Synopsis. Falling right back in love with the cult leader you’re supposed to kíll? Happens more often than you’d think.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends/lovers to enemies to lovers, oral (fem receiving), facesítting, creampíe, slight Gojo x Reader, running away from it, Suguru is so SOOO in love still, unprotected, spítting, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort, mentions of bIood and kníves, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 4.4k
A/N. I was listening to fantasmas while writing this so take that how you will LMAO.
The difficult part, surprisingly, wasn’t infiltrating Geto Suguru’s Time Vessel Association. No, a few faux tears, a decoy curse, and you were in - stepping through his grandiose hideout. The difficult part was convincing yourself that you were here to kill him.
Something that utterly foolish little part of yourself still had trouble believing - even when you had a knife to his throat.
“Any last words?” you spit, muffled through your mask, thankful for the way it covers up just how much your voice shakes. Maybe because of the way his lips curl into a familiar smile, maybe from his cool dagger pressing against the back of your neck.
Seconds away from a bloodbath.
You don’t know if you’re breathing - or if he is either. Eyes locked on the way Sugur- your target only raises his hand up, up, up - getting ready to strike. To kill. Only you’d get him first and-
Snip!
You’re not dead. But you might as well have been, because your mask falls onto the tatami mat with a deafening clatter.
“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”
It’s hard not to remember.
“You don’t have any right to say that.” your knees tighten around where you had him straddled to the ground. Your hand pinning one of his down, blade digging deeper into Suguru’s pale neck - eyeing the slow, steady drop of blood that beads down it. “Didn’t think you’d remember me, either.”
With your mask now no longer on your face, you could traitorously take in that relaxed grin - as if your life wasn’t in his hands right now. As if he didn’t care.
Suguru’s hair was much longer now, splayed out across the floor inkily. Circling around his broad shoulders, around the eyes that were just a bit harder than they were ten years ago. And yet, you catch the way they flicker briefly with something so raw as he whispers gently, “How could I ever forget my first love?”
So quiet that you could’ve blamed it on your imagination - and you wish you did.
It’s so unfair.
Unfair how you let out a gasp, despite yourself. Unfair how you were the best sword wielder that Jujutsu had to offer, yet your fingers tremble on your knife. Heart stuttering at the mere sight of the way his eyes crinkle with the beginnings of a smile. Pleading, like all he could see was you from what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.
Those golden years. Back when rare Susanoomon cards were what you’d fight over, and the only stains he’d wipe off were from the grassy grounds of Jujutsu High, still faint underneath the encrusted blood on that uniform nestled away deep in his wardrobe.
You manage to grit out, “Shut up. You left me- us.”
“I did.”
Like it was all he wanted to see.
“You never loved me.”
“I do.”
Your voice is shrill at this point, words stumbling over each other. “You’ve massacred more people than you’ve saved.”
Suguru wastes no time denying - or in any niceties. Looking right into your absolutely crazed eyes as he answers, “I have.” And his answer rings so hollow and emotionless in your ears, cold-blooded. Absolutely nothing like the boy you remembered. The one that would laugh and steal you away to take you around campus on his bicycle, all because the next class was “too far”.
“I- fuck.” You place both hands on the hilt of your blade, distantly registering the way that Suguru lets his own drop onto the floor. “I should kill you- I should kill you right now.”
Just one flick of your wrist. Fast and simple.
In and out - exactly like you’d been ordered to.
“And to die by your hand would be a death that someone like me doesn’t deserve.”
You both jolt when your knife hits the ground - as if neither of you were expecting it. And before you can stop yourself, you’re fisting his thick robes, pulling Suguru’s face up closer to yours. Mere inches away.
“Then- then I’ll-” you choke, a hand coming up to dig into the sides of his milky neck, leaving neat, red indents on his skin. “I’ll kill you with my own hands, Suguru.”
And he’s known you for years - would never admit it, but was by your side for only half as long as he’d watched over you.
Saw - only from a distance - those big fat tears you cried at graduation, the curve of your lips as you pulled a very reluctant Nanami into a hug outside his new office building. The steely look in your eyes meeting Satoru’s much softer one, telling him first how you’re going into teaching. And the smile on your face when you thought of who else might have, too. If he’d gotten the chance.
Always hidden.
Never so close to this frenzied glint in your gaze, a tiny sob threatening to escape your lips. Never like this - and yet, he never thinks you’ve looked so beautiful.
But what would someone like him know about beauty, anyway?
You flinch as Suguru reaches a hand up to thumb away the furrow between your brows, catching on the single, stray tear sitting at your cheekbone. Whispering - so low that you involuntarily crane your head closer to hear - “Still such a crybaby.”
“And you’re still going to be the death of me.”
Soft - Suguru’s lips are as soft as you imagined. And it’s not exactly the tender, picture-perfectly romantic first kiss his teenage self dreamt up with you, but fuck if he wasn’t going to remember this like it was.
Perfect.
Pretty lips smothering yours, all slow and sensual. Drinking in those deliciously breathless gasps of yours as he sucks on your candied lips.
You gasp, “Suguru.” and it comes out teary. Making you finally register the wetness rolling down your cheeks, glistening against the dim lighting. You tighten your grip around his neck, “This won’t fix-”
“I know.” Fuck, does he know better than anyone else.
A hand slides up your forearm, the other cupping your face to pull you closer. He’s running his hot tongue along your cheek, pooling your salty tears on his lips. “But let me make you forget - if just for tonight. Please.”
The only answer Suguru gets is your fingers leaving his neck, dancing feather-light across his sculpted shoulders to slide under his robe. Feeling the smooth plane of his pecs underneath your palm, that traitorously thundering heartbeat he wishes he could slow down. “Kiss me.”
“Fuck.” he pants into your open mouth. The sight of your glossy, slightly puffy lips having him surge forward to reattach his with yours with a pained grunt. “God- jus’ a bit more, my love.”
Again. And again and again- like he was addicted.
He’d always been, with you, anyway.
You let out a sinful sound of his name when Suguru kisses down your neck, lips slotting over your racing pulse. Throbbing and so real under his lips, remembering how he used to feel this song under his arms long before.
“Oh- shit.” you moan, when his now rougher - larger - hands sneak underneath your crumpled shirt, deftly unbuttoning. Unbuckling. Impatient. “Sugu-”
A hoarse groan leaves him, only spurring him to all but rip the rest of your uniform off your body faster.
And at the first sight of you clad in nothing but your panties, Suguru’s kiss-bitten lips are falling slack. Brows shooting up into the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead now, “Been missing out, hm?” He’s dipping a hand down to run the back of his index along your clothed, puffy folds. Up and down. “Really been-” Heart clenching when he remembers the way Satoru now looks at you with a familiar glint. One he knew all too well. “-missing out, my love.”
You’re only trailing your fingers along his cheek - his neck, grazing over that little mark from your blade. He groans - maybe from your touch, probably from the way you’re dragging your cunt across that massive bulge underneath you. “Please, Suguru. Wan’ you.”
And if Geto Suguru has spent ten years denying himself, surely he could sacrifice it for the way he lifts your stuttering, sloppy hips up so easily. All the way up until they were hovering over his mouth, hot breath hitting your clothed cunt.
“Wanna taste you.” he groans, spying on the way your slick beads through your panties. “Wan’ see if you’re as hah- sweet as I imagined. Please.”
And he’s obsessed with the way you’re sinking yourself down so gently, cock jumping at the thought of you afraid you’d suffocate him - as if you didn’t have your blade at his throat just minutes ago.
“Fuuuck, don’t worry, pretty.” he groans, soft darting to lick at the juices smeared across your inner thighs. “Some more now. Put it all on me, I can take it- fuck-”
Your syrupy sweet cunt has Geto losing whatever’s left of his fucking restraint, dark eyes rolling to the back of his head because you were so sweet. So pretty looking down at him with your glassy eyes. So addictive. He moans, chest heaving as he breathes in your essence. “What happened to that feist from earlier? Gonna hafta do a lil’ more than that now.”
“B-but-”
It’s at this moment you realize that at any given moment Suguru could’ve easily taken the upper hand. A hand of his pulls down your hesitant hips, swollen lips against your covered ones in such a filthy kiss.
He hums into your folds, bunching your panties between them. “Mmm. Shit- jus’ like I imagined.” Hot tongue dipping just underneath the flimsy fabric to feel out your sloppy entrance, “Better, even. Jus’ look how well you’re taking me, pretty.”
But you don’t - too scared to find out that you’d like the sight more than you should. How you wished you could go back to the golden days where it didn’t matter - wasn’t a matter of life and death. And something else entirely.
And this dilemma has Suguru’s brows furrowing, sharp canines lightly nipping at one of your swollen folds. Wanting to see how it’s him - despite everything, it’s still him making you feel this way. “None of that now.”
RIP!
With this you have to look down, a desperate whine leaving your stupid mouth at the fucking sinful sight down below. Your panties now a tattered excuse in between Suguru’s teeth, baring them with such a devilish grin right up at you.
“See?” he spits out the fabric onto the floor beside him, half-lidded eyes peering up at you so sultry. Looking right at you as his tongue lolls out, spreading your bare, needy folds shamefully. “Isn’t this much better?”
“Hngh- fuck, yes-” you slide your fingers through his now-messy hair, falling out of that half-bun. Jolting on top with each push of his tongue past that feeble ring of resistance, the lewd squelches leaving you with each graze of the wet muscle against your walls. “Shit- Suguru it feels too good. So deep ngh-”
He swats a hand against your ass, making you sit your slutty hips down deeper, all the way till Suguru’s jaw was grinding so greedily against your cunt. Tongue bullying past your folds in and out in and out in and-
“God- hah-” he’s pulling away to gasp deep lungfuls of air - secondary, to the way he was back immediately to making out so hotly with your tight pussy. “Mmm fuck. This cute lil cunt is so needy. S’like you’re trynna suck my tongue off.” Thumb reaching up to draw slow, languid circles that have you throwing your head back. “So perfect.”
Your delirious mouth is dropping open, body moving before your mind as you strain to reach your hand behind. Trembling. Shaky when you manage to cup Suguru’s aching erection.
“G-guess m’not the only one ah- needy, hm?” you smirk, having him bucking and spitting out harsh little profanities with each rub of your palm down his drenched length.
Suguru doesn’t give you a response - because his fingers are speaking on his behalf. Dipping into your sloppy hole, locating your g-spot, as if on instinct. He’s milking your pretty cunt while he roams for those sweet spots. Lips muffling around your throbbing clit, “You’re always right, my love. You always were.”
And his words are so gentle - mouth so sloppy. Squelches so obscene.
Nose pressing up at the top of your abdomen, cheeks hollowing wetly around the sensitive nub. Letting your juices drip all the way down his chin, his jaw, dangerously close to that cut on his neck.
The hand sliding back and forth across the swollen outline of his cock had Suguru get more frenzied. Faster. Like it was his personal mission to make you cum on his tongue before he fucking passed out.
Penetrating your gummy hole with both his fingers and his tongue, spreading it open more. And it’s all you can do to keen, “Oh- oh my god.” Riding Suguru’s pretty face harder. “Shit- m’close, Suguru.”
“Always right.” he gasps, swiping his tongue faster across your clit. “Always perfect” Alternating between squeezing back into your hole, your sweet spots. Stretching out your gummy walls as far as they’d go. “Always made f’me.” Assaulting it with both his fingers and his tongue. Again. And again and again and- “Jus’ wish I got to have you sooner.”
His words make you snap your eyes up from his mean mouth to meet his gaze, devouring you as greedily and depraved as his tongue. They make your thighs burn with the effort to drag your sloppy pussy faster.
They make you cum - shaking, crying out little mewls of “Ngh- fuck. M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”
The way your voice is breaking at the end of each moan has Suguru’s cock straining so painfully against his trousers. One hand firmly on your waist, arching you deeper to tongue you through your high in ways he’s only ever dared to imagine.
Ways he’s selfishly hoped only he could - even after all these years, the sight of any other man looking at you wrong having his irritation flaring.
“S’right.” his voice is sending stars bursting behind your lids, tongue even worse. Having you pleading and so sensitive. “I got you, my love. Give it t’me.” Messy - not as forgiving as he’d like to be. “Give it alllll to me.”
And you do - all but smothering Suguru’s eager tongue with all your sweet juices. Ones he’s lapping up happily, tilting his head back as far as it’d go on the floor, letting your heady slick fill up his throat. His pussydrunk lips let out a hiss, both at the burn of that cut on his neck, and the way you’re desperately pulling your hips back.
Too overstimulated. Too fucking sensitive. Too much - but it would never be enough for Suguru.
“Please, Suguru.” you sob at the way your limp hips are being pulled back by a needy Suguru. “M’too sensitive. I- fuck-” He’s only lapping at your quivering cunt leisurely, smirk prominent against your swollen folds.
And it’s all you can do to deliriously slip a hand underneath his robes, a desperate attempt to keep whatever shred of sanity you have left. Fingers feeling down his unfairly toned abs, the tufts of hair at his pelvis, reaching-
“Oh fuck!” Your heavy eyes admire the way Suguru arches into your touch in surprise - like he couldn’t help himself. Eyes flying open, glossy, plump lips curling into a disbelieving grin, “Ya really are made f’me, huh?”
That’s all it takes for Suguru to head to your lewd whims, bruising fingers on your hips finally loosening to let you sit your sloppy cunt back down on his lap - except, this time, you were seated directly on his rock-hard cock. Pussy lips spreading around his length to just soak him.
“Oh, my love.” He sits up, splaying you out so prettily on his lap. “How I’ve missed you.”
You don’t even register the way you’re raising your head up to meet Suguru’s - not until he spits. Once. Twice. Straight onto your awaiting tongue that you didn’t even realize you were sticking out, saccharine sweet saliva making such a mess when he’s crashing his lips into yours.
“Yeahh, like that. Kiss me like that.” he slurs against your mouth, drunk off both sets of your sweet lips. Getting out through wet, sloppy pecks. “How I wish I had you sooner.”
You can feel your heart thumping so wildly against your ribcage, matching the needy, needy staccato of Suguru’s cock throbbing between your puffy folds. And, well, you really can’t be blamed for the way you break the kiss to look down and oh-
Oh Suguru notices that furrow between your brows, kissing away the nervous little wobble in your lower lips as he grunts, “God, you’re killin’ me.”
Fuck. Killing him?
You were the one sent in for the kill, but it seems you won’t be making it out here alive.
Because Suguru was so big, girth rubbing up against your thighs. So angry and heavy, smearing hot precum over his abs, your cunt, adding to add to the absolute mess. Long enough that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk out of here - which, honestly, Suguru would’ve preferred. To keep you with him forever.
To have you always mewling so prettily when he’s dragging his fat head down your sensitive slit. To have his name - and only his name - leave your bruised lips when he’s asking, “Who’s got you this wet?”
You’re so cockdrunk already that you’re groaning mindlessly, “You- Suguru-”
“No, that’s not what you call me.”
And it takes you a few, long seconds to understand what he’s saying, all the while trying to focus with the leaky tip being pressed past your swollen folds. Slow. Torturous. Hitting you so violently at the same time he slips past that first, slutty ring of muscle.
“Sugu!”
A blinding grin splits across Suguru’s absolutely fucked-out face, brows furrowing together in ecstasy. “That’s more hah- like it.” Not having heard that familiar little nickname - one of your many - fall from your lips since high school - one that makes a heart he forgot he had grow five sizes too large. “Now, just take me-” Hips bucking up, so strong and ruthless. “-like I know you can, okay?”
Over and over.
You can’t let out anything but barely-lucid whines at this point, letting Suguru sink in inch by fucking inch. Your walls stretched out so perfectly to take his sheer size. But the stretch- oh, the stretch.
Fuck, it has you clawing at Suguru’s exposed shoulders, fingers leaving angry, red marks down the muscles. An obscene ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with each time he reels his hips back, only to bully his aching cock inside until he physically couldn’t.
“Hngh- Sugu, s’too big-” You buck your hips down in shallow, tentative grinds to meet his filthy method of fitting in. “Too- much. Didn’t expect you to be so mean-”
“The sorcerer that hah- held a knife to the infamous Geto Suguru’s neck-” he groans, hands groping your ass to move you further down his massive cock. To watch the way your sloppy entrance was stretching out so much to suck him up. “-can take this too, right? I know you can.” He reaches a deft thumb around to toy with your pretty clit, making your cunt relax like the good girl she is. Fucking up deeper, just a bit more mean. “You- can-”
Several things happen at the tail end of Suguru’s sentence - he’s finally fitting in all in one go. With a calculated, harsh thrust up into your poor cunt, your ass is kissing his heavy balls, pussy rubbing against the hair at his hilt. So full and so much.
And Suguru knows he just might not see heaven - but shit, does he feel like he’s there right now. The feeling so good that both of you letting out mingling gasps of pleasure.
Your back falling onto the now soiled mats like such animals, the other not far behind.
“You alright, my love?” Suguru hums against your throat when you’re managing to adjust somewhat to the stretch, aware enough to kiss the palm resting protectively underneath your head - making sure you don’t hurt yourself.
You bat your teary lashes, “Never been better, Sugu.”
And something about that makes him remember.
Remember the way you’d tell him the exact same thing when you fought with curses too strong for you - coming back to the dorms all battered and bruised, but alive. Flashing him that addictive grin, and a crooked thumbs up, “Never been better, Sugu. Gold, actually.”
His golden girl.
Shaking away the tightness at his throat, Suguru instead focuses on wrapping your trembling legs around his toned waist. Tight.
“Sh-shit- you’re milkin’ me so good, fuck-”
Abs burning as he just drags his cock along your plushy walls, keeping your legs held wide open for him. So tight - like you were sucking the fucking soul out of him. Making sure to angle his hips in just the way that’ll have your eyes tearing at the way he was massaging all your sweet spots.
And sure enough - “O-oh my god-” you breathe, and shit, it was so hard to speak. Suguru’s cock too big, too depraved. Speeding up with every ram of his hips into a steady, mean pace. “Jus’ like that, fuck-”
“Mhm?”
You paw at his free hand settled by the side of your neck, trailing it down, down, down - rings and all - to the part of your stomach you could feel his thick tip hitting. A slight bulge, abusing your cervix over and over, “Here-”
“-s’where I belong.”
Your brows raise at his interjection, and you swipe away the long locks of hair partially covering Suguru’s face, legs tightening around his hips as you take a long, hard look. He repeats, “S’where I belong. Where ngh- you belong.”
Like some deep, dark part of him was trying to fuck out any and every doubt about this out of you - as if you’d have any - Suguru’s rolling his hips harder into yours. All the way until it almost hurt - until the sting of his twitching balls against your ass felt permanent, fingerpads pressing down so hard on your stomach.
Lips searing against yours, punctuating each word with a jagged, rough thrust. “Because you sh-shouldn’t be ah- here. You shouldn’t be-” He drags you deeper onto his dick like some ragdoll, fingers frenzying on your clit. “-with me.”
Words slurring and as sloppy as his hips now.
“Wh-why fuck- why wouldn’t I be?”
“Heh, you forgot?” Suguru spits out a chuckle, pushing you further and further up the mat with how bruising his hips were hitting yours. Alternating between marking your cervix - your g-spot - your gummy walls. “Forgot how I told ya to live a better life than this?” Everything and anything. Hips smacking so loud, echoing in symphony with those melancholy words he parted with so long ago. “How I told you to hngh- find a-another? Live a long life? To be happy?”
Now that Suguru was talking, it was like he couldn’t stop. Like a damn had been broken - both with his words and his movements. The curve of his dick drives you wild, veins molding your cunt into their shape.
Gritting his teeth to hold back the way his drenched balls squeeze so painfully, biting down on your lower lip. “You’re s-supposed to kill me.” A drop of sweat splashing down on your cheek, “To kill me and maybe you’ll be hah- fuck mine in another universe. But not this one.” It’s like he’s out of control now, “Never this one. You can have anybody else.”
And suddenly you’re having a flashback to just a week prior, to an uncharacteristically solemn Satoru telling you words you should’ve been happy to hear. Quiet, and unassuming. Ones you knew that had you heard them before knowing Suguru, you’d have jumped into his arms - exactly how he hoped you would, the day of his departure.
Chuckling at you being such a “crybaby” about him leaving. After all, this was just meant to be, right?
But no.
Instead, you’re here. Bunching Suguru’s beautiful, glossy hair curtaining the sides of your head, into a ponytail. Difficult - with how he was getting faster. Harder. Just ravaging your hole until you were gaping and breathless.
And yet, arms trembling and limp, you still manage to reveal the boy you fell in love with - the one you could never forget. From the flush on his pretty face, to the twisted, sad curve of his mouth. And the eyes that bore into yours like they were searching for the same thing. Smiling, for the first time since you entered this place, “How could I ever want anyone else, Sugu?”
The hand on your stomach is cupping your adorable face so softly - and it’s hard to believe those hands have killed. Betrayed.
Like they were capable of doing anything but as Suguru swipes the single tear glistening down your cheek, “Still a crybaby, huh, my love?”
And then you cum - and Suguru isn’t too far behind.
It’s just a flash of hot white, tingles running down your spine - all the way to the thick, creamy base soon forming around his wildly twitching cock.
And it’s so good. Too good that all you can do it scream out his name, letting him do anything - and you were glad all he did was fuck you so mercilessly through your high. So violent. Addictive.
Vision blurry, mouth sagging open for Suguru to press intimate little kisses along the corners of your mouth. Whispering sweet praises as your cunt sucks him up so good. So sinfully milking him for everything he’s worth.
Taking in rope after rope of thick cum that warms your gummy walls from the inside, overfilling just enough for it to dribble down into the mat below in an obscene little pool. Smearing down your thighs, his balls. Heavenly.
His heaven.
And in the haze of it all, Suguru imagines that you’ll reach for your knife again, press it back against the curve of his exposed neck. He imagines you’ll laugh in his face, tell him what a great whim this was but you had to get back to your job, turning your back on him as he has done before. He imagines.
But what he gets is your strained, fucked-out little voice, “I missed you, my golden boy.”
A/N. Yes, That Line was inspired by HTTYD. If I had to be hurt, y’all do, too.
synopsis. transmigrating into your favourite otome game is fun. pursuing the character you love is fun. being forced to pick another love interest after that… not so fun.
pairing. yandere! rafayel qi x reader
content/mdni. isekai!au (but it doesn’t really matter), kinda DUB-CON. fem!reader, established relationship!au, TW: PSEUDO-CHEATING (you’re forced to take other li routes), yandere!rafayel, dom!rafayel, extremely jealous!rafayel, condescending!rafayel, manipulative!rafayel, mean!rafayel, primal play (CHASE WOOOO), A LOT OF KISSING, fingering, clit play, spanking, slight choking, begging, hair pulling, EXHIBITIONISM, PUBLIC SEX (but not really…), slight nipple play, slight marking, teasing, praise, degradation, pet names (my pearl, whore, good girl, cocksleeve, sweetheart), BUSH RAF, dacryphillia, groping, bruising, tummy bulging, overstimulation + edging (f receiving), reader wears tights, allusion to violence (raf maybe killed some people…), xavier cameo (restrained raf from off-ing him), RAW SEX, creampie, almost knife play.
word count. 7.3k
a/n. here LADS is like a classic otome game — you pick a guy and follow his route, you have a limited number of choices, you need to spend resources on outfits to unlock certain parts of the story and get a good ending! hope you like this one!! please tell me your thoughts! feedback and reblogs are deeply appreciated!
“i will go buy something for us to eat! what do you want?”
he mumbled the question into your ear softly, yet also trying his best to make himself heard over the noisy rumble of the crowd at the fireworks’ festival. you barely registered his question, but not because of the obvious external interference — it was your thumping heart unceasingly hammering against your ribcage that blurred out his voice.
xavier, one of the six possible love interests from the otome game love and deepspace, was next to you. there was barely any distance between the two of you, with him sitting close enough for you to feel his warm breath hovering by your ear.
close enough to feel his plush lips almost touching your heated skin.
“i–”
your feverish daze was cut short by the game interface blinking to life before your eyes, the well-known blueish rectangles of xavier’s route appearing in your field of view.
[meat skewers.]
[cotton candy.]
in the grand scheme of the game, it didn’t matter whether or not you paid attention to xavier’s question. the system was always there to guide you, popping up the two possible directions available for your festival date with xavier and effectively rerouting your previous unrestricted actions.
all these just to follow the necessary game path.
“what will it be, my star?”
xavier hummed once more as he gathered your hands into his, calloused fingers stroking the soft skin of your palms. this was one of the few actions the love interests do to allow you, the player, time to pick your choice.
such mannerisms were previously presented as words on the screen, mere descriptions; but since you have been transported into the realm of the game, you were automatically dragged into live pending sequences.
you were also automatically exposed to very realistic intimate interactions.
“hm?”
his voice was a gentle, warm vibration against your cheek, and it made your mind short-circuit. you were not wobbly because of the choices in front of you, as you were already accustomed to them, but because of the way his lips moved so delicately near your skin… you could almost taste the promise of his kiss, the one that usually happens during your third date with the love interests.
-> [meat skewers.]
[cotton candy.]
you tipped your head back, pretending to look at the darkening sky, pulling away from xavier just enough to clear your thoughts and make a selection.
“meat skewers.” you finally responded, the words feeling like a forced script on your tongue, your true voice mingling with a more mechanical tune as you choose the most favorable option for xavier.
it always felt strange when choosing options from the system, as if your lips articulated the words without your mind participating. like a robot, just executing commands.
“meat skewers it is.” xavier smiled shortly, unaware of the game dominating his very being, exiting the animation he was forced into while you contemplated your two choices.
his fingers brushed yours briefly one last time, like a promise to return soon, before he melted into the crowd, leaving you alone on the park bench, beneath the sparkling aura of the pre-show fireworks.
the silence he left behind wasn’t as comfortable as it should’ve been — it was thick, heavy, similar to the air before a tumultuous storm.
why were you feeling so uneasy all of a sudden?
nothing noteworthy was supposed to happen during this date. it was too early for your relationship to be tested, too early for it to even have a solid, romantic label. only the lingering chance of a first kiss haunted the scenario, but even that was not certain, only determined by your choices and the affinity with xavier at the end of the chapter.
so what ruined the joyful atmosphere of the festival?
as if on cue, the answer made its presence felt. a pressure materialized behind you, familiar and yet terrifyingly uncanny, causing a shiver to prickle down your spine and blow goosebumps all over your skin.
you would learn soon that the what was actually a who.
“so you prefer saltiness now?” the eerie voice murmured into your ear, closing into you just like xavier’s. it was not warm like his though; it was cold, cutting, with a palpable sheen of malice thrown over it. “i remember you said you loved sweet things...”
is that–? impossible.
“am i wrong, my pearl?”
you fully whirled around at the familiar nickname, the short skirts of your dress flapping against your thighs from the sudden movement, completing half a turn and facing the other side of the park.
impossible.
it couldn’t be him, you thought to yourself while shifting your position. there was no way for rafayel, another one of the love interests, to be present during your date with xavier. there was no way for rafayel to appear, at any place or point in time, in xavier’s route.
there was no way for rafayel, whose route you’ve already finished, to subtract himself from the system’s rules and plunge into another route.
it must all be a glitch.
but your eyes, cloudy with confusion, struck the body frame of your previous love interest: rafayel qi was now standing before you, adorning an outfit you were well-accustomed to. by pure chance or something else you were arduously denying, his body was wrapped in a full-body attire that you’ve purchased...
as a matching set with your current dress.
glitch, glitch, glitch–
his smile was the same you remembered — gentle, charming, perfect, curling into an irresistible grin that evoked memories of love and devotion. but his eyes were strangers to yours. they were dark, hollow, like two pieces of charred coral; the pinks and blues and purples were nowhere to be seen, swallowed by the obsessive black of his pupils.
“rafayel?” your voice cracked, uncertainty and caution clawing at your throat, voicing out his name in order to identify him. was he really rafayel? “what are you doing here? this... this isn’t...”
your route, you wished to say, but didn’t, a tiny voice in your head stopping you from causing more errors by exposing the actuality of the otome game.
his expression didn’t falter at your inquiry, but it no longer offered warmth and comfort. his lips turned into a thin, cruel stretch, perverting the two rosy petals you used to kiss with passion in your previous run.
he was smiling at you like a cheshire cat, mockingly, condescendingly.
“what am i doing here?” he echoed, his voice a dark purr against the festive, talkative crowd. he took a step forward, his shoes hitting your own polished heels, and you instinctively drew them in, pushing back from the ground and anchoring your feet away from him.
“i’m cleaning up a mess. that’s what you are, isn’t it? a little, needy mess who got bored and decided to play with the next man she finds.”
his vitriolic words fell over your shoulders like acid, burning your skin with shameful accusations, and drawing a loud gasp from your lips. even the flowy material of the dress felt heavy now, pressing down on your chest and making the previous romantic thump beat at an alarming, frightening pace.
“what are you–? i didn’t–” you stammered, your mind racing with a million thoughts, trying to piece together what was going on.
this wasn’t in the script. nothing about this was.
rafayel was supposed to stick to his route, not overtake xavier’s.
“sweetheart… you know i hate liars.” he snapped, the purr vanishing into a venomous hiss. his hand shot out, fingers closing around your wrist like a steel band, adamant on not letting you run away from him again. “so don’t lie to me.”
“i–i d–don’t understand.” you mumbled, lips trembling, words slurring inside your mouth. your frantic eyes were jumping from rafayel’s frowning face to the harsh grip he had on your wrist, trying to find an explanation for his unusual behavior.
trying to bypass all this as a mere glitch.
that was the only possibility for this scene.
the crowd around you remained blissfully unaware of the nightmare unfolding in your corner of the festival. laughter and chatter swirled like colorful ribbons through the air, punctuated by the occasional crackle of a firework testing the darkening sky. none of them noticed the way your pulse hammered against your throat, or the way rafayel’s fingers tightened around your wrist like a handcuff snapping shut.
“ah, rafayel, please–” you tried to reason with him, but your voice wavered with uneasiness. “you’re hurting me.”
bringing up your perilous state, the way his fingers dug so harshly into your skin it bruised — it had to be enough to bring his softer side to the surface. and it looked fruitful at first, with his grip loosening significantly… but he didn’t release you. instead, he tilted his head, studying your face with an expression so cruel, it caused your stomach to drop.
it was the look of a collector examining a prized possession that had been carelessly handled by someone else.
“hurting you?” he repeated, and there it was! that familiar cadence in his voice, the one that used to make your heart flutter during his route. but now it sounded wrong, twisted into something acrid. “i would never hurt you, my pearl. i love you. i’ve loved you since the moment you first appeared in my world.”
his free hand came up to cup your cheek, and you flinched. the gesture was so reminiscent of the gentle rafayel you’d fallen for during his route, the one who painted sunsets for you and whispered sweet nothings by the sea. but this palm was cold against your heated skin, and his thumb traced your cheekbone with a possessiveness that made your skin shriek in fear.
“but you....” he continued, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper at your recoil. “you’ve been very, very bad, haven’t you? playing with another man, leading him on. letting him touch you.”
“i didn’t–” you started, but the words died in your throat.
what could you possibly say? that you were following the game’s mechanics? that none of this was real? the interface flickered in your peripheral vision like a silent reminder of the system governing this world.
but rafayel was standing right in front of you, loud and solid and seething, proof that the system’s rules meant nothing anymore.
“the festival.” rafayel murmured, glancing around at the oblivious crowd. his smile returned, but just as a faux stretch of the lips. “how romantic. xavier chose fireworks for your date?” he laughed, not expecting an actual answer from you; he was just highlighting the evidence of your betrayal.
“i would have chosen something more... intimate. a private gallery, perhaps. just the two of us. no crowds. no interruptions.”
your eyes darted around desperately, searching for an escape. the game interface flickered again, glitching at the edges of your vision. you saw xavier’s icon blinking in the corner, signaling his return — unlike rafayel, he was trapped on the path the game had scripted, with a few more minutes to overcome before reaching your current spot.
3 minutes remaining.
if he were to get here, you’d be locked in an animation.
if he were to get here, rafayel would be expulsed from the picture.
if he were to–
“why so hopeful, my pearl? aww, is your knight in shining armor close?” he leaned into you, his tall frame blocking the light from the closest street lamp and drowning you in shadows. his snarl was visible from miles away, yet he felt the need to grip your face and drag you closer; your weirdly smushed lips were almost touching his bitter smile.
2 minutes remaining.
“no, no, no, we can’t have blondie ruining our fun again!”
“wait, raf–”
his fingers on your wrist went solid again, as if made from the strongest metal, clutching your arm at once and forcing your entire being up and away from your park bench. you struggled against his grip, pulling and hitting at his hand with all your might, but nothing seemed to work on rafayel.
fueled by possessiveness and jealousy, his digits nestled deep into your flesh, blooming deep bruises in their wake as he dragged you further and further away from yours and xavier’s spot.
“rafayel, stop! please, where– why–”
but he was silent… or silenced, his jaw locked tight in what looked like self-imposed restraint. he was holding himself back, legs speeding up as they dashed between the sea of people at the festival, a clear goal dominating his mind.
but what? what was rafayel chasing so arduously that he couldn’t even lash out at you?
“rafayel, let’s talk, please!”
the system spoke in rafayel’s stead.
2 minutes remaining… -> event on pause.
warning! you are too far from the designated event area. please return to your spot.
the words appeared in glowing blueish text, and you almost lost all the air in your lungs. was that his goal — to go as far away from the event spot so xavier would never progress on his return?
“w–what did you do?” your voice trembled as you asked, bracing your legs and forcing your heels to root into the ground. the jagged cobblestone pieces came to your rescue, allowing your heels shelter and aiding you in stopping rafayel’s incessant stride.
“please let me go.” you tried to break free from his harsh grip again, forcing yourself to meet his blown-out eyes. they were so dark now, the beautiful gradient you loved so much replaced by something fathomless and hungry. “you’re scaring me. this isn’t you.”
“not me?” his chuckle was sharp, hostile. “oh, sweetheart. this is exactly who i’ve always been. you just never had to see it.” he stepped closer, his hand lifting your wrist closer to his face, forcing it to cup his cheek in a loving gesture. “i was so patient with you. so gentle. i gave you my heart, my everything. and what did you do? you ran to another man’s arms the moment you grew bored.”
“that’s not how it happened–”
“you abandoned me.” his voice cracked, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the rafayel you knew — the vulnerable artist who painted his feelings into every canvas. “and you want to do it again.” but his voice grew in intensity once more, as if the vulnerability from before was just a slip-up.
rafayel acted fast, caging you with his entire body, searching for your free hand with his own unused one. to take hold of both members and have you fully succumbing, at his mercy.
rafayel acted fast, but his situational awareness lessened. that’s why he didn’t intercepted your move.
that’s how he ended up with a stinging slap across the face.
your palm throbbed with the impact, fingers tingling from the force of the contact. rafayel’s head had snapped to the side, his cheek blooming with an angry red mark that stood out against his pale skin. for a moment, neither of you moved. the world seemed to hold its breath around you, the festival sounds fading into a dull hum.
“you are not the man i loved.”
the words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, trembling with a mixture of fear and fury. your chest heaved, every breath feeling like shards of glass scraping against your lungs.
“ha, ha, ha, ha…”
rafayel slowly turned his head back towards you, and what you saw made your blood run cold. the red mark on his cheek was already beginning to darken into a bruise, bulging at the inner press of his tongue. but his expression wasn’t one of pain. no, it was something far more terrifying.
he was smiling.
“you little minx.” he spat, hand finally freeing your wrist to feel around his affected cheek. “you’ll regret this.”
he mumbled some more threats, but you were no longer there to listen, already turning around and picking up the pace. you stumbled slightly on your heels, something between adrenaline and terror latching onto your body, and you decided on the spot to discard them for the greater good — meeting with xavier at your spot as fast as possible!
bare footed, only with your thin tights protecting your soles, you ran between the people celebrating the firework festival, twisting and turning between the groups and mixing in with the crowd. but you made the mistake of turning back, to check on rafayel and see what putrid plan he was pursuing.
and to your surprise, rafayel wasn’t chasing you. he was simply standing there, watching you flee with that same unsettling smile, his vengeful hand raised to carefully touch the bruise forming on his cheek. it was as if he was savoring the moment, relishing in the chase.
in the way you ran away so so scared.
his behaviour was unsettling… but so were the surroundings.
“what??”
the people around you… they weren’t moving anymore. a vendor was frozen mid-laugh, his hand extended towards a customer who was equally still, her mouth open in delight that would never be voiced. a child running past was suspended in mid-stride, a sparkler frozen in his raised hand.
they had all stopped. like someone had pressed pause on the entire world.
the event, you realized with dawning horror. you were not in the right spot, so the entire world was on pause.
did rafayel knew about this?
… there was no point in asking him that.
so you pushed through the frozen crowd, your feet lapping against the cobblestones in a rhythm that felt far too loud in the sudden silence. the bench, the one you’ve occupied at the beginning of your date, was in sight. as long as you got back to the spot where xavier had to return with the meat skewers, to where the scene was supposed to continue, the world would return to normal.
and maybe rafayel would disappear.
maybe this nightmare would end.
you were twenty feet away. ten feet. your hand reached out towards the stone slats of the bench, fingers stretching with excitement and relief–
an arm hooked around your waist, and a hand clamped over your mouth before you could react.
2 minutes remaining… -> event on pause.
you were yanked backwards, your tights-clad feet scraping against the cobblestones as rafayel dragged you behind the nearest festival stall. the painted wood of the booth loomed above you, colorful banners advertising games and prizes frozen in the fluttering lull of a dead wind.
“shh, my pearl.” rafayel murmured against your ear as he pressed your back further into his own body, his breath hot and uneven against your agitated pulse point. “you didn’t really think i’d let you get away, did you?”
you thrashed against him, your muffled screams swallowed by the palm pressed firmly against your lips. his other arm was an unmoving belt around your waist, pinning you against his chest. you could feel his heartbeat through his shirt — rapid, erratic, nothing like the calm, composed rhythm you remembered from his route.
“stop fighting me.” he hissed through gritted teeth, irritation palpable in his voice. the hand blocking your mouth descended, choosing to catch your chin and turn your head to the side. “you can’t escape me, no matter how much you try.”
and then–
“ugh!”
you felt the rough wooden surface of the stall bite into your back as rafayel spun you around, the world blurring into a smear of festival lights and frozen faces. the impact knocked the breath from your lungs, and before you could stabilize yourself, his hands were on your waist — gripping, crushing, claiming.
“go awa–” you started, but the words dissolved into a choked sound as his mouth descended on yours.
there was nothing gentle about it. no tenderness, no hesitant exploration like the soft kisses from his previous self. he was conquering you. his lips crashed against yours with a fury that turned your knees to jelly, and when you tried to pull away, his hand shot up to tangle in your hair, holding you in place with merciless precision.
this wasn’t him. this wasn’t the rafayel you loved.
but his tongue pressed against the seam of your lips deliciously, demanding entry, and some traitorous part in you allowed him in. he swallowed your whimper as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with possessive strokes that left no corner untouched, no part of you unclaimed.
“you were mine first.” the words were purred against your lips, barely coherent, lost in the wet sounds of the kiss. his teeth grazed your lower lip, tugging at it hard enough to make you gasp. “you chose me. you loved me. and then you–”
he broke the kiss abruptly, but his hands didn’t relent. one stayed fisted in your hair, tilting your head back at an angle that bared your throat to him. the other began its slow, devastating journey across your body, dancing over your collarbone, cupping the swell of your breasts, molding down the curve of your waist until his fingers dug into the dip of your hip.
“then you just decided you wanted more.” his voice cracked, and for a moment, the mask of cruelty slipped to reveal something raw and bleeding beneath. “you woke up one morning and erased me like i was nothing.”
“that’s not it.” you started, but his hand pulled at your hair harshly, cutting off your protest with a whimper.
“quiet.” the single word was sharp enough to draw blood. “don’t soil your pretty lips with lies, sweetheart.”
his hand moved from your hip to your thigh, gripping the visible tights, where your dress had ridden up. his fingers dug in, painfully so, offering pressure that drew another high-pitched moan from your throat. it was hard to resist him, with his lean body pressing you into the wood of the stall, his scent flooding your senses, his warmth seeping through your thin dress like a fever you couldn’t shake.
with his cock tenting in his pants, poking at your legs with every move.
“rafayel.” his name came out as barely a whisper, broken and trembling, and you couldn’t tell if fear was the only thing fueling it.
“shh.” he cooed as he leaned in, pulling the roots of your head further into the stall and forcing your wet lips to be on display. “i’m going to make you remember. i’m going to make you remember exactly who you belong to.”
his mouth found yours again, and this time he was adamant in changing your mind. his hand also continued their exploration, mapping every curve of your body with the desperation of a man who had been starved. fingers traced the line of your spine, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. he gripped the fabric of your dress, bunching it upwards inch by inch, until your bottom half was fully exposed.
only your skin-coloured tights and your panties keeping your frail dignity.
“you’re mine.” his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat, wetting the skin in their wake and prepping it for marking. “i spent so much time learning every sound you make, every place you like to be touched. i’ve memorized the way you shiver when i kiss you–”
his mouth found the spot just below your ear, the place that always made you gasp during your previous escapades. and you gasped now too, a sharp inhale that betrayed you completely.
“there.” his voice was triumphant, dark with satisfaction, wet lips curling into a smirk against your skin. “i knew you remembered. i knew you couldn’t forget.”
his teeth punctured the sensitive flesh of your neck, and your hands, which had been frozen at your sides, finally moved. but not to push him away or fight… your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clutching it with the same desperate intensity he was showing you, pulling him in and silently begging for his lips on your throat.
“raf, ah– please.” the words escaped before you could stop them, a broken confirmation that made him pull back just enough to meet your hazy eyes.
“you just needed a stimulant.” his tongue slipped out to circle the bite mark, smearing the evidence of his ministration across your skin. “to remind you that you can’t just leave me. you can’t choose someone else. you’re mine, my pearl. you’ve always been mine.”
his lips found yours again, and this time you kissed him back unprompted.
somewhere in the chaos of fear and confusion, the muscle memory of his route had taken over. your body remembered him even when your mind was screaming that this was wrong, that this wasn’t how the game was supposed to go.
and he felt it. he tasted it.
“there she is.” he breathed against your lips, a mingle of relief and pride. “there’s my sweet girl. i knew you were still in there.”
his hand left your hair, sliding down to grip your waist as he pressed you harder into the stall. the wall creaked behind you, and somewhere in the frozen distance, you heard the faint crackle of a firework that would never explode. even with his body molded against yours, with the heat of him seeping through your dress like scorching fire, the system called once more.
screaming about your abandoned event.
“xavier–” you mumbled out loud as the icon blinked to life briefly, and immediately regretted it.
rafayel’s grip tightened the moment his name was let out. his eyes flashed with something dangerous, and the soft warmth of the moment shattered like glass.
“don’t...” he hissed, a threat and a warning at once. “don’t you dare say his name while i’m kissing you.”
“n–no, i just–”
“shut it.” he cut you off with another kiss, a shorter yet more punishing press of his lips. he looked like he wanted to devour you whole. “you don’t get to play on both ends. you don’t get to be a needy whore and then expect mercy.”
his hand returned to your tights, digging his nails into the thin material… and effectively ripping it open with a whirring sound.
“ngh, raf–”
you let out as his hands came down on you, slapping the bare, meaty flesh and letting it giggle beneath his calloused palm. then he crawled higher, his fingers tentatively grazing the edge of your flimsy underwear, taunting you. you were trembling beneath him, in newfound fear and scorching pleasure, a strangled sound catching in your throat from the sudden turn of events.
“kissing is not enough, huh?” his lips hovered over yours, so close you could feel the movement of them as he spoke. “you need more, a deeper reminder of our love.”
deeper had an entirely different twist; you could tell from the way his right palm spread over your lower tummy, thumb nestled at the base of your pussy while his pinky finger reached up, towards your belly button.
“am i wrong, my pearl?”
.
.
.
“n–no, rafayel.”
the pause stretched between you, and rafayel’s smile returned at your compliance — that smug, knowing smile that made your stomach flip.
“exactly.” he murmured. “that’s exactly what i thought.”
his pinky pressed harder against your navel, punctuating the deepest spot he was to reach, and you felt the heat of his promise seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. his left hand, which had been gripping your thigh with bruising intensity, relaxed its hold, allowing the pads of his fingers to inch higher.
passing the jagged material of your ripped tights and zeroing into your drenched panties.
“fuck, you’re so wet already.” he breathed, his eyes raking over your face, cataloging every micro-expression with predatory precision as he finally touched you where you wanted. “all this just from a few kisses?”
his hand traveled higher, palm flattening against your pussy through the damp fabric of your panties. the pressure was maddening: just enough to make you feel it, not enough to give you what you craved. your hips twitched involuntarily, pushing into his hand and seeking more.
his smile sharpened into a cruel curve at your needy movements.
“ah–ah.” he tutted, clicking his tongue at your eagerness. “behave, my pearl. good girls wait. good girls beg.”
heat flooded your cheeks at his command, a mixture of humiliation and desire swirling around your head. your fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt, knuckles white with the effort of holding yourself together.
but the pulsing feeling between your legs spoke louder than logic.
“please.” you mouthed between whines, a quiet surrender you dreaded and loved at the same time. “ngh–”
press.
“please what?” his thumb found your clit through the soaked cotton, pushing down in a slow, torturous circle. your breath hitched, a broken little sound escaping your throat. “use your words, sweetheart. i know you can. you had plenty of them earlier, didn’t you? chatting away with xavier.”
his name was like a blade, sharp and venomous, cutting into you in the most degrading ways. you felt the shift in him immediately: the playful cruelty from before hardened into a darker version, a version that made your body stutter with a different kind of fear.
“i–” you started, but he cut you off with a sharp pinch to your clit. your sentence was turned into a sharp gasp, your head tilting backwards and hitting the wood with a loud thud.
“i changed my mind.” he said between gritted teeth, voice deceptively soft against his visible dissatisfaction at remembering xavier. “you don’t get to speak right now. not after what you did.”
his fingers found the waistband of your panties once more, and with a swift, brutal motion, he pulled them aside. cool air kissed your exposed, sensitive flesh, and you shivered violently, your legs trembling beneath you.
“you stood there…” he continued, his thumb tracing the seam of your folds, parting the slick lips fully and letting your swollen clit peek out. smothering your arousal all over your skin as if marking territory. “holding his hand. smiling at him. like you belonged to him. like you forgot who you really belong to.”
his middle finger dipped lower and found your entrance, slipping in just enough to make you jolt, then retreating before you could clench around him. a frustrated whimper escaped your lips, and he laughed at your desperation.
“did you think about this?” he approached your pussy again, two fingers gathering against your gaping hole, not entering, just resting there, taunting you. “did you think about xavier touching you the way i’m touching you now? did you imagine his fingers inside this dirty little cunt while you held hands?”
“no.” the denial came out breathless, desperate, your chest rising and falling again and again. “rafayel, please, trust me–”
“liar.” he spat the word, and his fingers plunged inside you fully without warning. you choked on a moan, your back arching off the rough wood of the stall as he pumped them in and out with punishing speed. “you’re such a liar, sweetheart. but i can fix that; i’ll fuck the lies right out of you.”
his fingers curled inside you, finding that gummy spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. and you sobbed his name — a broken, pathetic sound that only seemed to fuel his fury. his thumb found your twitching clit once more, resuming its harsh circles as he drove you towards climax.
“you’re mine.” he growled against your throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin with the intention of marking. “say it. say you’re mine alone.”
“i’m–” your voice fractured as his fingers hit deeper and deeper. “i’m yours, rafayel, please–”
“begging again, my pearl?” his pace slowed all of a sudden, turning cruel and teasing, his fingers dragging against your walls with calculated slowness. “tell me what you want, sweet girl. and maybe — maybe — i’ll give it to you.”
your mind was a hazy, a blur of pleasure and humiliation that overlapped and combined dominating your very being. the pressure was building in your core, a coil tightening with every stroke of his fingers, every rasp of his voice against your skin.
you were close, so close.
“please let me cum.” you pleaded, the words spilling out like a confession. “please, rafayel, i need it, i need–”
“and what makes you think you deserve it?” he withdrew his fingers entirely, leaving your pussy empty and aching. a choked sob of protest tore from your throat, nails scraping at him, but he ignored you, choosing to grasp your thigh with his slicked hand. “what makes you think you deserve to cum after parading yourself in front of xavier?”
his hand jumped away from your leg, only to come back down harder — as a cutting slap.
“it doesn’t matter whose fingers are inside you as long as you finish, hm?” his breath fanned hot against your ear as he spilled a plethora of vitriolic words, prodding once more at your dignity and loyalty. “i might have to fuck you after all. break in your tight little cunt and make sure you remember me for good.”
“ugh– raf– please–”
“you like that, don’t you?” he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze a storm of dark possessiveness. “dirty fucking whore.”
the heat of his body was prominent against your semi-naked frame, a searing line of possession that dug and scorched your exposed skin with every touch. his left hand, firm and demanding, curled around your thigh, grasping your asscheek and hoisting your leg high against his hip. exposing you fully to the cool, frozen air of the festival.
the rough wood of the wall bit into your shoulder blades harsher in the new position, a somewhat grounding pain against the overwhelming ache of his touch.
“look at me, sweetheart.”
you felt why, then.
the thick, heavy shape of his cock, still confined by the straining fabric of his dress pants, was an undeniable intruder that nudged against your inner thigh, opening you for him. a choked gasp escaped your throat when it made contact with your abandoned cunt, your hips twitching involuntarily towards the thing that was to pleasure you immensely.
“tsk, tsk, tsk.” he clicked his tongue, a soft, chiding sound that reverberated through the quiet of the glitched game.
but you whimpered more, your hips bucking against his bulge, desperate for any friction. there was no relief to be earned though.
only a cruel chuckle.
“so pathetic, my pearl.” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate purr. with your leg nicely wrapped around his hip, he removed his hands from your lower half, rerouting to your neglected upper body. with delicate fingers, respectful for the dress that matched his outfit, he unbuttoned the clasps hiding your cleavage. letting his hungry eyes devour your tits. “such a perfect little whore. and all mine.”
rafayel guided his aching fingers to your perky nipples, grasping the hardening nubs and pinching just enough to hear you cry out, just enough to see your back arching in ecstasy.
“now…” with a final squeeze of your tits, he set them free, allowing them to poke out the unbuttoned v-cut of the dress. “i’m going to give you what you want. but you’re going to take every inch of it, and you’re going to thank me for it. understand?”
“y–yes.” you breathed, almost on autopilot, no longer able to discern what was happening. you just needed relief. “yes, rafayel.”
at last, his attention moved down to his waistband. with a teasing motion, he unbuttoned his dress pants and pushed them down, freeing his bare cock to the air. it was thick and heavy, the tip flushed a deep, angry red, glistening with a hefty amount of precum. his balls sat heavy at the base, partially hidden by purple pubic hair.
“oh, shit!”
he grasped his aching length, giving it a few tentative pumps as he positioned himself above your cunt.
and you watched, almost drooling, as he dipped the head between your folds, teasing your engorged clit with a slow, languid drag. the sensation was electrifying, stimulating the nerves that have been denied relief just a few moments ago.
you moaned and shook, your body trembling in anticipation.
“such a needy thing.” he crooned, his voice laced with a mixture of disdain and adoration. “look at you, shaking for my cock. you’ll take it so well, won’t you? you’ll take it like you always did, sweetheart.”
“mhm– will, raf–el.” you confirmed, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “please fuck me. please, i can’t– i need you inside me, please–”
he positioned the mushroomy head of his cock at your entrance, the pressure a promise of the fullness to come. you held your breath, your entire body screaming for him to finally, finally thrust inside. but as he went to push into you, your ruined panties, still bunched to the side, slipped down and blocked your entrance.
“fuck!” he hissed, the curse blooming on his lips in an instant. his eyes, dark and stormy moments before, now burned with an incandescent rage.
in a flash, his sleek dagger materialized in his hand, its blade suspiciously stained with something crimson and ominous. it was the same blade you’d seen him wield before, a weapon that was always used in battle.
what was he–?
with a furious grunt, he dragged your panties forcefully to the side, digging the material into your hip… to pin them against the wooden wall. and then, with a savage lunge, he plunged the dagger through the fabric, trapping them to the wood.
the sound of the blade biting into the wood resonated loudly, a sharp, violent crack that echoed across the system of the game.
“ngh, ah–”
the panties were now held hostage by his dagger, the blade so close to your heated skin you could feel the danger of bloodied cuts and scratches. but the looming danger also bubbled that nefarious arousal in your tummy — the act was so possessive, so corrupting.
rafayel had literally pinned your underwear to the wall with his bloody blade, a macabre trophy of his ownership.
“there.” he grunted, hoping no other obstacle would appear. “now the way is clear.”
as if nothing happened, his hand returned to your thigh, hoisting it higher against his hip, his grip rough and unwavering. he lined himself up with your entrance once more, the tip of his cock nudging against your parted folds.
there was no more teasing, no more slow torture. this time, he was going to take what was his.
“eyes on me, sweetheart.” he commanded, his voice reaching a desperate growl. his orbs, swallowed by the black of his lustful pupils, stared into your matching eyes, full of a possessive fire that needed to be quenched. “i want you to watch me fuck you stupid.”
and with that, he thrusted inside.
he filled you in one slick, brutal stroke, stretching your walls wide around his thick cock, making your tummy bulge visibly from the intrusion. the sensation was irresistible, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that stole the air from your lungs. you cried out, your nails digging into his clothed shoulders as he began to move. his pace was punishing and relentless from the very first thrust, wishing to leave his imprint on your poor pussy.
“fuck.” he groaned, his head falling forward to rest his forehead against yours. “so tight. so fucking perfect, just like i remember it. this pussy was belongs to me.”
he didn’t wait for you to adjust, didn’t give you time to stabilize yourself. he pistoned into you with a desperate, animalistic need, each jut of his hips driving you harder against the rough wood of the stall. the sound of his sensitive skin slapping against yours filled the air, a filthy, wet rhythm that was punctuated by your broken moans and his husky grunts.
“r–raf, so good.”
the dagger vibrated with every thrust, ringing next to your hip as a reminder of rafayel’s devotion to you. your ruined panties were tight against your skin, soiled by your combined arousal, stretched beyond possibilities by the bloody knife. the sight of them — a symbol of your most intimate and vulnerable side, pinned there by his sturdy claim at ownership — was quite representative of the relationship between you two.
“that’s right.” he praised, his hand moving from your thighs to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at where you two were connected: your battered pussy greedily devouring his slobbering length. “taking my cock just like you should. this is all you’re good for, isn’t it? being my perfect little cocksleeve.”
tears bloomed across your waterline, his stinging words prickling at you, but you still nodded, unable to form words against his verdicts. his thumb, still sticky from fingering you, found your clit once more, rubbing figure eights that pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
“please.” you choked out, your voice a ragged sob. “please, rafayel, i’m so close. please let me–”
“you can cum when i tell you to.” he cut you off, snarling at your unceasing, ungrateful requests. he slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming deeper, more precise, hitting your cervix repeatedly. “but first, i want to hear you say it again.”
“say wh–hat?” you gasped, your mind too hazy to remember what was he hinting at.
“tell me who you belong to.” he demanded, his hand digging into your jaw to make you more attentive. “tell me who this cunt belongs to.”
“you.” you sobbed, the word broken and desperate, tears freely falling across your cheeks and cascading down his hand. “you, rafayel. i’m yours. this pussy is yours, it’s all yours, please–”
“good fucking girl.” he purred, and his voice finally shimmered with satisfaction. humming in approval, he resumed his brutal pace, slamming into you with renewed vigor. “now cum. cum for me. let me feel you lose yourself to me.”
the command was all you needed. your orgasm crashed over you like a humongous wave, your body convulsing against his as you cried out his name. your inner walls clamped down on his cock, milking him dry as he continued to thrust through your climax, his own release not far behind.
“thank you, tha–k y–u, thk u–”
“fuck.” he moaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you one last time. “fuck, yes. that’s it. take it, take every last drop.”
hot spurts of seed flooded your insides, rafayel successfully reclaiming what was once his. his hips didn’t stop even after reaching climax, balls tightening yet unceasingly slamming against your pussy as he sought your overstimulation.
alas, his movements gradually slowed until he was just holding himself inside you, his lips pressed against yours, feeding on your whines.
the silence that followed was broken only by the sound of your labored breathing and the soft rustle of the clothes as they fell back into place. he pulled out slowly, his cock slipping from your oversensitive flesh with a squelching pop, creamy cum escaping soon after. in spite of the ministrations you’ve suffered, you whimpered at the loss, at the feeling of emptiness that was almost as overwhelming as the fullness you’ve experienced seconds ago.
“now you get it, my pearl? no matter what you do…” his gaze was still intense, still possessive, as if his fervor wasn’t quenched. “or what you say…” he then looked at the dagger, still pinning your panties to the wall.
with all your trembling and quivering, the material encouraged the blade to cut into the panties — they were utterly ruined, dissected at the seam, only relying on the back section. yet, even cut up, the dagger was sturdy, pinning the remnants of your panties nicely into the wall.
tags: @yuunileb, @txtworlddom, @xyzsbaobei, @loreleis-world, @demonicangelll, @hearts2vivi, @glitterykingdomangel, @gardenialily, @weirdothatwrites, @cherrytokkiz, @brailsthesmolgurl, @happyshark2222, @velomira, @darkchococwoissant, @thealunari, @starswillseeus, @ninalove323, @lumichella, @amanehyuga, @txtworlddom, @milumier, @someonestopsoren, @lettushi, @jadeloverxd, @hellothisisnanaaa, @ops-esion, @thealunari, @maplewood-valley, @massivebanananut, @livanavier, @rafayearning4eternity, @ellarksworld, @i-idk-i-guess, @sweetestxia. if you see this and want to be added to the main taglist, please let me know!
modern au 𖧷 husband!toji fushiguro 𝔁 wife!reader 𖧷 angst oneshot!
warnings. angst, mdni. hurt NO comfort. he's been gone on a job for years. mild mentions of violence, painful reunion, megumi needs a hug. yes i cried while writing this. song inspo here and here if you want to listen along
based on this request from my send a song and a character post.
masterlist | wc: 4.8k
"did he tell you what exactly happened?"
you frown at the sight over the woman's shoulders. your son, megumi, was staring at a paper in front of him that you couldn't make out. his left eye was clearly bruised, purple-toned and swollen.
"i'm sorry, mrs. fushiguro. i only came after i heard the students make a commotion."
you hadn't heard someone call you that in forever.
"it's miss. i'm not married."
"apologies, miss fushiguro. although—i've been meaning to reach out to you about megumi's performance in class lately. he's a bright child, but i noticed he's quite distant. disengaged from lessons, antisocial during free time. i hope that's something you can talk to him about…?" his elementary teacher stares at you with the same expression you've seen since the moment you'd been put in this role. pity.
we're worried about you and the baby.
no mother should have to raise a child alone.
someone ought to step in for him, find a man worthy to be his dad.
you've heard it all before. and all of it sickened you.
no one could have convinced you that your life was going to end up this way. you had dreams prior to your twenties of a life defined by a full home of laughter and joy, a partner you could rely on and luxuries you needn't worry whether you could afford to have or not.
"… yes, well. i'll talk to him, thank you for letting me know. have a good day." your mind was elsewhere as you took your tight-lipped son out of the classroom, and the silence stretched all throughout the car ride home moreover. you snuck a couple glances into the backseat and he still held that far away look in his eyes as he stared out the rainy window.
when you entered the dimly light apartment you two shared, you set his backpack and things on the breakfast nook. megumi could tell you were gearing up to say something, so he stops in the hallway after he's pulled off his ratty red tennis shoes. you wondered when exactly he'd learned that silence; swallowing his thoughts instead of sharing them with all the graceless honesty children his age were supposed to have.
"megs honey, c'mere."
"i'm okay, mom."
you give him a softly stern look and his mouth presses into a thin line. for a second, you see the argument forming behind his eyes, but he seems to think better of it. begrudgingly, megumi pads his way back toward the kitchen and climbs onto one of the stools at the breakfast nook.
you stand in front of him.
up close, the bruise looks worse and your stomach twists.
"who hit you?"
"it doesn't matter."
"megumi."
"he got hit too."
you blink. goodness, those public school teachers really don't pay attention. "thank you for letting me know, but that's not what i asked."
his gaze drops toward the counter. the refrigerator hums behind you, rain tapping unevenly against the balcony doors. you take a slow breath through your nose before speaking again.
"your teacher said there was a fight. she didn't see what started it." you pause, studying his face. "so i'm asking you, because i'd like to know what my kid has to say first."
something in your voice makes him look up and you soften immediately. god, he was so little. sometimes you forgot.
megumi had always carried himself with an odd seriousness that made people speak to him older than he was, so much so even you were guilty of it sometimes. he'd been tying his own shoes before the other kids in his class, packing away his own belongings without being asked, checking that the front door was locked whenever you came home late from work. he never even begged for toys or new gadgets, and that should've worried you sooner.
you reach out carefully, brushing your thumb underneath the uninjured side of his face.
a cute little pout formed on his mouth. "he was being annoying, okay?"
"you punched someone because they were annoying? that doesn't sound like you."
"makoto said something stupid about you." his jaw clenches. you knew the kid's mother, a rather standoffish lady you grew up with. born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
you know that face. it's the one with a stubborn furrow between his brows, the one he gets whenever he doesn't understand why the world refuses to operate according to the rigid sense of justice that reminds you far too much of someone you once knew. your son was never the violent type, but there were a couple things that he felt deeply passionate about.
you weren't oblivious, you knew there probably were questions from classmates. why doesn't your dad ever come to school events? where did he go? is your dad dead?
children were curious, but they were also capable of being cruel without knowing the difference.
"what did he say about me?"
megumi's eyes flick toward yours before dropping again.
"he said you must be bad."
your brows knit together in confusion. "bad?"
"he said it's your fault dad left us."
the words settle heavily in the apartment. you don't find words to respond quickly enough, so he continues.
"and he said his mom said women like you can't keep men."
you had gotten good at ignoring adults. from distant relatives with loud opinions that talked behind your back, to "well-meaning" acquaintances who had looked at you like your life was an unfortunate cautionary tale instead of something you'd fought tooth and nail to build. it was unfortunate children were malleable clay that parroted what they heard.
"so i punched him, 'cus that's not true."
your gaze snaps back to your son. megumi looks almost defiant now, chin tipped slightly upward. oh, your poor baby boy.
"he shouldn't have said it."
"i agree, he shouldn't have."
his expression changes slightly, surprised by your quick support. he was sure you were getting ready to scold him. "but you still can't punch people, my love."
"why?"
"because that's not how i taught you to solve your problems."
megumi slides off the stool suddenly, frustration working across his features. "he wouldn't stop, mom!"
"then you should've told your teacher."
"she wouldn't do anything!"
"you don't know that."
"yes, i do!"
the certainty in his voice catches you off guard.
"they always say stuff, and nobody cares!"
his face crumples for half a second before he forces it away. the anger dissipates, and you can see the tears forming in his eyes. your chest tightens painfully.
"hey… hey."
you crouch down in front of him. megumi immediately looks elsewhere. you knew he hated to cry in front of you nowadays.
"look at me."
you wait until eventually, reluctantly, those watery dark eyes meet yours.
"you don't have to defend me."
"i do, you're my mom."
you shake your head. "no, baby. you don't."
he hates when you call him that now. usually you'd get an immediate grimace, some irritated insistence that he wasn't a baby anymore. this time however, he says nothing.
"like you said, i'm your mom." your hands settle gently on his shoulders. "i'm supposed to protect you, you're not supposed to spend your day worrying about protecting me." you can tell he's listening. his lower lip is still trembling despite how hard he's trying to keep it still.
"you know what matters more than what they say? what you know." your hands move to cup his tiny face. "i know who i am, and i know who you are. nobody gets to decide either of those things for us."
you pull him into your chest without a warning and megumi stiffens instinctively, embarrassed by affection even in the privacy of your apartment but you don't let go. after a few seconds, the tension leaves his shoulders and his forehead presses into the crook of your neck.
"the next time this happens, you tell me," you murmur against his hair. "if your teacher isn't listening, then i'll make her listen."
"you'll embarrass me."
you smile despite yourself. "yeah, i probably will."
"mooom!" even though he sounded irritated, a muffled laugh escapes against your shoulder. there he was. your fingers comb gently through the spiky, shaded mess of his hair. you stand up, walking towards your noisy fridge and grab a frozen bag of peas from the freezer.
"now sit back down and put this on your bruise before your eye swells shut. can't have my kid looking like rocky." he climbs onto the stool again, obliging without protest. though, a question mark appears on his face.
"who's rocky?"
you groan. "honey, you're making me feel old."
the rest of the evening passes quietly. you make dinner and megumi finishes most of it while complaining that the vegetables taste weird despite them being the exact same vegetables he'd eaten two nights ago without complaint. you let him have the argument this time. after today, you figured he deserves one meaningless victory.
by the time the rain settles down outside, the apartment has grown warm with that particular nighttime stillness you'd learned to appreciate. the television plays quietly from the living room while you wash two plates in the sink, and megumi is sprawled on the couch doing his homework until you tell him to wrap up for bed.
when he's finally changed into pajamas and climbed beneath the blankets, exhaustion has taken over your son. his bruised eye still looks awful beneath the warm light of the bedside lamp, and even though you'd checked it several times throughout the evening, you find yourself inspecting it once more as you sit beside him and gently sweep his bangs away from his forehead. megumi tolerates the attention for a few seconds before sinking deeper into his pillow with a sigh.
"mom, you've looked at it like a hundred times and it still looks the same, i don't think staring is going to make it disappear."
"i'm aware that glaring at a bruise is not medically proven treatment, thank you very much smartypants." you chide, smoothing the blanket over his chest before your expression softens again.
"megumi, honey, listen to me because i'm being completely serious right now. i know i don't always have every answer. our life isn't exactly like everybody else's, but there has never been a day where taking care of you felt like a burden i wished i could put down. you are my favorite person in this entire world. even though i don't condone what you did today… between you and me, that kid deserved it."
megumi's mouth twitches slightly. "you said i shouldn't have punched him, but you also said he deserved it... i think you're sending me mixed messages."
you let out a quiet mocked gasp and gently pinch his cheek. "i said no such thing."
"you kindaaaa did."
"i kinda-absolutely-did-not! goodness, this conversation is supposed to be about how deeply and unconditionally i love you, you little menace."
that manages to get a small laugh from him, and the sound immediately fills you with happiness. you bend down and press a long kiss against his forehead, then rest your hand against his hair as you speak more quietly. "can i get an 'i love you' for the road?"
he watches you for another moment before mumbling an "i love you". you smile and brush your thumb over his temple before standing.
"goodnight, megumi."
"goodnight, mama."
the sincerity in his voice pangs in your heart. you hadn't heard him call you mama in a good while. when you glance back, he's already curling toward the wall with the blanket tucked underneath his chin. you leave the door cracked the way he still secretly prefers and stand there for several seconds longer than necessary, watching until his breathing begins to even out.
only once you're back in the kitchen does the weight of the day settle. you feel pathetic for letting makoto's cruel comment ruin your night, even more so because you know it wasn't really the child who'd gotten beneath your skin. perhaps, part of you still worried they were right. not about megumi—never about him. but rather about yourself. you stare at the half-clean kitchen for another minute before deciding you've had enough emotionally mature mom-ing for one evening.
"fuck it," you whisper to yourself, opening the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulling down the cheap bottle of wine you saved for moments like this. you pour yourself a generous glass and carry it toward the living room. after a few bitter sips, a knock echoes from the front door. for a few seconds you wondered whether you'd imagined it due to how late it was. another rap comes a moment later, heavier and more deliberate this time.
you set the wine glass on the coffee table and glance toward the hallway by habit, checking that megumi's bedroom door remains undisturbed before approaching the entrance. nobody you knew had any business coming over at this time without calling first, and the uneasiness gathering in your stomach only worsens as you lean forward and look through the peephole. your entire body goes cold at the realization. what a sick coincidence.
there was no logical reason for toji fushiguro to be standing outside your apartment after years of silence. you unlock the door but keep the chain latched, opening it only enough to stare at him through the narrow gap. "i'm assuming there's some emergency happening, because i can't imagine another reason you would think showing up at my apartment without warning was even a remotely acceptable thing to do."
toji's gaze moves over your face before flicking toward the chain. "wow, nice to see you too."
you almost laugh at the audacity. "you don't get to feel any kind of way right now, toji. i didn't ask you to come here."
his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "if you're planning on turning this into an argument, save yourself the effort because i didn't come here to fight with you."
"unless you have something useful to say, i suggest you leave."
toji exhales through his nose, his patience already wearing thin in that familiar way that used to drive you insane. "can you open the damn door first? i don't feel like airing our personal shit where every fucking person on this floor can hear us."
you scoff in disbelief. you remember all those months passing without so much as a text message, and whatever sympathy that was threatening to surface disappears immediately.
"you gonna let me in or not?"
you stare at him for several long seconds before shutting the door in his face. there's an immediate thud against the other side.
"babe, seriously?"
"i'm taking the chain off, jackass. don't call me that."
the hallway falls quiet. you remove the chain and reopen the door, stepping aside just enough for him to enter.
"five minutes, toji. i'm serious. i've got work and megumi has school tomorrow. unlike some people, we operate with an actual schedule."
his eyes narrow slightly as he walks past you. "you always gotta throw something in there, don't you?"
"you give me plenty of material."
you close the door quietly behind him and fold your arms across your chest. there had been a time when toji's presence could consume whatever room he entered, when you knew the shape his jacket in the back of your mind and exactly where he'd kick his shoes despite you asking him a thousand times not to leave them in the walkway. now, he looks almost displaced.
his gaze drifts across the apartment and you hate yourself for noticing every place it lands. megumi's backpack is still on the breakfast nook with his homework folder peeking out, the corner of one worksheet folded where he'd erased too aggressively earlier. the frozen bag of peas sits abandoned beside the sink, already softened enough that condensation covered it. from your shared past experiences, he knew you always kept a spare bag when he came home from a bad job. toji's eyes linger there.
"something happen?"
you know better and should've lied because the last thing you needed was to give toji ammo to stay longer. alas, your honesty betrays you.
"megumi got into a fight at school." toji's attention snaps toward you so quickly that you immediately regret saying anything.
"what? our megumi?"
that jilts you. when did he believe he had any claim over your son?
you answer flatly. "he's fine."
"what do you mean he got into a fight?"
"i mean exactly what i said, toji. before you start working yourself up, i've already handled it and he's sleeping now."
his expression darkens. "just tell me what happened."
you exhale slowly and move toward the coffee table, reaching for your wine because you need something to do with your hands when you got on edge. "another boy said something, megumi punched him, the other kid hit him back. he has a little shiner, that's it."
"what did the kid say?"
you take an extended sip.
"mm, it doesn't concern you."
"stop, don't do that."
you look at him over the rim of your glass. "don't do what?"
"hide whatever caused this. obviously it fucking matters if a level-headed kid like megumi hit somebody first."
"interesting. coulda fooled me that you're the expert on my child."
the words leave your mouth before you can stop them and toji's jaw ticks. you know what strikes his nerve.
"see, there it is."
"there what is?"
"the actual reason you let me in."
you laugh humourlessly. "you think i invited you inside because i've been waiting forever for an opportunity to argue with you? trust me, toji, i've had plenty of mental arguments when you were gone and they were all more productive than this."
"then tell me what happened instead of playing games."
"i'm not playing games."
"tell me what the fucking kid said!"
you stare down into your glass. you wish, more than anything, that you didn't still possess this stupid, ugly desire for toji to hear what happened and react correctly. not violently or defensively, not with the same pride that had poisoned half your conversations while you were together. that small part of you that still loved him hard wanted him to understand and kiss away your tears and tell you it was going to be okay.
"he told megumi it was my fault you left."
toji's eyebrows pull together, and you continue before you lose your nerve.
"apparently his mother has some opinions about me, and like most people who don't know when to shut their mouth, she shared them where her son could hear. he told megumi that women like me can't keep men, and megumi punched him because he thought he had to defend me."
toji looks away, but you see it. that flash of guilt.
"that's fucked up."
you wait, but nothing else comes. your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass.
"that's it?"
his gaze returns to you. "what do you mean, that's it?"
"i don't know, i suppose i imagined there might be something more substantial. finding out your son got into his first real fight because another child was making fun of him and his mother for not having a father around means nothing, then?"
his expression twists. "don't turn it into that."
"turn it into what?"
"you know what i mean."
"actually i don't, so please explain it to me. i'm dying to know what exactly you're insinuating."
"you're making it sound like i wanted to fucking leave."
you stare at him. you don't even feel angry, just stunned.
"didn't you, though?"
toji exhales sharply, already irritated by the direction the conversation has taken. ""no, of course not. you know damn well that's not how it happened."
"that's funny, because i don't remember being given much information to work with."
his jaw shifts. "you knew what i did for a living."
"don't you dare."
"i'm not throwing it in your face, i'm saying you knew there were gonna be times i couldn't tell you everything."
"everything?" you repeat incredulously, lowering your glass. "toji, i knew you killed people for money, i think we were several miles past the point of expecting full transparency about your work." his expression tightens, but you continue before he can interrupt. "i knew what you were capable of before i ever decided to build a life with you, what it meant when you disappeared. i knew better than to ask names or know where you were going, and god knows i learned very quickly not to ask when you'd be home because half the time you couldn't answer me anyway."
toji's gaze drops.
"you'd leave for a three day job and come back after five, and we'd fight about it because i was worried sick spent those extra forty-eight hours wondering whether something had happened to you. you gave me lousy apologies and we'd move on. those were our bumps, toji. i understood because i had no other choice."
"this wasn't like those jobs, it was high risk."
you laugh quietly, but there is nothing remotely amused in it. "high risk and you took five fucking years."
you hated stating it literally because the duration of his absence felt easier to manage when you didn't give it a time. time blended together more kindly that way, reduced to birthdays and school pictures and clothes megumi outgrew rather than one enormous stretch of life in which toji simply did not exist. a blip where your husband should have been. instead, you lived life like a widow.
"i couldn't contact you, it was too dangerous."
you study his face waiting for signs of bluff, but toji isn't lying and that made it worse.
"and not knowing nearly destroyed me. you don't know how hard it was to care for megumi without knowing whether you were alive or not."
your words shut him up. you set down the glass before your hands can fail with how badly they've begun to shake. you press your lips together, but the emotion has already climbed too high in your throat to force back down.
"i didn't know whether you were somewhere choosing not to call me or whether you were lying dead in a ditch."
"i wasn't dead."
"fuck, i know that now!"
your voice jumps before you can stop it. your eyes dart toward the hallway. the anger drains from your face and toji notices.
"baby, i was trying to come back."
"i said stop calling me that. i don't care because trying didn't help me when megumi had a fever and i was so terrified i stayed awake all night to make sure he was breathing. or when i had to choose between missing work and watching him because daycare fell through even though i wasn't making rent that month."
"did you not get the money i sent you? i thought it was covering something, but—"
"what money are you talking about?"
the irritation that had been taut across his features falters. "the money i sent every month."
you stare back at him with such complete disbelief that his brows slowly upturn, and the horrible realization begins creeping across his face before you even have to answer him. "there was no money. not one cent from you showed up after you disappeared. if somebody convinced you otherwise, then congratulations on trusting the wrong person with the well-being of your family."
"that's not fucking possible. he told me it was handled."
a scoff. "congratulations, you were scammed."
toji drags a hand down his face as he turns away from you, and for once there is no immediate rebuttal, only restless movement as he paced the room. "i left enough to cover the apartment for a long time. i sent it in portions so it wouldn't look suspicious. the whole point was making sure nobody could trace anything back to you or megumi."
"well whoever you trusted clearly decided he needed it more than we did, because i spent the first year after you disappeared selling half the shit we owned just to keep us from drowning."
his head snaps back toward you. "if i'd known there was even a chance the money wasn't getting to you, i would've found another way."
"i don't care about the money, toji!"
toji goes completely still. you let out a shaky breath before continuing, an ache growing in your stomach. "i showed him pictures of you when he cried. i would tell him fairy tales about where you were, but megumi got older and smarter and knew they were pathetic excuses. he stopped asking about you."
"it fucking kills me inside that i missed everything. please, you have to give me a chance."
you blink.
"tell me what i missed. i already know saying i had reasons doesn't magically erase what happened. but he's my son and you're still my wife, and maybe that doesn't mean shit to you anymore—but it means everything to me."
his gaze made you stir still after so long, and the anger between you seems to collapse beneath the exhaustion of finally saying something neither of you had been willing to acknowledge.
"he looks like you when he smiles." your voice cracks when you say it. "every single day he gets closer to looking like your copy. there were so many nights where i'd cry myself to sleep with a picture frame of you. i don't hate you, toji, and that is part of what makes this so fucking unbearable. i needed my husband."
the confession rips out before you can reconsider it. you feel a tear roll down your cheek and finally realize you'd begun crying. he steps closer, slow enough that you could easily move away, but your heartbeat stumbles and you stay put. his hand lifts toward your face, cupping your cheek and you instinctively lean into the touch. his knuckles brush carefully beneath your eye to wipe away stray tears. you should stop him.
your shared muscle memory moves faster than good sense and when his mouth finds yours your body answers out of pure habit. your hand catches automatically against the front of his shirt, and you lean your entire body into the feeling. then reality hits. you pull back so quickly that your shoulder bumps against the edge of the wall, and the sudden nausea rising through your stomach forces you to press one hand against your mouth while the other shoves weakly against his chest.
toji moves away immediately. "shit, i shouldn't have done that."
you stare at him through watery eyes. the look on his face makes you feel worse because he doesn't appear triumphant or smug or even hopeful, only devastated that you seemed regretful.
"i'm sorry."
"you need to leave."
"i swear, i wasn't trying to push you into anything."
you wipe furiously beneath your eyes, your demand still standing. his gaze shifts briefly toward the hallway before returning to you, and the longing there is so obvious that it feels invasive even though he makes no move toward megumi's room.
"just don't let him forget about me, even if you don't tell him i was here tonight."
he pauses.
"i will always love you. to my dying breath."
your face crumples before you can stop it. "get out."
toji's expression breaks slightly, but he nods and pulls the door open without another word, leaving with a click.
you lock the door the instant it closes, your knees finally giving out. you sink onto the floor beside the entrance with one hand clamped over your mouth because the first sob leaves you far louder than you intended. you press your palms against your eyes until colors burst behind them, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet enough that megumi won't hear.
however, you don't hear the faint movement from the bedroom down the hall. megumi stands barefoot just beyond the edge of the living room, mostly hidden by the darkness stretching, with one hand curled tightly around the doorframe and the blanket he'd dragged with him gathered against his chest.
he had woken sometime around the first raised voices, disoriented enough that he'd nearly called for you before recognizing the unfamiliar man's voice coming from the living room. his father had been standing inside their apartment.
and you, his mother, was sitting on the floor beside the front door with her face buried in her hands because of him.
he doesn't approach you. instead, he watches with tears gathering silently in his own eyes before retreating toward his bedroom as carefully as he can manage, closing the door behind himself and crawling beneath the blankets without turning on the light. i hope the bruise stays, he thought to himself. i don't want to look like him.
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“Your big brother won't touch you...but he can touch me. Can’t you, Caleb?”
“...Yes.”
“And I can touch her. Can’t I, kitten?”
“Yes.”
“Then look at that...look at how convenient that is.”
synopsis: your boyfriend is a hockey star. your brother is his rival. you’re tired of playing referee between them—until sylus decides he wants to be the one in the middle.
wc: 8.8k | ao3
tags: explicit sexual content, pseudocest, proxyfucking, kissing, dry humping, cunnilingus, spit as lube, voyeurism, vaginal intercourse, missionary, creampie, aftercare
a/n: help, i’ve fallen for gegecest-enabler sylus "just the tip" qin and i can’t get up……..
“You’re dripping.”
Caleb cracks one eye open. The bag of frozen peas you set at his neck fifteen minutes ago has gone soft, condensation tracking down his throat and disappearing into the collar of his henley.
“I’ll get him a new couch.”
You cross your arms and raise a brow. “With what money.”
“He can add it to my tab. Right under the chiropractor bill.”
“Careful with the tab, captain,” Sylus warns drily. “I’m very creative about collecting, and I’m starting to think you enjoy owing me.”
Caleb chucks a pillow across the room. Sylus catches it without flinching and tucks under his arm like he won it fair.
“You boys—” you look between Sylus, settled into his armchair like a throne, and Caleb, sprawled on the couch “—are going to play nice.”
“We’re behaving,” Sylus says.
“Barely,” Caleb adds.
Sylus shrugs. “Barely counts.”
They’ve been like this since tonight’s game. Before the game, actually. Since the first time they met on the ice two seasons ago, since something sparked between them the first time your brother knocked your boyfriend flat on his ass only for the silver-haired menace to come up smiling.
Tonight’s third period had been ugly. Caleb’s team down two, Sylus’s team running clock, and somewhere around the seven minute mark Caleb had taken Sylus into the boards in a way that could have looked accidental from the cheap seats and looked extremely on purpose from the bench. Sylus answered with his fists. The refs let them go for longer than they should have. Both were ejected, and you’d watched them get walked off in opposite directions like dogs separated mid-fight while five thousand people screamed.
You’d had the idea on the walk back to your dorm. Stupid. Catastrophically stupid.
Come over, you’d texted Caleb. Sylus’s place.
Three bouncing dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. He’d called you instead.
“You’re out of your mind, pips.”
“Probably.”
“Meimei.”
“Gege.”
He released a long, suffering breath. “Why?”
“Because I love you and I love him and I’m so tired of being caught in the middle like this.”
“He gave me a split lip.”
“You gave him a bloody nose.”
“And you think this is a fix?”
“I think it’s a try.”
He showed up an hour later, of course. You’d never asked Caleb for something he didn’t give you.
“How’s the nose,” Caleb says without opening his eyes.
Sylus touches the bridge of his nose, more out of habit than concern. “Fine.”
“Shame. Could’ve sworn I did more damage.”
“You always did overestimate your impact.”
“Overestimate?” Caleb’s eyes finally open. “I’ll overestimate my fist up your—”
“Okay!” you interrupt, lifting both hands in surrender. “New rule.”
“This should be good,” Sylus says under his breath.
“Each of you has to say one nice thing about the other,” you announce. “One. Single. Nice. Thing. And then we can move on with our evening like adults.”
“I am being an adult,” Sylus counters. “I haven’t poisoned his drink.”
You scoff. “That’s baseline human decency.”
“For me, sweetie, it’s generous.”
Caleb snorts. It’s the first sound he’s made in Sylus’s direction that isn’t hostile, and you watch Sylus clock it with a small flicker at his eyebrow.
“Caleb,” you say. “You first.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re in his apartment drinking his whiskey and bleeding on his furniture, and I think that earns him a compliment.”
Caleb stares at the ceiling for a long second, jaw working, like you’ve asked him to move a mountain with his bare hands.
“He’s fast,” Caleb says, finally.
“Fast,” you repeat.
“On the ice. He’s fast. Faster than he should be for his size.” Caleb pauses. “It’s annoying. Like a cockroach.”
“That’s not exactly a compliment.”
“It’s adjacent.”
You look at Sylus. “Your turn.”
Sylus takes a sip of whiskey, holding it in his mouth for a moment as he turns over his options. He swallows and tilts his glass toward Caleb.
“He doesn’t quit.”
Caleb glances over.
“Down two,” Sylus says. “Most players know when they’re beaten. He apparently lacks that particular survival instinct. Played the last seven minutes like he could bully the scoreboard into changing.” He takes another sip. “It was irritating.”
“So we’ve established you’re both fast and stubborn and you hate each other for it,” you say. “Wonderful. Truly groundbreaking diplomacy.”
“You asked for one nice thing,” Sylus says, swirling his glass. “That was one nice thing.”
“That was one nice thing wrapped in three mean ones.”
“What can I say? I’m efficient.”
“You’re efficiently a prick,” Caleb fires back.
“Mm,” Sylus hums, entirely unbothered. “Is that what you say when you don’t have a comeback, or is that what you say when your sister’s watching and you want her to think you’re tough?”
Caleb sits up. Drains his whiskey in one go, sets the glass on the table, and lets the bag of peas slide from his neck and thud to the floor.
“Watch it, pretty boy,” he says, eyes narrowed.
“It’s a genuine question. Because you do the same thing on the ice. All those big hits, the scrapping, mouthing off at the refs. It’s very impressive. Very masculine. Especially when she’s sitting third row.” Sylus tilts his chin toward you without taking his eyes off your brother. “Must be exhausting, carrying a crush that obvious for that long. I’m surprised she hasn’t said something.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“She’s a kind girl. Probably doesn’t want to embarrass you.”
“I said shut your mouth.”
“Or maybe she likes it. Having her big brother panting after her like a dog at the door every time she—”
“That’s enough!” you yell.
Both sets of eyes snap to you. You’re not one to raise your voice, and they both know it. You don’t know what you’re going to say next until you’re already saying it, and by then it’s too late:
“If you can’t talk it out, maybe you should just kiss and make up.”
You know it sounds wrong the second it leaves your mouth. You’re tired and tipsy and your brother and your boyfriend are having a conversation about you like you’re not in the room, and all you wanted was for them to stop, and what resulted was the dumbest sentence you’ve said in your entire life.
You try to chase it with a laugh that doesn’t quite land. The room doesn’t laugh with you.
You scramble to walk it back. “Kidding. Obviously. God, your faces. I’m going to get more ice—”
Sylus sets his glass down. The sound of crystal on marble is small, though it lands like a gavel.
“Interesting,” Sylus says.
“I was joking,” you reply, too fast.
“Were you.”
“Yes.”
“Hm.”
Sylus rises from the armchair, crossing to the couch in three steps. He holds out a hand to Caleb.
“What the hell are you doing?” Caleb asks.
“She asked us to make up,” Sylus says simply. “I’m making up. Stand up, captain.”
“You’re out of your goddamned mind.”
“She’s been mediating between us all night, and she’s running out of patience.” Sylus’s hand is still extended, patient and unmoving. “Your poor sister has spent two years trying to keep us from killing each other. The least we can do is give her what she wants for a few seconds.”
Caleb tries to look unbothered, but you catch this jaw tightening at your poor sister. ”She was being sarcastic.”
“Was she?” Sylus glances at you over his shoulder. “Sweetie. Were you being sarcastic?”
You should say yes. You should laugh it off and go get more ice and let the night fade into something survivable.
You just can’t seem to make yourself do anything at all.
Sylus turns back to Caleb, eyebrow raised. See?
“Fine,” Caleb says. “Fine. One kiss.”
He doesn’t take Sylus’s hand. He stands up on his own, because of course he does, and squares up in front of Sylus with his shoulders braced like he’s about to take a penalty shot.
“One kiss,” Caleb repeats.
“One kiss,” Sylus agrees.
Sylus cups the side of Caleb’s face, thumb settling by the butterfly bandage at his brow. Caleb swallows hard, but doesn’t pull away.
“Relax, sweetheart,” Sylus teases. “It’s a kiss. We’ve gotten more physical over a little black puck.”
Caleb’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his face carefully impassive. “Get on with it, pretty boy.”
Sylus leans in and kisses him.
It starts as nothing. A closed-mouth press, chaste, just sufficient enough to satisfy your request. Sylus’s hand stays at Caleb’s jaw. Caleb’s hands stay at his sides. It’s two men doing something for the benefit of a third person they both care deeply about, and nothing more than that.
Then Caleb’s mouth moves.
It’s the smallest shift—his lower lip catches against Sylus’s, and you watch Sylus notice it—tilting his head to change the angle, transforming the kiss from nothing to everything in the span of a heartbeat.
Caleb’s hand comes up to Sylus’s collar, fisting the cotton there. Not pulling, just holding, his split knuckles going white behind their tape. Sylus makes a small sound, approval or surprise or both. His hand slides from Caleb’s jaw to the back of his neck and he deepens the kiss, mouth opening against Caleb’s slowly, like he’s afraid to startle him, afraid for the moment to vanish, and Caleb lets him.
The kiss isn’t for you anymore.
You can see the exact moment it stops being a performance and starts being something private. Caleb’s other hand comes up, both fists in Sylus’s shirt now. Sylus’s fingers curl into the hair at Caleb’s nape, tugging gently. The sounds shared between them are wet and obscene and utterly, nakedly honest.
Your hands are in your own lap, fingers laced tightly together. You’re watching your boyfriend kiss your brother and the thing you're feeling isn't jealousy or shock or any of the things you are supposed to feel. What you feel instead is heat pooling low, the kind that makes you press your thighs together and the friction of your jeans agonizing.
Sylus pulls back first, turning his head just enough to look at you. His eyes scan yours, drop to your lap, then return to your face. His mouth tilts, and he’s beside you on the couch in three strides.
Caleb stands frozen in place, mouth still slightly open.
Sylus pats the empty space beside him. “Sit down, captain.”
Caleb sits.
Sylus settles between you, one arm stretched across the back behind your shoulders, the other behind Caleb’s.
“Well,” Sylus says to no one in particular. “That was overdue.”
Caleb is staring at the muted TV, jaw working, suddenly captivated by what might be the least consequential Division III basketball game of all time. His lip is bleeding again, the split reopened from the kiss, but he makes no move to wipe it clean.
“Caleb,” you say.
“Don’t.”
“Your lip—”
“I know.”
“It’s bleeding again.”
“I know, pips.”
Sylus reaches over and swipes his thumb across the corner of Caleb’s mouth, catching the blood. Caleb flinches but doesn’t pull away. Sylus studies his thumb for a second, then wipes it on his own jeans, satisfied.
“Good kisser, by the way,” Sylus says lightly. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
Caleb closes his eyes.
“Very direct. Bit aggressive. Holds on like he’s afraid you’ll leave.” Sylus glances your way. “You should try it, sweetie.”
Whatever lust-drunk haze you were in is sliced clean through by the implication, cold and brutally sobering.
“Try what,” you murmur.
“Kissing him,” Sylus clarifies. “You should try it. I think you’d like it.”
Heat floods your face. “Sylus.”
“Hm?”
“You know we can’t—that he’s—” you gesture vaguely between yourself and Caleb, then toward Sylus. “—and we’re—”
“Why not? Because we’re dating?” Sylus asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Or because he’s your brother?”
Your stomach falls through the floor.
Because you thought you’d hidden it. You’ve been so goddamn careful—with your eyes, your hands, the way you angle your body when Caleb sits too close and the way you laugh at his jokes exactly as long as a friend would and not one second longer. And Sylus just picked up everything you’ve been hiding and set it on the coffee table between the three of you, and now you’re all staring straight at it, and there’s no putting it back.
“Both,” you say. “Obviously both.”
“What if it’s neither,” Sylus says, holding both of you in the loose parentheses of his arms, as if he doesn’t find any of this complicated at all. ”What if the problem is that you’ve both wanted each other for so long you’ve turned it into something you’re not allowed to have, and the not-being-allowed has gotten so big you can’t see past it anymore.”
Caleb is staring blankly at the TV again. His throat works around his response.
“She’s your girlfriend, Sylus.”
“She is.”
“And I’m her—”
“You’re her brother. Yes. You’re also in love with her. We all know this. We’ve known it all night. We knew it long before tonight.” Sylus inspects his nails, nonchalant. “So let’s stop building the case and move to the verdict, shall we?”
“Sylus,” you whisper.
“Sweetie. Look at me.” You do. He’s giving you the look he gives when he wants your full attention, a look he doesn’t use often and one you’ve never been able to refuse. “Listen to me. Both of you. I’m going to say something, and I’m going to say it once, and after I say it neither of you gets to pretend you didn’t hear.”
You nod. So does Caleb, in sync, and you watch the small flicker pass across Sylus’s eyes that means he noticed.
“Your big brother won’t touch you,” Sylus says to you. “You know that. I know that. He knows that. He’s spent—how long, Caleb?”
Caleb blinks up at the ceiling.
“How long,” Sylus insists.
“Since I was thirteen.”
“Since he was thirteen. All those years deciding he’s not going to touch you. He’s not going to undo that tonight. Not for me. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
Your heart beats so heavily you’re certain the whole room can hear it.
“But,” Sylus continues. His arm tightens behind your shoulders. His other arm tightens behind Caleb’s. “He can touch me. Can’t you, Caleb?”
“...Yes.”
“And I can touch her. Can’t I, kitten?”
“Yes.”
“Then look at that. Look at how convenient that is.”
Caleb leans out of Sylus’s reach, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Did I knock something loose up there, Qin? Lay into you a little too hard tonight?”
“Not nearly hard enough.” Sylus smirks, the amusement fading into something more focused. “Nobody touches anybody they’re not supposed to touch tonight. Everybody goes home having had exactly the experience they pretend they didn’t want.”
“That’s a nice speech. You rehearse that in the penalty box?”
“I had five minutes. Figured I’d make good use of them.”
“You’re delusional.”
“And you’re still here.”
That lands. You see it hit in the way Caleb’s mouth opens and stays there, the argument dying in his throat. Because he could leave. The door is right there. He has a car. A phone. Yet he’s sitting under Sylus’s arm and hasn’t taken a single step toward any of them.
Sylus sees it, too.
He reaches up and catches Caleb’s jaw, thumb finding the split in his lower lip, and presses into it. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to feel.
Caleb hisses through his teeth. His hand wraps around Sylus’s wrist but doesn’t pull it away.
“Unless,” Sylus says, his thumb resting in the seam of Caleb’s mouth, “you’d rather go back to arguing about hockey.”
Caleb doesn’t argue. He doesn’t say yes, or nod, or do anything at all except sit there with Sylus’s thumb against his lip and his hand around Sylus’s wrist and his chest rising and falling faster than it ever has on the ice.
That’s enough for Sylus.
He tilts Caleb’s jaw down and kisses him, tongue working in slow and unhurried strokes, like he has the whole night and intends to use every second of it. His thumb slides to the hinge of Caleb’s jaw and rests there. His other hand stays on your shoulder, keeping you close. Keeping you watching. A warm, heavy, point of contact that says stay and watch this and you are not going to look away from what I’m doing to your brother’s mouth.
Caleb’s hand finds the back of Sylus’s neck, and you inhale sharply.
Sylus pulls back at your gasp. His hand leaves Caleb’s jaw and finds yours with the same grip, thumb at the corner of your mouth, fingers curving under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes scan yours, and something in his expression comes alive and hungry.
“Open, sweetie.”
He kisses you, and it’s a kiss you know. The shape of his mouth, the pace, the pressure of his tongue against yours. You’ve kissed this man so many times you could map it blindfolded.
But there’s something in his mouth that isn’t his.
It takes you a second to place it, a warmth that doesn’t belong to Sylus. A faint copper edge that blooms on your tongue when his presses against it. The blood of a split lip. Caleb’s, carried on your boyfriend’s tongue, delivered to yours with each stroke. You whimper against his mouth, and feel Sylus smile into the kiss—a small, satisfied flex that says his hypothesis just proved correct.
“There,” he says quietly, pressing a parting kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Now you’ve had him, too.”
On the couch behind him, Caleb’s eyes are focused on your face—specifically on your mouth, more specifically on the place where his blood is still sitting on your lower lip and you haven’t wiped it off.
“Now,” Sylus says, turning back to Caleb. “Your turn, captain.”
Caleb opens his mouth and Sylus kisses him, tongue sweeping wet and slow and thorough. Caleb’s teeth close around Sylus’s bottom lip and hold, pulling, tasting the sweetness that’s sitting on Sylus’s lip from yours. The bite pulls a low sound from Sylus’s throat, his eyelids fluttering at the pressure, and Caleb doesn’t let go. If anything he sucks harder, desperately chasing your mouth the only way he’s allowed to.
Sylus finally pulls back with noticeable effort, running his tongue over his own lip where its newly swollen.
“Well?” Sylus asks, amused and knowing. “Could you taste her?”
“Apple.” Caleb swallows. “Green apple.”
The words hit you hard and low. Your Chapstick. The one he’s bought for you in bulk since you were in middle school and keeps in his glovebox because you always lose yours. The one he tosses into your lap without comment every time you get in his car, the one you reapplied before walking into this apartment.
“Yeah,” Caleb says, rougher. “Yeah, I could taste her.”
Sylus’s mouth curves. “Good.”
“Again,” Caleb says to Sylus, not asking. “Kiss her again.”
Sylus obliges. He turns to you and claims your lips, longer, dirtier, a thin strand of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away. He turns to Caleb, who catches it with his mouth before Sylus finishes turning, desperate and graceless and nothing like the controlled athlete who commanded the ice earlier tonight. Caleb’s hand comes up to the back of Sylus’s head and holds him there, kissing him harder, letting Sylus feed him the taste of you, only pulling apart when his lungs burn for air.
“More,” Caleb groans.
Sylus huffs a laugh. “Greedy.”
“More, Sylus.”
The rhythm turns hypnotic. Sylus kisses Caleb, turns, kisses you. Kisses you, turns, kisses Caleb. Each pass filthier than the last, a little more urgent, carrying more of your brother to you—not just his taste but his small, wet sounds, his shallow breaths, the barely-held-back noises he keeps making against Sylus’s tongue that Sylus carries to you like gifts.
You don’t know how you end up pressed together.
Caleb’s thigh is flush against Sylus’s, their shoulders overlapping. You’ve managed to end up in your boyfriend’s lap, straddling his hips. And Sylus keeps one hand on each of you the entire time, one at your hip now, the other on Caleb’s bicep.
You lean in after one of the passes and catch Sylus’s mouth before he’s fully turned away from Caleb, the kiss off-center and messy, and you taste Caleb so strongly that your hips buck against Sylus’s.
Sylus laughs. He gives your ass a teasing smack.
“Bedroom,” he says.
Caleb pulls back, eyes widening. “Sylus—”
“We’re moving this to the bedroom. This couch costs more than your car, and your sister’s about to ruin it.”
You frown. “I am not—”
“Sweetie, your hand is on his belt.”
You look down. Your hand is, in fact, on Caleb’s belt.
Not through Sylus, just—your hand, on Caleb’s belt buckle, fingers curled around the leather, and you don’t remember putting it there and you don’t remember Sylus guiding it, and you’re dangerously close to not remembering why this whole thing was ever a bad idea in the first place.
You pull your hand away like it’s been burned.
“Bedroom,” Sylus repeats, an order rather than suggestion. He stands, bringing you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He eyes Caleb and tips his head toward the hallway. “Now.”
Nobody argues.
Sylus’s bedroom is all dark wood and low light, with a bed that takes up most of the space. It’s a mattress you’ve been on a hundred times. You know how the sheets feel bunched in your fists, how the pillow positions your hips at just the right angle when he puts it under your stomach, how the comforter feels around your shoulders when he tucks you in with a kiss to your temple.
You have no idea how different it’ll feel with three people on top of it.
Sylus deposits you in the middle of the bed before crossing to his nightstand.
“Caleb,” Sylus says. He turns the lamp down another notch. “In or out. I won’t ask twice.”
You watch your brother from the doorway, his gaze flicking to and away from you, like the sight of you—leaning back on your elbows, lips kiss-swollen, hair a little mussed, eyes alive and wanting—is too much to bear.
He steps in, locking the door behind him with a loud click. “I’m doing this for her.”
“Of course you are,” Sylus says.
“I mean it, Sylus. This isn’t—I’m not here for you.”
“Nobody asked you to be.”
“Good.”
“Good.” Sylus reaches behind his neck, pulling his shirt up and over his head. “Clothes. Off. Both of you.”
“All of them?” Caleb asks, still lingering by the door.
Sylus drapes his shirt over the back of his desk chair. “Leave the underwear. We’re not animals.”
“Debatable,” you mutter, and Sylus’s mouth twitches.
The three of you strip in silence, shirts tossed aside, all three pairs of jeans hitting the floor at different speeds— Sylus’s first, folded; yours next, kicked off the edge of the bed; Caleb’s last, shoved down and stepped out of.
You’ve seen your brother shirtless—at the beach, after a shower, when he mows the lawn in the dead of August. What you haven’t seen is your brother in gray boxer briefs that do nothing to hide the way his erection strains against the fabric, tight enough that you can tell where the head of his cock meets the shaft, that you can see the darkened spot at the tip where precum bleeds through.
Caleb catches you staring, eyes finding yours and holding them until you’re the one that breaks. Your cheeks burn violently, fingers fumbling with your bra clasp like you’ve forgotten how it works.
“Eyes up, captain,” Sylus warns, moving to the foot of the bed. “She’ll still be there in a minute.”
“You going to coach me through this like it’s a power play?” Caleb grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.
“If that’s what it takes. You never could finish without a setup.”
“I have fourteen goals this season.”
“And how many assists?”
Caleb's mouth opens and shuts.
“...Shut up.”
Sylus huffs out a laugh. He pulls you to the edge of the mattress by your ankles, and you yelp.
“I’m going to tell you where to look all night, sweetheart. Get used to it,” he says to Caleb before turning his attention back to you. “Lie back, kitten.”
You settle back. Sylus stands between your legs, one hand braced beside your head, and for a moment it’s just the two of you. He kisses your throat, your collarbone, mouth moving down the center of your chest slow and warm. His free hand finds your waist and holds there, thumb tracing the skin above the waistband of your underwear.
“Caleb,” Sylus says against your skin. “Behind me.”
“I’m not cuddling you, Sylus.”
“Nobody’s cuddling anybody. Get behind me. Hands on mine.”
“This isn’t—”
“For her, captain. You’re doing this for her. Remember?”
Caleb positions his knees on either side of Sylus’s calves, chest close to Sylus’s back but not quite touching. He braces one hand on the mattress, the other settling over Sylus’s at your waist, lining up finger over finger, his broader palm bracketing Sylus’s against your hip. The added weight presses Sylus’s grip firmer into your skin, and you arch up into it.
“There,” Sylus says. “Feel her through me. When I move, you move. Yes?”
Caleb’s voice is barely there. “Yes.”
Sylus’s thumb traces up the curve of your waist. Caleb’s follows—riding the back of Sylus’s hand, tracking every motion. Sylus’s hand slides to your ribs, and Caleb’s follows, up and around. Sylus’s fingertips graze the underside of your breast and you gasp, and Caleb’s knuckle catches the edge of your skin where Sylus’s hand doesn’t fully cover.
Caleb freezes.
“I didn’t—I—”
“Caleb…” you whisper.
You look up at Sylus, but he doesn’t intervene. He watches your face from above, letting you be the one who tells Caleb what’s allowed.
“It’s okay, gege,” you decide. “You don’t have to stop.”
Caleb’s hand unfreezes. His fingers resettle over Sylus’s, and they keep moving.
The next touch isn’t an accident.
It’s the back of his ring finger, tracing a line along your ribs that Sylus’s hand doesn’t cover. A quarter-inch of contact, gone, then back—his pinky, grazing the curve of your waist as Sylus’s hand slides lower, gone just as fast. Ghost touches, so minimal you could pretend they didn’t happen. Caleb finding the gaps and pressing into them, testing, learning you through the spaces between your boyfriend’s fingers.
“Sylus,” you whisper.
“I see it, sweetie.”
“Is he—”
“He’s being creative.” Sylus’s mouth lifts. He shifts his hands enough to widen the gaps between his fingers by a fraction, adjusting his grip to give Caleb more room. “I’m allowing it.”
Caleb presses closer behind Sylus. His chest makes contact with Sylus’s back, and the added weight pushes Sylus’s body down against yours.
“Caleb,” Sylus says, in warning and permission at the same time.
“I know.”
“You’re on top of me.”
“I know. That doesn’t mean I like you.”
“You liked me just fine on the couch.”
“That was—that was the situation. That was for—”
“For her. Yes. You’ve mentioned.”
Sylus lowers his mouth to your breast. His tongue traces the curve, teeth teasing your nipple, and you arch up into him. The motion presses your hips against his, and Sylus’s hips press back against Caleb’s, and Caleb—
Caleb grinds forward.
It’s a small, involuntary roll of his hips against Sylus’s ass that pushes Sylus’s hips into yours, and you feel the force of Caleb traveling through Sylus like a wave cresting against you.
Your mouth falls open.
“Caleb. Do that again,” you urge.
“Pips—”
“Gege, please. Do that again.”
He does it again, harder this time. His hips roll forward, grinding Sylus into you, and the pressure hits you exactly right. You gasp and grab Sylus’s shoulders. Sylus makes a low, strangled sound you’ve never heard from him before, Caleb’s hips driving him forward and yours rocking up to meet him.
“More,” you gasp.
Caleb grinds harder, his exhales ragged against Sylus’s neck. The bed is moving. You’re moving. Caleb’s hands are now white-knuckled on Sylus’s hips and Sylus’s are braced on either side of your head and you’re gripping the sheets with both fists as the room dissolves to nothing but friction and heat and breath.
“Caleb—” Sylus manages, his voice is rough in a way that makes your stomach clench, “Caleb, you need to—fuck—you need to—slow down.”
Caleb doesn’t slow down. His next stroke grinds Sylus into you so hard you nearly scream, grabbing onto Sylus’s shoulders, and your boyfriend shudders—actually shudders—and Caleb’s hips snap forward again, relentless.
Sylus throws his weight backward, driving Caleb off him enough to break away. He holds a hand between you and Caleb like a referee calling a penalty—chest heaving, skin flushed, entire body vibrating with the effort of stopping.
“Christ,” he grits out. “The pair of you.”
You stare up at him, breathless. Caleb has one knee up at the end of the bed, hands still shaped around hips that aren’t there anymore.
“We need to slow down,” Sylus says, pushing his hair back with one hand, “or one of us was going to finish in our underwear like a teenager, and I am not going to let that be me.”
“Could’ve been me,” Caleb says, roughly.
“It was going to be all three of us. And we haven’t even started yet.” Sylus looks between you, eyes dark, still catching his breath. “Underwear off. All of us.”
“Thought we weren’t animals,” Caleb mutters.
“We evolved.” Sylus counters, already halfway out of his own boxers. “Take them off, captain.”
You lift your hips and shimmy out of your panties, tossing them off the side of the bed without ceremony. Caleb relents, kicking his underwear off in the general direction of his jeans.
It’s seeing them side by side that knocks the air clean out of you.
Sylus stands tall, lean and carved, all controlled lines and casual strength. A trail of silver hair guides your eyes to where his cock hangs heavy between his thighs, the tip flushed and leaking. Caleb stands broader, rougher around the edges, the bruise on his ribs going green, tape still half-wound around his knuckles. Dark hair runs in a line below his navel, and when you see your brother’s cock for the first time—thick and eager in his hand—you draw your knees together.
Sylus’s hand catches them before they close.
“Uh-uh,” he says simply. With one palm on each knee, he eases them back apart. “None of that, sweetie.”
He guides you back against the headboard, adjusts the pillow under your lower back, running a hand down your calf once he’s finished like he’s admiring his handiwork.
“Comfortable?” he asks, sitting back on his heels.
You nod. “Yes.”
The mattress dips as Caleb moves to kneel behind Sylus. He reaches for your boyfriend’s hip, already angling to resume the position—his chest against Sylus’s back, Sylus between your legs, the structure of this arrangement he knows and trusts.
“No,” Sylus stops Caleb with a hand around his forearm, pulling him to kneel beside you instead. “I want you to see something.”
Sylus settles between your legs, lowering himself on his elbows. His mouth grazes the inside of your thigh, red eyes pinning Caleb.
“You can look, captain.”
Caleb swallows. “I am looking.”
“Then look properly.” Sylus’s breath hits your aching core with each word, and you squirm. “It’s okay. Look at her.”
Sylus holds Caleb’s eyes as his mouth moves higher. He kisses your hip, the crease of your thigh, the soft skin below your navel. Then his tongue teases your clit, and your hips jerk up off the bed. Caleb’s hand, resting on his own thigh, curls into a fist.
“See how pretty she is?” Sylus murmurs against you.
“Sylus—”
“Look.”
Sylus parts you with one long, flat stroke of his tongue, closing his lips around your clit with a teasing suck before pulling away—giving your brother an unobstructed view, you realize hazily. He spreads you open with both thumbs, displaying your swollen, slick pussy with an almost reverent care. You’re so wet that you’ve made a mess of your inner thighs, so wet it should shame you, but the way Caleb is looking at you right now leaves no room for any feeling other than the dizzying certainty that your brother wants you as badly as you want him.
“You did this, Caleb. Your sister’s pretty little cunt is ruining my sheets. All because of you,” Sylus muses. He drags a thumb up through your slick heat, eyes locked on Caleb’s expression as he circles the wetness around your clit. “She’s been like this since you grabbed me by the shirt. Since you made me bleed on the ice, I’d imagine.”
Sylus lowers his mouth to you once more, tongue patient and expert, licking into you the way he knows you like. The sensation makes your toes curl, but you’re faintly aware that the act isn’t for your pleasure, but for the benefit of the man kneeling beside you with bated breath.
Caleb watches intently—the way Sylus’s jaw works, the speed and pressure that makes you gasp, the way your hips buck when he hums against you every few strokes—studying like an exam he’s desperate to pass.
“Caleb,” Sylus says, lifting his mouth just enough to speak. “Spit.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t put your mouth on her,” Sylus explains. “But you can give her something from it. Can’t you?”
Caleb exhales hard through his nose, but doesn’t deny it.
He leans over you, and his face is close, close enough that his breath heats your stomach, close enough that you see his nostrils flare, briefly, involuntarily, his lips parting at whatever he finds there. He lets saliva pool under his tongue and glances at you sideways, a silent plea for approval.
You nod, quickly, anticipation buzzing under your skin. “I want to feel you there, gege.”
He spits.
When it lands directly on your swollen clit, you cry out. The streak of saliva runs down your slit slowly, torturously, so erotic it makes you clench around nothing.
“Good,” Sylus murmurs, and drops his head back down. He works it in with his tongue, and the added slick makes you moan. “Feel that, sweetie? That’s all your brother. You’re taking him so well.”
Your hand finds the nearest solid thing—Caleb’s thigh—and grips tight.
Caleb lets out a strained sound at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away. You can feel the small shifts in his weight as he leans closer, pulled in, unable to help himself. He watches Sylus’s mouth on you with an expression that’s long passed hunger and arrived somewhere more primal.
“Sylus,” Caleb says, more groan than word.
Sylus hums against you but doesn’t move.
“Sylus. Let me—”
Sylus lifts his head, mouth glistening. He looks at Caleb with his chin resting against the inside of your thigh and a lazy, knowing expression that makes your stomach flip.
“Let you what, captain?”
Caleb’s throat moves. “Taste.”
“Taste what.”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“I’m going to make you say it.”
“Her. I want to taste her. Sylus, let me—”
“How badly.”
His jaw flexes once. Twice. “Badly.”
Sylus presses a kiss to your thigh before sitting up, giving his cock a few lazy strokes. “Hm.”
He positions the head of his cock between your legs—not to enter, just outside—sliding just the tip up and down the wet of you. You gasp, cunt throbbing, aching to be filled by him—by Sylus, by Caleb, by both.
Caleb is watching with his mouth open.
“How badly,” Sylus repeats, eyes on your brother as he rolls his hips against you this time, dragging the full length of him through your folds.
“Sylus—” Caleb urges.
“Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”
“Please.” It falls out of Caleb’s mouth unauthorized. “Please, Sylus, let me—”
Sylus grinds against you again, slower. He makes sure every inch of him is covered, glistening with you, and Caleb is watching with every muscle tense and his hands gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise.
“More?” Sylus asks Caleb, almost bored, like he’s asking about the weather.
“Sylus, for fuck’s sake—”
“That didn’t sound like more.”
“More. Yes. More, just—Sylus, come on—”
Sylus rolls his hips into you one last time, a long, slow grind that pulls a moan out of you and leaves him drenched. He rises onto his knees, cock gleaming with you, and looks at Caleb.
“Come here, captain.”
Caleb moves before the sentence is finished.
His mouth is on Sylus faster than you can process it—tasting you with one long, flat stroke of his tongue from base to tip; a wrecked, thankful sound torn from somewhere deep inside his chest.
“That’s it.” Sylus’s hand finds the back of Caleb’s head and holds there. “Taste your baby sister, Caleb. That’s what she tastes like when she wants you. And she’s been wanting you all night. Can you taste that? Can you taste how badly her body needs yours?”
Caleb’s hands grip Sylus’s thighs as his mouth works—tasting, chasing it, trying to get every trace of you off Sylus’s skin. You watch your boyfriend lose himself for a moment: his hips jerk forward once, and he looks down at Caleb with an expression you’ve only ever seen him give you.
“God, look at you,” Sylus says, low. “This is what you’ve been missing. Years, Caleb. Years of this.”
Caleb lifts his head. His mouth is wet, eyes nearly black. He looks at Sylus first—a look that is somehow both grateful and furious—and then he looks at you.
“I know,” he says, bitter but not at you.
“Was it worth it? Being noble?”
Caleb shakes off Sylus’s hold, running his hand over the back of his head like he could erase the man’s touch. “Shut up, pretty boy.”
Sylus raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not saying anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking—” Sylus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and settles beside you against the headboard. His hand finds your knee, pulling it closer to your chest. “—your sister has been lying here all alone, begging for you to fuck her, while you’ve been busy showing a lot of enthusiasm for a cock you claim to hate.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Qin.” His words are calm. His ears, unfortunately, are bright red. “That was for her, not you.”
“Was it. Then prove it.” Sylus gives your thigh a squeeze. “Do something for her she can actually feel. Between her legs, captain.”
“No. That’s—no. That’s not what we agreed to.” Caleb’s whole body goes rigid. “You said nobody touches anybody they’re not supposed to. That was the rule.”
“We didn’t agree to anything,” Sylus counters. “We’ve been making it up as we go. And so far, everything we’ve made up has worked, hasn’t it.”
“This—this is different.”
“Is it? You tasted your sister on my cock and the world kept turning.” Sylus raises a brow. “What makes you think this will be any different?”
“It’s completely different and you know it.”
“How.”
“Because she’s—” Caleb gestures at you without looking at you. “She’s right there, Sylus, and I—”
“Look at her, Caleb.”
Caleb looks at you, and you don’t soften it. You don’t close your legs or reach for the sheet or give him something to hide behind. You let him see the aftermath of an hour of being touched through another man, what a lifetime of being so close to your brother but never close enough has done to you.
“Caleb,” you say. “Please. Just come here.”
His hands open and close at his sides. “Pips, you don’t know what’s going to happen if I—”
“I know exactly what’s going to happen.”
“You don’t.”
“You’re going to touch me and it’s going to feel like it should have felt a long time ago. And I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be fine. And I’m asking you, gege. I’m asking. Please.”
He’s quiet. He looks at Sylus—not for permission, not exactly. Giving your boyfriend one last chance to change his mind, to tell him this is wrong, to kick him to the curb and slam the door behind him and pretend none of this ever happened.
“She’s asking, Caleb,” Sylus says gently. “And I’m tired of being the only one who listens to her.”
Caleb closes his eyes with a heavy exhale. Opens them.
He moves between your legs.
“Closer, sweetheart,” Sylus directs from beside you. “She’s not going to bite. Yet.”
Caleb nods and inches closer on his knees, until the front of his thighs are flush against yours. He takes himself in hand and you open for him, drawing both knees tighter into your chest.
“I don’t—” Caleb starts. “What if I—”
“Just the outside,” Sylus says. “You don’t have to go in. Just feel her against you. That’s all.”
That’s all.
He presses the length of his cock flat against you the way he watched Sylus do, sliding slowly through your slick heat without entering, and the weight of your brother against your cunt makes you forget how to breathe.
“There,” Sylus says from beside you. You watch him wrap his hand around his own cock, stroking it in time with Caleb’s slow rolls, the visual sending a new wave of heat down your spine. “Just like that. Easy, captain.”
Caleb rocks his hips in long drags, hot and devastating as he slides through the wet of everything the night has built. His hand is still on himself, still controlling the angle, still holding onto the last bit of restraint he has left.
“Shit,” he manages. “Sylus, she’s so—feels so—”
“I know.”
“She’s—I can’t—”
“You can,” Sylus assures, gentle and genuine. “You’re fine. She’s fine. It’s just the outside.”
Your hips rock up to meet his on the next stroke, shifting the angle, and the head of his cock catches at your entrance.
All three of you gasp at the same time.
“That’s okay. Just a little is okay,” Sylus says, quieter now. He leans closer to rest a hand on Caleb’s lower back. “You can give your sister just the tip. That’s allowed. That’s nothing.”
“That’s not nothing—”
“It’s close to nothing. Let it happen.”
Caleb rocks forward and the head of him slides in—just barely inside, the tight heat of you closing around the first inch, your legs falling wider open with a small gasp. He collapses forward, free hand fisting into the sheets beside your shoulder. Your mouths open, only inches apart now. His hand tightens around himself like a brake.
“There,” Sylus murmurs. “See? That’s fine. Nothing to be afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid,” Caleb grits out.
“Then go a little further. You can let go of yourself. You don’t have to hold on anymore.” His thumb soothes small arcs on Caleb’s back. “Why don’t you give her a little more. Just an inch. She can take it. Can’t you, sweetie?”
Caleb’s hand releases. He plants it beside your other shoulder.
“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, more, please—”
Caleb sinks deeper. An inch. Another. His jaw is clenched so hard you can see the tendon at his neck as his eyes lock on yours, searching for the thing that will tell him to stop.
You don’t give it to him.
“More,” you beg. “I can take it. I promise I can take it.”
“Pips—”
“Gege, please. I need you closer. I need more.”
“All the way,” Sylus says, and his hand presses flat against Caleb’s lower back. “All the way, sweetheart. She’s asking so nicely. Give your baby sister the cock she’s been begging for.”
Caleb pushes all the way in.
His forehead drops to yours, eyes squeezing shut. His forearms are shaking where they cage your head, and you’re full of him, completely, finally, and you have never in your life felt more whole.
Your arms come up around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist, and you hold him there, as deep as he can go. Sylus strokes the back of Caleb's head once before returning to your side.
“There you go,” Sylus murmurs. “There. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
Caleb’s breath shudders against your mouth.
“Give me a second,” he says. “Meimei, give me one second.”
You give him a second. You give him several. You lie there with him buried inside you and his sweat-slicked forehead against yours and your breath mixing in the inch between your mouths and you wait.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
When he moves, it’s in rolls, not thrusts. He moves like he’s terrified of the end of this, like if he goes slow enough it will never stop, and you let him, because you’ve waited years and you can wait a few more minutes.
Sylus settles back against the headboard, stroking himself slowly, watching the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his free hand resting on his own thigh. Occasionally it drifts—brushing a strand of your hair out of your face, giving a reassuring squeeze to Caleb’s forearm. Though you can barely register anything aside from the way Caleb is looking at you the way you always dreamed he would, like he’s burning alive and doesn’t want to be saved.
“Faster,” you plead, gripping his forearms for leverage.
Caleb doesn’t check with Sylus anymore. He goes faster.
You dig your heels into his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper. He groans against your throat, the loudest sound the room has heard all night, and his hips snap forward and the bedframe hits the wall with each thrust and neither of you cares. You’re nothing but two people who have been starving trying to eat at the same time, and it’s too fast and too much and not enough and—
“Caleb,” Sylus says.
His rhythm stutters. “What could you possibly—”
“Kiss her.”
Caleb cuts Sylus a sidelong glare, but he doesn’t reply.
“You heard me, captain.”
Your brother looks down at you, hips still rolling in a steady rhythm. He lowers his mouth to your forehead and presses his lips there. It’s the kind of kiss you’ve received a thousand times—at the airport, at graduation, in the parking lot after games. Safe. Known.
Sylus clicks his tongue, dissatisfied. “Lower, Caleb.”
Caleb inhales sharply, eyes scanning your face, contemplating. His hips have all but stilled, as if he needs all of his focus to fulfill the request. He picks a lower spot—the apple of your cheek—and kisses you there softly.
“Gege,” you whisper against the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah.”
“Please.”
“I know, meimei.”
You tilt your chin up, lower lip brushing his. “Please. Just one.”
Caleb kisses you, and the world falls away.
It’s slow, unbearably slow, just the full, warm weight of his mouth against yours for the very first time. His hand comes up to cradle your face, the gesture so tender you feel the start of tears pooling behind your lashes.
Caleb pulls away a fraction and comes back. His lips part, barely, and yours open to meet them. His tongue finds yours tentatively, nothing like the way he kissed Sylus, and you savor the way it glides against yours like it was always meant to. He tastes like whiskey and copper and Sylus’s skin and underneath all of it like Caleb—not number five, not the hockey captain, but your older brother, the one who taught you to skate when you were nine and held both your hands the whole time and never once let go.
His hips start moving again, each stroke matched to the kiss, each deep roll timed to the slide of his tongue against yours. Your hand moves from his jaw into his hair, and you kiss him back and feel a lifetime of careful distance dissolve like it was never there. Like all those years you thought were keeping something out were really keeping something in, something alive and wound tight and desperate for the chance to break free.
Caleb deepens the kiss, hungrier now, tongue licking deeper against yours as his hips snap forward so hard it’s almost painful.
“There he is,” Sylus says, barely above a breath, hand quickening on himself. “Fuck, look at you two. Let go. Together. Let everything go.”
“Gege,” you manage. “I’m close.”
“I know.” Against your lips. “Me too, meimei. Me too.”
“Don’t stop.”
“I’m not—I won’t—I—”
You both let go.
You break around him. His hips stutter. The sound he makes into your mouth is the twin of the one you make into his, and there’s nothing poetic or graceful about it. He holds your face like he’s trying to live inside the kiss, like if he stays long enough it’ll become something he can keep. You feel his release pulse hot inside you, your own orgasm pulling him in even deeper, and you hold each other through every wave, never breaking the kiss. Not even when he’s shaking, and you’re shaking, and neither of you can breathe.
Beside you, Sylus comes with his forehead tipped back against the headboard and his hand in your hair, fingers tangled loosely in the damp strands at the back of your neck while the two people he brought together fall apart. His exhale is long and heavy and sounds, if you’re listening for it, like satisfaction.
The kiss finally, reluctantly breaks.
Caleb pulls back an inch, resting his forehead against yours, the two of you trading shaky breaths while you wait for the room to stop spinning.
“I just kissed you,” he whispers.
You laugh, and it comes out wet. “You did a lot more than that.”
“Yeah, but—“ He wipes away a tear from your cheekbone you didn’t realize had fallen, his eyes glassy and dark and full of so many emotions your chest aches. “I kissed you, meimei.”
“Yeah, gege.” You grin. “You did.”
He smiles. It’s a smile you’ve know your whole life but never from this close, and from here it simply looks like pure, wild joy. And you think, without deciding to, that you’d burn the entire world to the ground just to see him smile like that twice.
Caleb stays inside you for a long time. His face is in your neck, your fingers in his hair, the two of you so thoroughly entangled your heartbeats are nearly synchronized.
Sylus is the first one to move.
He gets up quietly. You hear the tap run in the bathroom, the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He comes back with a glass of water and a warm cloth, sits on the edge of the bed, and rests a hand on Caleb’s shoulder.
“Out,” he says, gently. “Easy. I’ve got her.”
Caleb pulls out—reluctantly, carefully—and rolls onto his side. He reaches for you immediately, pulling you against his chest, arm heavy over your waist, nose in your hair, like he’s afraid someone’s going to call time.
Sylus cleans you up. Sets the water on the nightstand within reach. Pulls the sheet up over both of you, kisses the top of your head, and goes to the other side of the bed.
He lies down beside Caleb. Not touching, giving the two of you your own space to come down together. Caleb’s palm presses into your bare abdomen, soothing circles over your stomach. And after a minute or two, he shifts backward. Just enough that his shoulders meet Sylus’s chest.
Sylus lifts his arm and drapes it over both of you, over Caleb’s ribs, your waist, his palm settling on your stomach on top of Caleb’s hand.
Caleb exhales. His whole body goes slack against Sylus’s chest.
“Don’t you dare say a word, pretty boy,” Caleb murmurs.
“I’m not saying anything.”
“And don’t bring this up ever again.”
“Bring what up.”
“This. Any of this. Not on the ice, not in the locker room, not ever.”
“Caleb, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m asleep. You’re asleep. She's asleep. Nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Nothing at all, sweetheart,” Sylus confirms. “Though if it had, I’d be putting myself down for the assist.”
“I will smother you with this pillow.”
“That would require you to let go of her first, captain.”
Caleb’s arm tightens around your waist. Sylus’s arm tightens over his. You lace your fingers through both of their hands where they overlap on your stomach and close your eyes.
Somewhere in the living room, the basketball game has ended, the TV humming without an audience. Nobody gets up to turn it off.
Nobody gets up at all.
if u made it this far....thank u for reading, fellow freak ;)
♡ authors note: satoru gojo is hereby banned from kamo council meetings. also if this is not brat tamer/brat dynamic you can shoot me. i’ve never written this trope before! 😅😅
The meeting hasn’t even started yet and Satoru already has his feet on the table. “Satoru.”
He glances over. “What?”
You look at his shoes. He follows your gaze, then looks back at you.
“Take them off.”
“Ask nicely.”
You stare at him and his smile gets even bigger. “Please take your disgusting shoes off the table.”
“See? You can be polite.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Unfortunately, he’s right.
The higher-ups are ten minutes late. Your uncle warned you they might pull this shit. Apparently making everyone sit around waiting is supposed to remind you how important they are. The Kamo elders haven’t shown up either, so they’re probably doing the exact same thing from another hallway.
Fucking ridiculous
You shift in your chair and one of the pins in your hair yanks at your scalp. “Ow.”
Satoru’s feet come off the table. “What?”
“Nothing.”
You adjust the pin. It still fucking hurts. Your attendants spent almost two hours getting you ready for this. The dark crimson robes, the black and gold outer layer, jewelry you wouldn’t have picked, enough pins in your hair to apparently kill you. Someone else even picked your perfume. You’d gotten to choose basically nothing. You reach up to mess with the pin again and catch Satoru looking at you. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“You look pretty.”
You blink at him then look back at the clock.
Seventeen minutes
“They’re doing this on purpose.”
“Probably.”
“It’s annoying.”
“We could leave.”
You laugh. “And explain that to my uncle?”
“I’ll explain it.”
“You are the last person I would send to explain anything to my uncle. He already told you to behave.”
“Yeah, but I don’t care what he tells me to do.”
“Fine. I’m telling you to behave.”
Satoru turns his head and you immediately don’t like the look on his face. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Satoru.”
“I like when you get bossy.”
“I’m not bossy.”
“You just gave me an order.”
“Because apparently someone has to supervise you.”
He moves closer until his shoulder presses against yours. “So supervise me.”
You stare at him and his smile widens again. “Oh, fuck off.”
He laughs when you shove his shoulder away.
“Sit there, be quiet, and try not to insult anyone important.”
“That sounds awful.”
“And don’t touch anything that belongs to the Kamo clan.”
His eyes drop down to your chest.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His gaze takes its sweet time coming back up to your face.
“I meant the furniture, you pervert.”
“I know what you meant.”
You smack his arm and he catches your wrist before you can pull away. “Let go.”
“Bossy.”
“Satoru.”
He holds on for another second. Then his fingers loosen, dragging slowly over yours as he lets you go.
Asshole
You straighten your sleeve. When you look over again, he’s still staring.
“What now?”
“You really do look beautiful.”
You wait for whatever stupid thing he’s going to add, but he doesn’t say anything else. Your family has been saying the same thing all afternoon. Beautiful. Elegant. Appropriate. Your aunt said it after changing your earrings. One of your attendants said it while fixing your robes. Your uncle looked you over once and said, Good. Satoru is just looking at you.
You pick at the edge of your sleeve. “…Thank you.”
He grins.
You point at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re about to.”
“I was just appreciating my thank you.”
“You get one.”
“Can I have another?”
“No.”
“Princess.”
“Satoru.”
He laughs and you turn away before he sees your mouth twitch. You reach up to fix the same hairpin.
“Those hurt.”
“They’re fine.”
“You’ve touched that one six times.”
You glance at him. “You’ve been counting?”
“I notice things.”
“Apparently.”
You adjust it again. “They’re tolerable.”
Satoru makes a face.
“What?”
“You always say that when you hate something.”
“I don’t hate them.”
“You said the winter assembly was tolerable.”
“It was.”
“You disappeared for forty-five minutes.”
“I needed a break.”
“They had six people looking for you.”
“That seems excessive.”
“Your uncle thought you left.”
“I didn’t.”
“You were hiding in a storage room.”
“It was quiet.”
Satoru starts laughing.
“You locked the door.”
“Because people kept trying to come in.”
“Yeah. They were looking for you.”
“Well, you found me.”
“Because I’m good at finding you.”
You look at him. He’s still smiling, but that sounds weird enough that you decide not to touch it.
He sighs. “What if your uncle brings another folder?”
You groan. “Marriage isn’t on the agenda.”
“It wasn’t last time either.”
“He brings folders everywhere.”
“That one had pictures.”
You turn toward him. “You looked at it?”
“Obviously.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Wanted to see who they thought was good enough for you.”
“And?”
“None of them.”
You laugh. “You looked at five pictures.”
“Six.”
“Oh, excuse me. Six pictures.”
“None of them.”
“You don’t even know most of those men.”
“Don’t need to.”
“And what exactly are you comparing them to?”
He looks at you.
Oh, for fuck’s sake
“Don’t say yourself.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You absolutely were.”
“You asked.”
“You weren’t even on the list.”
“Exactly. Terrible list.”
You roll your eyes, but your mouth twitches anyway.
His knee bumps yours under the table. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Want to marry one of them.”
You look toward the doors. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t decided if I want to marry anyone.”
“Good.”
You look back at him. “Why is that good?”
“Because your uncle has terrible taste.”
“Coward.”
His eyebrows go up. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I was being nice.”
“No, you weren’t. You were avoiding the question.”
“What question?”
“Why you care.”
His face goes blank for one second, then he smiles. You smile back.
“Careful.”
“Or what?”
He doesn’t answer.
“See? Still avoiding the question.”
“You’re getting mouthy.”
“Maybe answer me and I won’t have to.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, well, if you said it—”
His hand closes around your knee under the table. The rest of the sentence dies in your mouth.
Satoru grins. “There. Much better.”
You look down at his hand, then back at him. “Take it off.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Take it off before I break a finger.”
“Also not nice.”
You shove his hand away yourself. He laughs and lets you.
“See?” You straighten your robes. “Completely manageable.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I think somebody has to keep you under control.”
He looks at you. His sunglasses have slipped down just enough that you can see his eyes over them. “Think that’s you, princess?”
Oh
You recover quickly. “Obviously.”
Satoru laughs under his breath and leans back. You pick up your papers again. Regional supervision. Restricted archives. Personnel allocation. You make it halfway down the page before you notice he hasn’t said anything in a while.
That’s suspicious.
You glance over at him and he’s staring at the table.
“No.”
Satoru looks at you. “What?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“I know you.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It wasn’t.”
His eyes go back to the table and you follow them. More specifically, under it.
Oh, for fuck’s sake
“Satoru.”
“What?”
“No.”
“You already said that.”
“Because apparently it needs repeating.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
“Thinking about what?”
You point under the table and Satoru looks down.
“Huh.”
“Don’t ‘huh’ the table.”
“There’s a lot of room under there.”
“You’re six-foot-three.”
“I could fit.”
“That wasn’t a challenge.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
His eyes drop from your face to the layers of silk over your lap. You catch that one immediately.
“Absolutely not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
“Maybe I was thinking about the meeting.”
“You haven’t thought about this meeting once since we got here.”
“That’s not true.”
“Name one thing on the agenda.”
He pauses. “You.”
“I am not on the agenda.”
“Should be.”
“Satoru.”
Footsteps sound somewhere down the hall.
You point at him. “Chair. Behave.”
He smiles. “You told me to behave.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
You narrow your eyes at him then glance toward the doors when the footsteps get closer. When you look back, Satoru’s chair is empty. You stare at it. “Satoru?”
There’s no answer.
Oh, no
You lift the tablecloth up and see white hair.
“Seriously?”
“Shh.”
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Satoru.”
He looks entirely too comfortable under there.
“You can’t spend a council meeting under the table.”
“Seems like I can.”
“You’re twenty-eight years old.”
“Allegedly.”
“And six-foot-three.”
“Still fit.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Voices carry from right outside the room now.
“Come out.”
“Too late.”
“It is not too—”
His hand closes around your ankle. You look down at it then at him. His thumb runs once over your skin.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re doing.”
“I’m sitting here.”
“Under a table.”
“Yeah.” His hand moves up your calf.
“Satoru.”
“Princess.”
“They’re right outside.”
“I know.”
“Then get back in your chair.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“They’ll see me.”
You stare at him. “Whose fault is that?”
He smiles. You try to kick him but his other hand catches your ankle.
“Absolutely not.”
“Let go.”
Instead, he presses his mouth to the inside of your calf. Your breath catches and his eyes flick up to yours.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
He kisses the same spot again.
“Satoru.”
“Mm?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“After the meeting?”
“During it if you keep this up.”
“Promise?”
The door handle moves.
Shit
You drop the tablecloth and Satoru disappears underneath. You barely get your robes back into place before the doors open.
Your uncle walks in with two of the senior Kamo men. “Good afternoon.”
Under the table, Satoru squeezes your knee.
Your uncle looks at the empty chair next to you. “Where is Satoru Gojo?”
“He stepped out.”
“Now?”
“Apparently.”
Your uncle looks toward the door like enough disapproval might force Satoru to materialize through it.
“You were instructed to stay with him.”
Satoru’s hand finds your ankle again.
“I’m sitting inside one of the most heavily warded buildings in Tokyo. I think I’ll survive.”
“That is not the point.”
“I know.”
His hand starts moving higher and you glance down. The tablecloth hasn’t moved an inch.
Bastard
“Then where did he go?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Have you tried asking Satoru where he’s going?”
One of the elders coughs into his hand. Your uncle looks even less amused. Luckily, the doors open again before he can start.
The higher-ups file in. Chairs scrape against the floor. Papers come out. Someone starts pouring tea. Two of the older men spend the first thirty seconds arguing about whether the room is too cold.
Apparently this is what everyone was seventeen minutes late for. You sit through the formal greetings with Satoru’s hand around your ankle.
For the first few minutes, that’s all he does. His thumb moves absently over your skin while the discussion starts with patrol boundaries. By the time your uncle starts arguing about jurisdiction, his hand has moved to your calf.
His mouth brushes your shin once. You nudge him with your shoe. He does it again and you kick him. His hand catches your ankle.
You keep reading. Or at least try to. By the time his hand reaches your knee, you’ve been staring at the same line for long enough that you have to start it over.
His fingers slip under the edge of your robes. You look down and see nothing. Not even a twitch of the tablecloth.
“Is something unclear?”
You look up. The higher-up across from you is waiting for you to answer. You glance at the papers in front of you.
“No. Sorry.”
Your uncle looks at you.
“No. Continue.”
The man pauses, then keeps droning on. Satoru kisses the inside of your knee. You drive your shoe into his thigh and his hand stops.
Good
You find your place on the page again.
The Kamo elder next to your uncle starts talking about access to restricted archives. You manage to follow most of it before Satoru’s hand closes around your calf again. Tighter this time.
Your eyes narrow, and you kick him again. His grip tightens.
You look down, but there’s nothing. No movement of the tablecloth, no sound. Just his hand around your leg, holding it firmly enough that trying to kick him again would cause enough movement for someone to notice.
Fine. This meeting will end eventually. Satoru’s thumb strokes once over your ankle.
Smug bastard
A question is asked about the proposed joint training schedule. You answer it, even though you have to ask the elder to repeat the last part because Satoru’s mouth is moving higher up your thigh.
Your uncle notices. “You were briefed on this yesterday.”
“I know.”
“Then pay attention.”
Your face gets warm and flushed, and not just because of Satoru. “I am paying attention.”
The answer comes sharper than you meant for it to, and your uncle’s expression tightens.
Under the table, Satoru’s shoulders move. He’s laughing. You reach down far enough to catch a fistful of his hair. His laughter stops when you tug on it once.
Asshole
His hand slides behind your knee and pulls your leg open slightly under your robes. Your fingers tighten in his hair.
The elder keeps talking, but you catch maybe every third sentence. Something about funding, then temporary personnel transfers.
Satoru’s mouth moves higher up the inside of your thigh. When his fingers find the edge of your underwear, you go completely still.
His fingertips drag slowly over the fabric, lingering there long enough to feel the change in your breathing before they slip under the silk and pull them aside.
The first touch makes your toes curl inside your shoes.
You keep your eyes on the papers in front of you and read the same sentence four times in a row while Satoru does it again, slowly. His fingers move through the wetness already there and you press your lips together.
One of the higher-ups is talking about a barrier station outside Kyoto. Your uncle answers, but you have absolutely no idea what either of them says.
Then you feel his warm breath against you, followed by his tongue slowly licking a stripe up your pussy.
Your hand tightens around the paper hard enough to wrinkle the edge. You hear your name. Your head comes up way too fast. “What?”
The elder across from you pauses.
Your uncle’s face changes, not dramatically, but you know that look. You’ve been getting it since you were a kid.
The elder repeats himself. “The Tokyo supervisors. How many would you recommend assigning?”
You know this. You absolutely know this. The number is gone from your head.
Satoru’s tongue moves over you again, and you grip the table under the edge of your sleeve.
“Two.”
Your uncle glances at you.
Three. It was three. You know it the second the word leaves your mouth.
“One senior and two assistants,” you correct quickly.
The higher-up gives you a long look before marking something on the page.
Under the table, Satoru’s mouth closes over your clit. Your knee jerks, but you catch it before the chair moves.
Fuck him
You push your fingers into his hair again. He makes a quiet sound against you, and your fingers tighten in his hair. His hand spreads over your thigh, keeping your legs apart when they instinctively try to close.
You stare at the papers in front of you, but the words have stopped meaning anything.
Satoru’s tongue circles slowly at first, almost lazily. He has all the patience in the world. You called him manageable less than half an hour ago. That was apparently a mistake.
The elder next to your uncle asks another question. You hear your name this time, but not whatever else was said.
“Sorry?”
Your uncle turns his head, and you can feel his eyes on you while the elder repeats the question.
You answer too quickly. The elder frowns, so you force yourself to elaborate, but the second sentence loses its shape halfway through when Satoru sucks gently.
Your breath catches and you reach for your tea to cover it, but your hand is not very steady and the cup clicks against the saucer.
Your uncle looks at you again. “Are you unwell?”
“No.” You answer way too fast, so you add. “The incense is giving me a headache.”
Under the table, Satoru’s shoulders shake again. You are going to kill him.
The meeting continues, although you stop pretending you are following all of it. You catch names, numbers, occasional phrases, but Satoru’s mouth becomes more insistent the longer you try to ignore him.
You pause too long before one answer. Your fingers curl around your cup during another. Once, you have to wait a second before speaking because you don’t trust your voice.
You hate him. You also move closer to the edge of your chair. His hand tightens around your thigh.
Asshole
You grip his hair harder, and his tongue moves faster. The pleasure has been building slowly enough that you almost convince yourself you can keep it there. You can’t.
Your thighs tense around him, and his hand slides higher, holding you exactly where he wants you while his mouth gets more intense.
You look toward the man currently talking and realize you have no idea who he’s arguing with anymore. The voices around the table blur together until all you can really hear is the quiet rustle of paper and the blood pounding in your ears.
You try to pull back but Satoru follows. His grip closes around your thigh and keeps you there unless you want to move the entire chair along with you.
Absolutely fucking not
He is not making you lose control in front of your uncle. Satoru’s tongue flicks faster. Your fingers crush the edge of the table.
Fuck
Your orgasm hits before you can stop it. Your whole body tightens at once, your thighs shaking around Satoru’s shoulders while pleasure tears through you in sharp, silent waves.
Your vision blurs, and for one horrifying second you think you might make a sound. You bite down hard enough against the inside of your cheek that you taste blood.
Satoru only slows down when you start to come down, his mouth staying against you until the trembling in your thighs finally eases.
You breathe carefully through your nose and wait for the room to come back into focus.
Across the table, somebody turns a page. Your uncle says something you don’t catch. Nobody is looking at you.
Thank fuck
Satoru presses one last kiss against the inside of your thigh. You grab his hair hard enough to make his head tilt under the tablecloth. You can’t see his face, but you don’t need to.
His hand closes lazily around your ankle. You let go of his hair and force yourself to look at the paper in front of you, only to realize you have absolutely no idea what section of the meeting you’ve reached.
For the next several minutes, Satoru leaves you alone. Mostly. His thumb moves over your ankle while you piece together enough of the conversation to join in again without sounding completely lost.
Your uncle handles most of the talking. When someone asks you something directly, you keep your answers short.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“That would depend on staffing.”
“I’d need to review the proposal.”
Anything requiring more than that is currently beyond you. Your pulse has almost returned to normal when your uncle opens another folder. You recognize it immediately. Satoru’s thumb stops moving.
“The matter of succession has not been adequately addressed,” your uncle says.
You stare at the folder. “I thought we were discussing regional supervision.”
“We are discussing the future stability of the clan.”
One of the higher-ups folds his hands over his stomach. “The two are not entirely separate.”
Of course they aren’t.
“My marriage has nothing to do with patrol assignments.”
Your uncle’s eyes settle on you. “It has a great deal to do with the future of the Kamo clan.”
Satoru goes completely still under the table.
“No one asked me whether there is going to be a marriage.”
“That is not a decision made according to preference alone.”
Your jaw tightens.
Satoru’s hand closes around your thigh, but this time his thumb doesn’t stroke your skin and his fingers don’t wander any higher. He just holds you there while your uncle keeps going.
Duty. Continuity. Inherited technique. You’ve heard all of it before.
“I know what you expect,” you say.
“Then there should be no confusion.”
“There isn’t.” You look directly at him. “I’m not marrying somebody because you put his picture in a folder.”
Your uncle’s mouth tightens, and one of the higher-ups shifts in his chair. “This is hardly the appropriate tone for—”
“I don’t really care about my tone right now.”
That earns you several looks.
Good
Your uncle’s voice lowers. “Enough.”
Satoru kisses the inside of your thigh. Your fingers twitch against the table.
Another kiss follows, slower and a little higher than the first, and for once there’s nothing teasing about it. He doesn’t interrupt when your uncle starts again. He doesn’t try to make you squirm. His hand stays firmly around your thigh while he listens.
“You will attend the winter gathering.”
“No.”
“You have not heard the arrangements.”
“I know what the gathering is for.”
“A number of appropriate families will be represented.”
Satoru’s fingers move under your robes again. You inhale quietly.
Your uncle apparently takes that for frustration. “You are behaving like a child.”
That almost makes you laugh.
“I’m behaving like somebody who doesn’t want to spend an evening being inspected by men I don’t know.”
“You are the future of this clan.”
“And still a person.”
The higher-up across from you frowns. “No one is suggesting otherwise.”
“Then stop talking about my marriage like I’m not sitting here.”
The room goes quiet. Your uncle looks furious. The elder across from you looks offended. The man next to him suddenly finds the papers in front of him very interesting.
Fine. Let them be offended.
Satoru’s tongue touches you again and your stomach tightens.
You catch his wrist under the table before he can do anything else, but instead of pulling away, his hand turns under yours and his fingers slip in between your own. Then he lifts your hand under the tablecloth and kisses your knuckles. Just once. Your grip on his wrist loosens.
Asshole
He lowers your hand back into your lap, but he doesn’t let go immediately. His thumb brushes your knuckles before his fingers finally slip from yours and move back under your robes.
Your uncle is still talking. You already lost part of the sentence.
“—understand the position this puts us in.”
“I understand.”
“You clearly do not.”
Satoru’s fingers slide inside of you. Your breath catches sharply enough that your uncle stops. You cough into your hand.
One of the elders pushes the water pitcher toward you. You shake your head because there is absolutely no chance in hell you are picking up a glass right now.
Satoru curls his fingers and your nails dig into your palm. “You were saying?”
Your uncle’s eyes narrow. “I said that your refusal to cooperate places the clan in an unnecessarily difficult position.”
You catch about half of that before Satoru’s mouth closes over your clit and the rest quickly becomes somebody else’s problem.
“You will attend.”
“No.”
“You will.”
“No.”
At least that answer is easy.
Your uncle exhales through his nose. “Your familiarity with Satoru Gojo has encouraged habits that were already becoming troublesome.”
Satoru stops. Your mouth almost curves into a smile. Of course that gets his attention.
“I was troublesome before I knew Satoru.”
“You were better disciplined.”
His mouth presses against you again, harder this time. Your fingers close around the edge of your chair.
“You were raised with certain expectations.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then perhaps you should begin acting like it.”
Satoru’s tongue moves slowly while his fingers curl inside you, and you have to wait a second before answering.
“I said I’m aware. I didn’t say I agreed.”
Your uncle keeps going, but you stop wasting energy trying to catch every word. You know the argument well enough by now that he could probably leave the room and you could finish it for him.
When he asks you something directly, you answer. Sometimes with a sentence. Sometimes with just one word.
Then he asks another question while Satoru’s fingers curl inside you again, and you stare at him blankly. Your uncle waits.
Shit
“What?”
His expression tightens before he repeats himself. You catch enough this time.
“No.”
Apparently that works. Satoru’s shoulders move beneath the table. You reach down immediately and grab his hair before he can start laughing at you again.
His face turns into your palm and he kisses it. Your grip loosens again.
His mouth closes on your clit again, and this time there’s no slow rebuilding of what he started earlier. You’re already way too sensitive for that.
Your uncle says you’re allowing emotion to interfere with duty. Satoru’s fingers press deeper.
“Duty doesn’t mean letting you choose my husband.”
His mouth gets rougher.
Your uncle’s expression hardens. “You are being disrespectful.”
Satoru sucks hard enough that your vision flashes, and whatever answer you had ready disappears completely.
Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. Your uncle waits. You stare at him while Satoru curls his fingers again.
Fuck
“What?”
“I asked whether you understand me.”
“Oh.”
Your uncle looks genuinely offended. Satoru’s mouth moves against you again, and you have to gather enough of your thoughts to answer.
“Yes.” You swallow. “I understand you. I disagree.”
Your uncle starts talking again but you barely hear him. Your thighs are already shaking, and somewhere in the middle of it Satoru took your hand in his again. His fingers are threaded through yours under the table, his thumb moving slowly over your knuckles while his mouth does everything possible to make you lose whatever composure you have left.
You squeeze his hand and his fingers tighten around yours. Then his tongue moves faster. You grip his hand harder and try to sit still, which lasts until Satoru sucks gently on your clit and curls his fingers inside you at the same time.
Your hips shift toward his mouth before you can stop them. A low sound vibrates against you.
Smug bastard
Even under the fucking table, he finds a way. You tighten your fingers around his and refuse to move back. Satoru takes that for exactly what it is. His mouth becomes relentless.
You stare at your uncle and try desperately to hold onto whatever he’s saying, but his voice keeps slipping in and out under the blood pounding in your ears.
Something about responsibility. Something about the winter gathering. You don’t know.
Satoru’s tongue circles your clit again and your thighs tighten around him.
Fuck
You bite the inside of your cheek again.
His fingers curl. Your hand crushes his. And then you come again.
Your whole body locks so suddenly that you have to brace your free hand against the underside of the table. Pleasure pulses through you hard and deep, your thighs shaking around Satoru’s shoulders while you stare somewhere over your uncle’s shoulder and pray nobody notices that you stopped breathing.
Satoru doesn’t stop. His mouth stays on your clit while his fingers keep moving inside you, slower now, drawing out every pulse until your legs begin shaking badly enough that you’re terrified the movement will reach the chair.
You squeeze his hand hard enough that it should hurt. He squeezes back.
Your eyes close for half a second. When you open them again, somebody is talking. You have no idea who.
Satoru finally withdraws his fingers and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His thumb moves over your knuckles once before his hand settles around yours again.
You breathe carefully through your nose and try to rejoin the meeting you have apparently been absent from for the last several minutes.
It doesn’t go very well. Your uncle is talking now. You catch enough to know the subject changed, but not enough to know what it changed to.
A document gets passed across the table. You accept it because everyone else does. Someone asks for your opinion. “I’ll review the proposal before answering.”
Good. Safe.
Another elder asks whether you agree with the recommended personnel number.
“I’d like the written recommendation first.”
Also safe. You can do this.
You can sit here, look appropriately annoyed and give vague answers until these men finally leave.
At some point somebody mentions another meeting.
“Fine.”
Probably safe.
Satoru’s thumb strokes over your knuckles under the table. You squeeze his hand once in warning. He behaves.
Eventually, papers start disappearing into folders and chairs shift back from the table.
Thank fuck
None of the higher-ups look particularly pleased with you. One gives you a long, disapproving look on his way out, while another stops next to your uncle.
“The matter of succession should be resolved privately before it begins interfering with cooperative negotiations.”
Your uncle’s jaw tightens. You stare at the papers in front of you. Apparently your refusal to let them pick your husband has become an administrative inconvenience.
Wonderful.
The doors close behind the last of the higher-ups, leaving only your uncle and the two Kamo elders behind.
You stay exactly where you are while your uncle stacks his documents. Satoru has apparently decided to behave for the moment, one hand resting loosely around your ankle under the table.
“You will return to the estate tonight.”
You look at your uncle. “I have somewhere to stay in Tokyo.”
“That was not a request.”
“Then I suppose we have a problem.”
One of the elders looks away.
Your uncle’s expression doesn’t change. “This attitude is precisely what I was referring to.”
“Which attitude?”
“The insistence on turning every expectation into a challenge.”
Satoru’s thumb moves once over your ankle.
“I’ve always been like this.”
“No. You have always been stubborn. Lately, you have become openly defiant.”
His eyes shift toward the empty chair beside you. “Your association with Satoru Gojo has not helped.”
You bite the inside of your cheek. If only he knew.
“I don’t need Satoru’s help to disagree with you.”
“That is not what I said.”
“I know.”
Your uncle picks up the last folder. “You will reconsider the winter gathering.”
“No.”
His expression hardens.
“I said no.”
The elder next to him gives you a warning look. You ignore it.
Your uncle stares at you for several seconds before turning toward the door. “Satoru Gojo is unreliable.”
Satoru’s fingers shift around your ankle. You glance at his empty chair and then back at your uncle.
“Sometimes.”
That clearly isn’t the answer he expected.
You shrug. “Just not about the things that matter to him.”
The hand around your ankle goes still.
Your uncle’s mouth tightens. “That is a dangerously subjective standard.”
“So is yours.”
He gives you one final look and leaves. The other two elders follow him out, and the doors shut behind them.
You wait until their footsteps fade down the hallway before slumping back in your chair.
Your legs still feel like shit. Satoru’s thumb strokes your ankle. You look down at the tablecloth. Then you lift it. His hair is completely fucked.
You did most of that, admittedly, but the sight of him crouched under the Kamo council table with white hair sticking up in every direction is so ridiculous that for a second you forget how angry you’re supposed to be.
Then he smiles.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
His smile gets wider and you kick him. Satoru catches your ankle before your shoe touches him. “Brat.”
“You are dead.”
“Worth it.”
You kick at him again. Satoru catches your ankle before your shoe gets anywhere near his shoulder, laughing when you try to yank it out of his hand.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“Satoru.”
“That’s four.”
“Then maybe stop giving me reasons to kick you.”
He finally crawls out from under the table, still holding your ankle for absolutely no reason except to be annoying. You grab the arm of your chair when he lifts it with him.
“Would you—”
He lets go and you glare at him.
Satoru gets to his feet and pushes his sunglasses back into place before running a hand through his hair. It doesn’t help. If anything, he makes it worse.
“You look ridiculous.”
“You did that.”
“You deserved worse.”
“Mm. You kept saying that while pulling me closer too.”
Your face gets hot. “I was trying to keep you quiet.”
“With my face between your legs?”
You glance toward the doors. “Would you shut up?”
“No one can hear us now.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to announce it to the entire building.”
Satoru laughs and leans back against the table. “You’re embarrassed.”
“I am not embarrassed.”
“You can barely look at me.”
“I’m looking at you right now.”
“Yeah, like you want to kill me.”
“I do.”
“That’s better.”
You get out of the chair.
Satoru watches you straighten your robes, still looking entirely too pleased with himself. His hair is a fucking disaster from your hands, his glasses are slightly crooked. Then you look at his mouth.
Bad idea
Your eyes snap back to his. His grin changes.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re about to say.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Your face is irritating.”
“You seemed pretty fond of it ten minutes ago.”
You shove him but he barely moves.
“You are never doing that again.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“You’re not taking me seriously.”
“I am.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I can take you seriously and think you’re cute when you’re mad.”
You shove him again. This time he catches your wrist.
“Satoru.”
“Princess.”
“Let go.”
“No.”
You pull once. He doesn’t budge.
“I swear to god—”
“You’re awfully mouthy again for someone whose legs were shaking five minutes ago.”
Your mouth falls open and his grin gets wider.
“You—”
You swing your other hand at him. He catches that one too.
“Oh, fuck you.”
Satoru laughs. “There she is.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“I don’t have to.”
You try to wrench your hands free, which only makes him laugh harder.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“Satoru.”
“What?”
You pull again and his grip tightens.
“Are you five?”
“You’re the one trying to hit me.”
“Because you deserve it.”
“Probably.”
You twist one wrist, nearly get it loose, and immediately try the other. The laughter dies somewhere in the middle of it. Satoru is still holding both your wrists, but he isn’t grinning anymore.
Oh
You know that look. It’s the same one he gave you before the meeting when you told him somebody had to keep him under control.
Your stomach flips.
You lift your chin anyway. “What?”
Satoru looks at you for another second before pulling you toward him. You stumble the half step between you and hit his chest.
“Hey—”
“Enough.”
Your mouth closes before you can finish the sentence.
His hand releases one of your wrists and slides around the back of your neck, his fingers settling carefully under your hair. His thumb rests below your ear as he tips your face up.
“Thought you were going to kill me.”
“I still might.”
“Mm.”
“You seem awfully confident for someone I could have exposed to an entire room of higher-ups.”
“But you didn’t.”
“You were hiding under my clothes.”
“And?”
“And I was a little busy.”
His mouth twitches.
Shit
“A little?”
“Don’t start.”
“Twice seems like more than a little.”
“You are so fucking—”
He kisses you. You make a startled sound against his mouth and grab the front of his jacket as he backs you into the table. Papers slide behind you, one dropping to the floor, but Satoru doesn’t even glance at them. Neither do you.
His hand stays firm at the back of your neck while you drag him closer by his jacket. When you feel him smile against your mouth, you bite his lower lip.
His fingers tighten slightly. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Still doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“Seeing how far you can push me.”
You give him your sweetest smile and bite him again. Satoru goes still for half a second.
“There she is.”
You barely have time to enjoy yourself before he turns you around. Your palms hit the council table, sending one of the abandoned documents skidding sideways.
“Satoru—”
“Stay.”
Your fingers curl against the polished wood but you don’t move.
Satoru steps in behind you, his hand settling at your waist as he bends close enough that his mouth brushes your ear. “Funny.”
“What?”
“All that talking about keeping me under control.”
You turn your head enough to glare at him. “I was doing fine until you started hiding under furniture like a child.”
“You were doing fine?”
“Yes.”
“You forgot how many assistant supervisors you wanted.”
Your eyes close.
Fuck
“And asked your uncle ‘what?’ because you weren’t listening.”
“I heard him.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I heard enough.”
Satoru laughs against your ear.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re still arguing.”
“Because you’re wrong.”
His hand slides to your hip and pulls you back against him. Your mouth closes.
“Go ahead,” he says. “Tell me how wrong I am.”
You open your mouth again and his fingers tighten around your hip. Nothing particularly convincing enough to say comes to mind. Satoru laughs.
You turn your head sharply. “Fuck you.”
“That’s better.”
“I hate when you—”
His hand comes back to your neck and he kisses you over your shoulder.
Hard enough that your fingers curl against the tabletop and the papers under your palms crumple. By the time he pulls away, you forgot what you were complaining about.
Worse, you follow his mouth. Barely an inch before you catch yourself, but Satoru sees it.
“Don’t.”
He smiles. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“Wasn’t necessary.”
“Asshole.”
His arm slips around your waist and pulls you back against him again. You let him.
That stupid smile is probably still on his face, but then his mouth touches your temple and you stop caring as much. He kisses your cheek next, then the corner of your mouth, so much softer than the kiss before it that you hesitate. Satoru does too.
His thumb brushes your waist. For once, neither of you has anything smart to say. You think about his hand holding yours underneath the table. The way it had gone still on your leg the second your uncle said your marriage wasn’t entirely your decision.
You turn your face and Satoru is already looking at you.
Oh, absolutely not
“Your hair looks fucking stupid.”
He stares at you for a second before laughing. “You did that.”
“And I’d do it again.”
“I know.”
You smile. “Good.” You should probably leave it there, but you can’t. “Maybe next time you’ll behave.”
His smile disappears.
Oh
“Satoru—”
His hand closes around the back of your neck again. “Still haven’t learned, huh?”
Your stomach flips. You lift your chin again. “Apparently not.”
Your robes are already half loosened from his hands and yours, the elaborate layers bunched around your hips as he kisses you hard enough to leave you breathless. You barely manage to catch yourself against the polished wood when he turns you around.
“Satoru—”
His hand settles at the back of your neck. “Enough.”
You glance back at him, still flushed from the meeting, hair already beginning to slip down from its pins.
“Don’t tell me—”
He presses you forward against the table, cutting that off without bothering to argue.
His thumb strokes once under your ear. “That’s better.”
You immediately scowl. “Don’t—”
His mouth catches yours over your shoulder before you can finish.
There’s nobody left in the room now. Nobody he has to hide from, no reason to keep quiet, and apparently no interest whatsoever in letting you finish a sentence. He kisses you until you’re breathless again, and when your hand reaches back automatically and tangles in his hair, he catches your wrist.
“No.”
You pull away enough to look at him. “Excuse me?”
Satoru puts your hand back on the table. You stare at it, then at him. He raises an eyebrow. You reach for him again. This time he catches both wrists and gathers them behind your back.
“There,” he murmurs. “Knew you couldn’t help it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Working on it.”
You pull against his grip anyway, more out of principle than any real expectation that he’ll let you go. He doesn’t.
Bastard
Satoru bends you farther over the lacquered surface, keeping your wrists gathered in one hand while the other pushes the remaining silk out of his way. The papers under you crumple.
For once, you do not give a shit.
The first push of him inside you knocks the attitude right out of you. Your breath leaves all at once.
So does his. “Oh—fuck.”
His hand tightens around your hip. Satoru stops there for a second, breathing hard against your shoulder while your body adjusts around him. When he pushes deeper, the sound that leaves him is rough enough to make your stomach tighten.
“God—you’re so fucking tight.”
You barely get his name out before he sinks the rest of the way in.
“Oh, fuck—” Your forehead meets the table.
Satoru groans behind you, low and broken, his grip tightening hard around your hip. For a moment neither of you moves. You can feel his chest against your back, the uneven drag of his breathing against your shoulder.
“Fuck,” he mutters into your skin. “So much better than I thought.”
Your eyes open and you start to look back at him.
His hand tightens at your neck. “Don’t.”
Of course you try anyway and Satoru presses you back down. You make an irritated noise and squirm under him.
His hand tightens. “Princess.”
You do it again. The next thrust knocks whatever satisfaction you were getting out of irritating him straight out of you.
A sharp sound escapes before you can swallow it.
Satoru’s mouth brushes your shoulder. “There we go.”
You glare back at him and he does it again. Harder. Your palms slide against the polished table. By the third, you aren’t glaring anymore. You’re too busy trying to breathe.
Satoru keeps your wrists pinned behind your back while he sets the pace, and every time you start to twist around or push yourself up, his hand at your neck puts you right back where he wants you.
“Satoru.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t—”
His hips snap forward and your argument breaks apart into a gasp. You try again anyway and he does it again.
“Fuck—”
His mouth brushes your ear. “You done?”
You manage to shake your head.
Satoru laughs quietly. “Course not.”
You push yourself up again. His palm settles between your shoulders and presses you back against the table. “I said stay.”
The words send a hot little shiver down your spine. You hate that. You hate even more that this time, when his hand leaves your shoulders, you stay exactly where he put you.
His mouth presses against the back of your neck and he starts moving again.
The table shifts faintly under you as his pace turns harder, one hand anchoring your hip while the other stays wrapped around your wrists. Your breathing breaks apart almost immediately, the composure you somehow maintained through the meeting is finally gone now that there is nobody left to see it.
“Satoru—”
His voice breaks against your shoulder. “Fuck.”
Another deep thrust makes your legs shake. You instinctively try to move away. His arm catches around your waist and pulls you straight back against him.
“Too much.” you moan.
Satoru kisses the side of your neck. “Take it.”
Your fingers tighten against your own palms. Another thrust and your breath catches. “Fuck—”
You stop trying to get away. His arm stays around your waist anyway.
The next kiss against your neck is slower, his mouth lingering there while he keeps moving behind you. “Good girl.”
Your entire body clenches around him. Satoru’s rhythm breaks. “Oh—fuuuuck.” His forehead drops against your shoulder, and for a second all you hear is his breathing.
You squeeze your eyes shut. “Don’t.”
A breathless laugh warms your skin. He kisses the back of your neck. “Good girl.”
Your knees nearly give out. Satoru catches you before they can, one arm tightening securely around your waist while his other hand slips between your thighs.
“Satoru—”
His fingers find your clit and whatever else you meant to say disappears.
“Oh—fuck.”
He keeps the same hard rhythm behind you, fingers moving circles on your clit until you can’t decide whether you’re trying to brace yourself against him or push closer.
Your hand catches his wrist but he doesn’t stop. Satoru’s other hand slides into your loosened hair and tips your head back against his shoulder.
“Stay.”
His grip tightens when you settle against him, and when your hips finally begin moving with his instead of trying to escape every deep thrust, a rough groan breaks against your neck.
“Fuck, princess.”
Your eyes close. His mouth moves over your shoulder, then higher, catching the skin under your ear while his fingers circle.
You’re not arguing anymore. You aren’t capable of it. Your fingers tighten around his wrist when another thrust makes your legs shake, and Satoru pulls you closer against him rather than letting you fold over the table again.
“Look at me.”
You shake your head.
His hand in your hair tightens. “Princess.”
You resist for another second, because apparently even now you have to make him work for absolutely everything. Then you turn your head.
Satoru catches your mouth immediately. The kiss is rough from the angle, his breathing unsteady against your lips, and you can feel every involuntary sound he makes when your body tightens around him. He’s flushed now, white hair completely wrecked from your hands earlier, blue eyes half-lidded when he pulls back far enough to look at you.
There’s no stupid grin. He looks wrecked. Not enough to loosen his hold on you. Not enough to stop controlling the pace or let you wriggle your way out of anything he’s decided you can take. Just enough that you know exactly how badly he wanted this too.
His forehead touches yours for half a second. “Fuck,” he breathes, almost like he’s saying it to himself.
Then his fingers press harder on your clit and his hand tightens in your hair. “Stay right there.”
And this time, you don’t even try to argue. Then his fingers circle faster and a cry slips out before you can stop it.
“There she is.”
“Shut up.”
Satoru kisses you before you can say anything else. It’s rough and awkward, but you kiss him back anyway, shivering against him by the time he pulls away.
Your hand finds his wrist at your waist and stays there, holding on. Satoru glances down at it. His fingers slide between yours and squeeze.
“Satoru…”
“I’ve got you.”
His other hand moving side to side against your clit as he keeps moving, and after everything he already did to you under the table, it doesn’t take much to send you dangerously close again.
When it becomes too much, you try to pull away. Satoru catches you around the waist and pulls you straight back against him. “Take it.”
You whimper something that might be his name.
His mouth brushes your temple. “You can.”
You squeeze his hand. Another deep thrust, his fingers pressing harder, and the tension finally snaps.
Your body locks against him as you come. Satoru already has you, one arm wrapped securely around your middle while he keeps moving through it.
You bury your face against your forearm to muffle yourself. He pulls you upright against his chest. “No.”
Your head falls back against his shoulder.
“Satoru—”
“Let me hear you.”
His fingers keep moving. You can’t hold it back this time. Your legs shake under you, another broken cry leaving you while Satoru holds you against him through every pulse.
“Fuck,” he groans into your neck when you clench around him. “Good girl.”
You grab his arm. His breathing is ragged now, his rhythm finally starting to falter. You feel the hitch when your body tightens around him again, followed by the rough curse he breathes against your shoulder.
Your mouth twitches. His hand tightens around your waist. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
You might have argued if he hadn’t kissed you again. Instead, the laugh that escapes against his mouth turns into another moan when he presses you forward over the table and starts moving harder.
There’s no reason to be quiet anymore. That realization should probably embarrass you more than it does.
When the pace becomes almost too much again, your hand closes desperately around his wrist. You don’t push him away. You just hold onto him.
Satoru kisses the side of your face. “Take it for me.”
His hand slides into your loosened hair and turns your face toward his. You meet him halfway, and he kisses you hard, still holding your hand while the last of his careful control finally starts slipping.
His breathing breaks against your mouth. His grip tightens around you. “Fuck—”
He buries his face against your neck with a broken groan, both arms closing around you as he comes. You both stay still for a minute.
Without his voice, your uncle arguing across the table, or the rustle of papers around you, the council chamber feels strangely quiet.
Your breathing is loud in your own ears. Satoru’s is worse, warm against your neck as he leans against you.
You give him a few seconds. Then say, “You’re heavy.”
Satoru laughs into your shoulder. “You’re horrible.”
“Get off me.”
“You like me.”
You open your mouth with some automatic denial ready, but his arms tighten around you.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
That stops you. You turn your head. Satoru lifts his face from your neck, his hair completely wrecked, and his cheeks still flushed. There’s a faint mark on his lower lip where you bit him.
You reach up and push his hair away from his forehead. “You look terrible.”
“There she is.”
“Your hair was already stupid.”
“You did this to it.”
“You needed improvement.”
He catches your hand before you can lower it and kisses your palm.
You frown. “Stop doing that.”
“No.”
His mouth moves to the inside of your wrist.
“Satoru.”
“Mm?”
You stare at him. Unfortunately, you have nothing to say. His smile starts again.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
He kisses your palm again.
When he finally pulls away, he keeps an arm around your waist. You understand why the second you try to stand up and your legs object.
You grab his arm. Satoru looks down at your hand. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking very loudly.”
“Sure you can stand?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to let go?”
You glare at him and he grins.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
He helps you onto the edge of the table anyway. Then both of you look down. Your robes are fucking destroyed.
The sash is hanging halfway to the floor, one sleeve is twisted, several layers are bunched where they absolutely shouldn’t be, and enough pins have fallen out that half your hair is hanging loose.
You stare down at yourself then at Satoru. “Oh, you are dead.”
“Again?”
“My attendants are going to know.”
“Tell them there was an incident.”
“There was an incident. His name is Satoru Gojo.”
“That sounds official.”
You smack his arm. He catches your hand before you can do it again, laughing, but instead of letting go, he brings your knuckles to his mouth.
The laugh dies somewhere between one kiss and the next. His thumb passes over your fingers. “You meant it, right?”
You know what he means. Your uncle. The photographs. The winter gathering.
“Yes.”
Satoru nods. “Good.”
You look at him.
“If they bring it up again, don’t make it easier for them.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I know.”
There’s something deeply irritating about how easily he says it. No lecture about what you should do. No explanation of your responsibilities like you haven’t heard them your entire life.
Just I know.
You squeeze his fingers. Satoru glances down at your joined hands before looking back at you.
“Besides, their list sucked.”
You groan. “Oh my god.”
“I’m serious.”
“You saw photographs.”
“Enough photographs.”
“You know absolutely nothing about those men.”
“I know I’m prettier.”
“There it is.”
“And taller.”
“Satoru.”
“Stronger.”
“You are not helping your case.”
“Funniest.”
“You spent an entire council meeting under a table.”
“Exactly. None of them would’ve thought of that.”
You stare at him. He looks completely sincere. A laugh escapes you. “You’re an idiot.”
“You like me.”
You reach up and straighten the collar you ruined.
“Yes,” you say. “Unfortunately.”
Satoru goes quiet.
You smooth the fabric once. “I like you.”
Maybe for the first time since you met him, Satoru Gojo has nothing clever to say. Then his hand slips behind your neck and he kisses you. Slowly this time.
When he pulls away, his thumb is still resting under your ear. “I like you too.”
You narrow your eyes. “That was disgustingly sincere.”
“Yeah. Hated it.”
“Never do it again.”
“Absolutely not.”
You smile, and he kisses you again before finally looking down at the disaster he made of your clothes.
Satoru reaches for your sash but you catch his wrist. “No.”
“I’m helping.”
“You don’t know how.”
“How hard can it be?”
You stare at him and he stares back.
“Satoru, there are six layers.”
“I can count.”
“That isn’t the part I’m worried about.”
He picks up the sash anyway and you snatch it back. “No.”
“Princess.”
“You’ll make it worse.”
“I’m pretty sure I can tie a piece of fabric.”
“It is not a piece of fabric.”
“Sounds elitist.”
“It’s my clothes!”
He takes it from you again. You let him this time for the sole purpose of watching him prove you right. It takes less than a minute. You look down at what he’s done. Then up at him.
“Satoru.”
He studies his work. “Looks fine.”
“It’s backwards.”
“Is it?”
“Yes!”
He tilts his head like maybe viewing it from another angle will somehow change the construction of your clothes.
You close your eyes. “Move.”
Satoru laughs and finally lets you fix it yourself, although apparently move means stand directly behind you with both arms around your waist.
You try to straighten the sash. His chin lands on your shoulder.
“You’re distracting me.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You are physically attached to me.”
“Helping you stand.”
“I can stand.”
His arms loosen. Your knees immediately feel considerably less trustworthy. You grab his forearm.
“Don’t.”
Satoru starts laughing.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
You go back to fixing the sash while he settles comfortably against you again.
“You are incapable of merely standing anywhere.”
“That’s hurtful.”
“You spent half the afternoon crouched in front of my chair.”
His mouth brushes your shoulder. “Best seat in the room.”
Your hands stop. Satoru laughs against your skin and you elbow him. “Behave.”
His arms tighten around your waist. “No.”
You make it halfway down the corridor before you hear your uncle’s voice around the corner.
“Years of indulgence,” another elder says. “That is the problem. She has been treated like a princess for so long that she behaves like a spoiled brat whenever she is denied something.”
Satoru stops. You look at him. “Don’t.”
“What?”
He looks perfectly innocent.
You grab his sleeve. “I know that face.”
Your uncle rounds the corner first and stops when he sees you. The elder beside him follows his gaze.
“Gojo.”
“Hi.”
“Satoru,” you warn. “Behave.”
His mouth twitches.
The elder looks at your hand on his sleeve, then at you. “Perhaps someone ought to teach her that she cannot simply do whatever pleases her.”
Satoru’s smile fades.
“This is a Kamo matter,” your uncle says.
“Yeah, you guys keep saying that.”
“She has been indulged her entire life.”
“I know.”
The elder frowns. “You say that as though it’s admirable.”
Satoru looks down at you. “I like her spoiled.”
You stare at him. “Satoru.”
“What?”
He takes your hand from his sleeve and laces his fingers through yours.
“She is demanding. Disrespectful. She has no regard for—”
“Careful.”
Your uncle’s eyes narrow.
Satoru lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles. “I’m the only one who gets to call her a brat.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake
Your uncle looks at your joined hands. Then at Satoru. “Gojo,” he says slowly. “What precisely are your intentions toward my niece?”
You turn your head. Satoru doesn’t answer right away. For once, he actually seems to think about something before saying it.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Your uncle’s face hardens.
You frown. “You haven’t decided?”
Satoru looks at you over his glasses. “I know I want the princess.”
Your face turns pink. “Satoru.”
“What? The rest is details.”
“Those are pretty important details.”
“I’ll figure them out.”
Your uncle looks like he would very much like to have this conversation without you present. Or Satoru. Preferably both.
You grab Satoru by the sleeve and start pulling him away. “That’s enough.”
“I was being polite.”
“You told my uncle you want me.”
“Politely.”
“You are never speaking to my family again.”
He laughs and lets you drag him down the corridor. “That’s gonna make holidays awkward.”
You stop. Satoru gets another step before your joined hands pull him back. You turn slowly.
“What?”
“Why would you be at my family’s holidays?”
He tugs on your hand until you’re back beside him. “Princess, I just told your uncle I want you.”
“So?”
“Your family likes me.”
“My uncle looks like he wants you dead.”
“See? Practically family already.”
You smack his arm. Satoru laughs and starts walking again, still holding your hand.
“Satoru.”
“Mm?”
“You cannot tell my uncle you want me and then just leave.”
Synopsis. Welcome to the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT! Where we take the information given on your profile, a few tests run by our team of experienced matchmakers, and our cutting-edge matchmaking system to scientifically pair you up with the perfect JJK man to ahem- make you Juno, you know?
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, bed chem, matchmaking, Dr. Shoko cameo, she’s had enough, NEEDY JJK men, chokíng, spítting, Iíngerie, DlLF!Toji, ex!Geto, arguing while doing it, ROUGH s, p talking, p sIapping, cIit pinching, doggy, fuII neIsons, toys (Sukuna), DP, BIIIIG stretches, pushing down, cervíx smooches, manhandIing, DÚMBlFICATION, Choso with píercings, Choso’s inspired by HoriMiya a little, matíng presses, fírst times (him), pùssydrunk JJK men, bíting, prem. ejac, nerd!Gojo, creampíes, cúmplay, Iove hotels, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. DADDY TONY’S BAAAAAACK!! And I might not have brought chiId support but I DID bring the Iittle announcement that I might…mayhaps…be working on my own Iittle story hehehe. It’s what I’ve been so busy with- and it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for a looooong time now. I’ve currently been worldbuilding smmmm ah, but yeah! Hoping to share this one with you too one day babygirls <33
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 99.96% MATCH!
“So is this thing measuring, like…bed chemistry?”
Oh. Your words ring far too loudly inside your ears - let alone inside this clinic. And you’re not quite sure who to blame—Dr. Ieiri Shoko for keeping her office so barren, or yourself for asking that question.
Like the bleached inside of a tusk, the surface of a porcelain plate just a touch too smooth. Too polished. Intimacy has never been so undefiled as these cold white walls advancing upon either side of you, clung onto by a fugitive nervousness that was white-hot. Not just yours - but the tens of thousands of clients that the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT boasts to have helped on their site.
It’s not quite what one imagines when they say ‘famous matchmaking agency’.
Your smile tightens. “M-my apologies, I hope I didn’t offend-”
“Yes.” Her sudden answer makes you stop. “Yes, it is like bed chem.”
You gulp.
“And it seems you’re a 99.96% match with ah- Mr. Fushiguro Toji.”
99.96%.
‘Oh’ was right.
Just his name sends a thrill down your spine.
Your fists clench in your lap, and before you know it, you’re nodding at the woman. “I would…like to meet him, please.”
.
.
.
Name: Fushiguro Toji
Age: ?*
Occupation: ??
Category: DILF
Primary likings: Rough. Manhandling. Doggy. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 8 onwards…)
*Got offended when asked (assumed mid-thirties).
One date that lasts about an hour.
One date that lasts about an hour - that’s all it takes for the boiling tension between you and ‘Mr. Fushiguro Toji’ to bubble over. Perhaps it was due to the shared knowledge that you two were scientifically identified to be perfect sexual matches, perhaps it was the way those vine-green eyes swept over you leisurely, appreciatively, as you walked into the romantic dinner date arranged by the agency.
It seems Toji had entered himself into the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT on accident after believing it was a normal matchmaking agency.
“—so imagine my surprise when I get there n’ all the questions are about what positions I like to stick my dick in?” He’d gruffed over the candlelit dinner - French cuisine, was it? A few of the other patrons glared at him, but Toji paid no attention. “I mean- I went along with it, of course. Already paid about twenty yen, hmpf…but I hadn’t actually planned to go through with this bullshit until-”
Those intense eyes of his flickered to you once more.
“-I saw that application of yours- of course.” And you felt the inchoate desire in your stomach give a strange twist—“A 99.6-”
“99.96%. Actually.” You interrupted, gnawing on your bottom lip.
“Interesting.” Toji smiled and leaned back into his chair. “Really interesting.”
And perhaps it was—
“Don’t tell me I’ve fucked ya speechless already when I haven’t even put it in?”
You’re snapping back to your senses- enough reminiscing about those first few minutes of meeting the man that was currently hugging you close to him - crushing you against his sultry sweat-sticky abs - not in a gentle display of affection, but such a lecherous embrace. Tacking his toned pelvis against your ass. Letting his engorged tip push-push-push between your pussylips and sliiiiiiiide down all those tender innards.
Toji keeps you from moving even a single inch as he shuffles you into doggy position. The bed whines just as you do. “S’this your favorite?” He watches from the corner of his eye as you nod. “Yeahhhh, mine fuckin’ too, girlie.”
And, in emphasis, he’s circling one roughened palm over your right ass cheek—giving just a brazen little smack.
“Mine fuckin’ too, girlie.”
“I mean, there’s a reason they matched us.” You huff at him.
“Yeah- and I’m about to find out.” Toji mutters. And you’re hearing him before anything else - the soft creaking! of that shitty love hotel bed, dipping, as he shuffles even closer—the sultry lil’ smooch of his wet tip kissing your hole. Thump-thump-thump—you can count every pulse. His or yours? “Bite the pillow.”
“Why would I need to- ohhhh, mpf-”
The answer to your question comes swift and merciless - because in one fluid motion Toji has his cocktip burgeoning inside, and his hips plastering to yours.
He keeps both hands - warm and slightly gnarled with callouses from whatever shady line of business he was in - firmly upon either side of your waist. Using his massive strength to jerk you back—just a little…But it feels like Toji was pumping thoroughly into your deepest core.
He was usin’ the little flare underneath his tip to stretch that snug channel- stretching and stretching that first ring of muscle. And then bashing his cockhead in so roughly that you start to wonder whether he was having issues controlling himself—you’re feeling Toji let out a little cracked groan as he feels your walls quiver around him. And then he’s pushing his hot cock in aaaaaaall the way as deep as it could go- “Aaaaaaatta girl. That’s a good girl. Now for the fun part…”
You furrow your brows half-heartedly. “This isn’t already the fun part?” Earning yourself the oh-so-lascivious punishment of yet another spank on your right cheek; and then a few more probin’ pushes of his cock. “I was just—oh-” Your toes curl as he hits a particularly good spot without even trying.
“It is.” Toji responds. “But it’s just about to get a whole lot more fun.”
You’re shivering as one of his fingertips paint the line down your spine, immediately followed by a string of kisses as far as he could go. But, of course, you never did expect Fushiguro Toji to be so gentle—did you? You never wanted him to be, did you?
Because his lips hover ‘round the soft skin of your right shoulder—and without warning, he’s biting. Your mouth opens in a soundless scream.
With a grunt that sounds as though it’s been dragged from the primal depths of his throat, Toji jerks your hips back into his with a plap! of skin-on-skin. And almost before that, he’s suddenly starting to pummel and pummel those rugged hips of his into yours, utterly molding his thick cock into your goopy insides- coating every inch with a layer of his slick—
“Because.” Toji gruffs out in an animalistic way - he angles his head and licks a long stripe up your neck. “Because- it took me a loooooooong time to get matched on that damn program. A long fuckin’ time.”
“Oh-” You’re yelping as he tugs your arms from underneath you- and you’re collapsing face-first into the soft strawberry-scented pillows. Collapsed doggy.
And before you know it, Toji straightens up and lets the heel of one of his feet rest on the corner of your shoulder. “Tch- way too fucking long.” This angle lets his cock penetrate even deeper, and his bouldering tip pushes into every single slick-filled orifice inside. “How long should it take to find a pretty babe f’me who likes it rough—” And he fucks you rough. “-who likes it hard—” And he fucks you hard. “-who likes me disrespectin’ this pussy like she deserves. Now how hard should that be, hm?”
And you’re unsure whether he was genuinely expecting a response or not - but you’re letting out a blabber of something you hope is comprehensible either way. “I—mmm, notthathard-”
“Exactly.” Toji huffs out a short breath of laughter. Then his hands are on you—pushing on the base of your spine and arching you in ways you didn’t even know were possible.
“O-ohhhhhh, harder-”
“Thought you said it wasn’t that hard? And throw in a little manhandling-” Arching. “Just a little dumbification.” Making you drool. He reaches his foot - just a little, just softly - up to put pressure on near your neck n’ restrict your air flow—he leaves you gasping and choking with every thrust. “A little choking- heh.” He looks you over. “Maybe a few daddy issues-”
“Hey!”
“And then you’ve got it. Perfectly matching. Now that shouldn’t be so hard, hm?”
But you can’t quite answer.
Because Toji’s fucking you so good- he’s thrusting his cock into yours like he wants his pelvis melded to yours ass. He’s crushing and draaaagging your limp body down the bed and into his strong arms.
It’s almost as if your bodies are communicating with a secret language, because whenever you’re bouncing back he’s angling juuuust right to swab into your g-spot, when you’re jerking forwards he’s chasin’ after that syrupy-sweet pussy of yours. Candied with glittering globs of his pre.
Creating a swatting sound so loud, creating a pressure between your legs so hard, that your ears start ringing—“Oh, p-please…”
“And y’know the only difference between you and me?” Toji’s still steamrolling his dirty sentences- and you can barely blink your eyes open past all the pleasure he’s giving you. But you must manage to make some noise of question, because he continues. “That agency categorized me as a DILF. And you’re no MILF…yet.”
A shockwave runs down your spine.
“Th-that means…”
Toji leans in and huffs. Clammy breath. “So that profile said something about a breeding kink?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - 100.1% (?) MATCH!
“You’ve done it. I’m ah…not quite sure how- but you’ve done it.” Dr. Shoko breathes. And although the words are in her usual impervious tone of voice, there’s a quiver there at the end that, after weeks of appointments with the doctor, you’ve learned to pick out as foreign.
Dr. Ieiri Shoko never wavers.
You’re leaning in and attempting to peek at your file. “Is there something wrong, doctor?”
“Not unless you count breaking the program’s metric wrong.” She slides over the file - face down as though the documents inside would snap at her if she wasn’t careful - and you’re immediately flipping it open. Your eyes widen as they’re immediately drawn to the bold, underlined number of a 100.1% match shown at the top of the first page—you’re then meeting Shoko’s own widened gaze.
“Huh?”
“That’s putting it lightly.” Shoko opens her drawer and takes out two caplets of Extra Strength Tylenol and chugs them down—no water. She closes her eyes for a second to let them pass down her slender throat, and once she opens them again she’s immediately looking down at the file - as if hoping it had disappeared in the time.
But no such luck for Dr. Ieiri Shoko today.
She lets out a prolonged sigh and leans back in her chair. Enough time has passed that the two of you could forgo such formalities in the presence of the other, “I just…I just don’t know how that could happen. Mathematically and scientifically, it just doesn’t make sense. And yet, the program never makes a mistake- never.”
You understood her plight - you’d looked over (and passed on) your fair share of matches, and the highest you’d gotten was a 78% match with some guy called Atsumu Miya—you just had this nagging feeling that you’d find a greater match.
A stronger…chemistry with someone else.
And so you’d passed. And passed. And passed, until you were starting to feel that perhaps you’d never find a match greater than the 90% or even 80% statistics that the site often boasted. That is until…
Name: Nanami Kento
Age: 27
Occupation: Office worker
Category: Gentleman with a big D.
Primary likings: Service dom. Fitting. Milk him. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 9 onwards…)
Your eyes linger on those last two words of his Primary Likings section: milk him…
And immediately you’re feeling a thrill shoot up between your legs—causing them to squeeze together, causing Shoko’s eyes to quickly flicker down at the miniscule action. “Hm.” She types something on her keyboard - and you assume she’s shooting an email to one of the matchmakers in the program. “Maybe that’s what they mean by a match of 100.1%…”
White-hot embarrassment curls around your heart. “What? Oh, you’re incorrigible-”
“And you’re glad.” She smirks. “This is what you’re been waiting all this time for, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes…” You’re looking down at the passport-sized photo of Nanami on the front page. It was seemingly some sort of office photo he must’ve used in his resumes as well; and there he stood all sharp and aloof - almost bored - in a form-fitting suit and his blond hair pushed back smoothly, deep-set eyes almost piercing through the photocopied paper. Like an utter gentleman. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe.”
.
.
.
“It’s okay, darling, you don’t have to take it all—”
“But I want to, Kento.”
There’s something so sensual - so utterly fucking erotic - about the way Nanami looks when he’s on the verge of pussydrunkness. Sprawled out on the love hotel mattress. Jawline dotted with your recently-made hickies. His thick thighs are tensing and untensing—just as you’re straddlin’ his hips just a little wider and taking in Nanami’s rock-hard, drippin’ wet cock.
A meek blush creeps up the man’s cheeks once you cup them.
You’re lifting Nanami’s handsome face up to meet yours, and keep such looong, loving eye contact as you’re sliding your hips down and gulping one more inch after inch. Thick inch after inch.
The poor man’s breath catches and he’s letting out a little whimper as Nanami’s hot girth fills you up tantalizingly. “Oh sh-shit—”
Your body arches into his. “Mmm, with such a big, pretty cock like this - how could I not?”
“P-pretty…” He repeats. Those golden-hazel eyes of his widen behind his glasses, and you swear you see them welling up with tears as you take him. “But darling, what if it’s too big?”
“It could never be too big.” You cock your head with a sultry smile. “We’re a 100.1% match, remember? That means…”
In emphasis, you’re swervin’ your hips down in a semi-circular motion that makes him drive even deeper.
“-every part of us matches.”
And then poor Nanami Kento - overworked, underpaid, going off of nothing but instant coffee and the smell of freshly-baked bread from the bakery near the office - is being ridden to heaven by your devilish hips. Up and down. Up and down. The way you’re digging your nails into his shoulders…the way you’re pushing your nipples up against his pecs, rubbing…the way you’re clenchin’ around his tip - right where he was the reddest and hottest and most sensitive - every time he probes inside.
A too-loud moan erupts from his lips—and Nanami immediately attempts to clamp his mouth shut.
But there’s no use. You’re watching with a knowing smile as you’re fucking such lasvicious moans n’ ribbons of spittle out of him. With every single squeeze.
Spit drips down the side of his mouth- and he shivers as you lean in and lick it away. “S-so that means…” He whispers. Almost to himself. Those pretty eyes of his keep starin’ down lovingly at the area you two were connected. “-this lovely lady is made for me?”
“If by ‘lovely lady’, you’re referring to my pussy…” You reply coyly. You throw your arms around him and tug on those precious golden curls at the nape of his neck. It makes a sexy grunt escape Nanami’s lips. “Then why don’t you find out?”
And Nanami doesn’t know why- he can’t help himself.
It’s just like…the more times he’s thrusting inside your cunt, semi-thrusts, the deeper he’s delving between those sweet pussylips, the more addicted he’s getting to it.
He’s reaching up and pressing down where he was fitting inside.
“Oh.” Nanami’s eyes grow heavy. Drunk on lust. A twinge of pain runs up your core as he squeezes a mere inch more, “Oh. I-is this okay?”
“Keep going.”
And he’s stretching you so much you can’t even begin to describe—
“Shiiiiit-”
“Does it hurt? I hope it doesn’t hurt-”
“No no- oh, more-”
“It’s true—” He spits. Beads of sweat plaster his temple, and his features twitch in pure carnal ecstasy as you squeeze your pretty legs tighter around him. A vein makes itself prominent on his neck. “Fuck, it’s true- she’s taking me so well-”
With a single thumb, he spreads apart your pussylips n’ watches his inches slip inside.
“And she’s so hungry for it, too.” Nanami looks up at you. “Do you think she’s been hungry for it all this time, my love? My cock?”
“Oh, I bet.” Throwing your head back—you’re practically plastered against Nanami’s surprisingly toned front. “Keep going, keep going, keep going, please- Kento—”
“Anything for you.”
And to be honest, Nanami Kento never saw himself as the wild type in bed.
For starters, he was a busy man—spreedsheets were his regular partner, and powerpoints were his mistress. And perhaps that was the exact reason Shoko, his lifelong friend, had signed him up for this stupid program. As much as Nanami had howled and huffed about the ethics of signing one’s friend up for this and ‘but he needs to work that day so he doesn’t need to do overtime…’ lo and behold there he found you.
Well, more like you found him.
Showing up so pretty and perfect for your first meeting in Shoko’s office—and when he’d seen that match measurement of 100.1%…Nanami felt a sudden flare of madness: that perhaps this entire thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Your second meeting had been in this cramped love hotel.
And Nanami had meant to wine and dine you- he’d meant to…but here he was. Hand clamoring to clasp either side of your hips - leaving crescent nail marks. Hips pushing off the mattress in animalistic little jerks—not even propery fucking inside, just yearning to feel the carnal squeeze of your cunt—
He hits that one spot. And he knows he does.
Because Nanami’s feeling his rotund cockhead push apart your pussylips n’ then slip somewhere deeeeep inside - one velvety bundle of nerves that makes you moan uncontrollably. Just a few inches more and he’d be hitting your coveted cervix…
And he does, but it feels like whiplash.
Because soon enough Nanami’s flipped the two of you over so that the bed dips with your combined weight, with you being manhandled onto your back, and Nanami’s cock wedging deeper into your cunt than it’s ever gone before. Inch by inch. It’s a hypnotizing mix of pain and pleasure as he marks every nook, cranny, and crevice inside you with silky dollops of pre.
He finally fits.
And Nanami lets out a massive gasp - several - as though he’d just finished a marathon once he does so. “100.1%” He throatily repeats - whilst it feels like you’re squeezing him strong enough to milk him. You’re letting out a botched moan as he nudges against your cervix with the top of his smooth tip, smearing sprays of gooey precum—as if he’d go even deeper if he could.
“I wonder what the 0.1% is, my love?”
You’re not getting out of here alive.
♡ GETO SUGURU - 98% (UN)MATCH!
“This is so stupid- we have no bed chemistry.”
“Absolutely no chemistry.”
“Seriously no chemistry.”
“Not even an ounce of chemistry.”
“Then why’re you inside me?”
“Why’d you ask me to be inside you?”
“I’m the one asking the questions here-” You scoff—but you know he’s got you cornered. And by the smug expression on Geto Suguru’s stupidly handsome face, he knows that too.
Unfortunately for him - you’re never one to back down. And so you’re slightly lifting your hips off the sweat-sodden mattress, not giving the man a second of warning before you’re clamping your silken walls down haaaaard ‘round his cock—and you try to ignore just how good - and familiar - it feels to have him inside you.
There was the thickness of his cockhead - flared the most at the base and perfect to jostle apart your slutty channel like you wanted so badly. There was one- two- three of his most prominent veins, curved down the middle of his shaft and rubbing against your pulsating soft spots. There was the arch of his erection that meant he’d not only be pushed against your cervix- but also up at the roof of your cunt.
His breath hitches, and he’s letting his head throw back. Cute.
And you never did expect to be matched with your stupid ex on that stupid sexual matchmaking program.
Let alone actually have sex with him again.
Let alone this be your fourth round.
Name: Geto Suguru
Age: 28
Occupation: Prefers not to say
Category: Morally grey.
Primary likings: Degradation. Spitting. Choking. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 69 onwards…)
“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” Dr. Shoko had commented. “Maybe a little check-up-”
“No.” You’d responded. “I’m ah- fine. It’s just—what sort of a category is that?”
“You’d be surprised what our clients are into.” She looked at you with amusement. “And, it seems, you as well.”
You shrunk in the clinic seat in shame.
And the most infuriating part of all…was that the damn program had been correct.
Geto managed to string your body n’ your pleasure along as if it took him no effort—he’d memorized all your sweetest spots inside and it seems he’d never forgotten, he’d never hesitate before spankin’ on your throbbing clit because he already knows it’s going to set your body alight, he’d thrash and thrash his hips into yours because he was fucking angry. And you were, too.
So why did the two of you break up in the first place? Ah, let’s just say…that plans of world domination and date nights don’t go together that well.
But Geto, it seems, was a changed man (or so he said).
He’d dissolved his cult that he always refused to call a cult (or so he said). He was back to self-studying and mending his relationships (or so he said) except, of course, his one with you…
“Stop thinking about what an asshat I am, you always get that look when you think about what an asshat I am.” You’re hearing Geto scoff from above you—and he has the audacity to lean down and prod your furrowed brow relaxed. “S’gonna make me soft.”
“Join the club, I’m already dry.”
With a single - perfectly shaped - brow raised, Geto creeps his right hand down your side—letting those soft fingertips of his just lightly caress the front of your cunt. Your utterly sodden cunt. “That’s not what this pussy’s telling me?”
You’re scrambling onto your elbows. “Communication issues for two years and suddenly you’re the pussy whisperer?”
“Yes. Good that you’re catching up-” That very hand comes up to push you down—“Down, gorgeous- let’s do it my favorite position, hm?”
You scoff. “I don’t remember your favorite position.”
“Oh yeah? Then why’re you halfway down to a full nelson?”
And it was true—ah, for all your supposed pride and dignity, and the pep talk that you’d given yourself before the agency-organized dinner date that you would totally not fuck Geto Suguru no matter how handsome he looked…
But dammit, he’d worn his long hair down.
Of course, the two of you argued over your romantic dinner. Squabbling. Bickering. Making the server hold in his laughter every time you (admittedly immaturely yet albeit justifiably) swiped something off of Geto’s plate when he wasn’t looking; whatever one wanted to call it.
Of course, the two of you ended up at the love hotel a few minutes away from the restaurant; whatever one wanted to call it.
And currently you’re basking in the saturated, sickly-sweet strawberry scent bursting out in plumes from the love hotel pillows. “Eugh- I hate this smell.”
“Oh shush, you’re underneath me.” Geto got himself settled in the full nelson underneath you- and he doesn’t waste a single second before collectin’ a few trickles of slick on his right palm. He then grabs himself and coats his shaft in all the gossamer substance—pushing his perky tip against your hole. And then inside.
“O-ohhhhh—” Your voice cracks.
“Shut up, you’ve taken me more.” Geto spits- and at that very moment, you’re embarrassed to say that a carnal part of you twitches. And soon enough, he’s getting absolutely slathered in all those dewy droplets of sap that he’s missed so much since the break-up—absolutely claiming him, is what Geto likes to think. “And heh- based on what I read on your profile…me telling you to shut up just made you wetter-”
“A coincidence.” You sputter. “S-surely a coincidence.”
“Hmmm? And is it a coincidence that almost all those cute kinks on your profile were ones that I got you into?” He purrs- purrs.
“Not all- hngh, of them-”
“Maybe, but let’s be real, gorgeous—” And then Geto trails off - and it’s never a good sign when Geto trails off. Because that means- smack! As expected, his fingertips come slammin’ down until your clit’s swelling just a bit more, and his hips don’t slow down for a single second. You’re wincing as he keeps steamrolling. “-this pussy learned most of her tactics from me.”
What arrogance. Although you couldn’t lie- seeing Geto so worked up sent pangs of pleasure searing through every fibre of your body. And your favorite method to get him to shut up was to-
“Clench.” He’s gritting his teeth—hissing his words out through them, as he bucks his hips upwards- meeting your flutterin’ walls head-on with a sudden thwack! at your cervix. “Yeah- don’t think I don’t know about your secret technique-” Geto sounds crazed as he whispers in your ear, tone hitching and warbling with every second. But he still keeps going. “-and who taught you that clenchin’ so hard- clenching with the force of your core- feels so good?”
“I-I…” Saliva seeps into your mouth twofold now that Geto’s increasing his pace. He reaches over n’ licks that little splatter-
“I-I-I-I…” Geto mocks. “I don’t think you’re being truthful, girl~”
“It was you—” You’re yowling- attempting to stand upwards to perhaps get ahold of yourself - but the only thing you’re succeeding in doing is urging Geto to wrap his left arm around your neck and draaaaaaag you right back down.
You gasp at the sensation of his thick biceps; the firmness and strength held within them; the curves and dips of his muscles. “And who taught you that getting choked like this feels good?”
You’re so woozy- fuck, your head’s throbbing and you’re feeling the wadded-up remnants of cum Geto’s left behind from previous rounds. Harder and harder. Rougher, his balls keep slapping against the front of your sodden folds. “You…”
“And who taught you that this pussy feels better when m’being mean?”
“You—”
“And who’s getting back together with you?”
“You- wait, what?”
“Heh.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - 92% MATCH!
Name: Kamo (Itadori) Choso
Age: ?*
Occupation: Student
Category: Hey, hey, hey EMO BOY!
Primary likings: Subbing. Getting pussydrunk. Shooting blanks. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 14 onwards…)
*Client became nervous after seeing the diagrams of sexual positions in the following forms and could not answer (EDIT: Later confirmed 23 but spiritually 150 (?)).
“Him?”
Dr. Shoko sits statuesquely before you. No change in her expression. Not even the slightest twitch in her fingers as she flips through your documents one more time.
After a moment of silence, she takes a deep breath and asks. “Erm- my apologies, but would I be right in assuming that you’re not attracted to hi-”
“No—no, no, no, no, no-”
“Ah- well, that’s one way to pass on a match-”
“No- that’s- that’s not what I meant.” Red-hot embarrassment, shot through with a spike of excitement once your eyes drop down to the profile of the man once more, curdles in your chest. And you’re sure you look quite frantic attempting to rescind…perhaps everything you’ve blurted out in the past five minutes. Dr. Shoko raises a brow. “Of course, I’m attracted to him.”
A knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Oh?”
“Yeah- of course.” You cough out. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Piercings glinting on his ears, snakebites on his lips, and a nervous - almost sheepish, but with a bring-your-daughter-home-at-2AM defiance - expression on his face. Just your type. “He’s perfect, actually.”
Dr. Shoko puts her documents down on the table and crosses her legs. “Then what seems to be the problem?”
“It’s just…I kinda know him?” You’re wincing. “We go to the same university- he does Japanese History, and I’ve seen him ‘round in the Anime Club.”
She hums. “Mm, you seem to know a lot about him.”
You almost sputter- “J-just as much as the average person would…But the thing is that on campus he just looks a little…different? I guess? Imagine your typical nerd—glasses, vests, knows one too many things about Tolkien, cute.” Dr. Shoko throws you a look—nerds were a close second on your list of types, okay?! And you’d always believed Choso was cute even before all this sprucing up. “Anyways. That sort of thing.” And then you’re taking a second look at the photograph on his profile - maybe the distance would help you see him clearly? And nothing. “And now…”
Everything else matched up.
It was just in his photograph where he looked like he belonged in an early 2000’s emo band.
You let out a slight gasp. “Is he catfishing m-”
“No. Although that would be a little entertaining to see…” Dr. Shoko mutters that last part to herself- “However, Mr. Kamo has shown up to every appointment in exactly this style. Could it be that perhaps he prefers one style for university, and the other in private?”
“Probably.” You sigh. And you see that look on her face- you know that look on her face. “Oh, fine. We both know I want you to match us.”
.
.
.
“Fuh-fuck pleeeease—” Veins, reddened and irritated, snake down the expanse of Choso’s neck - and you’re not surprised. Not when Choso kept twitchin’ and bucking with every single fwop! of your cunt slamming down onto his hips, letting his cock rover deeeeeply inside.
Oh-so-deeply.
You’ve got the poor man sat up against the headboard of this crappy love hotel. You’ve got his face pushed between your tits, as you’re bouncing your hips up and down. Up and down. Up and down.
Cute suctioning noises let off where he’s glued his mouth to one of your tits, letting his cheeks hollow as he suckles. “Please- ngh.” Unabashed tears roll down Choso’s cheeks, “Do you really think I can cum again?” Ending his sentence with a single jagged thrust inside your gooey depths.
“But of course.” You purr—purr. It’s enough to make Choso shudder, ravenous cock twitching. “Because I said so. And what did I say about me saying so?”
“M-mommy’s always right when she says so…” He responds- cheeks burning such a sweltering red.
“Hah…” Leaning down you kiss him- at least, it starts off a kiss. But soon enough you have your tongue sliding across his bottom lip, playing with the sexy snake bites that pierce through the nerd’s lower lip. Always with his nose stuck in a book—you’re kicking yourself for not noticing the holes sooner. “Not so tough now, are you?”
You’ve been teasing him for what feels like eons - but in reality has been about two…maybe three…maybe seven rounds cooped-up inside this love hotel - now; and it’s enough to set Choso on all sorts of edges. Choso can’t speak. Choso can’t form a single thought. Choso can’t control his body- what the fuck he can’t…Unable to stop himself from constantly yearning that sweet pressure that comes from striking the flat surface of the back of your pussy—
His hips are stinging. But he’s still pushing and pushing and pushing.
“Just one more, then?” He asks. Tears in his eyes.
“Awwww- you really are an emo boy. I can’t believe you had the entire campus fooled for years now.” You snicker- watching as his eyes narrow…first in exasperation, and then in ecstacy as you’re squeezing ‘round his cock. “Mhm. Just one more- mommy has to reward you for losing your virginity, doesn’t she?” You ask. Expectedly, Choso nods and nods.
That had been the entire reason for his participation in this program, it seems - the poor thing wanted to get some experience. And you couldn’t blame him—nor be nice to him. According to his profile, Choso liked it when he was fucked hard- no experience and already thinking like a freak, huh? He was definitely your type.
Tapping at your chin in an exaggerated display of thinking.
“But mommy’s wondering….where is my nerd gonna cum?”
His eyes go wide. Breath hitching, “Please-”
“I mean- maybe you could pull out and I could milk you onto the blanket—?” Dramatically, the other man’s lower lip quivers as a sob threatens to break through. So many rounds and he still hadn’t cum inside - you’d gotten him everywhere: on your stomach, on your tits, between your thighs, on your tongue. Everywhere but inside. “Hmmm. Nope.”
He perks up.
“How about my mouth again?”
Choso shakes his sweaty head.
“I wanted to- hngh—” It’s so tough for him to speak when he’s actively trying not to fall apart at the seams.
“Oh, what’s that?” Your eyes go wide. “Don’t feelin’ my mouth wrapped around your cock, Choso- is it?”
He shudders at the mere imagery of that. Every single thrust had him threatening to spill inside—those gossamer ribbons were flooding your entrance n’ starting to drip down your thighs. “No-”
“No?”
“No, no, no, no—I love your mouth-” He sputters. “-m-mommy…” And even though it’s already been so long, Choso was still wearing those chunky rings depicting skulls and such on- gliding them up and down your back soothingly. “I love every part of you. But I just really…really…really wanted to cum inside this time-” Peeking up at you through tear-stained lashes. “…if that’s okay with you?”
He looked so pretty, it was hard not to cave in then and there.
But you had to stand firm. “Nuh uh…I don’t know.” Tapping at your chin once more. “M’honestly a little hurt that you’d hide this emo side of yourself, Choso.” Leaning down to whisper into his ear- his silver studs glint. “Especially when emo boys with big dicks just make me sooooooo fuckin’ wet—”
Choso startles as though he’d been electrocuted. “I-if I’d known that then I would’ve told you in a heartbeat, mommy-”
“Ah, sweet-talking me now?” You wave. “What other secrets are you hiding, Mr. Kamo Choso?”
And it’d been a rhetorical question, something to make your poor boy squirm—honestly! But perhaps you should’ve expected that with Choso’s fried, pussydrunken brain he wouldn’t have caught onto the toying tone of your voice. That he would’ve blushed- and confessed.
“A-actually the only reason I joined was to get experience-” You raise a brow as you’d already known that. “-so that if- when I actually found the courage to ask someone out, then I’d be less likely to disappoint them in bed…”
Your lips quiver. “Oh, Cho.”
And then you’re wrapping your arms around Choso’s head - pushing his face deeper into your clammy tits, skin-against-skin - you’re running your fingers through his hair, soothing, as Choso keeps fuckin’ away into you.
You whisper against his clammy forehead, “Cum inside, baby.”
And he does with a broken groan—long, lengthy ribbons of cum decorating the interior of your cunt. “Th-thank you, mommy.” He whimpers. They cling onto the outer ring of your entrance- which Choso has to push inside with a flicker of his thumb. The heat floods you instantly - bursts and bubbles of warmth spreading from your core, every single time that Choso twitches with another pang of pleasure- and his cockhead bursts out in cum.
Choso might be an utter sweetheart, but his cock was not-
He thwacks! out a few more creamy wads, and when he’s finally done and shooting blanks- Choso accumulates those dollops on the tip of his cock all to smear them at the bottom of your pussy. That sweet, sweet cervix.
“C-can I tell you another secret, baby?” He sobs.
“Of course, Choso.”
“You. It’s you.”
You free him from your embrace to look at him properly.
“It’s you that I’ve been wanting to ask out.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - HE MATCHED?!
“Wait- who…?”
“The King of Curses.” Dr. Shoko responds with a straight face. Too straight. You needed her to crack a smile- you needed her to tell you that this was a joke. “At least—that’s what he calls himself, and we did have to track down his records to find out his actual name.”
Name: ITADORI (RYOMEN) SUKUNA
Age: 32
Occupation: ‘It’s complicated’.
Category: Rough n’ tough
Primary likings: ROUGH. Partners in lingerie. DP. (For a more detailed report on sexual proclivities and medical assessment, please see Page 55 onwards…)
“What does he mean by his occupation being…‘it’s complicated’?” You squint at the man’s profile.
“He wanted to put ‘King of Curses’ for that, too.” Dr. Shoko takes a long swig of her coffee. “Goodness knows I couldn’t figure that out even with a PhD. But it’s a lot more flattering than putting ‘Loitering’, isn’t it?”
“He loiters.” You ask.
“Hopefully a forgivable crime.” She nods.
And, sure, you didn’t give a shit about the loitering—what instead caught your attention was the little matchmaking measurement that was on the top of the page. Or at least supposed to be. Instead of a percentage like all your previous passes had, this time was greeted you instead was a simple note: MATCH MADE!
And underneath it was a few semi-erased notes from who you assume to be the matchmakers spelling out- ‘Thank goodness.’ ‘We thought the day would never come-’ ‘Take him off our hands, please!!’
Dr. Shoko catches you staring at them and promptly shuts your file for you. “It’s just ah- your match seems to have a bit of a…reputation here, you see?”
You ask, “A reputation? Is he some weirdo?”
“Well that’s one way of putting it…” She mutters to herself-
“What was that-”
“Nothing!” Dr. Shoko clears her throat, and smooths her mask of professionalism. “To be quite frank with you, Sukuna was one of our first clients—and we’ve been operational for quite some time now, and yet Sukuna never matched with anyone. If it wasn’t an extremely low percentage, then a match didn’t get past the interview stage- especially because Sukuna himself can be a little…intimidating. At one point we just started showing him the profiles first, expecting pass after pass.” She gives you a meaningful look. “But for the first time, it seems, the King of Curses has found himself interested.”
You don’t know how to interpret the little quirk of a smirk on her lips. “I see.” Flipping the file back open, you’re taking in those smoldering crimson eyes, that pink hair. He was handsome, that was for sure- and he sounded like such a character.
You can’t help but find yourself, perhaps, a little interested as well.
“But of course, it’s completely up to you. And I can pass this one and get some more matches lined up if-”
“Nah. No need to pass, Dr. Shoko.”
.
.
.
“Now do a little spin f’me- atta girl.”
Just about three dates - and you’d discovered that the pink-haired man honestly wasn’t too bad. A little eccentric- alright, very eccentric. He spoke in extremely old-fashioned Japanese and knew far too much about cannibalism, but other than that you thought him to be just fine. Handsome, too.
Just an hour into your romantic dinner at that one fancy French restaurant downtown. Just a glance at the nearby love hotel before you’re both huddling inside one cramped room, Sukuna tugging off his coat before he bore you with a strappy black lingerie set.
It barely covered…well, anything.
And that seemed to be just how he liked it.
Not even needing to tug those panties of yours to the side before he’s pressin’ his plump tip against your pussylips. Both so sensitive that the contact makes you hiss—and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as soon as he starts to enter. “O-ohhh-”
“Hey- hey—” Of course, it’s not long before you’re feeling one of his roughened hands come and lightly tap your cheeks. It makes you snap out of your little daze and discover that Sukuna had entered a few inches - barely halfway through - but it still felt like he was touching your deepest throat. “Ya have the King of Curses right before you and you’re not even looking at him? Tch-”
Without warning, he pummels just a little deeper. Just a tender caress of his zig-zagging veins along your wet channel-
“C’mon, woman—” Sukuna grumbles. “Literally what could be so interesting inside the back of yer skull? Look at me- look at how well m’fucking you.”
“S-so good…” You’re blabbering out, as soon as your senses are returning. Because the stark sensation of Sukuna streaking your insides was mind-numbing - you don’t think you’ve ever taken anyone this big before.
“Never?” Fuck- you said that out loud?! His smirk makes your heart race- honed canines all on display. “Well buck up, brat.” He taps the side of your hips - and too late does it register as a signal to fuck your hips back down onto his pummeling ones. Funneling your cunt so fucking tight with all his inches. “Because if it takes you this long ta take me regularly, then we might just be here all night trying to get you to take…heh-”
The hairs on your body raise.
You bite down on your lower lip. “Your…second one?”
Sukuna chuckles. “No.” Reaching upwards - not caring if it’s making your hamstrings scream so deliciously at the stretch - Sukuna leans his sticky forehead against yours n’ kisses your lips. Tongue and all. He finally whispers as he parts, “It’ll be yours.”
And just a few more thrusts, a few more whack-whack-whacks! of his thickened cock reaching your deepest depths possible. He was just so big and his thrusts were just so vicious—you’re floating through a haze of pleasure when you feel it…that cold press of silicone against your precious orifice.
You’re jerking up with a yelp. “Shit- hngh, you’re putting it in now?”
“Hah? Duh.” Sukuna scoffs. “Why? Unless you don’t wish to-”
“I’m just wondering what took you so long.”
Sukuna seems stunned for one second- two. Before the King quickly snaps out of it to pleasure the sopping line of your cunt with his silicone dildo—“Dirty girl.”
Because what’d intrigued you the most on his profile was one thing: double penetration. And Ryomen Sukuna took it seriously—he’d slathered that impressive size - molded after himself, he’d told you - with a passion fruit-scented lube before starting to crown it at your entrance. The very same pussy he was stuffed in, too.
His cock throbs away wildly inside you as Sukuna squeezes- and squeezes. And you wince at the mixture of pain and pleasure - that utterly wiiiiiild stretch making your mind dazed. “Keep going.” You beg. “P-please- keep going, Kuna—”
“Kuna?” You can’t tell if he’s feigning outrage or he’s serious. He tugs your body into his- using one of your lingerie straps. “How ridiculous- fuck, and just for that- don’t expect me to go easy on ya, brat.”
And then it’s both. At the same time.
He started off nicely—surprisingly. He started off just shuffling his thick, throbbing cock behind and stuffing the orifice of your cunt with the purple-colored dildo. He started off so-
And then you’d gotten just a tad too mouthy and Sukuna’s letting the globular, slick-glazed edge of the dildo rover all over - aaaaaall around the first ring of your entrance, and then smearing apart your channel to search for your sweet spots inside. Competing - fucking competing - with his own cock to massage your spots the best. It takes one hand clawed onto your hip n’ pinning you down with all his weight to actually squirm the dildo inside you.
Shivers run down Sukuna’s spine as he feels his sensitive shaft rub against the firm silicone. Uuuuuuup rubbin’ his skin against the material. And down. Uuuuup and down. Uuuuup and down.
Fucking you twice over.
Such looooong and lecherous slides of your overstuffed pussy- “Look at her go.” The King drags you back using a strappy ribbon from your lingerie, glances down and snickers. “She’s just so hungry, huh?”
“C-can feel you all the way in my throat.” You whimper.
“That’s nothing, wait till you feel me in your cervix.”
And he’s bottoming out. Twice.
“Fuck, how I’m glad you found me.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - INFINITY% MATCH?!
Dr. Ieiri Shoko sits before you in her office, and she looks as though she wished she was doing anything but.
Now, you’re sure this wasn’t anything personal - after all, you’ve met with Dr. Shoko for numerous appointments prior, and each time she’d been cordial if not nice. You’ve filled out all your forms. You haven’t been late to an appointment. You made sure during each appointment to be open-minded and thoughtful about your potential matches.
So…what?
What could have happened in the thirty-six hours between your last appointment (six passes that day) and the sudden frantic phone call you’d gotten this morning regarding the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT? You’d rushed over - still half-asleep and attempting to tug on your pants - as soon as you could, sure that perhaps today would be the day you find your perfect match and-
“Ehem- today is the day you’ll be looking over your perfect match.” Ah- what? Still jolted by Dr. Shoko’s sudden change in demeanor, it takes a second for the excitement to hit you.
You gasp. “Seriously? A perfect match?”
“Well…perfect would be overselling it…” She mutters to herself- and then catches your look of confusion. “Ah- mathematically and scientifically, the numbers are perfect of course. A 99.99% match.”
“Then, what seems to be…”
“It just seems that your match is a little-” Dr. Shoko waves her hands in the air, searching for the word.
“Eccentric?”
“No.”
“Odd?”
“No.”
“Crazy.”
“Almost.” She sighs, looking far more exhausted than the last time you saw her. Far more exhausted. The bluish splotches beneath her eyes crinkle as she grimaces, “Apologies. I’m not that good at describing Lovecraftian monsters.”
You chuckle- before you realize. “Wait, what?”
“But—onto the profiles, we don’t have all day and I have about thirty more appointments.” She shoots you a look. “And none of them above 60%, I fear.” Then turning towards her second door - the one connecting her office to one of the building’s laboratories - she calls. “You can come out now!”
The door clicks open immediately- as if whoever was on the other side had been waiting impatiently to be called, fidgeting, hand already on the door handle.
And in walks a tall, white-haired man—although he couldn’t have been more than thirty or so, wearing a sterile white scientist’s coat and thin-rimmed glasses. There were a few Digimon stickers on his shoes, and his name tag read: PROF. GOJO SATORU.
He was cute- you had to give him that.
Dr. Shoko takes one look at your face and sighs.
You’re immediately straightening up. “E-erm, hello.” And the man bows rapidly- sputtering out greetings and introductions a mile a minute, that you don’t even catch them. “Ah…I believe you have my match profile?”
The other woman smacks her forehead. “He is your match profile.”
You gape. “What?”
Gojo practically beams- fuck, he really was too cute. He immediately reaches over and grasps your hand—then unabashedly kisses the back of it. Such a loud mwah! “Your pleasure to meet me, sweetheart.”
From the corner of your vision, you see Dr. Shoko download a resignation letter template. “Please…you’re all he’s been talking about for the past two days-”
“Like a true romantic~” Gojo trills.
“-pass on him and put us all out of our misery…please. I beg of you.”
You look at the miserable Shoko- and then you look at Gojo.
.
.
.
“So…” Gojo’s breath sticks to the side of your neck, utterly syrupy, and his cock sticks to the goopy insides of your cunt.
They wouldn’t have been able to pull him out with a wrench, he can tell you that much-
Because you were swallowing him up whole—little mewls leaving the gap between your lips, little dribbles of slick going down the corners of your mouth - ones he’s nearing towards and licking right off your face. Gojo’s chunky glasses crush against the side of your temple. His fingers dig deeper into your soft flesh. “-it seems I have fallen victim to my own creation.”
Gojo Satoru had you pushed against his clinical desk; it’d been long since Dr. Shoko had wrapped-up your first meeting (and gone to take a lay-down on her examination bed). Meanwhile Gojo had valiantly volunteered to give you ‘an insightful and educational’ tour around the laboratories.
The first place he took you to was his private office.
…The first place he took you to, neither of you could keep your hands off each other.
“Th-the program?” You’re babbling. Your hands grasp the edge of his desk- a plumage of documents soar upwards as you’re struggling and failing a few times- he was just fucking you so good. “How are you falling victim—”
“Because when I wanted to figure out a way to lose my virginity, I didn’t expect it to be this good—!” Gojo bursts out in confession. And you’re feeling the full impact of his statement- and the rough slam of his cockhead against the back of your pussy.
“S-so this was all…” Your mouth gapes - and you’re not quite sure whether it was because of the sudden confession, or the increasing force of his hips. “-a scheme to pop your cherry?!”
“Erm, actually- I wouldn’t say scheme—” Gojo huffs. Those thick-framed glasses of his kept sliding down his nose due to the force of his thrusts, and he was smearing his pretty face against your shoulder to keep pushing it up. “I am- was a virgin, heh…”
He takes a glance down at where the two of you were sloppily connected - those swollen folds of yours spread so wiiiiiide open around his long cock - and instantly, he’s hypnotized.
For a beat.
Two.
“—Satoru.” Honestly- you have to give him a good clench to snap him back to his senses. Otherwise you’re sure he would’ve kept funneling you full of his cock until one or both of your bodies gave out—he just seemed addicted. Tingling with desire. He wanted you. He needed you.
Every single second he was reeling his hips back- Gojo was angry just until he could rover his thickened inches back inside n’ bash your very cervix. Again. And again. And again and again.
And Gojo’s pushing his glasses up with a huff. “What if I was having a telepathic conversation with your pussy?”
You gape. “Shoko’s right, you’re crazy-”
“Yeah yeah-” He sighs as if he’s heard that one before. Many, many times. With a roll of those blue eyes, Gojo keeps explaining - not slowing down for a single split-second. “I was a virgin with too much time between my extra credits and three honors degrees, okay? So instead of being a lunatic and going out to actually meet people, I did what any sane person would do…”
“Create the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT-”
“I created the BIG BANG THEORY PROJECT!” It was almost…cute just how passionate he was getting. And it certainly helped that the more excited he got, the more his twitchin’ tip splurged out precum. Flinching it into all sorts of little hidden spots inside you—“A cutting-edge matchmaking system that pairs partners’ sexual proclivities-”
He leans against you- and it feels like a furnace, in the best way. Gojo’s blushing cheek against yours. Gojo’s aching cock against your cunt.
He’s scouring the silken depths of your cunt and ramming into that one spot- “The Gräfenberg spot.” Gojo titters to himself. “Erm- I did my reading…” By now he wasn’t even pulling his hips off of yours- glued to those stinging ass cheeks of yours, he’s plasterin’ every nook inside you with his precum. “And the fact that we’re a near-100% match must mean one thing—”
Gojo cums from pure excitement.
He cums from pure excitement. White-hot pouring into the depths of your cunt, slathering it in an oily layer of his cum.
You almost don’t dare to ask. “And wh-what does that mean?”
“That next I must make a pregnancy program!”
Too caught up in the moment; the two of you don’t register the light buzz of your phone.
A text from Shoko.
A/N. IDK why working on their profiles was so unserious shsdhsd-
Synopsis. Do you want to change the world? Do you see those poor, endangered hybrids and wish you could do something to help them? Join us now at www.HYBRIDBR33DINGPROGRAM,69 to help your hot local hybrids put a baby in you!
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, hybrids AU, pheromones, knots, bréeding, FÉRAL JJK men, matíng presses, fuII neIsons, fíngering, spítting, p talking, p sIapping, chokíng, HEADLOCKS, aIpha!Toji, manhandIing, making it fit, creampíes, marathons, Iactation (Sukuna), mates, dúmbifícatíon, cúmfIation, cúmpIay, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Tony’s backkkk with delicious things piled up for you babygirls heheh-
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Wolf
“So now I have to warn you-” You’re turning your head towards the primly-dressed lady that was leading you through the maze of corridors.
She’d been the first to meet with you after weeks of interviews and medical exams and waiting around the telephone ever since you’d entered…the program. Your match-maker, almost. With an appointment finally set up, you made your way through the official-looking building.
Listening to her intently as she debriefed you on the hybrid you’d been set up with. “-the hybrid we have paired you with, according to your sheet and your scent vials, is a wolf hybrid.” She looks at you closely, “An alpha wolf hybrid.”
Your heart races, “Oh.”
“And as you may know, alpha wolves are quite known for their…intense…ruts.” The two of you stopped before a tall door, it almost looked like a hotel entrance. “But the thing is- with this speciman, Toji, you’re the first one he’s ever accepted during his rut.”
“Oh.”
She rattles off something about how your scent was the only one he’s ever reacted to, how ever since then he’d been dying to meet you. Thrown into the throes of his rut all over again, practically. Clawing at the walls. Restless.
And before you know it, the door is opening and you’re being ushered inside. Left alone. With him.
Toji’s feverish body is on you immediately.
He’s gasping you in. Gnawing on your neck. Pressing his hips against yours like he was trying to meld your two bodies together—
“Oh, pretty doll…” The straight line of his nose drag-drag-draaaags down the side of your scent glands, huffin’ in your sweetened scent. “Pretty, pretty doll.” Breath hitching, Toji pins you harder against the wall and you feel something so long and rock-fucking-hard crush up against your front. “Do you have any fucking idea how long I’ve been waitin’ for ya? I could smell you the second you stepped in the building- fuck, damn near broke down these walls to find ya myself.”
“O-oh.” Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull as you get an impression of his sheer size. Tall. Hulking. He really was a wolf hybrid through and through, tail swishing impatiently behind him. “You’re so…big.”
So swollen with need that the mere feeling of your warm body made him twitch.
And the thing is- he could smell your cute cunt getting wetter. Guttural voice whispering against your ear, “And you’re not walking outta here until you take every single inch.”
In just a few split-seconds, you’re on the bed by the corner of the room. You’re on all fours. You’re being pushed down by one of his clawed hands knobbled on top of your scalp, manhandling you.
His giddy weight hovers over you, rasping to himself. “Won’t be- hah, walking outta here at all, actually.” His abs plaster against your back as he leans over to kiss down the line of your spine. “Gonna- fuck, make you forget how to walk.” Smooch after sultry smooch. Open-mouthed. “Gonna hafta fuckin’ carry you outta here- oh, m’gonna ruin you, mama.”
You’re squealing at the top of your lungs when his fingers slither down to tear off your sticky panties. Weavin’ the fabric between his digits, he brings it up to his flared nostrils and sniffs.
A great, big whiff that makes Toji’s scarred mouth drop into a soft ‘oh.’
“F-fuck-” He’s wrenching out a primal grunt, just catching sight of your glistening hole. “Oh my-”
Cutting himself off by spitting down onto your wettened pussy, the line of saliva smacks against your slit and drips down in a puddle.
And he wasn’t just spitting from behind - Toji was drooling. A thin line of it trickling down the side of his curved lips as he immediately spreads your sheeny thighs, immediately ruts against the folds of your cunt.
Immediately let his thick, globular tip start swipin’ his way inside your pussy.
“Oh-oh my god…” Toji’s head falls once he starts easing inside, husky baritone breaking mid-sentence. And your toes curl at the incredible feeling of his plump, puckered tip squeezing all inside your snug entrance. Shoving inside. Bullying inside. You clench and you think he damn near shivers- “Wait o-ohhhh, go easy on me, lil’ omega.”
“Omega?” You’re questioning, “You can tell?”
“Oh fuck, I don’t even know right now, doll- just hold on- let me…” The gluey surroundings of your cunt were just sucking him up. Swallowing. Each heavy inch being slid inside—and Toji wasn’t just thrusting, he was rutting.
Just to fit inside. Just to feel more n’ more of your velvety walls sucking him up - you swear you can feel the exact moment the line of his swollen tip grazes your g-spot and Toji himself breaks.
“Oh my god- fuck, oh my god, it can feel this good?” His stern lips wobble, that sleazy smile from before nowhere to be seen now. And there’s a slight tinge of madness in his voice, one that makes his gruff tone pitch higher.
And suddenly you’re being reminded that this was the first ever time that he’s spent his rut with anyone.
He was just so sensitive. “No- no, that should be fuckin’ illegal.” Toji grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back into his vein-covered cock. “It can’t be- it c-can’t—”
Letting your drippin’ wet pussy sloppily sluuuuurp back into his long, long length. Toji has the audacity to swipe the pair of panties in his hands down where your syrupy wetness was smearing. Drenching it just a lil’.
Before bringing it back up to his nose and sniffing, hazy peripherals rolling to the back of his head. He spreads apart his meat thighs even further and moans out as he pushes. “Who the fuck let you hold out on me for this long, huh?”
He was going crazy. He was drilling into you like a madman.
Again and again and again.
Not even waiting for you to adjust. Not even faltering. Heavy, half-thrusts to open up every drivelling orifice inside your cunt. To pinpoint even your tiniest hidden spots with his strawberry-red divot- fuck, it was almost like he was out of control.
So was this what it felt like to be…pussydrunk?
Toji feels you slipping away with the recoil of his jackhammers and he uses his inhuman strength to jerk you back up to him.
You’re choking out, “I wasn’t- fuck.” You’re grabbing ahold of the silken sheets, bucking your hips stupidly into his. The lewdest squelches ring out every time you do, synchronizing with your own sinful noises. “S’not my fault.”
“Then whose is it, hm?”
He moves his left hand over to spank the side of your ass cheeks, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth lolls open stupidly upon impact and he bends over to spit straight into his wide-open target.
“Tell me- hah, tell me, little omega.” He’s tightening his hold on your throat and you yelp. Absolutely useless against the way his vein-covered girth stretches out your every nook n’ cranny, his rose-colored tip was pushing even deeper into your gooey insides. “Who let you hold out on me? Who said this pretty pussy could f-feel so good? Where the fuck have- you- been- all my life?”
“I don’t- ngh, could’ve found me sooner- ngh, then.” You’re biting back, your mind dizzy with all these questions and his thrusts. And oh, he liked that.
Having you talk back to him like that - it only made his thick length swell up even further, making your pussy let out such a carnal squelch once he finally, finally pistons towards the back of your cervix.
Slick and tight.
The probin’ push of his mushroomy tip drives deep, like he was trying to burrow into your very lungs. His globular end is driven in, in, in—all round n’ achingly hard, filling you out from the inside so much that you swear you could see stars.
Fuck, he’s gnawing down on the edge of his bottom lip and staring. Taking hefty gulps of the pheromones you were letting out each time his creamy cock pistoled back in.
“Mmm, you’re right.” Toji snickers. And he gives the wobblin’ side of your ass cheek yet another mean swat, leaving it there for a few seconds to grope you. “You’re s-soooo fuckin’ right, mama. Always are, hm?” Oh, he was thoroughly pussydrunk - to have such a big, proud alpha admit defeat? Fuck, he might just kneel at your feet next.
You’re whimpering once his thumb reaches over to swipe down your treacly slit, pressing down on your clit. “Oh yeah? M’right after I manage to- hck! take it all?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say all…” Wouldn’t say all? In shock, you swivel your head around and catch Toji’s filthy, filthy grin. The way he was looking down at where the two of you were connected with half-lidded eyes. “There’s just a-” The hybrid crushes his toned v-line against you. “-little more.”
And that’s when you feel it.
That’s when you realize it: with Toji being a wolf hybrid, his prolonged length won’t be the only thing you have to take. You forgot about the plump, thickened knot at the base of his cock - pulsing wildly away where he kissed your pussylips with it.
Toji growls, “You’re not walkin’ outta here without carrying my pups, mama.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Jaguar
“Are you alright, my love?” The blond-haired man hushes out from above you just as soon as his thick, reddened tip manages to bulge against your cervix. Manages to bottom out. Hot and sultry. Just drippin’ with fresh wads of precum and need.
He’s running his thumb down the side of your temple, tenderly wiping away a few trickles of sweat. “Breathe in– breath- atta girl. This pretty pussy of yours feeling, mmm, alright?”
Your hips buck with a whimper once he grazes his roverin’ fingertips down your swollen slit. Teasing rolling over your sensitive clit so you’ll make those pretty, pretty noises for him once more. “Yes- hck! fuck fuck fuck, yes, Kento. You can keep moving now…”
“O-oh.” His handsome maw drops. And something in him seems to shake at the very notion. Something in him seems to crack. You watch as Nanami’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs, his throat parched. “Keep moving, darling?”
“Mhm—” You’re nodding, brows furrowing. “That is the whole point of the program, after all- isn’t it?”
NAME: NANAMI KENTO
AGE: 27
OCCUPATION: OFFICE WORKER
HYBRID TYPE: PANTHERA ONCA
You’d read his profile multiple times. You could tell from the very second you’d been escorted inside this tidy bedroom that Nanami Kento was the predatory type. The type that could break you in half. The type that could leave you without the ability to walk for weeks at a time without even trying - and yet, he was treating you like glass.
So gently.
Nanami had spent hours overstimulating your poor, bawlin’ pussy before you’d even started taking his incredible size. Spent hours tugging n’ prying apart your delicate pussylips just so that he could fit each solid inch.
His girth was so massive that the mere feeling of him bullying inside your gooey channel, molding you to him, made your toes curl.
Your nails clawing down the expanse of his broad back as you pull him even closer to you, “C’mon Kento.” You jut out your lips into a pout, and he shivers at the sight. You’re just so sensitive. So needy that you could cry. “Don’t you wanna, ngh, breed- oh fuck!”
He’s shutting you up.
He’s roughly pulling back his powerful hips to strike the ends of your pussy with a great, heaving thud! Coating your cervix with a few stringy wads of pre, his curly blond hairs tickling your clit.
Anything. Everything just to get you to—
“Sh-shut up—” Nanami unhinges his sharp jaw just to puff out, his clouded breath hitting your face. And then he’s gasping, then he’s realizing what he’s just said and fighting back a groan.
Slowing down the ravenous cadence of his hips to something slow n’ sensual. Nanami cups your cheek, biting down on his wobbly lower lip. “F-forgive me.” He begs, “I spoke out of turn- I- hngh, acted out of turn.” He’d just gone out of control.
The thought makes you wetter - and Nanami’s nose crinkles at the sweetness as he can smell it. “But m’not complaining, y’know?” You’re insisting, arching your hips up into his. It was just so cute that he was so considerate, but you wanted something…rough. “I wouldn’t mind if you-”
“Don’t.” He cuts you off. And you’re suddenly getting punished by a thorough few probes of his circular, wet tip against the roof of your pussy. “Don’t talk out of this pretty pussy, darling. You don’t know what m’capable of-”
“I do.” Batting your teary lashes, “I read all your profiles—promise! Did my own research, too. I just want you to- hngh, use me, Kento.”
Something in him looks like it had just snapped.
He whispers - barely even audible to you. “U-use…”
And you’re nodding furiously, slidin’ away your plush walls to meet his every thrust. Now, Nanami’s tempo had grown slightly harder, slightly out of time—slightly like his restraint on himself was slowly slipping away. So you let out the finishing blow - “Wan’ you to use me as your hngh! cumdump, please?”
Fuck, you’d even added manners.
Nanami Kento was gone.
Nanami Kento was ruined.
Nanami Kento was throwing your legs over his muscular shoulders in a second - fuck missionary, he was putting you in a damn mating press. Snapping his hips down until your capped knees hit your tits, and his globular cocktip scrapes your womb.
So hard that you swear he’s leaving nail marks on your skin, your hamstrings stretching like never before, a few of your joints popping!
With a few slurping sounds, he’s fucking his girth into with thud after thud after thud. Looong, rapid thrusts that leave you with your mouth comically ajar, spit drivelling out pathetically. Puddling. “Yes-” You whine, white-hot pleasure running through you. “Yes yes yes- just like this, Ken, ngh-”
“Ah ah-” And suddenly, one of his firm hands finds its way ‘round your throat. Blocking off your airway, “Shut up and fucking take it since you wanted to so bad.”
You’re whimpering- “But it feels so- oh.”
Only for Nanami to lunge over and sink his lengthy canines against the side of your throat, “What did I say?” He murmurs, the vibrato of his bass making your skin tremble. A stern tone. “Cumdumps don’t talk.”
Fuck.
Again and again.
You press your lips together, trying to hold back all the broken crackles and pleas that threatened to break through each time Nanami was pummeling away his massive length. Red-hot. Ravenous. He throbbed all the way near the clingy bottom of your pussy, drenching it in so many webs of his sap.
Flooding each tight orifice inside you, forming your heart-shaped cunt around him- and then barely even letting you squirm after each recoil of his thrusts. Barely letting you bounce away.
Weighing down on you. Glissading his abs. Every time you moved, he’d tighten his arm on your throat and drag you back.
Another one of his strong hands slides down your front - he’d been tenderly massaging your core before. Now the hybrid only pushed down where he could feel his thick cylindrical length probin’ through, feeling for himself as he fucked you.
“Oh, yes. Remember what you hah- asked for, my love- fuck, I mean…” Harder. Firmer. Nanami was pinpointing your every sweet spot with wads of precum so rudely, “-my pretty, pretty cumdump.”
You’re shrilling as he leans in with a purr to nuzzle your throat, one of his wild slams slaps your cervix so hard that you think your eyes pop out of your skull. “I-ngh, keep going like that and I’ll-” Forgetting that you weren’t supposed to speak - and if you couldn’t listen to him, he’d make you silent.
He’s spitting straight between your jabbering lips, swiping away the purposeful splatter on the edge of your lips. “Cumdumps cum quietly.”
And you’re so far gone that you aren’t just cumming with a few more vulgar strokes - you’re splashin’ out and squirting. Soaking splosh after splosh of your miry high, it sticks to his tannish skin and creates a tiny pool between your bodies.
Nanami was pistoning away oh-so-frenzily, and he expected to hold you down so that you could stay. So that you could take it.
Each n’ every one of your peaks being pounded through by his rovering cock.
Your pupils swirl maddeningly, body shaking with the twitches of your orgasm. “Mmm, didn’t know cumdumps could squirt, too.” He snickers rudely as you see stars, your vision shattered. And before you know it, he’s emptying out a few droplets of precum into your womb - you swear his twitching knot at his base only grew fatter. Oh, he was just getting started.
“Wh-what do you mean?” You’re whining up at him, with wide eyes—shit, did he say that out loud?
Nanami smiles a sleazy smile, his long canines peaking out. “M’cumdump needs to be full of cum now, doesn’t she?”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Sssnake
The slithering slurps were just lecherous.
Each time after Geto slid his flexible fingers in and out of your folds, tapping the slick-glazed tips against your inner thighs. “Hmmm…that should do it. Don’t you think, gorgeous~?”
“Sh-shit-” And for just how calm, cool, n’ collected he was - you were practically shattered. Feeling the sparks of your high escape right under your nose, Geto had edged you for about the fifth time tonight. Ruthlessly. You clamor to hold onto his wrist, “You’re so mean, Sugu- fuck-”
“Oh, so you don’t want my cock?” His dark brows furrow, faux-pouting. And oh, you damn near shed a few tears at the way he’s dragging his puckered cockhead between your folds, before pulling away—“Alright, guess I can give this pretty pussy just my fingers then-”
“N-nooo—” You sob out, “Please-”
“Ssso you don’t want my fingers either, huh?” Pretending to gasp, pretending to drive you to the end of your sanity (he actually was). “Well then I can just go and tell the organizer that you’d rather have another hybrid- f-fuck.”
You’re not even thinking twice - you’re not even hesitating before you suddenly press against Geto’s toned body. Pinning him down. Straddling his naturally chiselled hips and letting your ready cunt siiiink down his fat cock.
Oh.
He was just so thick, n’ covered in so many winding veins that tickled your sensitive insides. Extra. “Oh my god- I m-meant that I want your, ngh, cock in me.” You’re blurting out, your head throwing back dazedly. “Want you all up inside- ngh.”
“Oho?” And serpentine hybrids weren’t just sly - you’re coming to find out that they knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to use their numerous snaking tendrils.
Before you know it, Geto drags his gigantic tail around your waist to pin you down to his pelvis. Human for most of his body, but his true form did peak out during times like this. “Sss’that so?” He’s humming out, grin widening. “So is it my mating season or is it yours, gorgeous?”
“Y-yours–” You mewl out, stubbornly. After all it had been you that was specifically assigned to the massive boa constrictor to help him through his season of need. His heat.
His time of year that makes him all but whimper the very instant Geto’s slick cock starts fucking in and out of you. In smooth, long thrusts - there’s so much power behind his actions that the front of your pussylips start to bruise already.
Geto’s brows furrowing as he hisses between his fangs, “Mhm, then why don’tcha act like it, hmmm–?” Hitting your g-spot dead-on, your hips move restlessly and his tail pins you down immediately. “Drippin’ so much, sucking me up like such a ssssslut.”
He’s smiling oh-so-meanly as he pokes and probes you every hidden spot. Not just your g-spot, it’s like he’s somehow mazing his vein-decorated cock everywhere. Anywhere.
Again and again.
His slimy, curved tip sticks against the edge of your cervix and makes you whine.
“Take me so well like this n’ I might just give you my second cock, gorgeous.”
Your eyes snap open, “S-second?” And without another second of hesitation, you tilt your head down and- oh, lo and behold, there was a line along the middle of Geto’s happy trail. Right where his rock-hard erection was, a second length was starting to perk upright. Two.
Two needy shafts that filthily kissed your hole, the more you’re bouncing atop him- the closer his weeping cockhead gets. Anticipating. Eager.
“Mhm, didn’t you know?” Geto tuts, “Serpentine hybrids tend to have double the cocks-” And suddenly, he’s swipin’ aside your puffy folds to take a gooood, long look at your clamping hole. “-double what this sssslutty pussy wants. And if you’re good- heh, I’ll give it.”
“I’ve been so good.” You beg, your hand reaching for his double shafts- only for Geto to slap it away.
“I just gave you my first and now you want my second?” He rolls his dazed amethyst eyes, “Try riding this one ngh, proper and we’ll see about-” Oh, he doesn’t even have to finish his damn sentence to have you gyratin’ your hips wildly.
With your sultry figure-eights swerving and swerving.
Faster. Harder. You arch your spine into the perfect curvature and let his textured length stir against your cute pussy. Filling out your every nook n’ cranny—“I am, see-” Spit splashes down your chin, and Geto’s forked tongue comes out to lap at it. “T-taking it- ngh, they paired me with you so that means I must be able to take a second-”
“‘Must’, hmm–?” It was just so fun to tease you. To slow his bucking hips down and watch as your trembling, needy body ruts down animalistically to chase his globed tip. “And so that means-”
“Yes-”
“-that you must take my kids, riiight?” He narrowed his greedy gaze, and you’re struck with the sudden thought - oh, mating season. Geto was going to fuck you pregnant.
He was already pounding upwards like he aimed for it. Already shoved the fat crown of his shaft to poke your womb, so hard that you’re sure to feel that soft flesh bruise. Thudding. “That you’re gonna- mmm, let me cum inside you with both my big, fat cocks.” You feel a hot splash against your outer pussy, and realize that he’s holding his matching length with one hand. Angled straight towards your entrance- “Let me fill you up until you can’t even remember your name—”
“O-oh my god-” Your pupils swirl in the whites of your eyes, feeling the circle of your cunt get stretched out maddeningly. Like elastic, he was probin’ away his honed cocktip inside. “Yes- wan’ it please, Suguru-”
“Actually-” As he slightly stalls his cadence, “-can you even remember your name? Right now?”
You don’t even care at this point. Don’t know anything but the way he was filling out your geysering orifice with such wet slurps, “I don’t know I don’t know- just want it-”
“So you can’t even remember your name?” Seething, voice pitched even higher. There was a sort of crazed glimmer in Geto’s peripherals when he realized the effect his double cocks had on your poor body. Your poor self. “C-can’t believe- hah! You seriously don’t fuckin’ remember your own name? My cocks have that much of an effect on you, hm?”
Push after push. Now he’s a solid few inches inside your velvety cunt and you think you might just cum from the sheer stretch of him. The way he was holding you down- one hand plastered on top of your sweaty scalp now.
Geto’s using his strength to force down his swollen shafts, his zig-zagged veins pliably letting him slither his way in-
“S’okay, gorgeous.” He’s finishing off once his matching tips bottom out with two matching thwacks! All the way opening up your womb- “You don’t need any other name- hah, there’s only one you need.”
“And wh-what is that—?” You shiver once his pointed fangs trace your skin, scorched breath panting out.
“My mate.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bunny!
“P-please, I’ll be good…” Choso’s broken whimpers grace your eardrums like the prettiest song, and he’s also letting off such lewd slurps any time he tap-tap-taps his red, swollen cockhead against the front of your pussy.
So loud. So filthy. The twitchy hybrid smears aside the drops of cum that were on top of your folds, like some white glaze.
His half-lidded eyes look down at the mess he was making and he groans, feeling his mouth start to salivate at the sight. “Mmm, so delicious, baby.” Before you can respond - before you can even think - Choso has the audacity to swipe his fat thumb down your slit and dab on a bit of sap for him to suck. “Won’t you let me- hah, fill this cunt up all over again? Please?”
And oh, you’d heard of the incredible prolonged stamina that bunny rabbit hybrids have - you just didn’t expect it to be like this.
Because it’d been hours since you were led into this very room by the organizer lady. Hours since you’d first met the hybrid you were paired up with, and had him cream his poor pants simply by his first kiss with you.
Hour since he’d first begged to put his cute, flinchin’ cock inside and fucked you like he never ever wanted to pull out.
Still rutting into you like such an animal- the slightest half-thrusts that leaves him whimpering. “P-please?” Choso whines, his handsome cheek staining with a line of tears. “Do you need me to beg on my knees again, baby?”
Your breath hitches, “I’m just wondering whether you aren’t- hah, tired yet, Cho? I’m sure it’s already ahem- taken, so to speak.”
“Oh, but we won’t know for sure now- will we?” And of course you wanted him more. Of course you still teased him. Watching his doey, brown eyes tear up, long ears flopping. “And m’not dead yet so- don’t worry, no matter how many times I cum, my cock is always- ngh, hard for you, baby.”
And he meant it.
He was slightly pulling out of your geysering hole - fuck, it almost killed him to - rutting and humping into your wettest depths wildly. He wanted to get you pregnant badly.
And as soon as you’re nodding needily for him to go on- Choso immediately perks his toned hips back n’ plunges inside your cunt once more. His ruby-red cocktip swipes aside your dewy walls, and as soon as his hulking size swivels inside, Choso groans.
He gasps.
He throws his head back and can’t stop himself from fucking cumming all over again, just from feeling your cutely heart-shaped walls.
You squeal as you feel his hot syrup fill you out from the inside, sploshin’ against all the other wads of cum he’d left over hours prior. “Sh-shit—” You’re clawing down his pale back, sure that it was ravaged with so many lines of red by now. “See? What did I tell you, Cho-”
“And what did I tell you?” He whimpers out, tears beading in his widely-opened eyes. “No matter how- haaaaah, many times- I- cum-”
Each one of his words was punctuated by a rugged thrust. Not only was he fucking in his treacly wads of seed inside, he was also draaaagging every ridge n’ line of his shaft along your sweetest spots. Leaning in close so that he can nibble on the underside of your jaw. Whispering. “-I’ll always be hard for you, baby.”
“O-oh my god—” Your eyes sprint all the way to the back of your skull - because Choso was fast. A rapidly slamming tempo that left his own pelvis all red. Nails digging deeper. “Shit, it feels so—Cho, are you crying?”
He’s blinking back his tears. “Fuck-” So overstimulated. So rubbed raw on the channel of your cunt that he found himself hatching out sobs at the back of his throat. “I didn’t, ngh, realize…I am.”
It’s only then that Choso’s fully registering himself.
The way his back was bleeding with how hard you were latching onto him. The way he could barely focus his dilated eyes. The way that every time he harshly pistoned his cock into you, Choso’s entire body twitched with something primal.
Your pussy was so good that it’d overstimulated him to tears.
You gasp as you notice the state he was in - and he only swabs his plumpened, red tip even harder. “I don’t mind, baby, m’just a little- n-ngh, sensitive right now.” Choso reassures, and you move your hand down from his muscular back to his waist. “Promise I can still fuck you all- oh.”
Only for your trembling fingertips to graze - just graze - his fluffy bunny tail. And oh- if you thought he was sensitive before, then Choso was so sensitive there that he damn near whimpers.
“D-don’t touch me like that~” He’s whining from the back of his throat, core tensing and flexing each time he drilled forwards. Faster. Filthier. “Don’t blame me if it makes me go even harder, okay, baby?”
“Well, m’not to blame. You’re the one that insisted.” You’re biting back.
And a dopey grin spreads across his face, “I did.” It was almost like he was reminiscing just moments prior. Chasing the softness of your pussy, he veers forwards and thumps your cervix loudly. “H-heh, n’ I think I’m gonna…oh…cum again.”
“A-again?” You gasp - you just felt so damn full. Stuffed all the way to the brim, glittery wads of cum spill out of you every time he’s thrusting in. And yet- fuck, and yet Choso still wasn’t done.
Still wasn’t letting up. Still wasn’t slowing down once he leans down to kiss your puffy lips. Your own high was nothing more than a few tingles, driving you half-mad with pleasure when you feel his glissading tip pulse against your cervix. “Did you just- oh, cream ‘round my cock?” He shallowly breathes, “Again?”
You can only nod and nod.
And Choso can only crinkle his nose in bliss, his entire body shaking viscerally when the mere notion throws him over the edge once more.
“O-oh.” He pants out, “Gonna blame me for, ngh, cumming so much when s’your fault.” Before you know it, you feel scorched wetness flood your cunt once more. It’s all sticky, gluing your pussylips together with his ivory sap.
And Choso fucking beams as he watches the glaze of it seep out of you and drench his dark happy trail. Creating a puddle of wetness that he swipes his hand down, lovingly.
Before reaching up and pressing on the cum-inflated bulge he was fucking into your tummy.
“Please give me a baby, baby–?”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BULL
You’re stopped in your tracks just before you can open the door.
That official-looking lady who’d accompanied you now held onto your hand, her expression of slight concern breaking the cool façade you’d been met with ever since you entered the program. She says, “I must make sure you know- you only need to give us a call, and we’ll be here in a second.”
“Yes?” You question her sudden worry.
“Oh, it’s just that-” She looks over your shoulder, as if trying to make sure that whoever was inside (the hybrid you’d been assigned to, Sukuna, you heard) couldn’t hear. “-we’ve had many candidates get paired with this particular hybrid, and all of them had broken off the pair before a match could be made. It seems he really needs help - he’s desperate with his rut.”
You’re furrowing your brows, “How come?”
She shuffles uncomfortably in front of you. “See- it’s just that this speciman seems to be a little…big.”
“Oh.”
“And rough.”
“Oh.”
“And he has certain attributes that often put him a step above other hybrids- especially ones in rut.” She explains to you, and your hand trembles on the door handle. “So, just letting you know-”
THUD-THUD-THUD!
It sounded like a storm. Like a whirlwind. Like something just broke down the polished, mahogany door in front of you - and left you dwarfed next to the towering bull hybrid you’d been paired up with. You don’t know what type he was; but he was over eight feet tall, pink hair, covered in swirlin’ black tattoos, with a massive bulge in his thin, off-white trousers.
Oh, he was in rut alright.
You look behind you- only to find that your escort had already disappeared.
And before you could register a single thing more, the hybrid- Sukuna has one of his four hands wrapped around your wrist. Tugging you inside the room. Manhandling.
All but tearing into your flimsy skirt- “Fuck.” He spits, between his clenched canines - you notice with a jolt that he had a piercing through his septum. It glimmers in the dim lighting as he huffs raggedly in and out, “Fuck- you’re gettin’ wet, aren’t ya?”
“I-I am?” You gape, affronted.
He sniffs at your throat and snickers, “Oh yeahhh, you are. In fact-” With only a single, sharp riiiip he’s torn off your drenched panties. Absolutely gone. And he breathes in even deeper, “-yer ovulating, mama.”
You didn’t know bulls could smell that - hell, you didn’t know any hybrid could smell that.
But before you can even think of asking him anything of the sort, Sukuna has your thighs smeared apart on his meaty hips, your cunt being speared thoroughly by his thickened shaft.
Right then n’ there on the bedroom floor, he’s taking you.
His round, bludgeoning tip entering your tiny hole- the stretch of it surrounding your pussy is incredible. A sheer sting that renders your eyes closed, your mouth speechless - meanwhile Sukuna’s just jerking his hips back and pushing and pushing. “Fuh-fuuuuck!” You shrill pathetically, feeling him open up even your most hidden orifices and head straight towards your womb. “Oh- oh my god, who let you be so damn ngh- big?”
“You’ll say—” Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrow in amusement, and he uses one of hands to flick at your swollen clit. The other two lacing on top of your scalp and tuggin’ you down roughly, “-and yet- you’re the only one to take me like this.”
“Th-the only one?” You gawk.
“The only one ta even make it this far.” He snickers, before interrupting himself with a gulping gasp of your scent. “And I’ve never smelled a human so- mmmm—” Sukuna grins and- oh, and now you’re realizing that he has two mouths.
One on his face, the other slashed across his heavily chiselled abs.
“-so delicious.”
Shivers run down your spine, “And what do I need to- ngh-” Your entire body felt weak with the way he was fuckin’ you oh-so-vulgarly open. Your pussylips were pried apart to the maximum, dribbling wet ribbons of slick. “-to help you through this rut of yours, then?”
“Oh, you just need to take it.” He grins, his pinkish tongue sticking between his teeth - both of them. That second cursed mouth of his salivates down your core, sticking just between your folds, pressing on your clit.
And every time you twitch with his rolling tastebuds, Sukuna can feel you clench. “Just lemme fuck you- oh, yeahhh, just like that. Never felt anything better.” He hiccups, two of his hands now move from your head and onto the sides of your waist. “Just take it alllll, lemme use this pretty pussy and- o-oh.”
Moving you. Teasing you. So much so that your entire body was starting to go limp - and it was exactly that boneless state of yours that made you rest your head down between the valley of his chest.
Exactly what made your mouth loll open with a puddle of drool, your hands gripping his pecs and squeezing—
“Oh sh-shit.” Sukuna groans gruffly, and you don’t know what you’re more shocked by: the cracking tone of his voice, or the way that a slight pearl of whiteness beads out of Sukuna’s pecs the moment you grope them. “Look what you’ve made me- ngh, oh fuck, brat. Fuck.”
“I-is this part of your…” Without even finishing your sentence - almost as if on instinct - you’re veering your mouth over to lick at the sap trickling out of him. And—
Oh.
Oh, Ryomen Sukuna was lactating.
“You can- this is milk?” You gasp, and before he can respond, you’re trying to urge more out. Letting the sweetened ivory sap fall into your agape maw, “I didn’t know even bull hybrids could lactate, Kuna.”
“So what?”
You look up at him through your lashes, every time he’s thrashing his cock inside you, you’re sucking on his pretty pink pecs. “I like it.”
“T-tch—” Sukuna tries to sound tough - fails. Because you could already make out the way his breath shook, his flexed core tensed.
Any time your textured tastebuds sizzled on top of him, Sukuna shivered. Was forced to attempt not to close his eyes and bite down on his lips - you’d never have thought that lactating would make the big, bad hybrid putty in your hands.
He blushes all the way down from the tips of his ears, down to his honeyed pecs, down to the globular edge of his shaft. Hitting up into your soft cervix with a bang—
“I-in about nine months, you’ll be lactating, too…” He whimpers.
♡ INO TAKUMA - Puppy
“Does it feel good, pretty?” Ino’s innocent chocolate eyes sparkle, and you swear you could see from where you were that his cute tail was wagging.
Rough thrusts being punctured by the cutest lil’ whimpers, Ino moans into your mouth just as soon as he feels you clench your heart-shaped insides ‘round him. “Ohhh, th-that means it feels good right? M’I doing a good job–?”
“Yes- yes yes yes–” You’re crying out, drunken saliva puddling on top of your pillow beside you. Each one of his roverin’ wet thrusts left your mind all emptied of thought.
And the thing is, you never even expected Ino to be this good.
NAME: INO TAKUMA
AGE: 21
OCCUPATION: UNIVERSITY STUDENT
HYBRID TYPE: CANIS LUPUS FAMILIARIS
When you’d first been notified that you were paired with a dog hybrid, you’d assumed that it would be a simple task. An easy task. They weren’t particularly apex predators, right? So how hard could it be—
That is, until you were running on the fifth round with Ino shovelling his heated cock inside you for the nth time. His silken ears drooping as he sniffs the side of your throat, trying to smell out your arousal- “So this pretty pussy’s likin’ it? Ngh, how else could I make you feel good, sweetness?”
“You’re already making me feel s-so good, Taku.” You gasp, feeling his slender fingers dip down to pinch your clit.
And just as he hears your words, Ino’s entire body perks up. Face beaming. His bulbous cock twitching at the very end, Ino drives it in even deeper against your g-spot with a damp squelch. “Oh yes? Then–” He looks down shyly, the cutest strawberry blush taking over his face. “-then could you say the special words, pretty?”
“Hmmm…” You pretend to think, “We’ll see, Taku.”
He all but whimpers.
Ah, those special words - it’d been an accidental discovery, really. The fact that Ino would be so affected by two specific words was a discovery that you hadn’t expected to stumble across during your research beforehand.
And he’s doggedly pounding his hips into yours, as if he was trying to fuck that very pet name from your mouth. “B-but I’ve been so good, don’t you think?”
As if to prove his point, Ino lightly swats your perky clit - just to show how bad he could really be.
“Now now–” Your breath hitches, thighs shivering ever-so-slightly at the sparks of bliss that suddenly explode behind your eyelids. He was drilling himself in so deep, stretchin’ out every sweet, slick-filled orifice. “-keep going like that and I won’t say it at- ngh, all.”
“Oh- please-” Don’t even mention it. Don’t even think of it. He lurches forwards to capture your lips in his, and Ino was always so sloppy with the way he kissed you.
Just letting his long, salivating tongue taste you. Ino’s lecherous sounds crack at the back of his throat, the vibrations humming along your skin. And his pretty cock just squelches out precum at the feeling, “But I’ve been so good, sweetness. Haven’t I been makin’ this pretty pussy feel all n-niiice and—” Instead of spanking your clit this time, now he’s rolling his thumb over it. Feeling the sultry wetness. “-wet, hm?”
“You have.” You tease, your face turning faux-thoughtful at the excitement in his eyes. “But I don’t know if you deserve that-”
“D-do I just need to fuck you harder, sweetness?” Ino pleads with you. And before you know it, one of his hands plaster onto the side of your hips, tuggin’ you close to him. “I can do that, y’know?”
Your brows raise, “Oh you c- oh.”
Not only is he pounding you even harder - enough that the formal bedsprings creak, enough that your vision shatters with tears - but he’s also makin’ his tempo even sloppier. Loooong, miry drags of his shaft that poke your very sweetest spots.
His blossoming red divot sticks up against the roof of your pussy and draws lil’ circles, edging towards your g-spot. “S-see? I can do harder.” He looks down at the place over your stomach, where his bulbous girth was swipin’ against your cervix. “I can also fill you up, mmm, deep inside with my ngh- cum, if you’d like?”
You swear you’re gushing out so wetly that it creates a ring of white ‘round Ino’s bulky hilt. All sappy and glistening with need.
And before you can even formulate a coherent answer inside your mind, Ino slightly raises his nose into the air and sniffs. And lets his mouth drop. His Adam’s apple swallowing. “And I can a-also smell if it’s taken, sweetness…”
“Taken?” You ogle at his words, “What do you mean-”
“You know…taken.” Ino looks at you meaningfully with this pussydrunk, half-lidded eyes of his. Every thrust of his leaves his aching knot slamming against the front of your pussy. Vicious.
“And ah- has it taken?” Asking, out of genuine curiosity - that was the entire point of the program, was it not?
“Well…” Ino elongates his throaty murmur, and for a few more strokes he lets his twitchy cock do all the talking. Smooch after smooch against the slimy door to your womb, he stirs aside the webs of cum from rounds prior. Whiffing down at your scent glands as he does- “I think just one more should n-ngh, do it.”
“Oh my—” Your mouth falls open, and you drag a hand through the tawny brown locks of Ino’s sweaty scalp. You could feel something primal building up in your stomach, in his thrusts. “Good boy.”
And there you said it.
It’d slipped out, really. Something your stupidly buzzing mind had been thinking for the last few jackhammers but hadn’t said out loud yet.
Something that Ino Takuma himself had been dying for you to say - you’d said it.
And it’s all that Ino has to hear to shove himself all the way to his thick hilt inside your pussy and cum. Deep, deep inside - like he was aiming for his gooey white ribbons to reach the very door to your womb, and you swear you could feel it slipping ‘round like just so.
Sloshing n’ squelching every time he pulled his hips out to thrust back in- “Good boy-” Ino gasps, breathless. He was hammerin’ into you vulgarly and still managed to find the time to babble out. “You called me ‘good boy’- you called me- oh…”
You blink your vision back from its daze as Ino’s voice hitches, “Yeees–?”
And he only blinks his teary lashes, looking up at you with the most needy puppy-dog eyes while he still ruts his cock into your deepest depths. “M’your good boy, aren’t I?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Snow Leopard
The room you were led to had been sectioned off.
It had been padlocked twice.
It had you stumbling back at the ice-cold pheromones that hit you the moment that door opened - and when you looked into Gojo Satoru’s expressionless face—oh.
You weren’t making it out of here alive.
One hour later.
You still think the same- “F-fuck, ngh…” Your mouth gapes ajar, saliva sploshing down the side of your mouth every time he thrusted in. Long, vicious hammers of his ravaged cock that left you all stupid.
Flat on your back. You looked up through your teary lashes at his flushed face, drunken eyes. “Toru, how are you- hck! still going?”
“I don’t know.” He replies, simply. And his voice is deep, his voice wavers. Sounding as if he was genuinely in disbelief as to how he hasn’t stopped yet.
Still fucking into you like a madman - you didn’t need to talk right now. Why would you need to talk?
A sudden, sharp laugh bursts out of Gojo’s puffy lips when he registers the fact that you could still form coherent sentences: he needed to fix that. Now.
And before you know it, one of his overlarge palms clasp down on the top of your scalp and you’re being drag-drag-draaaagged back down. Down to where he was working on mazin’ his slimy wet cockhead repeatedly past your folds, pinpointing your tiniest orifices.
Your breath hitches as you look back down to where he was pummeling you- then up to stare deeply into his glowing blue eyes.
“Enough talking.”
Three hours later.
“Oh p-please, Satoru—” You shrill out, loud enough that you’re sure the whole establishment could hear you by now. On all fours by now, with your back arched wildly into his chiselled abs.
You swear you could count all eight of them, flexing and rippling, each time his honed hips slapped into yours. Slap after slap after slap- Gojo’s crowned tip reaches for your womb and you find your legs shaking. Head falling forwards-
“Ah ah-” Your vision flashes in front of you as something firm grabs onto the back of your neck. Only a few more strokes later, you’re realizing that it was his damn bicep - curling around your neck in a headlock. “I need to scent you.”
“But you’ve been ngh- scenting me for hours already- oh.” Your words strangle up in your throat as soon as you feel yourself crashing into your high once more. For the nth time tonight.
Every white-hot burst of your high that Gojo can practically smell on you, his feline capabilities can sense just when your orgasm has peaked. And he’s pushing his vein-covered cock in maddeningly, “And I don’t hear you complaining.” You’re startled by a sudden spank down on your clit, finding that his tail had wrapped ‘round your sheeny thighs to pull them apart. Enough for him to slap your weeping pussy- “I don’t hear her complaining.”
You gawk, your spittle creating a glazed layer on top of his biceps. “Y-you can understand- oh.” Only for him to tighten his restraint. Choking you with his beefy arms—fuck.
“Of course I can, sweetheart.” Gojo purrs out, as if it should be obvious. “M’a big cat, after all. N’ I can talk to- heh…kitties.”
“Oh.” He was utterly pussydrunk. Gone.
Barely even registering when he trickles out a few gluey wads of cum to stick upon either side of your walls, all webbed up. But he wasn’t done yet - far from it, you think you can feel Gojo’s knot at his base start to swell even bigger-
“And this kitty says that she’s not done yet.”
Seven hours later.
“Please-”
“Come back-”
“Oh—” You’re being caught steadily. The bed had long since broken, and if you thought that you were stuck in the dilemma between running away from his cock and gyratin’ back for more, more, more then Gojo was already making the choice for you.
Already pulling you back with his inhuman strength, he folds you underneath him.
You’d only had the time for a brief snack break, stocked on the bedside cabinet as if the organizers knew that this was going to happen - it was Gojo’s first time in the program, though they must have known an apex predator’s stamina.
Such incredible, incredible stamina.
You had your head against his collarbone by now, your body bent into the meanest full nelson physically possible. Gojo was bending you to his lecherous whims so easily, tugging you back so you turn your face and gnaw down on his throat.
Whining, “P-please—” You let sobs wrack your throat, your entire body shaking sensitively as he shovels his long, solid inches into you again. And again. And again and again and again. “And she–” You might just be losing it as much as he was. “-says she’s not done still?”
“Mmm, let’s see…”
With a purr, Gojo’s powerful spock-marked tail wrenches apart your thighs. He snickers after one of his hands comes down to leave a solid spank!
So hard that glittering specks of slick n’ cum splatter all over your thighs. And Gojo himself finds his breath catching at the lewd sight of it- “Not yet.”
“F-fuck…” Your mouth lolls open stupidly in a silent scream - at least, you think it was silent. Because just then Gojo pulls out his entire girth to fuck back into you deeper, and it lets out the most deafening slurp. “But what if it doesn’t fi-”
“Shhh, sweetheart.” He already knew what you were going to say: that his generous helpings of cum might not fit anymore. And you didn’t need to think about that - you didn’t need to even imagine that.
What do you mean it might not fit? Hah! As if—“This kitty tells me that sh-she can take, ngh- one more.” You could practically hear the grin in his raspy tone, “In fact, she tells me she can take my knot.”
Your eyes bulge open, “That- what?”
And he’s only nodding along - not to you, but to the sultry sounds your pussy was making. As if he was in conversation with your slick-glazed pussylips. “Mhm, my knot, sweetheart.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pants, “Haaah—get ready.”
It’s the only warning you get.
Before you know it, your toes curl with such an incredible stretch.
A stinging sensation that burns all the way from your parted thighs and up your spine- you wriggle your body around, and Gojo pulls you back using his trusty headlock once more. “C’mon-” He whispers between his prolonged canines, “C’mon c’mon c’mon-”
“Shiiiit—” You trill, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as he uses his other hand to pry apart your sticky folds. Plugging a finger in to swivel inside n’ fit his swollen knot, “It’s so big- it’s so- oh my-”
“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, biiiig stretch, ain’t it?” Gojo chuckles darkly, and you’re completely pinned down while he eases inside. “Say it w’me now, m’gonna make it fit. Hah, biiiig—”
“S-stretch-” You mutter out thickly. Your head throws back with every slight centimeter of circumference he’s managing to squeeze inside. Bullying inside. “S’a big- stretch- ngh-”
“That’s it, that’s it- big stretch.”
Gojo’s just so thick that it takes you more than a few aggressive strokes to finally shove his hefty knot inside with a wettened plop! It fits in so deeply, molding your tight walls - you swear he’s so plump there that you can count each throb of his pulsations.
“Count- can you?” He’s humming after you and oh- did you say that out loud? Slowly, sensually, Gojo starts to grind his wads of cum inside.
Primally.
While you’re stupid on the stretch, he finishes off - “Let’s see if you can count how many kits I fuck into ya, sweetheart.”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Hawk <3
“Oh, honey…” Higuruma puffs out breathily from between your legs, his slick tongue lapping up n’ down your slit at a frenzied pace. “Oh, angel- oh, sugar- oh.”
“Please, Hiromi—” Your thighs shake from either side of his handsome face, where he made sure that you were practically glued to him. Your cunt sliding down his mouth, his hooked nose. “I wan’ you…hck.”
“Think she’s all ready f’me again?” One of his large hands comes up to pat your ass cheeks, tenderly- though his mouth was the complete opposite.
Shoving straight between your puffy pussylips to dig against the side of your orifice. It’s only once you’re all clean from the wads of cum stuck to you that Higuruma actually moves from underneath. His dark locks tickling the side of your thighs, “Now, turn ‘round and bend over f’me, angel?”
And the voice he’s saying it in isn’t even particularly stern - but you’re clamoring to listen to him in an instant.
Oh, a hawk hybrid: one of those rare types that you were honestly lucky to be paired up with.
But, the thing about being with such a highly endangered species (especially during his peak, his rut) was that their primal instincts told them to breed. And they were going to breed. Right now.
Smack!
“Pay attention, angel.” Higuruma doesn’t even apologize for the hand he has swatted to the side of your hips. Holding you still as he quickly swipes his ruby-red crown down your slit a few times, gathering the beads of slick that drip out of you. “You hafta pay attention when m’fuckin’ you all full of my- hah, kids, alright?”
You whine, your teary lashes fluttering- “Y-yes I- oh!”
Yet another smack!
“Ah ah, what did I tell you?” You can’t reply - he doesn’t let you. Because in an instant, Higuruma’s proud girth starts pushing in. Probing.
He’s so thick that he has to spread his meaty thighs and fuck upwards to help squeeze his split-ended tip inside. Like a spotlight, he mazes his lengthy cock inside- “Hafta what?” You feel his scalding breath puff out from behind you, and it takes you a few more half-ruts to realize that he was talking to you. “You have to what now, angel?”
“Pay attention-” You’re fisting at the sheets.
“Exactly.” And Higuruma’s swollen cock twitches just a little bit hearing you say the correct answer. “Pay attention f’me while I breed you- ngh, okay, sugar?”
“Y-yes, sir-”
Oh, it slips out without you even realizing. Without you even wanting to.
You honestly don’t know where it even came from (perhaps from your slight research about hawk hybrids beforehand? Perhaps from the whole official-feeling vibe of the building? Perhaps just from him?)
But Higuruma certainly wasn’t complaining. In fact, just the mere sound of your addressal makes him arch his back, throw his head, and it makes his powerful wings twitch.
Attached to his muscular shoulder blades, there’s a sudden whooshing sound as they suddenly flare out. Wingspan so wide that they touch either side of the dimly-lit room, and even Higuruma’s aching cock jolts.
Flinches.
Spurting out a translucent wad of pre that slickly slides down to your womb- “Y-you can’t-” Immediately, he clears his throat but it’s no use - you already hear the way that Higuruma’s voice just cracked at the very tail end of his sentence. “You can’t just call me- oh.”
“Yes, Hiromi?” Looking behind your shoulder, with those pretty eyes and that pretty voice. Honestly, he can’t handle it.
And your face is suddenly being forced forwards by one hand ‘round your neck. A headlock.
Used solely to keep you in place, he’s drilling into you from behind like a madman, the feathery ends of his wings jolting. His thick thighs shaking. Plastering every veiny inch of his cock alllll the way inside- “S’all your fuckin’ fault.” And you don’t know whether he’s talking about the way his length was pummeling even harder, or whether his wings seemed to be oversensitive. Flapping wildly. “That m’like th-this- fuck! Why do I feel like m’going so- ngh, out of control…”
Almost as if he’s babbling to himself.
Bit bit bit, probe by probe. His plump cock fits into even your smallest orifices, filling you up from the inside out and making you keen. “S’not my fault-”
“Of course, s’not- just you and this hngh-” He grits his teeth, nose sliding down the column of your throat so he can bask in your scent. “-pretty pussy, and this preeeetty scent and- and…”
“Yes?” You question, as he trails off.
And it takes a few more pressurized pushes before the stern man can finally answer, almost shyly. “-call me that again. Please, sugar?”
Oh, he was asking so nicely. So how could you possibly say no?
“Please- I want you to c-cum inside–” You swerve your peaking eyes around, eyes wet with tears. Just the mere sight itself - just those words already - enough to make Higuruma slam his riding hips, so hard that it almost hurts. “-sir?”
You feel something flutter. Something flap.
Before you’re crashing into your high, and Higuruma is right behind you - pour after stringy pour of cum. Clinging down from the edge of your cervix all the way down your folds, it formulates the cutest white ring that he takes such pleasure in smearin’ on your flesh.
Your toes curl, and you buck your hips back at a steady pace to meet his oncoming thrusts. Perfectly timed with every high mountain of your high, he fucks you oh-so-perfectly through your bliss.
Thinking that that melody of your moans was the prettiest fuckin’ thing he’s ever heard. “Oh my g-god—” Higuruma’s struggling to catch his breath, you left him shaking. “M’gonna hafta find a way for you to pay for this- fuck.”
“But you asked—” You whine in righteousness, blinking back the tears in your eyes once most of the haze has dissipated. And you’re seeing—all brown?
A glossy, dark brown that was practically black in some lighting. It’s soon after that you realize that Higuruma’s wings had been protectively encircling the two of you right as you hit your orgasms, like a curtain of long feathers.
He shivers n’ grunts as he pulls his wings back- honestly, it’s like they couldn’t be apart from you.
“Hawks are protective of their nest, you see.” He gruffs out, by way of explanation. Still trickling in gooey wet wads- “Especially of things that should be in their nest.”
okayyy, so i'm thinking some very filthy sex with zayne & valko, are u with me;)
being sandwiched between them would be heaven AND hell at the same time. zayne would be behind you, chest to your back and buried sooo deep in your ass you would feel it in your throat, fucking you steady while valko would be in the front. you'd be literally stuck between ice and fire, so full you could barely breathe
now. listen. they'd sync up without even talking about it, and have you a mess between them. when one slows down, the other picks up the pace. when one pulls out, the other one pushes in, so on and so forth. keeping you stretched open and aching and sooo fucking full, your brain would literally shut down lmaoo. legs all shaky, nails digging into whoever was closest while you dripped all over both of them
valko would be sooo nasty with it, too. biting your shoulders and neck, gripping your throat cuz you fucking love that, and calling you 'little prey' while he's balls deep inside you with you leaking around him. all the while zayne would just play with your oversensitive clit just to feel you clench on both of them at once
when you finally cum the first time, they wouldn't stop immediately, and fuck that'd hurt so good you'd sob into their necks and muffle your moans by kissing them messily. zayne would kiss all over your neck softly, like he's proud of you for taking it like such a good girl. and valko would keep pounding into you, chasing his own release while grunting praises such as how well and tight his darling is around him. you'd be overstimulated as fuck, but sooo so needy, still
they'd spit roast you stupid sometimes, and it's be your own kind of heaven. man, zayne would have your mouth around his cock, fingers in your hair and soft commands to ease your throat for him and take him deeper. you'd still gag around him, tears streaming down your face. all the while valko got busy behind you, thrusting shamelessly into your clenching pussy, slapping your ass raw cuz that got you more tight around him, babbling about knotting you. you'd be a drooling mess around zayne's cock, praying valko keeps that promise
and ohhh, the mess was part of it all. zayne would pull out of your mouth and came all over your face while valko was still busy fucking his knot into you. you'd be covered in sticky cum, licking it from the corner of your lips, eyes rolled back and seeing stars as valko finished inside you so hard you felt like collapsing, adding more to the cum already leaking out of you from previous rounds
sometimes they'd both finish in the same hole just to watch their seed mix and pour out of you. your cunt would be so full of cum it didn't even stay inside, dripping out in thick streams while you laid there twitching and empty-headed, letting zayne spread your shaky legs open to watch with a smirk while valko would kiss and bite up your thigh, calling you perfect
annnd let's not forget about overstimulation, cuz these bastards loved that shit. your clit would be soo swollen and raw even the air hurt, but zayne would keep circling it with his thumb anyway, not stopping as you were crying so prettily, begging and blabbering nonsense, clenching on nothing cuz you were too sensitive to be touched but too desperate to want them to stop
aftercare, though, would be next level because you needed it after they broke you on their massive cocks, quite literally. zayne would check your pulse for real, wipe you down with warm cloths and clean the cum off your thighs and out of you with gentle fingers while you still whimpered
and valko, ohhh he would wrap you in his big, strong arms, wolf-hug quite literally. squeezing them around you like a heated blanket and kissing every mark they both left on tour body, murmuring how perfect you were, as always
sooo, sex with them meant some nights you'd be their personal toy, passed between them, filled over and over until you were leaking and incoherent (and you fucking loved it)
then some other nights they would compete over who could make you cum more, and either way you'd end up ascending to heaven. voice gone from moaning and screaming. thighs bruised and covered in their love marks and cum
yup. now i need to go touch some grass, breathe some fresh air.... jfc
.ᐟ✧ translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!
♡ summary: You just wanted Megumi’s attention. Things got a little out of hand.
♡ word count: 7k+
♡ warnings: 18+ only, aged-up/college AU, explicit sexual content, jealousy, teasing, fingering, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, light biting, praise, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, Megumi attempting to maintain his dignity and failing miserably.
♡ author’s note: this started as a Megumi drabble when I went to work this morning, but it quickly turned into over 7k words lol. apparently neither Megumi nor I knows when to stop.
⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩
Megumi has been ignoring you for twenty minutes. You know because you checked.
Twice.
He lies on his stomach across his bed, one arm folded beneath his pillow and the other holding his book open in front of him. His hair is still slightly damp from his shower, the ends curling against the back of his neck, and he has somehow managed to remain completely focused despite the fact that you are sprawled directly on top of him.
Your cheek rests between his shoulder blades. Your legs are stretched over his, your arms loosely folded beneath your chin.
For several minutes, neither of you says anything.
Then Megumi exhales slowly. “You’re heavy.”
Your head snaps up. “No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I weigh practically nothing.”
“You’re crushing my lungs.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I can feel my spine compressing.”
“You fight curses for a living.”
“Curses usually don’t lie on me while I’m trying to read.”
You settle your full weight against him out of spite. Megumi makes a quiet, irritated sound.
“There,” you say. “Now I’m heavy.”
“You were already heavy.”
“Wow.”
“You asked.”
“I did not ask.”
“You started the conversation.”
“You started the conversation by insulting me.”
“I stated a fact.”
“You’re so mean to me.”
Megumi turns a page. You stare at the side of his face, waiting for him to apologize. He doesn’t.
“Megs.”
Nothing.
“Megumi.”
His eyes continue moving across the page.
“Megumiiii.”
“What?”
“I’m bored.”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
“Entertain me.”
“No.”
“You’re supposed to care about my emotional well-being.”
“I care about it quietly.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It usually is.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “What are you reading, anyway?”
“A book.”
“I can see that.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Because I wanted you to tell me about it.”
“You’d stop listening after thirty seconds.”
“That’s not true.”
“You stopped listening while I was explaining the rules of shogi.”
“Because there are too many little pieces.”
“There are forty.”
“Exactly.”
Megumi turns another page. You lift one hand and poke his cheek.
He ignores you. You poke him again.
His jaw tightens slightly. A third poke.
“Stop.”
“Pay attention to me.”
“No.”
Poke.
His eyes flick toward you. “Go find Itadori,” he says. “He’ll entertain you.”
You pause.
The answer comes a little too quickly, spoken with the same flat expression he uses for everything, but there is something underneath it. A faint sharpness you have noticed before whenever Yuji’s name comes up.
You pretend not to hear it.
“Yuji is with Nobara,” you complain. “They went to the moviiieeeesss.”
Megumi’s gaze drops back to his book. “Why didn’t you go too?”
“Because I don’t want to watch Human Earthworm 3 for the fifteenth time, Megs.”
“Itadori said the third one was the best.”
“Yuji also cried when the worm learned how to open a bank account.”
“It was apparently an emotional moment.”
“He made me hold his hand.”
Megumi’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around the edge of the page. You see it.
Interesting.
“You two usually enjoy doing stupid things together,” he says.
“We do not do stupid things together.”
“You spent two hours trying to convince him that Panda had a secret wife.”
“That was funny.”
“You both followed Panda through the school with binoculars.”
“It was investigative journalism.”
“You nearly fell off the roof.”
“Yuji caught me.”
Megumi’s mouth flattens.
There it is again.
You smile against his shoulder, hiding it from him. “You could come do stupid things with us sometime.”
“No.”
“You’d have fun.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You smiled when Yuji fell into the koi pond.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I was grimacing.”
“You laughed.”
“He swallowed pond water.”
“You laughed at his suffering.”
“It was a natural reaction.”
You grin and reach over his shoulder, placing your palm directly across the page. Megumi stares at the back of your hand.
"Take your hand off the page."
"No."
"I'm reading."
"I noticed."
"Then let me read."
"You've been reading forever."
"Twenty minutes."
"Exactly. Forever."
He tries to angle the book out from beneath your hand. You follow it, blocking the words again. Megumi closes his eyes. You can practically feel him counting.
"You are unbelievably annoying."
"And yet you let me in your room."
"You came in without knocking."
"And you didn't make me leave."
"You climbed onto my back before I had the chance."
"You've had plenty of chances."
He opens his eyes. You smile sweetly at him.
He looks at your face for a long second before returning to the same line he has now attempted to read four times.
You poke his cheek again. He shifts his head away. You follow. He shifts farther. You stretch over him, trying to reach, and your mouth ends up close to his shoulder. An idea occurs to you.
Megumi senses it one second too late. "Don't."
You bite him gently through his shirt. His entire body goes still beneath you. You immediately let go, laughing as you drop your chin back onto his shoulder blade.
"Did you just bite me?"
"Maybe."
"What is wrong with you?"
"You weren't paying attention."
"So you bit me?"
"It worked."
Megumi looks over his shoulder at you. His eyes are narrowed, but there is color beginning to creep across the tops of his cheeks.
You smile wider. "You're blushing."
"I'm irritated."
"Your ears are red."
"Get off."
"No."
"Fine."
Before you can ask what that means, Megumi plants one hand against the mattress and abruptly rolls onto his side.
You make a startled noise as his shoulder disappears beneath you. With nothing supporting your weight, you slide off his back and land beside him, flat on your back.
"Megumi!"
He resettles on his stomach as if nothing happened.
"You told me to get off," you accuse.
"I solved the problem."
"You threw me."
"You fell six inches."
"I could have died."
"You're still talking, so unfortunately, you didn't."
You turn your head toward him, openly offended. Megumi continues reading. For a while, you stare at the ceiling.
The room feels strangely quiet now that you’re no longer draped over him. Your shoulder rests close to his, but he seems farther away somehow. Maybe you really are annoying him.
It had felt different when you came in. He had looked tired, and you had thought bothering him might pull him out of his head. Usually it did. Usually he pretended to hate it while subtly shifting to make room for you.
Maybe today he actually wanted to be alone. You fold your hands over your stomach and stop moving.
Megumi turns a page. Then another. You know he's not reading anymore because he’s been staring at the same paragraph for nearly a minute.
Finally, he glances sideways at you. Your lips are pushed into a small pout as you stare at the ceiling. His expression changes slightly.
Not much. It is Megumi. But you notice.
"Why do you want to bother me so badly?" he asks.
You continue looking upward. "I don't know."
"You could be doing anything else."
"I know."
"I'm not fun."
That makes you turn your head. Megumi is watching you now, his book still open in front of him. There's no sarcasm in his face. He genuinely seems confused.
You blink at him.
"Megs," you say, softer now. "You're the most fun to bother."
His eyes narrow. "That doesn't sound like a compliment."
"It is when I say it."
"You bother everyone."
"Not like this."
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. Megumi goes quiet. So do you.
Neither of you looks away until Megumi finally drops his gaze back to the book.
"You and Itadori are always climbing on each other," he mutters.
You stare at him. "Excuse me?"
"He carries you around."
"Because I jump on him without warning."
"You play-fight constantly."
"He's fun to hit."
"You watch movies in his room."
"Nobara is usually there."
"Usually?"
Your mouth slowly curves. Megumi realizes his mistake too late.
You roll onto your side, propping your head up with one hand. "Are you jealous?"
"No."
"That was very fast."
"Because the answer is obvious."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"So you don't care that Yuji carries me around?"
"No."
"You don't care that we watch movies together?"
"No."
"You don't care that he held my hand during Human Earthworm?"
Megumi's jaw flexes.
You beam. "Megumi."
"Stop."
"You are jealous."
"I'm trying to read."
"You haven't turned the page in three minutes."
He turns it immediately.
"You skipped half the chapter."
"I'll go back later."
You push yourself closer and poke his cheek. Megumi leans away. You poke him again. He catches your wrist this time.
His fingers close around it, warm and firm, stopping your hand inches from his face. Your smile falters. Not because you're scared. Because he’s looking at you differently now.
The irritation is still there, but it's quieter. He watches you from beneath his lashes, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.
"You really don't know when to stop," he says.
Your pulse jumps beneath his thumb.
"Maybe I don't want to stop.”
Something passes over his face.
You lean back before you can lose your nerve, twisting your wrist free and pushing at his shoulder. Megumi rolls partly onto his back, more from surprise than force, keeping his book raised above his chest.
You follow him.
One knee lands beside his hip, then the other, until you’re straddling him over the blankets.
Megumi freezes. The book is still open between you, held in his hands. You look down at him. His eyes are wide. His breathings changed, though he’s trying very hard to pretend it hasn’t.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Bothering you."
"This isn't bothering me."
The words slip out. Megumi's expression goes blank.
Your eyebrows lift. "Oh?"
"That isn't what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
"You know what I meant."
"I really don't."
"Yes, you do."
You lean forward and place both of your hands over the pages of his book.
Megumi's gaze flickers downward, catching briefly on the way your shirt falls away from your collarbone, then snaps back to your face.
You notice. He notices you noticing. His ears turn red again.
"Put it away," you whisper.
"No."
"You're not reading it."
"I was before you attacked me."
"I didn't attack you."
"You bit me."
"Barely."
"You climbed on top of me."
"You told me to find a way to entertain myself."
"I did not say that."
"It was implied."
"It absolutely was not."
You begin pushing the book downward. Megumi resists.
"Megs."
"No."
"Megumiiii."
"Stop whining."
"Put the book away."
"Get off me."
"You don't want me to."
His hands go still. Your heart slams hard enough that you're certain he can feel it through every point where your bodies touch. Megumi looks up at you. The playful edge begins to disappear from your smile.
Even with all of the teasing, you suddenly feel exposed. You’ve spent months climbing into his space, stealing his food, sleeping against his shoulder during movies, and pretending none of it means anything.
Maybe he really does think you want Yuji. Maybe you've hidden it too well.
"You really think I came in here because Yuji wasn't available?" you ask quietly.
Megumi's brows draw together. "You said you were bored."
"I was."
"That's what I mean."
"No, it isn't."
His eyes search your face. You press the book flat against his chest, not fighting to take it from him anymore.
"I could have gone with them," you say. "I could have found Panda. Or Maki. Or literally anyone else."
Megumi doesn't move.
"I came here."
His throat shifts as he swallows.
"Why?"
You smile, but it's smaller now. Nervous.
"Because you're here."
Megumi stares at you. The room feels painfully still. Then, slowly, he closes the book.
Your breath catches. He reaches toward the nightstand and sets it down without taking his eyes off you.
"There," he says.
You glance at the empty space between you. "There what?"
"You got what you wanted."
"I wanted your attention."
"You have it."
His hands settle carefully at your hips. All of your teasing disappears at once. Megumi's thumbs press lightly through the fabric of your shirt, almost tentative, giving you every opportunity to pull away. You don't.
His eyes flicker across your face. "You don't have a thing for Itadori?” he asks.
You shake your head. "No."
"Then who?"
You stare at him in disbelief. "You're supposed to be smart."
"I want to hear you say it."
The confidence in his voice does something dangerous to your stomach. You lean down until your nose brushes his.
"You," you whisper. "Obviously."
Megumi closes the remaining distance.
His mouth meets yours with none of the uncertainty you expected from him. His hands tighten at your hips as you sink against him, your fingers sliding into the damp hair at the back of his neck.
The kiss starts slow, but it doesn't stay that way.
Megumi rolls you beneath him without breaking it, and your surprised laugh disappears against his mouth. He pulls back only long enough to look down at you, his face flushed and his breathing uneven.
"You're still annoying," he murmurs.
You tug him closer by his shirt. "And you're still no fun."
His eyes darken. "You're about to find out."
Megumi's mouth finds yours again before you can catch your breath, and this time there's nothing tentative about it. His tongue slides against yours as his weight settles more fully over you, pinning you to the mattress. One hand catches both your wrists and presses them into the pillow above your head.
You gasp against his mouth.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark blue eyes searching your face with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.
"Tell me to stop," he says quietly.
"No."
"Tell me if you want me to stop."
"Megumi." You arch up against him, testing his grip on your wrists. His fingers tighten. "I've wanted this for months."
His grip on your wrists loosens for a second. Then his hand slides beneath your shirt, his palm hot against your ribs.
"Months?" he repeats, his voice rough. "You've been driving me insane for months."
"Good."
He makes a sound low in his throat and kisses you again, harder this time, his teeth catching your bottom lip. The small bite of pain makes you moan, and you feel him shudder against you.
"Every time you touched Itadori," he murmurs against your mouth, "every time you laughed at his jokes, every time you…" He breaks off, his hand sliding higher under your shirt. "I wanted to…"
"What?" You're breathless, straining against his hold on your wrists. "What did you want to do?"
His thumb brushes the underside of your breast through your bra.
"This," he says simply.
Then his mouth is on your neck, hot and open, and you arch into him with a gasp. He bites down gently where your neck meets your shoulder, then soothes it with his tongue, and the combination makes heat pool low in your belly.
"Megumi—"
"Say it again."
"What?"
He releases your wrists to pull your shirt up and over your head, and you help him, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against yours. Your bra follows, and then his hands are on you, palming your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until you're squirming under him.
"Say my name again."
"Megumi," you breathe, and he rewards you by taking one nipple into his mouth.
Your fingers tighten in his hair as he works you with his tongue and teeth until you can’t keep your breathing steady. He moves to the other breast, his hand replacing his mouth on the first, and you can feel how hard he is against your thigh through his sweatpants.
You reach down between you, palming him through the fabric, and he groans against your skin.
"Fuck," he mutters, pulling back. His breathing is uneven, his lips flushed from kissing you. "You have no idea how many times I've thought about this."
"Tell me."
He catches your hand, pressing it more firmly against his erection, and the heat of him even through layers of clothing makes you dizzy.
"Every night," he says, his voice low and rough. "Every time you fell asleep in my room. Every time you wore those shorts that barely cover anything. Every time you bit your lip when you were concentrating." His hips rock forward into your palm. "I'd lie here after you left and touch myself thinking about you."
The image of it—Megumi in this bed, his hand wrapped around his cock, your name on his lips—makes you clench around nothing.
"Show me," you whisper.
"Not yet."
He pulls your hand away and pins both wrists above your head again with one hand. The other goes to the waistband of your pants, and he pauses, looking up at you.
"Please," you say before he can ask.
He strips you quickly, your shorts and underwear gone before he even bothers with his own clothes. His eyes drag over your bare body, and your legs spread wider beneath the weight of his stare.
His hand slides slowly up your inner thigh.
"So eager," he murmurs, but there's no mockery in it. His fingers brush through your folds, and his breath catches. "Fuck, you're so wet."
"I know," you breathe, letting out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe this is actually happening."
"Good." He circles your clit with one finger, light and teasing, and you buck against his hand. "I want you like this. I want you desperate for me."
"I am," you gasp, almost laughing because the admission feels ridiculous now that he is actually here. "I have been, which is honestly a little humiliating."
Megumi's mouth brushes your jaw. "Doesn't seem like it."
"You are so irritating."
He slides one finger inside you, and whatever you were about to say disappears beneath the sound that leaves both of you. Megumi goes still for half a second, staring down at you like he’s just as affected by this as you are.
Then he starts to move his fingers. Slowly at first, watching every change in your expression as his thumb finds your clit. When he adds a second finger, your hips lift instinctively to meet his hand.
"Megumi," you breathe.
"What?"
You give him an exasperated look, although it loses most of its effect when his fingers curl inside you.
"You cannot seriously be making me—ah—ask."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Ask what?"
"Oh my God."
He kisses you before you can insult him, swallowing your frustrated sound as his hand finally gives you what you were trying to ask for. The stretch pulls a broken gasp from you, and Megumi's teasing expression vanishes.
"Fuck," he breathes against your mouth.
His fingers curl again, finding the place that makes your entire body tense beneath him.
Your head falls back against the pillow, a soft, broken moan slipping out when he presses there again.
Megumi stares at you, visibly stunned for a moment, then does it again.
“I made you sound like that?”
"Please don't get smug right now."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Mmm."
He kisses you again, deeper this time, and keeps his hand moving until you can’t bite or another smart response. The pleasure builds too quickly, sharpened by months of wanting him and never quite believing you would actually have him like this.
Your hands squirm against his grip. Megumi releases them immediately, bracing himself over you as your fingers clutch at his shoulders. Your fingernails leave red crescents in the muscles there.
"Megu—mi—ahhh," you gasp, your voice breaking around his name.
His eyes flick over your face. Whatever he sees makes him look hungry for more.
"You're close."
You let out a breathless, almost offended laugh. "Obviously."
His mouth twitches, but then his fingers curl more deliberately and every trace of humor disappears from you.
"Oh, fuck."
Your nails dig harder into his shoulders. You try to pull him closer, even though there's barely any space left between you as it is.
Megumi lowers his forehead to yours, watching you with an intensity that would make you self-conscious if you could think about anything other than his hand.
"Don't stop—please—don't—" you start to babble.
"I'm not."
He keeps the same rhythm, his fingers pressing into that spot with every slow curl while his thumb works over your clit. Your hips lift helplessly into his hand, and the pressure pulls tighter until your thighs start trembling around his wrist.
"Megumi," you gasp again. "I'm going to…" The rest dissolves into a moan.
The orgasm rushes through you before you can finish the sentence, your back arching as your body clenches hard around his fingers. His name is torn from you, followed by breathless sounds you can’t hold back as your nails drag down his shoulders.
Megumi stares at you.
His fingers keep moving, carrying you through it even when your thighs close around his hand and your body jerks beneath him. Every slow curl draws another helpless noise from you until the pleasure becomes too sharp to bear and you catch his wrist.
"Okay," you gasp, half laughing as you try to breathe. "Okay, fuck."
That’s when his fingers stop. Neither of you moves. You lie under him shaking, your chest rising and falling against his while Megumi watches your face like he's forgotten everything else in the room.
"What?" you ask weakly.
His lips part, but nothing comes out.
You let out another unsteady laugh. "Did I break you?"
"No."
"You look a little broken."
"Don't start."
His voice is rough enough to make your stomach tighten all over again.
Your hands go to his shirt, shoving it upward, and he pulls back just long enough to drag it over his head. Then you're touching him everywhere you can reach, running your palms over his chest, his shoulders, the lean muscle of his arms.
Megumi catches your mouth again, but his hand slips back between your thighs. You jerk against him the second his fingers press inside you.
"Megumi," you protest breathlessly. "I just came."
"I know."
His forehead settles against yours as he begins moving them again, slower than before but no less deliberate.
You stare at him in disbelief. "Then what are you doing?"
"Do it again."
A startled laugh escapes you. "Are you serious?"
"Yes."
The blunt answer makes your stomach tighten.
Megumi watches your face as his thumb brushes over your clit, taking in the way your breath catches despite your attempt to glare at him.
"You were staring at me," you say.
"I know."
"You're still staring."
"I know."
His fingers curl, and whatever else you were going to say breaks apart into a soft, helpless moan and Megumi's eyes darken.
"That," he murmurs. "I want to hear that again."
Heat rushes into your face. "Oh my God."
"And I want to see it again."
You open your mouth, though you have no idea what you plan to say. His thumb circles your clit again before you can decide, and your hips lift into his hand.
"There," he says quietly, almost to himself. "Those pretty little sounds."
"You can’t start talking like that…." You whine.
"Why not?"
"Because I can't think when you say shit like that."
The corner of his mouth lifts, barely there. "I noticed."
"You're awful."
Megumi kisses you before you can say anything else. His free hand cups your jaw, keeping you close while his fingers settle into a steady rhythm.
It’s almost embarrassing how quick the pleasure starts building again.
Your body is still sensitive from the first time, every pass of his thumb is sharper now, every curl of his fingers pulling another broken sound from you. Megumi catches them against your mouth until he finally pulls back, breathing hard as he looks at you.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
“What?”
He shakes his head, his eyes still fixed on your face. “Nothing.”
“That is clearly not nothing.”
“You’re beautiful.”
You stare at him, caught completely off guard.
Then his thumb presses down harder, and whatever you might have said disappears as your whole body tightens under him.
“Oh, fuck. Megumi, I’m…”
“I can tell.”
There’s no smugness in his voice now. He sounds almost dazed.
His hand doesn’t stop. You clutch at his shoulders as the pleasure builds too quickly, and your thighs tighten around his wrist.
Then the orgasm hits you hard. Your back lifts off the mattress as you come, his name breaking apart on your lips while your fingers dig into his shoulders. Megumi watches your face the entire time, his lips parted and his breathing uneven, like he can’t believe he’s the one making you look like this.
His fingers keep moving until the pleasure becomes too much and you grab his wrist to stop him again. You fall back against the mattress, breathless and still trembling beneath him.
Megumi is still staring.
“What?” you manage.
His thumb brushes once over your cheek.“You really look like that because of me.”
Your face heats. “Megumi.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
His eyes move over your face again, his breathing still uneven.
“And you’re making those sounds because of me.”
You stare at him, suddenly way too aware of how closely he’s been watching you.
“There is something seriously wrong with you.”
“Probably.”
His thumb drags across your bottom lip. “I want to hear you do that when I’m inside you.”
Your stomach turns upside down. You reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling it down slightly.
“Take these off.”
Megumi pulls his fingers from inside you, and brings them to his mouth. You watch him. His eyes stay on yours as he brings his fingers to his mouth and slowly licks them clean, and the sight sends another sharp feeling through you.
“Megumi.”
“What?”
You let out a disbelieving laugh. “You know what.”
The faintest hint of a smile touches his mouth before he sits back and pushes his sweatpants and boxers down together. Your eyes drop before you can stop them.
His cock is long, and thick enough to make your thighs press together on instinct, the tip flushed and already leaking.
Megumi notices you staring.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
You look up at him. “Like what?”
He doesn’t answer.
You reach for him instead, wrapping your hand around his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath, his hips jerking into your touch before he catches your wrist.
“Wait.”
“You were just inside me with three fingers...”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Because I’m already trying not to embarrass myself.”
You blink, then laugh softly. “Megumi.”
“I’m serious.”
“I don’t care how long you last.”
“Well, I do.” He pins your hand beside your head, his face flushed as he settles back between your thighs. “I’ve thought about this too many times for it to be over immediately.”
Your mouth twists into a smirk. “You’ve thought about this?”
“Not discussing that right now.”
“You brought it up.”
“I know. That was a mistake.”
You are still smiling when the head of his cock slips through your wetness. The smile disappears when he presses against you and then stops. Your hips lift instinctively. Megumi pulls back just enough to keep you from taking him in.
“…Seriously?”
His eyes search yours. “Say it again.”
“Please.”
“No.” His hand comes up to your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. “What you said before.”
You know what he means, but the uncertainty in his expression makes your chest tighten.
“You’re still worried about Yuji?”
Megumi looks away for half a second. “Just answer me.”
You catch his face and turn him back toward you.
“It’s you,” you say. “It’s been you this whole time.”
His eyes hold yours.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” he says quietly.
Then he kisses you and sinks into you slowly, his mouth muffling the broken moan that slips out when you feel him fill you completely.
You both break the kiss with a sharp breath. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, and Megumi goes still immediately, his eyes searching your face.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” You shift beneath him, breathing through the stretch. “Just give me a second.”
He nods, but his breathing is already uneven. He holds himself completely still until the tension starts to leave your body, then slowly sinks the rest of the way in.
His forehead drops against yours. “Fuck.”
You let out a shaky laugh. “That good?”
Megumi closes his eyes. “Please don’t make me answer questions right now.”
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. His hips press into you on instinct, and a strained sound catches in his throat.
He stays buried inside you, his body tense above yours, while you try to process that this is actually happening.
You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Megumi."
"What?"
"Are you planning to stay like this all night?"
His eyes open. "You said you needed a second."
"I had one."
"That was not a second."
"You know what I mean."
He draws back carefully, and the slow drag makes your breath catch. Then he pushes into you again, just as deep, his jaw tightening like moving slowly is taking everything he has.
You grip the back of his neck. "You know you don't have to be this careful, right?"
His eyes lift to yours. "I'm trying not to hurt you."
"You're not hurting me."
Megumi gives you another slow thrust, watching your face the entire time.
"Megumi."
"What?"
You pull him closer until your lips brush his. "I'm not going to break."
His hand tightens slightly on your hip. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
He kisses you as he thrusts into you again, harder this time. The sound that leaves you is swallowed by his mouth. Megumi immediately starts to pull back, but your legs tighten around his waist Megumi immediately starts to slow down, but your legs tighten around his waist.
"No," you breathe. "That was good."
His eyes search yours. "You made a noise."
"Yeah, because it felt good."
"You sounded surprised."
"I was." Your nails press into his shoulders. "I wasn't complaining."
His mouth finds yours again, swallowing your next gasp as he gives you another deep thrust, then another.
The careful pace starts to slip away. His grip on your hip grows firmer as he settles into a rhythm, each thrust deeper than the last. You cling to him, still half dizzy from the fact that this is actually Megumi above you, inside you, looking almost as overwhelmed as you feel.
"Still think I'm no fun?" he asks against your mouth.
A laugh catches in your throat. "Getting a little smug there, Megs.”
"You started it."
"I was bored."
"And now?"
He presses into you harder, and whatever answer you had disappears into a moan. Megumi's mouth twitches.
"You know exactly what you’re doing," you breathe.
"Maybe."
His rhythm gets faster, the bed rocking under you. Your nails drag down his shoulders as his mouth moves from yours to your jaw.
"Say it again."
You know immediately what he means.
"It's you."
His breath catches against your skin.
"Megumi…"
"Again."
"Only you."
The rough sound that leaves him goes straight through you. His hand slips under your thigh, pulling it higher as he presses deeper, and the next thrust knocks the breath from your lungs.
He keeps the same pace, each thrust pushing you closer before you have time to catch your breath from the last. Your body is already so sensitive, and it doesn’t take long before the pleasure starts building higher and higher again.
Megumi notices the change in you immediately. “You’re close.”
You let out a breathless laugh. “Obviously.”
His hand slips between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. Your hips wiggle under him.
“Oh, fuck.”
“There?”
“Yes.” Your nails dig into his shoulders harder, drawing blood. “Don’t stop please.”
“I won’t.”
His hips keep driving into you with the same deep rhythm while his thumb slides over your clit in circles that match his pace, and the combination wipes every thought from your head. You hold onto him, your legs tightening around his waist as each breath turns into another soft, broken sound. Megumi’s breathing grows rougher against your cheek.
“Megumi,” you gasp. “I’m going to…”
“I know.”
The orgasm hits before you can finish that thought.
Your body locks around him, your back lifting up to press into his frame, as his name breaks apart on your lips. You clench around him again and again, unable to stop the breathy moans spilling out with every wave of pleasure you feel.
Megumi curses against your neck. His hips falter once, but he doesn’t stop. He pushes through it, still thrusting into you while your body shakes beneath him. Each deep stroke drags the pleasure out longer, pulling another desperate sound from you.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You're making this impossible.”
You’re too far gone to do anything but cling to him.
"I'm not doing it on purpose," you gasp.
"You're squeezing me."
"I'm coming," you gasp. "What do… you want… from me..?”
He lets out a noise that might have been a laugh. Your body tightens around him again, the last wave of your orgasm pulling another groan from your throat. Megumi’s rhythm finally gives.
He manages one more deep thrust before stopping with his hips pressed tightly against yours, his face dropping into your neck. His whole body is rigid above you, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.
You lay there under him, still shaking, your legs loose around his waist.
“Megumi…”
“Mm.”
He doesn’t lift his head.
Your fingers slide weakly into his hair. “Did you…”
“No.”
The answer comes out strained enough to make you smile.
“No?”
“Trying not to.”
Another aftershock makes you clench around him. Megumi groans into your neck, his fingers tightening hard against your thigh.
“Fuck.”
“.. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.” His voice is almost gone.
He stays buried inside you, breathing through it while you try to come back to yourself. Your chest rises against his, both of you damp and trembling, neither of you quite able to separate.
Eventually, he lifts his head. His hair is falling into his eyes, his cheeks flushed deep pink. He looks wrecked. You probably do too.
“You okay?” He whispers.
You nod once. Then his gaze drops to your mouth.
“Good, because I’m not done with you.”
Your stomach tightens all over again.
“Oh.”
Megumi gives you a tired, suspicious look. “What?”
“Nothing.”
"That wasn't nothing."
"I just liked that."
His face flushes deeper. “Of course you did.”
You shift under him, and his eyes close immediately. “Stop.”
“I barely moved.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“I’m lying here.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
You smile and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Megumi kisses you again as he draws his hips back. The drag of him inside you makes your fingers curl into his shoulders, a soft sound slipping from both of you.
He presses back in slowly. Your body is so sensitive that even that feels almost unbearable. Your lips part against his, and Megumi pauses just long enough to watch your face.
“Okay?” he asks.
You nod quickly. “Again.”
The next thrust goes deeper.
Your head tips back against the pillow. “Fuck.”
Megumi’s mouth finds your throat, his breath turning uneven against your skin as he does it again. He tries to keep the same restrained pace, but it lasts only a handful of strokes before his grip tightens on your hip.
You pull him closer. “Megumi…”
He lifts his head.
“Harder.” The word barely leaves you. Something in his face changes. His next thrust knocks a gasp from you.
Megumi stops for half a second, eyes searching your face, but your nails dig into his shoulders before he can say anything.
“Yes,” you breathe. “Just like that.”
He does it again.
Your cry disappears against his mouth as he kisses you, his hips finding a harder, deeper rhythm. The bed rocks beneath you, the headboard knocking steadily against the wall while you cling to him. while you cling to him and try to hold on.
There’s no room left for conversation. Only his breathing against your lips. Your name, half swallowed. The sounds he pulls from you every time he presses into you just right. Megumi’s hand slides under your thigh, lifting it even higher over him. The new angle makes your whole body jolt.
“Oh, fuck—Megumi!”
“I know.”
He sounds barely coherent himself. His forehead drops against yours. His eyes stay half open, fixed on your face even as his thrusts start to turn uneven.
You can feel how close he is, the muscles in his thighs tightening against yours as his rhythm turns frantic. His breathing grows ragged, his jaw clenched like he’s fighting his own body.
Your fingers twist into his hair. “Megumi…“
“Yeah?”
You can’t finish the thought. You don’t know what you were going to ask for anyway. His hand slips between you, and the first brush of his thumb makes you shiver.
Megumi groans. “You’re so sensitive.”
“Don’t stop.”
“I’m not.”
His thumb circles you again while his hips keep driving into you, and the pleasure comes back almost violently. Your body has not recovered from the last orgasm, every nerve already raw and awake.
You clutch at him. “Fuck, I’m…”
Megumi presses his forehead harder against yours. “I can feel it.”
His voice cracks on the last word. Your thighs tighten around his waist. He keeps going. Even when your breaths turn into helpless, uneven moans. Even when your body starts clenching around him again and his own rhythm stutters.
“Megumi.”
“I know.”
“Please…”
His mouth catches yours. The next thrust sends you over. Your body locks around him again, tighter this time, your legs pulling him even closer as you come with his name breathed against his lips. The pleasure rolls through you hard enough to leave you shaking, every pulse tightening around him again and again.
Megumi makes a wrecked, strangled sound. He tries to hold on. You feel it in the way his body goes rigid, in the way his hips falter and then force themselves into one more deep stroke.
His mouth falls open against yours as he comes, a broken groan leaving him while he presses as deep as he can. His whole body trembles above you, one hand gripping your hip and the other braced beside your head. You hold onto him through it.
Neither of you can kiss properly. Your lips keep brushing together between gasping breaths, both of you are too far gone to do more than stay tangled together while the last waves pass through you.
Megumi finally gives up trying to hold himself above you. He drops against your body, his face buried in the side of your neck and his heart pounding wildly against your chest.
You lie there under him, boneless and sweaty, your fingers dragging lazily through his hair. Neither of you says anything until your breathing begins to settle.
Then you murmur, "Still think I'm heavy?"
A weak laugh warms your skin. "Extremely."
You blink at the ceiling. "You're literally crushing me."
"I know."
"Megumi."
He tightens his arms around you. "No."
Despite yourself, you laugh, tired and breathless, and feel his mouth curve against your neck.
Finally, he rolls onto his side and pulls you with him, tucking you against his chest. His hand moves slowly along your back while both of you continue trying to catch your breath.
Megumi lifts his head slightly. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you say softly.
He kisses your forehead, then your temple. When he reaches your mouth, the kiss is quiet and lingering.
Afterward, he stays close enough that his nose brushes yours.
"You meant it?"
You know exactly what he is asking.
"That it's you?"
He nods once.
"Yes, Megumi." You trace your fingers along his chest. "I meant it."
His shoulders loosen against the mattress.
"Okay."
You smile. "That's all you have to say?"
His arm tightens around you. "Stay."
"Obviously."
"Good."
You settle against him, your fingers drawing idle patterns over his skin. After a while, his mouth brushes the top of your head.
"For the record," he murmurs, "you were never that annoying."
So you’ve caught the boss’s eye, huh? Think you’re up to being part of the Babygirls? Well, you better know that the boss [alright she trusts you enough to reveal…Name: Tony (she/her)] has been ruling these parts from beneath the shadows for 21 years now as exalted boss of DTGB (Daddy Tony’s Gang of Babygirls), aaaand alongside a little side-dabbling as a GOJO-GAGGER ♡ GETO’S THERAPIST!
Think you’ll pass the initiation? You better be of ADULT AGE before we hand you that emblem, newbie.
But be warned, because Tony will make…a gang-star out of you!
Requests: CLOSED
Backup: @tonysighs
Passed the initiation? Good. Your first mission is to vow to THE BABYGIRLS' HONOR and read through THE GOLDEN PAGES lest you wish to get overthrown.
MASTERLIST #1 & MASTERLIST #2 & MASTERLIST #3
[TONY SHARES ANOTHER GOLDEN NUGGET OF INFO—The rats underground say there’s tension brewing amongst factions?! Aide the split-off gang: MADAM GOJO.]
FRESH FROM TONY’S LAIR: New writing usually on WED/ SUN nights.
♡ summary: Megumi walks in on you and your boyfriend Yuji. He doesn’t leave. Yuji doesn’t make him.
♡ word count: ~6k
♡ warnings: mdni, 18+ only, aged-up/college AU, established relationship (yuji x reader), friends to lovers, mutual pining, m/f/m threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, poly relationship beginnings, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f & m receiving), fingering, masturbation, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, cum swallowing, dirty talk, love confessions, aftercare, fluffy ending
♡ author’s note: this is my first request ever!! thank you so much for sending it in. i hope you enjoy! ♡
Yuji's hands are warm on your hips, steadying you as you roll down onto him, and you're pretty sure you've forgotten how to breathe properly.
"There—" you gasp, bracing your palms flat against his chest. "Right there, don't—"
"I know," he says, grinning up at you even though his voice is wrecked. "I know, baby, I've got you."
His thumbs press into the soft skin just above your hip bones, guiding your rhythm, and you can feel the way his fingers flex every time you clench around him. Your uniform skirt is bunched up around your waist, completely useless, and you're still wearing your knee-high socks because neither of you bothered to take them off. Yuji's boxers are shoved down just far enough that his cock is free, and honestly the whole thing is kind of a mess, but it's your mess.
It's always like this with him… easy and urgent and a little chaotic.
"Fuck," Yuji breathes, and his hips buck up to meet you. "You're so—"
You lean down and kiss him before he can finish, swallowing whatever he was going to say. His mouth is hot and open against yours, and he makes this soft sound in the back of his throat that goes straight through you.
When you pull back, his breathing is labored, his mouth soft and swollen, and there's redness spreading down his neck.
"So what?" you ask, rolling your hips in a slow circle just to watch his expression fracture.
"Hmmmm—mean," he says, laughing breathlessly. "You're mean."
"You like it."
"Yeah." His grip tightens on your waist. "Yeah, I really do."
You sit up a little straighter. The change in angle makes you both groan. Yuji’s hands slide up your sides, his thumbs brushing beneath your ribs. His stomach tightens under your fingertips.
"Can you—" He swallows hard. "Go faster?"
"Like this?" You pick up the pace, and the sound he makes is almost pained.
"Oh fuck, yes, just—just like that."
His hands find your breasts through your shirt, and he blinks. “Wait…” A grin spreads across his face. “You’re not wearing a bra.”
He sits up and catches you around the waist before you can wobble. His mouth is on your neck a second later. Then your collarbone. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging just enough to pull a groan from him.
"Love you," he mumbles into your skin. "Love you so much."
Your heart skips a beat, warmth spreading through your chest.
"Love you too," you whisper, and then you can't say anything else because he's rolling his hips up into you and the angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.
"Oh—oh god—"
"Yeah?" Yuji's voice is rough, pleased. "That good?"
"Shut up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it.
He laughs, and you can feel it rumble through his chest. "Make me."
So you kiss him again, and he kisses you back with a grin against your lips. His hands settle on your hips, and after a second you’re moving together naturally. Your stomach starts to tighten as your orgasm starts to build up.
"Yuji—"
"I know," he says again. "I can feel it. You're so close, aren't you?"
"Yeah," you breathe. "Yeah, I'm—"
"Let me see," he says, pulling back just enough to look at your face. "Wanna watch you."
His voice is so soft, even now, even like this. It's almost unfair how much you love him.
You brace your hands on his shoulders and ride him harder, chasing that feeling, and Yuji's watching you like you're the only thing in the world that matters. His hands are steady on your hips, guiding you, and you can feel the tension building and building—
Then the door opens.
You don't stop moving. You can't. You're right there, right on the edge, and your body doesn't care that Megumi Fushiguro just walked into the room without knocking.
Your eyes lock with his across the small space. He freezes in the doorway, his hand is still on the handle.
"Oh—oh fuck—" you gasp, and you're not sure if it's because of Megumi being there or because you're coming, but suddenly you’re clenching around Yuji’s cock, and everything else disappears.
"Ah—ah—yes—" You can't stop the sounds spilling out of your mouth, can't stop your hips from rolling as you ride it out, and Megumi is still standing there, watching you fall apart on his best friend's dick.
Yuji's hands tighten on your waist, and you feel him throb inside you.
"Holy shit," Yuji breathes, and you can't tell if he's talking about you coming or about Megumi seeing it happen.
The three of you stare at each other. Nobody moves.
Your chest is heaving, and you can feel the aftershocks still pulsing through you. Yuji's fingers are digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. Megumi's face is carefully blank, but his eyes aren’t. His breathing is harsh, almost ragged.
"I—" Megumi starts, and his voice comes out rough. He clears his throat. "I was going to ask about the mission briefing."
You should say something. You should tell him to leave. You should climb off Yuji's lap and fix your skirt and pretend this never happened.
But you don't move, nobody does. The silence lingers. You can hear your own breathing, it’s way too loud. Yuji's heart is hammering against your palm where it rests on his chest.
"The door was unlocked," Megumi says finally, and his voice is flat. Defensive.
You should climb off Yuji. You should cover yourself. But, you just sit there, embarrassed… and unable to stop looking at Megumi.
Yuji's hands loosen on your hips. "Megumi, I—"
"I'll go." Megumi's already turning toward the door.
"Wait," you hear yourself say.
He stops, but he doesn’t turn around. Your face is burning. You don't know why you said it. You don't know what you want.
"I should go," Megumi says again, quieter this time. His hand is on the door handle, and his knuckles are white.
"Do you want to?" The question comes out before you can stop it.
The silence that follows is worse than before.
Slowly, Megumi turns back around. His expression is carefully controlled, but there's a wild, desperate hunger in his eyes that’s angry and wanting.
"That's not—" He stops. Jaw clenched. "That's not a fair question."
"Megumi," Yuji says, and his voice is shaking. "You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." Megumi's hands curl into fists at his sides. "I should leave. I should walk out that door and we should all pretend this never happened."
"But you're not leaving," you say softly.
His jaw works. “No,” he admits. “I’m not.” His hands are still clenched at his sides.
The air feels too thick to breathe.
Yuji moves under you, and you feel his cock twitch inside you. He's still hard. Somehow that only makes this harder to think about.
"This is fucked up," Yuji says, but he doesn't pull away from you. His hands are still on your waist, holding you in place.
"Yeah," Megumi agrees. His voice is rough. "It is."
"We shouldn't—" You start, but you don't finish the sentence.
Megumi takes a step closer to the bed. Then another. He moves like he's fighting himself with every step.
"Tell me to leave," he says, “One of you tell me to leave."
Neither of you says anything.
He’s at the edge of the bed now, close enough to touch. His shoulders are tight. He doesn’t move any closer. He doesn’t leave, either.
"Fuck," he breathes.
You reach out without thinking, and your fingers brush his wrist. He flinches at the contact but doesn't pull away.
"Is this—" Yuji's voice cracks. "Are we really—?”
"I don't know," you admit. Your heart is racing. "I don't know what this is."
Your fingers brush his wrist. His breath catches. “This is a mistake.”
"Probably," you agree.
"We're going to regret this." Megumi says quietly.
"Maybe." You answer.
His hand comes up slowly, brushing the space between you before he finally touches your cheek.
"I can't—" He stops. Swallows hard. "I shouldn't want this."
"But you do," you say quietly.
His jaw works. He doesn’t answer. His hand never leaves your face, even though it’s trembling.
Yuji makes a sound low in his throat. When you look down at him, his expression is complicated, conflicted, aroused and maybe a little scared.
"Yuji," you say softly. "If you want to stop—"
"I don't know what I want," he admits. His hands tighten on your waist. "This is my best friend. This is—we shouldn't—"
"I know."
"But I—" He looks at Megumi, then back at you. "I don't want to stop."
Yuji looks at Megumi. Megumi looks at you.
Megumi’s hand slides into your hair and stays there.
"This doesn't mean anything," he says, and his voice is hard. "After tonight, we forget this happened."
It's a lie. You all know it's a lie.
But you nod anyway.
He leans down and kisses you. It’s nothing like kissing Yuji. This isn’t gentle. It’s messy and desperate, like he doesn’t know how to stop once he starts. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, holding you in place, and you can feel Yuji tense up under you.
When Megumi pulls back, you're both breathing hard.
"Fuck," Yuji breathes. He sounds wrecked.
Megumi's voice drops. "Tell me to stop."
"I can't," you admit.
His hands move to the hem of your shirt, and he pauses, giving you one last chance to pull away. When you don't, he pulls it over your head quickly.
Now it’s just your skirt bunched up around your waist. You instinctively fold your arms in for half a second before realizing neither of them can look away.
"Jesus," Megumi mutters, and there's pain in his voice.
Yuji's hands slide up your sides, and his touch is grounding and familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. He doesn't say anything. Just watches while Megumi's hands move over your skin for the first time.
Megumi's jaw clenches. His hands hover over you like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch you or not.
"It's okay," you say softly, even though nothing about this is okay.
He cups your breast. His grip is firmer than Yuji’s. His thumb brushes over your nipple, and you gasp.
Megumi glances at Yuji, then back to you. He does it again, watching your face. His thumb circles slowly, and when you arch into his hand with a soft moan, he goes still for half a second.
Yuji’s hands stay on your other breast, but he’s quiet. He doesn’t look away. His jaw is tight.
Megumi rolls your nipple between his fingers, and you arch into his hand with a soft moan. Yuji’s hand is still on your other breast.
This is wrong. This is so wrong. But you let him keep touching you.
Megumi leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth, and the heat of his tongue makes you cry out. Yuji's still touching you, and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, and everything is too much and not enough at the same time.
"Fuck," you gasp. "Oh fuck—"
Megumi pulls off with a soft sound. "Too much?"
"No," you breathe. "Don't stop."
He looks at you for another second, then lowers his head again.
"You're so wet," Yuji murmurs, and he sounds almost awed. "God, you're dripping."
Your face burns. You can feel it, the way you're soaking him, making a mess of both of you. Megumi groans against your skin. The sound pulls another gasp from you.
Yuji's hands slide down to your hips again, and he starts to move, slow and careful. You're still sensitive from your first orgasm, and every thrust makes you shudder.
"Yuji—"
He doesn't answer. His jaw clenches as he watches Megumi's mouth still working your breast, his breathing turns ragged. He looks like he wants this. Like he hates that he wants it.
Megumi straightens up, and his hand slides down your stomach, over your bunched-up skirt. His fingers trace the place where you and Yuji are joined. You both make a sound. Yours is high and desperate. Yuji’s catches in his throat.
"Can I—" Megumi's voice is rough. "Can I touch you?"
You nod, not trusting your voice.
His fingers find your clit, and the first touch has your hips lifting before you can stop them. He doesn't ease into it, he just presses down and rubs in deliberate circles.
"Oh fuck—"
Yuji's hands tighten on your hips, almost bruising. He's still moving inside you, but his rhythm is unsteady now. When you look down at him, his jaw is tight, his eyes are dark and fixed on yours like he can't look away. His grip on your hips loosens and then tightens.
"Yuji—" you start, but Megumi's fingers speed up and the words dissolve into a moan.
"Keep your eyes on me," Megumi says. His other hand grips your hip. Yuji fucks up into you and Megumi’s fingers work your clit. “Please.”
It feels too good, and that’s part of the problem.
"I can't—"
"You can—please.” Megumi's voice is almost harsh. His fingers don't let up.
Yuji makes a sound low in his throat. "We should—maybe we should slow down—"
But he doesn't stop moving. His cock is still hard inside you, still hitting deep, and your thighs are shaking with each stroke.
You start moving on instinct, rolling your hips up and down on his length, feeling him slide deeper with each motion. Your thighs burn as you bounce, finding a rhythm that makes your breath catch.
"Ah—ah—"
Yuji's hands suddenly grip under your thighs, spreading your legs wider apart, and he plants his feet on the bed to get leverage. He starts fucking up into you harder, controlling your pace, pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts up to meet you.
"There you are, baby," he groans, his voice rough with need. "There's my pretty girl—"
Your eyes flutter, rolling back as pleasure crashes through you. The sounds coming out of your mouth are desperate and needy. You’re mewling and gasping his name as he fucks up into you harder and faster.
"Gonna come for me, aren't you?" Yuji's voice is sweet despite the intensity. "Come on, baby. I can feel you getting close—"
Megumi's mouth leaves your breast, and suddenly his hand is in your hair, rough and possessive. He turns your head toward him with a grip that's almost demanding, and then his mouth is on yours. It’s hard and hungry and completely consuming.
He kisses you like he wants to devour you, swallowing your moans greedily, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his other hand keeps circling your clit with relentless precision. His fingers in your hair keep your head exactly where he wants it, tilted toward him.
Your muscles are drawn tight, every ending is nerve firing. Yuji's cock is so deep inside of you, hitting that spot over and over, and Megumi's fingers work your clit faster and faster. His kiss cuts off your moans swallowing them and you can't think, you can't do anything but feel both of them.
"Mmph—" you try to moan against his lips, but he just kisses you harder, his hand moving in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
The tension coils tighter in your core. Your thighs are trembling as you bounce on Yuji's cock, your body moving between both of them, with Yuji fucking up into you while Megumi controls your head.
"I'm—oh my god—" you gasp when Megumi finally breaks the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, his breathing is as ragged as yours is.
"I know," Yuji says quietly from under you, and there's brokenness in his voice. "I know baby—“
Your orgasm is so close you can taste it. Every muscle in your body is pulled tight, clenching and releasing. Megumi's fingers circle and press, relentlessly, and Yuji's cock is so deep inside you that every thrust sends lightning up your spine. You're caught between them, and there's nothing else, just the two of them and the pressure building and building inside you.
"Please—" you beg.
"Let go," Megumi says, and it sounds like a command. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head back slightly, forcing you to look at him.
"Kiss her again, Megumi," Yuji breathes out desperately from under you, his voice is rough and almost broken. It sounds like the words are torn from him, like he can't believe he's saying it but needs it so badly he has to. He grits it out like a plea. "Please—"
Megumi's eyes flash, and then he's pulling your face toward his again, kissing you harder and more passionately than before. Both his hands grip your face roughly, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his tongue slides against yours. It’s messy and desperate.
At the same time, Yuji fucks up into you even deeper and harder, his hips snapping up with more intensity. He's watching everything, his eyes are fixed on the sight of Megumi's mouth on yours, on the way your body moves between them, on the way you're completely overwhelmed.
Your tongues slide against each other in the kiss, messy and wet, and you can taste the desperation on him. Megumi swallows your moans greedily, his hands never leaving your face, keeping you pinned to him as Yuji pounds up into you from below.
Yuji tips his head back in pleasure, his neck exposed, but his eyes stay fixed on you and Megumi, watching the kiss, watching you and Megumi. His jaw clenches as he watches, and then he groans out, "Shit—that's so fucking hot—"
The moment those words leave his mouth, your second orgasm crashes through you. Your whole body goes rigid, and you hear yourself crying out against Megumi's lips, desperate and shattered.
"Ah—ah—fuck—"
You clench around Yuji's cock, and he groans, his hips jerking up into you as you come. Megumi's hands are still tangled in your hair, keeping you close as your body shakes and trembles.
"That's it," Megumi breathes against your neck.
You're still trembling, barely coherent from the orgasm, when Yuji pulls you off his cock. You whimper at the loss, but then his hands are guiding you down, positioning you, and his voice is wrecked.
"Taste her—" His voice breaks. "She's so fucking sweet—taste her Megumi."
Megumi moves without hesitation. He lies back on the bed under you, and his hands find your hips, pulling you forward, positioning you on all fours above him.
"Come here," he says, and his hands slide to your ass, pulling you down toward his face.
The first touch of his tongue makes you gasp. His tongue is hot and demanding, licking through your folds, circling your clit, dipping inside you to taste where Yuji's been. He doesn't hold back.
"Oh god—" Your arms shake, barely holding you up.
His fingers dig into the skin of your ass, pulling you down harder onto his mouth. You can feel his groan vibrate against you, and it makes your thighs tremble.
Yuji moves in front of you, his cock right there and it’s still hard, flushed, leaking. His hand tangles in your hair, not gentle, and he guides himself to your lips.
"Open," he says, and you do.
He pushes into your mouth deeply immediately, and you moan around him. The sound is muffled by his cock, and Yuji's whole body shudders.
"Fuck—" He thrusts deeper. "—Do that again—"
Megumi's tongue flicks over your clit and you moan louder. The vibration travels through your throat, and Yuji's hips thrust forward. You gag, adjust, then take him deeper.
"Oh god baby—that’s so fucking deep—"
His hand tightens in your hair and he starts fucking your mouth. You're pinned between them. Megumi's mouth working you from below, Yuji's cock filling your throat from above.
Megumi's tongue circles your clit, fucks into you, licks through your folds. His hands spread your ass wider, pulling you down onto his face.
Every time he makes you moan, your throat spasms around Yuji's cock.
"Fuck—Megumi—" Yuji's words tumble out. "Just like that—keep doing that—make her moan—"
You're drooling now, spit sliding down your chin. The wet sounds mix with your muffled moans and Megumi's groans.
"Oh god—your throat—fuck—"
Megumi's tongue presses flat against your clit and you scream around Yuji's cock. He curses and thrusts harder, hitting the back of your throat. You gag and swallow reflexively.
"Yes—swallow me—fuck—"
Your eyes are watering and your jaw is aching. Every thrust, every inch threatening to take your breath away. You swallow around him when he goes deep, moaning from what Megumi's doing to you.
Megumi slides two fingers inside you while his tongue works your clit. You sob around Yuji's cock.
"She's close—" Yuji watches you. "Fuck—Megumi make her come—please—"
Megumi's fingers curl up, finding that perfect spot inside you. His tongue flicks quickly over your clit. The pressure coils tighter in your core.
"Please—make her come—I need it—"
Your third orgasm crashes through you. Your whole body locks up, and you're screaming around Yuji's cock. The sound is muffled. Your throat spasms and tightens around him.
"Fuck—" Yuji holds your head down as he comes. You can feel his cock pulsing in your throat, the heat of his cum as he empties himself. You swallow it all, your throat working around him as your own orgasm pulses through you.
"Fuckkk—so fucking good baby—"
Megumi doesn't stop. His tongue keeps licking you, and your thighs are closing around his head. His hands grip your ass tighter.
When Yuji finally pulls out, you're gasping for air, drool and cum on your lips. He immediately cups your face with both hands and starts kissing you everywhere. Your forehead, your cheeks, and finally your swollen lips.
"I love you," he whispers between kisses. "I love you so much—you're so amazing, god—"
His thumbs stroke your cheeks. "Are you okay? Was that too much?"
"Yes—" you gasp. "I'm okay—I'm—oh god—"
Megumi's tongue circles your clit again and you whimper.
Yuji kisses you one more time, then sits back against the headboard. His eyes are dark, fixed on where Megumi is still between your legs. His hand moves to his cock, which is already starting to harden again.
He strokes himself slowly, watching.
"Baby—" It comes out as a whimper. He's stroking faster now. "I want to watch—you and Megumi—can he—?"
Megumi's tongue flicks over your clit and you moan. "I—god—yes—"
Megumi slides out from under you. His chin is wet. He's breathing hard, and when he looks at Yuji he can't finish the question.
"Yuji—are you—"
Yuji looks right at him, his hand still stroking. "Megumi—fuck her—" He swallows. "Please fuck her hard—I need to see it."
Megumi moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He pushes in with one thrust and you both groan.
He goes completely still.
His hands tighten on your hips. When you glance back at him, his eyes are fixed on you like he can't believe this is real. His jaw clenches, his whole body restrained. Then he moves.
"Fuck—so wet—so fucking tight—"
Each thrust is deep enough to make your whole body jolt forward. He's hitting so deep you can feel it in your stomach.
Yuji moves closer, his hand cupping your face, tilting your head up so you're looking at him. His other hand is still working his cock, stroking faster as he watches Megumi pound into you.
His hand stills. He looks at you, then back at Megumi. Just watches him.
"Look at me." His thumb strokes your cheek. "Want to see your face—want to see what he's doing to you—"
"Oh god—" you gasp as Megumi hits that spot inside you. "Yuji—"
"I know baby—" His thumb strokes your cheek. "I can see how good he's making you feel—"
Megumi's hands grip your hips bruisingly hard, pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust. The wet sounds are obscene. You’re dripping, completely soaked, and he's driving into you like he can't get deep enough.
"Fuck—" Megumi groans. "She's so fucking tight—"
Yuji moans, his hand moving on his cock again. "Yeah? Tell me—tell me how she feels—"
"Perfect—" Megumi's rhythm falters. "So fucking perfect—so wet I can feel it dripping—"
Your fourth orgasm builds fast. Yuji's watching your face, his own breathing getting heavier.
"You're close." It's not a question. "Come for him baby—let me watch you come on his cock—"
Megumi's hand slides around to your clit, circling, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm hits you hard, your pussy clamping down on Megumi's cock as you scream.
"Fuck—yes—" Yuji groans, watching you fall apart, his hand working his cock. "So fucking hot—"
Megumi fucks you through it, and you're shaking and gasping and completely wrecked. When it finally subsides, you collapse forward onto your elbows, barely able to hold yourself up.
Megumi doesn't pull out. He keeps moving, slower now, deep and deliberate. You can feel how swollen and sensitive you are, every thrust making you whimper.
Yuji moves closer, watching Megumi fuck you slowly from behind. Then he leans over you both, his hand sliding up to cup the back of Megumi's neck, and pulls him into a kiss.
Yuji is kissing Megumi deeply, tongues sliding together, both of them groaning into each other's mouths while Megumi's cock is still buried inside you.
Megumi's rhythm stutters, his hips jerking forward harder, and Yuji breaks the kiss with a gasp.
"Fuck—" Yuji's voice is wrecked. He moves behind Megumi, his hands sliding over Megumi's back, feeling the muscles flex with each thrust. "Like that—just like that—"
His hands move to Megumi's hips, guiding him, pushing him to fuck you harder. Megumi responds immediately, his thrusts becoming deeper, more forceful, and you cry out.
"Yes—" Yuji groans, watching where Megumi disappears inside you. "Fuck her harder—she loves it—"
Megumi's breathing is ragged, his control is slipping, and he pounds into you exactly how Yuji guides him. The intensity makes your arms shake, barely able to hold yourself up.
"Let her ride you," Yuji says roughly, his hands still on Megumi's hips. "I want to see her on top of you."
Megumi pulls out and you whimper at the loss. He lies back on the bed, his cock hard and glistening, and his eyes are wild as he looks at you.
"Come here," he says, voice rough.
You straddle him on shaking legs, positioning yourself over his cock. When you sink down onto him, you both groan. The angle is different. It’s deeper, and you have to brace your hands on his chest as you start to move.
You set the pace at first, rolling your hips slowly, finding the rhythm. Megumi's hands grip your waist, his jaw clenched as he watches you move on top of him. His muscles are tense, barely letting you control it.
But it doesn't last.
His hips thrust up to meet yours, and suddenly he's taking over. He’s driving the rhythm from underneath, pulling you down hard onto his cock. You gasp as the pace becomes frantic, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.
"Fuck—" His voice breaks. "You're so—fuck—"
He pulls you down into a kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His hand grips the back of your head, holding you exactly where he wants you.
"I've been thinking about you," he gasps against your mouth, his hips still driving up into you. "For months—fuck—watching you—"
You moan and he kisses you harder.
"Every night—listening to you through the wall—hearing you moan—hearing him fuck you—" He groans, his cock hitting deep inside you. "I'd touch myself—imagining it was me—imagining you like this—"
"Megumi—" You're breathless.
"Watching you during training—thinking about bending you over—fuck—making you scream my name—fuck—"
His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him as you ride him. "You're so fucking—so beautiful—I've wanted this for so long—"
He kisses you again, harder, his tongue sliding against yours as his cock fills you. You're both moving frantically now, chasing pleasure, and you can feel another orgasm building.
Then you feel Yuji behind you. His hands slide over your back, gentle and grounding, and then you feel the slick press of his cock against your ass.
"Baby—" His voice is soft. "Can I—?"
"Yes—" You gasp against Megumi's mouth. "Please—"
Yuji pushes in slowly, carefully, and the stretch makes you cry out. You're so full, with both of them inside you at once.
"Oh god—" Yuji's voice shakes. "So tight—fuck—"
They find a rhythm together, Megumi thrusting up as Yuji pushes in, filling you completely. You're pinned between them, unable to do anything but take it, and the pressure builds fast.
"I can't—" You're sobbing now. "Too much—"
"You can," Megumi says, pulling you down harder onto his cock. "Please—"
Yuji's hand slides around to your clit, circling, and that's all it takes. Your final orgasm rips through you. You scream, your whole body convulsing, clenching around both of them.
"Fuck—fuck—" Megumi's hips jerk erratically, and then he's coming too. His hands grip your face, pulling you into a kiss as he empties himself inside you, and in the middle of his orgasm he moans against your mouth: "Fuck—I fucking love you—"
The words hit you like a punch to the chest. He kisses you harder, deeper, his arms wrapping around you as his cock pulses inside you.
You collapse onto his chest, trembling and gasping. His dick is still inside you, softening slowly, and he's kissing you so gently now. Soft, tender kisses on your lips, your cheeks, your forehead. His arms are wrapped around you, holding you close, and he's murmuring things you can barely hear.
Yuji is still moving behind you, his rhythm erratic. He grips your hips as he fucks into your ass harder.
"Oh fuck—did he fill you up baby—ah—fuuckk—"
He pounds into you harder, chasing his release, and you're so sensitive you're whimpering with every thrust. Megumi holds you through it, his hands stroking your back, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.
"FUUUUCKKK—" Yuji's whole body goes rigid, and then he's coming—the longest, most intense orgasm he's ever had. "OH GOD—LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH BABY—"
He groans and moans through it, his hips jerking with each pulse, you feel the warm ropes of cum filling you with each thrust, and then he collapses onto the bed next to you both, breathing hard.
You're still on top of Megumi, completely spent, his softening cock still inside you. He's kissing you so gently. It’s soft, loving kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, holding you like you're precious.
Yuji watches you both, his chest heaving, and his voice comes out breathless and awed: "You guys look so fucking good together I can't stand it."
You turn your head to look at him, and he's watching you both with open tenderness.
Megumi's hand cups your cheek, turning you back to him, and he kisses you again. Soft and sweet this time, no urgency, just tenderness.
"We should—" You try to form words. "We should probably talk about—"
"Tomorrow," Yuji says firmly, his hand reaching out to stroke your back. "We'll talk tomorrow. Right now just—" He swallows hard. "Just stay like this."
Megumi carefully shifts you both, rolling onto your sides so you're facing each other, his arms still wrapped around you. His cock slips out and you both wince at the sensitivity.
Yuji presses against your back, his arm draping over both of you. You're sandwiched between them, warm and held, and it feels safe.
"This is going to be so weird tomorrow," you mumble into Megumi's chest.
"Probably," Megumi agrees, but his hand is still stroking your hair gently.
"I'm not forgetting this happened," Yuji says, and there's defiance in his voice. "Just so we're clear. I'm absolutely not pretending this didn't happen."
"Yuji—" you start.
"Nope." He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Not doing it. This happened. We're dealing with it. Tomorrow."
Megumi makes a soft sound that might be agreement or amusement. His thumb strokes your cheek, and when you look up at him his expression is so tender it makes your chest ache.
"Get some sleep," he murmurs.
"You're being really affectionate," you whisper, a soft smile in your voice.
"I know." His tone is measured and controlled. It’s the Megumi everyone knows. But his arms don't loosen around you.
Yuji makes a low, amused sound from behind you. "Fushiguro finally found one person he actually lets in," he says softly, his voice warm with affection and gentle teasing. "Look at you. All soft and cuddly."
"Shut up," Megumi says, but there's no bite to it. If anything, his hold on you tightens slightly.
A soft laugh escapes you, exhausted and warm. “You two are ridiculous."
"You love us," Yuji says confidently, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
You don't correct him.
Megumi's breathing is already evening out, his body relaxing into sleep, but his arms stay wrapped around you. Yuji is warm against your back, his face buried in your hair, and you can feel him smiling.
"Love you," Yuji whispers.
"Love you too," you whisper back.
Megumi's arms tighten slightly, and you think maybe he's not quite asleep yet. But he doesn't say anything, he just holds you closer, his thumb continuing its gentle stroke against your skin.
You fall asleep like that, tangled together, warm against each other, completely wrecked. Tomorrow would be complicated. But tonight, you're exactly where you want to be.
playfighting your bf satoru is like trying to inconvenience a mountain that won't leave your face alone.
genre: fluff
cw: established relationship, power struggle, wrestling teasing, playfulness, domesticity, kissing, biting
wc: ~2k
you had him. you definitely had him—at least, that’s what a normal distribution of weight, physics, and human biomechanics suggested.
“oh no,” satoru drawled, not even moving. “i’m being attacked. whatever shall I do?”
“you can start by losing—”
he was standing up like you weighed absolutely nothing.
your arms locked tighter around his neck from behind, your legs snaking around his waist, all your might thrown into the tackle, but satoru didn’t budge. not an inch. it was like you were trying to wrestle a marble statue that happened to be wearing something way out of most people’s price range.
“go. down.”
satoru laughed at you, that bright and unfair you-are-so-screwed chuckle slipping right out of him.
no matter. you ignored the sound, holding your ground as you put your back into the motion, digging your heels into his hips, trying anything you could muster to throw him off balance.
satoru stood up straighter, not an ounce of wobble in him.
one second you were clinging to his back like a koala with a vendetta, the next, you were fully dangling, feet far off the ground, one of his big hands casually gripping the back of your thigh to keep you from slipping.
“form’s good,” he mused, bouncing you once like he was testing a new dumbbell. “little shaky on the follow-through, though. seven out of ten.”
“PUT ME DOWN—”
you thrashed. you squirmed. you tried to hook your ankle around anything to drag him down—feet only meeting the air.
“alright.” satoru lowered you, pressing you into his back, arms enveloping you in what could only be described as a reverse bear hug.
“this was NOT what i meant—”
“no?” he cooed, craning his neck with blindfold still in place, and pressed a loud, obnoxious smooch to your forearm.
“stop—”
“i’m rewarding the effort.”
“this isn’t—” a kiss on your bicep. “—a participation—” a kiss on your knuckles. “—sport!”
“it can be. you’re cute enough.”
you made a sound of pure, unfiltered rage.
satoru laughed, turning his back towards your couch and releasing you. your body dropped gently—annoyingly gently, bouncing on the cushions with a soft oof.
the furniture dipped once, and his shadow was already over you before you could scramble away, his elbows planting on either side of your head.
“y’know,” he said, voice dropping into something silky and quiet. “winner gets real kisses.”
your heart did a stupid little backflip.
“you’re not gonna win,” you lied, breathless.
he tilted his head, his lips pulling into that slow, dangerous, i-know-something-you-don’t grin.
“then stop me, baby.”
and you tried.
you bucked your hips in an incredible attempt to flip him, used your thighs to scissor his waist and reverse the position he had pinned you down into. he let you get almost there—let you think you had an opening—and then just shifted his weight with maddeningly little effort.
satoru’s weight settled on you like an iron anchor, no neutral barrier keeping you at arm's length—just the raw, menacing density of a guy who knew he was completely unshakeable.
your body was giving its heart and soul in an attempt to grapple him; his, on the other hand, had yet to register your attempt as something worth exerting himself over.
but before he could claim his victory, you did the only logical thing left in your arsenal. your teeth came down on the high collar of his t-shirt.
“ow! hey! unfair conduct! referee!” satoru squawked, flinching just enough for you to yank one hand free.
“no rules in street fighting!”
satoru grinned, his hand catching your wrist mid-air with scary speed. “oh, so we’re playing dirty now? excellent.”
you could barely process the wicked tilt of his mouth as he adjusted his grip—sliding one arm under your lower back and the other under your knees, scooping you up like a barbell made out of fury, bicep-curling your entire body into the air like a horizontal maraca. no effort, no strain, not even a slight change in his breathing.
“...three,” he counted, lowering you an inch before pumping you back above eye level. “four... mind-muscle connection...”
“SATORU—”
“not bad,” he mused, holding you at the peak of the curl as if testing your weight distribution. “you’re about... three bags of rice. four if i count the spite,”
“LET GO—”
he didn’t. you were beginning to suspect ‘training to failure’ wasn’t a concept satoru had ever personally encountered—and if asked, you were almost certain he’d define it as 'deciding when he’d had enough.'
satoru kept your entire body suspended mid-air with that single, immovable arm of his while the other pulled his phone out from his pocket.
“...just a sec.”
he flipped it around, his thumb tapping across the screen as he skimmed a notification. you hung suspended in mid-air, watching in horrified fascination as his brow furrowed with a level of concentration he hadn’t bothered to give your entire mass during his tiny, impromptu workout session.
“ah. spam email.” he slid the phone right back into his pocket, his lifting arm having not so much as trembled the entire time.
you just stared, utterly paralyzed at the cosmic audacity of a man who apparently considered you light enough to multitask around, casually managing his inbox while you were still fighting for your dignity.
satoru leaned back against the top cushion as though he'd merely paused between sets, locking eyes with your stunned expression.
“rule number one of fighting the strongest,” he chirped up, wearing that impossibly pleased and unrepentant grin. “don’t bite the equipment. it voids the warranty.”
“you’re ridiculous—!” you swung a leg over, trying to find leverage, still very much airborne, held aloft by an arm that felt like steel in human form.
“i don’t know. i kinda like it up here. fine view," he said, pulling his blindfold down past his nose. the striking glow of his eyes locked onto yours, sparkling with unveiled mischief. “can’t chomp on me from all the way up there.”
you glared down at him, but the sheer absurdity of the situation—and the way his t-shirt stretched over his shoulder where your teeth marks probably still were—cracked your composure. a snort escaped you.
“you have a mark on your shoulder.”
that made him pause for a second—barely enough to notice had you not been looking for it.
“yeah?” he tilted his head, his silvery hair falling across his brow. “are you gonna kiss it better?”
“i was thinking more along the lines of biting it again.”
the sigh that left satoru’s body was almost too entertained. he lowered you slowly, almost teasingly, letting your feet brush the floor before he let go entirely. you dropped the last inch, landing on your own two feet, ready to lunge—
and then he was behind you.
you didn’t even see him move as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, chin hooking over your shoulder. his chest barely moved behind you, exasperatingly relaxed despite the fact that you were still actively trying to escape. “missed me?”
“YOU—” you elbowed backward, but he absorbed the impact, tsking as he tightened his grip around your waist and dragging you back until you were flush against his chest.
“illegal move number two: strike to the kidney. that’s a five-minute penalty in the kiss bin.”
“there is no kiss bin!”
“there is now,” satoru hummed, resting his heavy chin right on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into the side of your neck. “i’m the founder, president, and sole referee. your sportsmanship is atrocious today.”
you huffed, trying to pry his thick arms off your stomach, but it was like trying to unbend rebar. every frustrated tug only made the muscle beneath his shirt tighten beneath your hands. zero traces of any cursed technique—just surprisingly irritating lean muscle.
his heartbeat thudded slowly against your back in an unbothered rhythm, as if manhandling you across his own body didn’t even seem to qualify as light cardio.
“this isn’t over,” you pointed out, tilting your head back against his shoulder to glare at him.
“you were so brave,” satoru mumbled, his voice softening as he peered down full of affection. his lips met the side of your neck, a peck right over your pulse point. “a true warrior. a feral, teethy one.”
you shivered despite yourself—the traitorous little jolt that always happened when his mouth found the spot. you hoped he had missed it.
“ah,” he breathed against your skin, the word vibrating through you. “found it.”
“found—found what? there’s nothing to find—”
“your off switch.” another kiss, slower this time. “right... here.”
you elbowed him again, weaker this time. “there isn’t an off switch.”
his lips curved into a smile against your neck. “mhm, that’s why you just went all melty.”
“i did not go melty.”
“you went so melty. turned into a puddle of... of...” he paused, clearly searching for the most ridiculous possible comparison. “pudding.”
“that is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“no, wait.” he reconsidered. “custard. vanilla. crème brûlée if you're feeling fancy. i’m a crème brûlée kind of guy, honestly. the caramel on top?" he sighed dreamily. “chef's kiss.”
apparently that counted as enough justification for another smooch beneath the side of your jaw.
“i’m going to commit a crime.”
“you already did. general assault on a beautiful man.” he squeezed you tighter, almost cuddly now. “i’m just trying to reform you through physical love.”
“you’re not reforming anything—”
“true,” he said cheerfully. “i wanna make it worse. that’s the goal.”
you gave up struggling, slumping back against him with a defeated groan. “i despise you.”
“you love me.”
“hate.”
“love.”
“hate.”
“love love love—” he was peppering kisses along your shoulder now, each one punctuating the word. “—love—you—so—much—”
your resolve was crumbling. you could feel it, like sand slipping through your fingers.
“this doesn’t mean i forfeit,” you managed.
“no, of course not.” he was grinning against your skin—you could feel it. ”you’re still fighting. very formidable. extremely intimidating.”
“i am—”
“especially the part where you went completely boneless the second i kissed your neck.”
“THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN—”
you tried to twist away, but he just laughed and held you tighter, burying his face in your hair.
“your favorite thing is watching me suffer.”
“mm. top three. right behind sugar and my own reflection.”
you shook your head. “unreal.”
“yeah well, tell it to the judge,” satoru teased, easing his grip just enough to spin you around in his arms, ungraciously falling back against your couch with you on his lap.
you expected him to strike another cocky pose or drop another infuriating one-liner, but as his palms settled loosely on your waist, his expression softened.
the blindfold was resting around his neck, and those endless light blue eyes were looking down at you with so much fond that it made your chest ache in the best way possible.
”eight out of ten.” he said softly, his thumb tracing a slow, soothing circle against your hip.
you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest to keep up the facade. “is the referee issuing a revised statement?”
“mhm. bonus points for the biting,” he purred, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. “still went down, but at least you made it interesting.”
that smug little smirk was your final straw.
you uncrossed your arms, hands snaking upward as you pretended to adjust your posture, before your fingers hooked firmly into the black fabric of the blindfold dangling around his throat in a yank.
satoru’s head pitched forward, but he didn’t even stumble—just let himself be pulled down completely unfazed, those glowing blue eyes blinking at you in mild, amused curiosity.
“i’m trying to choke you into submission,” you informed him, holding the fabric as taut as your knuckles would allow.
“and you’re doing great, sweetface, truly,” he was all smiles, not resisting the pull at all—in fact, the tension on the blindfold was only helping close the remaining space between you, until his lips were barely an inch from yours. “except you forgot one tiny detail.”
“which is?”
“you’re directly in the kiss range.”
satoru closed the final inch.
the kiss wasn’t the victorious, smug-enough- to-power-tokyo-for-three-days-straight standard he usually went for. his lips met yours, lingering just long enough to steal whatever breath you had left.
he slid up his hands from your waist to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he pulled back just an inch, grinning down at your thoroughly dazed expression.
“ten out of ten,” he breathed against your lips, gleaming with pure satisfaction. “ref’s ruling is final.”
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ six years of tension snap when satoru’s jealousy finally explodes, leading to a heated argument that turns into a desperate, messy hookup where he makes it very clear you’ve always been his.
✿ ◞◟) gojo satoru 𝓍 female!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, porn with plot (but its mostly porn lmao), best friends to lovers, jealousy, satoru is down bad, lot of kissing, handjob, big dick!satoru, biting, begging, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, missionary + doggy style, praise, dirty talk, satoru is pathetic.
gojo satoru had been your best friend for six years, and in that time, you'd learned to accept certain things about him.
one — he was obnoxiously handsome. not in a way that felt fair or earned, but in the kind of effortless, god-cheated way that made waitresses forget his order and strangers stop him on the street to tell him he should model. satoru had white hair that never seemed to have a bad day, lashes so long they cast tiny shadows on his cheeks, and eyes so blue they looked like someone had turned up the saturation on just him while the rest of the world stayed normal.
two — satoru had very, very loud opinions, especially about anyone you dated.
you'd noticed the pattern about a year into your friendship, when you'd casually mentioned a guy from your psych class who'd asked for your number. satoru had been sprawled across your couch, stealing your fries, and he'd gone still for a second before tilting his head and saying;
"him? really? he's got weird eyebrows."
you'd blinked at him.
"his eyebrows are fine."
"they're asymmetrical," satoru had said, like that was a real crime. "and he laughs like a seal. you really want to listen to that for a whole date?"
you'd gone on the date anyway.
the guy's eyebrows had been perfectly normal, and his laugh had been genuinely nice, but satoru's comment had stuck in your head the whole time, making you hyperaware of things you never would have noticed otherwise.
that was his gift, or his curse, you hadn't decided yet.
since then, there had been others;
a very sweet and cute guy from your economics discussion group who satoru had dismissed as "way too short for you" (he’d been five eleven). a sweet philosophy major who satoru had claimed "smelled like soup" (he hadn't). a theater student who satoru had said was "obviously using you to get over his ex" (that one had actually been true, and you'd hated admitting satoru was right).
each time, satoru had been there, lounging in your space like he belonged there, making comments that ranged from mildly annoying to borderline cruel. and each time, you'd rolled your eyes and gone on the date anyway, because that was just how satoru was; opinionated, dramatic, a little bit of an asshole.
but satoru was also the one who showed up at your door at 2am with takeout when you failed a midterm.
the one who let you cry on his shoulder after the theater student broke your heart, the one who remembered how you took your coffee and which side of the bed you slept on and the name of your childhood stuffed animal.
so you let the comments slide, mostly.
but this time was different.
this time, his name was jaehyun, and you'd met him at a house party two weeks ago — the guy was in grad school for architecture, had kind eyes and a quiet laugh, and when he'd asked you out for coffee, you'd felt that little flutter in your chest that you'd almost forgotten existed.
you'd mentioned him to satoru casually, the way you always did, expecting the usual eyeroll and some stupid comment about jaehyun's haircut or his shoes.
what you got was something else entirely.
"jaehyun?" satoru had repeated, his voice doing something very strange — going flat in a way it never did. "what kind of name is jaehyun?"
"a perfectly normal one," you'd said, not looking up from your phone. "he's in grad school. architecture. really sweet."
"architecture," he had echoed, like you'd said jaehyun collected human teeth. "so he draws buildings. cool. very exciting."
you'd glanced up then, frowning.
satoru was sitting across from you at the campus coffee shop, his long legs stretched out under the table, one of his legs pressed against yours in that way he always did — like he needed to be touching you to exist properly. his sunglasses were pushed up into his white hair, and his expression was carefully, almost aggressively, neutral.
"what's your problem?" you'd asked.
"nothing," he'd said, too fast. "no problem. i'm thrilled for you. jaehyun the architect. hope he designs you a very nice house."
you'd stared at satoru for a very long moment, waiting for the usual punchline. but he'd just smiled — that big, fake, toothy smile that meant he was annoyed about something and pretending he wasn't at all.
you'd let it go. you were used to satoru being weird.
but over the next week, his weirdness escalated into something you couldn't ignore.
it started small; satoru started showing up at your apartment unannounced, which wasn't new — he'd always done that, letting himself in with the key you'd given him after he'd climbed your fire escape twice in one week. but before, he'd text first, or at least announce his presence with a dramatic "honey, i'm home!" as he walked through the door.
now, he just appeared.
you'd be doing dishes, and suddenly there he was, leaning against your doorframe like he'd been there the whole time. you'd be studying at your desk, and satoru’s chin would appear over your shoulder, his chest warm against your back, asking what you were doing in a voice that was way too low for the question he was asking.
and god, the touching.
satoru had always been touchy. you'd known that about him from the beginning — the way he'd sling an arm over your shoulders, rest his hand on your lower back when you walked through crowds, drape his legs over yours when you sat together on the couch.
he was a physical person, and you'd never minded, because it was just satoru.
but this was very different.
now, satoru’s hand found the small of your back every time you stood next to him. his fingers brushed your wrist when you handed him something. when you sat on the couch together, he pulled you against his side like you might float away if he didn't hold you down, his arm tight around your waist, his thumb tracing circles against your hip.
and it was always casual, always easy, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.
but you were aware.
painfully aware, every time his thigh pressed against yours, every time his breath ghosted across your neck when he leaned in to look at your phone, every time his fingers lingered on your skin a second longer than they needed to.
you didn't say anything. because what would you even say? 'hey, why are you touching me so much?' that sounded crazy. he was your best friend, and best friends touched.
but then came the comments…
"so when am i meeting jaehyun?" satoru asked one afternoon, sprawled across your bed while you got ready to go out.
you weren't even going out with jaehyun — you were simply going to a study group — but satoru had shown up forty minutes ago and hadn't left.
"you're not," you said, digging through your closet for a hoodie. "we've been on two coffee dates. it's not serious."
"but it could be," satoru said.
it was not a question, and his blue eyes tracked you across the room, and you felt them like a physical weight.
"maybe," you said, because you didn't know yet.
jaehyun was nice. jaehyun was safe. but jaehyun didn't make your heart race in that annoying, confusing way that made you want to scream.
satoru made a sound in the back of his throat, something low and very dissatisfied.
"jaehyun wears new balance sneakers," satoru said, like he was delivering a closing argument. "new balance! do you really want to be seen with a man who wears new balance?"
you turned to look at him.
"you're wearing crocs right now."
"crocs are ironic," satoru said, completely serious. "new balance is a cry for help."
you threw a pillow at him. he caught it without looking, grinning, and you tried to ignore how your stomach flipped.
the worst night, the night everything broke, started like this;
you had a date, a real one.
jaehyun had texted you earlier in the week asking if you wanted to go to that new ramen place downtown, the one with the hour-long wait and the broth people wrote blog posts about. you'd said yes, because you'd been wanting to go, and because jaehyun's texts made you smile, and because you were trying very hard to be normal about all of this.
you hadn't told satoru.
not because you were hiding it, exactly, but because you knew damn well — you knew — what would happen if you did; the comments, the touching, the way he'd look at you with those too-blue eyes like he was trying to communicate something you didn't have the vocabulary to understand.
so you kept it to yourself.
you got dressed in your room, you picked out a black dress that made you feel so pretty, you did your makeup carefully in the bathroom mirror. your hair fell prettily in waves around your shoulders, and you added a necklace — something delicate, something that caught the light.
you casually were just reaching for your black coat when the front door opened.
"satoru," you said, and your voice came out strangled.
your best friend stood in your doorway, and for a moment, neither of you moved. his eyes swept over you — the dress, the makeup, the necklace — and something flickered across his face; something fast and dark that he smoothed over before you could fully read it.
"going somewhere?" satoru asked, and his voice was light, but his jaw was tight.
you should have lied. you should have said study group, or grocery shopping, or literally anything else, but you'd never lied to satoru before, not about anything that mattered, and you didn't know how to start now.
"i have a date," you said. "with jaehyun."
the silence that followed was deafening.
satoru didn't move; he simply stood there, one hand still on the doorknob, his body blocking the doorway like he could physically prevent you from leaving. his white hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it, and he was wearing that black sweater you liked — the one that made his shoulders look impossibly broad.
"jaehyun," he repeated flatly.
"yes," you said, and your voice came out smaller than you intended. "jaehyun. the architect. the one i told you about."
"i know who jaehyun is," satoru said.
he completely stepped into the apartment, finally, and pushed the door closed behind him. the click of the lock was weirdly loud in the quiet room.
"i just thought you would have better taste."
the casual cruelty of it stung.
you felt it in your chest, sharp and hot, and suddenly you were so tired — tired of the comments, tired of the games, tired of the way satoru touched you and looked at you and made you feel like you were constantly missing something obvious.
"what is your problem, satoru?" you asked, and your voice cracked in the middle.
satoru blinked. "what?"
"you heard me."
you turned to face him fully, your coat completely forgotten on the couch. your hands were shaking, so you curled them into fists at your sides.
"every single time i mention someone, you have something to say. their eyebrows are wrong, they're too short, they smell like soup—"
"the soup thing was valid—"
"it wasn't!" you shouted, and satoru's mouth snapped shut. "it wasn't, satoru. and now it's jaehyun, and you won't even give him a chance. you show up at my apartment without warning, you won't stop touching me, you look at me like—"
you stopped, breathless, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.
satoru was watching you with an expression you'd never seen before. his usual mask — the arrogant smirk, the lazy confidence, the annoying playfulness — had slipped away entirely. underneath was something raw. something hungry.
"like what?" satoru asked, and his voice was low. rough. "like what, sweetheart?"
you shook your head, stepping back, and your legs hit the edge of the couch.
"this isn't fair. you can't just—you don't get to act like this every time i try to move on. you don't get to be jealous when you're the one who—"
"jealous?" satoru laughed, but there was no humor in it. "you think i'm jealous?"
"i know you are," you said. "everyone can see it, satoru. suguru sees it. shoko sees it. i'm pretty sure my neighbor across the hall sees it, and she's half-blind."
satoru's jaw tightened.
he took a step toward you, then another, until he was close enough that you could smell his cologne — something clean and warm, like cedar and vanilla. his hand came up, and you flinched, but he just tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his long fingers trailing down the side of your neck.
"and what if i am?" he murmured. "jealous. what if i can't stand the thought of you going out with him tonight? what if i've been going crazy for weeks, watching you text him, hearing you say his name—"
"then you should have said something," you whispered, and your voice broke on the last word.
satoru's hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had to look at him. his eyes were almost desperate, searching your face like he was looking for something he needed to survive.
"i'm saying something now," he said. "i can't watch you with anyone else. i can't do it. i've tried—god, i've tried—but every time you smile at someone who isn't me, i want to tear something apart."
your breath caught. "satoru—"
"so if you're gonna be with someone," he continued, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "it's gonna be me."
the words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric.
you could feel the heat of satoru’s body through your dress, could see the way his chest rose and fell with each uneven breath. his hand was still on your jaw, gentle but firm, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.
"what about jaehyun?" you asked, and it came out breathless.
satoru's eyes darkened. "fuck jaehyun."
and just like that, he kissed you.
it wasn't a soft or gentle kiss, no, it was so desperate and hungry and a little bit angry, like satoru had been holding this back for long years and the dam had finally broken.
satoru’s mouth moved against yours like he was trying to prove something, his hand sliding into your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper.
you made a little sound — something between a gasp and a moan — and satoru swallowed it. his other hand found your waist, pulling you against him until there was no space left between your bodies; he was warm and solid and everywhere, and your brain had stopped working entirely.
when he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard. satoru’s lips were swollen, his eyes dark, and there was a flush creeping up his neck that you'd never seen before.
"tell me you don't want this," he said, his voice rough. "tell me to stop, and i will. but if you don't—"
you kissed him again, because you couldn't not. because six long years of insane tension and longing and denial had been building to this moment, and now that it was here, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.
satoru groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. he walked you backward until your legs hit the couch, and then he was lowering you onto the cushions, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the fabric.
"god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your pulse point. "so fucking long. you have no idea."
"then show me," you said, and you felt him shudder.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your face like he was memorizing it.
"when i'm done with you," satoru said, and his voice was low and dark and full of promise. "you're not gonna remember jaehyun's name."
and then he kissed you again, and you stopped thinking about jaehyun entirely.
satoru's mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl inside your boots. he kissed like he did everything else — like he was competing for something, like he needed to win. but there was desperation underneath it, a trembling kind of hunger that made his hands shake slightly where they gripped your hips.
you kissed him back just as hard, your fingers tangling in his soft white hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
satoru made a sound — something low and wrecked — and his hips pressed into yours instinctively; you could feel him already, hard against your thigh through his jeans, and the knowledge sent a rush of heat straight through your core.
"bedroom," satoru murmured hungrily against your lips, and it wasn't a question.
you nodded, breathless, and then he was pulling you up off the couch, his hands never leaving your body. one palm flat against your lower back, the other cupping the side of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair. satoru kissed you the whole way down the hall — deep, messy kisses that made you stumble backward, trusting him to guide you.
he did. of course he did.
satoru’s body was a wall of heat in front of you, and his hands were everywhere; your waist, your ribs, the curve of your ass through your dress. he squeezed once, experimentally, and when you gasped into his mouth, he did it again, harder.
"fuck," he breathed, and you felt the word more than heard it.
your bedroom door was open, and he walked you through it without looking, his attention entirely on your mouth, your jaw, the spot behind your ear that made you shiver when he kissed it. the backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fell backward onto the mattress, pulling him with you.
satoru caught himself on his forearms, hovering over you, his hair falling forward into his eyes.
for a second, he just looked at you, like he couldn't believe you were here, beneath him, your dress riding up your thighs and your lipstick smeared across his mouth.
"you're so pretty," satoru said, and his voice cracked in the middle. "god, you're so pretty. i'm gonna lose my mind."
then he sat back on his heels and pulled his sweater over his head in one movement.
you'd seen satoru without a shirt before — pool parties, beach trips, that one time his dorm ac broke and he'd walked around campus in nothing but shorts for a week. but this was different; this was close, and private, and his skin was flushed pink across his chest, and you could see everything.
satoru’s shoulders were absurdly broad, tapering down to a narrow waist that made your mouth water. his chest was defined but not bulky — it was lean muscle that shifted under pale skin as he moved, and there was a thin line of white hair trailing down from his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans, and satoru’s arms were roped with veins that stood out when he flexed.
he caught you staring and smiled — not his usual cocky grin, but something softer, almost shy.
"like what you see?"
"shut up," you said, and reached for him.
satoru came down willingly, his body pressing you into the mattress, his skin warm and smooth against your palms. you ran your hands over his shoulders, down his back, feeling the way his muscles jumped under your touch.
he was all heat and tension, and when your nails dragged lightly down his spine, satoru groaned and buried his pretty face in your neck.
"you're gonna kill me," he mumbled into your skin.
you kissed his shoulder, then his collarbone, then the hinge of his jaw. your hands slid down his sides, over his ribs, and when they reached the button of his jeans, you didn't hesitate.
satoru went rigid.
your fingers fumbled with the button, then the zipper, and then you were reaching inside his boxers, and—
oh!
satoru was ridiculously big.
well… you'd known he would be, somehow — everything about satoru was excessive, after all — but fucking hell, feeling him in your hand was completely different. he was thick and hot and already leaking, and when you wrapped your fingers around him, his whole body shuddered.
"sweetheart," satoru gasped, and it came out as a whine, so high and so desperate.
his hips jerked into your hand involuntarily, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, his breathing ragged.
"fuck, fuck, please—"
you stroked him slowly, your thumb spreading the wetness at the tip, and satoru made a sound you'd never heard from him before. it was broken and insanely needy, and satoru was shaking — actually shaking — his long fingers digging into the mattress on either side of your head.
"please what?" you asked, and your own voice was rough.
he lifted his head just enough to look at you, and his eyes were glassy, pupils blown so wide there was almost no blue left.
"please don't stop," satoru whispered. "please. i've wanted this for so long. i've thought about your hands—god, i've thought about your hands so much—"
you squeezed gently, just a little firmer, and his sentence cut off in a choked moan.
satoru buried his face in your neck again, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, and you felt him pulse in your hand; his whole body was tense, thighs flexing against yours, and you could feel how close he was — the way his stomach kept twitching, the way his hips started moving in small, desperate little thrusts into your fist.
"if you keep doing that," satoru said, muffled against your shoulder, "i'm not gonna last."
you didn't answer, you just kept going — steady, intentional, your grip adjusting to the slickness now, your thumb pressing into that spot right under the head on every upstroke. you wanted to see satoru fall apart; you wanted it more than you'd ever wanted anything.
and then he did.
it wasn't loud, that was the thing.
satoru’s breath hitched, held, and then released in a long, shuddering exhale against your neck. his whole body locked up for a second — his back arching just slightly, fingers twisting in the sheets — and then he broke.
you felt it in your hand first; the pulsing, the warmth spilling over your fingers, the way satoru’s hips stuttered and stopped. then the rest of him followed; his forehead pressed harder into your shoulder, almost like he was hiding. his arms trembled on either side of you. a sound came out of him — soft, wrecked, more breath than voice — and you realized his free hand had moved to grip your hip, not guiding you, just holding on.
you kept stroking him through it, slow and gentle now, and satoru whimpered and tried sooo hard to squirm away from the sensitivity even as he pushed into your touch at the exact same time. satoru’s face was still buried in your neck, and you could feel how warm his cheeks were, how damp his lashes were against your skin.
for a moment, neither of you moved.
satoru’s breathing was uneven, hitching every few seconds like he was still coming down, and your hand was a mess, and you didn't care at all.
finally, he lifted his head.
satoru’s face was flushed, his lips parted, his hair a disaster. he looked at you like he'd never seen you before — or maybe like he was seeing you clearly for the first time.
"your turn," you said, and your voice was steadier than you felt.
he blinked slowly, like the words had to travel through fog to reach him, then something completely shifted in satoru’s expression — something dark and determined settling over his still-soft features, a spark of that familiar satoru intensity cutting through the haze.
"my turn," he agreed.
his still trembling hands easily found the hem of your dress, and he pulled it up and over your head with an impatience that made you laugh — a breathless, surprised sound that turned into a gasp when he bent down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach.
satoru worked his way up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, his lips hot and wet and reverent. when he reached your bra, he looked up at you, asking silent permission. you simply nodded, and he reached behind you to unclasp it with fingers that trembled even more.
the bra joined your dress on the floor.
satoru sat back on his heels and stared at you; his blue eyes traveled down your body — your breasts, your stomach, the lace edge of your panties — and his expression was almost painful to look at; like he was in awe, like he was in pain.
"you're so beautiful," satoru said, and his voice was hoarse. "i don't—i can't—"
"toru," you said, and your own voice was shaking. "please."
that broke whatever trance he was in.
satoru lowered himself over you again, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was softer this time, almost tender, and his hand slid down your body, over your ribs, your hip, until his fingers brushed the waistband of your panties.
he pulled back just enough to look down, and then his fingers were hooking into the lace, but he didn't pull them off. instead, satoru pushed them to the side.
the air hit your wetness, and you felt exposed and seen and so incredibly turned on you thought you might combust. satoru's breath caught when he saw you completely, and his pupils swallowed the very last of the blue.
"all this for me?" he murmured, his fingers hovering just above where you needed him.
"y-yes," you said, and you meant it more than you'd ever meant anything. "always for you."
satoru’s eyes flicked up to yours, and something shifted in his expression; something soft and fierce and terrified all at once. then he looked back down, and his middle finger slid through your folds, gathering your wetness, circling your clit in a way that made your hips jerk off the bed.
"fuck," you gasped.
"that's it," satoru murmured, his voice low and focused. "that's it, sweetheart. let me hear you."
he circled your clit again, slow and meticulous, watching your face. when you moaned — loud, involuntary — his lips curved into a smile that was almost smug, but then you moaned again, and his smile faltered, replaced by something hungrier.
"you have no idea," satoru said, his finger still moving in lazy circles. "what this sound does to me."
he pushed two fingers inside you without warning, and your back arched off the bed.
it was so good — way too good — the stretch of his long fingers, the curl of them inside you, the way he found that spot immediately like he'd been studying a map of your body for years. his thumb pressed against your clit, and he started a rhythm that made your vision blur.
"right there?" satoru asked, and his voice was strained.
"y-yes—yes, don't stop—"
and satoru didn't stop.
he fucked you with his long fingers like he really meant it, his palm slapping against your clit with every single thrust, his blue eyes never once leaving your face; he watched every expression, cataloged every sound, and satoru’s own breathing was ragged, his hips pressing into the mattress like he was fucking it just to keep himself sane.
"you're so wet," he said, almost to himself. "god, you're so wet. is this because of me? because of what i said?"
you couldn't answer — you couldn't form any words — so you simply nodded, your hands desperately gripping the sheets, your hips rocking against his hand.
"say it," satoru demanded, his fingers curling harder. "say you want this. say you want me."
"i want you," you sobbed. "i want you, toru, please—"
he added a third finger, and the stretch was almost too much, the pressure building in your core until you couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do a damn thing but feel. his thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched the rhythm of his fingers, and he leaned down to kiss your chest, your collarbone, the side of your breast.
"cum for me," he murmured against your skin. "cum on my fingers, sweetheart. i want to feel it."
you shattered.
it crashed over you in huge waves, your whole body convulsing, your nails digging into satoru's shoulders as you rode out the pleasure. he didn't stop — he kept his fingers deep inside you, he kept his thumb on your clit, working you through every aftershock until you were trembling and oversensitive and crying his name into the quiet room.
when you finally stilled, satoru pulled his fingers out slowly, carefully, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth.
he licked them clean.
his eyes never left yours as he did it, his tongue sliding between his long fingers, tasting you like you were something precious. he made a sound — low and satisfied — and when he was done, and held his fingers out to you.
"your turn," he said, echoing your words from earlier.
you took his wrist and guided his fingers to your mouth; you sucked them in, one by one, tasting yourself on his skin. his breath hitched, and his hips jerked against the mattress, and you felt powerful in a way you'd never felt before.
when you let go, satoru’s fingers were slick with your spit, and his eyes were almost black.
"f-fuck," he whispered. "fuck, sweetheart. i need—i need to be inside you. please. i can't—"
he was shaking again, his composure crumbling completely, his body vibrating with need above you. you could feel him through his jeans, hard and aching, and you wanted him so badly it was a physical pain.
"then do it," you said. "do it, satoru."
he fumbled with his jeans, pushing them down just enough, and then he was there — pressing against your entrance, the head of his huge cock nudging at your wetness, both of you breathing too fast.
"look at me," he said, and his voice was raw. "i want you to look at me when i finally make you mine."
his voice cracked on the last word, and something in your chest splintered; this wasn't just sex, you could see it in his eyes — blown wide, glassy, stripped of every layer of sarcasm and swagger he'd ever worn. satoru looked terrified and hungry and so in love it was almost painful to witness.
"toru," you whispered, and his name felt different in your mouth now.
"i know," he said, and he sounded almost sorry. "i know we should talk. i know we're gonna have to figure out what the hell we're doing tomorrow. but right now—"
he pressed forward, just barely, the head of his cock catching against your entrance, and you both gasped.
"—right now, i need to be inside you. i need to feel you cum around me. and i need you to watch me fall apart while i do it."
you nodded, unable to speak, and satoru pushed in.
just an inch — slow, so slow — and your body stretched around him, full and burning in a way that made your eyes water. satoru was so much bigger than his fingers, thicker and hotter, and the pressure was almost too much. you felt every millimeter, every pulse of his cock as it slid into you, and the sound he made — god, the sound — was something you'd never heard from him before.
it was a broken moan, high and desperate, like he was the one being split open.
"fuck," satoru choked out, his forehead dropping to yours, and his breath was hot and uneven against your lips. "f-fuck, baby. you're so—you're so tight—i can't—"
his hips stuttered, and he pushed deeper, another inch, and your nails dug into his shoulders. the stretch burned in the best way, your body adjusting to him, and you could feel every ridge, every vein, every tiny shift of his hips.
"m-more," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "please, toru. i want all of it."
satoru made a sound like a wounded animal, and then he pushed forward in one long, slow thrust until he was buried completely inside you.
you both stopped breathing.
he was everywhere, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that bordered on overwhelming, his hips flush against yours; you could feel him throbbing inside you, could feel the way his whole body trembled above you, his arms shaking where they caged you in.
"oh my god," satoru breathed, and his voice was wrecked, absolutely destroyed. "oh my god. sweetheart. you feel—i can't—there aren't words."
his eyes were squeezed shut now, his jaw tight, and you watched a bead of sweat roll down his temple. he looked like he was in pain. like he was holding on by a thread.
"toru," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "look at me."
his eyes opened, and what you saw there completely made your heart clench; satoru looked dazed, almost drunk, his pupils so blown there was only a thin ring of blue left now, his lips were parted, his breathing ragged, and when you ran your thumb across his cheekbone, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to your palm.
"you're gonna be the death of me," satoru murmured against your skin. "you know that, right? i've been imagining this for six years, and it's still—it's so much better than i ever—" he cut himself off with a shaky exhale. "i'm not gonna last. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, but i can't—"
"then don't," you said. "move, toru. please move."
well… he didn't need to be told twice.
satoru pulled out slowly — agonizingly slowly — until only the tip remained inside you, and then he pushed back in, just as slow, just as deep, his eyes never left yours, watching your face as he bottomed out again, and the expression on his face was one of pure, reverent awe.
"that's it," he whispered. "god, that's it. you're taking me so well, sweetheart. so fucking well."
he did it again, and again, each thrust was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every sensation; the drag of his huge cock against your walls, the way you clenched around him, the little sounds you made every time he pushed back in. his hands roamed your body — your waist, your ribs, your breasts — touching you like he was afraid you'd disappear.
"you're so beautiful," satoru said, and his voice was thick. "i've wanted to touch you like this for so long. you have no idea how many times i've jerked off thinking about you. thinking about these sounds you're making right now."
satoru’s hips snapped forward a little harder, and you moaned at that — loud and unfiltered — and satoru's eyes rolled back for just a second.
"yeah," he breathed. "yeah, like that. i want to hear you. i want everyone to hear you. i want jaehyun to hear you and know—know that you're mine."
the possessiveness in his voice should have scared you, but instead, it made you clench around him, and satoru groaned so loudly you felt it vibrate through his chest.
"you like that?" he asked, his pace picking up slightly. "you like it when i get jealous? when i talk about how you're mine?"
"fuck—yes," you admitted, because you couldn't lie anymore.
not with your best friend inside you, not with his skin against yours, not with the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
satoru's smile was sharp and hungry.
"good. because you are mine. you have been since the day you let me climb your fire escape."
satoru kissed you then — it was deep and messy, his warm tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips. he was fucking you slowly but deeply now, each thrust pushing you up the bed a little, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer.
that changed everything.
the angle made him hit something inside you — something that made stars burst behind your eyes, and you cried out against his mouth, and satoru swallowed the sound, his hips stuttering before he found a new rhythm; faster, harder, still deep, but no longer gentle.
"there?" satoru gasped, pulling back just enough to look at your face. "is that the spot? right there?"
you couldn't answer, you could only nod, your hands fisting in his white hair, pulling him down so you could bite his lower lip. and satoru moaned loudly, and his hips snapped forward so hard the headboard banged against the wall.
"oh—f-fuck, sweetheart," satoru panted. "you're gonna make me come so fast. i can't—i've been waiting too long for this. you feel too good."
his hand slid between your bodies, and his thumb found your clit, and you nearly screamed.
he circled it in tight, fast motions, exactly the way you needed, and the combination of his enormous cock hitting that sweet spot inside you and his thumb on your clit was too much. the pleasure built so quickly it was almost painful, your whole body tightening like a coil about to snap.
"that's it," satoru murmured, his voice low and dark and completely gone. "cum for me again, sweetheart. i want to feel you cum on my cock this time. i want to feel you squeeze me while i'm inside you."
his thumb pressed harder, his hips moved faster, and he was looking at you — watching every micro-expression on your face with an intensity that should have been overwhelming.
but all you could feel was him. all you could hear was the sound of his breathing, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together, the little whimpers that fell from his lips every time you clenched around him.
"i'm close," you managed, your voice breaking. "oh my god, toru, i'm so close—"
"yeah?"
satoru was practically fucking you in earnest now, his composure completely gone; his hair was a mess, his face flushed, his lips swollen from your kisses.
"you gonna cum for me? gonna soak my cock, sweetheart? i want to feel it. i want to feel you—"
you came.
it surged through you without warning, your whole body arching off the bed, your nails raking down satoru’s back as you convulsed around him. satoru groaned — a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere primal — and his hips kept moving, kept thrusting, working you through every second of your orgasm.
"oh, fuck," he gasped. "oh, fuckfuckfuck, sweetheart—you're squeezing me so tight—i can't—i'm gonna—"
satoru pulled out just enough that you felt the first pulse of his release, hot and sudden, and then he pushed back in and buried himself to the hilt as he came inside you.
his whole body shook, his arms gave out, and satoru collapsed on top of you, his face buried deep in your neck, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he emptied himself into you. he made sounds you'd never heard him make — broken, desperate sounds, almost like sobs — and you felt each pulse of his cock, each wave of his release, hot and filling.
"g-god," satoru whispered against your sweaty skin. "god, sweetheart. i love—i—"
he didn't finish the sentence, maybe he couldn't, maybe he was too far gone.
you held him, your fingers threading through his sweaty hair, your legs still wrapped around his waist. his cock was still inside you, softening slightly but not pulling out, and you could feel his cum leaking out around him, warm and wet.
for a long moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, the only sounds were your breathing, slowly evening out, and the distant hum of the city outside your window.
satoru's hand was tracing patterns on your hip, lazy and absent, and you thought maybe he'd fallen asleep. maybe you'd get a moment to process what had just happened.
then satoru shifted.
his hips rolled forward, just slightly, and you felt him twitch inside you.
"satoru," you said, your voice hoarse.
he lifted his head, and his eyes met yours; they were still dark, still blown wide, but there was something new there now. something hungry and determined and a little bit feral.
"i'm not done," satoru said, and his voice was rough. "i'm not even close to done."
he pulled out slowly, and you felt the loss of him acutely — the sudden emptiness, the trickle of satoru’s cum that slid down your trembling thigh. but before you could mourn it, he was flipping you over, pulling you onto your hands and knees, his hands gripping your hips.
"i've been thinking about this position for years," satoru murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "thinking about how deep i could get. how loud you'd be."
you heard him spit into his hand — you heard the wet sound of him stroking himself — and then he was pressing against your entrance again, already hard, already ready.
"toru," you said again, and it came out as a pathetic whimper. "i'm still sensitive—"
"i know," satoru said, and he sounded almost apologetic. almost. "but you feel too good, sweetheart. and i'm so fucking obsessed with you. i can't stop. i don't want to stop."
he pushed in, and you both moaned.
it was different from the first time; you were still so wet, still so stretched, still so full of his cum, and satoru slid in easier now, way deeper, until you felt him in your stomach.
satoru paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.
"baby, tell me when," satoru said, his voice strained. "tell me when you're ready."
you took a breath, then another, the sensitivity was fading, replaced by a familiar ache, a familiar need.
"now," you said. "move now."
and he did.
satoru started slow again, but this time it was different.
this time, he was savoring; his hands completely roamed your body — your back, your ass, your hips — and he leaned over to press kisses along your spine. his huge cock dragged against your walls in a way that made your eyes roll back, and he was murmuring things against your skin; things you couldn't quite understand, things that sounded like praise and worship and desperation all at once.
"you're so perfect," he breathed. "so perfect for me. this pussy was made for me. you know that? made for my cock."
satoru’s pace quickened, his hips slapping against yours, and the sound was obscene — wet and loud and relentless. he reached around and found your swollen clit again, rubbing in tight circles, and you sobbed with the overstimulation of it.
"too much?" he asked, but he didn't stop. "or not enough?"
"m-more," you gasped. "more, toru—please—"
he gave you more.
satoru fucked you harder, faster, deeper, his grip on your hips so tight you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. his breathing was ragged, his moans were loud, and he was talking — talking constantly, a stream of consciousness that was half dirty and half desperate.
"look at you. taking me so well. you're so wet. so fucking wet. is this all for me? tell me it's all for me."
"it's all for you," you said, and you meant it.
satoru groaned loudly, and his hips snapped forward even harder, and you felt a second orgasm building — faster this time, sharper, pushed along by the overstimulation and the sound of his voice and the way he was fucking you like he needed you to survive.
"cum with me this time," he said, his voice breaking. "i want to feel you cum while i'm filling you up again. i want to feel you squeeze every drop out of me."
his thumb pressed down on your clit, and his hips lost their rhythm, becoming sloppy and desperate, and you knew he was close, and so were you. so close—
"now," satoru gasped. "now, sweetheart—"
you came together.
it was messy and loud and overwhelming, your body clenching around him as he spilled inside you again, his hips jerking erratically as he rode out his orgasm. you collapsed onto the bed, and he followed you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside you, still pulsing.
neither of you moved.
satoru’s breath was hot against your ear, his heart pounding against your back, and you could feel him — getting hard again, still inside you, still not pulling out.
"one more," he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice, even through the exhaustion. "just one more. and then maybe we can talk about how i'm in love with you."
you laughed — a breathless, surprised sound — and satoru kissed your shoulder, your neck, the curve of your jaw.
"i'm serious, baby," satoru said, his hips rolling forward again, slowly. "i've been in love with you for years. and now that i've had you like this—"
he pushed deeper, and you moaned.
"—i'm never letting you go."
satoru’s hand slid under you, finding your clit again, and you realized he actually meant it.
♡ summary: after two terrible days, all you want is to use your boyfriend as a mattress. unfortunately for you, gojo satoru is very easily distracted.
♡ warnings: 18+ mdni • explicit sexual content • established relationship • oral (f!receiving) • multiple orgasms • piv sex • praise • possessive language • dirty talk • creampie • fluff
♡ author’s note: this was inspired by a post from @silentlunarkiss based on this fanart 😭 i screenshotted it immediately because i knew i wanted to write it, then somehow lost the original post before i could tag them. finally found them again!! ♡
banner by @pixopix
The apartment is quiet when you finally drag yourself through the door, your work bag feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. Your feet are killing you, your brain is fried, and all you want is to collapse into bed and not move for approximately twelve hours.
You kick off your shoes and shuffle down the hallway, already pulling your hair out of the bun you'd done up that morning, now mostly falling out on its own. The bedroom door is cracked open, and when you push it wider, you find exactly what you were hoping for.
Satoru is sprawled across the bed like a starfish, still wearing his teaching clothes—black pants and a rumpled button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His blindfold is tossed carelessly on the nightstand, and his white hair is an absolute disaster, sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all day. His eyes are closed, one arm thrown over his face.
He looks as exhausted as you feel.
"Rough day?" you ask, and he groans without moving.
"The first years tried to fight a curse three grades above their level because Yuji said it 'looked easy,'" he mumbles into his arm. "I had to bail them out. Again. Then Megumi and Nobara got into an argument about mission protocol that somehow turned into a full-blown screaming match about who ate whose leftovers from the fridge. I had to separate them like they were toddlers."
Despite your exhaustion, you snort. "Sounds about right."
"And then," he continues, finally moving his arm to peek at you with one brilliant blue eye, "Yaga cornered me about paperwork I was supposed to file last week. Do you know how much I hate paperwork?"
"I'm aware." You're already moving toward the bed, unbuttoning your work pants. "You complain about it literally every time."
"Because it's the worst. I'm the strongest sorcerer alive. I shouldn't have to file incident reports."
"Mm-hmm, very tragic." You shimmy out of your pants and leave them in a heap on the floor—a problem for future you. Your blouse follows, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. "My day was also shit, for the record."
"Yeah?" He's watching you now with lazy interest, too tired to even sit up but still tracking your movements.
"My boss is an idiot, the coffee machine broke, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting that could've been an email, and Janet from accounting passive-aggressively cc'd the entire department on an email about someone stealing her lunch. Which, for the record, I didn't do, but she definitely thinks I did based on the way she was glaring at me."
"Want me to hollow purple Janet from accounting?" he offers, completely serious.
"Tempting, but no." You crawl onto the bed and without ceremony, flop directly on top of him, your full weight pressing him into the mattress. You bury your face in his chest with a long, dramatic groan. "I'm dead. This is me, dead."
"Hi, dead. I'm also dead." His arms come around you automatically, wrapping you up even though you're both too tired to really move. "We're both corpses now. This is our life."
"Our death," you correct, muffled against his shirt.
"Our death," he agrees solemnly.
For a moment, you just lie there, breathing in sync. He smells like his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the training grounds—sweat and grass and something distinctly him. It's comforting in a way you can't quite articulate. This exhausted, collapsed-together moment feels like home.
His hand starts moving on your back, slow and gentle, rubbing up and down your spine. It feels incredible, and you make an embarrassing sound of contentment that you'll deny later.
"You're tense as hell," he murmurs, fingers working at a knot between your shoulder blades.
"You try dealing with Janet's accusatory emails and see how relaxed you are," you mumble, but you're already melting into his touch.
"I'd just block her."
"You can't block coworkers, Satoru."
"You can if you're powerful enough." His hand slides lower, still rubbing your back, and you feel some of the day's tension starting to ease. "This okay?"
"It's perfect. You're my favorite human pillow."
"Just human pillow? Not devastatingly handsome boyfriend who you're lucky to have?"
"That's implied," you say, but you're smiling against his chest.
His other hand joins the first, both of them working at your tired muscles, and you honest-to-god almost start purring. This is exactly what you needed. Just this—him, the quiet apartment, his hands on you, the weight of the day slowly lifting.
But then his hands start to wander.
It's subtle at first. His fingers drift from your back to your sides, tracing the curve of your waist. Then lower, skimming over your hips. And then—
He grabs your ass. Both hands, full handfuls, squeezing appreciatively.
"Really?" you ask, lifting your head to look at him. "We're both dead, remember? Corpses don't grope."
"I'm a very motivated corpse." He squeezes again, shameless, and there's a grin tugging at his lips now. "Can't help it. You're lying on top of me in your underwear. What did you expect?"
"Self-control? Restraint? Basic human decency?"
"Baby, you know me better than that." His hands are still kneading your ass, and despite your sass, you can feel heat starting to pool low in your belly. "Besides, you love it."
"I love that you can't even wait until we've recovered from our respective terrible days before getting handsy?"
"Exactly." He's fully grinning now, that cocky, insufferable grin that makes you want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. "Your ass is the best stress relief. It's science."
"That's not science, you idiot."
"It's my science."
You snort, but you're not moving away. His hands are warm and familiar, and honestly, after the day you've had, this isn't the worst thing in the world. You let your head drop back to his chest, eyes drifting closed.
"Comfortable?" he asks, voice softer now.
"Mmm," you hum in agreement. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't planning on it."
For a while, it's just quiet. His hands keep moving—sometimes squeezing, sometimes just resting there, thumbs drawing lazy circles. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong. The tension in your shoulders is almost completely gone now, replaced by a different kind of warmth, something slower and heavier.
You're half-asleep when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness pressing against your hip.
"Satoru," you mumble, not even opening your eyes.
"Hmm?"
"Are you seriously getting hard right now?"
There's a pause. Then he says, "...Maybe."
You lift your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised. He has the decency to look slightly sheepish, but there's heat in his eyes now, that familiar hunger that never really goes away when it comes to you.
"We were having a nice moment."
"We still are."
"You've got a boner."
"I do…That doesn't cancel the nice moment."
You stare at him for another second before letting out a laugh.
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"I come home exhausted, use you as a human mattress for ten minutes, and somehow I'm the problem?"
"You are absolutely the problem."
"I literally haven't done anything."
"You climbed on top of me, got all comfy, made that little happy humming noise, and then fell asleep on my chest."
"I hummed?"
"You hummed."
"I don't hum."
"You do when you're really comfortable."
You narrow your eyes. "I've never noticed that."
"I have."
You glare at him.
"…Baby." He exhales dramatically, like he's carrying the weight of the world. "You're makin' me so hard."
You snort. "You're unbelievable."
"I'm trying to be respectful."
"Are you?"
Silence.
"…No." He grins without an ounce of shame. "Not really."
Despite yourself, you laugh again, dropping your forehead back against his shoulder.
"You're ridiculous."
"I know."
His arms tighten around you just a little. "But you look so comfortable."
His voice is quieter now. "So happy."
You burrow your face further into his shoulder.
"…I like when you're like this."
You feel yourself smile before you can stop it. "You're such a sap."
"Only for you."
There's a comfortable silence. Then his hands drift just a little bit lower again.
"…Okay," you mumble. "Now you're definitely not being respectful."
"No." He gives your ass another shameless squeeze. "I'm definitely not."
Before you can respond, he's sitting up, keeping you in his lap, and capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hungry and demanding. You can taste his desperation, feel it in the way his hands grip you like he's afraid you're going to disappear.
When he pulls back, his lips are already swollen, his eyes are dark with want. "I need to taste you," he says, and it's not a request. "Get up here."
"Up where—"
But he's already moving, sliding down the bed and pulling you with him. "On my face. Come on."
"Satoru—"
"Please." And there it is, that needy edge that makes your stomach flip. "I've been thinking about this all day. About you sitting on my face, riding my tongue until you come. Please, baby. I need it."
How are you supposed to say no to that?
"You're ridiculous," you say, but you're already moving, letting him position you. He's lying flat on his back now, looking up at you with such raw want that it makes you shiver.
"Not ridiculous. Desperate." His hands come up to grip your thighs, pulling you forward. "Now stop stalling and sit on my face."
"Bossy," you mutter, but you're lowering yourself down, and then—
"Oh fuck," you gasp as his tongue makes contact, sliding through your folds in one long, deliberate stroke.
He groans under you, the vibration going straight to your core, and his hands tighten on your thighs. "That's it," he mumbles against you. "Right there. Don't move."
But you're already moving, you can't help it, grinding down against his mouth as he licks and sucks and devours you like a man starving. His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, holding you exactly where he wants you, and when you try to lift up, worried about suffocating him, about being too much—he just pulls you back down harder.
"Satoru—"
"Stay," he demands, voice muffled. He pulls his face back to look up at you. "Fuck my face. Come on, baby, I can take it. Give it to me." Then he lowers his mouth to you again.
It's obscene, the wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he's completely lost in it. His tongue circles your clit, then dips inside you, then back to your clit, and you're already shaking, already so close.
"That's it," he encourages, and you can hear the smugness in his voice even now. "You're dripping, baby. such a mess on my face."
"Shut—up," you gasp, but there's no heat in it because he's right—you can feel how wet you are, can feel it on his chin, his lips, and it should be embarrassing but it's just hot.
"Make me," he challenges, and then he's sucking your clit into his mouth, hard, and you cry out.
Your hands fly to the headboard, gripping the edge to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. You start to really move now, riding his face with purpose, and he moans underneath you like this is exactly what he wanted all along.
"Fuck, yes," he groans against you, the vibration making you gasp. "Just like that. Use me, baby. Take what you need."
His hands guide your hips, encouraging the rhythm, and his tongue is relentless—circling, flicking, pressing flat against you in a way that makes your thighs shake. You can feel yourself getting closer, that coil of heat tightening in your belly.
"Satoru, I'm—fuck—"
"Do it," he demands, voice rough. "Come on my face.”
His tongue flicks rapidly over your clit, and that's all it takes. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure rolling through your entire body. You're grinding down against his mouth, riding it out, and he's groaning underneath you like this is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
When you finally come down, shaking and oversensitive, you try to move off him, but his hands tighten on your thighs.
"Not yet," he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs, your hip bones, anywhere he can reach. "Just—give me a second. You taste so fucking good."
"You're gonna kill me," you pant, but you're smiling.
But he's already diving back in, and you gasp as his tongue finds your clit again. Your whole body jolts at the sensitivity, but he doesn't let up—he's relentless, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he works you over. The pleasure is almost too much, bordering on overwhelming, and you're already moaning his name.
"Satoru—fuck—it's too much—"
"I know, baby," he groans against you, the vibration sending another wave through you. "But you can take it."
He's eating you out like he's starving, like he can't get enough, and your whole body is shaking. Your hands grip the headboard tighter, your hips moving against his mouth almost involuntarily. The pleasure is building again, impossibly fast, and you're gasping and moaning as he works you toward another orgasm.
"Oh god—Satoru—I'm gonna—"
"That's it," he encourages, his tongue flicking faster.
Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, even more intense than the first, and you're crying out as pleasure crashes through you. Your thighs are shaking so hard you can barely hold yourself up, and he's groaning underneath you, clearly getting off on how much he's affecting you.
When you finally collapse, completely spent and oversensitive, he finally releases you, and you fall onto the bed next to him, breathing hard and trembling.
"And I'm dramatic?" He's grinning like he just won the lottery, his face wet, his hair a complete disaster. "That was—fuck. I love you, baby."
"You're insane," you say, but you're pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.
"About you? Absolutely." His hands are already roaming again, cupping your face, then sliding down your sides. "But I'm not done with you yet."
"Oh really?"
"Really." He's kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. When he pulls back, there's something vulnerable in his expression beneath all the confidence. "You have no idea what you do to me."
"Then show me," you challenge, and his eyes darken.
"Oh, baby."
He's fumbling with his pants, shoving them down along with his boxers, and his cock springs free—flushed and hard and already leaking. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses.
"Fuck, baby—"
"What?" You stroke him slowly, base to tip, and he's already trembling.
"Your hands—shit—they're so much smaller than mine. Look so good wrapped around my cock."
"Yeah?" you tease, giving him another slow stroke.
"Yeah." His voice is strained.
He gently removes your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, and then he's pulling you against him. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip possessively. You can feel him, hard and hot against your thigh, and he's just... holding you there.
"Satoru—"
"Give me a second," he murmurs, his voice already rough. His breathing is uneven against your neck, and you can feel the tension in his body—the way he's trying to maintain control. "Just—fuck—you feel so good.”
His hips shift slightly, and you feel the length of him drag against you—not entering, just the pressure of him sliding through your wetness. The friction makes you gasp, and he groans.
"There it is," he breathes. "That sound. The little gasp you make when I—" He does it again, a slow roll of his hips, grinding against you. "When I touch you just right."
"Satoru, please—"
"Please what?" His hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. "Tell me what you want, baby."
"You know what I want."
"I do." Another slow grind, and you can feel how wet you are, how easily he slides against you. "But I wanna hear you say it. Love the way your voice gets all breathy when you're desperate for me."
"You're killing me—"
"Good." He's kissing your neck now, teeth grazing your pulse point. "You've been killing me all day. All week. Every time you look at me with those eyes, every time you smile at me like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, baby, you have no idea."
His voice is shaking now, and you realize he's not teasing anymore—he's barely holding on. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you both freeze.
"I can't—" His forehead drops to your shoulder. "I can't think straight around you. Can't control myself. You just—you exist, and I'm gone."
"Then stop trying to control it," you whisper, and you feel him shudder.
"Fuck." He shifts, lining himself up properly, and then he's pushing in—slowly, so slowly. The stretch is intense, pleasure edged with the sweetest hint of pressure as he fills you inch by inch. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good. So tight. So perfect."
"Satoru—"
"I know. I've got you." He's only halfway in, taking his time, letting you adjust. His forehead is still pressed to your shoulder, and you can feel how much restraint this is taking him—the way his muscles are tense, the way his breath comes in short gasps. "You're taking me so well. You always take me so well."
Finally, finally, he's fully seated inside you, and you both just breathe for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being completely connected.
"Okay?" he asks, lifting his head to look at you.
"Yes baby," you manage. "You can move.”
"Thank fuck." He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then thrusts back in. The drag of his cock against your walls makes you gasp, and he groans. "That sound. Fuck, I love that sound."
He sets a steady rhythm, deep and deliberate, each thrust making you feel impossibly full. His hands are everywhere—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips—like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, watching your face. "All flushed and breathless. The way your eyes get all hazy when I'm inside you—fuck, it drives me crazy."
"Satoru—"
"I love you so much." His voice is rough with emotion now, not just desire. "Love everything about you. The way you feel, the way you look at me, the way you let me have you like this—"
"I love you too," you gasp, and his hips stutter.
His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's something raw there.
"Say it again."
"I love you."
"Fuck." His pace falters, becomes less controlled. "You can't—you can't just say it like that when I'm inside you. You're gonna—shit—"
"You feel so good," you tell him, cupping his face. "So perfect. You always make me feel so good."
His breath catches, and suddenly he's kissing you desperately, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, less measured.
"You're everything," he gasps against your mouth. "Everything to me. The way you trust me, the way you look at me like I'm—fuck, baby, I can't—"
"You are," you insist, and his composure cracks completely.
"Fuck—" He's moving faster now, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Love how you fit around me. Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other."
"We were," you gasp, and his eyes flash with something fierce and possessive.
"Damn right we were." He shifts slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust is devastating. "There it is. That's the spot, isn't it?"
"Yes—fuck—right there—"
"I know, baby. I know." His voice is breaking now, emotion and desire tangled together. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna watch your face when you—fuck—when you come because of me."
The pleasure is building so quickly you can barely breathe. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, his back, trying to anchor yourself as he drives into you again and again.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face like he's memorizing it. "I can feel you getting tighter. You're close, aren't you? So fucking close."
"Don't stop—"
"Never." One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it. Let me see you."
The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot and his thumb on your clit is too much. Your orgasm hits you hard, pleasure crashing through you in waves that make your whole body tense and shake. You're clenching around him, and he groans at the sensation.
"Fuck, yes," he breathes, still moving, fucking you through it. "That's it. That's my girl. You're so good. So beautiful. Fuck, I love you so much."
When you finally start to come down, gasping and trembling, you expect him to follow you over the edge. But instead, he slows his movements, pressing soft kisses to your face.
"Satoru—"
"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips.
Before you can respond, he's pulling out and lifting your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position opens you up completely, and when he pushes back in, he's somehow even deeper than before.
"Oh fuck—" you gasp, and he groans.
"There we go." He starts moving again, and this angle is devastating. Every thrust feels impossibly deep, hitting places that make your toes curl. "How's that, baby? That good?"
"Yes—fuck—Satoru—"
"I love you so much," he says, his voice rough. "You know that? I'm never letting you go. You're mine. Always gonna be mine."
"Yours," you agree breathlessly, and something in his expression goes even more intense.
"That's right." His thrusts are harder now, more purposeful. "Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna love you for the rest of my life."
His hand moves to your stomach, pressing down, and suddenly his eyes go wide. He can feel himself inside you, the bulge of his cock with each thrust, and something feral takes over his expression.
"Holy shit," he breathes, completely mesmerized. His hand traces the outline, feeling himself move in and out of you, and he starts fucking you even harder, unable to look away. "Look at that. Look at you taking me so deep."
You're already building toward another orgasm, the intensity of this angle and his words and the way he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen—it's all too much.
He's transfixed, watching his cock disappear inside you again and again, feeling the movement under his palm. His breathing is ragged, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Can you feel that, baby?" he asks breathlessly, his voice completely wrecked. "Fuck—I'm so fucking deep—you feel that?"
You look up at him with half-shut glazed eyes, your mouth parted open, completely fucked out. "Yes—fuck—yes, Satoru, I feel it—"
He groans at the sight of you—at how thoroughly wrecked you look, at the way you're falling apart beneath him. "You're so hot. So fucking hot. The way you look right now—fuck—I'm obsessed with you."
He's fucking you harder now, more urgently, his hand still on your stomach feeling himself move inside you with each thrust. The visual seems to drive him wild, and his movements become almost desperate.
"Come for me again," he demands, his other hand finding your oversensitive clit. "I know you can. I know you've got one more in you. Come on, baby. Give it to me."
"Satoru—I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." His thumb presses harder, circling your clit. "You can, baby. I need you to.”
The pleasure is building impossibly fast, almost painful in its intensity. You're so sensitive from your first two orgasms that every thrust, every touch feels magnified.
"That's it," he encourages, watching your face. "I can see it. You're right there. Just let go, baby.”
His voice is breaking, his control completely shattered, and then something raw escapes from him.
"I want you—" His hips snap forward harder. "Fuck—want all of you.”
His composure finally snaps.
"They've been on my ass my whole life about the bloodline. About heirs. About duty." Another hard thrust, his voice is cracking. "And I never—fuck—never wanted it."
He's breathing hard, almost gasping between words.
"Not until you."
His forehead drops closer to yours, his movements becoming more frantic.
"Only you. Want to marry you—want to wake up to you every day—want to call you my wife and—ah—know you're mine—"
Your orgasm crashes through you even harder, triggered by his words, by the desperation in his voice, by the sight of him completely undone above you. You're clenching around him so tight he gasps, your whole body shaking with the intensity.
"Fuck, yes—" He's just… staring at you, still moving, still feeling himself inside you. "So beautiful—The way your face—the way you sound—fuck—"
The sight of you completely wrecked under him, the feeling of you clenching around him, the way you gasp his name—it pushes him over the edge.
"Ah—fuck—fuck—fuuckk—" He buries himself as deep as he can go and comes hard, spilling into you in hot pulses. His whole body shudders with the intensity of it, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel the warmth spreading.
He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you but clearly boneless. For a while, you just breathe together, sweaty and satisfied.
"Holy shit," you mumble.
"Yeah." He's pressing kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He can’t seem to stop touching you, his hands running over your skin like he needs the contact. "You're amazing. Incredible. Best girlfriend in the entire world."
"Best girlfriend, or best pussy?" you tease, and he pulls back to look at you with mock offense.
"Both. Definitely both." He's grinning now, that soft, genuine smile that he only gives you. "But mostly you. I love you. Like, so much. An embarrassing amount."
"I love you too, you needy disaster."
"Your needy disaster," he corrects, and he's still touching you, hands running over your skin like he can't bear to stop. "Mine now. No takebacks."
"Wouldn't dream of it," you say softly, and you mean it.
He pulls you closer, tucking you against his chest, and you can hear his heartbeat starting to slow. The exhaustion from earlier is creeping back in, but it's different now—satisfied, content, the good kind of tired.
"We should probably shower," you murmur, but you're already half-asleep.
"Later," he mumbles into your hair. "Right now I just wanna hold you."
"Clingy."
"Yep." He doesn't even sound ashamed. "You're stuck with me. Forever. Hope you're ready for that."
"I think I can manage," you say, smiling against his chest.
And as you drift off in his arms, you think that yeah… you can definitely manage. This ridiculous, needy, perfect man is yours, and you wouldn't have it any other way.
Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 5.9k
A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.
“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”
Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver.
And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.
But it was too late.
“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”
And he meant it.
Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.
And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.
The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.
“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”
Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”
“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”
Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”
“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”
“Louder.”
You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”
“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”
Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”
“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”
Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song.
Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-
“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?”
And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like. Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”
Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?
Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.
And there’s so much of it.
“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole.
Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.
“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life
“Ken-”
“...”
“Ken.”
But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.
In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-
Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”
He was addicted. Gone.
“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”
Oh.
If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still.
It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-
Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips.
“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.
You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”
“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”
You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.
Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-
“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra, thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”
Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.
“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”
Baby.
Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now.
Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”
“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”
Drop you?
Drop you?
God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”
Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.
“Promise?”
Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft.
“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”
And he doesn’t.
God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars.
Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit.
You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”
God, you were going to be the death of him.
“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”
“I-I’m so close-” Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”
It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”
Oh.
Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.
It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”
“M’not joking.”
Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”
You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic.
“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”
And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.
That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”
“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.
One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess.
“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”
And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”
Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.
You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”
“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”
“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”
The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-
“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”
And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy.
One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him.
He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth.
And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…
One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”
You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”
Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.
“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”
Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.
And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking.
“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”
Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to.
Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.
Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more-
“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”
And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to.
You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp.
In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”
Oh god, and then he does-
He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.
“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets.
Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-” Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”
And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.
“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-”
It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.
Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”
The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds.
“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”
“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!
“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”
And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.
“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”
As if you could do anything else.
“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”
Oh.
In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you.
And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too.
Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses.
His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”
He was fucking you like it was your fault.
Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum.
Messy.
“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”
“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face.
Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”
God. He was out of control.
“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”
“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”
Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess.
Always his favorite.
“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”
Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.
Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.
But right now, he didn’t care.
Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered.
Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-”
And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.
But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.
“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him.
Smack!
“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)
“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”
Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.
Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes.
But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.
“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”
God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you.
His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”
“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”
“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”
But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity.
“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”
And truly - he sounded like it.
He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots.
“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”
Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.
And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look.
Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy.
And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-
“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”
All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-
And then he’s cumming.
Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes.
Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks.
It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”
“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”
Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge.
Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another.
God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.
Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost.
“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”
“...”
A/N. Gojo’s so annoying I love him.
Plagiarism not authorized.
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