# NSFW TWT ! NERDJO AU ⋆ 18+ MDNI | SMUT AHEAD ⋆ mean/popular fem!reader ⋆ secretly mutuals ⋆ satoru & reader make softporn on twt ⋆ university au ⋆ no use of y/n but reader’s alias is ‘love’ ⋆ fake dating ⋆ academic rivalry & animosity ⋆ satoru and reader hate each other ⋆ reader briefly cheats on her bf… sorry… ⋆ art by @to00fu & dividers by #omni.resources
The test results dropped on Tuesday morning.
You’re in the library atrium pretending to study when your phone explodes. Top of the list: Satoru Gojo. Again. Your name is right under his, separated by four measly points like the universe is personally trolling you. Three years of this shit. Three years since you publicly embarrassed him in front of the entire freshman clique and he decided the best revenge was becoming an academic imp who lives to make your life harder.
You slam your laptop shut a little too loud without meaning to. The girl at the next table gives you a look.
Later, in the hallway after the follow-up lecture where Professor Hayashi basically sucked Gojo off for his answer on ethical frameworks, you corner him. Or he corners you. It’s hard to tell with the way you two orbit each other like pissed-off magnets.
“Congrats on the participation trophy,” you say, voice dripping with fake sweetness as you lean against the wall. You can feel the pride in his eyes. The way he looks at you like he knows just seeing him rubs it in your face in all the ways he doesn’t have to say. “Must feel good finally beating someone who actually has a social life.”
Satoru gives you that slow, infuriating smirk you’ve gotten so used to seeing. White hair falling into his eyes, glasses sliding down his nose just enough to make him look… not horrible. “Participation trophy? Cute. Almost as cute as you pretending you’re not seething right now.”
“You’re delusional.”
“You’re literally going red.”
“Fuck off, Gojo.”
“I’m sure you’d love that.” He steps closer, towering over you in that stupid hoodie that smells faintly like it’s just been washed along with whatever expensive cologne he pretends he doesn’t wear because he’s definitely the kind of guy that thinks he’s above materialism. “Three years and you still can’t handle me being better at something. Pathetic.”
You shove his chest lightly—mostly because you need him to back up before you do something mental like notice how warm he is. You don’t even like warmth. You hate warmth. “Keep telling yourself that. One day the curve is gonna humble you and I’ll be there to watch you weep.”
He laughs under his breath, that low sound that always hits you somewhere you don’t want even want to think about because if you do you might puke. “Keep coping. See you in the next class where I remind you why you hate me so much.”
He walks away and you flip him off behind his back like a totally mature adult. Your blood is boiling. Your face is hot. You hate how the boy you once humiliated is practically walking all over your academic efforts. You hate him.
Later that night you’re back in your room, boyfriend on the couch beside you scrolling TikTok while some mindless sitcom plays on the TV. His arm is slung around your shoulders, heavy and familiar in a way that feels more like furniture than affection at this point. You’re physically here—head on his shoulder, laughing whenever you think you should—but your brain is somewhere else entirely. Totally and utterly mentally checked out.
Your phone is in your lap. Notifications from Twitter keep lighting up the corner of the screen. You have them muted but you’re occasionally checking for a certain someone’s notification.
limitless posted a new video!
You bite your lip, lower the volume entirely, and angle the phone away from your boyfriend’s line of sight because you’re a glutton who can’t help herself. The video is short—ten seconds. Toru’s hand wrapped around his cock, slow strokes, thumb teasing the head while the rest of him stays cropped out in that perfectly teasing way that leaves you wanting more. Lighting low and moody as always because to him this was a form of art, veins standing out on his forearm. Abs clenching lightly. Caption: “jerking off after a long day feels so fucking good.”
You like it instantly. Then you reply because you’re weak and this random guy online makes heat pool in your belly faster than any other guy.
lovesick: dude your hand deserves an award at this point. the things i’d let it do to me.
limitless: told you it pays taxes lol. what about you, love? rough day?
lovesick: you have no idea. some asshole topped the leaderboard again even after i studied my ass off. i want to scream
limitless: sounds like you need better stress relief than screaming. i got ideas if you’re horny and free
Your boyfriend laughs at something on his phone and squeezes your shoulder. You snap back to the reality you’re living with an internal sigh you fought hard to hold back. You smile at him automatically, the way you’ve trained yourself to do, but your thumbs keep moving.
lovesick: ideas huh? ominous, toru
limitless: only the good kind. send me something pretty and i’ll return the favor
You don’t send anything. Not while your actual boyfriend is right there. That line feels too blurry even for you. Instead you just keep chatting—stupid, flirty, surface-level shit that still makes your stomach flip. Your boyfriend mentions some dumb brainrot meme. You laugh and pretend you get the joke (you don’t, but it’s easier than having him mansplain it to you like you’re some idiot). It’s easy. It’s safe. It’s boring. It’s nothing like the knife-edge conversations you have with the real Satoru in the daylight. The constant bickering. The whole ‘being at each other’s throats’ shtick.
Your boyfriend eventually yawns and says he’s heading out. You walk him to the door, kiss him goodnight like it’s habit, and the second the door clicks shut you’re back on your bed with a long and drawn out sigh, your hand already sliding under your waistband.
Toru sent another video while you were saying goodbye. You watch it twice. Fingers moving faster, breath catching as his hand does that twisting thing that always wrecks you. You come hard with his alias on your lips and zero guilt about the guy who just left your apartment.
Across campus, Satoru is in his dorm doing the exact same thing.
He’s sprawled on his bed, laptop open to your latest post—a soft, slow video of your fingers between your thighs, thighs trembling just a little at the end. Caption: “needed this after today lol.” He’s been stroking himself to it for the last ten minutes, slow and lazy because he wants to drag it out. On the bottom of his screen, your DMs from earlier are still open and he keeps rereading your texts like a total loser. Imagining what it would be like to have this mysterious girl say all those things to him while he fucks her.
The girl in his ethics class would never say shit like that. The girl who publicly rejected him three years ago would rather die than call him “toru” in that way you do online. But “love”… love says whatever the fuck she wants and it makes his dick twitch every time.
He’s close—really close—when a new text from you pops up.
lovesick: i’m back, bf just left
Satoru’s hand stills. The orgasm that was right there fizzles out as something ugly twists in his chest. Boyfriend. Of course you have a boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you. Probably popular, probably hot, probably some frat guy who posts gym selfies and calls everyone “bro.” The kind of guy who never gets publicly humiliated on day one of uni.
He stares at the message for longer than he should. Then types back before he can overthink it.
limitless: does he know about the account?
lovesick: fuck no. i could never tell him
limitless: huh. bold
lovesick: what, you jealous toru?
limitless: nah. just surprised miss love has secrets... and a bf. guess we all do lol
He doesn’t feel jealous. He refuses to feel jealous. It’s just… weird. He has no idea the same girl who’s been ruining his mood in every shared class for three years is out here calling him toru and sending him shit that makes him come harder than he has in months. He has no idea she’s got a boyfriend who doesn’t even know this version of her exists.
Satoru closes the app, runs a hand through his hair, and tells himself it doesn’t matter. It’s just online. It’s just stress relief. Just getting off. It’s not like you two are exclusive or anything. Not like you have any idea who he is. Not like you ever will. And certainly not like you’d ever date him even if given the chance… probably.
Except… something about that last post of yours keeps nagging at him. The background. A specific paper on the wall behind your bed, partially visible in the corner of the frame. He brushed it off earlier, too busy jerking off and eyeballing your pretty boobs instead. But now with the post-nut clarity of it all… he’s seen that paper before. In the library during registration week. In the study rooms. In one of the buildings you both have classes in. In his own dorm on the clipboard. It’s not the exact same—but it’s definitely familiar enough to raise suspicions.
He zooms in. Heart rate picking up for a completely different reason now.
No. No fucking way.
That paper is your schedule. Your university schedule. The one with all the classes you’re taking that he just so happens to be taking as well. He can’t believe he’s only just noticed it now.
He opens another tab. Pulls up the portal and manages to find your schedule because he’s just that tech-y. Cross-references the classes in the paper on your video with the one on the portal. Checks the rooms of each one on the portal screen versus the one on your wall. He needed to be sure. He can’t just make assumptions on a whim—especially not ones as big as this one.
The pieces click together like a lock he didn’t even know he was picking.
Satoru sits up slowly, phone still in his hand, staring at your account like it just grew teeth.
“…Holy shit.”
He doesn’t message you back. He just sits there in the dark, the glow of the screen lighting up his face, a look of disbelief paints across it as the hatred and the want and the sheer fucking absurdity of it all mash together in his head.
Three years.
And the girl he’s been hating since day one has been getting off to him this whole time… and pathetically enough, he the same.
Pairing: Prince/Firelord!Geto x Belly Dancer!Reader x Prince Zuko
Synopsis: You are hired as the live entertainment for the Fire Nation's annual celebration as a belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and wealthy. You entertain with your body for a living and you're happy to do so, finding purpose and enjoyment in your dancing. Unbeknowst to you, two certain Firelord brothers have found enjoyment in your dancing as well and they are prepared to show you one hot night within the privacy of a bedroom.
Warnings: 18+; No Curse/Avatar AU; Brother!Geto x Brother!Zuko; Incest (but not really cuz they not f*cking each other lol); Threesome; Seduction; Body Worship; Curvy!Reader; Belly Dancing; Stripping; Dom!Geto x sub!Reader x Switch!Zuko; Dual Pussy Eating; Sharing Is Caring; Dual Blowjob; Deepthroating; Facefucking; Spit Play; Doggystyle; Mating Press; Breeding; Raw Creampies; Mild Power Play; Reader Cums 3x; Aftercare
Word Count: 9.1k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: This is my first installment for @madamechrissy's crossover collab!! Y'all please go give her ALL the love, grace & praise because she deserves it!! This woman is just as amazing just as a person as she is a writer & I'm honored that she puts up with my horny ideas lmaoo enjoy!!! <3 -Jazz
Credits: Zuko x Geto fanart found on Pinterest! If you know the artist, PLEASE tag me so I can properly credit them! Divider by @cursed-carmine!
You stand at the threshold of the master bedroom belonging to the Firelord, Prince Zuko, the polished mahogany doors staring back at you.
Dozens of Fire Nation guards, tasked with protecting the royals, stand outside against the wall, two on either side of you. They were the ones who guided you here, telling you that the Firelords requested to see you tonight.
You have every assumption as to why. It isn't a rarity or unaccustomed to you for royal members to request for you after hiring you for a party. You are a dancer, after all...with some other "skills" on the side that you use to your advantage.
While you know how to play the game among the royal court and have no problem refusing to spend the night with any royals after performing for them at one of their grand parties, you would be lying if you said you didn't want to be alone with the Firelords for the night.
You have been around them for some time now. As the royal belly dancer, groomed to dance for the elite and the wealthy, you were bound to make the acquaintance of the Fire Nation Family at some point...including the Firelord brothers. Both calm, poised, mysterious, and devilishly handsome.
They have been on your radar for a long time, filling your endless nights with hot fantasies of the two of them. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes together. Entangled limbs, your fingertips caressing their muscles, their tongues licking stripes across your skin.
You long to tear down that wall of mystery and restraint that the brothers have meticulously built around themselves. Especially that Zuko. He is quiet and stoic, only speaking when required, preferring to talk with his actions instead. Geto Suguru is more open, striking either fear or intrigue into anyone with his charming smile and cunningness.
And now here you are, standing right outside of the brother's doors prepared to greet them. The twirling in your stomach is not of fear but of anticipation, wondering where the night will bring you. You bring up your fist and lightly knock, polite but firm. "Enter," a deep, silky voice commands. Geto's voice.
The voice that has commanded attacks on enemies and brought you to orgasm so many times. Swallowing hard, you twist the doorknob and enter the master bedroom. It is a large, wide space with stone walls and windows overlooking the courtyard and Fire Nation, the summer breeze and afternoon sun pouring into the room.
On one side sits a large king-sized bed topped with pillows of all sizes and arrays of gold and red. The same as the carpets and curtains softly swaying in the summer evening. Geto Suguru, the oldest brother, sits in the middle of the room on the carpeted floor surrounded by a slew of expensive pillows and blankets.
He sits at a knee-level table surrounded with delicacies of all kinds, granite teacups with a brewing teapot, and a bottle of fireflower juice spiked with cinnamon, one of the most expensive bottles of alcohol in all the land. Geto is draped in a fine red robe adorned in intricate gold stitching at the flaps and black pants, his feet bare and black locks cascading down his muscular back.
He turns to look when you enter, his violet eyes piercing a hole into you. The butterflies in your tummy swarm, making your heart pound furiously in your chest.
“You required my services, Your Highness?” you ask, trying to keep your voice level and steady. Alas, it shakes a bit, coming out breathless at the sight of the handsome man. He gives you a small smile that is like a smack in the face. “Yes, little dancer. Come; have a seat. You may not be so formal with me. Call me Suguru."
You blink, unsure of how to reply. It is rare that a royal wants someone who is not within the court to be formal. His smile deepens, humored. “You look at me as if I’m tricking you. I can assure you that my father is nowhere within these four walls.” He then turns to the left side of the room where the light doesn't reach. “Isn’t that right, brother?”
You turn your head and that is when you see Zuko sitting there on a lounging sofa, wearing a black robe to blend in with the darkness. You can just see that his hair is also out, cascading in black waves down his back, and he is sipping some tea. You jump, placing a hand on your beating heart. “Oh! Prince Zuko, forgive me. I did not know you were here.”
Zuko doesn't reply; he only stares, somehow staring right through you. Both of his eyes render you speechless—the wounded one included. Many do not regard Zuko the same way they do Geto due to his burn scar, but you have always thought the disfigurement was quite sexy.
Geto chuckles, pouring himself some fireflower juice. “Don’t mind him. Zuko can be an enigma when he wants to be…which is all the time.” He smirks when his brother gives him a sharp glare from across the room. “Quiet, Geto. Don’t make me request your removal from this room.”
Geto smirks at you, unbothered by his brother's heated threat. “That’s code for “don’t make me murder you”,” he chuckles. “Nice, isn’t he?” He gives you a wink, jutting his chin at you. "To what may we call you? Though we know your name, we want you to feel comfortable."
Comfortable. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Many men always say this when you're within the confines of their bedroom, only wanting you relaxed so they may take advantage. "Y/N," you reply, giving the brothers a respectful bow as you shut the door behind you. It shuts with a click, making your stomach flip.
Zuko nods over at the table where his brother sits. “You may sit. Plenty of room.” Geto hums in agreement, a flame flickering from his fingertip as he lights himself a pipe filled with tobacco leaves. The smoke wafts through the air as you slowly walk across the room, feeling their eyes on you.
Though you are covered by a shawl draped over your shoulders, it is mesh, which means your midrif top showing off your stomach and long skirt that doesn't do much to hide your curves. Both red and decorated in gold stitching, dripping in gold beads that clink whenever you twist, turn, or move your hips and stomach when you dance.
You don't feel uncomfortable the way you used to whenever men ogled at your moves. If anything, you feel powerful. But now, under the brothers' hot gazes as you sit at the table, you feel exposed. Your layers peeled back like a fruit.
Geto motions down at the array of finger food before you: cheeses, dates, crusted breads, fruits covered in chocolate. “Would you care for a bite? Perhaps a drink? I have tea, water, wine…perhaps something stronger?” He eyes the bottle of fireflower juice sitting next to him.
You choose wine to loosen yourself up, grateful for the crisp taste as it slides down your throat once Geto pours you a goblet. “Thank you for your invitation, My Lords.
Geto shrugs like it's nothing, smoke billowing attractively from between his pink lips. The bottom lip is piercing with a small ring, unfortunately drawing your attention to his mouth. “Of course. You needed it after that performance you put on, I’m sure.” You act shy and modest, staring down at your wine. “Oh, it’s nothing. For me, that was a simple dance. I have done plenty more complex and strenuous.”
You were hired tonight to perform for the Fire Nation's Royal Family and their close party, dancing among the sounds of the drums and guitars as fire eaters surrounded you, swallowing swords emblazoned with flames. The flames were hot, but you were hotter. You danced like the heat didn't bother you, sweat sliding over your damp skin and curves as you winded and swirled your hips.
As you danced, surrounded by all of the royals, your eyes caught the brothers' gazes through the flicker of the flames, orange and red flickering across their handsome faces. Their unyielding gazes spurred you on, making your hips move faster and your body slither like a snake. You are famous among the royals for your dance moves and you were guaranteed to make them remember you.
Starting with the Firelord brothers. “Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that," Geto chuckles. "It’s important to care for your body. Especially if you are dancing for royalty.” He winks across the room at Zuko. “And since my brother adores your dancing so.”
“Shut up, Geto,” he growls. “I do not!” You turn towards the younger brother, a pit in your stomach at his words. “You don’t?” you ask, cocking your head at him. Zuko realizes his mistake and quick tries to backtrack, his cheeks hot with a flush. “N-No, I meant…I didn’t mean—“
Geto tosses his head back and laughs, the sound oh-so attractive and pulling a smile out of you. “A catch, isn’t he? He can lead the Fire Nation Army into attack on the frontlines, but he can’t even form a sentence in front of a pretty woman.”
Zuko snarls, teeth bared, gleaming in the twilight. “You’re testing me, brother. I’m about this close to throwing a fire ball at your head.” Geto mockingly gasps, putting a dramatic hand to his broad chest. “And scare the lady? How else will you find yourself a mate?”
You quickly try to stamp out the fire quickly growing between the brothers. “I am used to violence, I assure you both. And this is quite tame for me.” You turn to Zuko with an inviting smile, knowing that he is the shyer, quieter one. “Will you join us, Your Highness?”
Zuko looks surprised at the offer, his brows raising slightly. He shoots a look at Geto who nods, smirking quietly at his younger brother. “Just as long as my brother knows to keep his words wise and his brain intact," he grumbles. Geto chuckles as Zuko rises, barefoot and quiet as he strides over to join you at the table.
He sits with Geto on his knees across from you, pouring himself some more tea. Geto passes Zuko the pipe to which the young prince gags at, putting it aside on the table. “Come; let us toast." Geto raises his glass of fireflower juice high, his eyes shining. "To a night of wonders and surprises.”
“Cheers," you giggle, clinking your goblet with the brothers before taking a sip of your crisp wine. The sliver of afternoon sun has vanished now and the moon has taken the sun's place, leaving the room shining in a white glow. “Did you enjoy tonight’s festivities, Y/N?” Geto asks, his voice soft as silk. It makes you shudder in pleasure. “As much as I could. It’s hard to do much when you’re being ordered to be on your feet for most of the night.”
The older brother chuckles, taking another puff of his pipe as Zuko silently sips his tea. “Well, here you will not have that. I’m sure your feet must be sore.” You think you see both brothers' eyes flicker down to your soft feet and French-tipped toes, manicured and pretty, but you pass it off as a trick of the moonlight.
“No, you misunderstand. I do not hark on sore feet. It comes with my work and I would not give up being a dancer for anything.” You mean the words to the bottom of your heart, but Geto chuckles, thinking it is a joke. “For the money, I’m sure.” You smile, humoring him. “The pay is just the tip of the iceberg for me. I only wish to entertain others with my body. To dance is my—“
“Passion,” Zuko finishes, surprising you and Geto with his voice. “That’s rare.” Geto agrees, his gaze softening. “Mm. Quite rare. Very admirable. And quite sweet of you.”
You shiver at the brothers' praise, feeling a flood of endorphins that you've never felt from any compliment before. For a few minutes, you sip your wine in silence, letting the alcohol take over. “How did I make you feel?” you boldly ask. “When I danced?” The brothers look surprised at the random question at first, but Geto answers nonetheless. “Enchanted. Like you were putting me under a spell that I didn’t want to escape."
His violet eyes capture you between the wisps of smoke billowing from his lush lips. You force yourself to focus on his face instead. "You flatter me, sir," you giggle. Then you turn to Zuko who is silent, unmoving. "What about you, Your Highness? Did I please you as much as your brother with my moves?"
You didn't mean for it to sound so suggestive, and Zuko catches on, his cheeks growing red. "Does it matter that much to you?" he asks, not unkindly but just confused.
You nod, keeping your kind, welcoming smile. "Of course! If I'm hired to dance for the Fire Nation's princes and their court, it's my duty to entertain and please." Again: very suggestive. Perhaps you're throwing down the hammer a little too hard, but the brothers' quiet seduction and mingling scents of floral (Zuko) and cloves (Geto) is driving you to the brink of insanity.
"Oh, he was entertained," Geto smirkingly replies, sliding a suggestive look at Zuko. "And very pleased. Weren't you, brother?" Zuko elbows his brother in the side, earning a choked chuckle in response. But realizing you're waiting for an answer, he gulps and regains composure. "You were...very nice," he mildly replies into his tea cup. "I have seen belly dancing before, but not the way you do it. Where did you learn?"
You smile and explain to him about your home and culture. You tell them that you learned from your grandmother who taught your mother and older sister. You tell them that belly dancing is considered an important dance within your culture, using your body to make art. The two listen intently, making you feel shy despite dancing for a living.
"You flatter me too, Your Highness," you chuckle, staring through your lashes at Zuko. "Your kindness is a gift and to dance for you is an honor." Zuko blushes hot red at your sweetness, averting his gaze. "The pleasure is all ours," Geto replies with a twinkle in his eye. "Though we are leaving one thing out as to why you're here."
You sip more wine, letting the buzzing, warm feeling grow. "Oh? What is that?" Geto gives Zuko a knowing look, but the younger brother ignores him, instead pouring more tea. Your heart pounds and the heat you felt growing intensifies, making the room feel tense.
"Forgive us for coming off as nothing more than dogs, but I'm afraid we loved your dancing so much that we preferred to have it in private." Geto pauses, puffing on his pipe, sizing you up with his eyes.
You ignore the way your body sizzles at his confession. You were hoping you were here for that reason...among others. "You want me to dance for you?" you ask. "Right here?"
Geto sits back against the pillows, exposing a sliver of his abs to you. "If you wish. Though we commanded your presence, we want you to be comfortable here with us. That body is too perfect to be forced to do anything it doesn't wish to."
His words are made of saccharine and silk, making you buzz like you just drank a whole bottle of wine. Though Zuko doesn't say anything, his look, so intimate and personal, tells you everything. They truly mean what they say. If they wanted more from you, they would've taken it by now, you realize.
So you smile, letting your walls fall completely down. "Of course. I am at your service, Your Highnesses," you purr. "You have made me very comfortable without needing to, so who am I to refuse your command? However, I do not have any music."
"Geto can play guitar," Zuko replies. He snaps at his older brother, impatient. "Play something. Now." Geto only smiles, humored by his brother's flip switch in attitude. "Oooo, someone's desperate to see some more moves. Did you think the Firelord would be so demanding?"
"Yes, I did," you giggle as Geto rises to his feet, going to fetch his guitar. "But I am sure you both are to a degree. I would think the Firelords would be if you get your way all the time."
Geto returns with a small guitar and sits cross-legged at the table, placing it in his lap. "Oh, little dancer, we get our way all the time. And you will get yours if you continue to move the way you do." His seductive words cause a trail of heat to snake down to between your thighs, but you ignore it. Not yet.
"How will you have me, My Lords?" you purr, unable to keep the sex out of your voice. Geto elbows Zuko, letting him talk. The young prince's eyes bore into yours, intense and fiery. "Stand right there," he softly commands, nodding at the window. "In the moonlight."
You rise to your feet and slink over to the window, standing in the sliver of moonlight serving as your spotlight. Then the music begins, Geto's fingers stroking and strumming the guitar strings the way you picture him doing to your body. The music is soft with a bit of Indian scales added to it. "Dance for us, love," he encourages. "However you wish."
And so you dance. Under the silvery moon and the hot gazes of the princes, you wind your hips, flip your hair, and move your stomach so impressively like it's made of water. You twist, grind, and sway, letting the music control you. When the guitar strums get bolder and faster, you move with them, your movements more intense but still controlled.
The watchful eyes of your princes encourage you, pushing your aching muscles and winding hips to move faster until completion. You reach the same peak you would with an orgasm, feeling a tightness in your core that bursts until you're coating in explosive pleasure that makes you gasp. You hit a pose, raising your arms high as you face the princes, coating from head to toe in sweat.
Geto stops playing and applauds you while Zuko sits still as a statue, gobsmacked. "Beautiful," he murmurs. You smile at the praise, bowing. "Did that please you, My Lords?" you ask, out of breath and pumped full of arousal. You can feel your slick travel down between your thighs and you clamp them shut in an effort to hide the scent of your slick.
The aura in the room has shifted, leaving a tense feeling in the air that the brothers feel too. You can tell from how rigid they both sit as if trying to seem normal but miserably failing. Geto is the only one who comes clean, moving the guitar from his lap to reveal his bulge under his robe. "Yes, lovely...a little too much. I am sure you can see it."
His eyes slide over to Zuko and sure enough, the younger prince is sporting a hard cock under his slacks as well. "Oh," you sigh, your eyes glued to their bulges. "Your Highnesses..." You stare, unashamed and so unproper. And not caring one bite.
"F-Forgive me," Zuko stammers, covering his hard-on with a pillow as he madly blushes. "You can leave if you don't like this. I'm not usually like this." He looks ashamed and shy, averting his eyes from yours.
But you shake your head, mouth practically watering. "It's alright. You're just making me blush." And quite wet. You can't remember the last time your pussy has felt this tingly and open, waiting for some attention. Geto raises a brow at you, catching onto your game. "Oh? And why is that?" he asks, his voice much deeper than usual.
Zuko turns to you, his attention once again pulled back to you. You stare at both, unable to hide your want anymore. "Perhaps you're not the only one who's been enchanted," you whisper. "Maybe I'm feeling this fire too."
Silently, the two brothers share a look and finally, they rise to their feet. Zuko drops the pillow, revealing his bulge again, and is the first to make his way over to you. You feel wobbly and unsteady as he strides towards you, all muscle and discipline under his silk robe, standing a whole head taller than you.
But when he finally nears you, you are neither intimidated or frightened. If anything, you are oh-so aroused and attracted to his height and strength. He places his fists at his sides, his muscles tense, jaw working. "I want to touch you," he hoarsely confesses. "I want to...kiss you. Will you let me?"
He dares to finally touch you, placing his hand in yours. You swallow hard as his long fingers lace through yours, just as Geto comes up behind you. It is sudden and silent, making for a great sneak attack. All you feel is his dick pressing into your backside, hard and hot, making your brain muddy. You turn to Zuko with an answer on your tongue, your pussy throbbing impatiently. "I—Oh!" you gasp before your face is being forced to turn to the side and Geto's lips are on yours, his fingers on your cheek.
Prince Geto kisses like a dream. A wet dream, that is. His lips are soft and spiked from the fireflower juice, but they are also wet and supple, his tongue sliding across yours. You kiss him back, your lips moving together in a heated dance, soft moans traveling between you. Zuko watches, enraged. "Hey, asshole! You said we were sharing her, remember?"
Geto chuckles against your lips, pulling away with a hooded look your way. "Sorry, brother, but you were too slow. I couldn't wait to have these lips any longer." His thumb gently massages your bottom lip, nearly sending you through the ceiling."That kiss was meant for your brother, Your Highness," you giggle. "Although that was quite a kiss."
Geto smiles pridefully, his hands finding your hips. "What can I say? I aim to please, little one." He leans in to steal another, but Zuko beats him to it, turning your chin to face him. "I kiss way better," he mutters before he sweeps your lips up in a kiss. He is no longer the shy, stoic man you met earlier; now, the man in his place is bold and unabashed as he kisses you down, making you melt beneath his lips.
Geto watches his brother kiss you as he sandwiches you between himself and Zuko, hard muscle pressed against soft curves. "Mmm, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his hands caressing your curves. "For so long, we've watched you. Craved you. Just wanted to keep you to myself."
Zuko eyes him from over your head as he pulls away from kissing you, your taste on his lips. "Don't get ahead of yourself, brother. You're in MY room." You smile at their little rivalry, placing a hand on both of their broad chests. "You may keep me," you giggle. "We have tonight, don't we?" Geto looks surprised at your agreement, thoughtfully stroking your sides. "Is that because you want us to? Or because you want to please us? Be honest, little dancer."
His big hand cups your chin as he kisses you once more, the scent of tobacco wafting off of him in intoxicating waves. Zuko peppers your neck in kisses, overstimulating you in the best way possible to the point where you're gasping and panting for air when his older brother pulls away. "I want it too," you confess.
How can you not? Every kiss, touch, and word from the brothers are like the strongest hits of a drug. You crave more of them, selfishly. You want to be the one who says that you danced and had a night of endless sex with the Firelord brothers, pleasing them with your body in every way possible.
Zuko smiles against your neck and Geto gives you a devastatingly pretty grin, overjoyed at your confession. He takes your hands and presses his lips to your knuckles, making your stomach flip. "Then lay down and let us explore you. Pleasing you will please us."
And you believe him. Plus, the idea of the Firelord brothers being two givers and pleasers is something you definitely want to explore more of. Two handsome princes who would like to please YOU, a homely dancer girl, because it gets them off? You'd be an idiot to refuse this!
Zuko anchors your attention back to him with his soft lips and nimble fingers caressing your body, running up and down your stomach. "Will you let us touch you?" he murmurs, a plea in his tone. You grasp one of his hands, clamping it tightly against your body, not wanting him to let go. "Yes," you whisper. "Please touch me."
You twist around to kiss the younger prince, his surprised moans swallowed by your wine-spiked tongue. Geto chuckles, taking a handful of your ass in his big, calloused hands. "Such sweet begging. And such a sweet body too." Together, the brothers share your body, their hands indulging in your curves the way you have only dreamed of. You usually swallow back cringes whenever a man touches you, but them? It's nothing but shivers and sensations that make you want to melt. "Oh," you sigh, unable to utter anything but mere words.
As Zuko busies himself kissing your neck and breasts (without taking off your top, of course, because he's a gentleman), Geto manages to slip some of your skirt down to expose your hip dips and the curve of your spine. "A-Ah," you moan, your hips bucking into Zuko as Geto kisses down your stomach, his fingers playing with your hips and gliding down your sides to your thighs.
He stares up at you and the way your back curves as your head tilts back, your hair cascading down like a sweet-smelling river. "You like that, pretty?" he teases. "You want me to go lower?" His hand slides under your skirt and you gasp when you feel his thick fingers caress you between your thighs, right over your damp panties. Arousal explodes like a firework inside of you and you can no longer bear the foreplay anymore.
"Yes, please," you whisper. Your voice is soft and breathless; needy. Just what the royal brothers want. Together, they kneel and pull up your skirt, exposing your thong and bare thighs underneath. They groan at the sight of your asscheeks looking so plump wedged between the tight thong. "Oh, fuck," Zuko softly moans, just above a shudder.
"Goddamn!" Geto gasps, staring mesmerized at the slick dripping down your thighs. "Look at how wet she is, brother. All for me." His tongue juts out to lick your inner thigh, giving you a taste of the cool metal of his tongue piercing. Zuko's eyes cut over to his brother, sharp and irritated. "You mean all for us. Don't play with me right now, Suguru."
Geto smirks, gently suckling on your thigh just to hear you moan. "My bad, brother. It's just so much fun teasing you. We will share this sweet pussy of hers and make her cum her brains out." He stares up at you, eyes twinkling. "That sound good to you, little one?"
So inviting. So considerate. So in tune with your body and your pleasure. Nothing has ever sounded better. So you lay down among the soft, luxurious pillows and allow the brothers to split your thighs open beneath your skirt, groaning at the sight of your lace thong so soaked through the fabric to the point where you are dripping wet.
Geto dares to pull the tiny article of fabric down your legs, exposing your pussy, puffy with arousal and glistening with your nectar. Some of it coats your inner thighs and the slit of your asshole, making you bite your lip as the summer breeze hits your sensitive pussy lips. "Ooo, look at her, brother," Geto murmurs, mesmerized by your slick. "So much here for us to share. We must indulge and—"
"I go first," Zuko cuts in before diving face first into your pussy. You gasp, your hand instantly grasping his long black locks as his soft lips mash with yours between your soft thighs, toned from years of dancing. "Oh!" you gasp, eyes bugging at the pleasure. "M-My Lord, that's s-so good! Oh, fuck yes!"
Zuko is quite a wonder at eating pussy. He does it as if he loves it, moaning as his tongue sends lightning strikes across your clit. Geto watches on, knelt beside his brother with a disapproving frown. "So much for sharing," he mutters. "Don't I get a little taste?"
Zuko looks irked by the mere thought of sharing you, but still, he scoots over an inch to allow some space for Geto. "Fine, but just stay out of my way." Then he goes right back to slipping his tongue between your sticky, wet pussy lips, drawing moans from deep in your chest out of you.
Geto smirks, peppering your right inner thigh in wet kisses, his fingers pressing into the muscle as he spreads it away from your pussy. "You're just worried that I'll make her cum before you do. Don't you know pierced tongues do it better?"
Moments later, you are writhing, bucking, and twisting like you're experiencing an exorcism on the princes' pillows and in their hands clamped tight on your thighs and under your ass as their tongues slash and skate hungrily along your pussy. Their tongues slash along your slit, alternating between your dripping hole and your clit buzzing with pleasure and all kinds of sensations.
When Zuko slides his tongue inside of you, Geto sucks your clit, moaning as he does so. They totally devour you whole, the lewd sounds of their fat, wet tongues swirling between your thighs. Their faces are pressed flush against each other, cheek to cheek, as they give you two tongues to lose your mind over...and you do. "Oh, fuck!" you cry out, gripping the pillows beneath you. "God, My Lords, yes! More please! Don't stop!"
Geto pulls away from your clit to smile, his violet eyes drinking in the way you massage your tits and tweak your nipples over your top. "You hear that, brother? She loves my mouth on that pretty clit."
Zuko growls as he pulls his tongue out of your pussy, the muscle sticking with your juices. "You sure that isn't because my tongue is deep inside of her?" So the brothers turn to you, expecting the truth."Tell me, little one: do you like my tongue or my brother's?" Geto asks in his silky voice as he rips your top down, exposing both of your precious, full tits to them.
"Both," you moan, surprised you can even speak. "Both of you are making me feel so good!" The brothers smile, satisfied with your answer. "Mmm, nice answer, baby," Geto hums. "Perhaps you'd like this tongue a bit lower?"
And then his fat, pierced, royal tongue is sliding down between your asscheeks, licking and sucking greedily at the tiny hole. Zuko begins to suck and lick on your clit now, humming as he takes the tiny rosebud into his mouth and does wonders to it, his mouth made of magic.
"Oh, my God!" you groan, your fingers lacing through their long, silky locks. Your back arches off of the floor, your body totally at their mercy. The vibrations of Geto's chuckle in your ass make you shudder, every sensation like a tidal wave of pleasure. "Mmm, naughty girl. Getting wetter from my tongue in your pretty little hole," he murmurs.
So he can feel it. You noticed a brief few minutes ago after Geto started eating your ass that your pussy has gotten significantly wetter, and not just because of Zuko's eager tongue. You are gushing like a waterfall, sending your honey dripping into the mouths of the younger prince. "Fuck, I think she's close!" Zuko groans, feeling your pussy tightening around his tongue now.
If he didn't feel that, you're sure he would've suspected by how loud you've gotten. Your moans and whimpers can't be contained anymore, bouncing off of his bedroom walls. "You're gonna cum for me now, sweetness?" Geto huskily asks, using his two fingers to gently rub at your asshole, making you damn near cream on yourself.
Zuko snarls into your pussy, anger radiating through his muscles flexing underneath his robe. "No, she's gonna cum for me," he growls. "Stop distracting her."
"I'm gonna cum for you both!" you desperately moan, grasping at their silky locks of hair, pushing them deeper into your holes, as far as they can possibly go. "Please, please make me cum, my Lords! Don't stop!" Zuko mumbles nonsense into your pussy while Geto laughs, speaking through wicked flicks of his tongue against your ass. "Never, little one. Just cum for us. Let go. We've got you now."
And like a puppet on a string, pulled by the princes' wicked and convincing tongue strokes, you let out a loud whine as you cum all over their faces. You soak their smoothly-shaven cheeks and chins as you cream, flooding their mouths with your nectar straight from the source of your sweet-like-sugar pussy. They share groans of satisfaction and need as they slurp up your essence, making you cry out and whine as your pussy throbs and tingles with every agonizing stroke of their tongues.
When you finally come down from your high, a smile stretches across your face, matching the one sliding along the princes' lips. "Mmm-hmm," Zuko hums as he pecks your tummy, making you twitch. His fingers glide along your sweat-soaked skin, slightly warmed by his fire abilities. "Mmm, good girl," Geto praises you, giving your ass a squeeze. "How was that?"
You are more than happy to let him know: "Like heaven. Thank you, My Lords." You sit up from your fort of pillows, want racing through your veins as you gaze at the handsome men before you. "Now I must please you both as well."
The princes must feel the fire radiating from your molten gaze because they don't hesitate giving you what you want. They each stand, racing each other to see who can do it the fastest. "Let's get her on the bed," Zuko requests. "I don't want her on the floor doing this."
You grin when he offers you a hand to help you stand. "How sweet of you, My Lord," you hum, taking his hand in yours, but even as you stand, your legs feel like jelly. Luckily, you have a certain young prince to help you. Surprising both himself, Geto, and you, he scoops you up into his arms and carries you over to his bed. "Oh!" you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Geto watches sourly, following behind. "Show-off," he scoffs. Zuko gives him a wink, pleased with himself. "Don't look so upset, brother. I'm just playing your own game is all...and winning."
Your giggles continue as Zuko swiftly walks over to the bed and gently places you down on the satin sheets, soft to the touch. The two princes stand at the foot of the bed, looking over your curves like you're a dessert plate. "So what are you waiting for, brother?" Geto asks, slyly smirking at Zuko. "Get udnressed and drop your pants...unless you're too afraid to get shown up by me."
As you laze about on the sheets, biting your lip in anticipation, you watch the Firelords disrobe for you. Your eyes are drawn to their fingers as they untie their robes while their eyes are locked soley on your beautiful face and body. Your arousal practically explodes and spills over when they expose their toned bodies to you, every part of them carved with muscle, their lower stomaches adorned in patches of fine black hair.
When their pants are finally off, you come face to face with what you've dreaming about for ages. Their dicks are just as beautiful as you pictured them being—different in size and shape, one thicker than the other, the other curving upward, but both throbbing, rock hard, and ready for you.
Geto raises a teasing brow down at you and your dreamy expression. "Well? You wanted to suck some royal dicks, right? Here you are now, little dancer." He wraps a hand around himself, gently pumping from base to tip. "Take them, little one, but you must do your very best for us, okay?"
Zuko flushes as you sit up in front of them, flashing him your naked tits, much to his dick's enjoyment. "Of course, Your Highness," you purr. "I would give you nothing less." You begin slow, using some body oil on the bedside table next to you to pour onto their hard dicks and into your palms, making both slick and shiny.
Then it's strictly about pleasing the two princes. Stroking, pumping, and sucking. Your pussy gushes at each deep moan, gasp, and swear that escapes the princes' lips as you alternate between sucking and stroking them. Geto throws his long hair back and moans in ecstasy as you pump him with your mouth, your lush, wet lips sliding up and down his shaft.
"Ah, fuck," he sighs, his handsome face contorted in pleasure. "God, that's fucking good." His big hand tangles in your hair, holding you firm, while Zuko watches in awe as your dainty hand strokes his dick in tandem. "Her hand feels good t-too," he stammers. You pull away from Geto's cock, strands of spit connecting his cockhead to your bottom lip.
"It feels good, my Prince?" you purr, staring at Zuko through your lashes. "Would you like my mouth as well?" Zuko can't even speak; he can only jerkingly nod as his cock twitches in your palm. You smile and wrap your mouth around him next, sliding him deep into your throat and against your tongue. Zuko's eyes widen at the new sensations, his mouth agape as your tight, wet throat closes around him and slides up and down his shaft.
"Oh, fuck!" he moans, clenching his fists at his sides as you bob up and down his dick, moaning in enjoyment. Geto watches on through hooded eyes, fucking your hand slick with oil.
You continue to work Zuko's dick in your throat, hollowing your cheeks and staring into his eyes. When you need to breathe, you slide him out of your throat only to suck and lick on his tip, earning a desperate hiss through his teeth. "Y-You...oh, fuck, how do you do that with your tongue?"
"This?" you ask before you push the brothers' cocks together and lick both of their tips at the same time, earning wanton groans in response. You continue to alternate between them, giving them as much tender, love, and care as possible, causing your own spit to pool down your chin and soak your tits.
But Geto soon takes initiative, your mouth too much for him, and grips your hair as he pushes himself deep down your throat. You gag in surprise, but you don't dare push him away, letting him use your throat for his pleasure. "Deeper," he grunts. "Come on now, love, don't give up. Take that fucking dick."
His moans are aphrodiasics to you as he fucks your mouth, his balls gently slapping against your chin. Black strands of hair hang in his handsome face, his composure lost as he thrusts deeper and deeper, filling your throat up with his cock. Zuko practically melts at the lewd sight, his cock growing bigger and thicker as he watches your mouth stretch around his brother's dick.
Geto notices and smiles, pulling out with a groan to tap his dick against your tongue. "You wanna try, brother?" he pants. "Just fuck her throat nice and deep. Make her take it." After some coaching, Zuko swallows hard and slides himself inside of your mouth.
Obediently, you take his slow, deep thrusts as he gets used to your throat closing around him, causing more spit to drip down your chin, making you look like a professional cock slut. The moans that Zuko lets out are choked and wanton, traveling straight to your soaked pussy. You can't help but play with yourself as Zuko fucks your throat, using it as he would a fleshlight.
Geto notices your fingers working between your thighs and smiles, raising his brows. "Oooo, someone's being quite naughty," he chuckles. "I suspect you need to be treated kindly down here again, sweetness?" Slowly, he switches places and climbs onto the bed behind you, placing his big hands on your hips. You feel his cock nudge your pussy lips apart, allowing your wetness to drench his tip.
"You want this dick now, darling? Can you take me and my brother at the same time?" Zuko groans as he slips out of your throat, allowing you to speak, which you eventually do once your moaning over Geto's cock rubbing against your pussy stops. "Yes!" you gasp. "Please fuck me, Suguru! I need y—"
You can't finish because he's already sliding in, filling you to the brim with dick. Your mouth falls agape as you're stretched open on his thick dick, expanding on every sensation you've ever felt. "S-Sorry, love, but your begging was just too damn cute," the older prince stammers, biting his lush bottom lip as you squeeze him tight. "Y-you—oh, fuck—feel so fucking good."
Zuko watches you bounce against his brother's dick buried deep inside of you, your tits swaying enticingly back and forth. "Don't tire her out. I still need to fuck her too." Geto chuckles, moving his fingers down to rub your clit in time with his breathtaking thrusts. "Sure...if she doesn't cum too hard. I'm known for doing that to women."
An irritated growl escapes Zuko as he slides his cock in your mouth again, keeping his thrusts a bit slower and lighter to not overwhelm you. How sweet of him. "Just fuck her and shut up," he growls. "I'll show you that I can do just as good of a job." Geto raises an interested brow, his smirk wicked and sly. "Oh, can you now? I'll hold you to that, little brother."
And then together, the two fuck you off of their cocks, pushing and pulling you back and forth. It is like some erotic seesaw, the rhythm building the more they fuck your dripping holes. Zuko's resolve drops with every thrust of his dick down your tight throat and ripple of your ass bouncing back against Geto's cock. "That's it," he grunts. "You suck me so well, baby. So fucking good!"
The way you squeal and moan around Zuko's cock makes Geto fuck you a little faster, placing a foot on the bed. It drives him deeper inside of you, to the point where you damn near feel him in your tummy. "Yeah? You like sucking my brother's fat dick while I fuck you with mine?" he pants. "That pussy certainly seems to."
Your pussy concurs, dripping over his fingers as he rubs your clit in time with his thrusts. You feel his eyes roll over your curves, drinking in the way sweat rolls off of your blessed body. "Fuck yes," he hisses. "How is this body so amazing, hm?" He begins to harshly palm your ass, indulging in the way your soft asscheeks ripple and bounce in time with his thrusts. Your body tingles at his touch, needing more. "Spank me!" you whimper.
"Seriously?" Zuko asks, surprised by such a request. But Geto is grinning like a kid on Christmas. "Oh, I'm gonna have some fun with you, little one." He then raises his palm and swats your ass repeatedly, the harsh sounds of his hand coming down on your ass exploding against the bedroom walls.
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
The assault on your ass combined with Geto's mind-melting thrusts is too much and soon, you feel your second orgasm cresting like a full moon. "M'gonna cum!" you moan around Zuko's cock. "Please harder, My Lord! Fuck me faster!" Geto's groan is fit for a porno, filled with need and desperation. "Of course, cutie. Anything you want."
So he thrusts harder, faster, his balls slapping against your clit. Sparks of pleasure explode through your body as you bounce back against his dick, practically fucking yourself as he pounds into you, taking and giving at the same time. "Such cute begging. Such a sweetheart," he grunts. He leans forward, capturing your tits in both of his big palms. "Gonna make me fucking cum. Make me breed you."
The idea of being bred by one of the princes–or both–turns you on more than you care to admit. You can only moan around Zuko's throbbing dick as Geto fucks your pussy like he owns it, chasing his orgasm. "M'gonna cum!" he groans. "You ready, little one? Ready to take this load?"
"Mmm-hmm!" you moan around Zuko's dick twitching in your throat. You don't get a chance to prepare before a hot rush of cum is flooding your insides, followed by a loud groan from Geto as he empties himself inside of you. You quickly cum as well, shuddering and shaking as your orgasm takes you on a journey through the stars and beyond.
Zuko watches as your eyes roll back with his cock still stuffed in your mouth, your orgasm taking complete control in addition to the hot gush of spunk that Geto gives you. It seems to last forever until Geto's grip on your tits eases and his thrusts grow sloppy until they finally slow.
He sighs as he slooooowly slides out of you, groaning at the gush of cum that manages to escape your pussy. You slide your mouth off of Zuko's cock and collapse between them, totally spent and breathless. Geto smirks at Zuko, cocky and proud of his work. "Told you she'd tap out," he chuckles. Gently, he strokes your ass, leaning down to check on you. "Tuckered out, little dancer? Or can you take more?"
More. Yes. Your body reacts immediately, igniting with need like a wildfire. You slowly sit up on your knees, staring into the worried gaze of Prince Zuko. "Do you wish to continue? We can stop if you—oh, fuck!"
He doesn't get a chance to finish because of your vicious sucking again, swallowing him whole and giving him a few pumps of your throat that make his toes curl. You pull away, lips coated in spit and pre-cum, bating your lashes at him. "Please fuck me, my Lord," you whimper. "I need to make you feel good too."
Zuko stares, blushing and intensely aroused, while Geto smirks at the sight. "You heard the girl. So you gonna show me up or what?" As if a switch flips, Zuko's shy demeanor vanishes, replaced with someone so determined to please you. "I want her on her back," he requests above a growl. "I want her to look at me when I make her cum."
His lewd words sound like a promise to your ears, fierce and impassioned, making your stomach flip with anticipation for what will come next...and hopefully cum next too.
Moments later, you're taken to euphoria again when Zuko is fucking you in missionary, hips slamming against yours as you lay back against Geto's broad chest. He holds your legs open for his brother, watching as Zuko fucks your pussy into his bed. The lewd noises of his dick sloshing and squelching in your wet pussy drifts through the air, mixing with your loud moans and his groans of pleasure.
There is a symphony of sex swimming in the air, uninterrupted or silenced, only growing more intense the deeper and faster Zuko fucks you. "Oh, my God, yes!" you wail against the bedsprings creaking. "That's so good, Zuko, fuck!"
The younger prince smiles, black strands of his hair cascading over his broad shoulders and face glistening in beads of sweat glistening in the moonlight. "Yeah? Better than my brother, right?" Geto glares from behind you, teasing your hard nipples as his brother continues to pound you into the mattress. "Watch it. I could snatch that pussy away from you easily."
Zuko breathlessly chuckles, his cock somehow twitching in your pussy at the prospect of such a challenge. "Doesn't seem like she'd like that," he grunts. "She—oooo, fuck, she's squeezing around me so tight!" He pauses to spit on your pussy, a drop of saliva dripping from his mouth to drench your puffy, sticky pussy lips.
You can only gasp as he slides in again, deeper, making you take every thick inch of him. Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls slack on desperate, loud moans and gasps as he draws himself inside of you, trapping you between himself and his brother. "I want to devour you, little dancer," he groans. "Wanna keep you here and make you mine over and over again."
He leans down to press himself against you, using his arms to hold himself up, encasing you in a prison of muscle that you don't want to escape. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deep into the very loins of your soul as he fucks you deep. "Would you like that?" he whispers.
You only whine in response, unable to formulate proper words. Geto laces a hand around your throat, squeezing. "Answer my brother, pretty girl. You wanna stay here and let my brother fuck you until you cum over and over again?" Zuko goes harder. Faster. Pistoning that dick inside of you and forcing you to answer. "Yes!" you wail. "Both of you! I want both of you, please!"
Geto's chest rumbles as he softly laughs, wrapping those big arms around you to hold you close as Zuko pins your thighs apart to fuck you in semi-mating press. "Then cum for me," Zuko grunts. "Give me all of that honey, baby, please. I need it. Please, please, please."
His begging is a straight drug lacing through your veins, getting closer and closer to yet another intense orgasm. Geto kisses down your neck as he squeezes you tight, anchoring you down before you float off as your orgasm crests. "Give it to him now, darling," he whispers. "Cum for him. Cum for us again."
It doesn't take long—not with the way Zuko is desperately moaning above you as he chases his orgasm head on, his cock sliding against your slick, wet pussy walls until he can't take much more. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" he gasps. "I-I can't...stop! Gonna fill you up!"
Plap, plap, plap goes his hips against your thighs as his thrusts grow faster and faster until finally—
"Fuck!" you both gasp in unison as Zuko floods your insides with his cum and you drench him in your cream, finally released from your bottle of self control. Your body would definitely be levitating if it isn't for Geto's beefy arms snaking around you, holding you close and holding you down, forcing you to take his brother's load deep inside of you.
Your eyes roll back and your body twitches as you cum, cum, and cum, drenching Zuko's cock and balls in your honey. He groans as he fills you, his dick twitching inside of you as the last of his spurts of spunk escape him and enter you, breeding you the same as his brother did moments before.
Finally spent, Zuko slowly pulls out of you, collapsing onto his back, his muscular body slick with sweat illuminated by the moonlight. For a while, there is only comfortable silence spiked with the afterglow of sex. "That was amazing," you finally sigh, delirious.
"Mmm-hmm," Geto hums in agreement. "Except..." He grips your chin and squeezes it tight, forcing you to look back at him. His violet eyes are firm yet fiery, making your stomach flip with excitement. "What do you say?" he asks, his tone dripping with authority.
You aren't sure what he means at first, your brain still mushy from your three orgasms. But then you realize it when Zuko snuggles up to your side and kisses your cheek. "Thank you, my princes," you whisper. Geto smiles and pecks your lips, satisfied. "You're very welcome, little one. Now let's get you cleaned up."
You thought tonight couldn't get any better, but that's before Geto carries you off to Zuko's large bathchambers and runs some hot water in a stone pool for you. Zuko adds some kind of liquid that has an herbal scent to the water, turning it a slight teal color and creating bubbles. The brothers get into the steaming water first before offering you their hands. "Careful now," Geto murmurs. "Gently. The water isn't going anywhere."
You take their hands and slowly step into the pool, hissing at the heat at first. But soon, the water soothes your tired muscles and you melt into the bubbles. Zuko pulls you towards him, letting you lean back against his broad chest while you face Geto, your feet on his beating heart. "Good?" Zuko asks.
"Yes," you sigh, content. "I am the envy of all women right now." Geto smiles, gently kissing both of your feet as you relax further into the water. "And we are the envy of all men. You made us feel so good tonight, love."
The praise fuels you the way the herbal-scented water does, making you feel brand new. In this little world with the three of you, surrounded by nothing but the bubbles and water, you feel like nothing and no one matters. Just tonight. Just this moment of bliss.
So you lean against Zuko's chest and hum with contentment, smiling when he tangles his fingers in your wet hair, allowing yourself to fall completely and totally in the little sanctuary your princes have built...even if it's just for tonight.
"The only question is whose dick made you cum more?" Geto asks. "Mine or my brother's?"
SPLASH!
Geto suddenly gets a mouthful of soapy water flung at him by his brother while you giggle profusely. "Get the fuck out, Geto," Zuko growls. "Or I'll drown you."
nearly maxed out tags cus i’m crazy and just have so much love in my heart i wanted to tag everyone but i had to condense so i’m sorry if i missed anyone also but just know i love you all so bad
also a lot of you i haven’t interacted with in a long time and i feel bad abt that🙁 and some ppl that i tagged haven’t even been active since last year or longer like omg pls come back soon i miss you guys 😣😣
OMG THANK YOU SM BABY I MISS INTERACTING WITH YOU TOO<\3
my most favourite people here🙂↕️: @cherryvvave @moviecritc @bloomcissa @cryptic-doe @rh1nestcned @lechelovestoyap @luviery @vianawaits @scissorhvnds @dreamersentity @kamislop @batwngs @sakunai @mystiquevoid @1nsignia @patientofarkhamasylum @arfemiz @froggibus @tinafication @bitemysin @torupng @brinawing @biovomit @evilmanhater @gr0und-zer00 (i'm sorry if i didn't tag someone, but know that you're very dear to me too<3)
i feel like i don't say it enough, but i love you all, and y'all are very very dear to me. here on tumblr i found the community i feel sort of belonging to and with who i have experienced peak girlhood♥️
GAH STOP THIS IS SO SWEET siri how do i tag all of my 150+ mutuals-
i'm going to tag some of my babygirls and if i miss some PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT PERSONALLY i love and cherish all my lovely mooties :( even if we don't interact much
[ content: crazy!reader, fluff (?), rage baiting sukuna, #makehispocketshurt, for my cutie pie @indiewritesxoxo think of this as a love letter ]
Most people never understood your relationship with Sukuna.
For the most part, you were a friendly, upbeat person—talking to strangers in line at the grocery store, talking up the baristas making your coffee orders, sharing recipes with call center agents when the call got too long.
Then there’s the big grumpy man that’s always standing right behind you, and he never fails to look miserable when doing so. Strangers will try to speak to him and he’ll either grunt in response or just pretend to not hear them at all. Same goes for baristas. The last time he spoke with customer service through the phone, the agent started the call off by saying they hoped he was having a good day so far—Sukuna got annoyed and grumbled, “no you fucking don’t,” in hopes that they’d stop with the pleasantries.
Overall, he’s just kind of a dick. They look at you and immediately think of some horrific scenario like Sukuna yelling at you for not having dinner done by the time he got home.
That brings them to the question: how do you two even get along?
And your answer to that is: you kinda don't.
But that's okay! You knew what you were signing up for and you don't regret it one bit. You love him, and you love making him angry. It's so easy, too. Who needs therapy when you can just stress him out? Exactly.
So you sent the text.
[You]: are you fucking serious right now? i had to find out from HER?
[My Husband 🥰]: what are you talking about?
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
[My Husband 🥰]: babe pick up the phone
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
[My Husband 🥰]: what the fuck are you even talking about? find out WHAT???
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
[My Husband 🥰]: BABE
[My Husband 🥰]: PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
Missed call from My Husband 🥰
The only reason why the phone calls stopped was because you blocked him, but he would’ve kept calling until his phone died. It’s happened before.
Soon you get a Zelle notification.
R. Sukuna has sent you $200.00.
Memo: unblock me.
You sent R. Sukuna $20.00.
Memo: you can keep your fucking money
R. Sukuna has sent you $20.00.
Memo: you can’t just tell me to keep my money but then pocket more than half of it. and what the fuck am i gonna do with 20 dollars??
You sent R. Sukuna $2.00.
Memo: and now you have 2, see what happens when you don’t appreciate what you have?
R. Sukuna has sent you $2.00.
Memo: what the fuck does that even mean?? can you just unblock me already?
You sent R. Sukuna $0.50.
Memo: no
R. Sukuna has sent you $100.00.
Memo: JESUS FUCKJNGCHRIST UNBLOCK ME
You sent R. Sukuna $0.01.
Memo: NO
You sent R. Sukuna $0.01.
Memo: we’re out of sugar and creamer btw don’t forget to grab some on your way home
Satoru Gojo, hockey prodigy since he was a kid, and number 8 for the Bolts. His dad was a former hockey player and coach and Satoru who picked it up immediately. he was perfectly in tune with the game.
He's bold, talented, and always doing something flashy. Not for a lack of game IQ though, he's perfectly in tune with the game. It was second nature, –practically first nature if that was even a thing. Sometimes it seemed like he was clumsier off the ice than on.
He’ll hit an opponent with the nastiest fake out all with a smile on his face. He'll a little cocky and some opponents found him to be arrogant but he backs it up with skill and talent. Most people in general would think he was arrogant if he wasn’t so smiley. He’s not all smiles though. He’ll get into fights if his teammate gets into one which will lead him straight to the penalty box. A notoriously good teammate. Sometimes seen laughing and giving his teammate a fist bump in the penalty box.
Along with his talent, he’s no dummy either. He’s very book smart and even opted to stay in school to finish out his last 2 years despite being offered to start as the youngest player in franchise history. He chose to have the full college experience and remain in school until graduating with a Bachelors in Physics. And that knowledge certainly helped in game. In the grand scheme of things staying back was also for the best emotionally. Although he's a terrific player he’s been known to get a emotional with all the pressure on him being young. Though he’s talented he didn’t have as much professional game experience as older players and there was nothing he could do about that. It’s not like he could just get older y’know?
Sure, he's academically inclined but common sense? Not so much. Sometimes he was pretty ditzy. Despite often being in the limelight and therefore, interviews, he knew what to say and what not to say but sometimes he’d get carried away saying stuff he probably shouldn’t. He’s also guilty of making his teammates laugh during group interviews or hijacking his teammate’s single interviews by sneaking into the crowd to ask a question or waving from a distance. Of course, this gets eaten up by the public. He’s in edits all over the internet. But he doesn’t do it for that. He’s a genuinely fun guy.
He loves his friends, wants all his teammates to be his friends. Not to mention he's good with kids, starting a training camp in the off season for kids at the arena to share his love of the game. He loves a party or two, dumb movies, and he loves to geek out about Digimon. Once fans learned about that he was getting Digimon plushies and merch thrown onto the ice after big tournaments like a figure skater getting teddy bears and roses at the Olympics.
Speaking of the Olympics, Satoru has just qualified for his first Olympic Games. And coincidentally so have you.You watched games often, you liked hockey and games were played in the same arena you practiced in. Of course, the Bolts’ games took priority in the big rink unless there was a figure skating competition or the local college team had a game. But in the back rinks used for practice that only other skaters knew about is where you practiced.
You’ve seen Satoru a handful of times outside of his games. You’d pass him in the back hallways where the practice rinks were. You’d get water at the same time. You’ve made a joke or two with each other in passing about the rink temperature of the weather or something before getting back to respective areas.
And today was another one of those times.
You were there practicing and he was heading off the ice after finishing his pre-warmup warmup in order to get ready and stretch properly without all the people in the arena watching or the countdown timer. And to get himself a little more prepared before the game in a little over an hour. You catch each other’s eyes in the hallway and you give him a little wave to be friendly and not disturb his routine, whatever it might be. His face lights up and he waves back “Hey!” he says as he walks over to you. Damn... his smile is so cute.
summary : being stuck on an island with your ex is every girls worst nightmare.. and it’s going to be your reality. think you’ll be able to put emotions aside and enjoy a relaxing holiday with your other two friends? think again.
suguru geto was everything you ever could have wanted and then some. for the first few months everything was perfect—nothing but giggles, flowers and really, really great sex.
but everyone has their cons. naturally you brushed them off at first, shut out the bad and only paid attention to the good.
then over time they became something you couldn't quite ignore.
he was way too possessive of you, among other things. it was something you sort of liked at first, made you feel special, wanted. but after the first time you woke up to 103 missed calls after a small girls night the idea that it might not be such an appealing quality started to circle in your head.
suguru knew how to use his words to his advantage—same goes for his dick. every argument somehow ended up with you too fucked out to remember what it was about in the first place.
gradually those carefully thought out words of his started to lose their effect on you and that's it, it was over.
the breakup was extremely messy, you not only had to get 3 new numbers but a new phone too, turns out when he said he'd try anything to get you back he meant it.
surprisingly the sole reason you didn't end up going back to him was your mutual friend shoko. she helped him minimise his 'crazy' and you not to answer any of those calls.
she's a great friend to all of you, you cherish her, deeply. except right now you aren't the least bit thankful for her.
"what do you mean he's coming?! COULD'VE TOLD ME THAT BEFORE I SPENT AN ENTIRE PAYCHECK ON THE TICKETS!" you stand in her apartment with your jaw on the floor.
she chuckles, "cmon, it's not as big of deal as you think, you two should be able to function like normal people—it's been months, i'm sure he's over it."
"really shoko? really? you told me a few weeks ago that you had to stop him from leaving flowers at my door. he seems so over it." you throw your hands up, displeased with her downright shocking attempt to calm your nerves.
while trying to hold back a laugh from how annoyed you are she defends herself, "hey, i didn't know he was coming until today, and technically i had no part in this—should take it up with satoru. he's the one that invited him in the first place."
somehow her argument manages to knock some sense into you.
you realise that you won't get anywhere bickering with her and you most certainly won't get anywhere bickering with satoru, he'll just make the excuse that he should be able to have his best friend there if shoko has hers.
maybe she is making sense.. you two can function properly around eachother, right?
wrong.
you've had a gruesome morning. constant anxiety from not just the overall stress of having to navigate your way through the airport, but your 'unfortunate predicament' on top of that.
that unfortunate predicament of yours is right behind you, queuing to get his passport checked—his big broad body that you'd love to curl up against for some comfort in this moment is mere inches away from yours.
you can be normal about this, you can totally be normal about this. the way you haven't said a single word since him and satoru met you two at the gate is incredibly normal.
shoko places a hand on your shoulder and whispers, "should calm down before someone sees you and thinks you're carrying a bomb in that backpack."
"i'm perfectly calm." you respond, your throat feeling like it was made out of glass.
"sure you are."
and suguru might be better at appearing composed on the outside, but his head is still full of you, you, and you.
it took everything he had in him to throw away the idea of slinging you over his shoulder and simply taking you home with him.
even if he was able to put the past aside, the smell of your perfume is a constant reminder of what he once had. that perfume was a gift to you for your birthday, gave it to you not too long before you separated.
a memory of you saying that you would 'save it for special occasions' replays in his head, making him wonder if, a — you consider this a special occasion,
b — you simply don't cherish it as much anymore,
or c — you wore it to mess with him. knowing you, all 3 seem plausible.
knowing you, all 3 seem plausible.
all four of you stand in complete silence, your other two friends keep quiet because they don't want to make anything more awkward than it already is, while you and suguru's heads are too occupied with one another to consider speaking.
by some miracle both of you manage to keep yourselves calm and collected enough to make it onto the plane.
even with your phone and boarding pass in your hand you've been repeating '32A' in your head since you walked out onto the runway—because adding another awkward situation like mixing up your seat to the day might tip you off over the edge.
"32A.. 32A.. 32A" you mutter to yourself as you walk down the aisle, head up and eyes glued to the overhead compartments.
and upon finally reaching it you find a worse outcome than getting it mixed up waiting for you in the middle seat.
suguru gives you a cheeky smile, "can lay your legs on me if you're planning on sleeping through the flight." he offers, patting his thighs.
you sigh, "i can't believe this." and put your head in your hands, trying to come to terms with the fact that this truly is your reality.
if it didn't mean anything, you'd accept his proposal in a heartbeat.. but it does, and there's no way you're letting him win whatever game he's playing with you.
you haul your heavy backpack up into the overhead bin and squish yourself into the small gap between his legs and the seat in front of him, all while he stares up at you, wishing he still had the right to place his hands on your hips and guide you.
"excited?" he asks, using the simple question as an opportunity to get a good look at your face. he wonders if anything is different from how he remembers it.
have you changed the way you do your makeup? did you switch the colour of your jewelry? are there any hickeys on your neck?
"mm. would be more excited if plans hadn't changed." you reply, staring off into space not noticing that he's ogling you.
he finds your attitude amusing, "you're not the slightest bit happy to see me?" suguru always loved to push your buttons, some things never change.
you're saved by the pilot's voice coming in over the speakers, the usual spiel follows—advertisements for the airline food, safety instructions, what do to in case of emergency, etc.
the weight of the day starts catching up to you after takeoff. without even realising it your eyes shut, neck relaxes, and you drift off to sleep.
you wake up to warmth and an unusual amount of comfort for someone sitting in economy.. and you don't remember brining any kind of pillow with you.
still half awake and dazed, you stretch your back—your face nuzzling further into the soft cotton you were sleeping on top of.
"e-hm." suguru clears his throat.
the scream that you barely manged to hold in would have been loud enough to alert the whole plane if you hadn't of slapped your hands over your gaping mouth.
you immediately lift yourself off of him—in fact you push yourself as far away from him as you possibly can, still gawking at him with the most horrified expression on your face.
"don't look at me like that, you're the one who fell asleep on me." he remarks, "my shoulder's numb because of you."
"what, you want me to kiss it better?" you retort, annoyed with yourself and of course, taking it out on him.
"wouldn't hurt."
from the corner of your eye you spot the elderly woman in the aisle seat leaning over, looking like she's about to tell you off.
"y'know, you two are such a beautiful couple. you should really enjoy your youth together instead of bickering with eachother." she laughs.
you begin to correct her, "oh, we're not—"
suguru cuts you off—he loves to do that. "thank you." he tells her, and then turns to you, "keep this nice woman's words in mind, she knows what she's talking about."
this is going to be a long, long 7 days.
"WOOOOOHOOOO!" satoru's the first to get into the villa you rented for the trip, he dropped his suitcase at the door and is now running around the entire thing getting first dibs on a bedroom.
and he's right to admire it.. in his own way.
it is beautiful, breathtakingly so. the gates are carved entirely out of wood, the walkway into it has so much greenery and so many flowers that it looks like something out of a movie, and the large window inside of it has a beach view.
maybe it was worth the treacherous uphill walk to it.
a real shame you don't get to look at it for long, thanks to no other than a certain someone who's already inspected every square inch of the place and is also somehow already in swim shorts and a hawaiian shirt.
satoru points one finger at you and one finger at shoko, "please please don't take forever getting ready, i'll leave without you guys, y'know?"
"we aren't stopping you." you remind him while digging through your suitcase, looking for some flip flops to change into.
shoko nods in agreement, "plus, i want to head down to one of those tiny shops we saw on the way. cigarette's are supposed to be super cheap over here."
he rolls his eyes and focuses all of his attention on you, "i don't feel bad for inviting suguru now." the most childish comment in the most childish tone comes from the most childish man you've ever met.
followed by what looks like a grown man storming off like a child. "SUGURUu! are you ready yet?!" you hear his voice grow more distant as he runs up the stairs.
you and shoko shake your heads, a few seconds of silence passing before she raises a question.
"how're you feeling about him being here anyway?" she asks, an entirely new look on her face this time.
"i don't know, it's awkward—obviously.. i do kind of miss—"
"knew it." she playfully slaps your arm, clearly proud of herself for simply recognising the obvious.
"huh?" you blurt out.
"sit on the thought for a few days longer, see if you're just deluded by the hot sun and perfectly blue water."
shoko has given you good advice time and time again, so of course you'll take it—doesn't mean it won't be hard though.
extremely hard.
that's what you'd be if you had a dick between your legs right now.
suguru's all sweaty, somehow his perfect hair hasn't suffered any consequences from the humidity—you don't know why you find that hot, but you do, and the way his arms look when he's.. well, doing anything with the volleyball currently in his hands, it makes you melt.
he can feel you staring. he's terribly losing because of the fact, groaning and grunting every time the ball slips just out of reach of his hands which isn't making it any easier for you to remember shoko's words.
satoru pulls you away from your thoughts by calling out your name and beginning to shame suguru for his horrifying volleyball skills,
"suguru sucks! it's impossible to play with him when you're as good as me. do us both a favour and help him out, will you?"
"i'm busy." you whine.
"busy relaxing?" he stares at you, blank faced.
"yeah? oo—reminds me i need to put sunscreen on." you say, more so to yourself than to him.
suguru's head darts to you. then to satoru.
satoru moves his eyebrows up and down, giving suguru a knowing look. "SUGURU CAN DO IT FOR YOU!" he shouts teasingly.
shoko sighs, "grow up."
you mull it over in your head for a few seconds, surprisingly settling on agreeing to the nonsense satoru suggested. "go on." you say, a hint of reluctance in your voice.
suguru immediately drops the ball in his hands, it falling onto the sand and starting to roll away in the direction of the wind.
the two of them knew exactly what they were doing, yet they're still equally shocked with your decision.
"only because you give good massages." you preface, pointing a finger at suguru who's now walking over to you with a huge smile on his face.
"only because i give good massages." he reiterates, pulling the sunscreen out of your beach bag.
shoko's head falls between her legs at the sight of the two of you, "i can't watch this." she mutters to herself.
you flip over onto your back while suguru squirts some sunscreen onto his hands, rubbing them to warm it up.
his eyes travel down your body as he does so, eyes glued to the thin string on your bikini bottoms—thoughts cross his mind about how easy it'd be to simply yank it.
unfortunately for him that isn't on the table.
cold palms hit your back, goosebumps forming on your arms at the sudden contrast in temperature, yet you quickly begin to relax as he starts working it into your skin.
his thumbs move in circular motions, hitting all the right spots—reminds you of something.
suguru's taking his sweet time with you, taking in the feeling of your warm skin meeting his again for the first time in months.
running his hands slowly up and down your back, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches how the skin moves beneath his finger tips.
those large hands of his reach your shoulders—you've clearly been holding tension in them, because the second he begins to knead them a mewl-like noise escapes you.
"yeah.. right there.. few seconds longer.." you plead, your voice breathy—oblivious to how seductive you sound to him.
"yeah? you like that?" he asks, his tone the same one he had used countless times when making you feel good in a different way.
"mhmm.."
it's silent except for the hum of the sea in the distance, which makes him look up, searching for satoru and shoko.
for a split second he thinks they've ran away from the two of you—which they have, but not as far as he originally thought.
he spots them splashing water at eachother in the ocean, shoko being visibly more annoyed than satoru is.
you feel him gliding his hands away from your shoulders down to an inch above your bikini, "careful."
in the past, there has been many times in which suguru has shown you that warnings directed at him mean little to nothing in his eyes.
but he’s on his best behaviour these days, trying to win you back.
the warm sun is acting as a blanket, suguru's above you giving you a massage you oh so desperately needed.
you originally had thought this whole thing would’ve been a shitshow, but you’re at peace.
until an angry shoko removes all tranquillity from your current state, the sound of her sharp tongue invading your ears, "one condition. i gave him one condition."
"what, what's wrong?" you ask before opening your eyes, in the process of lifting yourself up to get a look at what's going on with your best friend.
she clicks her tongue, "what's wrong she says.."
she stands in front of the two of you, completely drenched. water droplets falling from all over her body, hair fully soaked, and a very, very unamused look on her face.
it makes you and suguru burst out into laughter.
the uncontrollable kind where you're gasping for air as tears well up in your eyes, the kind that goes on so long that you're wheezing by the end of it.
shoko remains still and straight faced, her arms crossed as she watches the two of you find enjoyment in making a mockery of her.
"mm, laugh. get it all out cause we'll be leaving soon, i have to scrub my hair before we go clubbing. i'm not getting any women looking like this."
her words only do more damage, your body falls back onto your towel and suguru's holding his gut to try and stop cackling at poor shoko.
even through blurry vision suguru spots satoru laying starfish-posed in the sea with his eyes closed, letting the current drag him where-ever.
he grabs your arm and shakes you, pointing to where satoru's floating.
you think you're going to die at this rate, it shouldn't be this funny—but to see both of your friends looking like dumbasses gives you a boost of serotonin like nothing else.
eventually both of you manage to calm down, refusing to make eye contact with shoko nor dare to look in satoru's direction until you catch your breath.
all four of you slowly begin to make your way back from the beach, it doesn't take long for shoko to forgive satoru once he offers to piggyback her up the hill leading to the villa.
lightbulbs go off in suguru's head upon seeing shoko so peaceful wrapped around satoru's back.
he comes to an abrupt stop right before you all reach the hill, kneeling down and looking at you. "get on my shoulders."
there wasn't any way he'd let you say no and theres no way you were going to in the first place.
you waste no time and quickly place your thighs at each side of his neck and he gets back on his feet without any difficulty, as if you weigh nothing.
"REMEMBER, HOT SUN AND PERFECTLY BLUE WATER!" shoko shouts down at you from further uphill.
you wonder how much he benches… bet he looks even better at the gym.
you've picked out a gorgeous little black dress, very little, it hugs your body in all the right places, so who cares if your asscheeks come out at some point?
not you, but suguru sure does.
he spots you—and the black panties you're wearing underneath it as your heels click down the stairs.
satoru begins to start his usual whining, "finally, the driver's been-"
but is interrupted by suguru speaking over him, "what are you wearing?" there's a disapproving look on his face, he knows you look good. too good.
you can tell he's planning on picking a fight with you by the way the words fall out of his mouth. "a dress?" you scowl at him.
"a dress." he repeats in a condescending tone.
"you think you can go and do whatever you please since we broke up." he sighs, shaking his head. "this is what you did for those months i wasn't here, huh? went around letting men ogle you?"
he keeps blabbing on and on, it's always like this. it never ends with him.
a couple words is all it took to change your mood completely. you were so, so excited to go out in your new dress to an entirely new place—just to end up pissed off, storming out and slamming the taxi door.
you plop yourself in the front seat so there wouldn't be the slightest chance you'll be forced next to him. whether it's petty or not, you don't even want to see his silhouette from the corner of your eye.
on the drive over he's once again all that's on your mind. you don't notice the deafening silence in the car, the beautiful stars in the sky, nor the strong smell of cologne in the air.
you're equally as pissed of at yourself as you are at him.
cursing yourself for being so stupid, for letting yourself have the slightest belief that he could have grown and changed because what, he's been trying to court you the whole day?
shoko was right, shoko's always right.
the second the car stops you swing the door open and practically sprint to the bar, walking ahead of everyone else.
you walk right up to the bartender, order 3 shots and guzzle them down before your friends have found where you've ran off to.
"slow down." satoru says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
it doesn't work out in his favour.
you know you're being a buzzkill, but there's not an atom inside of you that wants to laugh nor smile right now. all you're interested in is drowning your sorrows in cheap vodka.
you don't move, don't react, staying as still as you were before he had came up to you—as if he hadn't said anything in the first place.
unbeknownst to you, shoko's looking at suguru like she wants to wring his neck. he's her friend, of course—but that doesn't mean she isn't contemplating throwing a drink in his face for how he's acted.
she signals the bartender for another round, and another. a few more and you stop counting. you drink them all as soon as they hit the table.
it doesn't help, not in the slightest. the music's only grown louder and more annoying, you're suddenly painfully aware of how uncomfortable the bar seats are, and you just feel like shit overall.
throwing your elbow down onto the table, you let your head fall into the palm of your hands.
suguru and satoru are talking a few seats down, while shoko's been whisked away by possibly the hottest woman you've ever seen in your life.
someone's already ruined your night—your whole trip for that matter, so you decide to do the complete opposite of what suguru's done for you.
you get back up on your feet, heading for the bathroom to prevent yourself from burdening anyone else with your sour mood.
you don't know how long you sit there for, long enough for you to overhear 3 separate instances of a woman crying at the sink with nearly the whole bathroom comforting her.
minutes go by where not a single thought appears in your head, and minutes go by where your heads full of them.
the cycle only breaks when you hear what sounds like your name being called. unsure if you're just deluded with the alcohol in your system, you wait to see if it happens again.
BANG BANG BANG!
the stall beside you shakes.
BANG BANG BANG!
now its yours.
you reach over and click the lock open, finding shoko a second away from banging on another girl's stall.
"there you are." she breathes out a sigh of relief, "i called for you."
you hold the door open, "not the quietest place in here if you didn't notice." you say, a small smile appearing on your face.
she skips the whole spiel she'd usually give you in times like these and gets straight to the point. "forget about him, he's a dick. let's go dance."
"its alright, you should go back to that girl i assume is waiting for you at the bar." you tell her, still reluctant to burden anyone else with your problems.
shoko's smile grows wider, "you seen? isn't she the epitome of my type?!"
"oh i seen." you nod at her with a smirk. "can i ask you for one thing though?"
"anything." she replies instantly. "what is it?"
"a cigarette."
after digging around in her bag for a few seconds she pulls out the pack and hands one to you. "gave you my lucky one."
"thanks, i owe you." you say, grabbing a hold of it by the end.
she chuckles, "shut up." you've been friends long enough to have abandoned the concept of being indebted to one another.
heading out of the bathroom the both of you go your separate routes, she heads for the bar and you turn into the smoking area outside.
you find a spot that isn't too crowded and lean against a brick wall, putting the cigarette in your mouth and abruptly come to the realisation that you never asked her for a lighter to go with it.
"fuuuuck me." you groan, scanning the area looking for someone approachable.
doesn't take you long, the section is full of smokers after all. your eyes land on a blonde, lanky man who's standing alone, not too far from you.
"hi, uh—sorry, you got a lighter i can use?"
"i do." he pauses, "in exchange for your name."
while you're telling him your name, laughing, giggling as the fire from the lighter casts an orange glow on your face, suguru's just walked in.
he doesn't notice you at first, just stands and enjoys about a quarter of his cigarette before recognising your laugh.
his head shoots up, looking all over the place until he spots you.
with a mans hand on your hip.
suguru taps out his cigarette— calm as ever, and walks up to you and your newfound friend.
you're making small talk with him when all of a sudden there's a heavy arm on your shoulder, resting against your collarbones.
whipping your head around, you find the one man you didn't want it to be.
"who's this? you replacing me now?" suguru snickers, looking the guy up and down.
the man in front of you is tall, yes—not as tall as suguru though, and definitely not as built as him either.
so, by no one's surprise, he begins to freak out. "o-oh, i'm sorry." he croaks, the sultry tone in his voice that he was using with you completely gone. "didn't know she was with you.. again, s-so sorry."
suguru watches him scurry off, a look of satisfaction etched onto his face. if he hadn't been so easily influenced, the situation would've gone a completely different direction.
a long sigh leaves you. "i'm not even going to argue with you, i don't have the patience for it, suguru." you turn your head away from him, too exhausted at this point to bother.
he seems to ignore you, "what did i tell you about these anyway?" in a flash, he snatches the lit cigarette between your fingers and puts it in his mouth.
if you weren't so tired of bickering with him, you would've commented on the irony of it all. how he's scolding you for smoking just to go and do the same thing.
"sure. take it, i'm leaving anyway." with that you try to nudge his arm off of you, it doesn't move an inch.
you take another deep breath.
a loud noise comes from further behind you, so loud that everyone in the smoking area turns to look.
"pfff.." satoru steadys himself against the door that he had used his entire body weight to swing open, "MTHERE YOU GUYS ARE!" he shouts, his speech slurred.
suguru finally tears his hand from you to go and tend to satoru, who's had more than he can handle.
the rage you've been holding in gets the better of you, "yeah, you go and take care of him. i don't need anymore problems." making one last snarky comment towards him as you begin to walk off.
he hisses, "hey, no—wait!"
thinking on his feet, he grabs satoru by the collar and starts following you out, pushing past people who's faces he can't make out. they're all blurry except for you.
a drunk and dazed satoru somehow catches shoko's face in the crowd. "I THINK WE'RE LEAVING!"
she gives the three of you a dissatisfied look and simply turns back to the woman she was talking to before he had interrupted, as if nothing had ever happened.
seems she's as tired of all this as you are.
looking back, you notice satoru being dragged across the sticky club floor first, and then suguru. "will you ever leave me alone?!" you spit at him, louder than you intended.
in an instant you feel 50 pairs of eyes land on you, only heightening your anger.
this is exactly what you didn't want. you didn't want to cause a scene, you didn't want to lash out and you didn't want him anywhere near you.
"calm down will you? lets talk." he's still using that slightly aggressive tone with you, which isn't helping him out one bit.
you speed up again, turning your head back to look him in the eye as you push open the doors to the outside, "i've BEEN calm, and that clearly wasn't enough—"
THUMP!
those goddamn heels.
as if loudly arguing with your ex boyfriend in a club wasn't embarrassing enough, you've now practically flown out of the place. twisting your ankle and landing on your side.
tears well up in your eyes—not because of the pain, but because you're so overwhelmed you don't know what to do with yourself anymore.
suguru can piece two and two together even though he didn't see the fall—unlike satoru, who's wondering why you're on the ground.
thankfully he doesn't make it worse by saying anything stupid.
suguru sets him down and runs over to check on you, kneeling down by your side. "are you okay? where are you hurt? show me."
"i—" sniff "—don't need your help."
"you do. look at you, you're crying." he gently cradles your face in his hands, wiping away the tears spilling from your eyes.
"cause of you." you say with a shaky voice.
then, and only then does it click for him.
he falls silent. realising it is his fault, everything that has happened, happened because of him. the anxiety, the loss of confidence, the anger, the hurt, the tears, he is the only one responsible.
"i…" he trails off, choosing not to finish his sentence. "will you please, at least let me get you up off of the ground." he says softly.
you try and go against him, attempting to do it all on your own. it doesn't work. your ankle is fine for the most part, but you have no willpower.
"please." he breathes, watching you struggle.
"okay."
he helps you get on your feet first, steadying your back and putting one of his hands in yours.
once you've stopped wobbling he bends down, wraps a hand around the back of your knees and picks you up bridal-style.
you're shocked when your feet start to raise from the ground, but you don't protest. you let him carry you as he tries to hail down a taxi, finding a speck of comfort in how he's holding you so lovingly.
one eventually stops for him, he calls satoru over and tells him to get in the front seat but he's barely awake. suguru again, has to drag him by the collar while still holding you on one arm.
he'll be fine. suguru hasn't seen even a bruise on him in the entire 10+ years that they've known eachother.
still carrying you, he gets in the back and sets you down on his lap, your back against the window and your legs propped up on the seats. his arm acts as a cushion for your back so the car door's hard interior wont cause you any discomfort.
he gives the driver the address, then hands him a large bill—paying upfront.
it's quiet for a while, not like before though. it's not awkward this time, not for you and not for him, you're more so just existing together.
"i'm sorry."
it comes out of nowhere, yet you don't feel anything upon hearing his apology. he's never been one to give them out—an even bigger reason as to why you should feel something, but you're just.. content with it.
"thank you." you answer, meeting his eyes.
"i mean it."
"i know."
…
"i don't mean to be so.. bad to you."
although you don't necessarily 'agree' with his statement, you hum to let him know you're listening.
the words he wants to say are slowly coming together in his head, "i'd say i'm acting this way because i miss you, but i always have, haven't i? even when we were together."
your brain wants to tell him he's right, tell him that he's always been like this and he always will be—but your heart wants to hear him out.
"i thought i'd be able to change. maybe i did, and maybe when i saw you again all the work i put in went out the window." you can see it in his face, that he's telling you how he really feels.
he's never been very good at that, always preferring to bend the truth to benefit himself rather than be transparent.
at least he's improved on one thing.
you clear your throat, "i missed you too, in case you didn't catch it. i know it doesn't look much like it."
giving you a warm smile, he cups the side of your face with his free hand and leans in closer.
"suguru.. we shouldn't." you whisper, your body contradicting your words, unconsciously moving closer to him with your eyes fixated on his lips.
"that doesn't mean we can't." his cold fingers move down to rest against your chin, gently tilting it up.
you chuckle at his reasoning, "you're such a—" your sentence was cut short by his lips connecting with yours. they meet for only a second—testing the waters with a simple peck.
another, longer one follows. by the time he pulls away you know this won't end with just a kiss.
it doesn't.
when suguru successfully gets satoru into the ginormous bed he had picked out, the moment the door clicks behind him you're against the wall opposite it in seconds.
his knee is between your legs, pushing up against your throbbing cunt as his tongue slips between the seam of your lips.
through your soaked panties your clit grinds against his thigh, you try to hoist yourself up further for more stimulation—but there's only so much you can do with wobbly knees.
even with his eyes closed he notices, of course he does—he knows the ins and outs of your body.
grabbing onto your hips and slightly bending his knee, he helps you move further up whilst following your own chosen rhythm.
it gives you some relief, however it's not long before you're whining against his lips. it still isn't enough for you, you're trying to tell him to just fuck you already without actually saying it.
upon hearing your plea he breaks the kiss, a string of spit still connecting the two of you. "which way?"using as few words as possible to help him catch his breath, he asks where your room is.
"the one by the window." you say, a faint smirk playing at the corners of your lips.
in an instant, you're scooped up. legs wrapped around his hips as he kisses the side of your neck—thanking your past self for choosing one of the rooms downstairs.
he carefully sets you down on the bed and begins fumbling with his belt, not treating it with the same care. the same goes for the expensive shirt he was wearing, in his rush to take it off the threads break and snap.
you only get wetter at the sight, seeing how desperate he is to get back to pleasing you as soon as possible has your thighs squeezing together.
because the little black dress slipped off so easily, you're left sitting on the edge of the bed in only your panties looking up and watching suguru remove what's left of his clothes.
by the time he's stripped down to only his boxers you've grown very impatient and decide to beckon him over, "sugu, come here already."
the nickname is one he hasn't heard in a long long time, he swears his dick grows harder from just hearing you say it again.
hooking your fingers into the elastic, you slide them down an inch or two to free his cock. it springs out of his boxers, laying flat against his stomach for a second before gravity forces the heavy weight down.
it's just as pretty as you remember it. long, curved, a vein going from base to tip—one you bend down to trace with your tongue, having missed the feeling of it pulsing in your mouth.
at the feeling of the wet muscle making contact with his pulsing cock he takes in a sharp breath, "save that for later." he hisses.
you pout, "i can't just have a taste?"
"you'll get one—every night up until we're on the plane home." he assures you, a large grin plastered on his face.
suguru's been fantasising about having sex on the beach for lunch and stuffing your throat full of his cock for dinner since you met in the airport.
looking down at you with low eyes, he pushes his boxers all the way down, letting them pool at his feet.
then, slowly, he pinches the lace of your panties and guides you to lay back by lifting one of your legs.
the fabric is carefully slid down your lower body and quickly discarded somewhere behind him.
taking your other leg in his hand, with his hands placed on the back of your knees he spreads them even further apart and coats his cock in your arousal, "this.. from some kissing? oh doll, you should've came to me sooner." he teases.
"suguruu, plea—" your breath catches in your throat as you feel him push into you.
he's not even halfway in yet and is already starting to blab about how much he's missed you,
"got no idea how many nights i dreamt of this. was hell always waking up without you, not having the power to make it real."
with every thrust he pushes his cock further and further inside you, until you've taken him all the way to the base.
instinctively, your legs try and fight against his hold on you—attempting to close, yet it only leads to him pushing them further apart.
"did you forget already? no running, no writhing, none of that."
the obsession he had over control didn't stop inside the bedroom, if anything it grew.
you don't know how to feel about the fact that it hasn't changed, but you're not in a position to say anything even if you had a problem with it.
not when he's hitting that spot inside of you juuust right—long, deep, sometimes upward strokes.
you swear he must be doing it on purpose, how could you not writhe when every roll of his hips sends a wave of pleasure through you?
all hope isn't lost for you, because the one thing you are allowed to do is moan.
"a-ahh! sugu..!"
"waaaitt.. not so—ngh—fa-haast..!"
"F--FUUCCCK!!"
you moan his ear off, as usual, but that last one might've been a little too loud.. "shhh, you want satoru to wake up and find out what a dirty girl you are?"
for some reason that's entirely unknown to you, those words have you feeling butterflies in your stomach, your walls tightening around his cock.
"oh?" he chuckles, "you like that? guess we should wake him up for you then.." reeling his hips all the way back, suguru's got the most conniving look on his face.
"S-SHIIT!" you wail at the force he slammed his cock back into you with. "nononono.. haaah.. didn't—"
"didn't what? didn't mean it?" his thrusts are now much faster than they were before, causing you to become a babbling mess underneath him.
"i'll even add in another sense for him next time, he can watch, ngh—you want that too?"
"n-no! j-just you, onlyy yyou!" it's getting to be too much now, your eyes roll to the back of your head as his pace doesn't stutter once.
"suguru slow—nhhhnmm—down! i'm gonna, gonna cum.." a breathless plea leaves your lips—one he doesn't listen to.
he keeps bullying his cock into your gushing pussy over and over, until you break. you cum with a loud guttural moan, clamping down on him.
"d-don't do that." he tilts his head back, his adams apple bobbing in his throat while continuing to drive his hips into you.
the fact that he hasn't stopped means you haven't either, your pussy flutters around his cock—sending him over the edge and filling your cunt up with his cum.
even as he begins to still, he stays buried inside you. "oh, i love you." he says breathlessly.
"mmnn.. love you too.."
shoko wakes up to satoru shaking her, and if that wasn't enough she's hit with a blinding headache and an overwhelming feeling of nausea only a few seconds later. "jeez.. stop.. im up.." she croaks. "i only got back like 3 hours ago.."
" i wiiin." he says in a sing-song voice.
"what do you mean you win?.. whaat.." she says, her voice raspy from the incredibly dry throat she's suffering with.
"suguru didn't come to bed last night."
"okaay? why're you talking about him like he's your wife?" her head not only hurts from her hangover but the extremely vague things satoru is telling her.
he pouts, "were you hit by a truck on the way home? 50. now."
"ohhh. that." she pauses, collecting her thoughts. "seriously? we've only been here like.. just over 24 hours."
"yeah, and i said 36. whoevers closest wins. you overestimate how good the advice you give her is, y'know."
a/n : if u havent seen the post i made on it im back in contact (after a whole year) with my ex bc of this fic LMFAOOOOO … its really not funny though i hate him
frat!sukuna will do anything to impress the shy!girl in his class >< !
frat!sukuna, who’s used to chaos—loud parties, copious amounts of alcohol, and music so loud, it almost makes you goes deaf, has no idea what to do when he finds himself slowly falling for the pretty, nerdy girl at the front of his class, always put together and perfect, you’re so out of his league it’s scary.
frat!sukuna, who tries to talk to you on his way out of class, stumbling over his words for the first time while you stare at him, cocking your head in confusion while the brick wall of a man stutters and rubs the back of his neck like you’re the one making him nervous.
frat!sukuna, who’s tries to make himself less intimidating while he’s around you, leaning over to hear you talk or trying to smile (which is off putting, albeit a little adorable in its own right)—he really doesn’t know what to do, because he’s never had to hold much of a conversation with anyone to have to impress them.
frat!sukuna, who tells his fraternity about you—speaking of you as if you were a mystical goddess, talking about perfect, gorgeous and out of this world you are, to the point that his frat brothers stop thinking you’re real.
“dude, are you sure you didn’t make her up?” toji would say, slinging his arm around sukuna while sukuna mumbled something about you being too good for any of them anyway.
frat!sukuna, who moves to the front of the class to sit closer to you, asking you stupid questions about the class and staring right at you while you explain everything trying to avoid his gaze, your voice hushed and nervous while he tries to commit your voice to memory inside his head.
frat!sukuna, who tries so hard to pay attention during classes now, answering questions because he’s hell bent on trying to impress you—to find common ground, paying close attention to all the little character charms, noting down everything he can, just so he can start stupid conversations with you.
frat!sukuna, who teasingly carries your bag out of class, watching you nervously fiddle with your necklace and the hem of your shirt while he yaps away, talking about how impressive your grades are or how smart you are while you brush off all his compliments and move to your next class, dragging your bag away from him.
frat!sukuna, who begs you to tutor him after he receives a massive F on his biochemistry test—watching you pile your notes before him, your eyes focused and so determined to make sure he gets an A on the next exam. because no student of yours is ever allowed to fail, and that’s when sukuna knew that you meant business.
frat!sukuna, who notices the way you glance at his tattoos ever so often, your eyes scanning them slowly, tempted to reach out but you never do and he notices, but he wants you to ask him to move closer, he wants you to make the first move so he knows he isn’t hallucinating.
frat!sukuna, who shifts closer to you while you’re trying to tutor him, his leg bumping against yours while you look up at him through your lashes—he finds excuses to touch you, brush his hands against yours while trying to pick up a pen, leaning over your shoulder while you try to solve a problem for him, it’s the tiniest things he tries to do to coax you out of your shell. it’s gentle, never pushy, just trying to lure you in so you’d stop being so wary of him, because gods, did he want you to like him.
frat!sukuna, who stalks your profiles on every app he can get his hands on like it’s a religion, and if you post absolutely anything? he’s there, losing his mind like an embarrassing fanboy in the comments, liking every post from years ago because he knows no shame, constantly finding videos of cute animals so he can send them to you, just to caption it “us?” (what a cornball eugh).
frat!sukuna, who has the filthiest dreams about you at night—he tries so hard to shove them out of his head, but staring at your pretty face all day did him no favours, picturing your gorgeous face contorting in pleasure while you’re underneath him, dragging your nails down his back, legs wrapped around his torso, your voice hushed and letting out the prettiest moans has him waking up, his boxers stained with his cum and sheets drenched in sweat.
frat!sukuna, who tries so, so hard to not stare at your lips when you talk to him—you don’t say much, and to have you talk to him is everything to him but he can’t help but wonder what’d be like to have your lips against his, his tongue coaxing your mouth open and moving against yours, only for him to realise he’s been staring for far too long and you’re staring to look away again, your head held low while he could feel a flush creeping up his neck, his face turning pink. fuck, he was falling and he was falling dangerously fast.
guess who’s finally writing a longfic for her 5k and working on kinktober huhu also i’m such a fat chud bro i gotta workout again
art credits :: @/to00fu.
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all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
suguru had you situated snug in his lap, your bottoms discarded and thrown somewhere in your room. you didn't care. all you could think about was the way his big hands had you spread, a warm palm splayed against the inner-side of your thigh while the other busied itself with your pussy.
his violet gaze narrowed, a humoured huff grazing against your mussed hair as he watched the way your back slumped against his chest, sinking down in such a way that it tilted your hips further into his hand.
you were being turned to mush from just two fingers. lazily dragging in n out, in n ooout. sometimes he would purposefully slow down the drag, draw out that delicious sensation and let you feel the way his fingertips curved up to prod where it felt best, feel the way you resisted letting them go as your hole greedily sucked them back in.
‟you love this, don't you? filthy girl,″ he snickered in that snide tone you knew too well.
it's not like he was wrong. it's not like you could do much, either, what with the way he curled his fingers particularly deep and elicited the sweetest whimper from you.
your own fingers engrossed themselves in fisting at his sweats, white-knuckling the fabric and pulling in jolts subconsciously. he noticed. of course he noticed.
and of course he had to point it out, ‟looks like you do. i'm jealous, baby,″ as his hand formerly at your thigh snaked up, raking his index across your skin and watching those goosebumps rise. gently, he took one of your hands in his, bringing it to his perfect lips and pressing a kiss to the smooth expanse.
"focus on me instead."
you nod meagrely, taking note of the way he had began pumping his fingers just that little bit firmer.
gradually, that spine-tingling drag of his middle knuckles against your squishing walls picked up pace. sometimes he would grind the tips as far in as he could, letting you feel how deep he could touch, watch the way your eyes rolled back and your tongue threatened to spill out from between your lips. it built up a sinful promise of release.
"sug—hnn... sugu', m'close," you choke out between your little sighs of ecstasy. that almost listless grin of his lengthened, his big hand squeezing your much smaller one as if encouraging you.
in an instant his thumb padded at your pearly clit, "mhmm... go on, who am i to interrupt?" as he circled the bundle of nerves.
suguru pressed in firmly at your bud, a lazy bout before keeping momentum with his bullying fingers. you could feel the way your walls clung to him, arousal leaking to his pants and seeping into the thick cotton. with rocking hips and hurried gasps of air, you sob out, "d—on't stop...! ohhfh... god— please,"
"i won't, sweet."
all it took was a particularly sharp nudge at your sweet spot before you spilled over, head falling forward as your weak frame slumped further down into his warm body. your head was spinning, the waves of your orgasm crashing over you with each mean push of his thick digits, now slick with your release, into your twitching channel. to drag out the sensation, he always claimed.
as you came down from the sickening sweet of your high, your head heavily rolled back, bleary eyes meeting his blown-out own. he looked hungry. like a fox being teased by its prey.
with everything that's happening in this life of yours and the impending war that's about to break out, you decided to pay a visit to the moon incarnation in the forest for a blessing. you didn't know then that the incarnation takes form in a human—man—who craves nothing but a company. ( 5,3k )
notes in red ... HI, i was supposed to post this three days ago, but i haven't been able to edit the layout, lol. i had so much fun writing this back then, even though i have some regrets on how i write it, too. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this one. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3
you've heard tales of the moon incarnation uttered from kinds of lips, kinds of humans.
in the deepest part of the forest, north from the kingdom, standing with all the glory that's curated in this universe, lays the incarnation of the moon, light of the night.
a solitude, a divine— people who claimed to have seen the being always use those words, although they who spoke of it always say the incarnation is far more enchanting than the tales that have been passed through generations.
people's tongues always get twisted, as they try to describe how the moon appeared before them, unable to recall the words they've been familiar with their whole life. no words can really do justice to the light that appears before them, is what they'd always say.
you never came as far as to this part of the continent, seeing no point in traveling far away to a place where there's nothing but trees and rocks; a nature that'll stay there, unchanging.
"forest of limitlessness" is what people have called it through ages, decades away before you're born. and there's two kinds of reasons behind the chosen name. a name that no souls dare to question because, well, it's befitting.
the first rule that lies behind the name of the forest is the very truth of how it’s almost impossible to find the end of the forest when you're walking through it, endless. as if you're walking through a maze, you can't seem to find a way that'll lead you out of it.
it's something that's important to remember before anyone decides they're going to the forest.
after all, you might get lost.
lost, unless the incarnation itself paves the way. the people who have gone there said that the moon incarnation whispers the wind to guide the people to where the light stays or it could be anything. a kindness shown in the surroundings of trees that's enveloping every space there is.
from what the elders of the kingdom said, it's said that people whose heart is a mist of dark clouds, having ill intention, will be lost in the forest as the light way to protect lives of ones that are worth more than one soul with ill.
every soul that is lost there is said to be shattered into pieces and find ways to another life, rewriting the fate that was set from them. in other ways, no one really knows what happened to the lost souls.
the other reason is the very truth that the moon incarnation grants any wishes that the people longed for. whatever they have in mind, it shall be turned into reality. everyone who came shall utter their limitless wish and let the moon incarnation do their part.
after all, the moon incarnation is a god.
you decided to go through all the hassle there is to see the light, wanting to pray and make a wish for a peaceful soul that's slowly but surely cracking under pressure; asking for a blessing.
it's only a matter of time before you shatter with this life of yours that keeps wishing for your downfall. so, you need the blessing of the god, the light for you to be able to continue this journey of yours.
when you finally reach the front of the forest, you're greeted by a mist. it's like a gate to the forest where the moon incarnation resides. your finger touch the mist before it split into two, paving a way for you to walk through.
may the god see your soul as pure as possible.
you step into the forest, then. the mist immediately tangled with one another, again, when you walked past them. you didn't pay attention to that, eyes zeroed on the sight before you. a normal forest it is. nothing more, nothing less.
this is only the start though. you haven't walked through it. and oh dear god, you suddenly fear being one of the many lost souls that are roaming around aimlessly.
every step you take feels like a nail on the tongue, it's heavy. not to mention, you're using your armor throughout the journey. both as your way of protection and to be used to any obstacle that might be heading your way in the impending war.
sounds of armor are echoing through the forest, filling the silence with nothing but sounds of iron clashing against one another. and it was then, after countless steps, when a flicker of light greets your eyes.
fireflies.
it's staring at you before it flies away towards the other side of the forest, making you blink in confusion. however, you choose to follow it. as someone said, anything could be the sign of the light ways of telling you that you're welcomed. that's why you choose to take a step and trail behind the fireflies.
because indeed, you're one of the chosen ones. more than that, in any ways that may exist.
you follow the fireflies to the deepest part of the forest, all the things that's surrounding you are moving in a way that's welcoming. the leaves, branches, grass, flowers, rocks; everything seems to be curating a gentle melody to your ears, enveloping you with belonging.
each step you take, a new animal seems to peek amongst the trees— carefully examine the human that the incarnation has allowed to enter the divine hearth of the forest.
in the corner of your eyes, there's a deer that's staring at you with their doe eyes. the deer blink a few times at the sight of you, sending a shiver through your spine. it's eerie, in a way. they're looking straight to your soul.
all the animals a human can think of are in your view, showing their presence slowly but surely. and you couldn't help but get entrance by the sight of these animals gathering in one place, living in the part of the forest that is only the chosen one able to enter.
the sense of familiarity tugging your heart with a warm that you've long forgotten due to the fear of the impending war. you, who've been nothing but a walking shell of what you used to be, in this moment, feels that you're regressing to the younger you whose life was a field of blooming flowers.
in the distance, your ears catch the sounds of water flowing. a trickle of a drop clashing and emerging into one is feeling your senses. your heart beats faster at the way it's wrapping you in a nostalgic feeling.
finally, after the walk that seems like there's no end to it, the fireflies that have been guiding you throughout the forest fly away, far from you. and the sight that greets you? a waterfall.
a waterfall that's as blue as the sky before the whole kingdom turned into an ocean of fears and smells of death.
your breath was stolen from your lungs the moment your eyes trail around the surroundings of the waterfall. if the walk to the divine hearth of the forest was as beautiful as the imaginary heaven you've always painted on your mind, the sight in front of you is a trillion times better than it.
everything looks as if it's a place that shouldn't have existed in this world full of ash, scatter of blood, and pain overall. it's too much of an enchanting place to stand on this earth.
the trees, grass, bushes are emerald green. a color you've learned in books, a color you thought is impossible to exist. the flowers, every kind that may exist, are blooming vibrantly; the scent of sweetness and nature enveloping you. the rocks are shining, too. it's gleaming in a way that has you questioning if it's really a rock.
nothing is what you're used to.
you couldn't help but wondering if this is all just a silly dream of yours. a wish come true as a gift from the moon incarnation, from your whisper of prayers on hoping for one minute of solitude.
it could be true.
however, the stinging pain of falling from hitting the log you passed by on your way to the forest is still as vivid as the sight in front of you. this isn't a dream. after all, you could feel your feet trembling after the long walk here.
a deer shows its presence to you when you turn around, hearing sounds of shifting from behind. it's the same one that was staring at you as you made your way here.
the sound of the deer soles against the grass scratches a part of your brain and you couldn't help the step you take towards it. erasing the distance between the two of you as your gaze roams around the deer that's now only arm reach.
you let out a startled gasp when the deer pushes you gently with its horn, making you walk backwards before plopping down on a nearby rock. it was supposed to hurt you, logically, being pushed down to a solid surface like a rock— but it didn't.
because logic doesn't apply here.
not in the comfort home of the moon incarnation, a god, even in whatever forms it might take. humans, animals— it could be anything.
"... don't tell me," you whisper to yourself, into the air. when the possibility of the deer in front of you being the moon incarnation flashes through your mind, fear washes over you.
a soft chuckle, angelic as well as it's smoky. something that you haven't exactly heard before in your lifetime, bouncing around the space. wrapping the whole divine hearth in a warm blanket. it sends a thrill through you.
when you turn around, the sight that greets you is a man, standing some steps away. he's standing there with the warmest smile you've been given for the longest time, glowing brighter than the moon you saw before entering the forest.
he's the moon incarnation, the light.
you stand up abruptly, your iron armor making a sound of clashes at the sudden movement. no words came from between your lips, though. you were too lost in the scenery of your surroundings, then you got hit with a soft blow at the appearance of the man that could lighten up your life.
it's not even "could", actually. at this single moment, this second shared between you two— he's really lighting up your life just by presence alone.
"to what pleasure, am i being graced by your company here, dear knightess?" he spoke.
oh, he sounded like home. the voice of the man standing before you sounds like the most delightful melody ever written, carefully threaded for the souls as pure as white to hear, with warm love.
a loss of words is the state you're currently in. years of learning the alphabet, tracing the letters as a way to be engraved in your brain, repeating the same thing for days seems thrown out to the trash bin at the sight of him.
you understand now the reasons people always seem to never know what words to use when it comes to describe him, the moon incarnation.
divine, is far too much of an understatement. ethereal, are lacking a hint of something to fully grasp the being in front of you— any kind of word that crosses your mind sounds like a mocking endearment to him.
"i, i’m … thank you for allowing me to enter this part of the forest … um, you …" you paused midways.
what should you refer to him as? how are you supposed to know how to call a god who's in raw flesh right in front of you?
the man let out a laugh at the sight of your flustered state, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "you may call me satoru, knightess. and what shall i call you, pray tell?"
oh, dear heaven.
you didn't quite catch his eyes earlier. but now that your gaze is settled on the ones that are boring into yours, you couldn't help the feeling that a part of you is melting into a puddle, boneless and unable to move; nothing.
well, to be fair, you're nothing compared to a god. how could you ever compete with a being whose existence is the sole reason why you exist in the first place?
he takes a step closer to you, eyes taking in the sight of the knightesses who've spent a long journey, facing countless obstacles to reach the limitless forest which is far from the kingdom that he guesses she's from.
one heck of a ride, is what a human told him many years ago.
you clears your throat when he gestures to you to take a seat on the stone that the deer pushes you to. you nod your head stiffly before slowly lowering yourself, feeling unsure on how to communicate with a being that's far on a different level from you.
"thank you, satoru." your voice came in a whisper, full of uncertainty. "you may call me ... just knightess, if that's what you're most fond of."
he hummed softly at your words as he took a seat on the stone beside you, gaze falling to the waterfall that's in the center of this forest. "then, knightess, may i be told what brings you to this forest?"
blinding. the man is blinding and he's sitting beside you. well, for some reason—that you're sure happen because of him—it didn't hurt you, in any way. he's shining, but somehow you're able to tolerate and adjust the light that's radiated from him.
if it isn't by his kindness, you would've gone blind the moment he came into sight. you really are losing your brain cells when satoru, the moon incarnation, the god, makes its presence known to you.
"... i came to ask for a blessing," you answer, glancing at the man whose gaze is zeroed on the view in front of you two. not that you can blame him, the scenery is like a painting by the greatest painter to have ever existed. this space is the painter's canvas, a truly magnificent piece of work.
although, technically, satoru lives in this part of the forest divine hearth. this is his home; a place where he spends the eternal life of his.
"a blessing, you say …" he muttered. a minute of silence filled the air between the two of you before he spoke again. "i shall give you the blessing you've worked hard to achieve for. in return, would you accompany me for a talk?"
talk. the moon incarnation is asking you to engage in a conversation with him? a god is requesting something from … you.
you blink once. twice.
it's quite an odd request coming from a being that can alter the world, but in a sense it does make sense. as a god, he has no one but himself. nature and all that comes with it aren't enough to fulfill the aching void inside him. the exact one that's gnawing at him when he thinks of the life outside this forest.
not that any soul should know of the fact that the one they came for a blessing is craving for an interaction— it's not befitting his status, his sole purpose of existence.
the god is drowning in loneliness.
"... i suppose i can do that, satoru," you reply to him after a while.
his, supposedly, name sounds foreign rolling off your tongue like an ancient language yet to be found. however, your pair of ears can catch the way it's threaded into a prayer to the air the moment it leaves between your lips.
the wind around you is blowing—kissing your skin—as his name dances along the breeze that's coating you in this feeling of familiarity and deeper to the sense of coming home that you felt earlier.
satoru's head turned to you, then. a soft, warm smile plastered on his lips. "thank you. i shall make it worth your time."
oh, you already have, you thought to yourself.
“how's the world outside of the forest?” he asked you, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
now, you paused at the question. shouldn't he, as the god, know of what's happening all around the world? he's the one being above anything that exists in this world. both breathing and what not.
he has the privilege of seeing what happened in the past, present, and future; the question doesn't suit him.
you pressed your lips into a thin line, mind wandering here and there to arrange an answer that doesn't pry into the mind of a god. it already feels odd enough to sit next to someone who should be anything but beside you.
much to your demise, one of the nature of humans that's hard to brush off is wanting to know more than they should. forcing both eyes and ears to gather things for the sake of satisfaction, for themselves.
curiosity, to be precise.
"shouldn't that be something you're able to … privy?" your brows furrowing, not knowing the word to choose in this situation.
the man's smile faltered. he didn't think that question would leave your mouth. then again, he shouldn't have underestimated the basic pinnacle of humans that made them, them.
satoru ponder your question for a while before letting out a sigh, his head turning to face the waterfall again.
"... it's a headache."
… a headache?
he glances at you, chuckling when he takes in the bewildered and confused expression that painted your face. your eyes are sparkling with the need of wanting to learn more, unraveling the truth there's to know about the man sitting beside you in the forest that's more than your mind may depict, can portray.
"the limitless knowledge of humans and this universe can send me into a spiral of headache," he continues. satoru's gaze roamed around the sight of the forest behold just for them to see. "although i am what you may call a god. incarnation, in whatever form there is, is the weaker state of me."
as you listen to his explanation, you can hear the faint hint of loneliness in the back of his voice that's crawling itself out. although, it stops halfway out of fear of being seen. after all, vulnerability isn't something that goes well with a being that's immortal.
so, even a divine being can fear something, you think.
"... does it ever get lonely here?" you asked, changing your attention to the way the tree leaves brushing against one another. creating a sound of ruffles in a soothing way.
the man beside you stood up, he paved his way towards the edge of the ground, close to the plunge pool. "what do you think, knightess? would you be drenched by loneliness if we were to switch places?"
his words tugged something inside you. it seems like he pulls a string that you never know is there. or maybe one that you never wanted to acknowledge in fear of feeling like a failure of a knight.
dread.
being one of the small number of female knights is something you're very proud of. it's a dominated male part of the world. the work as a knight is one that people would argue isn't befitting a female. the road is full of blood, sweat, regrets, betrayal, tears; all what many see isn't for females to pursue.
the feeling of dread from being alone doesn't stand side-by-side with what it takes as a knight. any knight should throw kinds of emotion to exist for them to be able to walk this earth with nothing to hold them back.
it's the very reason you always try to push away the feeling of dread whenever it washes you as you stand frozen while the thought of what's to come flashes your mind; the countless nights you spend wide awake staring at the ceiling; the days you find yourself staring into the endless horizons.
you're afraid someone knows this part of you and declared that you aren't one for the title as a knight. fear of someone saying that you're a soul who steals a place for someone out there who deserves it more than you. caging a soul that meant to be free.
silence, once again, shared between the two of you. each one battling with the turmoil inside them. it stays like that for a while before you stand up and strode to his side, kneeling on the ground as your knees pressed against the grass to touch the water and splash it around.
"they said that water holds memories."
he didn't answer immediately, mind repeating your words a few times before he spoke. "everything holds memories, not only water. both living things and non-living things."
"... like the mirror my mother passed to me which she inherited from my grandmother?" you look up at him.
the man smiled hearing what you said, feeling a sense of pride that you caught on to what he meant by saying that. "precisely. this very grass you walk on remembers the shape of the feet or footwear of every existence that have brushed against it."
"what's with the sudden talk about memories, knightess? are you recalling some?" he asked you. his gaze darting to you who's kneeling beside him, hand fiddling with the water.
"i'm a quite nostalgic person."
satoru's brows raised at your statement. a word that very much matches a human whose time is limited in this world, the other side of a coin to him whose lifetime is limitless.
it struck him, again.
he sometimes forgets that the people who visit this forest have only a little amount of time to spend compared to him who has walked this ground longer than he remembers. the life of your kind is fickle and fragile. satoru is the opposite of that.
like a fire torch, if your kind—a red, orangish fire—were to go against a storm, it'll be in the blink of an eye before it dies down.
satoru's fire is as blue as the shade of the waterfall in the center of this forest. as bright and clear as the sky during a warm, beautiful sunny day. as deep as his eyes that hold the beginning and the end of this world.
the hottest flame to exist, the hardest to put out.
"what's your most … favorite memory, if you don't mind sharing with me?" satoru reply after a while.
you blink a few times at the question, seemingly taken aback by how heavy the question is. and without you having time to stop and prepare yourself, a flood of memories came crashing down to you like waves washing the shore.
every memory that had come to life at some point in this life of yours had you rendered speechless, frozen in place. it's like someone forcefully trying to pull pictures out of your mind, your head starting to feel dizzy at the intensity.
it's like a share of your memory is an offering for him. another thing to give him beside your time in return for the blessing you had asked for.
"... it was when i'm younger, satoru." you paused for a minute as your mind portrayed the memory you're recalling. "the time when the field was still blooming, covered with all kinds of flowers. now it's just a field of nothing."
"a field of memories."
you open your mouth before letting a soft chuckle. right, everything holds memories. the ground of the field remembers the way your little feet roamed around it. the wind there still whispers away the sound of your laughter during those days— it's never really lost.
"what about yours, satoru? are there any memories from this long lasting journey of yours that stand out from others?"
it was a question that seemed impossible to answer. satoru has breathed the air of this earth as long as it has existed. the man has seen, heard, smells of anything that is known to humans. yet for whatever reason, there's a memory that's deeply ingrained in him, he can't seem to cast away.
his feet tapped against the grass as his mind traveled to the memory. "once, there's a grandma who came to visit me."
a granny? some old woman visits him? going through the obstacles of the path to this forest?
"i was surprised when the breeze announced her arrival to me. this place is quite far from places where human resides," he said. a warm smile tugging his lips as the memory plays like a moving pictures.
you listen to him intently. satoru's tone of voice changed into something of fondness, like when you first set foot into this enchanting forest.
"her soul was the purest one i’ve seen after a while that time. she was beaming with happiness and excitement. apparently, she greets every animal that comes into her view."
satoru laugh echoes throughout the forest after finishing the sentence. the memory has a special place in his heart, it seems. he's shining even brighter than he already is.
and oh, may whoever is listening save you.
because the moment you hear his laugh that's heavy with warmth, the way he shines as he speaks of a fond memory— you think that you're falling for a being who you know better than to place feelings for. satoru is a moon incarnation, a god. the two of you live in a different world.
your world has already been filled with nothing but pain and craving for a better life. you don't need the feeling of yearning for someone you couldn't have, you shouldn't fall for. you don't have the energy to walk through another torturous path of your life that you helplessly stumble into.
"the animals were delighted. they didn't stop talking about her months after she left. grandma left quite an impression on them." satoru takes a quick glance at you, his eyes trailing down on you from the top of your head. "she came to ask for a blessing for her grandchild that's about to be born."
satoru's heart beat faster. a tad quicker. the second he locked eyes with you, he felt his heart beating rapidly. it's enough to make it feel like it's going to burst out of his heart.
you're staring at him like he's the sole reason why you're here, your existence. there's stars in your eyes. sparkling in a way that makes satoru's heart ache and longed for your presence some days after.
he takes a deep breath before exhaling, continuing from where he left off. "it was her first grandchild. she wanted to make sure that her first grandchild had the blessing of the moon."
"that's ... very thoughtful of her," you whisper.
"indeed … i heard from the wind that she spent the rest of her life surrounded with love." he then quickly shifted his attention to the trees surrounding them.
satoru clears his throat. he turns around and strolls to the entrance of where you came from. "you should leave, knightess. it's never a great thing to stay here longer than an hour."
your brows furrow in confusion at the sudden change of topic. though it's quickly forgotten the moment he mentioned an hour. it barely feels like half an hour, what does he mean by that?
the man didn't look at you, his eyes set on the entrance. "time works differently here. you shall not stay longer."
at his words, you quickly stand up. your armors rattling at the abrupt action, causing a slight alteration from the calm and peaceful that's wrapping the forest.
it didn't take long before you stood before him, mind still reeling from how fast it had been and the conversation that was far from finished. it was only the starting line between the two of you.
although maybe, maybe it's better to bid your farewell now before you lose your mind and fall deeper to the warm light that he has shown you. the two of you aren't meant to stand by each other. it's an unwritten rule in this world.
while you're trying to gather your mind, he reaches for your right hand, making you startle and look at him.
his hair, whiter than anything you've seen, the true embodiment of the color white are on your view as he leans in to place a chaste kiss against your hand. it wasn't just a mere one kiss that he graced you with.
satoru's lips pressed softly against your skin as he mumbled words you couldn't catch. the kisses he sent you away with are on the back of your hand, your knuckles, your fingers, your palm— he kissed every part of you that there's to lay his lips on.
and you, on the receiving end, are standing frozen. the intimacy of the moment had you in shambles. every fiber in you screaming at the contact of his lips against your skin. the blood that streams through you suddenly feels as warm as the honeycomb your mother just harvested before you left.
before you're able to say anything else, the grass had already pulled you away from him. it's a gentle push, but still able to leave you letting go a gasp of shock. everything was moving too quickly, you couldn't comprehend a single thing that's happening.
you tried to look over your shoulder, but the breeze was blowing to your face. obstructing your sight as the hair covers your eyes. when your hair is finally out of your view, the entrance is gone.
satoru are nowhere in sight.
and you're left heartbroken, unable to bid him farewell and take a last look at him. you were taken away from the right of memorizing his face so you could engrave it to your soul, to make sure you remember how he looks when you're asked to paint a picture of him on someone's mind.
unfortunately, he didn't let you. satoru didn't give you any chance to grief the feeling that was just starting to bloom for him even by a second of the time that passed here. you're shattered on the ground, passing that phase of cracking slowly but surely, because even something as small as that— he didn't let you embrace it.
the man on the other hand is down on his knees. eyes wide as his body trembles while nature wrapped itself around him, transferring a sense of comfort. the water splashes on him, the grass is clinging to his body, the animals—deer, butterfly, rabbits—nuzzle themselves against him, the wind kisses his skin tenderly.
why, anyone might ask?
satoru, the moon incarnation, the light, the god had found himself entranced by a human he shouldn't have. he had defied the rules of the universe; no god shall fall for any being. there's no part of life where an eternal life can stand alongside a human whose life is always on the line. and even nature can feel how his heart is cracking.
he's doomed.
and he shall pay the price of the longing that came second after second, minutes after minutes, hours after hours, days after days, weeks after weeks, months after months, years after years, decade after decade, centuries after centuries— for the very truth that time doesn't really exist in his world.
while you, another soul amongst trillions, will live in the gaps of his mind and fill him with emptiness where there's no end. even when he already tried to disintegrate you into the air, telling the breeze to whisk you afar, you're left somewhere in his life.
because his mind chose to erase a little part of his long lasting life that has you in it. satoru doesn't want to live in misery and losing his identity as the god who lost his light when he's the light itself.
it couldn't happen.
then, before he even recalls and realizes it, you're nothing but a fractured memory in the moon incarnation—a god—mind. leaving nature and iron of your armor as the only thing left as the witness of the short moment shared between you two, the only thing that remembers.
after all, just like what the man had said: everything holds memories.
hi everyone !! i've seen some mutuals and some other writers on here already start preparing for kinktober and hopefully this year i'll also participate !! i hope to post every other day (ish) of october and i already have some ideas planned :3
this is just a rough template, all kinks / characters are subject to change. so, if you have any requests or things you might want to see then write a comment or send an ask and i'll see what i can do !
all works will be x fem!reader, im also going to seize the opportunity to hopefully write more wlw smut because that's actually what im much more confident / comfortable writing and i enjoy writing it far more!!
⤷ 𝓲n which your husband satoru is overly clingy with you, even after arguing. and now it seems like it runs in the family where your son is just as — if not more clingy.
𝓬ontents: hurt/comfort, canon sorcerer au where you and gojo have a one year old together, very suggestive themes and fluff <3
all you wanted today was some peace and quiet, but it looked like your son and satoru believed otherwise.
your baby was attached by the hip for almost weeks on end, which of course is expected at one years old. but his growing attachment combined with not eating anything you made for him and finding humour in throwing around his heavy toys had you going insane.
normally satoru wouldn’t hesitate to step in and help to make your life a whole lot easier when your son was being difficult, but he was sent on a mission for a few days which left you all alone. on the rare occasion, he would be more of a nuisance than help, but let’s not jinx that.
luckily enough, he was expected to return back today. so all would be fine, right?
however, you and satoru had an unresolved argument before he left – ironically about how he overworks himself to a dangerous extent. things were now very awkward between the two of you, barely messaging during his time away unless it was to update him with cute pictures of your son or your typical goodnight/good morning messages to each other.
❀
it’s late at night when your baby has finally gone to sleep, now just you and your husband. satoru being perceptive as ever, notices you’re quieter than usual and asks, “i can tell something’s bothering you, what’s up?”
“satoru, i’m worried for you..”
“worried for me? why?”
“i think you’re taking on way too many risky missions. do you not see how they’ll eventually burn you out?”
“that’s cute, but you don’t need to worry about me sweets. i’m the strongest after all!”
“don’t be arrogant with me right now, i genuinely worry that you won’t make it back home one day. back to us. i have nightmares all the time that i’ll have to learn to live a life without you because you pushed your own limits.”
“it’s not really arrogant if it’s true...”
you clicked your tongue in annoyance, “if that’s all you take away from that then i think you seriously need to grow up.”
“okay look, i don’t know what to tell you. everyone’s relying on me as a safety net for their lives.“
“but are you their only sorcerer? just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you’re the only one alive and working.”
“it’s not like they can always rely on the students to take on death missions which really are just a piece of cake for me. this isn’t just a silly thing i do on a whim. it’s my job. don’t you think i know the risks that come with it?”
“of course i know, but how many times have you promised me that you were going to quit or only stick to teaching now that you’re a family man? all of which were your words by the way. so maybe don’t keep making empty promises to me and your baby that you can’t even live up to.” your voice shakes at the end, falling silent as you wipe away the tears threatening to spill.
just as he was about to speak up and try comfort you, his phone rings. you roll your eyes knowing that when someone calls him this late it’s most likely the higher ups sending him on another mission. he sighs before answering, the timing could not have been worse in helping his case.
satoru tries to listen to the details of the case, but he’s more attentive to you — not even attempting to hide it as he looks at you. now you just feel awkward with his bright blue orbs staring into your soul.
“it’s a special grade curse abroad. they said it should take around three days.” he’s still gazing into your eyes, trying to anticipate your reaction. but you’re not looking at him anymore, now focused on the ground.
“just go, satoru.”
❀
“honey, i’m home!” he calls out from the front entrance, immediately teleporting back once the mission was complete.
“dada!” your son crawls out of your grasp and waddles over to satoru’s leg, practically jumping in joy.
“hello little munchkin~ you’ve been taking care of mama?” he lifts him up and tickles his belly. your son obviously didn’t understand a thing he said, simply giggling in response. that’s when satoru really looks at you, taking in your exhausted expression and dark circles.
“hi my love, how about you get some rest, hm? i’ll take care of him.”
“n–no, it’s okay. you’re probably starving right now, i’ll make your favourite?”
“nope. won’t be needing that. i stopped by the local cafe to taste test the whole menu, and brought it back to you!” with a swipe of his fingers the front door opens and reveals the food bags floating in. your greedy baby attempts to reach out to the nearest bag with his mouth almost drooling at the sight of his favourite desserts peaking out.
“thank you, toru…” you sigh in relief as you take one of the bags full of savoury pastries and croissants before heading back upstairs to your room.
you feel well-rested after an hour or so passes, now in the state where your body is half awake and half asleep. that doesn’t last for long before satoru barges in with your baby.
“sweets!” “mama!” they call in unison.
“uhh..hi..?” you sit up and reply, still in a very much confused daze.
“we missed you! well– him more than me..” satoru chuckles as your baby kicks his tiny feet around. he plops onto the bed and your baby jumps out of his hold and onto your stomach. you wince slightly but accept his little bear hug nonetheless.
“y’know what i just realised, sweets?” he asks, getting comfy as he rests his head on your lap.
“hm?”
“you haven’t kissed me at all since i came back, not even a peck!” he pouts and crosses his arms like a child. is he going to pretend like the argument just didn’t happen at all?
“seriously?”
“more serious than the birth of this lil’ guy!” he exclaims, pointing at your son who was now rummaging through the food bag from before.
“welp– guess you’ll have to earn it.” you shrug and pat his head. something in your gut told you that satoru wouldn’t make your life any easier today, so why not make him work for it?
“you don’t mean that…” he murmurs, looking up at you like a kicked puppy.
“oh, i do. now leave us alone. you interrupted my beauty sleep and it’s his nap time.” you lie back down and pull your baby into your arms to cuddle.
“i-is this the first stage of me being replaced? my cuddling time gets stolen by our spawn?”
“nothing personal, he’s just got cuter appeal.” you tease and turn away from him.
satoru of course wouldn’t take no for an answer, deciding to join you in bed and wrapping a protective arm over the both of you, his hold so strong that you knew it was pointless trying to fight it.
“hey! who said you could join us?!” you attempt and completely fail to wriggle out of his grasp.
“shh– let’s just go to sleep baby~” he uses that same tone that he uses for your son, making you huff in irritation. you would only let it slide this time since his mission most likely deprived him of sleep and therefore cause him to act like an airhead.
yeah. that has to be it.
half an hour passes by until you’re awake and fully energised, your baby starts to stir awake as well whereas satoru is still out like a light. you push his heavy arm away to leave, desperately needing the toilet and to shower.
you barely make it to the door when your baby mumbles a sleepy “mama?”, bottom lip trembling from one breakdown away.
“mama’s coming back, sweetie. i need to shower, okay? stay with papa for now.”
“otay..” he pouts, watching you leave. once the door shuts, you let out a deep sigh of relief when he doesn’t start crying.
meanwhile your baby decided to wake up his dad by crawling up his body and straddling his chest. satoru lets out a choked groan at the added body pressure but your baby deemed it not enough, beginning to slap his face on both sides awake.
“dada! wake up time!”
“ah– alright alright!” satoru instinctively reaches out to your side to pull you in, only to be grabbing nothing “hey wait a minute…where’s mama?”
“mama showah!”
“hmm, i see…let’s go check up on her, c’mon!” he scoops up your son into his arms and tiptoes up to the bathroom door.
you’re preparing a warm bath, pouring in the himalayan bath salts before being interrupted by bursts of knocking on the other side and a screeching “mamamama!” “loveyyyy!”. you internally groan for a good ten seconds before grabbing your bathrobe to wrap around and open the door.
“what is it now?” you glare at satoru, having caught onto his clingy antics that will definitely continue on further today. but he doesn’t answer. he can’t. not when your soft legs and the outline of your bare breasts are peaking through your robe (yes he’s that easy).
“eyes up here, perv!” you pull his chin back up to your face, clearly waiting for an explanation as to why he’s disturbing your peace once again. and oh, his look alone tells you that he’s so gone.
“..how about i leave him in the playpen and come join you?”
“don’t even think about it! now shoo!” you push him out and lock the door, leaving them both whining outside. this man was seriously going to make your hair go whiter than his by the end of the day.
“satoru…” your voice eerily calm, silencing him instantly. “if you don’t leave right now, you won’t be getting any kisses for a month.” he gulps hard, knowing what you mean by kisses in this context, and that you would truly stand by it.
“heh…we’re just gonna go then…enjoy your bath!”
finally you could wind down and relax, letting your tense body bask in the warm, bubbly water. you could faintly hear your son’s toy drums being put to use from the living room, but that was satoru’s problem now. and knowing your husband, he probably egged it on.
feeling much more refreshed and relaxed, you go downstairs to start on dinner. you’re preparing and chopping up the ingredients to make chicken parmesan when satoru comes up from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. even though you’re married, when he touches you like this, your stomach flutters and your heart backflips uncontrollably.
satoru sniffs your vanilla scent in before murmuring, “mmph, y’smell so good.” then plants slow kisses on your neck.
“thanks toru~” you giggle at how giddy he has you feeling inside.
“so how about that real kiss now?” he asks, god he was desperate for it (which you wouldn’t lie was kind of cute), so why not bless him just a bit? you turn around to face him and peck his cheek.
“that’s all you can get for now.” you turn back to dice the vegetables.
“i’ll take it, are we okay though?” he frowns when remembering your argument.
“we’ll see, i guess you’re out of the doghouse.” you can feel his smile against your shoulder. he opens his mouth to reply when your baby appears out of nowhere and tugs on your leg.
“is everything okay, baby?”
“mama play wiv me?” your heart could just melt right now. you wanted to pick him up and eat his soft, plump cheeks but you had just cut up chilli peppers and onions, a dangerous combo to even be near his face.
“heyyy!!” satoru butts in highly offended, “what’s wrong with papa to play with?”
“papa bawwing!” you struggle to stifle in your laugh, everyday your baby goes on to shock you with the choice of words he picks up on.
“ahem– mama’s making your favourite food, so later on okay?”
“dino nuggie?” more like chicken and spaghetti noodles…it’s not like a one year old would know the difference anyways!
“…yeah! so go play with papa, and don’t be so boring satoru!”
“i have a family of bullies…” he mutters dramatically as he hikes your baby up to sit on top of his shoulders, off to the living room and act out their imaginary music band for the 50th time today.
once you’re finished cooking, satoru helps to plate up dinner and place your baby in his high chair, who was thoroughly inspecting his bowl of spaghetti and cut-up chicken pieces. your mind was praying that he didn’t throw his bowl away this time, but after watching his dad eat up like there was no tomorrow he actually ate his food this time!
“y’know,” satoru speaks up and reaches out to hold your hand, thumb caressing your knuckles “i missed you a lot whilst i was away. the both of you.”
“we missed you too.” you smile softly at him.
“sweets, i’m sorry. i kept thinking about our argument the whole time and how i should’ve been more understanding.”
“i should be sorry too. i was being petty–”
“no. don’t do that. you were right, i talked to yaga about working less missions and he agreed.”
“really?” your eyes widen in shock, it almost sounds too good to be true.
“i may have threatened the higher ups with their lives to get there…”
“satoru!” you try to scold him but it fails as you end up smiling. honestly you hate the higher ups just as much as he does since they seem to be the root cause of maintaining the broken system.
“can you blame me? they’re the ones keeping us apart!” that was another fair point that made you giggle.
“can i kiss you now?” he asks when it goes quiet again. you nod, and when his lips are just about to come into contact with yours, you purse your lips. “babe! you’re so evil it hurts!” satoru whines making you full on snort out loud.
“mama me kiss?” your baby grins adorably, understanding one of his favourite words. and how could you ever deny him?
“of course mochi!” you place soft kisses all over his chubby face covered in pasta sauce. when you turn back to satoru, he’s still moping. “ugh, fine. come here you big baby.” you lean over and let your lips softly connect.
satoru, however, is on a completely different wavelength as he deepens the kiss with his tongue sneakily slipping into your entrance and sucking slow on yours. it was expected for him to be like this after three days without any touch, but in front of the baby? you can’t seem to pull away either, so maybe you’re not any better.
you slowly pull back when your baby’s grubby hands bang against the table, not before planting more small kisses on satoru’s lips. you have a theory that whenever you kiss in front of your son, he hates it. as it always results in him feeling obligated to stop it — or as satoru claims to be a tiny cockblocker.
“i may have gotten a little surprise for you while you were away~” you mention casually when you both have finished eating (satoru in five minutes and you in thirty because you were going on tangents).
“oh yeah? is it the kind that i’m thinking of?” he smirks and winks at you, which made you more flustered than it should have.
“don’t be so dirty toru, our baby’s right here! ahem– and maybe that too– but go check the fridge..” his eyes narrow at you even whilst he gets up, trying to guess what it could be.
when satoru opens the fridge, he’s surprised with boxes of limited edition kikufuku mochi — his all-time favourite snack since he was a child. it looks like you also stress baked as his eyes light up when they set on the homemade cookie dough brownies, doughnuts, trifle, and cheesecake.
“did i die and this is my heaven…?” he whispers, quickly brought back to his senses with a sharp slap to his nape from you. when did you and your son even get there?
“what have i said about saying stuff like that?”
“sorry, sorry! but woah– after i eat all of this just know you’re going to be eaten out so well~” he singsongs whilst ripping out the mochi from the package.
“oh my god satoru...” you mentally facepalm and shake your head, leave it to him to turn everything sexual. you gulp when watching how his tongue skilfully licks off the powder as he takes his time to savour each bite, shamelessly moaning every time.
“mmph~ where did you– find these? i need more of ‘em” he manages to muffle out with his face stuffed.
“i asked ijichi to make a quick stop to your favourite store out of town on my behalf! you can thank me later~”
“me mochi!” your baby exclaims and claps his hands, exactly like his father with literal heart eyes forming at the sight of more of the desserts. satoru breaks off a mochi in half to feed to both you and the baby, silently bribing you with food before you had the chance to say no.
satoru kept the baby occupied whilst you managed to clean up. although your son was not having it, immediately crying when he left your arms and leaving satoru on the verge of a mental breakdown as to whether his son already forgot his face in the span of three days.
finally, when bedtime rolls in and your baby has fully exhausted himself out, satoru gets to selfishly have you all to himself and leaves no time to waste. you get to flaunt your new baby blue lingerie set for him before he rips it off and shows you just how much he missed you. rounds later, you’re now in his warm embrace, his soft voice like a lullaby to your ears.
“i love you..” he murmurs, kissing your temple over and over again when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.
“heh– i love you more you big softie.” you whisper back, a wide smile ghosting your sleepy face.
𝓷otes: again didn’t know how to end this, wanted to write smut but i’m literally so ahh at it so hope this was good enough x
⌗ 𝓼atoru gojo coos you over the edge ! (˶˃𐃷˂˶) based off this (not a p!link), unprotected p in v, whipped!gojo, praise, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweetheart, angel)
the sounds in the once quiet room are obscene— breathy moans, loud squelching with each precise thrust of gojo's hips, and the bed frame thunking against the wall.
he's so deep inside you, you feel him in your throat. all you can do is claw at his broad back desperately, leaving angry red marks in your wake. "toru– ohfuck--!" you're struggling to catch your breath, "s'too much!" his pace is unrelenting, so the least he can do is talk you through it.
"m'sorry, babygirl, i know" his breath fans over your skin as he coos at you so sweetly, a direct opposite to the way he's fucking into you. "s'big, huh?" he's practically cradling you, holding you so close to his chest that you feel his heart beating a frantic rhythm against yours.
he pulls your face from hiding in the crook of his neck all to press gentle, reverent kisses over your flushed skin. "my precious girl," he praises, "doin' so good for me, my perfect baby" he moans softly when he feels your pussy flutter around him at his sweet words.
"there you go, you like that?" his voice isn't teasing in the slightest, all genuine loving words, all reserved for you.
that familiar heat is growing low in your belly, his cock hitting your g-spot only intensifying the pressure. "m'close– g'na make me cum--" you manage to breathe out some resemblance of a sentence, through his overwhelming affection and each word coming out as a moan, talking proves to be a bit difficult.
"yeah?" his voice is low and smooth, "y'can't help it, i know sweetheart," he rubs your arm tenderly, "gonna help you, okay? can i do that baby?" you can tell just how enamored he is by you, speaking to you and loving on you like you're the only person in the world, gazing at you like you hung the stars just for him.
you nod dumbly, not caring to ask what he means with how fucked-out you are, brain a pile of mush. before you can compute, he snakes his hand down between the two of you and finds your puffy folds, spreading them. you gasp, hands squeezing at his biceps. "s'okay" he reassures you, thumb finding your sensitive clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.
it's enough to make you cry out in pleasure, enough to make you gush around his cock. gojo groans at the feeling, watching your expression in pure awe. "i know, baby" his pace never falters, so close to the edge himself. "there you go, let it all out–" his balls tighten up as he hits his peak, still holding you close, wanting there to be no space between the two of you. he fucks into you a few last times while spilling his warm release deep inside of you, a heady feeling.
he nearly pants, not bothering to pull out when he flops down beside you and pulls you to lay on his chest. you're worn out, and thoroughly satisfied. "did so good, sweet girl" he's smiling, cooing at you and scratching your back soothingly. you simply hum in response, words failing you.
he lets out a chuckle, "my sleepy angel..." his cheesy words could make you laugh if you weren't so spent, so you settle on curling into the comfort of him further, letting him pamper you with his voice.
as you both doze off, you swear you can hear him whisper a little "love you", and you know he means it. because you're all his, and he's all yours.
pairing: jjk men x fem!reader
꒰ satoru, suguru, sukuna, nanami, toji ꒱
𝓢ATORU GOJO
trust me this guy is going all out. he would so wear a white lacy bra, sometimes sticking out his luxurious shirts. he tightens the straps to the max and loves the push up it gives him.
every time he comes back from victoria’s secret, he wants to match! he’s so considerate to buy you one, too!— “look what i got for you, sweets!”
“another bra?” you sigh, tucking hair behind your ear. he tsks, holding the bag out for you to reach.
“you know me so well. go, try it on.” he grins mischievously— turning away on his heel as he watches look through the bag from the corner of his beautiful blue eye.
“a thong too? satoru gojo, this must’ve cost a fortune. stop doing this for me. and you got the exact same?” you mutter, not minding the sentiment at all, but still being wary of how much he spends on this stuff.
“it doesn’t matter, angel. promise.” he turns around, staring into your eyes, suddenly trying to convince you money grows on trees.
you raise an eyebrow, walking into your shared bedroom. you remove all of your clothes, grabbing the lingerie from the bag, slipping the fabric onto your form.
you had to admit, you loved the way the fabric shaped you. satoru always chooses well. an idea pops into your head and you smirk at the thought.
you were going to wear those super tall heels that you got that make you like 6ft. last time you wore those in front of satoru, he lost his mind and his pants after he cummed in them.
plus, what better time to fuck than 1:23 in the afternoon. lunch time, the musky taste of sex n cum on the menu. . . ?
while he’s pushing cum deep into your wet cunt, he makes sure the lace lingers on your skin. he knew it was going to result in this, so he put on the bra just for you. why wear it if your gorgeous girlfriend isn’t gonna feel it?
𝓢UGURU GETO
oh, he would definitely go with something soft and silky. something that would match the color of his eyes. something purple that would make him drop to his knees if he ever saw you wearing an identical one.
i mean, the guy runs a cult. he only needs the best of the best.
so you’re surprised when he appears behind you, moving his arm so the bag is laying lazily in his hand.
“look what i got you. i saw it and thought of you.” you smile, working through the wrapping of the bag with careful caution. it looked expensive.
“..a bra? suguru, where’d you get this from?”
“victoria’s secret, darling. i even bought myself the same one.” you raise an eyebrow, placing the bag on a nearby table.
“right, right. so you. . . bought a bra for yourself.” a small smirk runs up your lips.
“i did. i can even show you if you would like.” he pulls down the tiniest bit of his robes, the purple fabric peeking through under his tanned, long fingers.
“woah, i didn’t ask you to. buuuut i’m not necessarily complaining.” you stare at his chest, hypnotised by the royal shade of purple.
a smirk graces his features. he closes his eyes, as if he was proud.
“god. . .” you bite your lip, so so close to drawing blood.
𝓡YOMEN SUKUNA
sukuna would like to experience with tighter and prettier bras, but it’s simply incapable for him to do so right now. there is simply not a second where he isn’t fighting, and he needs comfort to hold up his full boobs.
a sports bra with padding simply does the trick, but he loves spoiling you with extravagant and extra bras, just because he knows you love them. but he’s been having his doubts recently. he wants to match with his beloved.
you thought he went to go fight. turns out he went to victoria’s secret to buy (two) pretty sports bras so you could match.
“look at this. i got you something. . . lightweight. something we can wear together.” he blinks, handing you the light pink striped bag.
“sukuna, what the fuck is this. why are you shopping around in victoria’s secret, and why are there two sports bras in this?” you raise an eyebrow, shifting your weight.
“is it not obvious? you’re really gonna make me say it?” he rolls an eye, crossing his arms.
a switch clicks in your head, and a wide smirk crawls across your plush lips.
“oh, absolutely not, sukuna! i have got totally no idea what two bras are supposed to show me! oh, i’m so ditzy and stupid!” you grin, and sukuna huffs at the obvious exaggeration.
“fine. i got one for me, and one for you. happy?”
“very.” you tsk, pushing hair off your shoulder.
“i want to see it on you. strip.” he puts his hands on his hips, waiting for you.
“right here?” you raise an eyebrow, not half repulsed by the request.
he nods, motioning for you to remove your clothes.
you do so, and you feel his eyes boring holes into your chest. you take off your shirt and bra, tossing the flimsy, cheap old thing to the floor. you slip the bra over your head, and when you do, sukuna inches closer until you’re chest to chest and face to face.
“it looks amazing. fits like a glove. but i do think it would look better off, or rather when we’re both wearing it together.” he stares into your eyes, crimson gaze catching onto yours.
𝓚ENTO NANAMI
he doesn’t usually do these things. if he ever did get a bra for himself, it would be tight, and frilly with a bunch of steps to get it over your head. the strap ones.
while shopping to buy a new first aid kit, his eyes catch on the victoria’s secret store in the same mall, a bra practically from his dreams appearing on one of the shelves.
he walks in instantly, grabbing two of the bras by mistake. he only realises when it’s time to check out. expensive, he thinks. especially for one bra.
until he’s at the front door, and it isn’t one bra at all! two frilly and pretty bras lay in the bag, and he rubs his temples, knocking on the door.
you open the door, greeting him. hold on. something’s not right. why does he have a victoria’s secret bag in his hands?
“ken, baby, what is that?” you inquire, closing the door as he walks into your shared house.
“it’s a long story. i’ll tell you everything when we sit down.” his voice is (not) unusually stern.
you take a seat, inviting him to do so as well.
he follows you, taking a seat the opposite of you.
his explanation is. . . definitely lengthier than his cock, if you know what i mean. and it kinda doesn’t add up in the end. he saw a bra and liked it, got it for himself, but ended up getting two by accident?
“right. what are you going to do with the extra bra?” you tilt your head, resting it on your palm.
“well, i’m not sure. take a look. maybe you’ll want it, sweetheart.” he sighs, holding out the bag to you.
you take it, browsing through the extravagant tissue paper, only to grab out a whimsical yellow laced bra, with literally every single accessory on the sides.
“well, i do like it, that’s for sure. i’ll be taking this.” you giggle, laying the bra on your thighs.
“here’s your one.” you throw the second bra at him, and he catches it with agility.
“be careful. that was expensive.”
you huff, watching him as he struggles with the clasp.
“fuck.”
he huffs, clipping the bra on his chest through his clothes.
“looking good, kento.” you tease, quietly laughing to yourself.
𝓣OJI FUSHIGURO
you really expected the broke guy to buy you a bra? please, he can barely afford a meal for the day, and you think he's spending money on bras from victoria's secret? he can't even afford the thrift store ones. with a whopping 228.20 yen in his bank account, the only slightly luxurious pretty thing he can get you is lip gloss. and not even the good type.
but if he really really wanted a bra, he would go through your ones. he likes them dirty and funky n all used.
which is what he does.
while you're occupied with groceries, he's going through your bras. ranking them.
and while he's wrapped up in all that. . . fun, he has the bright idea to slip one on. a dark crimson pushup catches his eye.
to his surprise, it fits perfectly, pushing his man boobs straight up.
“what the fuck? what is this?” he stares at his own chest in the mirror, mesmerized by the sight.
he's way too occupied at staring, and he doesn't notice your keys jingling.
you set the groceries on the table, calling for him.
“toji? where are you?” you call out.
“fuck!” he mutters, doing his best to throw the bras back into the dresser.
he manages to put away all the bras, but by the time you're in the room, it's too late.
.✦ ݁･˖ ℛ.𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 ݁･✧˚. would stay inside his pretty wife, forever if he could. 𝟏𝟖 + 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ꒰Fem!reader ⋮⋮ Trueform!Sukuna ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ belly bulge ⋮⋮ intimate sex ⋮⋮ kissing꒱
Sukuna’s chamber was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a single oil lamp that burned low on the far table. The faint glow of flickering flames danced across the wide futon. You're laying on your back in the center of the silk sheets, thighs spread wide around Sukuna’s powerful hips.
The weight of him presses you deep into the bedding, four massive arms caging you in, four crimson eyes stay locked on your face with an intensity that steals your breath with every passing moment.
One of his massive cocks fills your cunt, stretching you open so completely that every tiny shift of his body sends jolts of overwhelming fullness through you. He's been inside you for so long that you've lost all sense of time.
It feels like hours his cock has been keeping you full, letting you feel every inch of him. The burn in your muscles deepening with every breath. Your legs tremble from holding the position you're in.
Sweat cools on your skin. Tiny droplets tracing paths down your sides. Yet the heat radiating from Sukuna wraps around you like a living flame, keeping you warm, while his first cock rests heavy and thick against your tummy. Its warmth seeping into your skin where the fat head is nestled perfectly in the soft dip of your navel. Thick, sticky precum dribbles steadily from the slit, filling that little hollow and spills over where the taut skin beneath your belly grows warmer from inside out. The sensation makes your breath hitch.
You can feel the way your own pussy drips around his second cock, sweet juices soaking his girth and the sheets below with every flutter of your walls. Sukuna felt every little pulse, every flutter of your walls around his massive length. Your cunt's molded itself to him now, gripping him tightly and welcomes him deeper with each subtle shift as you clench helplessly around his massive length, pulsing and squeezing as if trying to pull him in even deeper.
Your fingers are fisted tight in the silk sheets, knuckles white, the fabric's scrunched up in your palms so hard that if you let go, the imprints of your grip would remain. Every muscle in your body felt deliciously sore already. The kind of ache you knew would linger tomorrow and remind you exactly who had claimed you so thoroughly.
Sukuna moves with aching gentleness. He fucked his cock into you slowly. Just a little more with each rock of his hips, pushing a little deeper, then easing back only to press forward again. Every thrust paired with a tender-rough kiss to your neck. He's sucked purple kisses into your skin, marked you as his, over and over again, he can’t help himself.
This was one of those long nights, where he had you right where he wanted you. His version of making love to his sweet wife involved this slow worship. He kissed your beautiful skin. He felt your warmth and revelled in the pace of your heartbeat under his palm. The way your blood circulated throughout your body hypnotized him. It captivated him completely alongside the tight constricting heat of your cunt around his cock.
Wet squelches were significantly audible now, sopping wetness that flowed out thickly from your cunt, made them most prominent in the quiet room. He loved those lewd noises. He loved the scent of you even more. The warm salt of your skin. The sweetness of your hair and the sweet, heady aroma of your arousal that hung thick in the air around you both. His eyes traced every detail of you.
The heat across your cheeks. The way your lips trembled. The subtle sheen of sweat making your breasts glisten. He noticed how your nipples peaked in the cool air, noticed the rapid rise and fall of your chest. The soft thrumming of your heartbeat under his fingertips calmed him. Love made him drink in all of it. You were his. Utterly and perfectly his.
By now, you started to whine as the pressure built unbearably.
“s'too much...haaah...Sukuna-” The words left your lips high pitched and dazed. Voice coming out soft and breaking on little incoherent babbles when another slow thrust nudged his thick cockhead against that deep, sensitive gummy-soft spot inside you.
Sukuna shushed you gently, lips brushing your ear. “Shh, little wife. I know. I know it stretches you so full. But you are taking me so well. Just a little more. Let me feel you.”
His crimson eyes drank in every detail of your face, the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips parted on little gasps as he rocked into you more intentionally but tenderly. He knew he was big. Everything about him was. He always tried so hard not to overwhelm you. Yet the stretch of his huge cock already did that. Your body always tried its hardest to take him. It fluttered and clenched around him. You wanted to cum.
The need to is excruciating but his resilience held him back from fucking you roughly. He wanted to savor you first and only then he'd make sure to fill you full with his cum, and leak him for days. Pump load after load into you and watch your lower tummy swell with him. It was always so much. It always had been and always will be.
Right now, he savoured you. You kept taking him deeper and deeper, then his gaze left your face. He looked down at your body, eyes focused on your breasts. The slight movement of them every time you heaved for air entranced him.
The way Sukuna took his time was excruciating. One of his lower hands trailed from your shoulder down your sweat-slicked skin, cupping the soft weight of your breast. He stroked it tenderly, thumb brushing over the nipple before pinching it lightly and tugging the stiff bud. It grew firmer instantly under his touch, so sensitive and soft.
You arched with a quiet cry, and Sukuna groaned low in his throat as he leaned forward to capture your nipple between his lips, mouth closing around it tenderly as he sucked gently at first, with slow devotion. Then harder, tongue swirling and teasing around the taut bud while his hips continued those shallow, devastating thrusts.
Pleasure coiled tighter inside you. Slowly, his hands moved down, two big palms finding purchase on your soft curves. His eyes followed the expanse of your body as he gripped your waist lightly, both thumbs pressing on the swell there, his first cock still resting on your lower tummy, smearing thick, warm precum on your skin.
He massaged the sticky mess, thumbs rubbing slow circles on your bloated lower tummy. Feeling his other cock under your skin, shift as he moved and began fucking into you deeper with purpose, now that he had a proper hold on you. Pulling you down on his cock to meet his thrusts.
You cried out. It felt so good, yet it was too much. The fat tip of his cock meeting the puckered tight entrance of your cervix, bullying it sweetly. More and more, it yielded gradually. You felt him so deep. So impossibly deep. Body trying so hard to take him. Your walls fluttered and clenched, milking his thick cock with every movement. The pressure built inside you, excruciatingly perfect, until it finally broke.
The intensity crashed over you. You came hard, body shaking as your pussy milked his cock with powerful spasms. Sweet juices gushing around him. Sukuna's control finally snapped. He held you tighter, four arms wrapping around your trembling body as he fucked into you with desperate, deep strokes claiming you completely.
His second cock rubbed hot and heavy against your tummy, smearing more precum across your skin. With a guttural growl he buried himself to the hilt and came. Heavy pulses of thick cum flooded the narrow channel of your cunt. So much of it. Your lower belly swelled visibly with the warmth of him. You felt every spurt, every throb, walls milked him greedily, drawing out every drop as he emptied himself inside you.
He stayed buried deep, arms cradling you close while the last tremors ran through both of you. His forehead pressed to yours. Crimson eyes soft in the dim light as he looks at you with something close to wonder.
“My perfect wife,” he murmured, voice rough and low. One hand stroked your swollen tummy, he pressed gently feeling the evidence of his release there. “So full of me. So good for me, always.”
You whimpered softly. Your cunt still fluttering around his cock. Yet you smiled up at him, arms wrapping around his neck. Sukuna kissed you slow and sweet, savouring the taste of your lips. The warmth of your breath. The way your body yielded so completely to his. He noticed the way your lashes brushed your cheeks when your eyes closed. He noticed the faint tremor in your thighs still wrapped around him. Noticed how your pulse slowed under his palm. Every detail etched itself into him. His wife. His light in the endless darkness.
He would stay like this for a while longer, still warm against and inside you, savouring every pulse, every shared breath, every quiet moment where the King of Curses could simply hold his beloved wife and feel utterly at peace. Outside, the night continued on. Inside, wrapped in each other, time held no meaning. Only love and the burn of pleasure remained.
You're a scientist working on pandora, you knew Tom Sully before Jake was sent in as his replacement, how could someone like him, ever replace your Tom?
ಇ.content & warnings: Based on Avatar 1's storyline before jake met neytiri :: Jake's Avatar form x FemHuman!y/n :: porn with plot :: Tom Sully mentioned :: enemies to lovers :: brief mention's of avatar scientific biology etc :: size difference :: oral f. rec :: tongue fcking :: fingering :: p in v :: making it fit :: mutiple-orgasms :: cervical kissing :: overstimulation :: improper use of kuru :: c-pied :: kissing :: a bit of angst ::
ಇ.author's note: wrote this earlier in the beginning of the year & i loved writing this sm.
The lab lights hum low and sterile above you, that same cold blue-white glow that’s been burning your retinas for three straight years. You’re hunched over the biobed diagnostics panel, fingers trembling just enough that the holo-readings flicker when you swipe too hard. Tom’s chart is still open—his Avatar’s vitals frozen on the day he died, because you can’t bring yourself to archive it. The neural link logs glow accusingly: last sync 2148-05-21, 03:47a.m. You were the one who signed off on the shutdown.
You hear the hiss of the pressure door before you see him.
Jake Sully rolls in—wheelchair tires whispering over the grated floor, shoulders broad in a way that makes your stomach twist because it’s Tom’s shoulders, Tom’s face, Tom’s everything except the eyes. Those are harder. Hungrier. Less patient. He stops a few feet from the console, doesn’t bother with a hello.
“You’re the one who loved him.”
Not a question. A statement. Like he already read the autopsy report on your heart.
You don’t look up. Your voice comes out flat and hollow. “I’m the one who worked with him. Big difference.”
“Norm said you two were close.” His voice sounds rougher than Tom’s ever was, like gravel dragged over silk. “Said you cried when they told you about the mugging. About the bullet.”
Your jaw locks so hard your teeth ache. The holo-screen blurs. You can still see it—Tom’s body on the pavement outside the bar, blood spreading dark under streetlights. Some desperate junkie with a cheap gun who didn’t even know what he was taking. Tom, who never hurt anyone, gone in seconds. And now this stranger wearing his face sits here like it’s nothing.
“Get out.”
He doesn’t move. Instead he rolls closer—close enough that you catch the faint scent of antiseptic and cheap Earth soap clinging to him, nothing like the clean lab smell Tom always carried after a shower. Jake’s gaze drags over your lab coat, lingering on the way your fingers stay white-knuckled around the edge of the panel.
“I’m not here to replace him,” he says quietly. “I’m here because they won’t let me say no. And because this—” he gestures vaguely at the link chairs, at the long blue bodies suspended in their tanks behind the glass “—this is the only shot I’ve got at walking again. Marine Corps didn’t exactly hand out refunds when the spine went.”
You finally turn. Mistake—.
He’s staring right at you, cerulean eyes so close to Tom’s it hurts, but there’s something raw flickering behind them. Something that makes your chest cave in with grief even as anger flares hot and bright. He notices. Of course he does.
“You hate me already,” he murmurs, almost resigned. “That’s fair.”
“Fair?” The word comes out like a slap. “You think sliding into his skin is fair? You didn’t earn this, Jake. You didn’t train. You didn’t spend nights memorizing neural pathways and Avatar physiology. You just showed up with the same goddamn DNA and they handed you the keys to his life. To his body.”
He doesn’t flinch. Just leans forward, forearms braced on the armrests, muscles shifting under the thin shirt in a way that makes you remember exactly how Tom’s body felt pressed against yours in the dark of the link room after hours—gentle, careful and warm.
“Maybe I didn’t earn it,” he says slowly. “But I’m here. And I’m not leaving. So you can either keep hating me from across the room… or you can look me in the eye and tell me exactly how much it hurts that I’m the one who gets to wake up in his skin tomorrow.”
Your breath catches, its sharp and painful, tears stinging the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not for him.
“I don’t want to look at you,” you whisper. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
Jake’s lips press into a thin line. Not quite a frown, more like he’s swallowing something bitter.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I get that.” From Grace.. and now from you.” He mutters the last part under his breath.
He rolls back just enough to give you space, to give you the illusion of distance then he turns the chair toward the link bay doors.
“First sync’s tomorrow at 0600. Grace’ll be running it. If you want to watch… or if you just want to stand there and glare at me while I try not to fuck up your boyfriend’s body, that’s your call.” A pause. His head tilts slightly, eyes dragging over your face like he’s memorizing the shape of your pain. “But I’m not him. I know that. And I’m not pretending I am.”
The door hisses shut behind him.
You stand there shaking, arms wrapped tight around your middle, the ghost of Tom’s gentle hands warring with the raw, aching void where he used to be.
You tell yourself you won’t go.
You tell yourself you hate him.
But when the alarm chirps at 05:45 the next morning, you’re already dressed, lab coat thrown over yesterday’s clothes, pulse hammering in your throat like it’s trying to escape.
The observation deck is dim, lit only by the soft bioluminescent pulse of the link pods. Grace is there, sipping coffee that smells like motor oil, giving you a long, knowing look when you slip inside.
“You sure about this?” she asks quietly.
You don’t answer. You just step to the glass and watch.
Jake’s already in the bed—shirtless, the lean muscle of his human body stark against the blue padding. Electrodes spiderweb across his chest, his temples, his wrists. His face is calm, almost resigned.
The tech counts down.
“Link in three… two… one.”
His body jerks once—spine arching—then goes still.
Inside the tank, the Avatar’s eyes snap open.
Yellow. Endless. Jake’s.
He sits up slowly, tail flicking once, long fingers flexing as he learns the new weight of his limbs. The bioluminescent freckles across his chest glows brighter when he turns his head—straight toward the observation window.
Straight toward you.
Even through two layers of reinforced glass, you feel it: that same steady stare from yesterday, only now it’s ten feet tall, wrapped in corded muscle and midnight skin.
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t mouth anything dramatic.
He just holds your gaze quiet and unflinching—like he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.
Your hands curl into fists at your sides.
Grace sighs behind you. “He’s gonna be trouble.”
You don’t answer. You’re already turning away from the glass, chest tight and throat burning.
Because hate and grief are still the same color when they burn this hot.
And right now, you’re still on fire.
____
Three months have carved themselves into the green heart of Pandora like scars that refuse to fade. Site 32 sits deeper in the forest now, closer to the floating mountains where the Omatikaya pulse with life—close enough that the bioluminescence bleeds through the canopy even at midday, close enough that the air tastes like wet earth and night-blooming flowers even through your exopack filter.
You’ve been assigned to Jake’s Avatar on this run. Grace didn’t ask if you wanted it; she just handed you the datapad with the sample coordinates and a look that said, deal with it. So here you are—tramping through undergrowth that glows under your boots, exopack hissing softly with every breath, medkit slung over your shoulder, while Jake’s towering blue form moves ahead like he was born to this gravity.
He’s enormous up close like this.
Ten feet of lean muscle wrapped in cerulean blue skin that catches every stray shaft of light filtering through the leaves—deep cobalt streaked with faint bioluminescent freckles that shimmer like scattered stars across his broad shoulders, down the long slope of his spine, dusting the sharp cut of his hips, his tail swaying low and lazy behind him, thick braid swinging with each silent step. Those same yellow-green eyes, but they’re sharper now, wilder. Scanning the forest like he’s hunting something only he can see. Every time he glances back to check on you, your stomach twists so hard you almost stumble.
You hate how much he looks like Tom in this body.
You hate how much you notice.
Then the viperwolf comes out of nowhere.
One second the forest is breathing quiet around you—then a low snarl rips the air, black-and-gold stripes flashing, jaws snapping inches away from your leg. Jake moves faster than anything that size should—long arm sweeping you behind him, other hand snatching the rifle from his back in one fluid motion. The crack of the shot echoes; the animal yelps once, high and furious, then bolts into the undergrowth, leaving a smear of dark blood on the moss.
Jake’s breathing hard—chest rising and falling in heavy pulls that make the freckles across his pecs flicker like dying embers. A long, shallow gash runs down his left forearm—three parallel claw marks weeping violet blood that drips slow and thick onto the forest floor.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice deeper in this throat, rumbling through you. “That was too close.”
You’re already moving—grabbing his wrist (god, his skin is so warm, so alive under your gloved fingers), tugging him toward the nearest link shack half-hidden in a cluster of glowing ferns. “Come on. We need to clean that before it festers.”
He doesn’t argue. Just follows—ducking low under the low entrance, shoulders brushing the frame even though he hunches.
Inside, the shack is small and familiar—filtered human air hissing softly from the vents, the faint metallic tang of recycled O₂ replacing Pandora’s thick sweetness the second you seal the door. You rip your exopack off with shaking hands, gulping in clean(ish) air, hair sticking to your damp forehead. Jake lowers himself onto the narrow cot—carefully, almost gentle for how big he is. Long legs stretching out and his injured arm resting across his thigh.
You kneel between his knees without thinking, medkit open on the floor. The proximity hits you like a slap to your smaller frame, his heat radiating and the faint earthy scent of his skin mixing with the coppery tang of blood, those freckles so close you could count them if your hands weren’t trembling. He watches you the whole time with his quiet steady eyes, like he’s memorizing the way your lashes flutter when you’re trying not to look at his face.
You clean the wound with antiseptic wipes, slowly with careful strokes of your smaller fingers over his larger arms in this state, that make his muscles twitch under your touch. Violet blood smears across your gloves, it stains the gauze and he doesn’t flinch once.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says finally, voice low and strained, “I’ve had worse.”
You don’t look up. “I know.”
A beat of silence. The only sound is your breathing and the soft drip of the wound and faint hum of the air recycler.
“Then why are you?”
Your hands still. The gauze hovers over the deepest scratch. You swallow—hard.
“Because it’s bleeding,” you whisper. “And because… because it’s you.”
Your words hang there naked, stupid, all too honestly out in the open now.
Jake’s tail flicks once against the cot frame— a soft thump, then his good hand lifts—slowly and careful, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away and threads it gently into your hair. Five long fingers cradle the back of your skull, his thumb brushing the shell of your ear. Not pulling. Not demanding. Just… there.
Your breath catches.
And you finally look up at him.
His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them look, his citrine yellow eyes gone liquid, pupils blown wide in the dim light of the shack. Those freckles glow faintly across his cheekbones, down the strong column of his throat. He looks so much like Tom in this moment, that it steals the air from your lungs—same tilt to the head, same quiet intensity, but his hand’s in your hair is bigger, rougher from months in this body, and the way he’s looking at you isn’t gentle like Tom’s ever was.
It’s hungry.
Not for blood. Not for violence.
For you.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs. Voice so low it vibrates through his chest into yours.
“I know.”
His thumb strokes once, a slow drag of heat warmed skin, along your jaw. “Tell me to stop.”
You don’t.
Instead you lean forward just a fraction, until your forehead brushes the hard plane of his sternum. His heartbeat thuds steadily and strong under your skin, too fast to be calm. Your hands slide up his forearms, careful of the bandage you just tied, your fingers tracing the raised lines of old scars and the new ones still weeping faintly.
Jake exhales a ragged breath, like it hurts to breathe.
His fingers tighten in your hair—not hard, just enough to tilt your face up so you’re looking at him again. Inches apart. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips, close enough to see the way his pupils eat the yellow, until there’s almost nothing left but black.
“You still see him when you look at me,” he says quietly. Not accusingly. Just… stating a fact.
Your throat burns. “Sometimes.”
He nods once, like he expected it.
“But right now,” he continues, voice dropping to a gravel whisper, “right now you’re looking at me.”
You are.
And it’s impossible to look away.
His other hand, bandaged and careful, lifts to cup your cheek, and his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, the touch is so soft it makes your eyes sting.
“I’m not him,” Jake says again, softer this time. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
You turn your face into his palm, and press your lips to the rough center of it, tasting salt and earth and the faint metallic bite of his blood.
A hot tear slips free traitorously and slides down your cheek. He catches it with the pad of his thumb and smears it gently across your skin like he’s claiming it.
He shudders at the feeling. It's full-bodied, his tail curling tight around your calf like he can’t help it.
You don’t kiss him.
Not yet.
But you stay there, forehead to his chest, his hand cradling your skull, your lips brushing the lifeline of his palm—while the forest hums outside and the air recycler whispers and something fragile and heated blooms slowly and aching between you.
Close enough to burn.
Close enough to maybe, finally, let go.
The air in the link shack feels thicker now and humid, recycled. It’s clinging to your skin like it knows what’s building between you. Jake’s still sitting on the cot, legs spread wide to make room for you kneeling there, his bandaged forearm resting heavy on his thigh while his other hand stays threaded in your hair. Not pulling, just holding like he’s afraid if he lets go you’ll vanish into the forest outside.
Your forehead is still pressed to the hard plane of his chest, right over the steady thud-thud-thud of his heart. Too fast for calm. Too loud in the quiet. Every breath you take pulls in more of him: warm skin, the faint metallic bite of blood and the deep earthy musk that’s all Na’vi, all Jake, nothing like the sterile lab smell’s you’ve lived in for years.
You shift just a little and your cheek brushes one of the glowing freckles scattered across his pecs and it pulses softly under the contact, like it’s alive, like his whole body is responding to you being this close. Your hands are still on his forearms—small, human and fragile-looking against the thick cords of muscle and the midnight-blue skin that feels like heated velvet under your palms.
Everything feels too small now.
Your hands. Your body. The cot creaking under his weight. Even the shack itself seems to shrink around the sheer size of him, his ten feet of lean, coiled power, shoulders broad enough to block out the dim light from the single overhead panel, thighs thicker than your waist bracketing you like he could crush you without meaning to.
And he’s getting hard.
You feel it before you see it—the slow, insistent thickening under the thin loincloth he’s wearing, the heavy length of him stirring, rising, pressing against the fabric until it tents obscenely. The outline is ridiculous when you stare.. long, thick, ridged even through the cloth, the flushed tip already nudging free, glistening with a single bead of pearlescent precum that catches the low lights.
He’s barely eighteen in this body—Na’vi physiology locked in at peak youth—and it shows. The way his cock twitches, eager and unashamed, like it has a mind of its own. Like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.
Jake exhales—ragged and lowly—his fingers flexing subtly in your hair.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice gravel-rough and deeper in this throat. “Your smell… it’s driving me crazy, baby.”
You swallow hard. Your own scent must be flooding the small space, your sweat, and growing arousal, the sharp tang of fear-laced want. You can feel yourself getting wetter, slick gathering between your thighs, soaking through your panties, until the fabric of your cargos clings uncomfortably.
His free hand moves slow and carefully, giving you every second to pull away, he reaches his long fingers up your arms to where your gloved hands are soaking with blood —his blood. He forces his larger warm blue finger underneath and tugs it off your fingers, both hands now bare to his touch, his large hands raking down your arms then bringing them to where your chest is visibly heaving and —slips them under the hem of your shirt. Five long fingers splay across the small of your back, rough calluses dragging over your skin. Curiously and exploring your body like he’s learning the shape of you the way you’ve spent months studying Na’vi anatomy in textbooks and holos—every ridge, every sensitive nerve cluster, every place that makes the body ache.
Except this isn’t theory.
This is him.
His palm is so big it covers most of your lower back in one touch. Heat is pouring off him—feverish, alive—and when his thumb strokes up your spine, slow and deliberately, you can’t help the soft whimper that slips out.
Jake’s head dips, his braids falling forward to brush your shoulder and his lips find the side of your neck.
Not a kiss yet.
Just a brush of skin on skin, warm and sweet, then the flat of his tongue drags up the column of your throat in one long, wet lick. His Na’vi tongue—longer, rougher than a human's, textured like velvet sandpaper. It leaves a glistening trail that cools instantly in the recycled air, making you shiver.
He groans against your skin low, and animalistic and does it again. Slower this time, tasting and savoring you. The tip of his tongue flicks over your pulse point, circles it, then dips lower to trace the hollow at the base of your throat.
Your hands clutch at his arms, nails digging in and leaving half moon crescents, trying to anchor yourself because your world is tilting, shrinking, narrowing down to the heat of his mouth, the size of his hands, the heavy throb of his cock brushing your inner thigh through layers of fabric.
“Jake—”
His name comes out wrecked and breathless.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes blown black, citrine swallowed by pupil, freckles glowing brighter across his cheekbones like he’s lit from the inside.
“You’re so fucking small,” he rasps, voice cracking on the words. “Everything about you… fits right here.” His hand on your back slides higher—under your shirt, palm flattening between your shoulder blades and holding you against him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Makes me wanna see how far this goes. Makes me wanna ruin you.”
Another slow lick up the side of your neck open-mouthed this time, lips closing over your pulse, sucking gently until you feel the faint sting of a mark blooming under his mouth.
Your hips jerk forward on instinct grinding slowly, once against the hard line of his thigh, and he growls. Low and possessively. The sound vibrating straight through your core.
His cock jumps— thick and insistently nudging harder against you, the damp spot on his loincloth spreading, visibly.
“Feel that?” he murmurs against your skin. “That’s what you do to me. Just your smell… your little hands on me… fuck, baby, I’ve been hard since you touched my arm out there.”
You whimper quietly in the haze, a needy little sound and your fingers slides up to his chest, tracing the glowing freckles, feeling them pulse under your touch like tiny heartbeats.
Jake’s hand in your hair tightens—just enough to tilt your face up.
Then he kisses you.
Slow and Deeply.
His mouth is huge, lips soft but firm, his tongue pushing past yours in one slick glide, filling you, tasting every corner inside your mouth, like he’s claiming territory. He groans into the kiss, the vibration rumbling down your throat—and his big hand slides higher under your shirt, cupping the back of your neck now, thumb stroking the sensitive spot behind your ear.
You melt into it, your hands clutching his braids, body arching towards him, thighs spreading wider over his leg so you can press closer. His cock throbs against your hip—hot and leaking, so big you can feel every ridge even through the cloth.
He breaks the kiss with a wet sound, his lips swollen and glistening and rests his forehead against yours.
Breathing hard, now.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Tell me and I will.”
Your hands shake where they’re tangled in his braids.
You don’t say anything.
Instead you lean in, slow and hazed, licking a stripe up the column of his throat, tasting salt and earth and the faint bioluminescent sweetness that’s all him.
Jake shudders and it’s full-bodied, tail curling tight around your calf again and his hips rock up once, instinctively grinding that massive length against you.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”
But he doesn’t stop.
His mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time and his hands roam your body slowly and curious, learning every inch of you under your clothes while the forest hums outside and the air grows thicker with want.
Everything feels too small.
And too much.
You don’t want it to stop, not now.
The shack feels smaller with every ragged breath you both share, the air thick and heavy with the scent of your arousal and the warm, wild musk rolling off Jake’s skin. Your shirt’s already rucked up high under your arms, bunched and forgotten where his big palm had shoved it out of the way. Cool air kisses the undersides of your breasts, your nipples peaking hard against the thin fabric still clinging there, but Jake’s eyes are lower—locked on the way your hips are twitching every time his thumb strokes lazy circles over the soft skin just below your navel.
You’re straddling one massive blue thigh now, his leg thick enough that your knees barely touch the cot on either side. The heat of him seeps through your cargos, right into your dripping cunt, and every tiny rock of your hips drags your soaked panties against the hard muscle and the friction’s so good it makes your eyes flutter.
“Fuck, baby,” Jake rasps, his voice wrecked and low, “you’re makin’ such pretty little sounds.”
He’s right, every time his fingers dip under your waistband slowly with his teasing touches that drive you crazy, you let out these soft, broken moans you can’t swallow back, your scientist brain screaming at you the whole time: ‘you know the anatomy, you’ve studied the charts, Na’vi’s male genitalia are proportionally massive, internal compatibility is theoretically possible but the stretch—god, the stretch would be huge, impossible, perfect’—
You whimper louder when his hand finally slips fully inside your pants.
Five long, thick blue fingers—each one bigger than two of yours put together—curl against your mound, parting slick folds with careful pressure. He’s so careful and so slow. Like he knows exactly how fragile you are compared to him. The pad of his middle finger drags through your wetness—once, twice—coating himself in your slick until it glistens bright against his midnight skin.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes blown black, freckles pulsing brighter across his cheeks and down his throat like stars waking up. “So fuckin’ wet for me already. You’re dripping down my hand, baby. You want this bad, don’t you?”
You nod jerky, biting your lips now so desperately, your hips canting forward to chase more of the pressure.
His finger circles your entrance with slow, tender strokes then he presses, just the tip of it against the tight ring of muscle, just enough to make your pussy flutter around him, greedily with need, your cunt’s trying to suck him in deeper even though you know he’s too big.
“Easy,” he soothes, but his voice cracks on the word. His finger pushing in just a little more, the stretch impossible inside your tight hole, feeling you sucking him in—hngh Ah— “that’s it baby,” mhnm—”Gonna open you up nice and slow. Gotta make sure this little human cunt can take me later.”
Later.
The word hits you like a spark—your mind flashing to the sheer size of him, that heavy, ridged cock you felt grinding against your hip earlier, thick enough to split you open, long enough to kiss your cervix and then some. You clench hard around the single finger he’s working inside you—already stretching you wide, already feeling like it’s nudging places nothing human ever reached.
“Fuck—Jake—”
He groans—deep, the sound resonating low in your ears and pushes deeper. One long, smooth slide until his knuckle bumps your clit and his fingertip curls against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark white.
Your back arches, and a high, needy whine spills out. Your hands clutch at his braids, yanking him closer without meaning to.
“That’s it,” he growls against your throat, tongue laving another slow, wet stripe up your neck. “Let me feel how tight you are. Fuck, you’re gripping me so good, want your pretty pussy stretched around my cock instead.” And you imagine it— all that ridged length splitting you open, filling you up till you can’t think straight.
You’re shaking now, your thighs are trembling, slick running down his wrist in glossy rivulets. His freckles light up brighter with every pulse of his arousal, bioluminescence flaring like he’s glowing from the inside out.
He adds a second finger slower, so fucking slow and you cry out, half-pain, half-pleasure, the stretch burning sweet and deep.
“Too—too big, Jake ngh—”
“Shhh, baby, breathe.” He coos softly as his free hand cups the back of your skull, thumb stroking your cheek while he scissors gently, working you open. “You’re doing s’good. Taking my fingers like you were made for it, hm baby? Gonna take my tongue next, right pretty girl?,” he looks at you with an eager smile, but your eyes are blown wide and needy, “m’gonna lick this sloppy little cunt till you’re crying for my cock.”
Your head falls back on a sob.
And he doesn’t wait any longer.
Jake shifts his massive body, moving with that soft predatory grace and lays you back on the cot, careful not to crush you under his weight. Your legs fall open wide—cargos and panties shoved down to your ankles in one rough tug—and he settles between them, shoulders so broad they push your thighs apart even farther.
His eyes lock on your pussy, puffy and glistening, your clit swollen and throbbing under his stare.
“Fuck,” he breathes, mesmerized. “Look at her. So pretty f’me.”
Then his mouth is on you.
No tease. No warning.
Just one long, filthy drag of his huge Na’vi tongue—rough-textured and longer than any human’s—from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit. Flat and hot and relentless. He groans like he’s tasting the sweetest thing in the universe, vibrations rumbling straight through your pussy, he’s licking around your clit softly, just to hear you mewl.
You scream and it’s muffled against your own hand, your hips bucking up into his face desperately.
Jake doesn’t let up.
His big hands clamp on your thighs, holding you open for him, spreading you wider—while that wicked tongue spears inside your cunt, curling and thrusting, fucking you deep. Deeper than his fingers did. Deeper than anything should reach. The tip nudges your gummy walls, cervix kissed by the blunt tip of his tongue, it’s hot and insistent and you swear you feel it in your womb. The pressure builds higher, coiling faster and ready to snap.
“Jake, oh god—ngh—oh fuck!”
He growls into your cunt, his tongue lashing your clit in fast, sloppy circles, then he sucks the swollen bud between his lips, hard. Sucking, flicking and laving at it without mercy. Wet, obscene sounds filling the shack—slurp, suck, squelch—mixing perfectly with your broken moans and his hungry groans.
Your hands fist in his braids—pulling, grinding and riding his face while tears leak down your temples.
“So good—so fucking good—don’t stop ah—please—”
He doesn’t.
His tongue plunges back inside, hot and thick, relentlessly curling against that spot over and over while the flat of it grinds your clit on every upstroke. You’re gushing now, slick coating his chin, dripping down his neck and pooling on the cot beneath you.
Freckles flaring brighter, his entire chest and shoulders glowing like he’s feeding off your pleasure.
You cum hard, back bowing and thighs clamping around his head, a raw scream tearing out of your throat as your pussy spasms and flutters around his still thrusting tongue. Wave after wave—hot and blinding you until you’re shaking, whimpering and oversensitive and still grinding weakly against his mouth.
Jake doesn’t stop until you’re limp, until every last tremor wrings out of you.
Only then does he pull back—slow—his lips and chin dripping with your release, eyes blown black and wild, cock so hard it’s leaking steadily through his loincloth, thick strings of precum connecting tip to fabric.
He licks his swollen lips slowly, savoring every drop of your juices.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, voice hoarse. “Taste so goddamn sweet. Could eat this pussy for hours.”
His hand slides up your trembling thigh—fingers tracing the mess he made, then he cups your oversensitive mound, his palm hot and possessive over you.
“That was just the warm up,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush a surprisingly gentle kiss to your puffy clit—making you jolt—M’not stopping till I’m buried aaalll the way inside you. Gonna stretch this little cunt so wide you’ll feel only me, forever.”
You whimper high and needy, already aching for it.
He grins slow, ferallity imminent, and his freckles are still glowing.
“Think you can handle that, scientist?”
Your voice is wrecked when you answer.
“Try me.”
The cot groans under Jake’s weight as he shifts higher, his knees planted wide on either side of your hips, towering blue body caging you in like the forest itself decided to claim you. Your shirt’s long gone now, shoved somewhere in the corner with your cargos and panties, leaving you bare and trembling beneath him. Every inch of your skin feels fever-hot, flushed, too small under the sheer scale of him, ten feet of his hulking muscles and midnight skin glowing with those scattered bioluminescent freckles that pulse brighter every time his cock twitches.
And fuck, that cock.
It’s obscene, —huge.
Heavy, ridged and throbbing so hard that the thick veins stands out like ropes under the velvety blue shaft. The base is deep indigo, darkening to near-black where it meets the swollen knot of his knot-to-be, then fading lighter as it climbs higher, until that pretty flushed pink tip blooms at the head, glistening and weeping. The slit weeps thick, pearlescent precum in slow, syrupy beads that drip down the underside in glossy strings, pooling at the fat ridge before sliding lower.
Jake’s eyes are locked on your face, black pupils swallowing the yellow, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fists himself once, slow. The motion making another fat glob of precum bubble up and spill over his knuckles. He swipes his thumb over the leaking slit, collecting the slick, sticky mess and he brings it straight to your lips.
“Open,” he rasps, voice gravel-low and wrecked.
You do—lips parting on a shaky exhale—and he pushes the pad of his thumb inside, smearing that thick, salty-sweet precum across your tongue. Nasty and filthy-sweet. The taste hits you like a drug—musky, warm and faintly sweet like the air after rain on Pandora—and your pussy clenches hard around nothing, fresh slick gushing out to coat your inner thighs.
“Fuck,” he groans, watching your tongue swirl around his thumb, sucking it clean. “Look at that greedy little mouth. Already drooling for more.”
Your hips twitching needy and desperate, then he pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, trailing the string of saliva and precum down your chin, between your breasts, until his big hand cups your mound again. Two thick fingers spread your puffy folds wider exposing your dripping entrance, your swollen clit throbbing under his stare.
“So wet,” he murmurs, almost entranced. “This pretty pussy s’all drippin’ just from me tasting her. Fuck, baby… you’re gonna take every inch, aren’t you?”
You whimper high and broken because the sight of him stroking himself is burning into your brain: that massive length jerking in his grip, pink tip flaring darker with every pass of his fist, more precum leaking in thick ropes that drip onto your belly, warm and sticky.
He leans down, and his one thick braid falls forward over his shoulder and the pink kuru tendrils at the end twitch, curiously and alive. They sway toward you like they have a mind of their own, brushing your collarbone, your cheek, seeking out the neural queue. It glows faintly, pink and sensitive, quivering as it grazes your skin.
Jake notices and his eyes flicking to it then back up to you.
“Relax for me, baby” he whispers, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Gotta go slow. Don’t wanna hurt you… but fuck, I need to be inside you. Need to feel this tight little cunt stretched around me.”
You nod jerky and frantically, as your legs fall open wider, thighs trembling against his hips.
He notches the fat, flushed head at your entrance, hot and slick, so much bigger than anything you’ve ever seen or —taken. The pink tip kisses your folds, spreading them wide, precum mixing with your own slick in a messy, glossy sheen. Jake rocks forward, just so the thick slope of his tip pushes— in and you gasp, back arching and nails digging into his forearms.
“Too—too big hngh— Jake”
“Shhh, breathe, baby.” he whispers soothingly, His free hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek while the other grips the base of his cock, holding himself steady. “You’re doing so good. Look at her, look how she’s sucking me in already.”
Another slow push forward, inch by torturous inch—and the stretch burns sweet and deep. Your pussy flutters greedily, the narrow channel of your gummy walls trying to take more even as it protests at the sheer girth. The ridges drag along your walls—hot, textured and catching every sensitive spot—until the thickest part of the head pops past your entrance with a wet, schlick.
You cry out, it's a half sob, half moan, your hips jerk up instinctively.
Jake groans deep, it's a guttural sound, his tail lashing behind him, kuru tendrils twitching wildly now, brushing your neck, your jaw, like they’re desperate to connect.
“Fuck—fuck—mhnm so fuckin’ tight,” he pants, forehead dropping to yours. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto your skin. “Feel that? Feel how deep I am already? That’s just the tip, baby. Gonna feed you the rest… nice n’ slow.”
The shallow rolls, every rock of his hips carefully working another thick, swollen inch inside you. Your walls stretch, burn, yield—to his impossible girth—clenching and fluttering around the invading length like you're trying hard to pull him deeper. Slick gushes out, thick and sappy around him, coating his shaft, dripping down to his heavy balls.
Your hands scramble up his chest, your fingers tracing his glowing freckles, feeling them flare brighter under your touch.
“Jake—please—ngh more hngh—fuuuck”
He growls low and possessively and sinks deeper. Halfway in now. The ridges drag deliciously, pressing against that soft ribbed spot inside your stuffed full cunt that makes stars burst behind your eyes. Your pussy spasms clenching harder around his throbbin’ cock and he curses under his breath, hips stuttering.
“Goddamn, you’re gripping me like a fuckin’ vice. This little cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?”
You can only whimper, overwhelmed, full and aching in the best way.
His kuru tendrils finally find the slope of your neck—brushing the base of your skull, seeking the spot where a braid would be. They quiver, pink and sensitive, like they’re tasting you, learning you.
Jake’s eyes flutter, his pupils blown impossibly wide.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Even your scent up close… it’s everywhere. Driving me insane.”
He gives another slow thrust, deeper and deeper you feel the blunt head nudge that small mouth of your cervix, pressure blooming hot and intense. Not all the way in yet—still inches to go—but already so full you can barely breathe.
“Look at me,” he rasps.
You do, your eyes locking on his and he rolls his hips once, grinding the thick base against your clit.
You come undone—screaming, back bowing, pussy clamping down like a fist around him as wave after wave crashes through you. Slick floods out—drenching his cock, his thighs, the cot beneath you while your walls ripple and milk him.
Jake shudders—full-body—his braid whipping, kuru tendrils flaring bright pink—and he buries the few inches deeper, deeper, deeper with one final, careful push.
still having 3 more inches left to go.
your over stuffed cunt, sucking him in deep, yet he knows there's more room for him—for his cock.
His heavy sack rests hot against your ass, cock throbbing inside you thick and ridged, stretching you to the absolute limit. You swear you can feel him in your womb, in your lungs, everywhere.
He doesn’t move yet, just stays there, panting his forehead pressed to yours and hands cradling your face like you’re something precious.
“So fucking perfect,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Took it so fuckin’ well, as much as that pussy can fit, hm baby?.”
You’re trembling now overstimulated, full and achingly perfect.
His hips give the tiniest rock—testing—and you both groan.
“Gonna move now,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna fuck you slow… gonna fill this pretty pussy up till you’re leaking me for days.”
His kuru tendrils brush against your cheek seemingly trying to comfort you for taking everything, still curious and glowing.
“Ready for me?”
You nod, hot tears slipping free, lips brushing his.
“Fill me up, Jake.”
He grins—slow, feral, his freckles blazing.
“Thaaat’s my girl.”
And then he starts to move.
He’s buried so deep it feels like he’s rearranging your insides—every thick, ridged inch of that massive painted in shades of blue, bioluminescence freckled cock stretching your poor human pussy to its absolute limit. The blunt head kisses your cervix with every tiny rock of his hips, but he still can’t get even the last couple inches in. Your walls flutter and clamp around him like you’re trying to pull him deeper, greedy and desperate, but the sheer girth has you pinned, split open and dripping.
Slick runs in hot, messy rivulets down his shaft coating the deep indigo base, glistening on the heavy swell of his balls, pooling on the cot beneath you in a glossy puddle that smells like sex and ozone and him. Every time he grinds forward—just a shallow roll—the wet squelch echoes in the tiny shack, obscene and loud, making your cheeks burn even as your hips chase more.
“Fuck—baby, look at her,” Jake groans, voice cracking low and wrecked. His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick braids brushing your temples, his eyes blown so wide the yellow is just a thin ring around endless black. “Your cunt’s trying so hard to take all of me… dripping down my cock like she’s begging for more. So fuckin’ wet, so tight—shit, I can feel every flutter, every squeeze.”
You whimper high and broken, your nails digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders. His freckles are blazing now, glowing bright across his chest and throat like he’s lit from within, feeding off every pulse of your arousal.
His braid slips forward again lower, the pink kuru tendrils swaying, curious and alive. They’ve been twitching the whole time, brushing your skin, seeking, tasting the air around you like they can feel how needy you are. Jake notices, his eyes flicking down and a slow, a filthy grin spreads across his face.
“Hold still, f’me pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice gone velvety-gravel. “Got an idea… wanna see how this feels.”
He reaches back. His long fingers wrapping around the base of his braid and guides the glowing fuchsia queue forward. The tendrils quiver, pink and sensitive, curling toward your swollen clit like they already know where they belong. You tense, breath hitching deep because you’re the scientist, you know the anatomy, you’ve read the studies: kuru connect to neural interfaces, to tswin, to other Na’vi. Not to a human clit. Not to this.
But Jake’s eyes are locked on yours, his gaze hot and filed with intense yearning and he doesn’t hesitate for a second.
The tip of the kuru brushes your puffy clit softly with feather-light teasing and you jolt like you’ve been shocked. Electric warm. A spark racing straight up your spine, making your pussy clench hard around his cock.
“Fuck—there it is,” he breathes with instense pleasure, voice trembling with awe. “Knew she’d, hah, like that.”
The tendrils curl so slow and tight, wrapping around your clit like a living ring. They squeeze gently but firm. Pulsing with faint bioluminescent light, glowing brighter every time your hips twitch. The pressure is perfectly too much and not enough, milking your swollen bud in tiny, rhythmic tugs that make your vision white out.
“Oh—oh god- hngh- fuuuck Jake—!”
He shudders, its full bodied again for the nth time, his tail lashing behind him, cock throbbing so hard inside the narrow channel of your cunt, that you feel it in your womb.
“Shhh, baby, breathe,” he soothes, but his own voice is shaking and raw with need. One big hand slides into your hair, fingers cradling the back of your skull, thumb stroking your temple while the other grips your hip, holding you steady. “That’s it… let her hold you. Feel how she squeezes? Fuck, she’s glowing around your pretty clit… look at that. All lit up for me.”
The kuru pulses then. Warm, electric—and another wave of pleasure crashes through you. Your pussy gushes—fresh slick flooding around his buried length, dripping down to soak his balls, making every tiny movement wetter, slicker, louder and you swear you cunt opens up more.. just enough for his last throbbing inches to be fucked fully into your pussy, past that mouth of your cervix and finally womb deep.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck,” he chants under his breath, hips rocking in shallow, helpless thrusts because he can’t stay still. “You’re so wet now… can feel it all, baby. Every ripple, every clench hah shit, so fucking deep, squeezin’ so tight around me, this little cunt’s milking me so good. And your clit… nghhh, she’s hugging it so tight, pulsing like she’s tryna pull you apart.”
You’re crying, the tears slipping hot down your temples, you’re overstimulated, full and aching so perfect. The kuru squeezes again, rhythmic, insistent little pulses and your back bows, a raw sob tearing out of your throat as another orgasm builds too fast, too intense.
“Jake—please mhngh—I can’t, it’s too much—”
“You can,” he says softly but firmly, lips brushing your forehead, your cheek, your mouth. “You’re taking me so deep already… taking my kuru on that needy clit like you were made for it. Look at me, pretty girl. Look at how good you feel.”
His eyes are wrecked, pupils blown entirely, freckles blazing and sweat dripping from his brow onto your skin. He’s shuddering and his hips are stuttering because the kuru is feeding him everything; every flutter of your walls, every pulse of your clit, every gush of slick coating him.
“Feel that?” he whispers, voice trembling with raw yearning. “That’s you… all of you. Inside me now. Fuck baby, you feel so good. So fucking good. mnhm take it… take it all, pretty girl. Let her squeeze you till you come f’me again.”
The tendrils tighten—just a little more—and the glow flares bright pink and high electric pleasure shoots straight to your core.
You break.
Screaming his name, back arching off the cot, thighs clamping around his hips, pussy spasming wildly around his cock as wave after blinding wave rips through you. Slick floods out hot and messy, utterly drenching him and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets. The kuru milks your clit through every pulse, drawing it out, making you shake and sob and grind helplessly against him.
Jake groans deep and brokenly, his hips jerking once, twice. His cock’s throbbing so hard you feel every ridge swell inside you.
“Fuck, gonna—haah fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence.
His kuru pulses one last time, squeezing your oversensitive clit in a final, lovin’ grip and he cums with a guttural moan, his hips slamming forward as far as he can go. Thick, hot ropes of cum flood you—pulse after pulse—filling you up so full it leaks out around his base in creamy white streams, mixing with your slick, dripping down to his heavy sack.
He collapses over you, carefully not to crush you, his forehead pressed to yours, panting, shuddering, kuru still wrapped gently around your clit like it never wants to let you go.
“Fuck… baby…” His voice is hoarse, wrecked and fucked out. “You took everything. Every inch… every drop. So goddamn perfect.”
The kuru finally uncurls slowly and reluctant, the tendrils brushing one last soft kiss to your swollen clit before retreating back into his braid, glowing faintly.
Jake kisses you then, a soft press of his lips then and deeper, tasting like salt and want and something achingly tender.
“Gonna stay inside you a while,” he murmurs against your lips, his hips giving one lazy roll that makes you both whimper. “Gonna keep you full… keep you dripping me. My pretty scientist… my girl.”
You’re trembling now, overstimulated, stuffed and marked inside and out and all you can do is cling to him, nodding weakly, whispering his name like a prayer.
Because right now, in this tiny shack on Pandora, with his cock still throbbing inside you and his cum leaking slow and hot down your thighs—
You’ve never felt more claimed.
More wanted.
More his.
The high is fading slowly like syrup dripping down glass, sticky and lingering but your body doesn’t care. Jake’s still buried inside you, impossibly deep, his massive blue cock throbbing with the aftershocks of his release. The blunt, ridged head is pressed right up against your cervix, kissing it with every tiny twitch of his hips, stretching your walls so wide they burn sweet and tender around him. You can feel every vein, every swollen ridge, every pulse of the thick base where it’s locked against your entrance like it was carved to fit.
Your pussy doesn’t want to let him go.
Can’t.
Every time your walls flutter weak in exhausted little clenches—they grip him tighter, milking the last drops from his spent length like you’re starving for more. Slick and cum mix in a hot, messy flood inside you. His thick, pearlescent ropes coating every inch, leaking slow and lazy out around where he’s stuffed you full. It drips down your ass, warm and sticky, pooling beneath you on the already-ruined cot, the scent of it heavy in the recycled air: salt, musk, that faint sweet ozone tang that’s pure Jake, pure Na’vi, pure him.
“Fuck… hnngh —baby,” he breathes against your temple, voice hoarse and wrecked, still trembling from the way he came so hard he saw stars. His forehead stays pressed to yours, sweat-slick braids draped over your shoulders like a curtain. “You feel that? How deep I am? Still throbbing inside this greedy little cunt… she’s clenching so hard, nghhh—fuck, she doesn’t wanna let a single drop escape hm?”
You whimper softly, broken—hips twitching on instinct even though you’re oversensitive, raw, aching in the best way. His cock jumps at the movement thick and heavily—and another warm spurt of cum leaks out, adding to the mess already overflowing.
His big hand slides down between your bodies, his long blue fingers splaying wide over your lower belly first, pressing gently where you can feel the faint bulge of him inside you. He groans low when he feels it, feels himself under your skin and then his thumb drifts lower.
Right to your pretty, swollen clit.
It’s puffy, throbbing, still hypersensitive from the kuru’s earlier grip, glistening with your slick and the creamy edges of his cum that leaked out earlier. He circles it once with slow feather-light touches and your whole body jerks, pussy clamping down hard around his buried length.
clench—clench—clench, his teasing voice is now dripping with that dark, hungry awe. “Look at her go… fuck, baby, every time I touch this cute little clit you squeeze me so tight. Like you’re tryna milk every last drop outta me. hm? So greedy… so fuckin’ perfect.”
A sob breaks out quiet and needy, your thighs trembling around his hips as he keeps the pressure light but relentless. Tiny circles. Lazy drags. Just enough to keep the sparks dancing up your spine without tipping you over again. Your walls ripple around him, flutter grip, flutter, pulling more cum from his softening cock in slow, lazy pulses that make you both shudder.
“So much cum,” he rasps, almost reverent, thumb pressing firmer now, rubbing slow figure-eights over your clit while his other hand tangles in your hair, cradling your head like you’re fragile and filthy all at once. “Filled you up so good, didn’t I? Pumped you full till it’s leaking everywhere… dripping down my balls, soaking the sheets. Fuck—look at that mess we made, pretty girl. All that thick white cum just pouring outta this stretched little hole.”
He rocks his hips forward, just the tiniest grind into your spent heat and the wet squelch is loud in the quiet shack. More cum gushes out around his base hot and creamy, sliding down to where his heavy balls rests against your ass. You can feel it trickling, warm and sticky and pooling under you, marking you inside-out.
“Jake—please mmhn—” Your voice cracks, wrecked, pleading even though you don’t know what for. More? Less? Just him.
He shushes you softly, his lips brushing your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, while his thumb never stops its slow torture on your clit.
“Shhh, I got you,” he whispers, voice low and tender now, edged with that raw yearning that makes your chest ache. “Just feel it, baby. Feel how full you are… how deep I still am. This pussy’s hugging me so tight, clenching like she never wants me to pull out. And I won’t—not yet. Gonna stay right here… keep you plugged full of my cum till you’re dripping me for days.”
Another shallow rock of his hip, barely a thrust and your walls spasm again, greedily and fluttering, trying to pull him impossibly deeper. Fresh slick floods out to mix with the mess, making every tiny movement slicker, wetter and louder.
“Fuck—there it is,” he groans, thumb pressing harder on your clit, rubbing faster now. “Clench for me again, pretty girl. Squeeze me… milk me dry. You’re so wet, so messy… all this cum leaking outta you and you’re still gripping me like you need more. Nghhh—shit, baby, you feel too good. Too fuckin’ good.”
Your hips buck up weak and helplessly chasing the pressure on your clit even as tears slip down your cheeks from the overstimulation. Every clench sends another warm spurt of his release leaking out, every grind makes the bulge in your belly shift, every circle of his thumb makes your pussy flutter and grip and ache.
He kisses you then slower, savoring the way you chase him deeper and he swallows your whimpers, while his fingers stay buried in your hair and his thumb keeps working your clit in lazy, loving strokes.
“Gonna make you come again like this,” he murmurs against your lips, voice trembling with how much he wants it. “Just from my cock stuffing you full and my fingers on this swollen little clit. Gonna make this pussy clench and clench till you’re crying for me… till you’re so full of my cum you can’t hold anymore.”
You’re shaking in his grip, whole body trembling, pussy spasming around him in endless, needy pulses.
And he just holds you closer, his big hands cradling you, thumb never stopping, cock never leaving, while the mess between you grows slicker, hotter, more obscene with every heartbeat.
“Take it, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “Take every drop. Keep me inside… keep me full. My pretty, dripping girl… all mine.”
Your walls clench hard one last, desperately gripping his cock and you shatter again.
Softer this time. Quiet and overwhelmed.
Just waves of pleasure rolling through you while his cum leaks out slow and endless, while his thumb strokes you through it, while he groans low and wrecked against your throat.
“Fuck… that’s it. That’s my good girl.”
He doesn’t pull out.
Not even close.
He just stays in deep, thick, throbbing inside you keeping you plugged, keeping you full, keeping you his while the forest hums outside and the shack fills with the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies still locked together.
Dripping.
Clenching.
And perfect.
Jake’s hips finally shift slowly and reluctantly, like even his body doesn’t want to leave the hot, fluttering grip of your cunt. The drag is torturous, every thick ridge catching on your swollen walls, pulling slick and cum with him in a wet, obscene glide. You whimper into his mouth high and broken because the stretch is still burning sweet even now, your pussy clenching desperately around the retreating length like it’s trying to keep him buried forever.
“Shhh, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, voice wrecked and tender all at once. “Gonna pull out nice and slow… don’t wanna hurt my pretty girl.”
And fuck, the way he says it low in that gravel-rough, possessive way that makes your walls flutter again. A fresh gush of his thick cum leaks out the second the fat, flushed head pops free. Hot, creamy ropes spilling from your gaping entrance, dripping down your ass in slow, sticky trails. You can feel the mess pooling beneath you, warm and filthy, soaking the cot even more, the scent of it flooding the tiny shack: salty-sweet musk, sex and him.
Your brain’s gone all fuzzy. Melted, nothing but static and the aftershocks humming through your limbs. You’re trembling, thighs shaking where they’re still spread wide around his hips, clit throbbing with every heartbeat, pussy clenching on nothing now that he’s gone. Empty. Aching and dripping.
Jake doesn’t let you feel it alone.
He's kissing you through it, tongue sliding against yours like he’s tasting every moan he pulled from you earlier. His big hands cradle your face, long fingers threading into your hair, thumb stroking the tear tracks on your cheeks, while his other palm presses flat to your lower belly, right over the faint bulge that’s already starting to fade. He groans into the kiss when he feels the mess leaking out, his fingers dip lower, two thick blue digits sliding through the creamy flood at your entrance.
“Fuck—look at this,” he breathes against your mouth, voice shaking with awe and hunger. “So much cum pourin’ outta you… pretty pussy’s all stretched and sloppy now. Can’t even hold it in.”
He pushes those two fingers inside, slow, careful not to hurt you. Plugging the leaking hole and curling them just enough to scoop more of his release and stuff it back in. You sob into his kiss, overstimulated, oversensitive, your hips jerk weakly as your walls flutter around the intrusion. The wet squelch is loud in the quiet, filthy and intimate, every tiny pump of his fingers pushing more cum deeper, keeping you full even though his cock is gone.
“Gonna keep you plugged a little longer,” he whispers, lips brushing yours between words. “Don’t want a single drop wasted… want you feeling me inside you all day, baby. Dripping me, leaking me, marked up from the inside out.”
Your head lolls back, your minds too fuzzy to form words, just soft, needy whimpers spilling out as he scissors gently, stretching the tender rim again, making sure every inch stays coated in him.
Then the comm crackles to life, a soft static hiss cutting through the haze.
“Jake? Doc? Where the hell are you two? You’ve been off-grid for over an hour. Grace is about to send in a search party.”
Norm’s voice—annoyed and obviously worried, filters through the small unit clipped to Jake’s discarded gear.
Jake doesn’t even flinch.
He just keeps his fingers buried deep, still pushing in slowly and lazy, giving gentle pumps into your fluttering cunt while he leans over you, lips curving into that slow feral teasing grin you’re starting to crave.
He thumbs the comm with his free hand, voice coming out rough and casual, like he didn’t just fuck you senseless and filled you to overflowing.
“Yeah, we’re good,” he drawls, low and lazy. “Got a little… lost in the forest. Thick canopy fucked with the signal. We’re heading back now.”
A beat of silence on the other end.
Norm sounds skeptical. “Lost? For an hour? You sure you’re not—”
“Positive,” Jake cuts in, smooth as silk. His fingers curl inside you again deliberately now, making your back arch and a fresh whimper escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit at the same time. Light, teasing circles and your pussy clamps hard around his digits, more cum leaking out around them. “We’re fine. Be back in twenty.”
He clicks the comm off before Norm can push further.
Then he looks down at your small helpless frame cuddled against him, eyes reverting back to citrine, freckles still glowing faintly across his cheeks and that grin turns downright wicked.
“Lost, huh?” he murmurs, rolling his eyes for smoothly coming up with that one, then he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the sensitive spot under your ear. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”
His fingers give one last slow thrust in, pushing more of his thick load back inside, before he finally pulls them free. The wet pop makes you both groan. Cum immediately wells up again, creamy white spilling from your puffy, gaping entrance, dripping down to your ass in slow, glossy strings.
Jake watches it with hungry eyes, tail flicking lazily behind him then swipes two fingers through the mess, bringing them to your lips.
“Open, baby.”
You do, your tongue darts out, tasting the salty-sweet mix of him and you and he pushes them inside, letting you suck them clean while his other hand strokes your hair, gentle now, soothingly.
“Good girl,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little. “Took me so well… took every drop. Look at you, messy, full and glowing because of me, fuck- you’re beautiful like this.”
He leans in and kisses you again softer this time, lingering on his taste on your lips, while his hand slides down to cup your mound, palm pressing possessively over the dripping mess he left behind.
“Gonna help you clean up,” he murmurs against your lips. “But first… gonna make sure you feel me leaking out of you the whole way back to base. Every step. Every breath. You’re gonna feel how full I kept you.”
Your brain is still fuzzed, still gone but your body answers for you; thighs trembling, pussy fluttering around nothing, clit throbbing under his palm.
He grins slow and satisfied now and starts gathering your scattered clothes, careful and gently, like he didn’t just ruin you in the best way.
“Get dressed, pretty girl,” he says, voice low and warm. “We’ve got a long walk back… and I wanna watch you try to walk straight with all my cum still dripping down your thighs.”
You whimper, just once, soft and wrecked and he kisses your forehead, lingering there like a promise.
“Mine,” he whispers.
And fuck, after everything—
You believe him.
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