough, so he drives his fingers deeper into you as if trying to force the sounds out. You whine against your palm, and he brings his thumb down to work on your clit, “Let me hear you.”

Your hand falls. 

A moan cracks into the air, mingling with the sharp hiss that escapes him.

“Ah, there you go,” he kneels, and you think a part of you dies.

His head sinks between your thighs, tongue peeking out to drag a lavish lick up your slit that makes you shudder. Suguru groans against your pussy. Feral, desperate and deep enough that it vibrates through you in dizzying shockwaves. Then his mouth is everywhere, eating you out like it had no purpose before this. And free hand cupping your ass to bring you in impossibly closer.

His lithe fingers swirl despite your walls clenching tight around them. Moving as if they were looking for something.

You realise too late what it is. 

Only he curls them just right, and they find purchase against a spot that has your hand gripping his hair, trying to push him off.

You know what you felt like when you were about to cum, and this wasn’t that. This was too sleek, too intense to be a normal orgasm, but even when you try to warn the man, he doesn't let up.

“Can feel it,” He rasps after releasing your clit with a wet pop, “Give it to me.”

“I—fuck, wait,” Your trembling thighs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you see him lift his mouth long enough to watch the burst of clear liquid that gushes from you. 

Your lips gape at the sight but he merely goes back and licks up every drop, mouth relentless– almost punishing–while incoherent sobs that vaguely sound like his name leave your mouth.

Your eyes are teary by the time he pulls back with his chin and lips glistening.

“That’s one,” he whispers, and you freeze, because why did he say that like there were a lot more to come? 

While trepidation makes your skin prickle, your pussy, ever the traitorous whore, twitches needily. Already rearing to go again. 

Suguru cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, messy enough to make blood rush up your neck. He rolls his tongue around yours, flicking it as he did with your clit, making you taste yourself on him.

You hear the rasp of fabric as he moves between your legs, sliding his pants off but when you try to glance down, his hold on your neck tightens.

“Don't,” a few strands of his hair came loose and they brush over his forehead when he shakes his head, “You’ll panic if you look.”

The implication behind that statement, makes you pause. He thought you’d panic if you looked at his cock?

Just how big was he? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.” he waits until you nod before he covers your body with his, lining the flared tip of his length against your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

You have less than an inch seated inside when the girth makes you claw at his shirt.

“Oh,” you huff. Surprise colouring your tone. “I see why you told me not to look.”

His hips pause with your pained hiss. “Too much?”

“Yes,” your legs wrap around his waist. “Don't stop.”

He groans like you wounded him and sinks deeper, cock stretching you wide enough to make you stop breathing altogether.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, but you can’t. Every time you try it's like trying to inhale underwater. It’s too heavy and so suffocating all that comes out is a choked moan. 

Suguru’s fingers apply pressure to the sides of your throat, gently massaging. 

“Breathe,” he says again, broad chest rising then falling, silently encouraging you to match the pattern. His eyes go dark when you comply, sweet sighs fanning over his mouth, copying his. “Good girl.”

He rears back to take his shirt off and you’re graced with tanned skin and sculpted muscle that distracts you long enough to let him deeper. 

Your nails rake down his back once he’s on you again. Cuttingly sharp whereas his touches are soft as he smooths his hands over your skin, coaxing out all the tension that has you wound up. 

Each caress is torturous and deliberate. Shaping over your hips and squeezing your breasts until a mewl echoes. 

“Feels so good,” he breathes, then kisses you again.

It's devastatingly disarming, and he knows it, because when your body relaxes under him, he wastes no time in driving forward and burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, and he catches the curve of it with his hand, pulling you against him.

“I know,  baby,” his jaw is clenched tight. Hips rutting so his pelvic bone rolls onto your clit. You wind your legs around him tighter and the massage table whines under your combined weight. “Fuck, stretching so tight around me.”

You know you're being loud when he starts moving. At first, you didn't trust him when he said the walls were thick but right now you don't seem to care.

“So full,” you mumble against his mouth, and he grunts, delivering a brutal thrust that jostles you both.

“Yeah? Where do you feel it, hm?” his palm reaches for your stomach, flattening over the small bulge his cock leaves every time he pumps into you. “Right here?”

All you manage are frantic nods, and he slides his hand down to grind the heel into your clit. Your body tries to buck, but he's so close you can't do more than shiver. 

You're wringing his cock dry. Swallowing every inch and squeezing until his balls draw up. They slap against your ass, messy and loud with your slick, only to get drowned out by your panicked gasp.

“I’m close,” you warn, and he nods in response, pace turning desperate as he chases his own high.

The once comforting blend of scents filtering through the air makes your head swirl.

“Cum with me,” he demands, and there's not a lot you can do to hold off any longer. Pleasure hooks into your spine, and Suguru holds you against his body. The tremors shaking you pass into him and back again.

His grip on your hip is bruising as he spills rope after rope of his cum as deep as he can go, shuddering with his release and letting out breathless moans and gasps that almost send you off the edge again.

Cum spills down your thighs when he pulls out, and he's pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he says, and hell, he doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body feels heavy against the bed when he walks away. Water trickles then he’s back again. You can’t lift your head to make sure but you feel the heat of him. And the heat of the cloth that's dragged between your legs as he cleans you with practised ease. When you flinch, still tender and sensitive he only coos and kisses your knee.

Suguru lifts you and readjusts your position on the massage bed, making sure you’re comfortable before draping the towel over your torso again.

“I don't have an appointment for another hour,” he informs you and your lashes flutter, eyes bleary and drawing low with sleep. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple minutes.”

You manage a small nod while he shuffles through the room.

It takes a little longer for him to return, but when he does his uniform is back on. Unwrinkled and neat. Hair without as much as a strand out of place.

He touches you again, massaging your shoulders in slow circles that have you drifting closer to dreamland and continues the treatment as if nothing had happened, lazily working his hands over your limp body.

“Finally relaxed.” He hums his approval when you soften under his touch, tracing his fingers over your sternum.

Yeah, definitely coming back next month. You think.

Though next week was probably closer to the truth. 

art by @/aransmind

🏷️: @rambld, @liahcharms, @sugusplaything, @indom-tus, @ehcilhc, @magicalpeenpoo, @mieleism, @maxxthefan, @kingraspberry12-blog, @21-princess, @shannonigans1029, @pjselee, @trilxogyyy, @megumour, @tojisgdgirl, @aweslurp, @whatthehellybronjames, @bokenessa, @moonlight-jasmine7, @fruitypatootie, @voxxsstuff, @b-bitter, @ryomensukunasoneandonlywife

suguru tags: @pixiebaby1, @sconesandtea, @sistersofthemoon15, @paniniani, @nanalalovely, @raendarkfaerie, @seraphemerally, @blueglitterwalet, @akkiveslvt, @marisblog6733, @sluttyangel04, @mysticweepings, @sindulgent666, @shinobu-sama012, @lover4art, @sonotkiki

join the taglist here!

With everything else he had going for him, the fact that he sounded like that was just unfair.

You believe the man’s name is Suguru…you aren’t completely sure because you were too busy gawking to pay attention to anything he was saying when he introduced himself. 

Admittedly, when the woman at the front desk asked if you would be okay with a male masseuse, you were not expecting this. Him.

He was—god. He was hot.

Tall. Long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his skull. Sharp jawed with even sharper eyes; seemingly purple when the sun hit them just right. His peculiar eyes matched the colour of his uniform, and although it was loose-fitting, you could still make out the shape of lean muscle underneath.

A murmur of your name brings you back to the present, and remembering he asked you a question, you nod.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” He hums, and you swear you feel it between your legs.

God, maybe you were ovulating or something.

The towel is pulled down to the small of your back, and you shift as cool air feathers over your skin.

“Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”

You merely shake your head, not trusting what would come out of your mouth if you tried to answer him.

“Anything you want me to focus on?” 

Your thoughts immediately veer into whorish territory that has you shaking your head as if to physically expel them. 

Suguru moves around the room and a match strikes as he presumably lights another candle.

It takes a while to find your voice again, “My back and shoulders, if you don’t mind.”

A chuckle filters through the room. Deep and amused and sexy as all get out, “Of course not. It’s my job after all.”

You flush at the reminder and hear him move closer. The tips of his shoes come into view as he stops beside the bed.

“Let me know when you want to stop.”

That’s the only warning you get before his hands are on you. Work-worn and skilful, he lathers fragrant oil over your skin and works it deep into your pores. 

For a few minutes, his hands are tentative. Slow and studious as he notes your reactions to each touch and stows them away for later use.

He listens to the sigh that leaves your lips when he massages your shoulders. The groan when he works down the length of your back and the stifled giggle when he traces his fingertips along your ribs. Then once he has enough marked down, he grows more sure of himself. He maps out every curve and contour of your skin with kneads and rubs that have your eyes threatening to roll back. Knowing exactly when to ease up, when to be firmer and apply pressure and where to press and hold until you grunt in relief.

Whatever tension that tightened your body loosens under his touch. And you’re sure you’d leave as nothing more than a satisfied puddle by the time he was done.

The massage is steadily lulling you to sleep. But just when your eyes start to flutter shut, he moves to massage your legs. You blink when he pulls them apart, fingers pressing past soft flesh to smooth out all the knots underneath. Suguru skates up the soles of your feet, past your calves and the backs of your knees, then higher, higher until he gets to your thighs.

Your body stiffens again, and he must feel it because he stills for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You try to give him an affirmative hum, but you’re shaking, and a particularly hard quake wracks through you when his hands move to your inner thighs.

He pauses when you don’t answer, and you have to clear your throat to get rid of the lump that attempts to form.

“I’m fine,” you say. While your voice comes out a little thin, you think you sounded convincing enough. 

You really hope you did.

“Good,” he answers and you allow a small sigh to leave you, “I’m going to move to your glutes now.”

Wait what? 

The sheet is pulled up over your ass, and you have no time to react or dwell on the cold because his warm palms immediately land on your skin. Both chasing and leaving more goosebumps in their wake. 

Something sparks low in your belly with each squeeze that’s delivered to the plush flesh. A small ember at first, then the longer he goes on, the more the ache builds. Slowly, it seeps between your legs in a fiery hot rush that has your panties clinging to you.

You feel Suguru's fingers catch along the lace, and your breath hitches.

“Is this pressure okay?”

Your nod is all he needs to work with newfound vigour. Moving between massaging your thighs, your ass and your hips until you can't even stop yourself from squirming anymore.

Heat blooms across your cheeks when he pauses, and you want the ground to swallow you whole because you know he sees it.

The desperation. The want. Possibly even the slick dampness of your ruined panties.

Embarrassment has you whispering an apology even as nerves bubble deep in your stomach, each pop so loud, you're sure he can hear it. But when you try to press your legs together, he stops you.

“Physiological responses are natural, you don’t need to apologise,” he says so gently, it makes you feel even worse. 

Whatever he was getting paid definitely wasn't enough to be dealing with clients like you.

Your chest expands with a deep breath as you try to make yourself calm down through sheer force of will.  You’re slowly coming back into yourself when his murmured question sets you off balance again.

“Would you like me to keep going?”

Something about the way he asks that is odd.

It lacks the professional lilt that all his earlier questions had as he assessed your discomfort. 

This time, it was low. Sensual. And hedged between a purr that would’ve made your thighs squeeze if he wasn't still holding them apart.

You take a moment to gather yourself, then you lift your head towards him, just barely. And yes, the moment you see the look on his face, you know for sure he isn't just talking about the massage.

Suguru’s eyes are dark as they drag over your face. Slow, patiently appraising and hungry as he takes in the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your plump lips. His pupils are blown so wide that only a small circle of violet remains.  

His head tilts in silent question, and you swallow as more heat spurs. Your chin dips in a small nod, and he shakes his head.  

“I need to hear you say it,” He demands in that sexy, soft-spoken rumble. “Out loud.”

You force out a breath and with it, throw your pride aside like it was weighing on you.

“Keep going,” you say. He merely arches a dark brow at you– as if waiting for more. It takes you a hot minute to figure out what it is, but once you do, you whisper the word bulldozes the last flimsy pillar of professionalism branched between the two of you: “Please?”

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles. Monolid eyes shape into small crescents that are a little too sharp at the edges.  Tipping with something dark. Like he's held back long enough, and your go-ahead is all he needed for the mask to crack.

It makes the hairs on your arms stand.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into?  

​

​

You still weren't sure, but you were in too deep to stop now.

You're sat on the edge of the bed, towel and panties long discarded, and your legs spread wide. 

The man between them holds you open, eyes crudely assessing as he stares down the apex of your thighs.

“What do you need?” he asks as his fingers stroke over trembling flesh. You don't answer right away, and eyes flicker up to yours. “I’m here for your pleasure, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

The words make your heart kicks little harder, and you feel yourself get wetter. Thighs slick with arousal and dripping down to the sheets below. He watches it all happen of course, but doesn’t rush you to answer.

“Your fingers.” You voiced quietly, and he hums low in the back of his throat. Gripping your skin a little harder.

“Want them inside this pretty pussy?” If he took too long, you were sure you’d cum from his voice alone. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait. Middle and ring fingers brush over your clit. Featherlight, but enough to make it twitch in need anyway. 

Your hips buck and before you can do something crazy like beg him, he promptly slides both digits into your cunt. The sound that comes out of your mouth makes you slap a hand over it, and he chuckles like he finds the reaction cute.

“You don't have to worry about staying quiet. The walls here are so thick they're practically soundproof.” You don't move fast enough, so he drives his fingers deeper into you as if trying to force the sounds out. You whine against your palm, and he brings his thumb down to work on your clit, “Let me hear you.”

Your hand falls. 

A moan cracks into the air, mingling with the sharp hiss that escapes him.

“Ah, there you go,” he kneels, and you think a part of you dies.

His head sinks between your thighs, tongue peeking out to drag a lavish lick up your slit that makes you shudder. Suguru groans against your pussy. Feral, desperate and deep enough that it vibrates through you in dizzying shockwaves. Then his mouth is everywhere, eating you out like it had no purpose before this. And free hand cupping your ass to bring you in impossibly closer.

His lithe fingers swirl despite your walls clenching tight around them. Moving as if they were looking for something.

You realise too late what it is. 

Only he curls them just right, and they find purchase against a spot that has your hand gripping his hair, trying to push him off.

You know what you felt like when you were about to cum, and this wasn’t that. This was too sleek, too intense to be a normal orgasm, but even when you try to warn the man, he doesn't let up.

“Can feel it,” He rasps after releasing your clit with a wet pop, “Give it to me.”

“I—fuck, wait,” Your trembling thighs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you see him lift his mouth long enough to watch the burst of clear liquid that gushes from you. 

Your lips gape at the sight but he merely goes back and licks up every drop, mouth relentless– almost punishing–while incoherent sobs that vaguely sound like his name leave your mouth.

Your eyes are teary by the time he pulls back with his chin and lips glistening.

“That’s one,” he whispers, and you freeze, because why did he say that like there were a lot more to come? 

While trepidation makes your skin prickle, your pussy, ever the traitorous whore, twitches needily. Already rearing to go again. 

Suguru cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, messy enough to make blood rush up your neck. He rolls his tongue around yours, flicking it as he did with your clit, making you taste yourself on him.

You hear the rasp of fabric as he moves between your legs, sliding his pants off but when you try to glance down, his hold on your neck tightens.

“Don't,” a few strands of his hair came loose and they brush over his forehead when he shakes his head, “You’ll panic if you look.”

The implication behind that statement, makes you pause. He thought you’d panic if you looked at his cock?

Just how big was he? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.” he waits until you nod before he covers your body with his, lining the flared tip of his length against your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

You have less than an inch seated inside when the girth makes you claw at his shirt.

“Oh,” you huff. Surprise colouring your tone. “I see why you told me not to look.”

His hips pause with your pained hiss. “Too much?”

“Yes,” your legs wrap around his waist. “Don't stop.”

He groans like you wounded him and sinks deeper, cock stretching you wide enough to make you stop breathing altogether.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, but you can’t. Every time you try it's like trying to inhale underwater. It’s too heavy and so suffocating all that comes out is a choked moan. 

Suguru’s fingers apply pressure to the sides of your throat, gently massaging. 

“Breathe,” he says again, broad chest rising then falling, silently encouraging you to match the pattern. His eyes go dark when you comply, sweet sighs fanning over his mouth, copying his. “Good girl.”

He rears back to take his shirt off and you’re graced with tanned skin and sculpted muscle that distracts you long enough to let him deeper. 

Your nails rake down his back once he’s on you again. Cuttingly sharp whereas his touches are soft as he smooths his hands over your skin, coaxing out all the tension that has you wound up. 

Each caress is torturous and deliberate. Shaping over your hips and squeezing your breasts until a mewl echoes. 

“Feels so good,” he breathes, then kisses you again.

It's devastatingly disarming, and he knows it, because when your body relaxes under him, he wastes no time in driving forward and burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, and he catches the curve of it with his hand, pulling you against him.

“I know,  baby,” his jaw is clenched tight. Hips rutting so his pelvic bone rolls onto your clit. You wind your legs around him tighter and the massage table whines under your combined weight. “Fuck, stretching so tight around me.”

You know you're being loud when he starts moving. At first, you didn't trust him when he said the walls were thick but right now you don't seem to care.

“So full,” you mumble against his mouth, and he grunts, delivering a brutal thrust that jostles you both.

“Yeah? Where do you feel it, hm?” his palm reaches for your stomach, flattening over the small bulge his cock leaves every time he pumps into you. “Right here?”

All you manage are frantic nods, and he slides his hand down to grind the heel into your clit. Your body tries to buck, but he's so close you can't do more than shiver. 

You're wringing his cock dry. Swallowing every inch and squeezing until his balls draw up. They slap against your ass, messy and loud with your slick, only to get drowned out by your panicked gasp.

“I’m close,” you warn, and he nods in response, pace turning desperate as he chases his own high.

The once comforting blend of scents filtering through the air makes your head swirl.

“Cum with me,” he demands, and there's not a lot you can do to hold off any longer. Pleasure hooks into your spine, and Suguru holds you against his body. The tremors shaking you pass into him and back again.

His grip on your hip is bruising as he spills rope after rope of his cum as deep as he can go, shuddering with his release and letting out breathless moans and gasps that almost send you off the edge again.

Cum spills down your thighs when he pulls out, and he's pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he says, and hell, he doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body feels heavy against the bed when he walks away. Water trickles then he’s back again. You can’t lift your head to make sure but you feel the heat of him. And the heat of the cloth that's dragged between your legs as he cleans you with practised ease. When you flinch, still tender and sensitive he only coos and kisses your knee.

Suguru lifts you and readjusts your position on the massage bed, making sure you’re comfortable before draping the towel over your torso again.

“I don't have an appointment for another hour,” he informs you and your lashes flutter, eyes bleary and drawing low with sleep. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple minutes.”

You manage a small nod while he shuffles through the room.

It takes a little longer for him to return, but when he does his uniform is back on. Unwrinkled and neat. Hair without as much as a strand out of place.

He touches you again, massaging your shoulders in slow circles that have you drifting closer to dreamland and continues the treatment as if nothing had happened, lazily working his hands over your limp body.

“Finally relaxed.” He hums his approval when you soften under his touch, tracing his fingers over your sternum.

Yeah, definitely coming back next month. You think.

Though next week was probably closer to the truth. 

art by @/aransmind

🏷️: @rambld, @liahcharms, @sugusplaything, @indom-tus, @ehcilhc, @magicalpeenpoo, @mieleism, @maxxthefan, @kingraspberry12-blog, @21-princess, @shannonigans1029, @pjselee, @trilxogyyy, @megumour, @tojisgdgirl, @aweslurp, @whatthehellybronjames, @bokenessa, @moonlight-jasmine7, @fruitypatootie, @voxxsstuff, @b-bitter, @ryomensukunasoneandonlywife

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Some men would go to the forest late afternoon, solely to come back the next morning, long before the first crowing of the cock. With dreamy eyes veiled by a mist and minds completly blank, as if the night creatures of the woods sucked their memories away.  

They would reckon some bits and snippets of nightly wander, with cold wind brushing their cheeks and hazy visions of a woman's voice pulling them towards the weird-looking hut. But they could never remember the details, and thus the forest witch was nothing but a tale creeping through the creaky windows of the wooden houses.

The villagers stayed away from the woods, and children were forbidden from going near.

And everyone went by this silent rule.

Oh, well… almost everyone.

For two lumberjacks, Toji Fushiguro and Sukuna Ryomen, could not care less about the trumped-up fable.

Two massive, burly men – the biggest in the village, truly, and the only ones providing the thick timber logs.

It was not that other husbands didn’t dare to dive into the woods, but rather… well, there was just too much harvest, and every pair of strong hands was needed. At least that was the thought that allowed them to sleep serenely.

Without risking their lives, without the danger of meeting spectral creatures and chicken-legged huts.

But Toji and Sukuna have only believed in things they could see. Touch, experience, remember in detail. That was why the tale of a forest hag sounded to them both rather foolish, almost made up.

Did their mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers warn them about the dangers of the forest?

Surely.

But even as nippers, they couldn’t keep their prying eyes away from the thick greens, with one tree spookier than the other. 

Thus, now, at the age of thirty-five, they still didn’t care about all the rumours going around. And the daily occurrence of villagers tucking tightly inside their houses after the last beams of sun left the earth was quite amusing.

Fools, they have thought, while going back and forth between the forest and a village every single day.

Until, well… until one day they saw a hut.

The dusk has fallen quietly over the golden fields, with a deep purple blanket covering the sky. Nothing but a faint glimmer of stars crept through the dense trees, and both men found themselves rather lost.

They had never gone that deep into the woods, but the need for logs was higher around that time as the summer solstice was just around the corner. And with the planned celebrations, grand feast and fire jumping, they would need much more timber than usual.

It was not that they couldn’t find their way out, but all the looming trees started to resemble eerie creatures. With branches curling restlessly behind their backs, as if trying to brush two foolish souls passing through the enchanted woods. The lethargic melody of crickets was long gone, leaving the forest in a deathly silence.

Nightly wind brushed their dust-covered shirts, bringing a gentle shiver down their spines.

Was it caused by a cold?

Or maybe by a deep, dread feeling of someone, something, lurking behind the gnarled branches?

They walked farther and farther, thinking that they were getting closer to the familiar fields of the village. Thinking that the little pond they passed every day was right behind the next tree, with slimy frogs humming on the cold stones. That soon they would notice a golden glimpse of not-yet-sickled wheat and wooden houses filled with candled warmth.

Their backs burned from all the gathered logs, and eyes tried to see through the thick darkness filling the forest air. Not even stars could help them, and for the first time in their lives, a bizarre thought had crossed their mind.

That maybe they could have listened to all the cautionary tales about the dangers of the woods. 

That the trees were truly unpredictable and wicked, with their sharp needles poking their skins.

That a faint meow stretching between the softwoods was a bad omen.

"Did you hear it?" Sukuna murmured, stopping in tracks. 

Toji furrowed, finger gripping the saw firmer. "Was that a fucking cat?"

They stood in place, listening carefully for another sign that some normal, living creature was wandering somewhere around.

Another soft meow sent a shiver down their spines.

"Why would a cat be here?" Sukuna murmured, going towards the source.

Whether it was a foolish decision or not, they would need to find out on their own.

As the cat could mean two things – firstly, another village somewhere nearby and a place where they could spend the night. 

Secondly…

"You know why," Toji murmured, with all the warnings his grandmother had stuffed into his head suddenly lighting up.

Sukuna scoffed, looking over his shoulder. "Don’t tell me you’re scared."

"Fuck no."

But why would the cat be here? He wanted to add.

They moved slowly, with the muffled meows growing clearer and higher-pitched, but none of them noticed a feline slipping between the branches. 

They walked for another five, ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and even glimmering stars looked down at their sweating backs with a silent frown. Wandering that deep into the forest could not finish well.

But then, something appeared.

A hut.

Tall and looming, resembling something straight out of those delirious tales they loved to ignore that much. Spreading an eerie atmosphere, with a cold air biting much harsher than before. 

It stood in the middle of the woods, having a skull–topped fence surrounding it in a neat circle and a black cat sitting lazily on one of the milky heads. Wet earth dipped under the big, thick claws of a long chicken leg, made of nothing but skin and bones.

At its top sat a small house. Made of dark wood, with smooth walls and a crooked roof pinned rather messily. 

Both men furrowed their brows, seeing no doors nor windows, although grey mist loomed over the bended chimney.

A cat meowed, a raven croaked, and the woods came even closer, as if inviting them in and slowly covering all the paths with their thick branches.

"Yeah, I’m not doing it," Toji murmured.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes gazed at the wicked hut before a sight slipped away. "Fuck no."

They needed a single glance to turn around on their feet and walk away. As far as they could, till the endless plains of woods would let them out.

Because, at some point, they would find the right path. Probably.

Thus they walked, and walked, and walked till their legs were burning and faint meowing was left far behind. The trees never changed, bending and curling above their heads like spider’s webs, with leaves and needles dropping onto their shoulders.

The air was biting frost, although summer had almost come, and carried a lingering taste of rottenness.

At some point, they finally saw a faint glow. Pale glimmer, drawing from between the dense trees. A rise of hope bubbled in their chests, with fingers gripping the saws and legs suddenly moving much faster. 

They finally found it – an exit from this wicked forest.

With crows following their every step and darkness sharpening its teeth to swallow them whole. 

Little stones rolled beneath their feet, cheeks bled from the curled branches slashing through their skin, backs dipped under the weight of carried logs, but then they took the one last step and–

And found themselves back in the hut.

The faint glow they had chased was just a moonlight bouncing off the skull fence. The cat was still there, with yellow eyes glancing at them rather cheekily – as if the feline knew that both men were already done for.

Grey smoke still curled around the chimney, but this time it was much denser. Thicker, and it seemed that someone must’ve been inside this little, wooden house. 

"Dear God," Toji murmured, taking a deep breath. "How is it possible?"

Sukuna’s brows furrowed, crimson eyes slashing with the cat’s amused gaze. "I don’t know, but we need to keep moving."

"Where? We walked for twenty minutes and did a fucking circle."

They didn’t dare to walk past the skull-topped fence and thus stood still at the edge of the forest. Trees behind them chanted wickedly, tickling the backs of their sweating necks.

"You’re right, okay, let’s try that way," Sukuna pointed out at another path. "Maybe we will find a neighbouring village."

So they did just that.

And when their eyes caught a sinister hut again, towering over the looming trees, they both cursed under their breaths.  

Each path they took always led them straight towards the skull-topped fence, and after the fourth time, they finally crossed its border. They walked past the creamy heads and purring feline before standing by the bony chicken leg.

Everything looked like a nightmare – the hut, the fence, the moonlight shining on their wet foreheads and a cat, slowly sitting up. 

Like a fever dream they couldn’t wake up from, and every little detail of the tales whispered by the villagers suddenly flooded their minds.

They didn’t want to end up as the blasphemous hag’s sweet little treats. With their bones licked clean and dumped down the endless pit of her basement. 

If they wanted to get out of the forest before sunrise, they needed to act quickly.

"Let’s cut this down," Toji suddenly rolled, leaving Sukuna speechless.

"You mean, the leg?"

The man nodded, with scarred lips curving up. "If we’re going to die anyway, why not get her first? If she’s as old as everyone says, killing her would surely be a piece of cake."

A silence stretched between them, as if both Sukuna and a black cat and a big crow, that had sat quietly on the fence, were trying to process what he just said. 

"You want to murder an old lady?"

Toji scoffed. "Don’t look at me like that. She’s a witch!"

"But she’s also a…" Sukuna wanted to say a human, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

Was she a human?

Or maybe a spawn of the devil, a satab itself?

Toji gripped an axe tighter, poking the bony leg with the wooden end. It was rather thin, and he wondered how such a fragile thing could hold a whole hut. 

A spell?

"Why won’t we just cut it down first and see whether she’s there?" Sukuna murmured, lifting his axe.

"And if she’ll be there, we will…"

Sukuna tsked. "Let’s see first. Maybe, if we ask nicely, a hag will let us go. Maybe she’s not even that bad as people say."

None of them believed it, and creamy skulls sitting quietly on long bones should be evidence enough.

They both raised axes – with muscular forearms bulging under the muscles and eyes glued to the thin ankle of the chicken’s leg. It was steady, with long claws gripping the earth and yellow skin pulsing under the spilling moonlight.

And the moment their arms had swung, something hit them.

No, something has burst at their faces, and only then have they noticed a row of puffballs. With white caps breaking under their heavy shoes and powdery clouds erupting right into their noses.

But it seemed they weren’t just normal mushrooms, as the world in front of the men’s eyes started to swirl. Gaze slipped into fogginess, and lungs filled with a bitter powder. It burned their throats, chests, pushing sharp needles into their hearts, till both fell to their knees. 

They cat meowed softly in the back, the crow hummed, and the moonlight could only glance down pitifully at two lumberjacks slowly sacking out.

𖤐 𖤐 𖤐

When Sukuna slowly opened his eyes, something heavy lay sprawled on his chest. Warm and purring, with black fur floating around his lips and soft paws brushing his nose. 

The cat, the same one they saw just a while ago, sat down right above his heart, with yellow eyes glued to his slowly waking up face.

His mind was still a bit dizzy, and the bitter aftertaste of mushrooms swirled on his tongue, sticking to each and every corner of his throat. There was something soft under his body, although, surprisingly, he noticed that he lay shirtless.

And as it turned out, Toji was undressed too.

Spread right next to him, with hands lifted high up and wrists tied to a… bed frame?

Fuck, slipped silently, as he realised that his wrists were tied too. Strong enough not to rip the smooth fabric, but soft enough not to hurt his skin. 

"What is this place?" Toji murmured, only now waking up from a deep slumber.

Sukuna couldn’t see anything because of the fluffy beast purring on his chest, but Toji…

"Fucking hell," he whispered, feeling his heart flutter.

Sukun turned head his way, seeing the emerald eyes of his friend glued to something in front of them.

Someone, maybe. 

You.

A witch.

Your back was covered by a velvet, purple robe, brushing the wooden floor. Wide sleeves hung from your wrists, moving like clouds with every gentle swoosh of your hand. Toji couldn’t see much of your face, but only its profile – soft and kind, with plump lips murmuring something under your breath and hair hugging your cheeks. 

The inside of the hut was much larger than they had thought, and surely you must’ve used a kind of special spell. Rows and rows of books lay messily on shelves, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. A massive, brass cauldron stood right next to you on the low wooden table, with eerie greenish mist floating above the bubbling water. 

It looked warm, rather cosy, filled with the gentle crackling of candles and their yellow glow lighting up your furrowed brows.

When Sukuna sneezed, feeling the fur tickling his nose, you turned their way.

"Oh my," slipped in melody, and Toji held his breath. Your face was even more beautiful than he had thought, with beaming eyes curving in a gentle smile. "Apologies, mister. Lucifer, go away, let him breathe," you shooed the cat, before sitting at the end of the bed.

And then Sukuna could finally see you – an angel.

Or rather, a witch, as the legends said.

But your countenance looked nothing like the tales forsweared, as Sukuna’s breath hitched upon seeing a glimmer dancing behind your eyes. So soft and kind. Plush lips twisted in a smile, and when his gaze slipped down, something in his lower body moved.

Toji couldn’t see it before, but the purple robe flowing down your figure was much more flimsy than he had thought. With your soft collarbones gleaming under the candle’s light, and barely covered chest. They could clearly see the swell of your breasts, with their heavy fat barely hidden behind the material. 

Fucking hell.

Maybe they wished you looked more like legends swore – a hundred-year-old hag with a crooked nose.

"Miss," Toji choked out, with a mouth dry as wheat. "I think there has been a misunderstanding."

Your head tilted, and eyes flashed with amusement. "A misunderstanding? Aren’t you the ones who mere minutes ago wanted to cut down my hut?"

Their lips fell flat. 

"And aren’t you the ones who wished to, hm, how was it…" slipped in a giggle, while a fat cat purred on your lap. "Kill an old lady?"

Both of them looked rather stupefied, and a sight of two burly men tied to your bed frame was quite pleasant. 

What’s more, you didn’t even try to hide your deep eyes wandering around their half-naked bodies. With heavy muscles beaming under the light coating of sweat, and palms big enough to crush your whole head. 

Their tall, massive bodies could barely fit on your bed, and a few spells needed to be used to make it a bit wider. Shocked, but oh so handsome, faces looked at you in disbelief, and you felt their eyes slipping between the swell of your breasts and plush lips curving mischievously.

"Have you heard it?" Sukuna asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Not me," you looked down at the black cat, petting its soft fur gently. "But Lucifer is my eyes and ears. You got lost, from what he said. No one ever told you not to wander around the woods in the night?"

Your giggle tasted like an aphrodisiac, and both men shifted uncomfortably on the bed. 

"Listen, miss, how about we apologise and you’ll let us go, hm? Let’s forget about–"

"Well," you interrupted, slowly standing up. The cat jumped off your lap and strolled towards the fireplace, sitting his fat ass on the soft carpet. "I usually have two ways of dealing with men of your sort," your fingers lifted a little glass phial with pinkish fluid. "I either clear their memories and simply let them go–"

"Wonderful, let’s get to it," Toji murmured, but you sent him a quick, cheeky look.

Oh, so that was not a way destined for them.

"Or," quiet footsteps filled the hut, as you walked towards a big carpet spread on the floor. With a single move, you rolled aside to present small doors, leading to the… "I throw them here. But no woman has complained about you two and wished for a curse, so fear not, dear sirs. Or, Toji and Sukuna."

You covered the basement, leaving them both scared and breathless.

"What have you heard about me?" suddenly rolled, as you walked back to the cauldron. The green mist still floated over it, and you turned at the long shelf filled with colourful little phials. 

"You’re a witch," Toji muttered, trying to keep his eyes on the back of your head and not the way velvety robes hugged your hips.

You hummed with a smile. "Go on."

"That you kidnap children," Sukuna added, seeing your back tremble in laughter. "And eat their flesh with iron teeth."

"Oh, truly?" came with a melodic laugh they both felt right in their cocks. Some purple liquid was added to the mixture boiling in a cauldron, and the mist changed from green to red. "That’s my favourite one so far. Anything else?"

You glanced over your shoulder to see their creased foreheads. One covered with raven hair and the other with soft, pinkish strands. 

"The women seem to like you," Toji murmured, noticing a little smile beaming on your cheeks.

"Haven’t you noticed a sudden surge in child births?" When they nodded slowly, you continued. "Well, no need to thank me. I’m glad I could help. And it leads me to why I decided to tie you up."

You looked more closely into the boiling cauldron, a gentle crease appearing between your brows. 

"Are you going to kill us?" Sukuna finally choked out, and your eyes quickly came back to them. 

Silence stretched mercilessly as they watched you come closer. And closer, and closer, till the bed dipped under your plush body, slowly climbing up theirs. Your knees scratched their thighs, palms dipped into the small spaces between their heavy chests, and soon a sugary fragrance hit their minds.

Curling around them sweetly, almost suffocating with the tender hints of berries and flowers, beaming on your soft neck.

Your hips straddled each of their thigh and the purple robe curled around your hips, hugging the spilling fat. Looking at the flowing material, they were rather sure you didn’t wear any panties.

Something bulged under your thighs, and a little smirk crawled up your lips.

"I won’t," slipped cheekily. "But first, sirs, say ah."

They furrowed, but opened their lips up, and before either of them could react, your fingers landed inside their mouths. With a gentle touch swirling between their gums and milky fangs, as if examining every curve of them.

You hummed softly before pulling the fingers back and allowing them to cough.

"Miss, are you crazy?" Toji barked, but you ignored him.

"Healthy gums, straight teeth, that’s good, good," slipped in a murmur, before your fingers landed in their hair. A silent tsk followed, as you pulled out two single strands.

"Hey, missy, what the hell are you doing?" Sukuna growled, wriggling under your hips. 

It did him nor Toji no good, because their already hard cocks dugged into the fat of your thighs deeper, pushing out a low, strangled hum of their throats. And a soft giggle from yours.

With two soft curls, you slowly slipped off their hips, leaving both men with a quiet disappointment. 

"You see, lots of women come to my hut with a wish to bear a child," their hair landed inside the cauldron, and a red mist changed into purple. "For many, I’m just a scary witch, but women cherish me as… a forest goddess, you may say," you mixed the boiling mixture with a wooden spoon, and a soft that’s good, perfect slipped through. "Fulfilling their desires is rather easy, you see. A simple mixture is enough to bloom their fertility."

Both men tried to listen closely, but could only focus on how quickly your warmth had left their bodies. 

Quite unpleasant, slightly unfortunate.

Toji furrowed. "Miss, what does that have to do with us?"

"I also want a child. No, I need to have a child to keep the lineage of witches," rolled softly, with your voice slipping into something warmer. "That’s what my mother did. And her mother, sisters, aunts, and every woman in my family. All of them chose a man healthy like a horse, the most potent one in the entire village."

Oh.

Something bubbled in their chest. A sudden warmth, a wave of electricity washed over their bodies, as both Sukuna and Toji looked at your blessed face with round eyes.

For a while, nothing but the cat’s soft purring and the soft crackling of the fireplace filled the hut. A deep silence, marked by unbearable tension. Your lips fell in line, forehead wrinkled with a coiling thought.

Toji coughed. "So we–"

"Yes," you quickly added. "You are the most perfect for this role."

And the rest played out faster than they expected.

The misty, purple robes suddenly fell off your shoulders, fully unveiling your divine body. With perked nipples licked warmly by a candle’s flame and a plush belly, their teeth already itched to dip into. You started to move – slowly, with thighs jiggling gently and lips curving in a mischievous smile.

"You can refuse, of course," slipped in a bewitching sweetness, curling around their lips and minds and already leaking cocks.

Refuse? They would be fools to refuse a woman like you.

"If you wish, I shall clear your minds and simply let you go. I'm sure, at some point, my path would cross with yet another potent men," the mattress dipped under your weight as you, once again, started crawling up their bodies.

Your words creased their foreheads.

Another men?

"But if you decide to stay–"

Their breaths hitched, feeling the sweetness of your breath hit their cheeks.

Something wicked coiled behind your pupils – arousing, suffocating them with the lustfulness of your gaze. You looked into Sukuna’s crimson eyes before your lips touched the corner of his. Shortly, softly, slowly moving to the next man and gently licking the pale scar slashing his maw. 

"If you stay, you’ll need to be my obedient husbands. And give me lots and lots of witches," you whispered, waiting quietly for an answer. With your cunt dripping down their clothed thighs and their cocks shifting under your body. 

They stared at you – with crimson and emerald eyes sparkling in feary madness.

Oh, so you truly were a witch, for their minds suddenly filled with a flaming need to obey your wicked request. The sweet fragrance of your naked skin wrapped around their senses like a poison. A spell, maybe, and they wondered whether you truly cast a sort of devilish charm.

To mould them as you wished, bending and pushing their minds over the edge with nothing but sweet little whispers. And trickery eyes, cherry lips, heavy breasts just waiting to be fondled and, dear god, your cunt brushing against their thighs.

"What do you say?" You whispered, before placing palms on their cheeks. "Do you wish to go back to your village? Or maybe fill me up like good boys, hm? Today is my most fertile night, so it should go quite easily."

"Untie us," Sukuna whispered, with eyes not leaving your face even for a second. 

Toji kissed the inside of your palm softly, with emerald eyes looking at your warming face. "Come on, baby, untie us. If you want to have a baby, let’s make one, hm?"

With a single snap of your fingers, their wrists fell. 

And then, oh well… you truly were a wicked and powerful witch.

But still a rather foolish, stupid young girl, who knew nothing about men.

About lustful, foxy, much older and stronger men, who you accidentally aroused in a most maddened way.

Your belly hit the mattress before you even knew it, and big palms lifted your drenched hips.

"Wait–" you choked and tried to lift your chest, but a heavy palm landed between your shoulders. 

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna rolled, leaning towards you. Warm lips curled around your earlobe before moving to the back of your neck, and shoulders and liquid spine. "Let your husbands take good care of you."

Drenched folds of your cunt met with Toji’s calloused fingers, before he spread them open. A sudden warmth hit your core, and he took a long and nasty sniff of your dripping wet.

"Baby, you smell so fucking sweet," rolled in a groan, before Sukuna joined him. 

His finger brushed your hole, scooping up a few sticky strings of juices. He licked it clean, with a low hum filling the hut. "Fuck, the best meal I’ve ever had. Arch a bit more, sugar, and spread yourself open."

His hand pushed you into the mattress even harsher, till breath knocked out of your chest. 

"Just like that, baby," Toji hummed with a sly smile, bending his lips upon hearing your teary gasp. "You’re doing so well already, hm? So fucking wet."

There was no need to ask, for both of them knew that you were a virgin. It was quite obvious, with your hole fluttering shyly, drenching their digits in gluey saps of cum. Juices trickled down your thighs, dripped onto the mattress, and Toji bent over to lick your skin clean. 

His tongue warmed the inside of your thighs, the mound of ass, before he finally spread your cheeks wider, and you felt the plush muscle on your warmth.

"A-Ah–" fell in a pitched moan, as you wriggled under Sukuna’s hand.

He leaned closer, brushing away single strands of hair from your cheeks. One of his palms still lay heavily between your shoulders, pushing you against the mattress, while the other started to fiddle with his trousers.

"Have you ever sucked a dick, sugar?" He cooed warmly, but mischievous flames danced behind his crimson eyes. When your head shook, he chuckled. "Of course not, such a sweet little witch. Though you really know how to fire up a man."

Another moan slipped between your lips when Toji’s tongue landed on your clit. Curling, pushing, and abusing the plump spot, making your toes curl in pleasure. Another wave of honeyed cum flowed from your cunt, and he drank it hungrily, growling in delight over the sticky cum dripping down his throat. 

"Fuck, baby, if that’s how you pussy tastes, you can use me all you want," he groaned, brushing his clothed cock against your foot. His finger slipped in, and before you could scream, Sukuna’s lips quickly crashed against yours. "Another men, you must be fucking joking. Although you really set the bar high, thinking you can take two cocks at once," he pushed it further, feeling your walls clasp his digit. "So fucking tight."

"Don’t worry, little witch," Sukuna mumbled, fisting his cock with one hand. "We’ll try not to tear you open. I’m sure Toji will stretch your sweet cunt enough to fit us both, hm?"

But seeing the veiny, massive thing sitting in his hand – you weren’t quite sure.

And only then have you realised that maybe you underestimated both of them. Thinking that using them to get pregnant would be smooth and easy, and after a mere few minutes, you would simply send them back to the village.

The whole husbands thing was just a foolish play, but, as it turned out, your silly plan has missed a few rather important details that.

Firstly, both Toji and Sukuna were massive. Muscular wasn’t the right word to describe their ripped bodies, with backs broad like mountains and heavy forearms manhandling you in the most toe-curling way. Two beasts, with necks thick as logs and rolling shoulders that could easily lift you without a sweat.

They cast a shadow over your trembling body, and Sukuna needed just a single hand to overpower you fully. 

You didn’t feel the unbearable air they’ve spread around each other until you foolishly untied them. 

It wrapped around your neck, weighted on your chest, with their hands and lips and brutal force slowly opening you up in the most pleasurable way.

With Sukuna’s fat cock pushing through your wet lips and Toji’s fingers keeping your hips in place.

"Come on, little witch, open up. Give me a good lick," Sukuna’s hand travelled from your back up, resting on head. Fingers gripped your hair gently, but not forcefully. No, after all, he wanted you to take him willingly – to swirl this wicked tongue around his leaking cock and get drunk on precum. "That’s a good girl, mhm, don’t bite it, you’re doing so well."

His words somehow tickled your mind, and you choked on his cock even further. Salty precum glued to your throat and veins scratched the roof of your mouth. His musky, manly smell pushed out yet another wave of honeyed juices of your cunt, and Toji drank them with a low hum. 

When the second finger joined in, you jolted, trying to move hips away.

"Ah ah, baby, there’s no running," Toji chuckled, feeling your fluttering walls hardly swallowing his fingers. "Fucking hell, at this rate you won’t take even a single cock."

His lips curled around your clit, sucking the plump bud with delighted growls and sending low tremors straight to your cunt. His heavy tongue feasted on your sweetness as if starved, with fingers slowly working you open and abusing a single, plush spot relentlessly.

"How do you feel, sugar? What does it feel like to have your pussy eaten out for the first time–fuck," Sukuna cursed, feeling your throat clench around his pulsing cock. "You look so fucking ethereal, hell, the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry, I won’t cum inside your throat. I’m keeping it warm and safe for your sweet cunt."

You couldn’t stand it.

Their dirty words, warm fingers caressing your body with gentle strokes, all the buttons they somehow knew how to push to turn you into a miserable, whimpering mess. With crystal droplets swirling in the corners of your eyes and a pleasure washing over your spine each time Toji sucked on your clit.

When his fingers bent again, you cried. Pitifully, like an angel, sending a tremble straight to Sukuna’s cock. 

He moved, sitting right in front of you, letting your lips drop down even further, till the feverish head of his cock hit the back of your throat. Your fingers dug into his massive thighs, and saliva dripped down his balls. 

"Fuck, so good sugar, you’re doing so well," he warmly cheered you on, taking a hefty fist of your hair. "Suck on the head. Yeah, just like that, try to hollow your cheeks, take me deeper," when his head hit your back wall again, you started coughing. He quickly lifted you, brushing away a few dropping tears. Heavy hand squeezed your cheeks, pushing out swollen lips. "My little witch, where’s all the courage from before, hm? You really have no idea what you asked for."

You didn’t say anything, as his lips soon crashed against yours. In a sloppy kiss, with tongue swirling inside your mouth and a long stripe of spit dripping down your chin.

Oh, he was starving to feel that sweet cunt of yours tear around his cock. To feel your warm walls clasp around his shaft and soft moans fill the sizzling inside of the hut.

The heat coming off the fireplace mixed with your heavy breaths, sweating bodies and gluey fluids sticking to your skin. From the outside, they couldn’t see the windows, but now a soft gleam of moonlight crept through the foggy glass, smooching your wet cheeks with a cold light.

Toji’s heavy hand smacked your hips, and he finally pulled off. A sweet string connected his lips to your stretched cunt, and he gave it one last, long and filthy lick, leaving your thighs trembling.

"Let’s try, baby," he mumbled, still oogling the way your drenched hole flapped around nothing. As if desperately needed to swallow something into its desperate clutches. "Sukuna, turn her over. It’s time to stuff our little witch."

They treated you like a rag doll, and you felt no different. Soon, your back hit Sukuna’s chest, and Toji’s hands landed under your thighs, folding you easily like a leaf – with cunt spread open and more of fertile juices coating your folds.

Sukuna’s hands reached to your perked buds, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers. Maybe it was to send another wave of pleasure down your spine.

But, maybe, he wanted you to focus on something other than Toji taking out his massive cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sukuna’s fat shaft came right from below, smooching your drenched hole in warm, gentle kisses.

"It’s okay, sugar," he murmured into your ear, turning your head away. Fingers pinched your nipple, and another soft moan rolled through, making their hearts swell in ecstasy. "Don’t look there, just focus on me."

Your brows furrowed, and pleasure-blinded eyes tried to trace back, but his heavy hand kept your chin in place. "W-What is it?"

Toji chuckled, seeing your cunt already trying to swallow up their leaking heads. But would you be able to take them both?

Fucking hell, he didn’t know.

"Deep breath, baby," he muttered, covering your trembling clit with his thumb. He rolled it softly, helping your walls loosen up. 

And then slowly, slowly, two massive cocks pushed through the tight ring of your muscles. 

The pain mixed with pleasure, and before a scream rolled from your throat, Toji quickly leaned over. His lips swallowed a sharp cry, and cock pushed even further. 

Sukuna’s fingers kneaded your tits, with fat spilling from between his fingers, while Toji’s thumb worked slowly on your clit. In slow, deep rolls, pinching and pushing the sweet little button that helped their cocks slide deeper. Meaner, smooching and brushing your clasping walls, with their muscles trying to push fat shafts out.

"Sugar, fucking hell, try to relax," Sukuna muttered, feeling his girth get crushed between Toji’s dick and your trembling walls. "You’re doing good, so fucking good, our little witch. Come on, you asked for it."

You did, and maybe that made the matter worse. Because you, in fact, didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.

Not entirely.

Well, not at all, truly.

As you didn’t expect your cunt to burn in such fever, with walls getting brutally stretched by two massive cocks. Their sweet coos made your brain all fuzzy, with sweet little nothings whispered in gentle voices. Hands brushed away strands of hair sticking to your wet cheeks, and fingers kneaded your body with a rough softness, solely to let them get drunk on your melodic moans.

"T-To much–mhmm–that’s too–"

"Shhh," Toji whispered, licking away your tears. "You’ll take it like a good girl. Remember, that’s what you asked for."

Your head shook, and another whimper slipped away when Sukuna’s fingers pinched your nipple. "It’s okay, sugar, just focus on the pleasure. Yeah, that’s good," his hand squeezed your tit, while Toji rolled your clit with his thumb. "Relax, just like that. Fuck, you’re still squeezing us so hard."

"Let us fill you up, baby," Toji cooed with a nasty thrust. Their cocks moved in harmony, with two leaking heads sinking deeper and deeper, till they finally brushed your plump spot and let another moan fill the foggy air. "Can’t wait to see you fat and heavy, just like you wanted," he kissed the corner of your lip, wet cheeks, creased forehead. "And we’ll take such good care of you and little brats. Don’t worry, baby, we’re not going to leave."

At first, you just planned to use them and send them away, but hearing their loving murmurs and hands pulling you closer between their bodies – it seemed that it was impossible.

For neither Sukuna nor Toji planned to leave this sweet little witch, with the most melodic giggle and pussy they were ready to die for.

And if they needed to tie you up not to clear their memories – fucking hell, they were more than eager to do it.

To pump you full during the day and keep you soft and warm at nights.

The pinching pain soon evolved into something sharper – more heavenly, heated, with nerves of your cunt finally sending ripples of ecstasy up to your curling feet.

And they saw it too – a gentle crease appearing on your forehead and eyes crossing in unbearable pleasure. Their lips curved in a sly smile, feeling your hips slowly moving with theirs. With cunt swallowing them deeper and short breaths evolving into pinched moans.

"How do you feel, sugar? How does it feel to have us right in your womb?" Sukuna licked a long stripe of your neck before digging his teeth into your skin. His hand slipped down, pushing a little pouch of your belly. 

You whimpered, feeling his fingers circle their cocks through the plump skin. "S-so good–nghhh–feels sooo good–ahhh."

Their thrusts became faster, harsher, with two plump heads slipping smoothly through your drenched cunt. Soft crackling of a fireplace was soon muffled by filthy squelches coming from your sweating bodies, and crying moans rolling through your lips.

You felt sticky, feverish, bruised, with their cocks kissing your swelling womb and Toji’s body pressing you to Sukuna. He was heavy, with big palms digging into the back of your thighs and chest glued to yours.

"Fuck, baby, look at me," he whispered, and Sukuna squeezed your cheeks, lifting wet cheeks towards another man. "Oh, our sweet little witch, you look so fucked. Already drunk on our cocks, hm? Come on, baby, let’s make you cum."

Your clit burned under his thumb, swelling in overwhelming pleasure. Something warm started to coil in your belly. Although it might as well be their fat shafts sliding through your clenching cunt and bubbling precum at your womb. You could almost feel them in your lungs, heart, throat, and when both men suddenly sped up, something inside you burst. 

You could barely breathe, feeling Sukuna’s chest glued to your back and Toji’s arms curling around your bodies. His face nuzzled into the one side of your neck, while Sukuna dipped into the other, caging your senses with their musky, heavy scent. The one that made your body limp and dissolve into their touch.

Their cocks thrusted faster, meaner, sliding in and out in a messy pace and completly losing the harmony. Sukuna’s head caught on your entrance the moment Toji kissed your womb, and soon you became a crying mess, with lips swelling from their kisses and mind slowly driving away.

"I–I’m so close–mhmmm–gonna cum, I’m g-going to cum–ahhhh," one of your hands slipped into Toji’s hair, the other wandered back to grip Sukuna’s. "P-Please come inside, p-please please please, pump me full."

Something within them snapped, and soon their touch lost any sense of gentleness. No, it evolved into something much more lustful, maddened.

The need to see your body tremble beneath their fingers and feel the spasmatic clamps of your cunt. With honeyed sweet gushing out of your stuffed, reddened hole and walls still stretching under the swelling fatness of their cocks.

"Our pretty girl, milking us fucking dry, clamping on our cocks like a bitch in heat–ngh." Sukuna groaned into your neck, rolling your swollen nipples between his fingers. "Go on, sugar, cum for us, let us make you a mommy."

Emerald eyes caught your gaze, and soon a pair of warm lips crashed, for the hundredth time during this evening, in a messy kiss. "If I knew you ain’t old hag I would–ahh–knock you up sooner," his fingers pressed your clit for the last time, before both of their cocks nuzzled into your womb. 

The long-held warmth finally spilt all over your belly, sending heavy waves of pleasure through your body. Your cunt gushed out in sweet cum, drenching all three of you in liquid honey.

And when they came – you could feel it on your tongue. Fat ropes of cum, stuffing your cunt full till a few droplets spilt out from your swollen hole. Your lower belly rose, with their cocks still smooching your womb softly, coating it in thick, white spurts.

A moment had passed before Toji’s body fully lay down, and you almost fainted. Silence stretched pleasantly, with Sukuna’s fingers brushing away lost strands of your hair and Toji’s cheek lowering down to your chest.

Something pleasant, rather domestic, linked your hearts like a thread, and a long night has passed before you actually slipped away from between their sleeping bodies. 

And somewhere, during those long hours of their touches changing between the gentle caresses and harsh slaps, you decided that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t clean their memories.

That maybe keeping them close didn’t sound that bad.

Especially as they promised to give you a whole coven of little witches – oh!

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

I had so so much fun writing it! I really hope you enjoyed this little snippet of my local folklore, although the og story was a bit different...

I got a few requests for Hades!Sukuna so... I'll start working on Hades!Sukuna x Persephone!Reader fic <3

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With everything else he had going for him, the fact that he sounded like that was just unfair.

You believe the man’s name is Suguru…you aren’t completely sure because you were too busy gawking to pay attention to anything he was saying when he introduced himself. 

Admittedly, when the woman at the front desk asked if you would be okay with a male masseuse, you were not expecting this. Him.

He was—god. He was hot.

Tall. Long black hair pulled into a bun at the base of his skull. Sharp jawed with even sharper eyes; seemingly purple when the sun hit them just right. His peculiar eyes matched the colour of his uniform, and although it was loose-fitting, you could still make out the shape of lean muscle underneath.

A murmur of your name brings you back to the present, and remembering he asked you a question, you nod.

“Yes, I’m comfortable.”

“Good,” He hums, and you swear you feel it between your legs.

God, maybe you were ovulating or something.

The towel is pulled down to the small of your back, and you shift as cool air feathers over your skin.

“Are there any areas you want me to avoid?”

You merely shake your head, not trusting what would come out of your mouth if you tried to answer him.

“Anything you want me to focus on?” 

Your thoughts immediately veer into whorish territory that has you shaking your head as if to physically expel them. 

Suguru moves around the room and a match strikes as he presumably lights another candle.

It takes a while to find your voice again, “My back and shoulders, if you don’t mind.”

A chuckle filters through the room. Deep and amused and sexy as all get out, “Of course not. It’s my job after all.”

You flush at the reminder and hear him move closer. The tips of his shoes come into view as he stops beside the bed.

“Let me know when you want to stop.”

That’s the only warning you get before his hands are on you. Work-worn and skilful, he lathers fragrant oil over your skin and works it deep into your pores. 

For a few minutes, his hands are tentative. Slow and studious as he notes your reactions to each touch and stows them away for later use.

He listens to the sigh that leaves your lips when he massages your shoulders. The groan when he works down the length of your back and the stifled giggle when he traces his fingertips along your ribs. Then once he has enough marked down, he grows more sure of himself. He maps out every curve and contour of your skin with kneads and rubs that have your eyes threatening to roll back. Knowing exactly when to ease up, when to be firmer and apply pressure and where to press and hold until you grunt in relief.

Whatever tension that tightened your body loosens under his touch. And you’re sure you’d leave as nothing more than a satisfied puddle by the time he was done.

The massage is steadily lulling you to sleep. But just when your eyes start to flutter shut, he moves to massage your legs. You blink when he pulls them apart, fingers pressing past soft flesh to smooth out all the knots underneath. Suguru skates up the soles of your feet, past your calves and the backs of your knees, then higher, higher until he gets to your thighs.

Your body stiffens again, and he must feel it because he stills for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

You try to give him an affirmative hum, but you’re shaking, and a particularly hard quake wracks through you when his hands move to your inner thighs.

He pauses when you don’t answer, and you have to clear your throat to get rid of the lump that attempts to form.

“I’m fine,” you say. While your voice comes out a little thin, you think you sounded convincing enough. 

You really hope you did.

“Good,” he answers and you allow a small sigh to leave you, “I’m going to move to your glutes now.”

Wait what? 

The sheet is pulled up over your ass, and you have no time to react or dwell on the cold because his warm palms immediately land on your skin. Both chasing and leaving more goosebumps in their wake. 

Something sparks low in your belly with each squeeze that’s delivered to the plush flesh. A small ember at first, then the longer he goes on, the more the ache builds. Slowly, it seeps between your legs in a fiery hot rush that has your panties clinging to you.

You feel Suguru's fingers catch along the lace, and your breath hitches.

“Is this pressure okay?”

Your nod is all he needs to work with newfound vigour. Moving between massaging your thighs, your ass and your hips until you can't even stop yourself from squirming anymore.

Heat blooms across your cheeks when he pauses, and you want the ground to swallow you whole because you know he sees it.

The desperation. The want. Possibly even the slick dampness of your ruined panties.

Embarrassment has you whispering an apology even as nerves bubble deep in your stomach, each pop so loud, you're sure he can hear it. But when you try to press your legs together, he stops you.

“Physiological responses are natural, you don’t need to apologise,” he says so gently, it makes you feel even worse. 

Whatever he was getting paid definitely wasn't enough to be dealing with clients like you.

Your chest expands with a deep breath as you try to make yourself calm down through sheer force of will.  You’re slowly coming back into yourself when his murmured question sets you off balance again.

“Would you like me to keep going?”

Something about the way he asks that is odd.

It lacks the professional lilt that all his earlier questions had as he assessed your discomfort. 

This time, it was low. Sensual. And hedged between a purr that would’ve made your thighs squeeze if he wasn't still holding them apart.

You take a moment to gather yourself, then you lift your head towards him, just barely. And yes, the moment you see the look on his face, you know for sure he isn't just talking about the massage.

Suguru’s eyes are dark as they drag over your face. Slow, patiently appraising and hungry as he takes in the flush of your cheeks and the pout of your plump lips. His pupils are blown so wide that only a small circle of violet remains.  

His head tilts in silent question, and you swallow as more heat spurs. Your chin dips in a small nod, and he shakes his head.  

“I need to hear you say it,” He demands in that sexy, soft-spoken rumble. “Out loud.”

You force out a breath and with it, throw your pride aside like it was weighing on you.

“Keep going,” you say. He merely arches a dark brow at you– as if waiting for more. It takes you a hot minute to figure out what it is, but once you do, you whisper the word bulldozes the last flimsy pillar of professionalism branched between the two of you: “Please?”

A beat of silence.

Then he smiles. Monolid eyes shape into small crescents that are a little too sharp at the edges.  Tipping with something dark. Like he's held back long enough, and your go-ahead is all he needed for the mask to crack.

It makes the hairs on your arms stand.

What the fuck did you just get yourself into?  

​

​

You still weren't sure, but you were in too deep to stop now.

You're sat on the edge of the bed, towel and panties long discarded, and your legs spread wide. 

The man between them holds you open, eyes crudely assessing as he stares down the apex of your thighs.

“What do you need?” he asks as his fingers stroke over trembling flesh. You don't answer right away, and eyes flicker up to yours. “I’m here for your pleasure, sweetheart. Tell me what you need.”

The words make your heart kicks little harder, and you feel yourself get wetter. Thighs slick with arousal and dripping down to the sheets below. He watches it all happen of course, but doesn’t rush you to answer.

“Your fingers.” You voiced quietly, and he hums low in the back of his throat. Gripping your skin a little harder.

“Want them inside this pretty pussy?” If he took too long, you were sure you’d cum from his voice alone. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t make you wait. Middle and ring fingers brush over your clit. Featherlight, but enough to make it twitch in need anyway. 

Your hips buck and before you can do something crazy like beg him, he promptly slides both digits into your cunt. The sound that comes out of your mouth makes you slap a hand over it, and he chuckles like he finds the reaction cute.

“You don't have to worry about staying quiet. The walls here are so thick they're practically soundproof.” You don't move fast enough, so he drives his fingers deeper into you as if trying to force the sounds out. You whine against your palm, and he brings his thumb down to work on your clit, “Let me hear you.”

Your hand falls. 

A moan cracks into the air, mingling with the sharp hiss that escapes him.

“Ah, there you go,” he kneels, and you think a part of you dies.

His head sinks between your thighs, tongue peeking out to drag a lavish lick up your slit that makes you shudder. Suguru groans against your pussy. Feral, desperate and deep enough that it vibrates through you in dizzying shockwaves. Then his mouth is everywhere, eating you out like it had no purpose before this. And free hand cupping your ass to bring you in impossibly closer.

His lithe fingers swirl despite your walls clenching tight around them. Moving as if they were looking for something.

You realise too late what it is. 

Only he curls them just right, and they find purchase against a spot that has your hand gripping his hair, trying to push him off.

You know what you felt like when you were about to cum, and this wasn’t that. This was too sleek, too intense to be a normal orgasm, but even when you try to warn the man, he doesn't let up.

“Can feel it,” He rasps after releasing your clit with a wet pop, “Give it to me.”

“I—fuck, wait,” Your trembling thighs close around his head as your orgasm hits you hard and fast, and you see him lift his mouth long enough to watch the burst of clear liquid that gushes from you. 

Your lips gape at the sight but he merely goes back and licks up every drop, mouth relentless– almost punishing–while incoherent sobs that vaguely sound like his name leave your mouth.

Your eyes are teary by the time he pulls back with his chin and lips glistening.

“That’s one,” he whispers, and you freeze, because why did he say that like there were a lot more to come? 

While trepidation makes your skin prickle, your pussy, ever the traitorous whore, twitches needily. Already rearing to go again. 

Suguru cups the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss, messy enough to make blood rush up your neck. He rolls his tongue around yours, flicking it as he did with your clit, making you taste yourself on him.

You hear the rasp of fabric as he moves between your legs, sliding his pants off but when you try to glance down, his hold on your neck tightens.

“Don't,” a few strands of his hair came loose and they brush over his forehead when he shakes his head, “You’ll panic if you look.”

The implication behind that statement, makes you pause. He thought you’d panic if you looked at his cock?

Just how big was he? 

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.” he waits until you nod before he covers your body with his, lining the flared tip of his length against your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

You have less than an inch seated inside when the girth makes you claw at his shirt.

“Oh,” you huff. Surprise colouring your tone. “I see why you told me not to look.”

His hips pause with your pained hiss. “Too much?”

“Yes,” your legs wrap around his waist. “Don't stop.”

He groans like you wounded him and sinks deeper, cock stretching you wide enough to make you stop breathing altogether.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispers, but you can’t. Every time you try it's like trying to inhale underwater. It’s too heavy and so suffocating all that comes out is a choked moan. 

Suguru’s fingers apply pressure to the sides of your throat, gently massaging. 

“Breathe,” he says again, broad chest rising then falling, silently encouraging you to match the pattern. His eyes go dark when you comply, sweet sighs fanning over his mouth, copying his. “Good girl.”

He rears back to take his shirt off and you’re graced with tanned skin and sculpted muscle that distracts you long enough to let him deeper. 

Your nails rake down his back once he’s on you again. Cuttingly sharp whereas his touches are soft as he smooths his hands over your skin, coaxing out all the tension that has you wound up. 

Each caress is torturous and deliberate. Shaping over your hips and squeezing your breasts until a mewl echoes. 

“Feels so good,” he breathes, then kisses you again.

It's devastatingly disarming, and he knows it, because when your body relaxes under him, he wastes no time in driving forward and burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, and he catches the curve of it with his hand, pulling you against him.

“I know,  baby,” his jaw is clenched tight. Hips rutting so his pelvic bone rolls onto your clit. You wind your legs around him tighter and the massage table whines under your combined weight. “Fuck, stretching so tight around me.”

You know you're being loud when he starts moving. At first, you didn't trust him when he said the walls were thick but right now you don't seem to care.

“So full,” you mumble against his mouth, and he grunts, delivering a brutal thrust that jostles you both.

“Yeah? Where do you feel it, hm?” his palm reaches for your stomach, flattening over the small bulge his cock leaves every time he pumps into you. “Right here?”

All you manage are frantic nods, and he slides his hand down to grind the heel into your clit. Your body tries to buck, but he's so close you can't do more than shiver. 

You're wringing his cock dry. Swallowing every inch and squeezing until his balls draw up. They slap against your ass, messy and loud with your slick, only to get drowned out by your panicked gasp.

“I’m close,” you warn, and he nods in response, pace turning desperate as he chases his own high.

The once comforting blend of scents filtering through the air makes your head swirl.

“Cum with me,” he demands, and there's not a lot you can do to hold off any longer. Pleasure hooks into your spine, and Suguru holds you against his body. The tremors shaking you pass into him and back again.

His grip on your hip is bruising as he spills rope after rope of his cum as deep as he can go, shuddering with his release and letting out breathless moans and gasps that almost send you off the edge again.

Cum spills down your thighs when he pulls out, and he's pushing you back down when you try to get up.

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he says, and hell, he doesn't have to tell you twice.

Your body feels heavy against the bed when he walks away. Water trickles then he’s back again. You can’t lift your head to make sure but you feel the heat of him. And the heat of the cloth that's dragged between your legs as he cleans you with practised ease. When you flinch, still tender and sensitive he only coos and kisses your knee.

Suguru lifts you and readjusts your position on the massage bed, making sure you’re comfortable before draping the towel over your torso again.

“I don't have an appointment for another hour,” he informs you and your lashes flutter, eyes bleary and drawing low with sleep. “You should some rest. I’ll wake you up in a couple minutes.”

You manage a small nod while he shuffles through the room.

It takes a little longer for him to return, but when he does his uniform is back on. Unwrinkled and neat. Hair without as much as a strand out of place.

He touches you again, massaging your shoulders in slow circles that have you drifting closer to dreamland and continues the treatment as if nothing had happened, lazily working his hands over your limp body.

“Finally relaxed.” He hums his approval when you soften under his touch, tracing his fingers over your sternum.

Yeah, definitely coming back next month. You think.

Though next week was probably closer to the truth. 

art by @/aransmind

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“aang—” you sigh, instinctively clenching around him. the thought of you swollen with his child makes him grow harder inside you. he wants to fill you up until it takes.

“mmh need it so bad” he whimpers, “need to — hah —make you completely mine”

the thought of you carrying his child consumes him. his thrusts are desperate and sloppy, driven by this singular goal. each time he drives into you, the force of it jolts your entire body up the futon. your hips shift, just an inch, but it’s enough for him to slip out with a wet, frustrating sound

“nonono stay still” he whines, a sound of pure anguish against your collarbones. as if the fault isn’t entirely his. his hips jerk forward to no avail, “please baby, just—mghh— let me stay inside you”

his voice betrays how close he is to tears

“aang” you murmur, reaching up to cup his face. your thumb brushes away the moisture gathering at the corner of his eye, “i’m not going anywhere”

you shift your legs, wrapping them around his waist to tether him to you. his grey eyes are dark and hazy, clouded by the vision of you round with his child, leaving only a ring of silver around his dilated pupils. he fumbles between your bodies, hands shaking ever so slightly as he lines himself up again. he pushes back in with as much self-control as he can muster, and for a moment, it’s perfect.

then his hips snap forward again, and the same thing happens. you’re jolted away, and he slides free. it’s a deeply frustrating cycle. your hand traces the blue arrow on his forearm tenderly, “i’ve got you” you whisper, “i’m right here”

“please please please” he cries. he wants to hold you down, to pin you in place and take what he wants, but his hands are already occupied. his right holds him firmly above you while his left hand is laced with yours, fingers intertwined and pressed into the pillow above your head, a connection he refuses to break. he won’t let go. he can’t. not now. not ever

his hips falter again, slipping free with a squelch that has him whimpering against your throat. he keens forward, trying to maintain the shallow angle that will keep him buried inside you. but his need is too potent and his control is too frail

“relax aang” your voice a soothing balm against his fervor. he lifts his head and you can see crystal tears trickling through the sweat on his flushed skin. your free hand, the one not trapped in his grip, comes to rest on his shoulder. rubbing circles on his slick skin

“i can’t . .” he trails off, his breath hitching, “can’t i can’t mmh . . i keep losing you” his fingers tighten around yours, his chest rising and falling with ragged gasps.

for a moment, you think his overwhelming need has shattered him completely. his expression is one of pure anguish. then, within seconds, it shifts from frustration to something you can’t quite place your finger on.

“aang are you okay?” you ask softly, trying to offer what little comfort you can. he takes a shuddering breath. silver eyes dropping to where your bodies are joined, or rather, where they should be joined. he swallows thickly, “can i” he starts, then lifts his eyes to yours once more, “need to try something but i don’t want to hurt you”

even now — in the most intimate of moments — his fear of his own power and the destruction he’s capable of looms.

“you’ve never hurt me before,” you whisper, voice unwavering. it’s the honest truth. aang holds you with a tenderness that contradicts the power that hums beneath his skin. he’s always been so careful with you, so gentle.

he shakes his head miserably. he can’t quite meet your eyes, gaze darting away to the pillow beside your head.

“i can’t think straight anymore” he mumbles, voice barely audible. “feels like all my control is gone. s’much noise in my head right now, i just need you so bad”

he shifts his weight restlessly. the blush dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears is a testament to his utter mortification at having to admit this.

he takes another shaky breath, “i was thinking. . . i c-could use my bending.” he pauses, and the blush deepens, if that’s even possible. he looks utterly humiliated. “to. . . hold you still”

he finally forces himself to look at you, silently begging you to not be disgusted by him, to not be afraid. “i’ll be careful just. . need you to stay still. s-so i can . . .please. i won’t be rough, i p-promise, i. . i—”

aang is the most powerful being in the universe, yet the weakest in your arms. you nod, you trust him with your life, with the universe.

a shaky exhale leaves his lips, and you feel the wind shift. the air in your room grows heavy, pressing against your skin. you feel a caress against your skin that isn’t his hands. a soft, swirling current of air that traces the curve of your waist, the dip of your hips. it's like being held by a pair of strong, invisible hands, one on each side of your pelvis, anchoring you in place.

it’s unyielding but it doesn’t hurt. you test it, trying to shift your hips, and find you can’t move more than an inch

“hold on” he murmurs, eyes screwed shut in concentration. the blue arrow on his forehead seems to glow faintly. you feel the air pressing against your back, your shoulders. a man-made cocoon that prevents any further movement of your lower body

he opens his eyes, watching your face intently, searching for any sign of pain. “is that okay?” he asks, voice tight with restraint. “does it hurt baby?”

“no” you shake your head, “it’s fine aang, can barely feel it”

“good,” he breathes, relief washing over his features, “that’s really, really good” he doesn’t waste another second, lining himself up at your entrance and pushing in slowly. this time when his hips snap forward, the air holds you steady

“ohhh,” he chokes out, his pace immediately becoming more confident, more stable. “yesyesyes, you feel so g-good. you’re so perfect for me.”

the blue arrow tattoo trailing from his temple, seems to be pointing right at you, marking the path of his lewd intention. his forehead presses against yours. huge hand never letting go of yours, silver eyes fixed on you. even as his hips pound into yours with a brutal rhythm. “take it. all of it. gonna fill you up so good.”

his words are pure filth. they make your whole body clench around him. you’re completely at his mercy, “aang please,” you whimper, the only word you can manage. you’re not even sure what you’re begging for. but he seems to understand anyway.

“i know, baby,” he murmurs, “i know what you need.” he unravels your grasp from his, thick fingers sliding down your side and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. he traces the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, before coming to rest on the soft swell of your stomach.

“right here,” he says, pressing his palm flat against your lower belly. “gonna put our baby righttt here.” his hips snap forward again, harder this time “gonna fill you up so much you’ll be able to feel it for days”

the thought makes your whole body clench around him, “don’t do that,” he gasps. “won’t last much—hck—longer, i want . . . want to savor this”

but you can’t help it — the way he’s talking, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world while simultaneously rutting into you like he wants to break you— it’s too much. your body responds on its own, tightening around him again and again.

“aang” you whimper, tears beading your waterline

“baby” he curses, hips stuttering, each thrust growing sloppier, clumsier by the second. “you want it too, mmh don’t you? want me to breed you until you’re carrying my child?”

“yes,” you manage to gasp out, the word dripping off your tongue mindlessly “yes, aang. wan’ it. want you."

his hips lose all semblance of rhythm. “gonna do it,” he pants against your lips, his silver eyes wild and unfocused. “gonna make you round and full with my airbender.”

his hand presses harder on your stomach, as if he can already feel the life he’s determined to create there. “our little air nomad,” he whimpers, a sob of pleasure. “gonna have your pretty eyes. . . gonna fly before they can walk.”

your inner walls, slick and swollen from his relentless pounding, clamp down around him, milking his cock, pulling him deeper.

“ohh baby” he stutters, burying himself to the hilt as the first real wave of your orgasm hits. his cock is trapped in the vice-like grip of your release. every time your walls convulse, they drag against his length, the sensitive ridge of his tip catching on your clenched muscles. it makes his whole body shake.

you can feel him twitching inside you, a telltale sign of his own impending release, and the thought only intensifies your own.

“that’s it, baby, that’s it,” he’s chanting, words barely coherent. “take it. take all of me. mghh, you’re so tight. so perfect. my —hck— forever girl”

he’s trying to move, to keep thrusting into you, but your body won’t let him. you’re squeezing him too tight. he’s trapped, and the realization seems to push him over the edge. his whole body goes rigid, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as he spills inside you.

a hot, sticky pulse that seems to go on forever. tangible proof of his desire, making good on his promise to fill you up, to breed you. it feels like he’s pouring his very soul into you.

he collapses on top of you, his full weight pressing you into the futon, but you don’t mind. his face is buried in your hair, his breathing uneven against the shell of your ear. for a long time, the only sound is the frantic beating of his heart against your ribs and the wind still whispering at the edges of the room

then he presses a soft, kiss to your shoulder, lips gentle against your glistening skin. “are you okay?” he whispers frantically, “did i hurt you?”

you turn your head to look at him, his silver eyes full of a love so profound it makes your heart swell. “no,” you whisper back, and you mean it with every fiber of your being. “it was perfect.”

he pushes himself up on his elbows, he looks down at where you’re still joined, pulling put carefully. you whimper at the loss, at the feeling of his cum beginning to trickle out of you.

“i’ve been thinking about it for such a long time.” he shifts, settling beside you and pulling you into his arms. you rest your head on his broad chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“hmm?” the tremors of your voice vibrating against his bare skin

“air nomads,” he says, “we’re gonna bring them back. you and me.” he kisses the top of your head, arms tightening around you. “gonna have a whole tribe of them”

“a whole tribe?” you ask. “don’t you think we should start with one?”

“one,” he agrees, his hand sliding down to rest on your stomach again. “and then two. then three. and . . .” he trails off, “we’ll see where it goes from there.”