When THEY accidentally send you (p)🌽 link... (part 2)
When YOU accidentally send him a (p) 🌽 link....Here (part 1)
CW: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh fucking. Deep throating. Breeding kink. Masturbation. Praise kink. 🔞 MDNI 🔞
There are about 20 open tabs on your phone and a half finished list of new plushies you’ve been eyeing. It’s a problem. Your collection is already getting a bit out of hand, but there’s something about a new squishy companion that just makes the stress of your last mission melt away.
You’re scrolling through your favorite site, debating between a pastel jellyfish or a round, grumpy cat, when your phone buzzes with a text from Xavier.
Xavier: Found something. Thought it might look good on your bed.
You tap the link eagerly, expecting a picture of some ridiculously soft, oversized penguin or maybe a weirdly cute dragon. You’re already mentally carving out a space for it on your bed.
The link loads. You blink.
Then you blink again.
Your thumb freezes mid scroll. It is not a penguin. It is definitely not a dragon. It is an explicitVIDEO that makes your entire face turn red in approximately 0.5 seconds.
Just as the girl in the video lets out a soft moan, your phone vibrates again. This time, it’s a frantic succession of messages.
Xavier: Wait, did that go through?
Xavier: The link?
Xavier: Please tell me you didn't click that yet.
You look at the video one last time before quickly locking your phone and pressing the cool glass against your burning cheek.
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The look in his deep blue eyes is heavy, dark, and entirely unapologetic.
The transition from his accidental text to both of you completely naked in your bed happens in less than 10 minutes. Because you’ve only been intimate for a few weeks, there’s still this electric, terrifying novelty to it, the way your heart hammers against your ribs when his hands touch your skin.
He’s behind you, his body acting as a warm, solid anchor. His skin is hot against yours, a seamless fit that feels like it was designed by the universe itself. But it’s what he’s doing, the agonizing patience of it that is pushing you toward the edge of madness.
He isn't fucking you. Not yet.
He's doing exactly what you saw on that video. He’s sliding his cock between your thighs, the slick, heavy length of him dragging slowly against you. Every single time he thrusts, the tip of him catches the little hood of your clit before dragging the lenght of his cock across your most vulnerable spot with a precision that feels soooo good.
"Xavie..." you moan, your voice breaking, a plea you can't quite finish.
"Shh," his breath is hot, uneven, smelling faintly of mint. His lips brush the sensitive curve of your neck. "Just breathe, bunny. Let it build."
He pulls back, nearly losing contact entirely, only to slide forward again, with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back.
"I've been thinking about this," he whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "For months"
You let out a choked sob, head falling back against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate, you’re close, aren't you?"
His voice vibrates against your skin and the smile you can feel against your pulse point is nothing short of predatory. He knows. He’s always known exactly where you are, even when you’re too lost in the haze of pleasure to find the words.
You try to answer, but your voice is trapped somewhere in the back of your throat, drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat. You don't speak, and he thrives on that silence. To him, your quiet isn't an absence, it’s an admission. It’s the honest, raw truth of a body that has been pushed past its limit and is now screaming for a release it can't quite grasp.
His hand slides down from your ribs to settle firmly on your waist. His grip is certain, unyielding and controlled anchoring you to the mattress so you can’t squirm away.
He presses a kiss to your neck. Once. Slow. Then again, lower, his lips grazing the curve where your shoulder meets collarbone. The heat of it enough to make you arch backward, your spine curving into him, while the dirty intent of his touch makes you clench around the empty air.
"Ask me, bunny," you try to find your voice, but all that comes out is a breathless hitch in your lungs. Seeing your struggle, he doesn't let you off the hook. He reaches up, his fingers tangling in your hair to gently but firmly tilt your head back toward him. He never breaks the rhythm, he angles his hips with precision, pressing the length of his cock harder against your clit, forcing a loud moan from your lips directly into his mouth.
"Use your words," he insists, his eyes dark and hooded, watching the way your expression fractures.
The words tumble out of you, wrecked and desperate, "I want to cum, Xavie... please..."
His lips crash against yours, but the sweetness is gone. He kisses you like his patience has finally grown teeth, hungry and sharp. His hand moves to your thigh, pressing down firmly to maximizing the friction, ensuring every single nerve ending is on fire, making sure you feel every bit of what you asked for.
The world simply ceases to exist. You both break at the exact same moment. You’re gasping, your hands instinctively flying to your own breasts, squeezing them as you chase the peak, your fingers digging into your skin for any extra stimulation you can find.
"There you are..." he whispers against your lips as he spills over your thighs, your cunt, and the damp sheets beneath you. He holds you there, pinning you to the moment, letting the aftershocks roll through you until your muscles begin to tremble into stillness.
When the world begins to drift back into focus, a languid warmth settling over your limbs, a realization begins to dawn on you. He didn't just give you an orgasm. He found a hidden part of you, the part that craves to be unraveled, the part that wants to be ruined slowly and meticulously and he taught it to answer to him, and him alone.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz
Caleb [14:22]: Found a recipe for a honey glazed salmon. Reminded me of that place we went to last week.
You’re supposed to be working on a pile of halfway finished reports on your desk but he’s been rambling about dinner for the past hour.
Caleb [14:23]: Let's try it tonight. Let me know if it looks okay to you.❤️
A link follows.
You tap it, expecting a colorful food blog or maybe one of those YouTube tutorials with a soft acoustic soundtrack. Your brain practically short circuits.
A VIDEO loads instantly. It’s not salmon. It's a girl, sprawled out on a bed, and there’s a man, looming over her as he... well, he's fucking her face. The girl is looking straight up at him, eyes glazed and heavy lidded, completely lost in it. The sound of the video starts to play before you can find the volume button.
"Oh my god," you whisper, frantically trying to close the tab.
Was this a joke? Or maybe a very, very subtle hint? Did the great Colonel Caleb actually just fumble the most embarrassing mistake of his entire life?
Bzzzz
Caleb [14:26]: Pips. The link was wrong. Ignore that. It was supposed to be a cooking blog. Please delete it.
You could pretend you didn't see a single thing and let him stew in his own embarrassment all day. You could let him suffer.
But then again... he did say he wanted to try something new tonight.
You type out a quick reply, heart racing just a little bit.
“The recipe looks good. Do you think we have all the ingredients?😉"
🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎 🍎
The dim light of the bedroom catches the violet of his eyes, making them look entirely too satisfied. He’s hovering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, leaving you in a private universe where the only thing that exists is his weight and the heat of his cock.
His hands frame your face. "Look at me, baby,"
He guides himself to your lips and begins to slide in. He moves slowly, testing your limits, watching your eyes widen as you try to adjust.
"God, you look so good like this," he breathes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "With your mouth so full of me..."
The praise makes your head swim and your throat tighten.
"I should have done this sooner... I should have stopped playing the gentleman and just taken what's mine."
His slow pace breaks, and he thrusts deeper, a sudden surge that hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water instantly, an involuntary gag catching in your chest when your body tries to protest the sudden fullness.
"Silly girl," he coos, not pulling back. He stays right there, buried deep "Don't fight it. Just breathe through your nose"
He waits until he sees your nostrils flare, until you take a shaky, shallow breath through your nose, eyes locking onto his.
The moment you manage it, the tension in his shoulders melt "Theeeere we go," he whispers, giving you one more deep, slow slide, making sure you feel every inch of him. "Such a fast learner. My perfect... fuck... perfect girl."
The need to see just how far you can push him takes over and instead of just taking him, you begin to draw him in, sucking your cheeks in slowly, creating tight pressure around him.
A groan rips from his throat and his hands, which were previously just guiding your head, suddenly dig into your hair, fingers knotting into the strands with a force that almost hurts.
"Fuck, Pips..." his head falls back for a split second before he snaps his gaze back to yours "I didnt teach you that..."
He loses the battle with his own restraint and his hips begin to move with punishing speed. Every time the tip of his cock hits the very back of your throat you can feel the involuntary reflex of your throat tightening and saliva begins to pool at the corners of your lips. It’s messy but it’s exactly what he wants.
"Look at you," he pants, reaching down to catch a stray drop of saliva and smearing it across your chin "So messy for me. You're dripping all over yourself because you can't get enough. You want it all, don't you?."
Your lungs are screaming, your chest heaving in search for oxygen, but you don’t care. The burning in your throat is nothing compared to the sight of him right now, his eyes blown wide, his jaw locked, his face twisted with a kind of agony and ecstasy that he’d never show anyone else.
He’s on the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling and he starts to pull away.
Your fingers dig into the hard, tensed muscles of his ass and with a sharp tug, you yank him back inside, slamming him against your face.
The sudden change in pressure snaps the last of his restraint. He doesn't fight you, he doesn't even try. He just collapses into the sensation, his entire body shuddering as he finally lets go.
You feel the first hot, thick burst of him erupt in the back of your throat, a sudden flood that makes you choke and gag, eyes watering.
"Fuck, I can't.. I... " he's shaking all over, his fingers bruising your scalp as he rides out the waves of release.
When he finally pulls away, he doesn't move far. He lingers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his eyes searching yours.
"You really won't let me have anything for myself, will you? he whispers, his voice rough and ruined. "You just have to take it all."
Your workday has been a total slog. Between the endless briefings at the Association and the exhaustion of keeping up with Wanderers, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender. All you can think about is getting home, kicking off your boots, and maybe if you’re lucky getting a moment of peace.
Until your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out, expecting a tactical update or maybe a nagging message from your supervisor, but it’s a text from Rafayel.
Rafayel: "My darling, my muse, my precious bodyguard, don't you dare go home and sleep yet” the text reads, followed by a string of dramatic, pouting emojis. “Remember I have an exhibition today! It’s a secret location, very exclusive, very avant garde. You simply MUST come by after your shift. It’s going to be breathtaking, just like you. Don't be late, or I might actually die of loneliness. Here is the location!" 👇
LINK
You smile, a little warmth spreading through your chest despite the fatigue. He’s so much, truly, but he has a way of making the mundane parts of your life feel colorful. You tap the link, expecting a Google Maps pin or a sleek digital invite to a high end gallery in Linkon City.
Instead, your screen loads a video.
You aren't looking at a gallery. You are looking at a naked woman perched on a chair, looking entirely too comfortable, while a man, in front of her, puts on a very intense performance. The camera zooms in just as he reaches the grand finale, a messy orgasm that ends up all over the woman's legs, stomach and breasts.
You stare at the screen. You stare at the ceiling. You stare at the wall.
Did he... did he just send you a porn link?
Your phone vibrates again. A second text. Then a third. A fourth.
Rafayel: “Did you see it? The lighting is so evocative, don't you think?”
Rafayel: “The composition of the colors is quite striking.”
Rafayel: “Wait. Why aren't you responding? Are you mesmerized by the art? It's okay, take your time, it's quite a lot to take in"
Then, a final text arrives, and the tone shifts instantly from "pretentious artist" to "absolute disaster."
Rafayel:"Don't look at it! Close it! Close the tab! Throw the phone into the ocean! Forget everything you saw! It was a glitch! A spacetime anomaly! A Wanderer attack on my phone! "
You can’t help it. A snort escapes you, followed by a full blown fit of giggles that makes your coworkers glance over in confusion. You quickly type back a single, teasing reply.
You: “The lighting was lovely, Rafayel. Very... evocative.”
The "typing..." bubble appears immediately. It stays there for an agonizingly long time.
Rafayel: “I am literally dying. Bury me in the sand. Don't you dare come to the exhibition. Actually, come. But don't look at me. I'm never leaving my studio again.”
🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧
The exhibition was a triumph, of course. Rafayel was the star, basking in the praise of the elite, playing the part of the brilliant artist to perfection.
But now, the doors are locked, the lights are dimmed to a soft, amber glow and you aren't looking at his paintings anymore. You’re the centerpiece of a much more private gallery.
You’re perched on the edge of chair, your wrists pulled taut behind your back. He’d used a length of fine, crimson silk to bind them, tight enough to force your shoulders back and arch your spine, thrusting your chest forward, the cool air of the studio grazing your skin, making your nipples harden.
His hand is wrapped around himself, moving with a slow rhythm "You're staring, cutie," a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth "Is the view to your liking?"
You nod, looking up at him, licking your lips.
He lets out a shaky breath, his knuckles white as he grips himself. "I’ve spent my whole life trying to capture beauty on a flat surface. Trying to trap light and shadow and emotion in pigment and oil. But it's never enough. It’s always... static. It doesn't breathe. It doesn't react."
He moves closer, the heat from his body finally making contact with your open thighs. His gaze drops to your breasts, tracing the curve he’s forced you to present to him.
"But you..." He swallows hard, a low groan escaping his lips as he watches the way your chest heaves with every breath. "You are the only masterpiece that matters. I want to treat your skin like my finest silk and use your naked body as my own living canvas..."
He looks almost pained by need, his eyes wide and dark with a hunger that goes far beyond simple lust. He’s not just looking at a lover, he’s looking at his salvation.
"Every blush on your cheeks, every shiver that runs down your spine... that's the only art worth making."
His free hand moves to one of your breasts, thumb sweeping over your nipple with a pressure that is both worshipful and demanding. He watches the way your eyes flutter shut, memorizing the exact shade of your arousal.
"God, you're so beautiful it hurts," he whispers "Tell me you want it," the hand around his cock moves faster "Tell me you'll let me finish my work."
You don't make him wait. You lean forward as much as the silk allows, your voice a breathless rasp. "Fiinish it, Raf. Show me what you can do."
You can’t look away. You wouldn't even if you could.
A bead of translucent precum swells at the very tip of his cock, glistening like a misplaced jewel under the lights. The skin there is flushed a deep, angry rose, pulsing with the force of his arousal. His head is thrown back, his throat exposed and taut as he bites his lower lip to stifle the needy whimpers that threaten to spill from his lips.
He looks beautiful.
He’s close, so painfully close to the edge that you decide to push him.
Even with your arms bound, you find a way to arch your back further, thrusting your chest toward him in an unspoken invitation. You offer yourself to him, presenting your bare skin as a landing site for his release. "Give it to me. All of it."
The sound of your voice, the invitation in your tone, is the final blow to his crumbling resolve. His body jolts with the force of his release and you watch as the heavy, hot ropes of him arc through the air, splattering across the expanse of your breasts. The heat of it is startling, a wet warmth that makes your skin tingle.
The moment the tension snaps, the strength drains right out of his legs. There is no grace in it just the heavy, unceremonious thud of his knees hitting the floorboards right between your thighs.
He stays there, head bowed, hair falling over his eyes in a dark, damp mess. But then, slowly, so slowly, he lifts his gaze.
His eyes, blown wide and shimmering with liquid heat, find yours at the exact same moment your tongue sweeps out to lick a drop of cum from the corner of your mouth.
When your eyes finally lock, you see the exact second his breath hitches again.
His pupils are so dilated they almost swallow the color of his irises, and a fresh wave of heat, a visible crimson surges up his neck and into his cheeks. He stares at your mouth, watching the way your tongue retreats, his gaze tracing the wet glisten you left behind.
"God..." he groans, the word a broken fragment of a thought "You're going to ruin me completely."
The vibration of your phone against the marble countertop is enough to make you jump. You’ve been nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee for the last twenty minutes, trying to shake off the lingering chill of the Linkon City winter, when the screen lights up with his name.
Sylus
[Sylus]: There’s a private auction tonight. High stakes. It starts in an hour. I’ve been tracking that specific protocore for weeks.
[Sylus] : I’ll send you the catalog link. Take a look. Tell me if the energy readings look as tempting to you as they do to me.
You tap the blue hyperlink, ready to nerd out a little and give him the professional opinion he wants from you.
The video player loads, and you nearly drop your phone.
It isn't a protocore.
It's a VIDEO of a man sprawled across rumpled sheets, his chest heaving as a woman jerks him off. She isn't looking at a camera, she’s looking at him.
The sounds hits you next, the wet friction of her hand, the groans the man lets out, overstimulated.
You bite your lip, a nervous, hysterical little laugh bubbling up in your throat. You can almost see his expression if he knew, that slight, elegant tilt of his head, the way he’d probably pinch the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.
With trembling fingers, you start to type a reply.
You: Sylus... unless this protocore is incredibly well endowed and prone to making loud noises, I think you sent the wrong link.
The silence that follows is agonizing. You stare at the "read" receipt, your thumb hovering over the screen, half expecting the phone to burst into flames from the tension. You’ve spent months navigating his moods, his riddles, and his terrifyingly intense presence, but you’ve never quite known how to handle a moment where the power dynamic shifts so abruptly.
The little bubbles appear. He’s typing.
Is he going to ignore it? Is he going to double down with some devastatingly smooth line that will make you want to crawl under the rug?
A moment later, the notification pings.
Sylus:It seems my finger slipped. Or perhaps my subconscious is simply being more honest than my conscious mind intended.
A few seconds later, another message follows, one that feels much more like the man who watches you sleep with predatory tenderness.
Sylus: I'll be at your door in twenty minutes. Let's not bother with the protocore I think we've found something much more interesting to bid on.
You’ve been at this for thirty minutes and your already obsessed.
There is something intoxicating about the power you hold right now. You never realized that teasing a man like Sylus could be this much of a rush. His entire frame shudders, his muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. He’s right on the edge, his breath hitching and just when you think he’s about to break, you pull away.
Your leg is hooked firmly over one of his heavy thighs, a grounding weight that keeps his legs spread wide for you, exposing him completely to your whims. He’s using his Evol to wrap around his own wrists, binding his hands so he can’t reach out and grab you. He’s forcing himself to endure the torture you’re inflicting, all because he wants this. He wants to feel every second of the ache.
He also looks wrecked. It’s a sight you don't get to see often. Fine beads of sweat are beginning to glisten along his hairline and his eye is glowing a dangerous crimson, tracking your every move.
You lean forward, your hair brushing against his stomach, and as your mouth latches onto one of his nipples he throws his head back against the pillows, his entire body vibrating with the force of his loud groan.
You lift your hand, slowly, dragging your tongue across your entire palm in a long lick just to make him watch, just to make him feel the anticipation. Then, you slide your hand down, finally wrapping your fingers around his cock again.
His eyes roll back into his head when you return your mouth to his nipple, sucking with punishing pressure.
“Please... fuck... Please, kitten. Put me out of my misery.
You feel him tense again, his muscles turning to granite beneath your touch. You stop again.
The sudden absence of your warmth makes him let out a frustrated sound, but you aren't done playing yet. Instead of a full stroke, you just use your five fingers to tease the very tip of him, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive head, over and over again.
“You’ve been so good, Sy,” you coo, your voice a honeyed purr against his skin. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”
“Please, sweetie,” he chokes out. You can see his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dig deep into the palms of his hands “I’ve been... so good...”
He’s lost. The great Sylus, the man who sees everyone's deepest desires, is currently a slave to his own. He probably doesn't even realize he's begging.
"Should I keep you like this all night?" you ask, watching his eyes widen, pupils blown so large they swallow the iris. "It's what you wanted, after all, wasn't it?"
He opens his mouth, the words of a fresh plea already forming on his lips, but you don't give him the chance to speak. Your hand suddenly drops, gripping the thick base of his cock with a firm hold, and you begin to stroke him fast, hard, and relentless.
“I won’t, though,” you whisper, leaning in close so your breath fans over his ear, your voice dripping with a playful, dominant heat. “Because you've been such a good boy.”
The moment the praise leaves your lips, something in him snaps, his entire body arching off the bed in a violent, beautiful spasm.
Even when his muscles quiver with the aftershocks, you keep your hand moving, stroking him to overstimulation, pushing him right past the edge of pleasure.
The energy bindings that were holding his wrists apart simply vanish, dissolving into thin air when his willpower finally snaps.
The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and suddenly, the man who was just begging is the man who is commanding.
He’s over you, his large hands pinning your wrists to the pillows on either side of your head.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" his nose brushes against yours, his breath smelling faintly of the cherry wine he loves so much. "Playing with me like a toy. Testing how much a man can take before he loses his mind."
His heavy, still sensitive cock slides between your thighs, a blunt reminder of exactly how much you just put him through. He looks absolutely lethal.
"You've had your fun, kitten," he murmurs, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to let you know he's in total control now. "Now its my turn to see just how much you can take."
Zayne had been obsessing over that new bakery just a few blocks from your place, the kind of place that smells like heaven and costs way too much. He was mid text, rambling about the sourdough starter and the specific crumb structure of their croissants (of course he was), but he mentioned he’d send over the full menu link so you could decide on a weekend treat.
"Wait, let me send the link. They have a seasonal pastry list you'll love"
LINK
You tapped the blue link eagerly, expecting pictures of glazed danishes or maybe a list of gluten free muffins.
It was not a muffin.
It was a very loud, very explicit video of a man wrecking a woman with backshots, pulling out only for her to rip the condom off his cock so he could fuck her raw.
You: Zayne, there are no pastries in that link! There is only... a man. And a girl. And a very missing condom!
Zayne: ...
Zayne: Oh.
You: “Oh”? That’s all? You just sent me a full blown porn video in the middle of the afternoon!
Zayne: Stop. Please. I am currently in the middle of a ward round. A nurse just tried to look at my phone.
You: [Sends a laughing emoji]
Zayne: I'm coming over later. We are going to that bakery. And we are not talking about that "menu" until we have had at least two espressos. To settle my nerves.
You: Are you bringing the condom? Just kidding! Don't kill me!
Zayne: 🙄
🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺
The bakery was a lost cause. The sourdough was forgotten, the espresso was unbrewed, and the only thing "rising" in your apartment was Zayne's cock the moment he walked in and saw the way you were looking at him, flushed, eyes hazy, and, quite frankly, a mess.
Now, you were bent over the edge of your bed, your fingers digging into the mattress as he held you from behind.
"Zaynie, please!" you whimpered, your voice cracking. You were desperate, begging him to just stop being so careful, to just let go and give you what that video had promised. "Just... Take it off, Please!"
His hands gripped your hips with a strength that promised bruises. "Just because you’re on the pill doesn't mean the statistical probability of a mishap is zero. It’s... fuck... it's about risk management."
"Even in a committed relationship," he continued, his words punctuated by the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin, "one must account for... ah, god... hormonal fluctuations and the ... the unpredictability of the human reproductive system. It's not just about pregnancy, it's about...shit...it's about hygiene, and the prevention of... of unnecessary... fuck, you feel so good."
He was losing it. The doctor was losing the battle against the man. He was supposed to be lecturing you on biological safeguards, but the way he was cursing under his breath low, dirty words that he’d never say in the hospital halls told a different story.
"You're being... so difficult," he groaned, his fingers moving to your waist, pulling you back harder against him. "Trying to... to bypass all the... damn it... the precautions. Do you have any idea what you're doing to my concentration?."
He leaned forward, his teeth grazing the nape of your neck, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Stay still. Let me... let me take care of this properly. Fuck, if you keep making those sounds, the condom is going to be the least of our worries."
"Who cares about the... the statistics, Zayne!" you gasped, your forehead pressed against the cool sheets. "Just... fuck, just give it to me! It’s just us, isn't it?
You were rambling, throwing out half baked excuses about how you will feel "more connected" or how the latex was a "distracting from the sensory input" basically using his own medical vocabulary against him just to get what you wanted. You were cursing, too, your language losing all its usual politeness as the friction and the heat drove you toward a breaking point.
Then, suddenly, the fullness vanished.
"Why did you stop?" you demanded, your voice small and wounded, eyes searching his. "Zayne, why did you... "
He was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his hair mussed in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of the composed man you knew. He looked down at you with an expression that was almost exasperated, that specific, "are you actually serious right now?" look he gave you when you forgot your keys or ignored his health advice.
He didn't need to say the words. You lunged for it, your fingers trembling as you gripped him, ripping the condom off.
The moment he slid back into you, skin on skin, the sensation was nothing short of transcendental.
" Fuck!" you breathed out.
"God, finally," he growled back.
The sight of your cunt clinging to his cock was enough to shatter even the most disciplined mind. Zayne, the man who could maintain a steady hand while repairing a human heart, lost his grip on reality. The friction, the warmth, and the intimacy of being inside you without any barrier sent him over the edge far faster than he ever thought possible.
He stiffened and with a few deep thrusts that felt like they were reaching your throat he broke. A sound between a moan and a curse escaped him as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck.
When he pulled out Zayne wasn't looking at your face. He was staring, almost hypnotically, downward. His gaze was fixed on the junction of your thighs, watching with a quiet, intense fascination as the evidence of his release, thick and pearly, slowly leaked from your plump pussy, tracing a slow path down your skin. He looked mesmerized.
"You know," you said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "for a man so obsessed with 'risk management' and 'preventative measures'..." You paused looking at his flushed face. "Your breeding kink is really showing, Doctor."
Sirens are dangerous and deceptive beings, especially dangerous to naive sailors, especially for men. And Choso is no different. Because as soon as he hears your lovely call, he's willing to risk death just to feel your warmth. Even for a second.
included in Tales, Myths, Romances
Requested (pray forgive me for such a long wait!)
˖𖦹 ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Sailor!Choso x Siren!Reader ꒱
˖𖦹 ݁˖ content/warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18+ : set in Ancient Greece : inspired by Greek Mythology : filth with plot : heavy smut : heavy breeding kink : whimpering Choso : siren pussy : mating : reverse knotting (???) : mating press : Choso is miserable as always : oral sex (both ways) : cum overflow : cum eating : belly bulge : happy ending : aphrodisiac puss : 6k words ꒱
˖𖦹 ݁˖ note: If you see me uploading it for the second time – no you don't (I may or may not have accidentally deleted the og post). A warm thank you to my real-life friends who sat with me in a bar and discussed how to describe the siren's pussy. I think it's the most filthy thing I've written so far. Also, a quick note, in Greek Mythology, sirens are half women, half birds, but I decided to keep the classic mermaid look!
dividers by @diviniyae and @solitary-serendipity
art by F_tality0 on X
Poseidon was enraged that night.
Breeze, always so gentle and kind, smacked the pirates' cheeks all night as the massive ship swam through the restless darkness. The mast was almost broken, bending under the powerful wind that gusted madly across the Aegean Sea, with tall waves and salty foam slipping onto the half-wrecked ship.
They weren't going to make it. For the first time in years of sailing, the captain truly believed that they weren't going to make it.
The ship was barely standing, traded goods hidden neatly below the deck, yet waves of foaming salt were constantly filling the vessel with its unmatched weight. It was getting heavier and heavier, slowly dipping into the relentless liquid till everyone gathered up on a deck, with fifty or so pirates praying for mercy.
To Poseidon, as only he could hear their pleas and still the madness of the waters. Never in over five years of their journeys had they encountered a storm like this. Rough, almost barbarous, as if God himself wished to wipe them from the earth.
Another wave spilt over the wooden edge, washing over a dozen or so sailors, wet and desperate, looking out for any haven. With almost a broken mast, they were already in a lost position, and yet through drenched lashes, with hands covering their eyes from the heavy, cold rain, they looked out.
And looked, looked, until a scream had slashed through the air, carrying the hope all these men waited for. "Captain, there's an island!"
Choso quickly looked up, chestnut eyes struggling to see through the thick fog and pouring rain that stung his cheeks with their mischievous giggles. Wet, dark hair clung to his forehead as his eyes finally caught a large shadow, bending and curving in front of his wet gaze.
He should be happy, just like other men, as a sudden hope appeared, yet something in his chest tightened. But Choso, a long-time experienced captain, knew that an island in the middle of the sea meant nothing good.
In fact, he could already sense it, see it. The rocky edges of the small isle. Sharp and shimmering under the pale moonlight, lighted solely by its cold beams and lightnings slashing the enraged sky.
He could see the foam swelling near the ship, with pearly scales appearing here and there, coating the full length of heavy tails.
He could hear the melody, carried by the storm, right towards their ship. Like birds chirping, the glazed sweetness that warmed the shivering hearts of sailors and lulled them into the clutches of deadly creatures.
Choso has never met the sirens, although he had seen them.
The enchanting, nymph-like beings frolic near the seaside, giggling and singing softly as they bathed on the warm rocks. Their skin always shimmered like gold under the warm rays of sunshine, reflecting off the crystal droplets coating their bodies.
The creatures of utmost beauty and lethal nature. Nightmares of every passing ship. One of the few divinities a mortal could actually meet, yet everyone who tried to ogle them from the dense forest, lurking at their gleaming bodies dipping into the sea, would surely end up dead.
But not Choso.
He, somehow, as a simple sailor with only a few foolish things to his name, managed to get close to those mysterious beings. Close enough to smell their skin – the scent of a sweet ocean breeze and sweat, as they soaked in the sun all day. To hear their lovely hums without going absolutely mad, and to cherish them while watching from behind the massive boulders. Big enough to cover his body completely and let him hold dear this special moment.
As myths and legends of forbidden love always go, there was one most enchanting siren, whom the poor sailor couldn't keep his eyes off.
The one, whose tail shimmered the brightest, covered in lovely pinkish scales woven with golden thread. With skin soft as flowery petals, although he never touched it with his own, calloused fingers. With a voice so lovely it lulled him to sleep, whenever he came to the seaside on late, late nights.
When nothing but the gentle waves and low hum of crickets filled the humid air.
He could be more daring. Braver, lurking behind the boulder with his gaze fixed on your body spread out on the sand and the turtles sleeping peacefully near your tail. Cherish the longing melody directed at the moon, as you sang it loudly and clearly, filling Choso's ears with the sweetest ambrosia.
Nights like this were always his favourite. Making his heart swell with a certain pride, as if he were a chosen one. The only one who could hold you dearly in his own, foolish way – never making a step, never saying a word.
But it was enough. He simply didn't need more.
And you… You seemed not to care about him at all.
Even if you sensed his presence, it seemed that this foolish sailor boy was of no danger or harm. As long as he was simply there, lurking from between the trees without sticky hands trying to grab you or your sisters, there was no need to kill him.
And thus, simply because of it, Choso started believing that the heavens had blessed him. Allowed to be the only mortal who could get close to such deadly and mysterious creatures as the daughters of the sea.
But then the storm came as he and his crew crossed the Aegean Sea and aimed for Athens. The journey was long and tricky, yet they finished it time and time again, always without a sweat and with goods delivered on time.
None of them expected the sudden hurricane, which raised the crystal waves to meters high and swelled beneath their ship. But even this would be manageable. At some point, the waters would calm down, and Choso with his crew would find their way to the shore.
Now, however, with the devilish melody slipping warmly into his men's minds, Choso knew that it was over. For the sirens' voice was more treacherous than Poseidon's wrath. A spell of the most unkind sort, luring the foolish man into their warm, open arms, only to sink their teeth deep into the flesh.
With fifty men on the ship, there was no chance for Choso to save everyone. Nevertheless, he needed to try.
"Close your ears," his shout tried to rip itself through the eruption of clashing waves. "The sirens are here, close your ears! Don't listen to them!"
His men started to panic, with low, frightened tremblings filling the drenched deck.
"Sirens? How is it possible?"
"Dear Gods, save us!"
"What Gods? No one will help us! That's it, we're done here!"
The terror grew as the haunting melody sharpened and became more distinct, as if a dozen or so sirens circled the ship. Choso stood on the deck, watching the shimmering tails and wet heads slipping from the tall waves. One more lovely than another, with long, flapping tails and warm eyes fixed on their prey.
With his hands covering ears, he couldn't hear much, and yet the sight of pearly smiles and soft arms stretched towards them was enough to feel the urge to jump right into their loving clutches. To feel the sweetness of their kisses on his cheeks, delicate fingers wrapping around his neck with the utmost fondness, till at last sharp teeth would dig into his body and take it deep under the sea.
As the ship drew nearer to the stony island, he finally realised that the helmsman, immersed in the melody, was completely lost. With both hands on the wooden wheel and a foggy gaze, he had no thoughts, steering the vessel directly toward the sirens' isle.
"No," Choso gasped, running towards the wheel. "No, fuck, wake up!" he screamed and screamed, but nothing could mute the sirens' sweet voices.
The melodic come to me, sweetheart, and, I'll treat you well, darling, or, come closer, fill me with your love. Sometimes it would be only the singing, sweet and treacherous, with a maddening power to possess the men's simple minds.
Choso shoved the helmsman aside and hurried to cover his ears.
He looked around and saw utter chaos. A few men took cover in the wet corners of the ship, clutching their heads and praying fervently. Others jumped off the deck, heading straight for the siren's open arms, foolishly lured by the sweet and tempting promises they had convinced themselves of.
The bodies fell one by one, and soon a wave of screams rose from the pearly foam, as the crystal waters turned crimson. Sirens' strong hands sank the sailors, only to rise to the surface again and wait for another fool.
The helmsman curled under the wheel as Choso took over the steering.
And that was his biggest mistake.
As he took his hands off his ears, all the melodic whispers and giggles suddenly reached him. Loud and clear, one voice sweeter than the other, choking him with an overwhelming power until breathing alone became too difficult. A warmth spread all over his chest, as if the sole sensuality of the voices made his heart beat faster and his skin coat in sweat. The heat hit his cheeks, fever broke, but it wasn't caused by sickness, no.
But by all the devilish oaths, hitting him like an aphrodisiac and pulling towards the ship's edge. He tried to fight the filthy warmth filling his body. The need to jump overboard and nuzzle into the sirens' warm, plush skin.
He gripped the wheel tighter, trying to get the ship away from the stony island. The storm was ravaging the vessel, and yet it seemed that the brutal wind finally started to bend under his pleas. He rolled the wheel, and rolled, and rolled, till the massive, wooden structure slowly turned back towards the open sea.
Men were jumping one after another, and he estimated that half of the crew was already dead. Sirens circled the ship tighter, voices even-pitched, sweeter, making him tremble from the overwhelming heat.
But he was strong, Choso had believed. He could fight them, as no woman was able to make him mad enough to force him to jump overboard. Saving his life was far more crucial than those few, mere seconds of pleasure spent in sirens' arms.
With fingers clutching the wheel and the storm still fierce, he steered the ship away from the island into the endless sea. Pale moonlight struggled to pierce the thick clouds overhead, while ghostly lightning forked across the sky, illuminating his rain-slicked face.
He screamed to his men, telling them to hang in there, to stay calm, hoping that a few of them who still nuzzled into the dark corners of the ship wouldn't go absolutely mad. Sirens sang louder, and Choso thought with nail and tooth to keep his mind clear. But the lustful fever was making him weak, melting his body into a trembling mess, until he needed to grip the wheel tighter to keep from falling.
And then…
Then the catastrophe came.
"Sailor boy," whirled in the air, reaching his ears. His body suddenly froze, eyes widened. "Sailor boy, come here."
The voice was distinct from the others – sweeter, kinder, with a silky undertone that pierced straight to his heart.
"Sailor boy, I know you're there," a melody rumbled through his body once again, forcing Choso to let go of the wheel.
Driven by madness, he slowly moved down the deck, sneakily gliding over the ship's edge. The dark, infinite sea stretched out before him, with pearly waves crashing against each other. Among other lurking sirens, with giggles and claws poised to seize his lustful body – there was you.
Calm and beautiful, with wet hair curling around your cheeks and slightly lidded eyes looking up at him. Water dripped down your shell-covered breasts, and moonlight bounced off the wet skin.
Your gaze carried a kind of grace – patient, almost trusting. And the longer Choso kept looking at you, the more he leaned further forward. Raven hair sticking to his damp neck, lips fallen open, as he tried to fight the heat bubbling in his loins.
"My sailor boy," you chirped, spreading your arms open. Towards the sky, him, with a lovely smile and a little tilt of your head. "Come to me, sailor boy. I know you wish to."
His fingers gripped the wooden side tighter. Till knuckles went white, and breath slipped with a shudder. Wind smacked his cheeks, rain filled the fallen lips as he still, with trembling eyes and body bent in half, looked at your waiting arms.
He wondered how soft your skin would be and what you would taste like if he tried to caress your lips with his. How far underwater would you take him before choking him to death and leaving his body behind, just like you did with all the other men?
Would you devour him right away, or perhaps cherish every piece of his muscular body, which he was ready to offer you on a plate?
Or maybe, just maybe, with gentle fingers, you would first trace his cheeks, gazing deeply into the warm chestnut of his eyes as if meeting a lover’s stare. Run your fingers through his hair and softly press your lips to his, patiently awaiting his response – longing for him to deepen the kiss with the desire of one tempted by forbidden fruit, mindful of the inevitable consequences.
The rest of the crew watched him in fright, yet no one dared to step any closer to the edge. For the captain seemed to fight something none of them could help him with. Something so deeply etched into his chest that he could only grip the deck tighter and lean on the line between life and death.
But then your arms opened even wider, lips curled mischievously, gaze flickered. "My sailor boy, my dearest," the voice suddenly became lower, with the sensual cheekiness swirling in his mind. "Come to me. Let me love you."
Amidst the frightened screams of the crew and the wind whipping his cheeks with sharp, rainy gusts, Choso jumped.
Into the arms of a woman who suddenly turned him into a madman.
𖦹 𖦹 𖦹
He woke up with a sudden realisation that he could still breathe. His body didn't hurt as much as he thought it would after being devoured by a siren, and solely a light pain pulsed on his face.
He raised hand, touching the long, bloody slash marking his nose and cheeks. An ache flickered under his fingers, leaving the crimson, still slightly wet liquid on soft pads.
Moonlight slipped sheepishly through the small opening above, and only then did he realise he had been dragged into the cave. The sand beneath his body was still wet, soaked by the clothes that had weighed him down. He clearly remembered the moment his body touched the cold sea, sinking quickly before a pair of gentle arms pulled him back to the surface.
But the rest of his memory faded, and the bloody mark on his nose was likely caused by a severe blow to his head.
It pulsed a bit, but he was too excited by the thought of still being alive to care about such a minor issue.
He gradually sat up, glancing around the small cave by the seaside. Gentle waves quietly lapped inside, flowing over the golden sand and touching his bare feet. The moonlight glinted brightly in the clear, dark sky, and the warm night air caressed his flushed cheeks. It appeared that, in the end, he wasn't on the rocky siren island, and a breath of relief escaped his lips.
A relief mixed with panic.
Because you weren't here.
He once again looked around, noticing how shallow the cave was. The back wall, covered in slimy seaweed, shimmered under the moonlight, carrying the salty, slightly rotten smell of fish. But nowhere in the cave could he spot the familiar pinkish scales.
"Looking for me, sailor boy?"
His head snapped back towards the entrance.
And there you were – smiling slyly, wet hair cascading down your back, head tilted slightly. You lay on your belly, resting chin on your palm, with long tail swaying back and forth, droplets of crystal-clear water dripping from the soft scales.
A sweet giggle bounced off the stony walls as you looked at Choso's lips fallen open. "Why? Aren't you happy to see me?"
His throat bobbed, fingers gripped the wet sand. "N-No, it's just…"
Too distracted, he struggled to carve into his mind every small detail of your face. His gaze fixated on your lovely eyes, veiled by a gentle fog, where the irises and whites blurred together, almost resembling a spectre. He noticed the gentle curve of your lips and cheeks, which held a slight warmth. Your ears, bent into an eerie shape, slightly pointed and much thinner, added a little uncanny look to your lovely face.
And yet, his breath hitched, and something heavy bubbled beneath the chest. "Why didn't you kill me?"
A sweet hum filled the wet cave, broken only by waves clashing gently against your splayed body. "Would you prefer that, sailor boy?"
"No, i-it's just…" Choso desperately searched for words, but his mind was still as if under the influence of your bewitching spell. "Thank you." That's all he could say, trembling under the heavy gaze of yours.
Lying in front of his seated form, your finger brushed his calf. "It's too early to thank me. You still don't know why I decided to keep you alive."
Heavy muscles bulged under the milky, slightly damp skin, curling around his thick calves and up to beefy thighs. A giggle slipped past your lips as you saw another bulge straining his woollen tunic. With a wetness padding the cloth, trembling slightly whenever your nail marked his skin.
Your fingers travelled up, up, skimming the calves, knees, and thighs, as he slowly spread them open. Chestnut eyes followed your gradually approaching body, crawling closer towards him. Heavy tail dragged on the soft sand as you slowly slipped out of the water.
Leaning on his arm, he gripped the sand harder, ogling carefully the mischievous loveliness twisting your lips.
"Ask me," you whispered, nuzzling into his thigh. Fingers slipped under the woollen cloth, pinching the soft skin. "Ask me why I saved you."
"Why d-did you save me?" he could barely breathe, feeling your digits dangerously too close to his leaking cock.
And then, he felt it. Your thumb pressing onto the wet head, teeth biting gently into the inside of his thigh. A cry rolled out of his lips, little grains of sand dug painfully into his palms.
"I think you're cute," slipped in a giggle, as you licked the bitten skin sweetly. He whimpered lowly, and you noticed crystal droplets swirling in his eyes. "And I need something from you."
But before Choso could ask what, your head slipped under his woollen robes. And then, something in his mind exploded. Sudden pleasure washed over his spine as your lips curled around his cock with a lovely hum, fingers squeezing the pulsing base.
"W-Wait– Ahhh!" his hand landed on your head, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to push you away. Instead, he brushed your hair away, letting himself take a closer, better look at your lovely face.
There was something utterly filthy in the way your pointy ears shivered every time another moan slipped past his lips. How your scales seemed to glow even lighter when his fingers skimmed through your neck, thumb brushing the warm cheek bulging with his feverish head.
You drank the pearly cum swirling on the tip of his cock with a hum before taking him in deeper. Till he could feel the end of your warm throat and muscles tightening around the fat shaft. Delicate fingers played with his balls, and a sudden cry ripped past his lips when you gave them a soft squeeze.
"M-my Goddess–" this time, he tried to push you away, feeling the dangerous heat once again coiling in his loins. "I c-can't, it's too–mhmmm–"
A sudden embarrassment hit his flushed cheeks at the thought of coming that fast. Needing nothing but a single luscious glance of yours and lips locking on his cock. Your head bobbed in frenzied movements, with low hums going straight into his pulsing cock and sending a wave of trembling pleasure down his spine. Nose tickled his pubes, saliva dripping down the veiny shaft, drenched in the honeyed sweetness of your mouth.
Pulling out with a soft pop, your gaze locked with his. "I'm not a Goddess, sailor boy," Choso wished to disagree, but your lips crashed against his. In a quick yet messy kiss, as you bit his lower lip, leaving him with a metallic sweetness and the musky smell of his cock. "But for now, call me whatever you want. As long as you'll give me this," your fingers once again squeezed his tightening balls.
Choso felt dumbfounded, madly besotted, with heart-shaped irises fixed on your face and lips slightly parted. "You want…" he barely pushed, not quite sure whether you were thinking the same thing.
But you nodded gently, giving his cock another squeeze. The flushed head was seconds away from busting, and you could see the milky trace of sticky cum coat the hardened tip.
"Give me a baby," slipped smoothly like a dream, causing Choso to blush deeply. Your hands curled behind his neck, then you pulled him closer, drawing him nearer as you slowly reclined, shifting your positions. "You're such a pretty, pretty boy," your warm thumb brushed his rosy cheek. "Can you do it for me? Do you want to make me pregnant, sailor boy?"
And Choso, with your tail between his thighs and your lovely little head splayed between his hands digging deep into the sand, could do nothing but nod. Slowly, with heat ripping through his body from the inside, and his heart suddenly skipping a few beats.
"Y-yes," he whispered softly, as you pushed behind the ear raven strands of his hair. A gentle sweetness shone in his eyes, melting your heart with its pure and innocent glow. His feelings were so pristine, as he desperately tried to hide this charming bashfulness behind an awkward demeanour. "If you allow me, my Goddess, I do want to–" his throat bobbed, another wave of embarrassment washing over his virgin body. He simply couldn't force himself to admit such a filthy thing!
You giggled, pulling him closer. Till your lips brushed gently and eyes met in a lustful crossing. "Then get to work, my sailor boy. Show me what you got."
Before Choso could ask, flustered, how this was supposed to work, you swiftly lifted your tail, putting the lower half of heavy, pinkish scales on his shoulder. Your hand curled around his, slowly, slowly, guiding it towards the swell of your ass. And then slightly down, through the hard scales covering your whole lower body. Choso tried to remember every little bump, each golden line curling around your tail like a halo, till he finally felt something else.
Something softer, slicker, hidden under a few flakes till you helped him feel the wet entrance of your pussy. His breath hitched, eyes crossed with your mischievous smile, as he sensed the slick coat his palm.
"Can you feel it?" you asked, but something in your voice changed. It became softer, more pleading, with a gentle frown appearing between your eyebrows. "Push them in, mhmm, just like that," guiding him softly, your nails dig into his forearm.
Two thick fingers slipped inside, and he immediately moaned, feeling the maddening tightness of your cunt. Gummy walls – not quite soft, but rather with slight bumps and swells – clamped down on his digits till thrusting them further was nearly impossible.
Choso had never been with a woman before and thus had no basis for comparison. Still, your warmth felt uniquely different from that of humans – slick, slimy, with bulges pressing into his fingers and holding them firmly. His two fingers were trapped in the soft, drenched embrace of your heated cunt, making his mind spin at the sheer thought of feeling you around his cock.
"My Goddess, you're s-so wet," he cried, curling another arm around your tail. His cheek nuzzled into the pink-scaled tail, and the silky fluke fluttered on his shoulder. "So tight, can you r-relax a little?"
When he tried to bend the finger, a sudden jolt of electricity dripped down your spine, and nails dug deeper into his muscular forearm. "I am relaxed, sailor boy. It–ngh–it can't get looser."
Choso was almost losing his mind. The warmth of your cunt burned through his fingers, soft bumps brushed his fingers as he pumped them in slow thrusts. With pads bumping into every swell of your gummy walls and honeyed slick dripping down the drenched sand. It stretched between his fingers, coating them in a weird, slimy softness, and, driven by sheer curiosity, he pulled them out.
Seeing the thought coiling in his mind, your eyes suddenly bulged. "No, wait, you can't–!"
But it was too late.
Two, drenched digits were pushed into his mouth, as he sucked on them with a low hum. His tongue licking them clean, a delicious groan escaped his tightened throat, as the syrupy sweetness exploded on his tongue. His mind started to spin, eyes rolled back, stomach squeezed in an almost painful pleasure and cock, if not hard enough, became almost stony. With head pulsing in feverish need as he brushed the fat shaft against the slick entrance of your cunt.
But something felt wrong… The heat that hit him was too strong, ripping him from the inside with a hungry flame that seemed to grow more resilient.
He looked down, seeing the pearly cum already bursting all over your soft, pulsing cunt, coating the lovely scales with waves and waves of thick semen. And yet, his cock was still rock-hard, throbbing with a raw need to breed your swelling cunt. With small folds puckered out, and a bumpy clit pulsing under the sticky droplets of his semen.
"W-What is g-going–"
"It's like an aphrodisiac," you cried, feeling his warm cum coating your needy pussy. "The slick, it's, mhmmm, you shouldn't eat it."
As the round head of his cock brushed your soaked hole, its muscles tried to draw it in. Your walls tightened around the throbbing tip, causing another surge of pleasure to ripple through Choso's spine and making him climax again with a sticky release.
"I can't, fuck, I-I can't stop cumming," a crying whimper rolled past his lips, as he nuzzled into your tale like a baby. "My Goddess, you tasted s-so, nghh, so delicious, fuck, so sweet. I don't regret drinking it, Idon'tIdon't–ah!"
Oh, what a lovely, whimpering mess he was. Although his massive cock ripped you raw, prising through the swells and bumps with a brutal intrusion, you still managed to giggle cheekily.
A massive arm firmly held your tail in place, while another hand moved down to your pussy. Fingers, a bit clumsy, found your sensitive clit, gently pressing and rolling the soft, pulsing button.
With eyes slightly half-closed and a mind clouded by pleasure, you stared at his face – completely miserable, crying, yet strikingly beautiful, with raven hair clinging to his open lips and a deep furrow across the milky skin of his forehead. His chestnut eyes remained fixed on yours, refusing to break eye contact, even as his hips moved desperately to meet yours. Messy words spilt from his loosened tongue as he kissed, licked, and bit the scales of your tail, making your thoughts whirl even faster.
"Don't, I'm–ahh–sensitive here!"
Deep eyes locked onto you, shimmering with a hint of mischief. "Oh, yeah? Where else are you sensitive, my Goddess?" he murmured, licking your tail again. "Tell me, I want to know every one of your sweet spots."
His thumb rubbed your clit, desperately trying to make your cunt loosen up just slightly. But it seemed that the swells and bumps coating your walls were already relaxed, forcing him to slide through the slick with a beastly thrust. Your cunt squished his cock till you felt every vein, every dripping pearl of his cum with a maddening accuracy.
Your arms spread open, waiting for him to bend over and bury his face in the plushness of your breasts. His fingers ripped the two shells covering your tits with a single tug, finally letting the swelled softness slip into his warm palm.
He leaned forward, folding your tail in half until the thin fluke brushed the sand over your head. "So soft," he whispered, squeezing your breasts with one hand. "My Goddess, you're so soft, e-everywhere," but before a moan could escape your lips, he captured them with his own, drinking in the sweet melody with a low groan. "Where is it? Where is your sweet spot?"
As no matter how hard he forcefully thrusted, how deep his cock slipped into your feverish cunt, it seemed that he still couldn't find this little button that would make you melt under his touch.
He pounded you like a madman, tearing through your clamping walls and sucking gently on your lips, as he felt each and every bump of your cunt. The filthy squelching sound bounced off the cave's wall, as the slimy cum dripped down the curve of your ass.
He mumbled, cried, whimpered miserably where is it where is it where is it, as his cock rummaged through your weeping pussy at a maddening pace, forcing your body to dig deeper into the soft sand. Your breast bounced with every thrust, eyes rolled back whenever he busted inside, filling your womb with heavy waves of cum.
As, dear heavens, he was cumming all the time – from the moment his cock slipped past your swollen folds, till the milky teeth sucked on your neck. The heat caused by your slick was constantly making him cum, till your lower belly bulged from the thickness of milky seed he stuffed you with. It flowed inside your belly, attracting his hazy attention.
His large palm pressed the lower, plump pouch of your belly, feeling the warm liquid spilling inside your puffy womb.
"It's, mhmmm, it's everywhere," you moaned into his lips, pulling him closer. Fingers digging into his hair, eyes glossy whenever the soft skin of his cock pushed your swollen bumps. "The things, ahhh, inside it's–" another cry filled his fallen lips, as the feverish head kissed your overflowing womb. "It's e-everywhere. The bumps–"
"Are your sweet spot?" Choso asked, feeling another wave of heat coiling in his loins. "You wish to tell me that all of them…"
"Yes, fuck, yesyesyes," your eyes crossed in pleasure, when his thumb pinched your clit. Rolling the little button between soft fingers, massaging it in small circles, only to tweak it with a little pain. "So good, mhmm feels s-so good."
And upon hearing it, something in Choso's mind snapped.
Again, again, again, and again, as he pumped his cock with sloppy thrusts. His warm cum filled your womb to the brim, coating his full length with sticky creaminess and spilling through your entrance. He plunged with brutal force, ripping through the swollen bumps that tried to lock him in place.
He pulled back from your neck, taking in the loveliness of your face, utterly lost in pleasure. Kissing warm cheeks, licking the chin, biting down on pointy ears till another moan ripped through your chest and cunt clamped on him tighter.
Tighter and tighter, until Choso somehow felt himself sealed. Your walls softened and expanded, embracing his pulsing shaft with an arousing, warm sensation.
"What's going on?" he brushed away the lost strands of hair stuck to your cheeks. "My Goddess, what–"
"We're, mhmm, mating," your head lulled to the side, and breathing suddenly became harder. He, on the other hand, froze. "You need to s-stay inside till I won't get p-pregnant."
But it was hard to imagine you weren't already with a child, with a lower belly bloated from the sheer amount of cum he filled you with. And when your cunt sealed him with a deathly grip, you finally came. Pulsing around his cock, drenching his hips with the slick sweetness, and bending your back in a delicious arc.
And Choso whimpered, feeling your warm cunt clamp down on him with short pulses, and pressing with his heavy hand on the bloated pouch filled with his semen. Till you cried right into his lips and allowed him to lick the sweat rushing down your temple. So beautiful, beautiful, my beautiful Goddess, bounced off your lips as he mumbled messily like a starving man. Rolling his hips with gentle thrusts, sending waves of pleasure down your spine.
You stayed locked for the next few minutes, and the moment Choso pulled out, his cum burst from your clamping walls. But he, oh, he didn't let it go to waste, quickly slipping beneath your tail and pushing the salty strings back with his tongue.
Drinking, slurping, sucking on your slick mixed with his, till the aphrodisiac once again hit his head. You tried to push him away, overwhelmed from the orgasm that ripped through you a mere seconds ago, but he was completely, utterly lost.
Sucking on your plump clit and stuffing you full with three fingers, only to keep the warm semen deep inside your womb.
He fucked you, caressed you and kissed every part of your body till the soft licks of sun started slipping shyly into the cave. Till your pinkish tail was coated in his cum and belly heavy, overflowing with the creamy warmth.
Sometimes he pounded your back on the sand; at other times, when your scales felt drier than usual, he put you back in the water, filling your tight cunt with calm waves slipping beneath your bodies.
He made promises, large and lovely, while biting and sucking sweetly on your nipples and coating the swell of your breasts with the wettest kisses. He fucked you madly and made love, as if cherishing the moment of intimacy meant only for the lovers.
And you, who initially intended to use him only for this purpose, began to breathe in every soft whisper. To nuzzle into his large, warm hands, kiss the skin on his neck, and look up at his handsome face with a gentle, tender gaze.
Thus, when morning arrived, and you both lay on the warm sand, turning toward each other, a quiet, shy voice said gently, "Allow me to go with you."
Your heart swelled, breath hitched in a tightened chest, seeing the pristine desperation beaming from his eyes. He sighed, feeling your fingers swirl the long, raven hair. "Do you know what you're asking for?"
He nodded, brushing the sweetness of your cheeks.
"You'll never be able to live above the water."
"I know," he added, eyes still kind and utterly hopeless. "I don't mind. As long as I can live with you."
And with a new, such strange feeling blooming in your heart, a soft okay, slipped past your lips.
There was a way to make him breathe underwater. Something sirens kept secret, never letting mortals know about such a deadly weapon.
"Drink my tears, then," you said, rolling him back onto your body. Till he hovered over you, with long, dark strands tickling your cheeks. "Make me cry, my sailor boy, and drink them."
Choso stared at your lovely face, taking in its divine beauty. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered innocently, and you giggled.
Your hands curled behind his neck, drawing him into a soft, dear kiss. "You fool, there's no need to hurt me." A mischievous smile lifted your lips as you once again raised your tail and rested it on his shoulder. "I can think of a few different ways."
And Choso, as a madman, could only follow every wish of his beloved, siren Goddess.
Dearest anon, I hope your wish was fulfilled! And that everyone else also enjoyed it <3
kinktober fics + prompts under the cut. by clicking read more, you consent to reading the following, without me being responsible for your choices. mdni, thank you very much.
fics where reader is the dom have been marked, which is dominatrix + crossdressing/cosplay. most fics will also have additional kinks sprinkled. this is a custom made list of kinks i wanted to write, any similarities to other kinktober prompt lists are purely coincidental.
kinktober list will be updated after the post, usually within 1m-3hr. if any of the kinks fail to work, search “rxsehearts-kinktober2023.” within my profile’s tag system, or notify me through my messages.
these should be all fem!reader unless last minute i decide otherwise, and should be bottom!reader as that is my preference to read/write.
kinktober fics will try to be scheduled for: est: 3:00pm | cst: 2:00pm | pst: 12:00pm | gmt: 7:00pm | act: 3:00am.
#third years x fem!reader : you could only put off their confessions for so long. expecting an answer, all of the men who had confessed approach you, only for it to end up as a free for all competition to see who really is the most compatible to be in a relationship with you. (ignore header, not repost)
mdni. cws: adult content, gangbang, double penetration, double penetration in one hole, fingering, anal, blowjob, handjob, oral, cum swallowing, bukkakes, creampies, hickeys, nipple play, panty sniffing, masturbation, use of stretching spell, two dick malleus, manhandling, spanking, light crying, overstimulation, (one) picture taking, cockdrunk, sex toy, more under the cut. nav. kinktober m.list
it felt like ages since everything had started, yet it had been less than a year since your first appearance in twisted wonderland. a world so different from your own, and despite everything you’ve been through, this may of been your hardest challenge. not because you were facing yet another overblot, nor because you were being put in a deathly situation. no, rather this was one that was the hardest because of the fact that you were sure you’d be able to survive the touches of eight very different and equally powerful men all at once. it may actually of been easier to take them in a physical fight, yet the words that slipped past your lips were contrary to your negative thoughts, encouraged by the warm fluttering of your cunt. “I’d be willing to try.”
you wished you could of covered your whole being as all their eyes were fixated on you. you had gotten confessions from each of them individually and had put it off, but they wanted their answer already. there was only so long you could ignore it. they weren’t stupid, they knew that each one of the others had likely done the same—confessed. it was a coincidence they all ended up at ramshackle at the same time, or so it seemed, but at some point the arguments between them ended up nearly breaking a hole through the wall as it felt like thunder was beginning to storm in the distance. you had tried to deescalate things, yet it soon evolved from unproductive insults directed towards one another to you being the centerpiece, a proposal of just finding out right now who really would be the best fit for you.
you thought maybe they’d take you on a date each, yet you knew deep down from their lustful expressions it would never be that innocent. the moment you responded, you signed off on this death wish and embraced what would unfold. if you didn’t want to make a decision before, you’d finally be able to do one after this, all of you reasoned. sexual compatibility was a part of a relationship, and each of the men were determined to be the one that convinced you to choose them. even the normally peaceful ones like trey and cater were motivated, and the ever shut-in idia had his competitive streak mode on, it was really going to happen. “just do me a favor and be gentle… i’ve never had this many people at once.” you request, casting your gaze to the floor as embarrassment eats you alive. you couldn’t see it, but there were a few wide eyes or surprised smiles that the men gave. they were originally going to do it individually, one after the other, but if you were suggesting a free for all, that’s how they liked it. this was night raven college, a fight like this was something everyone took seriously, especially with the prize being something each of them were so individually interested in.
you had expected them to have some sort of order to it, yet you should of known better as leona makes the first move in waltzing up to you, flicking his tail as he pulls off your shirt from behind you. your nipples harden at the feeling of the cold air hitting them, leona’s fingers giving them a tweeze as one of your eyes squeezes shut, letting out a moan followed by fingers pushing into your mouth. he had a smug grin, being the one who made the first move and attempt at claiming you as his own, palming at your breasts as his erection rubbed against your ass. “leona!” your muffle cries don’t go unheard, the other men feeling their jealousy begin to claw at them as they too, join in the fray. you feel leona’s fingers disappear from your mouth as they’re yanked by vil, his own cock pressing into your side as he tilts your head to his direction, giving you a firm and heated kiss.
his tongue pushes in and prods about, distracting you from what the other men are doing, attention focused solely on him as he deepens it. he tasted sweet, his gloss staining your own lips as he pulls away, leaving you in a blurry daze to recover before your attention is pulled into another direction, this time by malleus. he was not one to lose, his own jealousy clearly taking control as the thundering storms grew louder in the background, your wet panties discarded somewhere as he pushes leona aside, the two going elbow to elbow in an attempt to fight over touching your body. malleus presses a kiss to your lips, as though attempting to rid you of vil’s taste entirely. his fingers rub at your breasts while his nails occasionally scratch leona’s hands, but never directly your flesh. “mmng..!” you moan into his mouth with pleasure, feeling hot breath fanning at your cunt as a tongue laps at it. your hands subconsciously reach down, grabbing the hair of the other fae knelt between your legs, his cold fingers spreading your thighs apart for him.
your mind buzzes, delirious with the pleasure as your eyes momentarily meet rook’s, his hand stroking his cock with his boxers pulled down, his girthy dick leaking with pre as he watches, a flushed expression on his face as he marvels at the beauty unfolding. you don’t have time to call out or do anything with him, though, not when your hands are guided to cater’s aching cock and your lips wrap around trey’s. despite the two being the oh responsible and mature third years of heartslabyul, they were far from innocent and not the type to just sit back and stay docile in this scenario. instead they seem to have teamed up, keeping you focused on them as you began stroking cater, his precum acting as a lubricant as you begin stroking at his shaft, feeling his tip press against your chest, dirtying it all the while trey completely fills your mouth, his thick cock making your cheeks bulge slightly from the size.
you don’t even see as idia pockets away your discarded panties, giving them a smell before shoving them into his jacket, making sure it was safe and secure for a later use. your pussy clenches as your legs squirm and squeeze around lilia’s head, his tongue delving deeper into you as you moan, trey’s dick hitting the back of your throat as you try your best to take it, hands never once stopping their movements as one of them is pulled away and directed towards another, rook’s, now ending up with you double fisting both cocks in one hand each. your breasts are covered in marks from being groped and tweezed, malleus’ mouth latched onto one of your nipples, suckling on it like it was his last meal, making your eyes roll.
leona’s teeth sink between the crevice of your neck, leaving bright hickeys in its wake before he pauses for a moment to spit on his fingers. his fingers trail downward, prodding at your ass causing your eyes to go wide at the feeling, unsure if your ass was prepared for the invasion as he pushes in, pumping them in and out, not at all matching lilia’s rhythm. his fingers are rough and calloused unlike lilia’s smooth tongue, roughly stretching your ass to prepare for him as you feel yourself choking against trey’s cock, overwhelmed by pleasure. you knew at the start you probably wouldn’t survive, but it hadn’t even really begun yet. you technically only had one cock in you so far, and you started this all out fight so you knew it would be awhile.
“cum.. gonna cu…!” you slur on trey’s cock as the full treatment was sending you over the edge. lilia’s tongue was so deep, your body spasming while your strength completely leaves you, the men supporting your entire weight as you cum and squirt all over lilia’s face, the stimulation hitting you hard. he doesn’t stop, instead eating you clean out, not letting a single drop go to waste. your body shudders as trey let you have a minute to breathe and catch yourself before guiding you back to his cock, the pulsating and twitching giving you a sign that he was close. you speed up your rubbing and stroking, intent on making all three men cum together at once, squeezing your eyes shut as you aim their dicks at your face, taking trey as deep down as you can as he bursts, his cum stuffing your cheeks and spewing down the back of your throat, pumping the cocks in your hand as hot ropes of cum coat your face from both rook and cater.
your throat felt sore as you swallowed it all, sticking out your tongue as he pulled out, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock. it was hard to see your expression as cum covered your face, by your own volition, but you were in ecstasy. you feel your body positioned, between vil and leona as they both take a place at your prepped holes, your nails digging into idia’s hands as he holds yours, guiding your head down to his leaking tip. it looked to be covered in cum already, his fingers trembling as his signature grin widens, his delight growing as he watches you get stuffed at both ends. leona’s slick cock pushed into your ass, stretching it in a way you’d never felt, wanting to squeeze at and claw at him with every fiber you had, but you couldn’t even focus as vil’s equally intimidating dick pushed into your sopping cunt, slipping deeper and deeper until you were squeezing him hard. leona’s cock in your ass was already making you clench, but you weren’t sure if you could relax.
“aagh.. more!” yet again you betray yourself, pleading for more. their cocks were hitting such sweet spots inside of you, making you drool and whimper as idia’s cock kisses your lips, encouraging you to lick and suck on it, your fingers going to clasp around his slender hips yet found themselves wrapped around malleus’ cocks, the top and bottom one, encouraging you to give him a handjob as well. Idia’s and malleus’ hands both press against your head on opposite sides as leona gives you ass a smack to remind you of just where he was, and how he was stretching your ass so wonderfully full as he pulls out and all the way in, causing you to choke down on idia’s cock. thankfully, idia isn’t that large that you’re full on crying and gagging, but you still feel a few tears form at the corner of your eyes as you’re fucked into his cock. vil wasn’t one to let leona, or anyone, steal his spotlight though. his cock pulled all the way out and thrusted all the way into you, causing you to moan and squeal as both men begin pounding you in their own way.
vil was not too fast, taking his time, but there was a type of strength behind each of his thrusts. you never once forgot that he was a tall and strong man, and this moreso solidified that. his makeup was slightly smudged, only slightly as he grunted under his breath while his fingers massaged circles around your hips. leona was the opposite, rough and fast as he reached deep into your ass and gave you an out of body experience—like you were seeing stars swirling above head. he was hitting so deep inside of you and making you feel like mush, both the men snarkily commenting about each others’ performance as you continue to pump malleus’ cocks, your tired arms squeezing and pumping with all you got as cum dripped from your stained cheeks onto the floor, idia’s cock buried in your sore throat.
Idia was nowhere near lasting as trey was, stammering and blabbering about how sexy this was as his cum filled your mouth with a sweet taste, presumably from his bad diet. his hair was bright pink as he pulled out with a pop, your tongue licking at and cleaning what you could at his softening length, watching him return to shirking back down after the rush of adrenaline dwindled. he seemed to be reaching into the pocket of his jacket as lilia took his place, yet you weren’t going to back down, opening your mouth to welcome the next cock. he was surprisingly bigger than idia, despite the ignihyde dorm leader being one of the taller people there, but you could never judge a book by its cover, especially with lilia’s earlier technique.
as you bob on lilia, malleus cocks grow harder and only seem to get bigger the more you stroke at him. you knew he was a dragon fae but this shouldn’t be something that existed within the realm of possibilities. both were huge and littered in scales, his cum splashing against your chest every so often as you rubbed them faster, telling yourself that you’d never get this chance again so no way you were backing down just like that. not when the pleasure was at an all time high, leona’s teeth biting into you as his cum finally shoots and fills up your ass, leaving an imprint of his hand on your reddened ass as vil comes up your used cunt as well, finally allowing himself to now that leona had. his cum was hot and slightly watery, bits trickling down your wobbly thighs as they’re supported by another set of hands, trey and rook.
“merveilleux!” rook groaned, far more vocal than the other two from before as his flush cheeks press against your neck, planting his own kisses as he pumps his cock, guiding it to your cunt. from behind, trey had taken to support you, feeling your thighs for a long time as he slowly pushed his way into your ass. it didn’t hurt, in fact, you were desperate for friction by now. your hips buckle as you encourage the two men to fuck into you already. you were desperate for more, no longer scared of being broken, or of the outcome. whatever happens happens, and until the dam breaks you were going to enjoy it, lilia’s cock stuffing your mouth as you give malleus a few more strokes, pointing the cocks between your chest and face, having both areas stained with thick globs of his cum. his cocks were still hard as could be, yet lilia encouraged him to take a quick break, soon following after him as his cum fills your mouth, wiping your face off to clean you a little before giving you a break.
sandwiched between the vices, your ankles are hooked on rook’s shoulders as he drills his cock deeper into you than before, trey’s hands now obviously caressing and touching at the flesh of your dirtied thighs with delight as he rams into your ass, reminding you that he was more than a sweet upperclassman of his dorm. “fuck.. there, please ah!” you scream in pleasure as your nipples press against rook’s own chest, feeling him give them a pinch as his eyes squeeze shut, showing you the vulnerability of his heightened pleasure. words of praise sung from his lips as he encouraged both you and trey to all cum together, to let out your passion, and you do. you follow his instructions, your pussy clenching and body spasming as your next orgasm washes through you, eyes rolled all the way back as both men cum, filling your holes up, all the cum inside of you mixing together and you could swear you could feel every single bit of it every time you moved.
it isn’t long of a break you get, cater taking front and center in your poor pussy, with him taking a seat on the lounge sofa, placing you on top of him as he helps you ride his cock. he was sure you were tired of your previous position, so he’d be the one to help you out there and let you rest a little bit. it was like some kind of spell or enchantment was lifting you effortlessly up and down as you were sure cater wasn’t, his hands posing his phone as he smushed his cheek against you, your fucked out body on display. “smile for cay-cay, ‘kay?” he tells you, as you give him a fucked out blissful smile knowing that he would only use it as his own material and not do anything else.
idia soon returned with his cock hard again, laughing a little at the sight of you so overstimulated and cockdrunk, prodding at your ass as he made his way behind you. he wasn’t one to be counted out, and although he wasn’t the greatest with his magic he was with his creations, pulling out a small vibe and attaching it to your clit, to which cater whistled at. pushing his cock in, he easily slipped into your ass, so wet and stretched that he couldn’t help but coo in awe. he’d never expected he’d get such a chance, his teeth flashing as he hesitantly left a hickey on you, feeling as though there was no way he got this lucky. he didn’t even want to come today, he was just told through a text that he traced back to be cater that he’d really want to come to ramshackle today, or else he’d miss something huge involving you. he was just happy to be included in this plan, sure that you were unaware of what cater and all the other men had planned as you were bouncing on the diamond card soldier’s hard dick.
“mm.. hah!” you were a panting mess, the vibrator sending waves of pleasure through your clit as you squirmed and clenched, body thrusting itself onto cater’s wet cock so eagerly, tongue lolled out as he gives you a kiss, telling you that you were doing a good job. it was like a blur as the vibrator’s sensations got even more powerful, a scream erupting from you as your orgasm comes out, exhausted body collapsing as the spell wears off, your body refusing to move anymore even with its assist. seeing your beautiful expression, cater bit his lip, cum coming out quicker than he hoped as idia followed suit, pulling the vibrator off of you. he would of love to seen you keep it on, but this toy was covered in your cum and he was going to keep it for himself, no way would he let anyone else have it, along with that underwear of yours’ from earlier. he just had to get some merch to go with the live concert, after all.
although you were spent, there were two more men who had patiently waited. after all, to them something like that was barely anything in the grand scheme of life. “khehehe, look at you, you look ready to fall asleep.” lilia laughed as he helps shift you to be on his lap, his hard cock pushing against your ass. it was the last stretch, and you were determined to cross that finish line as you spread your legs, encouraging malleus to come closer. you weren’t sure he would fit even with all that prep, but lilia assured you that he would. the audience were fixated, wondering if you really would survive.
it was lucky that lilia said fae had a special spell for sex, since there have been a few humans who couldn’t handle fae before. you didn’t want to know how they perfected it, yet you were thankful as the stretching spell helped reduce the pain as malleus pushed not one, but two of his cocks into your pussy at once. you’ve had countless dicks this evening, but this took the cake. three fae cocks in you at once, saliva trickling down as you were clearly fucked out in bliss, no longer able to even think. your toes curled as your breath hitched, the dragon cocks filling you to new heights, the biggest one of the day. they were extremely girthy, pulsing and throbbing with need as malleus begun pounding into you with lilia following from behind, thrusting up into you and holding you with ease, as expected of the fae. the two held you in a daze, babbling nonsense as the cocks hit your sweet spots repeatedly.
malleus licked and kissed at your body, playing with your breasts and giving you affection as he praised you for taking him. lilia was a bit rougher, playfully leaving marks on you as he bit and sucked your nipples, the squelching and smacking of skin on skin echoing throughout the room. you had done well to survive so long, you told yourself. you no longer had that senseless pride, you were done, releasing your voice and moaning loud and hard. you were fucked into bliss, and you didn’t care anymore about even bothering to cross that finish line with a pep in your step. you were barely crawling there now, not even able to move as you let the two men fuck you stupid.
it feels like hours go by, not one or two, but three orgasms ripping through you by the time both malleus and lilia have cum once, their rhythms never falling out of sync, and never once hesitating. malleus’ cocks, true to their sight, ended up filling you with so much cum that it was leaking and leaking out, with no way to actually stop. lilia’s cum filled your ass and dripped out, your body too worn out and covered in cum to even hold any more. your entire body as limp as you made it, eyes fluttering shut as your breathing labors, completely forgetting why the men had even done this in the first place.
“uhm perfect, you awake?” cater asks as you fall into sleep, the men looking at once another before looking at you. you still hadn’t decided yet who was the one you’d choose as your partner, the men arguing amongst themselves over who had pleasured you best. well, if you still couldn’t decide upon waking up, there would just have to be another free for all.
tagging: @masquerade-of-misery @hanafubukki @blessingofthestars. we’re finally done. that’s wonderful, i’m going to have a huge nap. unless… well it is november next month after all. and we all did vote that we have new characters to add on, too. let’s just hope this november is a few months or years long.
synopsis: a collection of odd accounts of the strange and unseen and everything in-between - backshots from bigfoot? ghosts giving head? sucking off the abominable snowman? you'll want to believe after this!
pairings: various jjk!men x f!reader
content: mdni, smut and fluff and angst, monsterfucking, unprotected piv sex, creampie, knotting, oral (m! + f! receiving), all around insanity, sci-fi and fantasy elements included, more individual tags can be found in each fic!
mini-series
snowed in...starring yeti!Gojo x scientist!Reader (completed)
true love waits...starring nerd!Gojo x ghost!Reader (completed)
made for you...starring scientist!Gojo + scientist!Geto (completed)
breaking news!...starring mothman!Geto x journalist!Reader
jur-ASS-ic starring dino!Kuna + investor!Gojo
butterfly effect starring various jjk!men
oneshots + drabbles
take a bite!...starring vampire!Geto x f!Reader
two's trouble...starring clone!Geto x f!Reader
three's company...starring clone!Geto x f!Reader
test subject one...starring clone!Nanami x coworker!Reader
breaking up...starring alien!Sukuna x heartbreaker!Reader
bite sized...starring lovesick!Gojo x fairy!Reader
sweet tooth...starring vampire!Gojo x f!Reader
second base...starring virgin!Gojo x mermaid!Reader
betrothed...starring fairy prince!Sukuna x f!Reader
full moon...starring werewolf!Nanami x gf!Reader
devoured...starring villain!Sukuna x isekai'd!Reader
lost and found...starring spider!Gojo x hiker!Reader
bitten...starring vampire hunter!Geto x ex-gf!Reader x vampire!Gojo
slimed!...starring slime!Gojo
the aliens are cumming...starring alien!Gojo
four dicks, one human...starring alien!Gojo + alien!Geto
sex.exe...starring sex robot!Geto
bloody valentine...starring vampire!Geto
honey, i shrank myself...starring scientist!Gojo + scientist!Geto
▶︎︎︎ Feelin' On My Body (starring . various jjk men)
synopsis . In which you and your partner finally agree to free use. pairings (separate) . Sukuna x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Nanami x f!reader, & Choso x f!reader.
content . afab!reader, free use, somnophillia, modern au, oral sex, pussydrunk men, fingering, established relationships, dirty talk, manhandling, rough sex, degrading, unprotected sex, begging, choking, size kink(s), exhibitionism, throat fucking, pussy slapping, desperate men, thigh fucking, pervertedness, whining, them being overlyyy obsessed, praise, a bit of nipple play, filth, implied cum eating, etc.
word count . 8.8k || author's note: a singular twt vid inspired this post (technically sukuna’s part but eh) and i got a lil carried away in some bits (gulp)! banner art by Rororogi Mongera. <3
☆ Sukuna Ryomen
He’s woken up to his cock engulfed in something all warm ‘n wet, a sinfully slick tongue lathering up the side of his shaft—decorating his most throbbing vein in a sheeny gloss of saliva.
The thick pink of his brows begin to furrow as his brain struggles to depart itself from sleep, groggy eyes peeling open, and ears picking up on the nasty gagging ‘n swallowing coming from below.
When Sukuna looks down, he sees a head under the covers bobbing back and forth and back ‘n forth. Then he feels your mouth swallowing up his cock, the tip knocking into the very depths of your throat with the way he wastes no time in thrusting his hips forward.
A big hand comes to the back of your head over the thin sheet covering your face and you feel him hold you still as he instantly starts fucking your mouth.
“Why didn’t we agree on this sooner?” His bellowing morning voice breaks out into the wet silence, “Fuck, what a slutty tongue. Do you always wake up like this? All hungry for some cock?”
“M-Mhmm,” You squirm, throating his length with great fervor as his sudden thrusts take you by surprise.
Although you can’t see it, Sukuna flashes a wide grin before pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth and letting his brow furrow.
“Yeahh, I bet you do.” The man rasps, fingertips pressing into your head a little firmer, “You’ve probably wanted me to fuck your mouth first thing in the morning like this so many times, hm?”
Your throat tightens around him before you try tugging your head away, only to be stopped by a low grunt rumbling out of him.
“Ohhh, don’t take this away from me now. Come closer, let me give my wife’s throat a proper stretch.” Sukuna rasps heavily, a wet slick of precum dribbling out against the center of your tongue. You then swirl the oral muscle around his cock and feel it twitch in reaction. “Mhmm, love it when you spoil me like this.”
You can’t see it but your husband’s got the biggest grin on his face, cheeks tinted in a rosy hue and breath growing heavier by the second. His hips buck a bit harder and you could feel his rhythm steadily growing erratic as his cock swells further against the tight walls of your throat.
Thick spurts of salty precum flood into your mouth as you happily slurp over every ridge and vein pulsing down his dick. As your lips kiss his base, your nose is quickly left buried into the coarse hairs of pink at his groin. Your eyes roll further back into your skull and you release a moan in between your desperate sucks.
A guttural groan is ripped straight from his chest as his fingers begin to twist into the sheet over your head, anchoring your mouth in place just to feel the way your throat struggles around the thick girth of his cock. His tip smooches a little deeper and you're left to gag softly as a breath gasp jumps out of him.
Sukuna has always looved head, so to have you waking him up like this was nothing more than a wet dream come true.
One last thrust into your mouth takes place before there's a rope of warm cum pouring down your throat. His hand gets impossibly heavier against the back of your head and you swear you hear him choke before uttering, "Milk me, y-yes. Fuck, s'good."
Then a slight arch forms in his back as you swallow everything flooding into your mouth, earning a sinful purr out of his throat just before the thin sheet yanked away in one swift motion. Your flushed face and swollen lips are left exposed to his gaze and you try not to smile at how flushed his face is.
"Show me," Sukuna murmurs with a carefully cocked brow.
You obediently open your mouth and lull your tongue out flat to display the emptiness on it—no evidence of him ruining your throat left aside from the glistening traces of spit sheening over your lips.
The sight of you like this first thing in the morning doesn't fail in the slightest to have his cock twitching right back to life as if you'd never sucked him off to begin with. Sukuna's never had a long refactory period but fuck, you didn't think his cock would be curving up for your attention that quickly.
With a brash grin on his face, your husband casually gestures his hand your way as if to tell you to take care of him again. He's sure your mouth and throat are already tired but it'd be cute to actually see you struggle on his—
You're cutting off his train of thought by swallowing up his dick without the slightest bit of struggle. The way your mouth slops past his thick tip and suctions his length in to the deepest corners of your throat has Sukuna choking.
The moment you hear him do so, you flick your eyes up at him and let your tongue slather against the prominently throbbing vein resting at the left underside of his cock. Sukuna's hand curls into the sheet he'd pulled off of your head just moments ago and he weakly pushes his hips up and then tips his head over to the side.
In doing so, he just barely catches sight of how his dick is outlined against the clenching muscles of your throat.
"Fuckkk, that's it." He praises hoarsely before moving his shaky hands to the sides of your face. Then he steadies you completely and maintains eye contact with you for a couple seconds, smirk widening out across his face. "Swallow my cock juuust like that," Sukuna coos in between the next few slow rolls of his hips.
His hands tighten against the your face before he starts fucking himself into your mouth again, quickly picking up his once shallow pace, and letting his brows furrow at the sight. He watches closely as your eyes gloss over and specifically waits for you to gag loudly around his dick before he smiles.
Then Sukuna starts nodding as if to let you know he's about to cum and you don't think there's anything sexier than the face he makes every time he does. His brows would twist upward and his jaw falls open, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly while a louddd groan bellows out of his throat.
The feel of warm cum flooding down your gullet is just enough to serve as some form of breakfast for the morning and you're entirely content with that. Your husbands hips are relentless as he fucks his second load das deep as he can and you try your best to swallow every drop just as you did the first time.
Once Sukuna pulls out, you're finally allowed a moment to gasp and cough a couple times while he slumps back against the pillows.
It's quiet for only a few seconds before his head rolls over to spare you a glance and then his hand reaches out to cup your jaw and tilt your face up. Your lips are all swollen and slick, throat still tensing from the proper stretching he just gifted you with.
He thumbs at your bottom lip and then parts it to inspect the insides of your mouth again.
Making sure to whisper, “S’pretty,” as if to not let that go to your head and then moving to haul you up by your arm so he can lean in and kiss you—shamelessly licking at the corners of your mouth and capturing the few drops of his cum that somehow failed to run down your throat.
After quickly devouring your mouth to replace the taste of his cock with his tongue, his hands are felt at your waist, and he tugs you impossibly closer before hugging you. The gesture is unexpected—despite your many years of marriage—but his next few words make it all make a lot more sense to you.
“Next time, I should like to wake up and see you on top of me," Your husband demands.
You stare at him all innocently, “I dunno about all that, Sukuna.”
His somewhat affectionate stare quickly fades into a sharp glare, “I wasn’t asking.”
“Oh.”
☆ Geto Suguru
As soon as you sat up one morning, something thick ‘n sticky began to ooze out of you, warm rivulets of cum trickling down your inner thighs. The panties you had on the night prior? Gone, vanished without a trace. Your boyfriend of many years? Sound asleep next to you!
Just as you shift slightly, feeling the slick mess between your legs, the man in question begins to stir awake and releases a soft hum just as his eyes flutter open. Your gazes meet once he props himself up on one elbow, his eyes dropping before yours get the chance to as he catches the evidence of his indulgence seep out of you.
"Morning, sweet girl," He hums rather innocently before leaning up just to kiss at your cheek and whisper, "I left a little something inside you while you were sleeping.” Geto points out casually, “Hope you don’t mind.”
Truth be told, part of him hoped you would mind. He hopes you’d scold him for being soo perverted, despite the fact that you’re the one who told him you wanted him to use you whenever, even if you were asleep.
He hardly waited two days after receiving that consent of yours before he was fucking you while you dreamt of god knows what.
Even seeing you under the gentle glow of the morning's light, it's all he can think about. The way he'd spread your legs apart with insistent hands, feeling your unaware frame fall exactly how he needed it to whilst he positioned himself between your thighs.
Geto stuffed the thick head of his cock into your sleeping pussy, letting each inch stretch you out nice 'n slowly, your welcoming walls hugging him with a sloppy heat that made his breath hitch. Drool seeped from the corner of your lips as you readjusted yourself in your sleep, eyes remaining closed, and lashes fanning slightly against your cheeks.
The first thrust into you almost made him feel bad, considering how your body had rocked forward and your cunt clenched ever so sweetly around him as if to gasp.
“You’re s’good to me,” Geto mumbled into the dark room, “F-Fuck, look at you…” His hand went caressing across the side of your face before he tilted his head, “Don’t even know I’m inside you right now, huh?”
He couldn’t help but reel his hips back as he caught the faintest scrunch in your nose. Then he leaned over your body a bit, caging you underneath him and doing his best to hold back from fucking you like he really wanted to. Even though you weren’t awake to make fun of him for it, he still didn’t wanna cum too soon.
Geto’s cock plunged in a little deeper—slathering right against that spot he knows normally has your body arching away from him as if you couldn’t take it, “Would it be bad if I kept going til’ you woke up? Mngh.. you’d probably like that too much.”
Just then, your pussy decides to respond with a ringing squelch! around his cock as he bottoms out. You’re so wet around him that even the dark silks of hair decorating the skin just above his base is shimmering over from your slick. The bed below your bodies is already soaking and Geto nearly feels worse for knowing he’s doing all this to you and you’re missing it.
A pout pulls out his bottom lip for a moment before he shoots his gaze down some more just to watch your juices spill out all around his cock as he slowly rolls his hips back ‘n forth in a languid motion.
“Mmnh..” You’re grumbling in your sleep, but to him the noise sounds mostly like one of pleasure.
One warm breath falls from his mouth as he looks back up to your face, “Moaning in your sleep,” Geto whispers, stilling his hips a moment so that he doesn’t wake you. “So cute.”
While part of him wished you were awake to react and be in the moment of sex with him, the other part of him relished in having you so pliant. None of those whines you spew his way when you swear he’s going too fast or too hard or too slow or whatever-the-fuck. The list of complaints you teasingly throw your boyfriend’s way just to irritate or taunt him while he’s got his dick inside you is quite endless.
You once spent thirty minutes begging to suck him off just to complain about him “bruising your throat” the following morning.
Did you show all symptoms of having a bruised throat that morning? Perhaps. Is that his fault? Nooo, of course not!
Either way, Geto’s appreciating being able to fuck you while you’re sleeping. It’s a little surreal here ‘n there—considering how he’s talking to himself instead of talking you through it—but it’s enjoyable nonetheless.
Especially when your cunt seems to be wide awake as his pace picks up a little. You’re squeezing around him just how he likes it and it’s pulling the oxygen right out of his lungs, leaving him a panting mess above you within mere minutes.
Geto finds it moderately unfair how perfect you are for him even while you’re sleeping.
“Nngh-, shit. I’m gonna cum,” His brows furrow tightly, hands having found security on your hips in a neat fashion to keep your body a bit more steady for the way he rocks his lengthy dick into you. “You want that? My sleepy girl, you’re gonna wake up s’full of me.“
His rambles continue on as he grows closer to something creamy gushing out of his cock, words of filth flowing so naturally out of his mouth that anyone would assume it to be second nature to the man.
Then his tip crams up against a particularly sappy nook of your cunt and a whine squeaks past his lips, “Ah, imagine.. all my cum just leakin' out this pretty hole of yours.” Geto huffs as his hands trail further up your body just to give your tits a hearty squeeze, “Bet you’d call me a perv if you woke up right now—tell me how wrong it is to fuck you while you’re sleep...”
He knows that’s only half-way true, considering you did give him your full consent to this. But the thought of it. The thought of your eyes fluttering open with a gloss of confusion shimmering over them, your steady breaths quickly turning into panting moans, and your entire body awaking to your whorishly gorgeous boyfriend fucking you like the freak you’ve always known him to be…
That’s what gets him.
“You trust me so much.. hahh, fuuck..“ Geto chokes as the realization sends something sinful down his spine, his cock throbbing against your dormant walls, “Gets me so fuckin' hard I can barely think.”
Even though he’s keeping his voice pretty low, it’s getting harder ‘n harder to maintain that volume. You snore softly beneath him and somehow that makes your pussy feel all the more clenched around the head of his weepy dick.
“Mgh-, baby.. you’re getting tighter on me, c’mon now. I don’t wanna cum yet,” He puffs desperately, billowing his hips with slower thrusts as if to combat with your body’s natural reactions to him. “Relax that pussy for me, c’mon. Relax for Suguru, let me make you feel good.”
Your body does exactly that as if used to his cooing words—cunt adjusting to his size within the next few thrusts, oozing out slick all around his deft base as his balls are left flush with your skin.
“Atta’ fuckin’ girll,” Geto purrs hotly before letting his jaw fall open, “Uhuhh, you feel even better now. Can’t believe you listen to me even when you’re sleepin’.”
He thoughtlessly swishes a hand down in between your bodies, his thumb locating your clit and rubbing something utterly delectable into you. Something light like a moan escapes your throat and he worries for a moment that he’d just woke you up—his movements coming to a sharp stop.
When your boyfriend hears that alleged moan fade into another snore, he exhales slowly and then plucks his hips all the way back. His long cock bobs out of your pussy and the dew sight of slick ‘n filth alone is enough to make him draw his bottom lip in between his teeth.
Then Geto takes ahold of his shaft and pumps himself a couple times before tapping his tip against your puffy folds, swatting his cock in between them and then groaning out, “M’gonna cum. F-Fuuck, gorgeous…”
You just-so-happen to move in your sleep after he says that—unconsciously pushing forward and swallowing up his plump tip.
Geto’s face contorts into something just short of pornographic before he whines, “Y’gonna let me do that to you? Cum inside you while you’re sleeping? Ohmygoddd.”
Then he’s inching his hips forward as much as he can before cumming all inside your pretty pussy, leaving you nice and coated with his seed.
He had to put a hand over his mouth to conceal the sounds he’d let out in fear of waking you but right after he’s emptied himself into you, Geto pulls out and hastily holds a finger to your pulsing hole to stop his cum from spilling out.
Smirking, “You’ll probably wake up ‘n get soaked as soon as you feel what I left inside you….”
Which ultimately brings you back to now—the following morning where you’ve done exactly that.
You hadn’t minded what he’d left inside you at all. It may have been a little uncomfortable for you to sit up with the feel of gooey cum dribbling out of you in nasty globs but, it’s swiftly accompanied by dews of your morning arousal.
Then you were leaning back a bit and sending your boyfriend that looks he knows and loves, “Well? Are you gonna sit there ‘n stare at me all day or are you gonna clean up your mess?” You huff towards Geto.
His eyes seem to have a twinkle in them upon hearing those words, his body melting into position in between your legs faster than you have time to process.
You feel his palms come sticking to your thighs as he pushes them apart and swats his tongue over his lips, “You’re the one who said I could use you whenever I wanted. Don’t be such a brat about it, princess.”
Peering down at him, you cock a brow his way, “Yeah well, I didn’t tell you to leave your cum in me all night. Now less talking and more cleaning, perv.”
Oh fuck.
Do you even have any idea of what you just started?
Spoiler alert: no.
☆ Gojo Satoru
You made a mistake.
Giving your "sweet" husband Gojo the permission to bury his dick inside you whenever he wants was probably not in your best interest. Fairly enough, you'd given him that permission about a month ago now and he's only exhausted that free use a handful of times.
You expected him to be all over you nearly every night but, that simply wasn't the case. Instead, he waited for rather specific situations to pull the free use card.
Specific situations such as now, while you're laying across your living room couch with your phone pressed up to your ear. You'd received a call from one of your exes and now you're listening to him ramble on about how harshly life's been treating him since you left.
You swear you were seconds from hanging up the phone, but you were never quite given a chance to do so since the sound of your husband returning home from a long day of work pulled you out of the dully dragging, one-sided conversation. Before you could turn your head towards the hallway that led to the front door, you felt this sudden weight shifting down onto the backs of your thighs.
When you glanced back over your shoulder, Gojo was giving you this deceivingly innocent smile as his big hands moved to slide against your sides.
You gave him a greeting smile of your own before he leaned down to kiss at your forehead.
Then his ears caught the familiar voice on your phone.
He'd been no stranger to this ex of yours since you'd shared the many, many horror stories about what you'd experienced with the him over the years. But, Gojo wasn't in much of a mood to care or question you about it right now.
Not after the looooong day of work he's had—having spent the majority of it fantasizing about returning home to his beautiful wife.
Hence why it only takes one short push of his hips for you to feel the lump of his cock bulging out against his slacks and pressing into the cushioning of your ass. You gasp at it but quickly cover it up with a fake cough before the idiot on the phone could ask you any questions about it.
Then you look back at your husband again, only to find that all his attention is on your ass. His hands move to squish your cheeks together as he bites his lip, cheeks hued in blush just from how aroused he already is. Fuck, he'd been thinking about this—about you—all damn day.
And now you're in his hands, all soft 'n pliant for him. Gojo feels you glaring at him from just beyond his peripherals but he still doesn't care. In fact, he lifts one of his hands to wave your starring off entirely—silently signaling you to focus on your little phone call instead of what he's doing.
You let it slide for the time being and turn your head away with a roll of your eyes, humming into the phone in response to whatever your ex had last uttered to you.
This continues on for a few minutes with nothing unusual happening until Gojo smacks at your ass and you feel his cock rutting in between the valley of the two mounds. His pants are still keeping him constrained but it doesn't do much to conceal how much he's twitching beneath the fabric.
Nor does it aid with how hot you begin to get as he shamelessly begins to hump you. The sounds of his soft pants fan out from behind you and you're hoping this is all he'll do before he cums and leaves you to work your way off the phone.
Unfortunately for you, that's not at all what happens.
Gojo's hands get greedier as his dick gets impossibly harder and you feel his palms sneaking to your waist for a moment before he slips them right under you. Your stomach is given a soft squeeze as he smiles and then his hands are traveling up to your tits—successfully groping at them in sync with the rocking of his hips.
Sometimes you think he forgets just how big he is. Those long limbs of his are straddling your legs but that doesn't help with the weight of his firm body pressing down against you.
Then he has the nerve to crane over to your other ear. "Need you," Gojo whispers whilst his hips thrust lightly, his hands having snuck under your shirt by now.
He thoroughly cups your breasts and lets his fingers dig into your flesh while leaking an embarrassing amount of pre into his boxers—the moisture seeping through enough to leave a wet patch against his dark pants.
Before you can mute the phone to respond to him—or do anything, really—he's kissing at the side of your neck and muttering into your skin, "Gonna fuck you now, okay?”
As quickly as you can, you move the phone away from your ear and hope it doesn't catch your voice as you huff, “Satoru, wait.”
“Shhhh, you told me whenever I want, remember?” He cuts off quickly. His hands are moving right after he says that, reaching the flimsy waistband of your bottoms and tugging them down along with your moderately soaked panties to reveal your naked skin.
You look back with a pout on your face, gesturing slightly towards your phone, “But—“
Gojo meets eyes with you shortly while his hands fly to his thick belt to tug it out the way and then unzip his pants. His chin nods towards that pesky call of yours, “Who is that anyway?” He asks as if not already aware.
“Uh," You swallow thickly, "Remember uhm… Naoya?”
Unbothered, your husband flashes a smile. “Ohhh, that’s your ex, right?” He hums back to you. Your head nods in response and he scoffs in between his fingers steadily unzip his pants, “Fuck's he want?”
“He said I-, ah—Satoru..” Your breathy moan was prompted by the heavy thump of his cock against your ass with all its veiny weight as Gojo lets it bob and then slap at your cheeks.
Still looking at you, “He said you what?” Gojo asks.
Your lashes flutter—and despite the hushed back and forth going on here, your clueless ex is still talking to himself on your phone. “—Said he found some stuff I left over at his place, and then went rambling on from there.”
You mostly expected this to be the part where Gojo acts out of possessiveness or jealousy, but to your surprise, he only shrugs. "Why didn’t you hang up?”
“I was curious," You tell him honestly.
He nods, “Oh yeah?”
Your eyes drop to the way his hand is rubbing along his cockhead, smearing his own pre around his pinkened tip and leaving it to glisten under the dim living room lighting.
Then you gulp, “...I figured something might be wrong, but he’s just talking to me n-normally,” Your stammers come from his cockhead shhlicking down between your folds, kissing your hole all sloppy.
“Mh. Alright,” Gojo murmurs, nodding his head toward the phone again as his attention falls elsewhere, “Keep listening to him then.”
“But I thought you wanted to—“
His hand finds the back of your head all of a sudden and he pushes your face down against the couch cushions a bit, doing so to muffle the expected moan that’s ripped out of your throat as he bucks his hips forward all meanly.
“You heard what I said.” He warns as he watches you shakingly obey via drawing the phone back up to your ear. “Uhuh, don’t even worry about me, sweetheart. Just let me use this pussy til’ I’m satisfied. Pretend I’m not even here.”
It’s quite difficult to do that as Gojo wastes no time sprawling the lips of your pussy out around his wide shaft. Those gorgeous white lashes of his flutter in relief as he first begins to feed his cock into your cunt, eyeing the way you suck him in despite having to bite down on the couch to stop yourself from moaning directly into the phone call.
In courtesy of said call, your husband is even nice enough to go easy on you!
…For the first few minutes, anyway.
It doesn’t take much longer before his hands are properly anchoring your body down against the couch via your hips and his thrusting is timed perfectly with each time you try to open your mouth and speak to that stupid ex of yours.
The first few times you were able to play your moans off as a cough and told the bummy Naoya that you’d probably come down with a cold or something. You knew if you tried to work your way off the phone—even though you’d been doing so long before Gojo got home—your husband would probably punish you by edging you til’ your legs lost functionality in them and your pussy was a leaking mess all over this very couch.
So, you did your best to maintain the one-sided conversation for as long as you could. The only bad thing about it was that your talking and moaning made you squeeze Gojo’s cock all the more tighter and he fucking loved it.
He just couldn’t get enough of how wet this was getting you—how you seemed to relish in this kinda situation. It quickly let him know that this should be a reoccurring thing he does.
Free use is one thing, but executing it only when you’re talking to someone else was definitely in Gojo’s best interest now.
So in between him purposefully waiting until you’re mid-response to fuck you harder, he’d angle himself over and talk into your other ear all nasty, “Yeahhhh, you like this, don’t you? Getting fucked real good while that pathetic ex of yours rambles to you? Makes me wonder if you’d be this wet if I did this more often—fuck you while you’re on the phone…”
Then his hand would come down against your ass again, the smack surely loud enough to be heard on the phone.
“What was that?” Naoya’s grating voice asks through the call.
You bite down a little harder on the bit of cushion you already had in between your teeth so you could drool out a moan before lifting your face up and gasping. “M-My husband dropped something. Don’t worry about it,” You breathed out.
The man on the other end of your phone didn’t seem too convinced but he was in the middle of explaining something before he interrupted himself with his own question so, he returned right back to the topic.
Gojo’s lips curl against your ear—having picked up on the sly way in which you tried to remind Naoya that you’re married, clearly hoping that it would get the call to end sooner.
“Should I wait til’ you get a call from work next time?” He grunts into your ear just as his cock knocks into your cervix, smearing the area over with a glimmer of his glossy precum. “Think you could hold in your moans if I did that?”
You mindlessly move the phone away from your mouth and let your maw hang open as you look back at him, “Toru..”
Gojo gives you a toothy smile before shaking his head and tugging your body back to meet his heavy thrusts, “Uh-uh, answer my question.”
His hand then tugs your face all the way up by your jaw and the phone falls as he plows into you. In doing so, he also manages to force your body into this nasty arch against the couch that has all noises heard by your ex on the phone.
You even hear Naoya’s sentences fall short as he pauses for a long moment and listens closely. Then, “The fuck is that noise—“
Plap plap plap!
The smacking of Gojo’s hips to your ass is picked up by your phone in the best of quality, each slap of skin heard perfectly by the man on that call.
Eyes narrowing on his end, even though you can’t see it, Naoya glances at his phone sideways and his face twists up, “—Are you…”
“Mmgh! Fuuck, Satoruu,” You choke out helplessly. “R-Right theree, ah!”
The sudden encouragement from your lips is exactly what eggs Gojo on into grunting all loudly and leaning his body up. The prone bone position you two have been neatly tucked into this entire time is unmoving as he continues to pull you back onto his cock.
He moans upon feeling you cumming around him and leaving this creamy mess all over the thumping veins that decorate his length.
Shamelessly talking at a normal volume as if that call of yours isn’t ongoing. “There she iss, there’s my perfect wife.” Then Gojo reaches over and swipes up the phone, talking right into it, “Sounds s’pretty doesn’t she?”
Naoya’s spewing and sputtering out curses to the both of you but Gojo tosses the device faster than he has time to hear or care. Then his hands pin you down against the couch by your waist and his bucking becomes insistent.
The couch moves slightly, scraping the floor with how rough he was being before Gojo lets his leg slide off slightly so he can steady himself. Then one of his hands move to the side of the couch to hold it still while his dick angles somewhere to the left inside you.
You sometimes forget just how big ‘n strong your husband is—how easily he can fold your body and handle the janky movement of furniture at the same time. And it seems you’d forgotten it so much that now you were trying to run from him a bit.
He notices how your hips pull away whenever he tugs them onto himself and the cute attempt makes him grin. To distract you from your futile attempts of escaping him, Gojo weighs his head to the side and huffs, “You uh, you never answered my question, sweet thing.”
Your eyes roll back almost instantly and the man feels his heart throb at how pretty you look getting fucked out on him already. “Yes, ‘Toru. Hnngh-, fuck! I’d love it if you-, ohmygod… i-if you did this more often,” You moan to him.
“Babyyyyy,” Gojo coos, pearly sloshes of cum quickly pouring out from the head of his cock but not stopping nor slowing that bullying pace of his, “That’s so slutty of you. Wonder where you got that from.”
You just barely send a glare back his way. “D-Don’t act innocent.”
His brows shoot upward and he grins cheekily, “Hmm?” It’s almost like he wasn’t actively flooding your insides with cum. “Are you implying that I turned you into this?” You nod and he tuts, “Say it then.”
You hated loved when he challenged you like this—as if you were scared to admit it or something. Swallowing down your moans firmly enough to breathe, “You did this to me, Satoru.”
That dopey smile of his returns to his stupidly angelic face and he’s fucking his cum into you real’ good whilst talking, “Oh yeah? What’d I do, baby? Talk to me nice.”
“R-Ruined me,” You cry out with drool dribbling out from the corner of your mouth, “Turned me into a slut for you.”
“Fuck yeah I did,” Gojo replies proudly. Then he looks down and rocks his hips forward before stilling himself inside you just to feel you clench and unclench around him. “Now, are you gonna cum for me again or do I have to get that ex of yours on FaceTime?”
Your eyes widen, “You wouldn’t.”
“Hah,” The phone he tossed earlier is swiped right back up and you hear that signature ringing faster than you have time to process anything.
Naoya answers after only two rings. Though, it should be noted that he never even hung up the regular call.
“The fuck?” He spits as he’s met with your husband angling the phone up just right to show his smothered cock tucked inside you.
Gojo moves to tap at your head next, meeting eyes with you for half a second once you glance back at him, “Smile for me, sweetheart.”
☆ Nanami Kento
“You said anytime I want, my love.”
You didn’t think he would finger you while you had company.
It was movie night with a great deal of your friends scattered around your shared living room and yet here your fiancé was forcing your legs to spread open while you sat on his lap.
Two thick fingers were idly rubbing against your pussy over the fabric of your panties—a small blanket the only thing concealing the sight.
You whispered back to the man as quietly as you could, not wanting to deal with what was to come if anyone around you two figured out what exactly was going on under that blanket, “Kento this is absurd!”
“Shh, shh," Nanami hummed deeply, his eyes trained forward just over your shoulder whilst his fingers continued with their motions, "I can’t hear the movie.”
A frown took over the shape of your lips, “But—“
Already annoyed, “Shut up,” He cut off before glancing away from the TV screen to make sure no one was looking at you both. With no peering eyes found, he decides now as a good time to stuff your mouth full of his free fingers. “Isn't this so much better? Now suck.”
Your cunt twitched against the digits he had neatly rubbing against you and he took that as a sweet reply from you, your lips slowly molding around his fingers before you bobbed your head forward ever so slightly.
You made sure to keep the sounds of your sucking to a quiet slurp that could easily pass off as one of you sipping on something—and this surprisingly worked just fine for the next few minutes.
...At least until Nanami pulled your panties to the side.
Then his fingers lifted away from your skin for a few seconds to allow your poor pussy a moment to throb 'n clench around nothing before he smacked! at it lightly. The wet plp that rang out into the space surrounding you both surprisingly wasn't loud enough to cause any heads to turn.
Which, of course, was what you preferred.
But it did cause you to moan, "Ken," as his fingers fell from your mouth.
Nanami suppressed a groan but he couldn't quite stop his crotch from shifting under your ass. The hand that'd been occupying your mouth fell for a moment as one of your guests looked into your direction—to which your fiancé kindly sent them an innocent grin and then glanced to you as if you two had been having some casually whispered conversation that totally didn't involve him playing with your pussy.
He tipped his mouth up to your ear for a moment and made sure his words didn't escape the space between you whatsoever, “They’ll catch on if you keep moaning my name like that.”
Despite his warning, he purposefully begins to feed his thiiiick fingers past your dewy entrance—which accepts him nicely via squelching hotly in between your thighs.
“Fuck,” You whine after bringing some of the blanket up to cover the bottom half of your face.
As if that would properly conceal your sounds or something...
Nanami's behind you grinning as his free hand fingers your hip and forces your body to push back 'n forth against the very prominent erection in his pants, “Can you feel me? Feel what this does to me?” He asks softly, breath cascading down the side of your shoulder now, “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this all day. Seems like you have too.”
Just as he points that out, he's poking two fingers into your cunt and letting the tips of them swipe against your sopping walls—earning a gorgeous gloss of liquid arousal to spurt out from where you're currently connected.
Your body naturally slumps back against his a bit as your legs sprawl out some more over his. “Please...” You huff, unsure of what exactly you were even begging for.
“Your squirming will only make it worse, y'know," Nanami warns far too kindly.
“Nngh-," You moan again.
It's almost like you were caring less and less about the surrounding company!
“You're a mess, my love. Can you really not handle a couple fingers without my others in your mouth?” He sighs, sparing you no time to answer, and letting his fingers scissor out against your walls as they dig further into you.
He easily fucks himself knuckle deep and leaves his pointer and pinky to press into the plush of your surrounding skin.
Then, after plugging your mouth up with his digits yet again—since you can't seem to behave without them—his whispers felt like warm honey against your ear, "I suppose this means I can go faster now, no?"
“Mmgh!” Your grumbling around his digits truly has his cock aching in his pants. But he doesn't want to fuck you in front of everyone like this.
At least, not yet.
Though, the thought is most definitely tempting.
You figure this much based on how taunting his voice soothes out against your ear again, “Do you want them to see you like this, darling?” Then his fingers slide against the center of your tongue whilst his others curve into your cunt, “Should I move this blanket and let them?”
Your head shakes frantically and you even move a hand of your own to push at the one he's got buried in between your thighs, inaudibly begging for some sort of break or moment to at least gather your thoughts.
“Ohhh, don’t do that.” Nanami purrs in this suddenly condescending tone, tongue peeping out past his lips to lick a stripe against the side of your neck. Then his words feel just as warm and feverish as his breath is all pressed up against your skin, “I think you want it. You want me to toss this blanket and let everyone here watch me fuck you.”
“M-Mmph!” You grumble before slithering your tongue in between the fingers he's got lodged past your wobbly lips.
“Look at you, practically crying for it," He adds on in reference to your currently sobbing cunt. If only he could see how wet you had his slacks right now. Feeling it is one thing, of course, but he knows setting his eyes on it directly is another thing in itself entirely. “You want all our neighbors to see how pretty you look bouncing on my cock?”
Nanami slides his fingers out of your mouth just to let you respond with the quiet whimper of his name, “Kento..”
“I want them to see," He admits naughtily, “Want them to watch how wide I stretch you, watch how I make this pretty cunt squirt… shit.” Now his fingers were diving in and out of you at a faster rate, sloshing left 'n right each time they came out to slander your slick all over the place.
A friend or two surely caught on to what was happening under that blanket by now.
But... you think both you and Nanami lost it in yourselves to care enough by this point.
Which is confirmed and doubled down on as your head angles back and you lose all your senses with the way you kiss him.
Nanami groans lowly into your mouth, the sound vibrational. Then he sears his next array of admissions in between your lips, “Mmh, I knew it. You want it too, huh?”
“Yeah,” You huff, nodding slightly.
Neither of you were thinking things through at all. Moreso him than you, though.
Which is proven in the next number of minutes just after Nanami adjusts his cock out of his pants and works it past your quivering ring of resistance in slow motion. The wide stretch had your body squirming all over the place and the hand that covered your mouth was most certainly a necessity by this point.
Although one or two people in the room had caught on to what might have been happening between you and Nanami, they couldn't be entirely sure just yet. It was still dark in the room and the TV was loud enough in the moment to mask your muffled cries of pleasure.
“If you moan too loud, I’m moving the blanket and fucking you in front of everyone for real," Nanami warned—trying his best to at least let you try to give this a solid attemp-
“K-Kennn,” You whimper beyond the palm of his hand, killing that attempt entirely.
With a scoff, “Oh. You don't think I'm being serious, do you?”
One moment his cock is fully inside of you and the next... the blanket flies off.
Shit.
☆ Choso Kamo
Legs pressed up to his chest, thighs clasped together tightly, and something hot ‘n rock hard rutted in between them—occasionally nudging in between your folds and against your clit—you were woken up to the sight of your rather depraved boyfriend fucking your thighs.
Whimpering as quietly as he could, “FuckFuckFuckFuck-, nnngh… fuuuck-,” Choso gasped all pathetically.
The two of you had been napping and cuddling together just minutes ago but then he woke up so painfully hard with his cock already crammed up against the pretty curve of your ass. He just couldn't help himself!
And surely you didn't expect him to ignore his boner when you specifically told him that if he ever needed you, he could have you—no matter the place or situation.
So when you turned over in your sleep and he saw how nicely your thighs were hugging one another, he just couldn't help but imagine what his flushed cock would look like smudged in between them. He's already shown you time 'n time before that he's dangerously obsessed with your thighs.
Well, technically he's obsessed with all parts of you but, something about your thighs make him dizzy in his own arousal. Every time Choso has you riding his face, his hands are always groping and squishing your thighs. And he can't deny how attractive he thinks it is when you've just finished sucking him off and his cum spills down past your face and into the perfect crease of your clamped legs.
Which is exactly why he didn't waste much time repositioning himself so that he could hold your legs up now and slowly nudge his dick in between your legs. He tried to be careful of rubbing against your cunt as he held your limbs up against his chest with one bulky arm, the other propped somewhere to the side of him so that he'd be in a decent enough position to thrust against you.
“S-So pretty,” Choso grunted as he saw just how much he came already. Creamy globs of cum coated the entirety of his cock and smeared all nastily along your inner thighs, making it easy for his still-rigid length to slide back and forth now. All while he whispers, “I love you, baby. Love f-fucking you like this.“
His pelvis would clash with the back of your legs over and over again, the rough motion hard enough to have your torso rocking further up against the bed. If not for the pillows he adroitly set behind your head prior to getting off with your legs, you surely would've woken up from the top of your head knocking into the headboard.
Luckily enough for Choso, you wake up from feeling the other thing he'd been trying to avoid—the friction his cock created against your pussy.
It was an accident, really. He wanted to use your thighs really quickly and then go back to cuddling with you as if nothing ever happened but... well, after he came the first few times he was still hard.
He had to do something about it, right?"
“Go faster, Cho,” You're heard murmuring while your sleepily rub over your eyes, “C’mon, if you're gonna fuck my thighs like this then do it properly.”
“O-Ohh shiiiit,” Choso's breath gets tangled up almost immediately. He saw that you started to move and knew you were waking up but he didn't expect you to start talking to him like that so abruptly.
Then you give him a cute, but groggy smile as he mindlessly follows your instructions and picks up his pace, “There you go—good boyyy.”
Choso's eyes roll back and his hips are moving uncontrollably now. He probably would've ended up like this even if you didn't say anything but fuck, now that you have? Oh, the poor man was done for.
“Gonna cum,” He pants, watching through glossed eyes as you move your hand out to stroke at his cock each time it slots through the small gap he's created in between your thighs, “Gonna cum on you-, shit. Your thighs are s’warm.. They-, hahh-,” He’s cut off by you squeezing your legs—his eyes rolling back, headboard knocking up against the wall, and raw, husky groans pouring out of him.
Then you watch silky strings of cum spurt from his flustered tip, landing all over your torso, and even flying up to hit your mouth a little.
Choso's brows are left taut as he tries his best to keep himself from falling over on top of you and tugging your pajamas off just to plop his creamy cock inside you. Instead, he maintains his balance just fine and sways his head to the right before looking down at the way his dick is rubbing against your core again.
“Does it feel good for you too?” He pants cutely, doe-like eyes running up to your face, “Can you still feel me there? Against your pussy?”
You've clasped your bottom lip in between your teeth by now and your hand is left wet from his cum but you still manage a nod in response. To which Choso releases an eased sigh.
Then he leans up to properly, keeping his body steady on his knees and wrapping his other arm around you to come and pinch your clit somewhere in between his somewhat jittery grinds.
“Choso,” You call out in surprise, your hand flying down to hold his wrist.
He flashes this fucked-out little grin your way, answering his own question, “Mhmm, you cann. Fuck, you’re so wet from this.”
You let off a moan and then smile right back at him, “So are you.”
“Uhuh,” He gasps, “A-Always wet for my girl.”
You giggle at his dazed way of speaking now, wondering distantly just how many times he came while you were sound asleep, “I don’t think that’s how it works, baby.”
Choso's eyes soften in awe of you. “Don’t laugh at me,” He says with his plump bottom lip begining to poke out.
You gesture your hand out for him to come closer to you, “Awh, c’mere. Don’t pout.”
Casually ignoring you, your boyfriend naturally presses your legs down flat against your chest and his cock pops out from in between your thighs, dangling in the air with a drooling string of cum dripping from his flushed head.
Then he uses his strength to hold you down with one hand, the other grabbing ahold of his dick and letting it pat against your pussy—watching the way your plump lips press out around his shape through the fabric of your panties.
“You’re soaked from all that," He points out, noticing how the majority of your underwear is a dark shade indicating just how wet you'd gotten from waking up to his actions.
“Choso..." You murmur as you unconsciously send him a frown.
He looks up at your face, “Aw, now you’re the one pouting.”
Accompanying his words is a steady build up of something sloppy rubbing back 'n forth against the outline of your pussy. He doesn't really feel like taking your panties off or even moving them out of the way just yet, wanting to drag out your need for him as punishment for your first act towards him being those taunting words you threw his way earlier.
“Stop teasing,” You end up whining after the first few slips of his dick.
Normally you'd be all for this kinda thing but considering you woke up and immediately got horny from seeing your boyfriend finally taking advantage of the free use you'd given him months ago, it was a bit difficult for you not to be impatient now.
Choso lets out a hot breath as he decides to try something a little different. You'd already seen enough of his pathetic needy side for the day so, he figures it's time he switches it up now. Rasping out a rather commanding, “Say please.”
“Please?” You beg instantly while sending him that look you know makes him absolutely weak for you.
For the first time in foreve, Choso manages to ignore that look of yours and tips his head back a bit while thrusting his cockhead in between your drooling slit—bumping his own against your clit. “A little more than that,” He requests in a softened tone, “Say, ‘can I please have your cock, choso’?”
“I…” You swallow thickly at first—caught entirely off guard by his specific request. The worst part about it was the fact that you know he felt the way your cunt went twitching and clenching in reaction, yearning to be stuffed full of him sooner rather than later, “Can I please have your cock, Choso?”
“Good girl," He hums in between the slightly shy smile he sends down to you, "Now you get your reward."
Your panties are torn right off within the following moment. Choso hadn't exactly meant to rip the fabric off of you like that but, y'know, he was still just as needy for you as you were for him.
He couln't help himself!
When his cock finally begins to push against your hole, he breaks your legs open and displays this whorish look you've never seen from him before. Sounding far too confident as he hums, “Gonna fuck you til’ you’re wishing I kept using your thighs now, princess.”
As if he doesn't end up cumming not even a minute after being inside yo.
Synopsis. “Here ye, here ye—a royal wedding is upon the horizon!
The uniting of two kingdoms long held in fierce battle: hybrids and humans. At the first light of sunset His Majesty, King Gojo Satoru, the sole snow leopard hybrid in all the lands, shall wed Her Royal Highness, the princess: you.
For one moon the princess shall have to succeed - or survive - in marital bliss with the King, in order to commence peace negotiations between the two kingdoms.
But remember, dear princess, no matter how gentlemanly a hybrid may seem…they still remain hybrids. They possess powers. They undergo ruts.
And humans aren’t built to handle them.”
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!princess!reader, snow leopard hybrid!Gojo, hybrids AU, royalty AU, he’s the cruel king of the North, King!Gojo, pIot, worldbuilding, humans vs. hybrids, poIiticaI marriages, arranged marriages, for the good of the people, reader is lowk a BAMF, YEARNING Gojo, paintings, palaces, setting descriptions, RÚTS, pheromones, hybrid tendencies, he goes FÉRAL, first times (both), sIight bIood, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Gojo, fíngering, spítting, hoIding you down with his tail, stopping you from running, p talking, rings, manhandIing, matíng presses, bréeding, making him BREAK, making it fit, cervíx smoochin, dúmbificatíon, p worship, HEAVY overstím, Gojo’s powers, creampíes, cúmpIay, KNOTS, implied marathons, fated mates, confessions, HAPPY ENDING, pet names swéaring.
Word count. 17.4k
A/N. PHEWWWWW y’all knew I just had to-
White dress.
Rouge.
Soaps and scents from all over the world.
Milk bath. The concoction of pale liquid stretches around you like a neverending sea; in a bath tub just as vast, with flower petals locked in a constant state of battle against the torrential waves of your attendants scrubbing you down to the very bone.
Above the seething splashes, your mother’s droll tone emanates—veering into her fourth hour of pacing the royal bathing chambers now.
“—such an unseemly arrangement- but of course, we ought not to have expected anything more from a hybrid.” Her lip curls in distaste, “The Ton might even consider it scandal- and yet, I fear we have no choice in the matter. Not with him.”
“Yes, mother.”
“Not even the kingdom’s best advisors could negotiate his terms, my dear.”
“Yes, mother.”
“This is the only resolution remaining for the kingdom.”
“Yes.” For who was to go against the Queen?
In just an hour’s time, you’ll be married to King Gojo Satoru.
Gojo Satoru.
The infamous ruler of the Kingdom of Hybrids.
The shadow looming over your kingdom.
The last snow leopard hybrid alive.
There was a reason to that that made your heart clench—you’d felt the floor fall out of your history lesson the second it’d been taught to you. Legend said that your people had hunted down every last snow leopard hybrid after discovering that the opposing kingdom’s monarchs were of that family - every last one.
Except for one.
It was unsure how or when Gojo Satoru had escaped during the massive conflict, but your people had gotten their penance once he’d returned - stronger than ever - and declared battle.
But you didn’t want to think about that right now- not when all that led to were thoughts about just how the patriot might enact revenge for it upon you.
The Kingdom of Hybrids and the Kingdom of Humans have sat beside one another since the dawn of time, and so has the resentment between the two. It has always been ever-present and ever-growing. Your ancestors, and your ancestors’ ancestors. Like the overpass of frothy white clouds hovering through your blue, blue skies above—churning into dark storm clouds and blizzards once they reached the gloomy land of the neighboring kingdom.
The opposing kingdom always seemed colder, always seemed crueler.
And you were sure that the primary reason for that was the geographical difference between the two: your kingdom sat at the bottom of a mountain, where the valleys were fertile and nature flourished. Whereas the Kingdom of Hybrids was scattered in large, stone towers and huts across the enormous mountain range.
Only sharpening in weather and bite the further up the mountain one went. Its peak was completely obscured by clouds, and not even on the clearest day could you spot the spirals of where Gojo Satoru’s palace - aptly named the North Palace - was rumored to be.
Out of morbid curiosity, you did sneak a glance every day. Hell, you even fixed a lantern from your royal chambers—perhaps hoping that someday you might witness a lantern blinking back.
Though that was an experiment yet to bear results - you haven’t spotted even a single hybrid subject coming out of those hard stone homes. It was as if a ghost kingdom.
Even if the news from the front lines clearly stated otherwise.
The hybrids obscured themselves with snow and fog. Cloaked themselves in storms that sent trundling vibrations even to your palace. Residents of a perpetual winter that tore through their kingdom - even the stray gusts of air from the mountain made your subjects shiver, you couldn’t imagine what it was like to be borne and passed in such a state.
Borne and passed, because it was forbidden for subjects of either kingdom to cross into the other.
As all good neighbors must, your ancestors had raised a barrier separating the two lands for good; a thorny forest about seventy feet high and several towns’ length wide. It was made of thorned trunks about the size of boa constrictors. Plunging into the clouds with their barbed limbs as though to make the world pay for ripping apart the one body of the land into two parts.
Though if you made such a comparison in any of your tutoring classes, you knew you’d be punished forthright.
It wasn’t a surprise when the resentment had exploded in the coming years.
By the time you were in your teenage years, announced as next in line to the throne, Gojo Satoru had already taken the mantle as king. And that was when the conflict had started.
Hybrid warriors attacking the outskirts of your kingdom. Your own feverish subjects bloodthirsty to set fire to their sparse farms.
It’s been a long and cruel battle.
You could sit here and recount the history lessons that your palace tutors had drilled into you - all those sabotages of war plans, all those attempts to oust either throne. The time your locals had been attacked by a ravenous pack of wolf hybrids, and the time your subjects had cut through the barrier, and clamored up the mountains just to spear through some of the prey. Hybrids with a taste for humans, and humans that bled no warmth. Blood and gore. Blood and gore.
There never flourished a fruit sweet from blood and gore.
And the roots of the thorn barrier had been watered with such for ten years now. More from your own kingdom’s people than his.
Why had it even started? One could only guess.
You knew what the royal history tutors proclaimed - this was because of their hybrid powers, they’d been poisoning the wells and farmlands with their mystique, they’d been kidnapping humans for nourishment - but you also knew that those of the other side must proclaim something far different. Have conflicting stories ever settled on one answer? One truth?
Most definitely not. Battle only gave one answer, and the question was what numbers were lost.
Luckily for your kingdom, however, the end of the fighting was nigh.
It had happened last week—the letter.
Just a day after you’d been announced to take up the throne in the upcoming week. The next Queen.
The resurgence of the people.
On a day when the fighting was stalled, and it wasn’t looking pleasant for your side: a sole hawk hybrid flew between those winding thorns, scratches upon his wings from the long flight, a white handkerchief of surrender tied around his neck.
The arrow upon your kingdom’s front lines had raised the moment the flapping of wings became clear. Drew closer.
If not for the wave of surrender, you weren’t sure what would have happened - Gojo Satoru was not the type of ruler to stand for a single one of his subjects being harmed. Especially one so seemingly harmless. And your lines of soldiers had been pushed back in the last few months…they wouldn’t have stood a chance.
The soldiers had shuddered as the half-human, half-bird creature drew nearer—something mythical from their storybooks, their greatest nightmares.
You hadn’t been there alongside them that day, and Commander Masamichi Yaga was the one to take the first step towards him. A handkerchief of white held in his own hand.
The two had met in the middle, you’d heard, on your side of the nation.
There, the hook-nosed Commander - or so you’d heard from the whispers of the soldiers that had been there that day - had handed over the envelope. It was a snow-white parchment, cool to the touch; so starkly empty except for the slight heft in its weight, and the single, slanted line of blue cursive on its back.
To the future Queen.
A carriage had been called immediately to the royal palace.
Higuruma had flown off thereafter, and the Commander had set off down those high-ceiling, gold-capped corridors of the palace. At once.
You remember exactly where you’d been when you first saw the letter - in the circular meeting table with your royal advisors, poring over your nth war tactic that day. You’d just opened your mouth to suggest another treaty proposal between the two kingdoms - your strongest men and women and every warrior in-between couldn’t possibly last much longer against the formidable foe - when Yaga had barged in—his face solemn, his body bowed, his hand trembling where he held that unopened letter.
And at first, you’d assumed that something had gone horribly wrong - that your subjects had been harmed. But then you’d reached out and taken it.
The letter had no sender’s name, but it didn’t need one.
It was the first correspondence with King Gojo Satoru since he’d taken up the throne. Ever.
“To my dearest future Queen,
Though I suppose it shall be a falsehood to claim you as mine—that is not a privilege this lowly hybrid holds just yet. So I suppose you must forgive me; to the dearest future Queen.
I am aware of your kingdom’s valiant efforts against my own, and I commend you for maintaining such a fervent battle. I admit, no kingdom prior has managed to prolong one of my battles thus far—you’ve made me exercise battalions I never believed I would get the chance to, in this lifetime, and it has been quite thoroughly exciting to face my first challenge. You hold your fights well, my future Queen.
My apologies, it has happened again.
But you must be aware of what is undeniable - your kingdom is losing. Though not instantly, it is inevitable that, ultimately, your kingdom shall crumble before mine. Your humans are injured, and you falter in resources.
I know you know.
However, fret not. For it seems that across the duration of our snipes, I have grown to hold a strange affection for your kingdom, and most of all—you.
To the future Queen: if you wish for the war to come to a close, in a way that benefits both parties equally, I am extending this one olive branch.
Marry me.
Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.
You may hold the celebrations in any manner or place you wish, you may annul the marriage if you do so please. This lowly hybrid proposes that you may even take other lovers, shall it be your desire to do so; my only condition is that Your Majesty must reside in the North Palace alongside yours truly for one moon.
Yes, one moon with you is all I ask. After which you are free to return, to register the annulment, to even reside in the North Palace as long as you please.
Though, this lonely King shall do his best not to heighten his hopes.
On the moon after our union, my troops will pull back from the borders - we shall be at war no longer.
On the third moon after which this letter has been received, Commander Higuruma will be awaiting in front of the thorn barrier for your response. Do not attempt to herald an attack, for there is a reason that hawks are birds of prey.
I await your response impatiently, the my future Queen.
Yours truly,
Gojo Satoru.”
The letter had dropped from your hands once you finished reading it.
One moon.
One night.
One night with the cruel King Gojo Satoru.
And of course, there was no promise that you’d ever be coming back—for, who could trust a King like so?
There was nothing more to be said about Gojo Satoru.
Everyone had a story about him.
Everyone.
Perhaps from the odd disappearance of a family member that strayed too close to the barrier, or a childhood bedtime story that always featured him as the fearsome villain. Lately, you have been the hero, of course.
Though one knew not of what the hybrid looked like, nor his age, nor the full extent of his powers, nor any insight into his motivations - everyone knew one thing for certain: and that was to stay away.
Gojo was deemed to be a brutal king—the cruelest of them all. The most wicked. The one that appeared on battlefields as fleetingly as a snowflake upon your palm, and disappeared just as quick - so quick that one won’t even be able make out his features, his form - leaving behind a trail of carnage that piled up high enough to form their own kingdoms. In just a single second.
And the more he aged, the more his powers grew.
He was the reaper. And you were being asked to walk right into his claws.
What followed had been a fervent series of letters - penned by only the best of the best advisors, authors, and peace negotiators in your kingdom - that were rejected one by one. Your kingdom’s messengers disappeared into the barriers upon their surrender-white horses, holding bagloads of letters and pleas from your council, and arrived with the very same an hour later—somewhat disoriented.
According to them, they’d followed the route to the other kingdom to a T - and yet, somehow found themselves exiting back out through your side of the wall once more.
Gojo’s magic, you knew. Though unaware of its uses and intricacies, you understood that this was what you’re getting for not following his instructions—waiting for Higuruma.
And you also understood that if his prowess was this expansive, then what more could they possibly do to your kingdom…
And so - after three moons - you’d accompanied Commander Yaga and the troops to the area where they’d first encountered Higuruma. Sure as ice, the hook-nosed man was standing there proudly.
He bowed luxuriously at you, before clipping the response letter into his clutches—then he stretched the massive wingspan upon his back and took flight. Disappearing towards his own kingdom in but a few blinks.
And you could only watch as your response was carried away.
“To Gojo Satoru,
I accept your proposal. It is time we finish this war.
Regards,
The future Queen.”
The date was set. You were to be married.
And so you’ve found yourself being fussed over by the entire palace - and even the tailors, and cake-makers, and florists from outside. The people. The outraged and the delighted alike.
Everyone and anyone bursting the seams of the palace in an attempt to catch a glimpse of you on your wedding day. What an honorable date it was, wasn’t it?
On the day that should have been your coronation as Queen, you’re being fitted into your wedding outfit.
It was initially supposed to be your first gown as ruler.
A lavish few meters of white silk pampered, teased, and pressed into frills. Millions upon millions of miniature diamonds bedazzle the fabric in increasing saturation towards the bottom, making it look as though you were the beauty of nature itself; the soft sunlight across freshly-ladden snow, the hymn of tree branches against the winter wind, an ice shard itself. Sharp when you’re not looking.
The train of your wedding outfit had taken several attendants to fix onto your jewel-encrusted tiara, and it billowed out the length of several ballrooms.
It was equally as decorated with tiny fixtures of diamonds, heavy yet grounding - you’d specifically asked the tailor to add these on. If you’re going to bear yourself before the most wicked King, then you might as well make an impression.
You touch the silk gloves that covered you from fingertips to elbows - also something you’d requested. Just one night. You’d show that your kingdom wasn’t just the feeble humans he must think he was toying with- and afterwards all diamonds were ordered to be distributed amongst the people.
This was your choice to marry your opposing monarch. Everything was yours.
Though the bouquet of white roses must have been a choice of the palace. Must have…
Your mask of quiet acceptance fixed. Your appearance radiant. You’re staring at the person in the mirror that seemed so distant from yourself—was this the new Queen of the Hybrids?
Attendants and tailors fluttered around you like butterflies, harried that they weren’t able to suckle the honey out of you fast enough. They’re smoothing your fabrics down and fussing with your train, they’re making last-minute adjustments to the size and fitting-
“Careful.” Your mother warns from a distance, and her tone is enough to make the entire room jolt. She stares down one of the tailor’s apprentices, “Heaven forbid you prick her- goodness knows what he will have to say.”
“Pricked or unpricked, he shall have to deem fit what he sees.” You’re responding, head held high. “For I was not the one that insisted upon a marriage.”
“But you simply must understand that—”
Mercifully, your mother’s getting cut off by the shrieking of trumpets outside.
There were many a royal and noble guests invited to your wedding, and each entrance had been marked by the stirring of your orchestra and the announcement by the chief butler. But this…this was a sheer symphony of sound, shivers, and suspense that made you realize that this couldn’t have been anyone but—him.
There was a special melody for your husband-to-be, and your heart thundered along to its march as everyone inside the dressing room rushes to the window overlooking the sprawling courtyard. It was a massive stone masterpiece - the brilliance of human craft - a swooping row of colonnades with a glittering fountain in the middle. Areas sectioned off for the spectators, and marbled pathways from which guests came and went.
Your hands grip the smooth windowsill as you witness a coach of pure white approaching.
It was as unassuming as that of any other guest, only standing out for its sheer elegance.
Large spiralled wheels pulling along a well-built carriage, with a gleaming white hood and its curtains drawn. Larger than most. It seems that the Kingdom of Hybrids had a tendency to use horse hybrids as both coachmen and those tugging on the reigns, they threw their long heads proudly as they pulled on the royal carriage.
“Can you see him—can you see him?!” The attendants whisper to one another.
“I can’t see him yet- say, is it really true that he has the horns of the devil and wings like a bat?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s a snow leopard hybrid. I’ve heard he turns into a leopard at whim.”
“My acquaintance’s acquaintance says he’s cursed with six eyes- yes, six.”
“I’ve heard he’s grotesque-”
They falter, and flicker their gaze towards you. You don’t react.
Your eyes follow its parade between crowds that hush as it passes. It leaves a cold breeze behind it that makes even the heartiest of those celebrating tremble, it leaves the flowing water of your royal fountain freezing. Ice.
You’re leaning even closer to the edge of the balcony, hoping to see but a-flutter of those curtains that might reveal something about the man who was surely inside-
“Ouch-” Startling at the sudden prick of something against your shoulder, you’re turning around to find that the young apprentice had leaned into you- holding her needle from before. The very tip of it had accidentally touched your skin, in her frenzy to see the King himself—and as her face drops in apology, you’re opening your mouth to tell her that it was perfectly alright when-
BANG—!
When a sharp gale causes the windows to slam shut.
Everyone in the dressing room jumps back a foot away from the offending part of the chamber, looking at each other as if to confirm whether they didn’t feel a single breeze prior. You certainly hadn’t, either.
That had just come out of nowhere…
Rattled, no one makes to open the window once more.
The trumpets blare yet again - this time with a slightly less rich tune signalling another guest from a far-off land - and some of the younger attendants merely stare at the closed window longingly—wishing to just see. But one look from the main attendant has them jumping back into action, pins and all.
They had a wedding to prepare you for.
And the groom was already here.
.
.
.
Music was pouring out of the gilded venue.
In a letter later sent by Commander Yaga - and allowed through the barrier by Gojo’s powers - you’d specified that you’d like the wedding to be held in this magnificent limestone building; older than the rest of the palace it was attached to, and just as revered. Gojo’s reply had been simple: I am already aware of this arrangement, my future Queen.
And you didn’t want to think of how he knew.
Low chandeliers. Sprawling rose pathways. Attendants zipped back and forth between extending your train and sneaking looks inside the royal cathedral.
“Do you see him- move-”
“Oh, heavens—is that him?” Your skin prickles in goosebumps.
“I thought he had…”
“I would never have expected him to be so…”
Traitorous to that expressionless facade you had on, your heart races as yet another attendant hastens to join the troupe peering inside the pews- and gasps. For, what could that mean? What could such a reaction be indicative of?
What did Gojo Satoru look like?
It’s not that you held physical looks upon a pedestal - you knew such frivolities were ephemeral, and you’d met far too many handsome nobles whose good looks did little to compensate for their manners or lack thereof. But it’s just…
You had an image of Gojo Satoru in your head.
Though legends often described him as a half-man, half-leopard with six eyes and bat-like wings that carried him over vast battle fields—you envisioned him as something slightly different. Perhaps a half-man, half-beast just as they said, with paws far larger than a normal snow leopard, and a fur-muzzled face that looked ready to eat you.
Something as mythical as they made him sound.
You’re shivering, and one of the attendants asks you whether you’re cold.
You’re shaking your head evenly, and they look up at each other and nod. You touch your gloves for comfort.
They throw the gauzy veil over your face and fully open the double doors to the cathedral. The music had uplifted: it was time for you to walk down the aisle.
Your steps were just as poised and perfect as your years of etiquette lessons had taught you - and to the naked eye, you might even look confident. There goes the Queen, our savior, our monarch, marrying off the monster from the Kingdom of Hybrids to protect her people.
But out of their view, you knew your hands shook where you clutched that white rose bouquet.
It really was cold inside the venue.
It seems like eons before you’re reaching the end of the altar, and before your royal officiant begins his speech. Due to your veil, your vision of Gojo was obscured - other than the pointed tips of polished white shoes. You could sense that he was tall—but just how tall (taller than a human could be?) was still a mystery to you.
As the officiant reaches the end of his speech, two pale hands come into your line of vision. Long with slender fingers, slightly blushed at the tips of his knuckles - Gojo’s hands, you realize with a jolt - were reaching out for something you had.
Your own hands, it catches up to you.
And, tentatively, you’re putting your left hand in his.
It flinches- for just a split-second because of its frigidness. Before you’re keenly aware of the restlessness of your ministers in the front row, and you’re placing it back into his grasp.
“Your Majesty, if you could now place the ring on Her Highness’s finger and repeat after me—” And there was no ring in Gojo Satoru’s hands- there was no ring. But the next time you’re blinking - as if it had just manifested out of thin air - he’s suddenly holding the most beautiful band of silver in his hands.
A delicate wreath of precious metal, fashioned into two ferns that enveloped your ring finger perfectly, settled with a teardrop alexandrite in the middle and two smaller white diamonds on either side. Gojo’s fingers were cold as they held yours and pushed the ring on. The officiant continues, “-with this ring as a symbol of love, of commitment, of unity, and of peace—”
And a soft, smooth tone follows- his.
Not quite the low, animalistic growl that you might have expected, nor the hissing sibilance of something shadowy - but something different entirely.
“With this ring as a symbol of my eternal love, of my commitment, of our unity, and of peace—”
It was the rich, noble tone of a royal. Gojo enunciated his words perfectly - and his deep voice echoed across every corner of the vast cathedral. Such a pretty voice and so- so human that it makes the hairs on your body raise.
The officiant continues with a light cough - if he were equally as surprised at the King’s voice, then he makes no indication. “I wed thee—”
“I wed thee—” And then Gojo says your name and it makes your heart almost stop. The way it rolled off of his tongue…it sounded like a prayer.
“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime.”
“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime, and in each one after.”
There’s a slight shifting on the numerous wooden pews as Gojo takes his freedom with the vows. And then a slim silver band is handed to you - it feels cold in your palm, impersonal, though not nearly as cold as your future husband’s fingers - and your hands tremble as you take them in yours. The officiant turns towards you and utters those same vows-
“With this ring as a symbol of love, of commitment, of unity, and of peace…” You’re repeating, sliding the ring onto his lengthy ring finger. Almost inhuman in nature. “—I wed thee, Your Royal Majesty, King Gojo Satoru-”
Your voice falters.
His hands grow a little tighter on yours.
“-and pledge my love to you in this lifetime…” And you’re unsure what makes you take it- you’re so unsure. But you can’t help but echo just what the snow leopard hybrid had stated earlier, “-and in each one after.”
A soft rush of exhales as both rings now glint upon your matching fingers.
United as one.
The officiant’s booming voice announces, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you…husband and wife.” In the distance a bell tolls, and it swells above the creaking of mahogany as the spectators lean in their chairs. “You may now kiss the bride.”
Gojo’s hands - now clad with a single wedding ring - lift up the safety of your veil. And you’re blinking at the sudden rush of light now—you’re blinking up at him.
And oh.
Your breath catches in your chest, heart a-stuttering. Pert lips. Dimpled cheeks. Young- he couldn’t have been more than a few years older than you. Eyes such a pale blue that they looked almost white. For the crisp white strands of his hair catch the sunlight filtering through the windows, setting his features a-glow and revealing to you the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Human.
He looked utterly human.
Gojo Satoru lowers his head towards yours but hesitates, his gaze searching for an answer in yours. And perhaps it was the shock of seeing the King of Hybrids for the first time - after so long looking out of your window for a glimpse of him - or perhaps it was the dizzying rush of warmth that’d suddenly run through your body but—but you’re leaning in first.
You’re the one kissing him, sealing your fate with the cruelest king of them all.
His lips were smooth and cool to the touch, tasting faintly sweet.
You feel Gojo smile into the union, before he’s pulling back and re-slotting his mouth more eagerly against your own.
Cheers erupt in the cathedral. And surely your advisors were shaking hands with one another, surely your mother was wiping off tears.
One of your hands rests against the silken material of Gojo’s suit, pressed up against his chest where his heart battered. Only slightly faster than your own racing one - even though it wasn’t an embrace too scandalous nor prolonged, a thrill rushed through your body that you couldn’t explain.
Gojo cups your left cheek softly, though there was a lack of pressure that let you know that you were free to pull back any time. And you had to pull back - you needed to.
If not for the fact that this was a man you’ve never met before, then for the fact that The Ton would have far too much to say after the wedding - the King’s condition of a single night only added to the scandal.
But you just….you just didn’t want to. Some strange part of you deep, deep down only wanted to sigh through your nose as you leaned even deeper into him.
Something deep, deep, deep—
Before a hoot of celebration from somewhere in your audience jolts you back into your senses.
And you’re pulling away from him as if it burned.
Burned.
Burned—your body felt as though you were burning up. Feverish.
It feels as though your veins were suddenly thrumming with an energy that wasn’t entirely yours, and the faster every single particle of you was vibrating - the hotter your body was feeling.
Warm tears welling up in your eyes. Mind never having felt clearer.
You’re panting once and it’s the most scorching breeze you’ve ever felt—“Fuck.” A ripple runs through your body as you realize you’ve just sworn without meaning to- and it seems to extend past you and into the body of Gojo himself.
Gojo.
Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.
Whose nostrils flare and his eyes grow sharper. Behind him, his fluffy tail of white with rosettes swings from side-to-side—tail? You hadn’t seen that before…And you’re stumbling closer as if to get a closer look, to which Gojo Satoru easily catches you in his arms.
His strong hand clasps at your waist, and you’re finding your body leaned shamefully into his chest.
Looking up into his pale, pale blue eyes - like the skies of an ever-present winter - you gulp. And then you tilt your neck slightly to the side, as though bearing it for him.
Gojo’s lips part, and you see sharp canines peaking between his pink lips.
The cathedral has gone quiet by now, any sense of humor and victory bled dry - as dry as he could bleed you, if ever his canines chose to make a target of your pretty neck. As though reading their urgent thoughts, the Hybrid King leans in—close enough that his cold pants cascade down your throat and your arched spine.
You gulp as his dampened teeth approach until they’re mere millimeters away.
In what feels like another far-off land, you’re hearing the cluttering of iron and armored knights approaching. The footsteps of your kingdom’s best troop, led by Commander Yaga, and their shouts for Gojo Satoru to cease as he himself plunges into this inexplicable daze. Flesh on flesh.
But you’re only closing your eyes in anticipation of his bite-
His bite that falters as Gojo flicks his snow leopard-like ears over to the storming knights- and he cracks a slight smile.
One arm on your waist, and the other gently grasping your nearly ring-clad hand, he swings the two of you around as though waltzing to a music you couldn’t hear. The orchestra had long stopped.
And then you’re both disappearing into thin air.
Leaving behind only the rose bouquet.
.
.
.
By the time you’re opening your eyes, you weren’t at the royal cathedral any longer, and it feels as though you never were.
And one look around the room you were in makes you think that you never will be again. Ever again.
The chamber opened up like the mouth of a beast, of which you were inside with no way out. Teeth-like artifacts and ridges of bookshelves swathed the circular room luxuriously; titles of both human and hybrid languages of which you knew only a few sparse words. This was clearly the room of someone well-read, and your eyes glazed over at the large mahogany desk scattered with pictures, diagrams, and maps.
Portraits. Balconies with more bookshelves. Stairs and spirals. And a few remnants of armor emblazoned with your kingdom’s insignia, the debris of a meal well-had. Like a massive uvula a chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and the longer you stared at it- the more it dawned upon you that it seemed to be made of some ever-lasting ice.
Its windows provided little light and even less location. Fogged with frosty clouds, they were merely windows into a beast that had no soul—a beast that only hungered with no thoughts. A chill runs down your spine.
In just a second, you knew where you were: you were in the North Palace. Presumably in one of King Gojo’s studies.
You’re feeling his cold presence next to you- and you’re pressing yourself against the stone wall instantly. And he follows. Putting a hand down your right glove and pulling out the dagger you’d hidden beneath—always had. Always will.
You raise the tip of its silver blade to kiss Gojo Satoru’s neck.
It trembles just a little as he swallows.
Gojo has you pushed against the wall - chest to chest, pant mingling with pant - and one of his arms rested on the space above your head. He looks down at you with steely blue eyes.
His snow leopard tail quivers for a little bit- before coming to wrap around your leg.
He almost tugs you to him and you’re gasping, pricking the dagger against his neck until a bead of crimson follows. “A step closer and I shall end this war right now-” You’re hissing.
And to your surprise, Gojo merely smiles. “You may believe that.” He lazily flickers his eyes down to the weapon you had clutched, and a slow frost starts overtaking everything from its handle to the blade. “But I am aware you won’t.”
“You know not a thing about me-”
“So you may think.” He reaches up and you almost flinch- in fact, every fibre of your rational being believes that you should flinch. But something else…something else entirely deeper and ancient keeps you in place, staring into Gojo’s eyes as he runs his fingers down your cheek. Letting the cold metal of his wedding ring kiss your skin, and you’re leaning into the touch - you wanted it so bad. But you didn’t know why. “But I believe I know you more than you might think, my Queen. In this life and others.”
You struggle to keep your breath even- why did you wish to lean into him once more? “You’re nonsensical. You’re crazy.”
“Perhaps so.” Gojo hums, his canines glinted in the dim lighting of the chandelier. “But this lowly hybrid only grows crazy for you.”
Your breath stutters. You’re breathing in his ice-cold scent.
Gojo raises his nose in the air as if smelling something - you do, too, but you’re unable to sense anything but the coldness of winter and pine. But whatever he smells in the air makes him smile something simpering, “You are free.”
You balk, “What?”
“You are free to roam wherever you wish.” He says, finally creating some distance between you two. “You are free to…” Something catches his attention- he reaches out. And for a second there, you think he’s about to steal your dagger—but what Gojo clasps onto is your glove. The King presses that precious fabric against his face and inhales your essence, “-do whatever you wish.”
Leaving you stunned, the hybrid turns his back to you and walks towards the arched door. Glove crushed between his fingers.
He makes it until the frame of the door - of which he fills out most of its vast shape - before looking over his shoulder at you. “Everything except leave, of course. For the night.”
As he walks away, he calls.
“My attendants shall see to it that you’re led to your room and given a tour around the palace, and they shall provide you robes to which you may change into. The bath is already drawn, and my kitchens have prepared refreshments.”
You feel yourself sliding down the stone wall.
“Dinner shall be served once night falls- do not be afraid to let the royal chefs know what nourishments please you.”
Ultimately ending up on the floor. Hand shaking on your dagger.
“Once morning comes, you may do anything you please.”
You’re wondering what it was you felt earlier as you bared your neck to him.
“You may even leave.”
It’s then that a troupe of attendants enter after Gojo’s exit, hybrids of all shapes and sizes and colors—human. For the most part. They were similar to Gojo in the sense that they possessed more human features than the stories of your kingdom foretold, with ears and tails pertaining to their hybrid type, and demeanours which gave away their status as hybrids even if they wore cloaks.
One such hybrid - a red panda with a scar across her beautiful face - introduces herself as Utahime, the head attendant. She looks down curiously at you.
Your panting breaths. Your widened gaze.
“Forgive my manners, Your Majesty, but I haven’t seen a human before.” She tilts her head down at you, red ears twitching. “Worry not…it’s a little startling the first time for us, too.”
“The first time?” You’re being helped to stand by her.
“The first time.” Utahime nods, “Are you perhaps a little disoriented? We may pay a visit to my mate, Shoko, in the healing ward - she’s a caracal if that interests you - if you wish?”
“A caracal—no, hold a moment-” So much was swirling in your head—the first time, the mate, the existence of a healing ward just as your palace did. What on Earth was…“What do you mean by the first time? A mate?”
Utahime looks confused, mouth dropping slightly. “Why, because His Majesty has-”
“Utahime.” A stern, feminine voice sounds from the doorway.
You’re looking over the red panda hybrid’s shoulder to see a woman with short, straight hair standing at the stone door. Her ears so large and triangular - twitching back and forth with its tufted tips—“Allow me to look over Her Majesty.”
“O-of course.” Utahime moves to the side.
The hybrid - Shoko, you assume - looks over you for any signs of injuries or scratches during the journey here, including testing you for symptoms of magical nausea.
And it seems a somewhat regular check-up, one that was reminiscent of the ones conducted in your own kingdom, until Shoko takes a cotton swab out of her medical bag and slides it down the tender spot of your throat.
All down that column. Lymph nodes.
As if your skin was more sensitive than ever, you’re shivering.
She inspects that cotton swab and lets it waft in the air for a seconds - seemingly all ordinary, it’s not long before Shoko’s wrapping it up and placing it all back in her bag.
And you’re not able to ask what that particular process was about before Utahime’s bounding up to you again. The attendants had waited for your brief check-up to conclude.
“Are you prepared for your tour, Your Majesty? Or would you prefer we bathe you first?” She asks.
“I believe I would like to freshen up first.” You answer, before looking at the woman that had an open expression on her face. Little nubs of her canines peaked out through her smile. She wasn’t nearly as terrifying as all the stories had led you to believe, “For what reason do you do that?”
“Pardon?” She cocks her head.
“For what reason do you call me that—‘Your Majesty’?” Being led by her out of the study, you’re being shown around the various hallways and artifacts that were just as grand. “My coronation is yet to be held, though it was supposed to be today…”
“Oh…” Utahime looks at you in slight confusion, “But you are our Queen.”
Your brows furrow, “I am yet to be the Queen of my kingdom yet-”
“You are the Queen of the Hybrids, Your Royal Majesty.”
.
.
.
You’d been slightly too harrowed to wonder just what the condition of ‘one night’ would entail. If you were to go that far…perhaps you’d expected for the consummation of your marriage.
Or whatever it was that hybrids had equivalent.
You’d been ready for it, however, both with your knife and your will.
If you had to fuck Gojo Satoru, then so be it—at least, that had been what you’d thought. Before. Before you’d seen him on the altar, and now, there was a part of you that would gladly exchange the rites of flesh.
And that scared you more than any legend.
Utahime was a wonderful guide around the palace, she explored every grand nook and cranny with you. The ballrooms. The libraries. The frozen fountains- yes, frozen. She took you from staircase down hallway down secret alleyways between bookshelves, leading you into grand halls with portraits of the Gojo family.
You stared quite longingly at those: white-haired, noble-faced hybrids that resembled Gojo in their species and strength. He looked more like his beautiful mother, you learned.
And something clenched in you as you remembered just why they weren’t here.
Looking at the cherub face of the blue-eyed heir in the portrait, you couldn’t help but ask Utahime- “What are the consummation traditions in your kingdom?”
She’d looked towards you slightly startled, “The mating traditions, Your Majesty? Why…the same as your human mating traditions, I suppose.”
You gulped, “And the King-”
“His Majesty would never force you into something that you do not wish to happen.” Utahime reaches out and holds your hand, you’re learning that it’s just as cold as her monarch’s. “Fear not for your safety in this kingdom, my Queen. Harm shall never fall upon you in the Kingdom of Hybrids.”
You trusted her- you didn’t know why, but you trusted her.
It had been past afternoon when you’d arrived at the North Palace, and well into the evening once you’d finished your tour. Thoroughly spent, your jaw had dropped once Utahime told you that it was just a few wings of the palace that’d been explored-
“Tomorrow, we may explore the towns. The people shall be overjoyed to meet their new Queen-” And then she’d stopped in the middle of her sentence, throwing a nervous look your way. “That is…if you so wish to stay past the conditions, Your Majesty.”
And you did not know how to answer her.
Later, after some reading in their vast libraries - far greater than even your own palace’s - you’d been led into a sprawling dining hall for dinner.
It was a chamber that reminded you of Gojo’s study, though vertically longer to accommodate for the snaking table. Polished wood. Sparkling chandeliers. Paintings plastered across its oblong walls. Spread from nearly end-to-end of the royal room, you counted at least a hundred or so chairs on either side as you were bowed inside the great dining hall. Knights stood on guard with their weapons, though they didn’t seem to pose a threat.
The table was laden heavy with food, fantastical ice sculptures, and a fireplace: you wondered how those ice sculptures didn’t melt. Was this a work of Gojo’s powers, as well? Puddings and pastries. Truffles and rice. Steaks and vegetables. Sweet and sour.
Piled higher than your head.
Chocolates melted and crafted into all sorts of artworks that you didn’t even know was possible to do with such an ingredient. In the middle of the table sat a six-tiered wedding cake, proudly crowned with miniature fondant figures of Gojo Satoru and…you.
A cake like this would have taken well over two days - since your response - to create. And that’s not to mention the fact that he already knew what you looked like…
Just how long had he been planning this?
There was everything your heart could desire- and you meant that. You hadn’t taken Gojo up on his offer to make the kitchens privy to your preferences, and yet you were pleasantly surprised to find that almost all of the foods were…your favorites.
All your favorites.
How did they…
You’re being led to the chair positioned at the very end of the table - the head chair often reserved for the leading ruler. The King, in this case.
Only…Utahime pulls out the silver-tipped chair at the very end and gestures for you to sit there.
You?
You’re stopping short, “King Gojo—”
“Shall be sitting beside you, Your Majesty, worry not.” And you’re unsure whether you should be embarrassed that she’d assumed you missed him - rather than the fact that you were wondering when he’d make an appearance, claim that chair the way he claimed you.
And as if to emphasize her point, she’s tapping at the chair right beside yours.
Not the one at the head of the table.
The one beside it.
Lower-tiered.
“His Majesty’s request.”
You’d never heard of a King who’d been happy to sit at a position lower than his Queen- let alone request for such a seating arrangement.
Slightly trembling, you’re taking your seat nonetheless.
And just as soon as you’re settling in- the doors bang! wide open.
In hurries a ferrety man in spectacles, holding an agenda to his chest and bowing so low that his nose touches the floor. “Y-Your Majesty!”
“At ease.” You’re responding, somewhat wary.
“Ijichi…” Utahime grumbles, “What’s the meaning of this? You’re interrupting the royal couple’s dinner together.”
“I-I fear that’s exactly the problem, Your Majesty.” The man - Ijichi, it seems - turns to you with an expression that couldn’t have looked more apologetic if he tried. “I have been sent by His Majesty to inform you that he extends his deepest apologies, for he shan’t be able to attend the royal dinner tonight.”
You’re gripping the silver butter knife at your side, “Pardon?”
And he flinches as though he’s just been struck—“Forgive me! It seems that some ah- unavoidable circumstances have risen that make it somewhat…difficult for His Majesty to join Her Majesty tonight- th-though that’s not certainly not for a lack of want! And His Majesty is supremely upset over the fact, it’s simply…”
Ijichi looks to Utahime for help. In the far corner of the room, the knights shuffle on their feet at the tension.
With a cautious expression, the woman steps closer - and as soon as she’s within his proximity, Ijichi leans down to whisper something in her ear—and her expression melts into one of understanding. Disappointed, but understanding.
She turns to you with an equally apologetic expression, “My apologies, Your Majesty…”
Your heart jumps to your throat.
“The King is unable to attend tonight’s dinner.”
You don’t know why you’re disappointed.
.
.
.
You admit that the dinner passed by in a blur - delicious, and yet still a blur.
Perhaps if you don’t miss anything of this excursion, then you’ll at least think back on those delicacies fondly.
Although, you admit that Utahime - and even the ever-anxious Ijichi - had certainly grown on you. They kept you company throughout the rest of the dinner, and once you were finished the red panda hybrid escorted you to your royal quarters.
It was a vast chamber located not too far from Gojo’s study.
Even though most of the palace found itself composed of cold, hard stone—this room was special. It had the most delicate layers of paint spread across it, something you hadn’t seen before even during your tour - baby blue in color, with faint patterns of snowflakes etched into every corner. Gilded decorations on every piece of furniture. A fireplace against one wall. More books than you could ever read in your entire life - let alone single moon here.
There was a balcony overlooking a befogged land that you could not discern, and a drop from it would have been fatal.
What drew you in the most, however, was the painting.
Most chambers in the North Palace were decked with precious paintings - hand-crafted oils of color in silver frames, those that looked more valuable than a room full of treasure and perhaps just as ancient - for it seemed that King Gojo was a lover of the arts. Interestingly enough.
You wouldn’t have expected that of him.
But this one…this painting was the largest of them all.
It took up the space of one entire wall, which - according to your mental calculations - would have been thirty-two feet tall and eighty-eight feet wide. One side of your bedroom that was donning robes of oil paint—featuring the most picturesque vision of…your kingdom.
Your palace. Your people. Your dream as a monarch: seeing the people of your kingdom as happy as they should be.
The humans in this painting were hand-in-hand in the town square, dancing around a roaring bonfire. Around them were heaving tables laden with food, and behind- oh. Your eyes widened as you take in the painting even further - it wasn’t just the humans that were dancing with one another. There were hybrids, too.
Your bed was a sprawling four-poster, and you huddled in amongst the silk-covered pillows.
This was your one night with King Gojo Satoru.
The first and the last.
Your one and only.
But there must have been a reason for this marriage, for his condition- there must have been. A full moon circled high in the sky, and peace couldn’t have been so easy.
You kept your dagger underneath your pillow that night.
And so you slept—not as fitfully as one might have expected.
When you wake up- it’s still nighttime.
You’re sitting up on the bed and attempting to blink your vision back. It must have been an hour, perhaps two, since you’d gone to sleep- and you hate to admit it, but that must have been the best hours of sleep you’d gotten in years.
You might not even have woken up at all had it not been for the thunderous sound of footsteps outside.
Someone was running- no. Multiple people were running.
Heart battering against your chest, you’re grabbing the dagger out from underneath your pillow and getting onto your feet. You were wearing a thin layer of silk Utahime had bestowed upon you as a nightgown, but there was no time to consider propriety now - something was happening inside the North Palace.
Quickly unlocking the latch upon those double doors, it’s dark enough in the corridors that you’re slipping past the personal guards stationed outside your chamber. And crowded enough that you could slot into the chaos unnoticed.
Attendants. Advisors. Knights.
Hybrids of all different types and varying degrees of urgency - from urgent to being nearly in tears - were trampling like a herd in the same direction down the corridor.
You’re keeping your head down low as you fit into a sparse gap of space and let yourself be led to wherever it was they needed to be. Forwards. Down a hallway. Forwards. Forwards.
Ultimately, you’re not travelling too far before heading down a high-ceiling hallway—the pathway leading up to a private chamber. And by the sheer luxury of this wing - and the constantly incremental paintings of the Gojo family - you’re guessing that this must be where the Hybrid King slept.
Something stirs at the pit of your stomach- did something happen to…?
No, you couldn’t let yourself think that.
Shaking your head free from such thoughts, you’re managing to squeeze past attendants and staff that stuffed every nook and alcove here like sardines. Everyone was fervid to get inside, and even more desperate to get out before too long—
Then…the slightest crack in the door.
Breath catching in your chest, you shoot your arm out to catch it before it closes. Warm light filters from inside, and even warmer air follows it - fighting against whatever hybrid attendant was attempting to close it, you’re managing to wrench it open far enough to push yourself within.
Just as you’re thrust inside, you turn around and catch Utahime’s gaze- also pressed against one wall of the corridor.
Her eyes widen as she realizes just who it is—and her mouth shouts out a silent ‘no-’
Those double doors slam! shut.
It’s a royal bedroom just as large as yours.
And you could go on describing all the polished pieces of furniture, and the draped blue curtains, and the chandeliers, and the books. One of the walls in his bedroom was covered in a painting, just as the wall in your room had been - though you’re not too focused on it right now. A carpet spread from underneath the king-sized bed and nearly to every corner of the room—it was a stone-cold white, stitched intricately in the Gojo family emblem. But that was exactly what caught your eye.
Not the carpet, no- the bed.
Not exactly the bed itself, but rather the heavy metal chains on either side of it. Like dungeon chains.
There were six rings - thick and composed of rusting iron, one being half the length of your body - fastened to both walls sandwiching the bed. Falling from them were chain-links, each one the size of your head and twice as hefty—snaking like boa constrictors along the chamber floor, the foot of the bed, on top of the mattress.
Each one was shackled to the hands and feet of Gojo Satoru.
Panting. Flushed.
Feverish.
Surrounded by some guards, Shoko, and the rest of her healers who kept pressing cold cloths to his forehead, wiping him down furiously.
Bucking into the air with a husky groan- it makes the dungeon chains rattle as they’re tugged on. Hard enough to make the metal creeeeeak—!
You don’t know what more to gape at - the fact that he was strong enough to fight against six of those massive chains and nearly win, or the fact that Gojo was underneath a thin cover and…naked.
Something stirs between your legs.
And instantly-
Instantly, Gojo stills.
The healers take a startled step back, cold cloths suspended in their hands as they assess their silent King.
But Gojo doesn’t mind them.
He’s sitting up properly on the mattress, eyes widened and locked on- oh.
Locked on you.
It makes you jolt.
For there was a harrowed look in his gaze - as though he’d just stumbled across a carnage site, might perhaps be tempted into creating one. And Gojo’s pupils were the size of pinpricks, the sea of blue around them somewhat glowing—were you going mad? Were they really glowing?
His beautiful face was expressionless and primal.
His head raises into the air and sniffs it-
And suddenly those pearly white teeth display in an animalistic growl.
One by one, the healers follow their monarch’s line of sight - and their lips part as they take you in. His human bride.
Shoko’s the first to take a step forwards, “Your Majest-”
“Out.”
A strange thrill runs through your body.
It’s not that Gojo’s voice was particularly loud, nor was it particularly threatening—but it makes every single hybrid inside the room bow.
Falling to their knees.
They’re nodding once.
And in the blink of an eye, the healers - and most of the guards - are jerking onto their feet and running out - barely even throwing you a glance. Those double doors crack open once more, and you’re realizing that the commotion outside had calmed—you get the strange feeling that if you were to turn around, you would see that every other hybrid there was kneeling, as well.
You don’t know how you’re so sure - but you know he isn’t speaking to you.
In mere moments, it’s only Shoko and Higuruma that remain at Gojo’s bedside. They look at you in concern, and then each other- opening their mouths to say something when—
“Out.”
Gojo’s sole command is followed by gales of wind that clatter the windows open and send the two hybrids toppling. They’re collapsing to the ground from the sheer force - ultimately being pushed up until the tips of your feet.
Their King needn’t say a word more for them to stumble onto their feet and make a break for it.
The doors close thunderously, though not nearly as loud as your racing heart.
The wind dies down as they’re leaving you alone with Gojo, and you’re wondering whether he even realized. Not a single waft of the gales had touched you somehow.
You swallow.
It’s just you and him now.
Him and you.
And you’re not understanding where it came from, but you’re overwhelmed by the sudden feeling to walk over to him-
As soon as the thought manifests in your chest, you blink—
And Gojo Satoru’s standing right in front of you.
Towering figure. Heated pants.
Your dagger falls to the floor.
He was flushed as though burning from the inside out.
You swear that he’s even larger than you remember him—and you do remember him being large in the first place. But Gojo’s size right now was nearly inhuman - he stood about a foot taller than before; and the tips of his fingers had elongated with predator-like claws, the canines of his teeth had grown even sharper.
His fluffy patterned tail swishes agitatedly from side-to-side.
Nostrils flared as he drinks in your air.
Envelopes in it.
You’re hesitating before raising your eyes up to meet his- and a gasp catches in your chest at his contracted pupils. Like a snow leopard on the hunt.
He stares you down like his most delicious prey.
And it should make you run- it should. But your body takes a stuttered step closer, until you could feel the heat radiating off of his body in feverish waves.
You’re keeping your gaze confined to the area of his face n’ his sculptured chest, words picked carefully. “Satoru…”
“Leave.” But whatever was on the tip of your tongue washes away with his breathless tone- voice sibilant as though a prayer. “I need you to—fuck, I wish for you to-”
“I refuse.” And your response bewilders the both of you, “You’ve exhausted your requests of me. Are we not fulfilling the marriage contract?”
“We will- we have—” His blue eyes clench shut, as though he was holding himself back. Fists clenched firmly at his sides, they shake- “Fuck, this was not the planned course for our first meeting. Know that you are free to leave if you so wish - leave the chamber, leave the palace, leave the kingdom-”
“I will not breach the conditions-”
“I rescind the conditions.”
Shock pumps through your body, “Pardon?”
“I wished to romance you, I wished to write to you- I wished to show you the beauty of my kingdom tonight but…those gloves- you made me…” He shakes his head, “War shall not prevail—we shall commence the peace negotiations without a moon spent together.” He’s slicking back his dampened white hair, “O-on the terms of an unforeseen illness, you may leave-”
“What sickness?” You demand.
“Rut.”
Oh.
Oh.
It was one of the preliminary lessons in your hybrid history classes: the rut. A period of intense pheromonal and sexual desire; during which the hybrid grapples with the physical, emotional, and pheromonal desire to mate. It was always a concept that intrigued you. For a hybrid, these ruts are best exhausted when spent with a partner, though unmated hybrids may choose to weather through the week independently.
The mating period ends once the hybrid bites into the scent gland of their partner.
Between hybrids.
So why were you feeling so feverish, as well?
You’re unsteady on your feet- and Gojo’s hands shoot out, but then surge back to his sides as though he thought better than to touch you when he was in this state. “Please-”
“I would like to spend the moon with you.” You’re blurting out before you can stop yourself, drunk on the heady scent of winter pine in the room—was it growing stronger? You look at him squarely, “As newly-weds do.”
His breath catches, “You are not aware what you ask of me-” Though his tail wraps around your ankle.
“I am.”
“You are not aware what you ask of yourself.”
“I am.” Insisting.
Something deep inside you. Something deep inside you. Something deep inside you.
Fingers reaching up to the tie of your nightgown- before getting stopped instantly by Gojo’s hand. He pulls back with a hiss as though you burned—the pine fragrance grows even stronger inside the chamber.
His voice cracks as he looks at you, “You…” Eyes blowing out ferally, “You humans are not built to handle a hybrid in rut. I shall easily ruin you-”
“Then so be it.” Your cunt twitches.
And Gojo sniffs the air as though he could smell it.
He moans.
And in a split-second you’re being tackled to the ground- pounced upon. As though you really were nothing but a pretty prey beneath his fingertips, Gojo spreads your back flatly against the carpeted ground—too far gone right now to even start thinking of the bed.
Hands caging either side of your head. Hot breaths wafting your features like a furnace.
He slots his toned, naked hips between your bent legs and ruts-
“Fuck.”
Before letting out the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard in your life - his spit-slicked lips fall open with it and stay open as he keeps pushin’ his trembling hips into yours. Glazed eyes clenching shut. Perspired head falling behind him.
Again and again.
You’re feeling his thickened, throbbing erection press against your pussy through your thin nightgown. Openin’ up the crevice of your folds and massaging all along your outer cunt - because of how closely he was collapsed on top of you, you couldn’t make out just what his cock looked like. But you could feel the heat, you could feel the pulsing of his prominent veins that glissaded down the damp patch of your entrance and made you squeal—
“Y-Your Majesty-” You buck.
And he’s fucking pinning you down with his capped knees upon your legs. His bodyweight leaning on you. “Satoru.” He whispers breathlessly, eyes wide and somewhat dazed still.
“Pardon?”
The hybrid reaches his hand across your body, “My mate shall call me Satoru.”
Mate…?
The fingers on his dominant hand snake down your front and grab a fistful of that satin nightgown you were wearing- before his claws extract and he’s teeeeearing straight through it. Ripping it into nothing but shreds that he’s throwing blindly over his shoulder.
Soon enough, you’re left in nothing but the scraps of what had once been a decadent robe. And the coating of lust across your body.
The evidence was undeniable - even in the yolky yellow fireplace lighting up the bedroom, there was a lecherous glisten between your legs. Naked. Pulsing.
A pretty gloss that makes Gojo take just one wide-eyed look- and gulp.
You think you can audibly hear the effect merely seeing your dampened cunt has on him, and it sends a thrill up your spine. The bed chambers only seem to be spiking in temperature.
A bead of glitterin’ slick drops from your tight hole, making you shiver as it falls vertically between your pussylips- only to be stopped by a single chaste kiss of Gojo’s swollen cockhead. He grasps his base using his right hand, motioning that plump, puckered tip to point around the orifice of your cunt.
He’s probing the reddened top of his shaft against your hole and letting it stretch just a lil’ bit- “Fuck.” You think that it should be you spewing out the profanities - but it’s Gojo instead. He growls. His blue peripherals roll to the back of his skull as he feels you clench around nothing. “Fuh-fuuuuck.”
“Shit—”
He dots at the pearly bead of slick.
He swirls it around your entrance.
He uses it to lacquer his already-glistening cock before reeling his hips back and pushing in-
You’re gasping, hands coming up to dig your nails into his broad back. “Sa-Satoru-”
And his jaw practically unhinges at the hot, heavenly feeling. “Oh heavens…” Muttering something primal at the back of his throat—“O-oh heavens.” He’s feeling the first few centimeters of his throbbing cock get suctioned in, before there’s a sudden tightness of resistance that makes jerk his hips back and push once more- “Oh my Queen—”
“Satoru…” Just about the only thing that you can say, like a frenzied mantra. Eyes shuttering, “Shit, I think you must know-”
The knobbly edge of his thumb veers between your pussylips, stretchin’ them apart and taking a good look in-between. He pumps even harder - “My Queen—please take it.”
Mewling.
He’s tugging those dampened lips even further apart, “Please fit in.” Only growing more and more desperate the longer your cunt refuses to gobble him up whole, “Please- please fit in–”
“Satoru- fuck.”
Fingertips trembling where they were glued to the side of your pussy, stretching your entrance. Thwack after thwack. “Please take- me-”
“You must-” And he was now hammerin’ his hips into you in short, rapid semi-thrusts just to see himself swallowed up. So tight that it felt nearly impossible. So tight that a single drop of crimson escapes you, “-know that-”
“My Queen-”
“-this is my first time.”
There’s a ragged exhale that gusts across your features, making your eyes fall shut at just how scalding hot it was feeling - molten inside. Every bit of his skin in contact with yours felt as though he was burning up—“Oh.” That pretty, spit-glossed mouth of his falls - he ruts once more. “Oh.”
Your toes curl at the swabbin’ intrusion - Gojo was just so big that it was hard for you to take him. Bigger than any normal human.
And you’re feeling it even more once he’s pulling out.
With the most lecherous squelch! his erection plops out of your geysering orifice and ends up laid between your shivering thighs.
“I see…” Gojo hoarsely mutters, eyes entrenched in a staring competition with your pussy. “Mine, too.”
“Pardon?” You lean up onto your elbows instantly.
“I believe I said—” He trails off, “Mine, too.”
A thousand and one questions are whirling through your mind - everything from why Gojo hadn’t partaken in a mating period prior to this, to why he’d chosen you—
And then you’re blinking.
And suddenly you’re finding yourself sprawled out across his king-sized bed.
Head laid gently against the numerous luxurious pillows, your legs spread apart as though you’d never moved from the floor. You’re faced with the slight inertia of the entire room shifting so suddenly- and it takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that he’d just teleported the two of you once more.
You’re clamoring up to rest upon your elbows, and staring down at the hybrid that’d slotted between your legs now.
His soft strands tickle your body. Gojo’s already shifted until his face was level with your navel - his hot breath wafting across your skin. It sends goosebumps skittering across your middle n’ all the way down to your cunt—
Something that he’s leaning in and sniffing.
Breathing in.
And then Gojo trundles out a low, animalistic growl.
You feel your hips bucking up in response and you’re not quite sure as to why-
But you don’t have the time to ponder upon it for too long before Gojo dips the tip of his looooong, luscious tongue between your pussy’s slit.
He’s sticking just the very edge of his tastebuds fitting between your folds and slide-slide-sliiiiiding down that dampened crevice. Up and down. Slipping between the two and slurping away the dewy droplets of sap that cling onto your cunt-
Gojo halts as the first taste of your pussy trickles into his mouth.
And then he’s gasping his parched lips open- already sounding as though he’s run a fucking field. “So this-” Letting those deep vibrations of his voice scatter right between where you were most sensitive, “-this is what my mate tastes like.”
There it was again—mate.
Your body thrums, taking a strange pleasure in being titled that by the hybrid.
“Wh-what do you mean by m—oh.” Moan turning into a yelp as his fluffy rosette-decorated tail - one you hadn’t even realized was snaking ever-closer to your body - wraps around your right thigh and wrenches you closer to his hungry body. You stare into his eyes- starving.
Plastering his lips against your other ones as though he was fucking famished- Gojo’s nose digs between the wet slit of your core. Delving in-between. “My mate.” The only thing he can manage to utter. The pointed tip pushes on the nub of your clit as though a button, grindin’ away deftly as he’s making out. “My mate, my mate, my mate—”
“Satoru—” You’re crying out, “I-I’ve never done this before…is it supposed to feel this good?”
“Hmmm…” He’s clearly leering against your sensitive parts- and you can feel it. The hardness of his pearly whites tracin’ all over your entrance - “I haven’t partaken in such activities either, is this kitty supposed to taste this sweet?”
You gasp. “You can’t just utter such obscenities-”
To which he pays no attention before rubbin’ his flushed cheek along the inner parts of your thighs—Gojo leans in takes a gooooood whiff of where your pheromones were most saturated. Eyes falling shut as he indulges himself in it, and once he’s opening them back up you swear those pupils of his have transformed into hearts. “Is this kitty supposed to smell this sweet?”
You’re simply bucking in shock at that.
Elongated claws tapping warningly against where he’s holding the right side of your waist, “Settle, my mate.”
And he can smell it- the way your cunt grows even more aroused, even sweeter, at being given this command. Paired up perfectly with your pet name.
That’s when he decides that he’s had enough of lappin’ away at the numerous layers of slick that polished your cunt - he’s had enough.
He wasn’t some little kitty.
Gojo Satoru was a big cat, and that meant he has a big tongue.
Big enough to drown himself completely n’ utterly silly in the sweetened juices leaking out of you. In a mere few moments, he’s licked you completely dry. And he’s spreadin’ away the inside of your rim, scouring his tongue inside for more, more, more—
Long, thorough slashes inside your cunt.
“Sh-shit—” You’re babbling away stupidly, back arching off of the mattress. Ending up draggin’ your pussy even further against Gojo’s mouth - knocking against his nose and making him take your restless body on happily. “Shit, your tongue-” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “-it’s sho big—”
“All the better to taste you, dear.” It’s a wonder that Gojo could detach himself from your pussy even for those brief seconds to answer.
Thrusting right between those swollen pussylips of yours- right into that quivering hole. He swirls his thickened muscle around a few times, “And y-you’re so…” You could feel the texture of his uniform, ridged tastebuds molding to the sides of your walls. “-fuck, your tastebuds are so pointed.”
“All the better to feel you, dear.” But of course, if you were in any better state of mind then perhaps you would’ve remembered that snow leopards in particular possessed tongues with specialized tastebuds. Longer. Sharper.
Yet right now, the only thing you’re thinking of is just how good it feels to have Gojo Satoru fuck you with said tongue.
He was just so looooooong and thick. He stuffs you to the brim already.
Spreading and stretchin’ his tongue against your walls- as far inside as it could possibly go. Quite audibly, you swear you can hear the sounds of his wet muscle expanding against that snug channel. “A-and, Satoru…” To him, your mewls sound like the prettiest song he’s ever heard. “-you’re so ravenous.”
He chuckles out something feral - something octaves higher than his usual baritone - against the front of your pussy. Pulling away from it with a wet smack! “All the better to…” And you know the strangely predatory tone of his voice shan’t bode well for you. And you know the way he fucking purrs—yes, purrs as he nears your pussy once more shan’t bode well for you. “-eat you, my dear.”
And then Gojo’s slamming every inch of his tongue back inside you - every fucking inch.
Except, this time…there’s a clear motivation tinglin’ at the honed tip of muscle. You could practically taste it in the soft sizzling wads of spittle that kept on leaking out of you.
Gojo was tonguing at your pussy like a maddened man- letting his nose crush against your clit, letting his canines nip slightly on your bloated folds. He plasters your cunt against his chin, head angled juuuuuust the exact number of degrees it’d take for him to propel his tongue forwards and hit a particular spot inside you.
Your feet anchor onto the luxurious mattress. Your back forms the perfect curvature against the bed.
You’re letting your moans pour out of you twofold as you throw your head back n’ forcefully wrench your hips forward. “There—” Registering, it takes a second for your mind to catch up to the fact that Gojo’s lengthy hybrid tongue has just rammed into your g-spot - with just his tastebuds. “Y-you hit my…I didn’t know that was even—oh, Toru.”
“My Queen.” Hoarse. Hissing. His tone was completely fucked as he uses his powerful tail to tug you even further against his slackened mouth, “My mate.”
“Toru, that feels too-”
“Let this kitty cream on my mouth.” Even his high cheekbones burn a faint crimson at the declaration, though he doesn’t deny nor retract it. “Let this, kitty—” Come to think of it…the snow leopard hybrid was purring as he’s makin’ out between your legs. “-let this kitty cum…”
“Gonna—” Your voice starts hatching at the back of your throat, “G-gonna cum-”
Spurred on by your affirmations, those slashes at your g-spot grow even faster. More frequent.
Deeper.
There’s a tingly buzz coating your outer pussy at the rapid movements of his tastebuds- back n’ forth, back n’ forth, back n’ forth. And you’re feeling your pleasure start to ember even more powerfully as he keeps on planting constant hits and thrashes.
Tugs and pushes.
Hit after hiiiiiiit upon your poor g-spot.
Soon enough, your vision starts to overload with sultry white stars of bliss. And Gojo smells the cloying pheromones on you before you even register it- but you’re cumming.
All over his tongue.
It’s a wave of euphoria that starts from the tips of your toes and explodes where his tongue was diggin’ between your pussylips- before ultimately shooting through every valve, blood vessel, and capillary within you. Taking over you.
Toes curling. Tears shooting up to your eyes.
This might just have been even better than those long, lonely nights beneath your royal covers - when you’d slip in a finger or two and fervently hope that your attendants didn’t need you for anything.
You’re letting out the prettiest few echoes of his name- and you don’t even care who hears you right about now. Because the one person that commanded them all - this entire land - had his head between your legs and his tongue lappin’ away hungrily.
As though he hasn’t had a proper meal in months—you’re suddenly remembering with a jolt that he’d missed dinner tonight.
Gojo manages to probe your most sensitive spot during peak after peak.
Rush upon rush of dopamine flooding your body- he was sure to drag his textured tastebuds along your most precious caverns when those times came. And perhaps if your mind was any less muddled, he’d be able to tell you that he’s timing them perfectly using the spikes of your heady pheromones whenever you felt too good - but he was happy to merely listen to your babble right now. To fuck you stupid with his mouth.
He was tugging aside your pussylips and scraping every inch of your walls as though he wanted his entire nation to hear you—“Mine.” The pointed tip of his tongue tickles your g-spot, “My mate-”
Those mere few droplets of slick you were letting out wasn’t enough for Gojo, and he’s using the unyielding restraint he had on your ankle to keep on gyrating your hips. Manhandling your hips. Grinding your wet pussy against his mouth.
His maw slurpin’ every orifice-
Spreading aside your velvety walls as though he wished to go even deeper. And he’s reaching up his right hand to push aside those swollen lips of yours and—
“Sh-shiiiiit—” You’re just barely surfacing from your last orgasm when you feel something cold n’ clammy sliding down your swollen pussylips.
Claws retracted. The knobbly tips of Gojo’s fingers spread you open—and you’re just starting to wonder which set of hands this is…when you feel the frigidness of his fucking wedding ring probe inwards. It was a band of pure silver far colder than even his own hands- contrasting thoroughly against the heat of your pussy.
You’re whining as though you’re wounded (though it was the complete opposite of feeling as such) as the ice-cold sensation of it circles your sensitive hole a few times.
Gojo teases your entrance before he’s properly sinking in. Taking his time—not at all.
Did you really think that a hybrid in heat took his time? Did you really think that a hybrid in heat didn’t have the patience to merely take his ready mate?
And that was exactly what the King was doing with his perfectly prolonged digits - already having stretched out your cunt enough that he doesn’t have to hesitate before plunging in two fingers into your wet cavern. “Wait- you’re still not done?”
His long lashes flutter, “Would you like me to be, Your Majesty?”
“N-not exactly, it’s just…” And you almost feel shy admitting this to him - even though you’ve already come…so far, there were still some etiquette lessons drilled into you. “-I thought I’d be getting Your Majesty’s cock by now.”
And that makes him stall.
That makes his doughy fingertips lurch up and hit the roof of your cunt—accidentally locating your g-spot with just a bit of swerving.
“Oh.” Gojo’s jaw drops a bit- and those dimples make an appearance once more. “Worry not, my Queen.”
There’s the most long, lecherous sluuuuuurp! as he then pulls his fingers out.
“A beautiful creature such as yourself shan’t be fucked like any other lowly human.” The hybrid leers up at you with a half-lidded gaze, and those fingers of his twitch excitedly at your entrance. He murmurs thickly, “I’m going to breed you.”
Slam!
And that’s all it takes for his fingers to stuff you in every nook n’ cranny.
Those mountainous knuckles of his start up like a battering ram between your legs, and no matter how much you’re squirming at the overstimulation- you can bet on Gojo’s tail to hold you in place. Stronger than it looked with its unassuming demeanor.
Every time you’re being lurched backwards by the sheer force of his fervid thrusts, the King drags you back down using his appendage.
Leaving you not an ounce of mercy as he’s swabbin’ his rounded fingertips into your g-spot—so long that he’d be able to tease that particular bundle and then glide down to swat your cervix.
Your eyes bulge at the feeling of his intrusion, back arching. “O-oh my god—”
“Satoru, you mean.”
“Sato—pardon?” Tears layering over your peripherals, your vision’s starting to become hazy nonetheless. And a shiver runs down your spine as you’re watching his handsome face lean closer to your dripping wet core once more.
All the excitement of Gojo hookin’ his fingers in n’ ruining you from the inside meant that your slick was overflowing. Excess that he leans down to lap his tongue over as though the sweetest nectar- and maybe it really was.
Gojo’s flattened tongue starts rolling the most lewd kitty licks over your throbbing clit—holding eye contact with you all the while. “My mate.”
“Satoru-” You yelp.
“My mate—” The constant rhythmic slamming against your g-spot was starting to make your g-spot feel tender. Perhaps it has even started bruising - perhaps you were hurtling into your second orgasm faster than you might’ve thought.
And it’s with his upper half bowed over your pussy - with his canines gnawin’ away on your clit - that Gojo pushes you into cumming. Again.
He makes yet another zap of euphoria take over your body- so lightheaded now that it felt as though you could keel over at the softest breeze. Your thighs tremble. Your legs fight to wrap around his head.
And Gojo’s taking such utter pleasure in stopping your squirming hips from moving- from smoochin’ and smoochin’ the slender tips of his fingers against your sweetest spots.
“Hafta make my- ngh, mate feel good.” He’s whispering, almost to himself. Gojo runs the plumpness of his fingertips aaaaaaall across your insides, quirking them perfectly when he has to run you through a peak of your high. “Hafta-”
“Cumming—” Too late, you’re bellowing out. “I’m c-cumming, Toru.”
“I know.” He responds simply. “This kitty told me.”
And you swear that’s enough to push you straight over another edge - another high. Sparks of friction breaking out across your skin. As Gojo stimulated your clit n’ your deepest innards to elongate this current one, and past that into another one, and another one, and another-
“Cum—fucking cum, kitty kitty.” He hums.
Four- yes, four of his fingers pushing aside your slick-glazed walls now.
By the time you’re letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, you’re completely and utterly spent. Exhausted. Unable to do anything but lay yourself spread-eagle on the duvet, you’re raising your head weakly to look down at Gojo.
He pulls off of your clit with a lecherous pop!
A few thin strings of spittle still connect you to his mouth, “Brace yourself, my mate.”
“Brace…?” And as he straightens from his position at your feet - from his position worshipping your pussy at your feet - you’re letting your jaw drop. “Oh.”
Because it was justified for him to ask you to brace yourself.
Hell, you might just not make it out alive if you didn’t brace yourself.
You’d already known that Gojo was considerably big from his time ruttin’ against you on the carpeted floor like some animal. But what you didn’t know was just what he looked like exactly.
Large.
Lavished in veins.
It was expected that Gojo would be bigger than a human man - or, at least, what you’d assumed a human man would average based upon your sparse knowledge from anatomy books - but it’s just how much bigger than made your jaw drop. For he was comfortably around eight inches, perhaps even veering into nine.
Seeing the sheer girth of his base was enough to make your thighs squeeze together- squelch! You’d underestimated just how wet you’d gotten.
Plump tip furiously swollen n’ agitated - the merest breeze was enough to make him dollop out a generous serving of his precum. It was flushed a shade of pink that matched the blush upon Gojo’s cheeks as he took in your staring.
Vermicular veins. Throbbing circumference.
And then there were his pretty balls - so full. Decorated along his v-line with a spattering of snow-white hair.
And you found yourself admitting that Gojo Satoru was strangely—pretty.
All the way down to his cock.
You swallow, “S-so?”
“Pardon? And so?” The King cocks his head in cute confusion.
His ancient bedframe then creeeeeaks as you’re lifting your hips up, “Aren’t you going to breed me like you promised, Your Majesty?”
He flinches as though he’s just been struck.
Oh…hasn’t anyone ever taught you not to poke the bear? Or in this case, the snow leopard? Nevermind that now, however, because it was far too late for it - given you’d found yourself married to one.
To the beast that bears his teeth carnally upon your provocation.
To the monster that slots his hips between your thoroughly jittery legs and gives your cunt a gooooood spankin’ with his ruddied tip.
To Gojo Satoru who runs his twitching tip down the forefront of your pussy a few times before he’s spreading apart your pussylips and push-push-puuuuushing. Sinking in his teeth into his lower lip as he sinks his cock into you—and immediately, tears spurt to his eyes.
Gojo’s barely easing an inch between your swollen folds before he’s fucking sobbing-
“It- it feels—” He’s clawing out a few wretched moans from the back of his throat. “It feels s-so—”
“So—?” You’re attempting to coax out of him. This was his first time just as much as yours, and although you might not know much about hybrid mating rituals, one thing was for sure - Gojo was extra, extra sensitive tonight.
“So g—ngh.” Choking those words straight back into his throat- he’s just barely managing to fit his plump, reddish tip in. It was throbbing against your walls and slippin’ inside with the help of your slick. “How can it feel so good?” He hisses.
Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “Pardon? Y-you’re asking me- hck! how?”
“How.” As though no other explanation was needed. Gojo’s fucking into you in shallow, short thrusts—almost nothing. Barely squeeze-squeeze-squeezing the first thickened segment of his shaft inside before he’s met with the resistance of your tight channel- and then he’s pulling back with a pained groan as if it killed him to detach himself from the glutinous embrace of your pussy.
And the more n’ more he’s feeling you—the more he’s utterly breaking upon entering your warmth. “Is there magic that you use? I-is there a spell you’ve put me under?” His grip on your waist trembles.
“No…” You whimper, “And for what reason…”
“For i-it should not be possible for a kitty to feel so…” He groans. Gojo’s eyes are fluttering shut once you give his throbbing girth a little clench, and when he opens them back up again you’re finding those sky-blue peripherals to have been covered with a few layers of tears. “-so delicious.”
“You make it sound as though you wish to- ngh, feast upon me.”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?”
The hybrid edges his perspired head closer to yours, letting the tips of his white bangs tickle your skin. “For what else must newly-weds do on the night of their wedding?”
That silver wedding ring glints on his left hand - both due to the quality of the metal, and due to the fact that it was still covered in the remnants of your sweet juices.
Gojo notices this, too.
And without a single warning, he’s reaching his hand up and sucking off the glaze of slick. Looking you straight into your dilated pupils as he does so.
It sends a carnal throb down to your cunt that he sniffs in the air-
And then everything’s happening at once.
Gojo’s jolting, Gojo’s grasping both of your pretty legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Hands upon either side of your limbs n’ wrangling them easily as he bends his upper half down looooow—kissing his sweaty forehead to yours.
The sudden change in positions makes you keen. “A-and you’re completely sure you’re inexperienced, Toru?”
“Promise, my mate.” He exhales into your mouth. “I’d never take another but you.”
And though the gesture had started off sweet…the further his mazin’ tip scoured in, the sharper his canines grew against your poor wobbly lips. The stronger his body seemed to grow in response to pinning your needy hips down and shoooooooving rude cock inside-
“Take it.” Gojo snarls into the crook of your neck, “Take it.”
“Please—” Being pushed constantly up towards the mahogany headboard.
“Take- oh.” Absent-mindedly, he wraps his powerful tail around your left thigh once more. Stopping you from being jostled back and forth because of the sheer force of his rovering hips- hips that were just hungry to feel his mate warped around his entire, rock-hard cock.
And you wonder whether he even realized.
Because if you thought it was far-fetched to assume that Gojo Satoru was breaking on your pussy just from the ruined state of his voice, then you’d be sorely mistaken.
The longer he’s tunneling between your sodden pussylips, the more n’ more he’s less the composed gentleman you’d been married to at the altar. “Take it-” To be quite honest, you’d be comfortable stating that he was becoming more hybrid than human the longer he was in lecherous contact with the wet cavern of your cunt. “Take it, take it, take it—please.”
Tears falling down his pretty cheeks.
The longer his thrusts became, the more hidden crevices inside you that he was opening up. You’d been completely right to ogle Gojo’s massive cock- because right now it felt like he was splitting you in half.
In the best way.
“You need to take it, sweetheart—” Gojo damn near whimpers, “You n-need to take your mate’s cock…”
He was straightening out the smallest crevices at your innards, he was digging his claws deeeeep against the sides of your thighs. Pulling you back after every thrust.
And it’s not long before Gojo finds himself completely bottoming out.
Letting his divot baaawl out a few ribbons of pre that slick towards your womb. Letting his bulbous, blushin’ tip thud! away at the very back of your cervix.
The silken bedsheets are bunching up where Gojo’s knees were scrambling to get even closer to the bottom of your pussy. Attempting to push his probin’ cockhead even deeper inside your sponge-covered depths, Gojo’s practically falling over himself to bend you in half.
To bend and to bend.
To thrust and to thrust-
The bed creaks in a cacophony that accurately represents just how he’s fucking you like he’s furious. Body burnished in heat. Hissing and snarling between his clenched fangs.
Those unfairly attractive hips of his were affected, too, because they’re starting to stutter forwards as though he’s just found heaven inside of you. Reeling his hips aaaaaall the way back in reverse - until his rounded, reddened tip was the only thing holding your entrance open.
And then Gojo wastes no time before pounding himself inside all the way till the hilt.
The very hilt.
You’re squirming at the patch of his white, white hair that scratches your pretty clit. “A-and about the breeding thing…”
“Hmmmm?”
“Are you really going to fuck me- ngh, pregnant, Toru?”
Awwwww—how cute. Those glowing azure eyes of his widen in amusement- or perhaps something else entirely that you weren’t able to pinpoint. He leans in with a simpering smile, “Fuck you pregnant? How crass.”
“N-ngh—” Your head throws back at the feeling of his globular cockhead lining down your g-spot. He ends up rubbin’ over that particular bundle of nerves for a few seconds, before glissading a hit straight to your womb-
“I’m going to make you my mate, my Queen.”
“Oh-”
“Officially.”
You’re unsure what exactly such an arrangement between hybrids would entail—but all you know is that you want it. Badly.
A primal desire deep-rooted into your very being, one that you couldn’t explain even if you tried - it was from the depths of your soul, pouring outward in every ribbony wire of slick that you were letting out. All for Gojo Satoru. Clinging onto Gojo Satoru.
It’s coating his thickened cock in numerous layers that glisten underneath the pale lighting of a royal chamber, splatterin’ between your two bodies as his frenzied pace only accelerates. “Sa-Satoru—”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
It always sent such a shocking thrill across your body to realize that he was the one referring to you like that - perhaps your most formidable foe yet.
And the massive bedframe creaks as you’re raising your hips up to meet his- the constant smack-smack-smacking of skin on relentless skin growing in pitch and volume. “I need it.” Looking at him through your tear-drenched lashes, “I need it s-so badly—”
“What is it?” He breathes out in an almost desperate tone. Gojo presses his lips to yours and kisses you in a way that was so fucking filthy—he’s flickering his tongue in and out, fishing out the sweet wads of your saliva. Before leaning his head back a bit and spitting between your wobbling lips - claiming every spot inside you that he wanted to. “What is it that you wish for, my Queen?”
Before anything else, his right hand then snakes between your two sweaty bodies.
Familiarly locating your cute clit and giving a few niiiiice rolls between his index and his thumb.
“Tell me—” He responds. He begs. “Tell me what it is your heart desires-” His sentences and syllables being punctuated by a solid slam against the back of your pussy every time. “Tell me, and I shall move mountains and heaven for you, my mate.”
And after such a declaration, a part of you almost feels embarrassed about the next words out of your mouth—“I want you to…cum inside me, Toru.”
He jolts. “Sweetheart, are you aware-”
“Not that.” Gojo answers - and the sudden leer that follows is something that makes your lips part. Something that was certainly not going to bode well for you or your poor pussy…“Sweetheart, are you aware that-”
And before he’s finishing that particular sentence, Gojo reaches down and gently clasps your dominant hand in his own.
He tugs it down between his legs-
To where you’re feeling the smooth gliiiide down his erect shaft—down every single curve, crevice, and vein. He was just so long that this made you squirm. Ultimately, you’re ending up with your fingertips pressed against the very start of Gojo’s hilt, where the carpet of his white hair was just ending.
And you’re wondering just what it is he was trying to oh-so-lecherously make you feel when…
When your palm pushes up against something so very thick and swollen at the base of Gojo’s cock. And you’re just gasping-
“A-are you aware of the effect you have on me, Your Majesty?” Gojo’s ragged tone permeates your hearing, punctuated by the constant thrashes n’ bucks of his hungry cock. Inside, inside, inside. “Are you aware that this is how you make me feel?”
He crushes your hand even further against that extra swollen portion of his erection, “And h-how exactly…”
He falters, “Pardon?”
“How exactly is…this, Toru?”
“How exactly?” He’s hissing through his teeth, tone wavering unsteadily. He sounds ruined, he sounds shattered—he sounds gone. There’s almost a sense of amusement in his tone as though you were pulling on his leg - he bores deeeeply into your eyes whilst he fucks you. “How exactly—?”
“Y-ye—oh.”
Slam!
At that very moment, he’s rammin’ his hips into yours so hard that the skin around his pelvis reddens. Stings.
And Gojo himself can’t help but let his head fall backwards with a guttural hiss, those pretty white brows of his knotting—“Fuh-fuck.” Before starting to rut down in even sloppier pushes of his firmed-up cock.
Hard.
Fast.
Your ass cheeks were practically refusing to have contact with the bedspread below. Just bent that far.
The question he’d asked you earlier had been a rhetorical one - though that doesn’t stop Gojo himself from pistoning into you as though he was attempting to fuck the answer out of you. As though he was hoping the globular edge of his shaft would reach your pretty brain, n’ swerve around a bit to ultimately activate whatever part of you there was that’d understand.
To flick a switch on - something carnal.
Once you’ve been pounded utterly stupid- Gojo presses down with his mazing cockhead until you’re filled up to the very hilt. And you can feel the swollen ring at his base start to relax against the front of your puckered pussylips, “What you need to know is…this is a knot, sweetheart.”
“A knot?” Babbling through your tears.
“A knot.” Gojo affirms, “And do you know what hybrids do to their mates using their knots?”
Shaking your head.
“First, we claim our mates.” He’s draggin’ his roughened thumb down between your sultry pussylips and rolling over your clit. If you were in any clearer a state of mind right now, perhaps you’d have noticed that he was spelling out his first fucking name on top of that swollen nub. “First, we fuck them until they can’t speak—can’t move—can’t do anything but beg for more.”
You’re bucking upwards greedily, and in response he’s letting out a growl. “Y-yes, and?”
“Then we let them cum a few cute times—” He’s giggling at the way your mouth drops in realization - he was doing the exact same thing to you.
Was technically, still doing the exact same thing to you with the way he’s stimulating every fibre of your being. “And then-”
“Then we get them in a cute- hah, mating press.” His fluffy tail swooshes around before looping around your left thigh and tightening, veering dangerously close to the in-betweens of your legs. As if he was sharing his most precious secret in the world with you, Gojo leans dooooown until his lips were at your ear- “Then we cum so much inside them that they can’t even breathe without feelin’ me all inside your pretty kitty.”
Sobbing, “Th-then—?”
“Then…” The King’s reeling his powerful hips backwards, all the way until he’s nearly pulled out. Only the better to fuck you with…“Then m’fucking you with my fat knot until you can’t even think about letting my cum go to waste, my mate.”
“Oh—”
And with one hand braced upon the right side of your head - the other furiously toying with your perked clit - Gojo’s striking your pussylips in constant thwacks! Thwack! after thwack!
Trying to get his knot to fit inside.
Gojo’s vein-covered cock massaging your walls in such a frenzy just feels so good- “O-oh my god…” You’re babbling out, “Toru, m’gonna cum again.”
“Good.”
“Toru, m’gonna cum now—”
“Good.”
Those half-lidded blue eyes of his were locked on every expression you were making - even the tiniest shifts and twitches. His nostrils flare once you’re feeling your stomach give into the surges of pleasure shooting up from your cunt—and the hybrid seems to know before even you do when you’re crash-landing straight into your nth high of the night.
You’ve seriously lost count.
“C-cumming…” You mewl out weakly- hands coming up to clasp onto his sweaty head. Pressing your lips against his as he fucks you through every zap of pleasure. “Feels so good- ngh, feels so good—”
“Is that so?” He harkens, “Is that so, Your Majesty?”
“Never felt anything better-”
Eventually, your high rises and falls faster than it has before - solely due to the sheer number of times tonight. It’s nothing but the splash of dopamine that engulfs your body and leaves it sizzling with pleasure moments afterwards.
Even the slightest rub-a-dub of Gojo’s veiny patterns leaves you gaping. Those aftershocks were so strong that it makes your eyes tear up—“I need it.”
Before long, Gojo feels you grab onto a handful of his perspired hair and haul him even closer. And he can’t deny the way that makes his swollen tip twitch just a little harder inside you-
“I need you to c-cum inside me…” You’re pleading up at him, “Need you to- ngh, mate me, Toru.”
“Oh…” After a few more sloppy strikes, he’s letting his tail drift up from your legs to your abdomen. Just where your spine ended, you’re feeling that powerful appendage of his push up on your body and arch your hips up a bit further. “Then brace yourself, my mate.”
And it takes only a single, slammin’ thrust for him to empty out his wads of cum.
Bucketload upon bucketload that he’d been waiting to pour into you for soooooo fucking long now. Thick. Treacly. Those constant ribbons of cum web your insides like a flood, splashin’ around and helping him reach your womb in no time.
It’s just so hot and wet.
It’s just bloating up those poor pussylips of yours- before the man himself eases down his pace to better end up pushin’ those wettened wads inside.
You could physically feel the flared ridge of his mushroom tip—spreading apart those gluey walls of yours and fucking his cum even deeper. Deeper. “Fuck.” Clinging onto every nook n’ hidden cranny inside you as you’re getting utterly stuffed—straight to the brim. It’s already starting to froth outwards, “Fuck-”
“Settle, my mate.” Gojo’s dragging you in with his fluffy white tail, ears flattened in pleasure. It takes a single tug for him to jerk you down- “Shhhhhhh shhh shh, settle.”
“I’m- I’m trying—”
“We’re not even halfway done yet.”
“Pardon?”
It’s the last thing you’re hearing before Gojo jerks his hips forward and fucks his knot past that first ring of your entrance - only about halfway through.
The Hybrid King has to use his hand upon your clit to stretch your pussylips apart- to ease your elastic hole to the side just a bit before he’s siiiiiiiinking his thickened base inside. It takes a few tries - a few animalistic bucks - for him to finally fit his knot between your legs with the loudest slurp. “Got it—”
Gojo’s hissing breath cascades down the front of your body, and his clammy head drops into the crook of your neck.
“G-got you.”
Before you know it, you’re feeling the sharp punctures of his canines against your swollen scent glands. Those sensitive bumps against the side of your neck - you’d noticed them growing more and more inflamed throughout the course of the night, and they’re just so volatile as Gojo sinks his leopard-like fangs in.
You feel something deep inside you pop!
Your scent gland. Or whatever it was that humans had similar…
And he holds you there like this - like a predator with his teeth dug into the throat of his prey - until both your waves of bliss have completed. Until he’s emptied his swollen balls inside of you, and he’s completely n’ utterly sucked dry by the wettened warmth of your pussy.
You’re squirming at the feeling of his heaping puddles of ivory deep inside you—“T-Toru.”
Gojo finally pulls off with a heated pwah! and stuffs his face into the crook of your neck. “Yes, my mate?”
Mate. Mate. Mate.
Now you were officially his mate.
His knot was pulsing deep inside you, softening ever-so-slightly as the moments pass.
You’re running your hands through his perspired air, “I just wanted to know…” Wording your sentence carefully, your sentiments hidden. “Why m-”
“Who else would it be but you?” He’s interrupting you instantly. Immediately, Gojo pulls away and peers at you with his widened eyes—“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but in this life and every other…” He grasps your hand and presses his pinkish lips to the back of it, “-this lowly hybrid has always been fated to be yours.”
“Every other?” You ask with bated breath.
“Every other.” He affirms. “In every life, we were meant to find one another…” And he looked almost shy admitting such a thing—“We hybrids…we can feel it. Though for you humans, it may not be so strong.”
“Oh.” Your mouth drops softly.
“But even if we weren’t…” Gojo finally tears his eyes off of you- as though it pained him to not have you before his gaze for even a mere moment. “—I would have found you if it tore down the Earth.”
And then you’re turning with him.
Following his line of sight.
Right to the wall of his bedroom that you’d noticed had been painted before- but never noticed exactly with what upon it—
It was a painting of you.
More specifically, of a landscape from what you’d assumed to be this very bedroom: the sprawling valleys and fields that led up to your kingdom. The thorn barrier that separated him from you. Though no barrier could ever possibly hide the spiral of your wing, the blinking light that you’d put out every night - hoping, just hoping that someone would see it and answer.
How had you not noticed this before?
Perhaps, in your own way, you’d been searching for him, too.
“I would like to stay, Satoru.” You breathe, as if a secret. “I would like to stay- and I would also like for you to love my kingdom just as much as I shall love yours.”
“Then it shall be done.” He presses his forehead to yours, “Revenge has never been my strong suit.‘
Unbeknownst to yourself, you’ve teared up- and Gojo reaches down to gently wipe those hot tears away. He murmurs deeply, “My mate…”
“Yes, my husband?”
“We’re going to rule the world.”
You’re learning two more things about hybrids in the succeeding hour.
The first being that they really did have a particular talent for the arts - Gojo especially, considering that he’d been the one to paint most of the artworks in the palace. Including this one.
synopsis: You die completely at random and wake up in the manhwa you were reading… as the villainous wife of the Duke of the North, no less. The same woman who spent the last six months giving her husband the cold shoulder, ruining their marriage, and basically speedrunning her own execution.
Now you have exactly one job: fix this disaster of a relationship before your husband decides to finish what the original plot started.
a\n: longest fic i’ve written so far. nearly lost my mind, almost scrapped it entirely, questioned every life choice that led me here, but somehow, against all odds… it’s done. so glad its over LOL
You died while reading a manhwa.
One moment you were curled up in bed at 3 a.m., a blanket pulled up to your chin, the only light in your dark room coming from your phone screen. Your eyes were glued to the latest chapter of The Duke’s Black Heart, thumb hovering over the final panel as frustration and reluctant longing twisted in your chest. The illustration was breathtakingly brutal: Duke Ryomen Sukuna standing tall amid swirling snow, pink hair tousled by the wind, crimson eyes empty of mercy, black tattoos stark against his skin as he looked down at the broken body of his wife.
The page loaded one last time. The panel filled your screen. Then your vision blurred, the room spun violently, and everything went black. No pain. No final breath. Just sudden, heavy nothing.
And then you woke up somewhere else.
Cold air rushes into your lungs, sharp and biting. Your eyes flutter open slowly, lashes feeling unusually heavy. You’re lying in a massive four-poster bed, the canopy above you made of thick crimson velvet that drapes down like heavy curtains. The silk sheets beneath you are cool and slippery against your skin in a way that feels far too expensive, far too unfamiliar. Thick blankets weighted with fur press down on your body, carrying a faint scent of woodsmoke and aged iron. Your limbs feel wrong — too slender, too delicate. When you lift your hands, they are smaller, with smooth palms and perfectly manicured nails that catch the dim morning light filtering through tall, frost-laced windows.
You push yourself up into a sitting position. The silk nightgown slips off one shoulder. A large, ornately framed mirror stands across the room, reflecting the lavish bedchamber: dark wood furniture, heavy tapestries on the walls, a fireplace crackling faintly in the corner. You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting cold stone that sends a shiver racing up your spine.
You turn toward the mirror.
The face staring back at you is not your own. It is strikingly beautiful in a refined, aristocratic way that feels both alien and intimidating.
You have transmigrated.
You are now the villainess.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna’s wife of exactly six months.
The realization slams into you like ice water. Memories that don’t belong to you flood your mind in vivid, unrelenting flashes. The forced marriage ceremony under the Emperor’s decree. The wedding night where her body had lain stiff and unresponsive beneath his, silent tears tracking down her cheeks as she called him a beast under her breath and swore she would never allow him to touch her again. Six agonizing months of total, deliberate silence: never speaking a single word directly to him, never sharing his table, never sharing his bed. Only curt notes passed through servants, hidden schemes whispered to outsiders, and a cold, hateful distance that grew sharper every day. Sukuna’s contempt had hardened into something lethal.
In the original story, he kills her. Publicly. Brutally. Before the year is out — dragging her into the courtyard and ending her life with the same large, scarred hands you’ve fantasized about for months.
And now I’m her.
Your breath catches sharply in your throat. Panic explodes in your chest, tight and suffocating. Your hands fly up to press against your sternum, feeling the frantic thud of a heart that isn’t supposed to be yours. Cold sweat prickles along your hairline and down your back. The room feels smaller, the air thicker. If I don’t change this right now, he will kill me. I have to win him over — the man I’ve been completely obsessed with — before he decides I’m still that same woman who deserves to die.
The heavy wooden door creaks open. Two maids slip inside, heads bowed low, shoulders hunched like they’re expecting the worst. They carry a tray between them with a pitcher of steaming water, neatly folded linens, and a small bowl of scented oil. Their footsteps are quick but nearly silent on the cold stone floor, as if they’re trying to disturb you as little as possible.
“My Lady,” the older maid says quietly, almost whispering as she carefully sets the tray down on the side table. “We’re here to help you dress. Your usual silks today?”
You swallow and keep your voice soft. “No, not the silks. Something simpler and warmer, please. I’m going down to have breakfast with the Duke in the dining hall.”
The younger maid’s eyes go wide. She almost drops the pitcher, water sloshing dangerously over the rim and dripping onto the floor. “Breakfast… with His Grace?” she blurts, voice cracking with surprise. “In the dining hall?”
The older maid quickly elbows her and forces a nervous smile, though her hands are visibly shaking. “Are you sure, My Lady? He always eats alone. He might not… like it if you show up.”
You nod, sliding your legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor is icy against your bare feet, sending a shiver up your legs. “I’m sure. Please help me get ready.” You pause, then add gently, “And thank you. Both of you.”
The maids go completely still. The younger one stares at you with her mouth slightly open, pitcher forgotten in her hands. The older one blinks rapidly, her hands freezing mid-air above the tray. They exchange a wide-eyed, startled glance, the kind that speaks volumes without a single word. The silence stretches for a long, awkward moment, thick with confusion and unease.
Finally, the older maid clears her throat. “Of course, My Lady. Right away.”
They hesitate for another heartbeat, still stealing uncertain glances at you, before hurrying into motion. Their hands are a little clumsier than usual as they help you out of the nightgown and into a heavy charcoal gown with long sleeves. The soft wool feels warm and comforting against the chill in the air. While they brush out your hair and pin it up in a simple style, they keep darting quick, nervous looks at your reflection in the mirror. The younger maid’s fingers tremble slightly as she works, and the older one’s breathing is a touch too shallow.
They finish dressing you in tense, heavy silence. Once they step back, you thank them again. They both bow deeply, still visibly unsettled, and you step out into the torch-lit corridor. Servants you pass press themselves flat against the walls, whispering frantically the moment your back is turned. Your heart hammers louder with every step toward the grand dining hall.
The massive double doors swing open with a low creak.
There he is.
Duke Ryomen Sukuna sits alone at the head of the long oak table. Pale morning light filters through the tall windows, casting sharp shadows across his face. Loose strands of pink hair have escaped their tie and fall across his forehead. His dark tunic stretches tight over broad, powerfully muscled shoulders, the collar open just enough to reveal the edges of intricate black tattoos that swirl across his collarbones and down his arms. Crimson eyes are narrowed in concentration as he cuts into a thick slab of meat with slow, deliberate strokes of his knife. Old scars mark the visible skin of his neck and the backs of his large, calloused hands. He radiates raw, quiet danger — the kind that makes the air feel heavier. This is the man you’ve spent months fantasizing about, the one whose every appearance in the manhwa made your pulse race.
You walk straight to the chair on his right — the seat that has stayed empty for the entire six months of your marriage — and sit down.
His knife stops mid-cut.
The silence is immediate and suffocating, broken only by the soft crackle of the hearth fire.
Sukuna’s crimson gaze lifts slowly. It locks onto you with raw disbelief and burning disgust. His jaw clenches, the scar along his cheek tightening. For a long moment he simply stares, like he’s trying to decide whether you’re real or some new form of insult.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice is low and rough, laced with irritation.
You swallow hard, hands trembling under the table. You force a small, nervous smile and say softly, “Good morning, husband. I thought it might be nice to have breakfast together for once.”
The words hang in the air.
Sukuna’s expression darkens. He sets the knife down with a sharp clink that echoes through the hall. Slowly he rises to his full height, towering over you — tall, broad-chested, every inch the warlord who has killed without hesitation. The look he gives you is ice-cold.
“You thought it would be nice?” His voice is low, cold, and dripping with contempt. “Six fucking months you couldn’t even be bothered to speak to me… and now you suddenly decide to play house?”
He pushes the chair back with a harsh scrape and rises to his full height, towering over you. His large hand clenches so tightly around the back of the chair that the wood groans in protest.
“Just looking at you ruins my appetite.”
Without another word, he turns sharply on his heel. His cloak snaps behind him like a whip as he stalks out of the hall. The heavy doors slam shut with a deafening boom that echoes through the room and makes the silverware rattle on the table.
You’re left completely alone at the long table, staring at his abandoned plate as the food rapidly cools. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.
This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
But you don’t run. You pick up your fork with still-shaking fingers, take a small bite of the now-lukewarm food, and force yourself to swallow. A heavy, determined weight settles in your stomach alongside the food.
The rest of the morning dragged by in a haze of nervous energy. You moved carefully through the castle, speaking softly to the servants, thanking them for small things, and trying not to overwhelm anyone with your sudden change in behavior. Every time someone flinched or stared too long, your stomach twisted. You knew they were waiting for the old you to snap back into place.
By mid-afternoon the light outside had shifted to a softer gold, and the castle felt a little less oppressive. You decided it was time to try something more direct.
You found one of the kitchen maids and asked her to prepare a simple tray — strong black tea, warm bread, and a few slices of roasted meat. These were the things you remembered him enjoying in the manhwa, the small details you’d clung to while reading late at night. Nothing too elaborate. When the tray was ready, you took it yourself, ignoring the wide-eyed, startled looks from the staff as you carried it down the long corridor toward Sukuna’s private study. Your heart beat faster with every step.
Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to climb out of your throat. Two guards outside the heavy double doors stared at you in open confusion but didn’t stop you. You paused for a second, took a steadying breath, and knocked once.
A gruff “Come in” came from inside.
You pushed the door open and stepped into the study.
The room was exactly the kind of place you’d pictured him in — tall shelves lined with old books and rolled scrolls, a massive oak desk covered in maps and scattered letters, weapons mounted neatly on one wall. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the air with the faint smell of smoke and polished leather. Sukuna sat behind the desk, quill in hand, pink hair tied back messily with a few loose strands falling forward. He didn’t look up right away, focused on whatever he was writing.
Then his crimson eyes flicked up.
The moment they landed on you holding the tray, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. His expression shifted from irritation to pure suspicion in a heartbeat.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, voice low and flat, like he was already tired of whatever game he thought you were playing.
You stepped further inside and carefully set the tray down on the edge of his desk, trying not to let your hands shake too obviously. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything at breakfast,” you said quietly. “So I brought some tea and a few things. It’s nothing fancy. I just thought… maybe you’d be hungry by now.”
Sukuna leaned back in his chair, studying you like you were a problem he couldn’t quite solve. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable. He glanced at the tray, then back at your face.
“You brought me food,” he said slowly, almost like he was testing the words. “You suddenly show up with tea and bread like we’re… what? Friends now?”
He pushed his chair back and stood, circling around the desk with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing right in front of you. He was so tall you had to tilt your head back to look at him. Up close he was even more overwhelming — the heat radiating from his body, the faint scent of leather and steel and something darker, the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the space between you.
You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I know I’ve been terrible to you,” you said, voice soft but steady. “I don’t expect you to believe me right away. I just… I want to try and do better. That’s all.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. He reached out and picked up one of the slices of bread, turning it over in his large hand as if checking it for poison. Then he dropped it back onto the tray with a quiet scoff.
“You want to try,” he repeated, the words laced with disbelief and a sharp edge of mockery. “How convenient. Tell me, wife — what exactly changed overnight? Did someone put you up to this?”
His hand suddenly came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly but not harshly, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. His touch was warm, rough from years of fighting, and the closeness made your pulse spike.
“Or are you just scared I’ll finally do what everyone’s been expecting me to do for months?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
Your breath caught. Being this close to him — feeling the intensity rolling off him in waves — made fear and something far more complicated twist together in your stomach.
“I’m not here to scheme,” you whispered. “I just don’t want things to keep being like this.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy moment. His thumb brushed once over your jaw, almost absentmindedly, before he let go and stepped back.
“Get out,” he said, the words cold but quieter than you expected. “And take your pity tray with you.”
He didn’t move away any further. He stayed standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes — like he was waiting to see whether you would actually leave… or do something else.
You didn’t argue.
You simply picked up the tray with both hands, gave him a small nod, and left the study without another word. The heavy doors clicked shut behind you. The hallway felt longer than usual as you walked back toward your chambers, the tray growing heavier with every step.
Once inside your room, you set the tray down on a side table and closed the door. Then you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.
That went badly.
You let out a slow breath, rubbing your hands over your thighs. The memory of Sukuna’s cold stare and dismissive words kept replaying in your head. He hadn’t even touched the food. He’d barely listened.
Of course he didn’t. Months of silence doesn’t just disappear because I brought him tea.
You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the canopy above the bed. The situation felt heavier now. Fixing this relationship was going to be a lot harder than you’d hoped. He clearly still saw you as the same person who had ignored and schemed against him for half a year. And why wouldn’t he?
If you couldn’t turn this around, things were only going to get worse. You didn’t want to think about how the original story ended, but the possibility lingered in the back of your mind anyway.
You sat there for a while, the afternoon light slowly shifting across the room. Eventually you stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the grounds. Your mind kept turning over what to try next. Another small gesture? Giving him more space? Something else entirely?
It was going to take time. A lot of it. And patience you weren’t sure you had.
You sighed quietly and moved away from the window, already thinking about what you could do tomorrow.
The next morning arrived quietly.
You woke earlier than usual, the soft grey light filtering through the tall windows pulling you from a restless sleep. For a few minutes you lay there, staring at the velvet canopy above the bed, thinking about yesterday. The rejections still stung, but you refused to give up after just one bad day.
You got up, washed, and chose a simple but elegant deep-grey gown. After eating a light breakfast alone in your room, you decided on a different approach today. No trays, no forcing your way into his meals. Just quiet presence.
You made your way to the castle’s main library — a spacious, peaceful room lined with tall shelves of books and scrolls. You picked a thick volume on regional history from the shelves and settled into a comfortable chair near the window where the light was good. Not too close to his usual spot, but not hiding either.
About an hour later, the door opened.
Sukuna walked in, still wearing his cloak from whatever business he’d been handling outside. He stopped short when he saw you already there, book open in your lap.
For a brief second his expression flickered with surprise before settling back into that familiar guarded look.
“You’re here too now,” he said, voice flat as he moved toward the large table in the center of the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down, spreading some documents in front of him. “Is there anywhere in this castle that’s still mine?”
You closed your book slowly and looked up at him.
“I can leave if you want,” you offered calmly. “I just thought it might be nice to read in here. It’s quiet.”
Sukuna didn’t tell you to go. He leaned back in his chair and studied you for a moment, crimson eyes sharp and assessing.
“You’ve been talking quite a bit these past two days,” he said, tone dry. “More than I’m used to.”
You gave a small, honest shrug. “I know. I’m trying to change that.”
He tapped his fingers once against the table, watching you openly now. “Trying,” he echoed, like he was testing the word. “That’s what you keep saying. But I still don’t know why.”
You hesitated, then answered simply, “Because I don’t like how things have been between us. And I think we could be… better. If we tried.”
Sukuna let out a short, humorless breath and leaned back further, still studying you.
“Better,” he repeated. “That’s a bold claim.” He paused, then added quietly, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not interested in pretending.”
But he didn’t ask you to leave.
You stayed in the library for another hour, reading in silence while he worked across from you. He didn’t speak again, but every so often you caught him glancing in your direction — wary, confused, and just a little unsettled.
It wasn’t much.
But it also wasn’t outright rejection.
You stayed in the library for another hour, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of paper and the soft crackle of the fire. You kept your eyes mostly on your book, though you were barely absorbing the words. Every now and then you felt Sukuna’s gaze on you — heavy, searching, and still full of suspicion.
Eventually, he set his quill down with a quiet tap. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he looked at you directly.
“If you’re serious about wanting to fix things,” he said, voice low and even, “then maybe you should start by actually appearing publicly with me.”
You looked up from your book, surprised. He continued before you could respond.
“There’s a ball tomorrow night at the capital. I’m expected to attend.” He paused, studying your reaction. “Rumors have already reached half the empire that my wife hates me. It would be good to change the public perception a little. At least act like a fucking couple for once.”
The invitation — if it could even be called that — hung in the air. It wasn’t warm or romantic. It was a test, plain and simple.
You closed your book slowly and met his eyes. “I’ll go with you,” you said without hesitation. “If that’s what you want.”
Sukuna watched you for a long moment, as if waiting for you to take it back. When you didn’t, something unreadable flickered across his face.
“Good,” he said simply. Then he stood up, gathering some of his documents. “Be ready by evening tomorrow. Don’t make me wait.”
He headed toward the door, cloak shifting over his shoulders. Just before he left, he paused and glanced back at you one last time.
“And try not to embarrass me,” he added, though his tone was less biting than before. Almost… cautious.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet library once again.
You let out a long breath and leaned back in your chair, heart still racing. A public ball. Tomorrow. With Sukuna.
This was a big step — and a dangerous one. You’d have to be careful. Very careful.
But it was also an opportunity. A chance to stand beside him in front of everyone and start showing that you were different.
You stood up, clutching the book to your chest, a mix of nerves and quiet determination settling in your stomach.
Tomorrow it is.
The next day passed in a quiet blur of nerves and preparation.
You spent most of the afternoon trying not to overthink everything, but as evening approached, the anxiety crept in anyway. When the maids finally arrived to help you get ready, they moved around your room with careful, slightly confused energy — still adjusting to this gentler version of their mistress.
You chose a deep crimson gown made of rich, heavy silk that flowed elegantly to the floor. It had long, fitted sleeves and a modestly elegant neckline that showed just enough collarbone to feel refined rather than daring. The maids helped you into it, lacing the back with steady fingers while you stood in front of the large mirror. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your skin, the color bringing out a quiet intensity you hadn’t expected.
They brushed your hair until it gleamed, working through every tangle with patient strokes. Most of it was pinned up into an elegant style with delicate silver pins, but they left a few soft strands loose to frame your face. One of the maids added a simple but beautiful necklace with a single dark gem that rested just below your collarbone, along with matching earrings. A touch of rose-tinted balm was applied to your lips, and a light dusting of powder to even your complexion.
You stared at your reflection the entire time, heart beating faster. This version of you looked every bit the refined duchess — poised, beautiful, and completely unlike the cold, silent woman the public had come to expect at Sukuna’s side.
“You look beautiful, My Lady,” the older maid said softly as she stepped back, a hint of genuine surprise in her voice.
“Thank you,” you replied quietly, smoothing your hands down the front of the gown. Inside, your stomach was in knots. This would be your first real public appearance with Sukuna. Everyone would be watching. Waiting for the usual tension or outright disdain they’d grown used to seeing between the Duke and his wife.
A firm knock sounded at the door.
“He’s ready for you, My Lady,” a servant called from the hallway.
You took one last steadying breath, thanked the maids again, and stepped out.
Sukuna was waiting in the main hall, dressed in formal black with subtle gold embroidery along the collar and cuffs. His pink hair was neatly tied back, and the sight of him in full formal attire made your chest tighten. He looked every bit the powerful duke — tall, imposing, and dangerously handsome.
His crimson eyes swept over you slowly, from head to toe. For a moment his expression was unreadable.
“You’re actually coming,” he said, voice low. It wasn’t quite a question.
“I said I would,” you replied simply.
He gave a short nod, then offered his arm. The gesture felt stiff, like he was still testing whether you’d take it or pull away at the last second.
You slipped your hand through his arm without hesitation. His muscles were tense beneath your fingers, but he didn’t pull away.
As you walked together toward the waiting carriage, he spoke again, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear.
“People talk. A lot. If we’re going to do this, at least try to look like you don’t hate being next to me.”
You glanced up at him. “I don’t hate it.”
Sukuna didn’t respond, but his grip on your arm tightened just slightly — not painful, just… firmer. Like he was anchoring himself.
The carriage ride to the capital was quiet, the only sounds being the wheels on the road and the occasional shift of fabric. Sukuna sat across from you, watching the passing scenery with a distant expression. Every so often his gaze would drift back to you, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were really there.
When the carriage finally slowed to a stop outside the grand hall, music and warm light spilled out into the night. You could already hear the murmur of voices and feel the weight of the eyes that would soon be on both of you.
Sukuna stepped out first, then offered his hand to help you down. His palm was warm and steady against yours.
“Ready?” he asked, voice gruff.
You nodded, slipping your hand back into the crook of his arm.
“Then let’s go act like a fucking couple.”
The grand hall glowed under hundreds of crystal chandeliers, casting warm golden light across marble floors and velvet-draped walls. Music from a full orchestra swelled through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and the rustle of silk and satin gowns. The scent of expensive perfumes, fresh flowers, and roasted meats from the banquet tables hung heavy in the room.
The moment you and Sukuna stepped through the tall arched entrance together, the entire atmosphere shifted.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of surprised murmurs spread through the crowd like a wave.
You felt every eye on you. Some were curious, some shocked, many openly calculating. The Duke and Duchess of the North rarely appeared together in public — and when they had in the past, it had always been marked by cold distance and icy silence.
Tonight was different.
Sukuna’s arm was solid beneath your fingers as he guided you forward. His posture was straight and commanding, every inch the powerful Duke Sukuna the empire feared and respected. You stayed close, your hand resting lightly but deliberately on his arm, chin lifted with quiet confidence.
A portly lord with a heavy gold chain and an embroidered waistcoat approached first, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace, Duke Sukuna,” he said smoothly, then turned to you with a slightly wider smile. “And Duchess… what an unexpected pleasure to see you both together this evening.”
Sukuna gave a curt nod. “My wife wished to attend. I saw no reason to refuse her.”
The lord’s eyebrows rose, but he recovered quickly. “How wonderful. The two of you make quite the striking pair tonight. The Duke and Duchess of the North, united at last.”
You offered a polite, gentle smile. “Thank you, my lord. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
Sukuna’s arm tensed slightly under your hand, but he didn’t pull away. As the lord moved on, more nobles drifted closer, drawn by the unusual sight. You heard the whispers clearly now.
“...the Duke and Duchess actually look civil…”
“I thought she hated him…”
“Look at them. She’s practically standing with him…”
Sukuna kept you close the entire time, one large hand occasionally resting at the small of your back as you moved through the hall. The touch was possessive, almost protective, even if his face remained cool and composed.
Later, when the orchestra struck up a slower, more intimate melody, Sukuna leaned down, his voice low against your ear.
“Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question.
You nodded. He led you onto the polished floor, one broad hand settling firmly on your waist while the other held yours. He moved with surprising grace for someone of his size and power — confident, controlled, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You followed his lead, hyper-aware of every point of contact: the heat of his palm burning through the silk of your gown, the solid wall of his chest so close to yours, the faint scent of leather and smoke that clung to him.
For a few moments the rest of the room seemed to fade.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the music. His crimson eyes flicked down to meet yours. “People are staring less like they’re waiting for us to start arguing in the middle of the floor.”
You looked up at him, a small genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I told you I wanted to try.”
His grip on your waist tightened just slightly. His thumb brushed once over the fabric of your gown, almost absentmindedly.
“Don’t get comfortable,” he said, though there was less bite in his tone than usual. “This doesn’t mean I trust you yet.”
“I know,” you replied softly. “But thank you for giving me the chance anyway.”
Sukuna didn’t answer. But he also didn’t let go of you when the song ended. Instead, he kept his hand on your lower back as he guided you off the floor, staying closer than strictly necessary.
A short while later, a group of older lords approached Sukuna. One of them — a tall man with silver hair and sharp features — gave a respectful bow.
“Your Grace, if we could steal a moment of your time? There are some matters regarding the northern border that require your input.”
Sukuna’s jaw tightened for a brief second. He glanced down at you, then back at the lords.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “I won’t be long.”
Before he stepped away, he leaned in close to your ear, voice low. “Stay here. Don’t wander off.”
You nodded. His hand lingered on your waist for one extra second before he pulled away and followed the group toward a quieter side balcony for their discussion.
Suddenly, you were alone.
You stood near the edge of the dance floor, champagne glass in hand, trying to look more relaxed than you felt. The weight of curious stares hadn’t faded. A few noblewomen still whispered behind their fans, and every so often someone would glance your way with open speculation.
A deep, smooth voice spoke from your left.
“Duchess, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of a proper introduction tonight.”
You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and sharp green eyes watching you with a lazy, confident smile. He was dressed in deep emerald and black, a marquess’s insignia pinned neatly to his lapel.
“Marquess Toji Fushiguro,” he introduced himself with a respectful bow of his head. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you over the years. Though I must say, seeing you here with the Duke tonight is… refreshing.”
His tone was warm and easy, without any obvious scheming edge. You felt yourself relax just a little.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marquess,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve heard your name mentioned before. You handle the eastern trade routes, don’t you?”
Toji’s smile widened, looking genuinely pleased that you knew. “I do. Though I’m surprised you’re familiar with such dull matters. Most duchesses prefer to stay far away from trade talk.”
The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was charming in a straightforward, slightly roguish way — asking light questions about the northern estates, commenting on the music, and even making a dry joke about how stiff most balls tended to be. You found yourself smiling more naturally, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chatted. For the first time that evening, talking to someone felt… comfortable.
Toji tilted his head slightly, green eyes glinting with curiosity. “If I may be bold, Duchess — you seem different tonight than what the rumors suggested. Happier, perhaps?”
You were about to respond when a large, familiar hand suddenly slid around your waist from behind, fingers gripping your hip with clear possessiveness. A warm, solid body pressed against your back, and you didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Sukuna.
His grip tightened, pulling you back against his chest in one smooth motion. The heat of his body seeped through the silk of your gown, and his thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone — a blatant, territorial claim.
Toji’s easy smile faltered for half a second before he recovered, inclining his head respectfully.
“Duke Sukuna,” he greeted calmly. “I was just keeping your wife company while you were occupied.”
Sukuna’s voice was low and dangerous, rumbling against your back. “I can see that.” His hand stayed firmly on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make a point. “Though I don’t recall asking anyone to entertain my duchess.”
You felt the tension rolling off him in waves. His other arm came around your other side, almost caging you against him in front of the entire hall.
Toji raised an eyebrow, still perfectly civil. “No offense meant, Your Grace. It was an honor speaking with the Duchess.”
Sukuna didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke loud enough for Toji to hear.
“We’re leaving this conversation,” he said flatly. Then, louder, “Come, wife.”
Sukuna didn’t stop walking until he had guided you into a quieter corner of the grand hall, partially shielded by a tall marble pillar and heavy crimson velvet drapes. The music and chatter of the ball felt distant now, muffled. His hand never left your hip. If anything, his grip tightened, fingers digging possessively into the silk of your gown as though he needed the contact to ground himself.
He turned you to face him with surprising care, then backed you gently but firmly against the cool marble pillar. One large hand stayed locked on your waist while the other came up to brace beside your head, effectively caging you in. His body heat enveloped you instantly — warm, solid, and overwhelming. The faint scent of smoke, leather, and something darker clung to him, making your pulse stutter.
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said, voice low and rough, almost a growl. His crimson eyes burned down into yours with unmistakable intensity. “Laughing with him like the two of you were old friends. Did you forget you’re here with me tonight?”
The jealousy in his tone was unmistakable — sharp, dark, and barely leashed.
You kept your voice calm, though your heart was racing. “We were only talking. He was civil. Nothing more.”
Sukuna’s jaw clenched visibly. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles over the curve of your hip through the thin silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rushing across your skin.
“Civil,” he repeated, the word laced with pure disdain. “I saw the way he looked at you. The way he smiled at you.”
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, voice dropping into something dangerously intimate. “And here I thought you were trying to mend our relationship. Yet the second I turn my back, you’re chatting and smiling with another man like it means nothing.”
His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against the hard wall of his chest. You could feel the tension coiled in every muscle, the barely restrained frustration rolling off him in waves. One of his fingers slipped just beneath the edge of your gown, brushing bare skin at your hip — a deliberate, claiming touch.
“I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he growled softly, lips brushing your ear. “Especially not with bastards like Toji Fushiguro.”
You swallowed hard, breath shallow. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was just being polite while you were busy.”
Sukuna let out a low, dangerous sound in the back of his throat — half a scoff, half a laugh. His free hand moved to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his burning crimson gaze.
“Polite,” he murmured, thumb stroking slowly along your jawline. “You’re lucky I didn’t drag you out of here the moment I saw his hand move toward you.”
His eyes dropped to your lips for a long, heavy second. The air between you felt charged, electric, like the tension might snap at any moment. For a heartbeat you thought he might kiss you right there — hard, claiming, in full view of everyone still watching from across the hall.
Instead, he leaned in until his lips ghosted against your ear again.
“Next time someone approaches you while I’m gone,” he said, voice dark and velvet-rough, “you tell them you belong to me. Clearly. Because if I have to remind them myself… I won’t be nearly as polite.”
His fingers flexed on your hip in one final, possessive squeeze — a silent promise — before he slowly stepped back. His hand remained at the small of your back, heavy and unrelenting.
The music swelled again around you.
Sukuna’s expression smoothed into something cooler and more composed for the public eye, but the heat in his eyes stayed locked on you.
“Come,” he said, voice still low. “We’re dancing again. And this time, you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night.”
Sukuna led you back onto the dance floor without another word, his hand firm on your waist, pulling you closer than strictly proper for a public setting. The orchestra had shifted into a slower, more intimate melody — strings and soft piano weaving through the air. Couples swirled around you, but you barely noticed them. All you could focus on was the heat of Sukuna’s body pressed against yours, the way his fingers splayed possessively across your lower back, and the unmistakable tension radiating from him.
He moved with controlled grace, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his thigh occasionally brushing yours as you turned. Every point of contact felt electric.
“You’re quiet now,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. “What happened to all that polite conversation you were having with the marquess?”
You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You told me not to leave your side. I’m listening.”
A low sound rumbled in his chest — not quite a laugh. His hand slid lower on your back, fingers pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.
“Good girl,” he said softly, almost mockingly, though the heat in his eyes was anything but. “Keep listening. I don’t want to see you smiling at anyone else like that tonight.”
The jealousy was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You could feel it in the way he held you — tighter than necessary, almost like he was daring anyone to try approaching you again.
As you turned under his arm and came back into his embrace, he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“He thought he had a chance,” he continued, voice rough. “Like he didn’t know exactly who you belong to.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “Maybe I need to make it clearer.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. Being this close to him — surrounded by the swirl of music and watching eyes — made everything feel heightened. The scent of him, the solid strength of his body, the barely restrained possessiveness in every touch.
“Sukuna…” you started softly.
He cut you off by pulling you even closer, until there was almost no space left between you. His breath was warm against your temple.
“You wanted to mend things,” he reminded you, tone dark. “Then stop giving other men reasons to think they can talk to my wife like that. Smile at me. Stay close to me.”
The song began to slow, but Sukuna didn’t release you. He kept you locked in his arms even as other couples started drifting apart. His hand slid up your back, fingers tracing your spine through the silk, a silent claim in front of the entire hall.
When the music finally faded, he didn’t let go right away. He stared down at you, crimson eyes heavy with something dangerous and hungry.
“We’re leaving,” he said abruptly, voice low. “I’ve had enough of these people watching us.”
He didn’t wait for your agreement. His hand stayed firmly at the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Nobles parted for him instinctively, eyes wide at the sight of the Duke and Duchess leaving together so early — and so obviously entangled.
The cool night air hit you the moment you stepped outside. Sukuna kept you close as you waited for the carriage, his arm wrapped around your waist like he still wasn’t ready to stop touching you.
Once inside the carriage, he sat beside you instead of across from you. The door had barely closed before his hand was back on your thigh, gripping possessively through the fabric of your gown.
The carriage started moving, carrying you both back toward the estate through the dark roads. Sukuna’s hand remained on your thigh the entire ride, heavy and warm — a silent reminder of exactly who you belonged to.
By the time it finally rolled to a stop in front of the castle, the moon hung high in the sky. The journey had been quiet, thick with lingering tension. Sukuna hadn’t spoken a word, but his grip on your thigh never loosened.
When the footman opened the door, Sukuna stepped out first and offered you his hand. You took it, letting him help you down onto the stone steps. The cool night air felt refreshing after the stuffy ballroom, but it did little to calm the nerves fluttering in your stomach.
He walked you inside, his hand resting possessively at the small of your back the whole way through the dimly lit halls. Servants bowed and quickly disappeared when they saw you both. The castle felt unusually still.
When you reached the point where the corridors split — one leading to his private wing, the other to yours — Sukuna stopped. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable in the low torchlight.
“You did well tonight,” he admitted grudgingly, staring at you for a long moment before glancing away. “But if I see him — or anyone else — near you again like that…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
Sukuna gave a short nod, almost like he was dismissing you. “Goodnight.”
He turned to leave, heading toward his own chambers.
You stood there for a second, heart pounding, before the words slipped out — soft, shy, and a little nervous.
“Wait…”
Sukuna paused, looking back at you over his shoulder.
You swallowed, cheeks warming as you forced yourself to speak. “You know… we can’t really fix things as a couple if we keep sleeping separately"
The words hung in the air between you. They sounded bolder than you felt.
Sukuna went completely still. For several long seconds he simply stared at you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but something darker, more dangerous.
“Is that so?” he said, voice low and rough. He took one step back toward you, then another, until he was standing close again. “You’re asking to sleep in my bed now?”
He tilted his head, studying your face like he was trying to find the trick in your words. His hand came up, fingers lightly brushing your jaw as he looked down at you.
“Careful, wife,” he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You keep pushing like this… I might start thinking you actually mean it.”
His gaze dropped to your mouth for a long second before returning to your eyes. The tension between you crackled again, even stronger than it had been at the ball.
Sukuna didn’t move away. He waited, watching you closely, as if daring you to take it back… or push further.
The silence stretched, heavy and charged. His thumb was still resting against your lower lip, warm and rough, while his crimson eyes searched your face for any sign of deception. You could practically feel the suspicion rolling off him in waves.
Finally, he let out a slow breath, almost a scoff.
“…Fine,” he said, voice low and guarded. “If that’s what you want.”
He stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed on your waist, fingers still gripping you with quiet possessiveness. His expression remained cold, cautious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Don’t expect this to mean anything,” he added, tone flat. “I’m still not convinced you’ve changed. But if you’re so determined to play the part of a real wife… then come.”
He turned and started walking down the corridor toward his private wing, keeping his hand on the small of your back to guide you along with him. The touch was firm — not gentle, but not forceful either. It felt like both an invitation and a test.
The halls were quiet at this hour, lit only by flickering torches. Every step echoed softly. Sukuna didn’t speak again until you reached the heavy wooden doors to his chambers. He pushed them open without hesitation and stepped inside, holding the door for you.
His rooms were large and unmistakably his — dark wood furniture, a massive bed with black silk sheets, a low fire burning in the hearth, weapons and scrolls neatly arranged on shelves. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather.
Sukuna closed the door behind you with a heavy click. He leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with that same calculating stare.
“You wanted this,” he said quietly, almost like he was reminding both of you. “So here we are.”
He pushed off the door and walked further into the room, loosening the ties on his formal tunic as he went. The movement was casual, but you could feel the tension still radiating from him.
“Get comfortable,” he told you, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, almost seductive, but the suspicion never fully left his eyes.
He didn’t say anything else. He simply waited, watching to see what you would do now that you were truly alone with him in his space.
You stood there for a moment, suddenly very aware of how large his chambers felt and how small you felt inside them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the dark wood and black silk sheets. The air smelled like him — smoke, leather, and something faintly metallic.
You swallowed and moved toward the side of the room where a large wardrobe stood. One of the maids had already brought a few of your things here earlier, as if the servants had anticipated this. You picked out a simple black silk nightgown and hesitated.
Sukuna had turned away slightly, pulling off his formal tunic and tossing it over the back of a chair. The movement revealed the strong lines of his back and the black tattoos swirling across his skin. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was still aware of every move you made.
You changed quickly behind the privacy screen in the corner, the silk cool against your skin. When you stepped out, Sukuna was already sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing only loose black pants. His pink hair was untied now, falling messily around his face. He looked up when you approached.
For a long second he just stared.
Then he let out a slow breath and patted the space beside him.
“Come here,” he said, voice low.
You walked over and climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight. Sukuna watched you the entire time, suspicion still clear in his crimson eyes even as he pulled the covers back for you.
You slipped under the sheets, lying on your back. The silk felt cool and smooth. Sukuna stayed sitting for another moment, then finally lay down beside you. The bed was large, but he took up so much space that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He turned onto his side, facing you. One arm rested above his head while the other lay between you, close enough that his fingers almost brushed your arm.
The silence was heavy.
“You’re really here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze traced your face, still guarded. “In my bed.”
He reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained cold and watchful.
“Don’t make me regret this,” he said quietly. “If this is another game… I won’t be kind about it.”
Then he shifted closer. Not enough to touch fully, but close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. He didn’t pull you into his arms. He simply laid there, watching you like he was waiting for you to prove something — or reveal your true intentions.
The fire crackled softly in the background. The weight of his presence beside you made it hard to relax, but you stayed there, heart beating steadily.
Sukuna’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again.
“Sleep, wife. We’ll see how long this little performance of yours lasts.”
He didn’t close his eyes right away. He kept watching you in the dim firelight, guarded, suspicious… and just a little intrigued.
Morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, pale and hazy, casting long golden stripes across the dark wooden floor. You woke slowly, cocooned in warmth that felt both foreign and strangely comforting. Sukuna’s arm was draped heavily over your waist, his broad chest pressed against your back, one leg loosely tangled with yours beneath the black silk sheets. His breathing was deep and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against you with every inhale.
For a long moment you didn’t move. This was the first time you’d ever woken up beside him — sharing the same bed, the same space, the same air. Your heart beat a little too fast as the reality settled in. The Duke of the North was holding you in his sleep, even if it was only out of habit or unconscious possession.
Sukuna stirred a few minutes later. His arm tightened around your waist for a brief second, pulling you closer on instinct, before his body went still. You felt the exact moment consciousness returned to him — the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly against your back.
He didn’t pull away immediately.
“You’re still here,” he said quietly, voice low and rough with sleep. There was a hint of genuine surprise beneath the words. “Figured you’d sneak back to your own room before I woke up.”
You turned your head slightly on the pillow to look at him. His crimson eyes were half-lidded, messy pink hair falling across his forehead. Up close like this, without the usual cold mask, he looked almost human — though the sharp suspicion in his gaze reminded you he was anything but.
“I told you I wanted this,” you replied softly.
Sukuna let out a slow breath, almost a huff. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you properly. His hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing slow, absentminded circles over the silk of your nightgown. The touch was light, but you could feel the weight of his attention — guarded, calculating, searching for any crack in your resolve.
He watched you for a long, heavy moment, suspicion still clear in his expression. The silence between you felt intimate and fragile at the same time. His fingers flexed once against your waist before relaxing again.
“Don’t get too used to this,” he said eventually, tone flat but not cruel. “One night doesn’t fix anything. One night doesn’t make me trust you.”
Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he added more quietly, “But… you can stay for breakfast if you want.”
Sukuna rolled away and got out of bed, stretching his powerful arms above his head. The morning light traced every line of muscle and the intricate black tattoos that covered his shoulders, chest, and back. He moved with the casual confidence of someone completely at ease in his own space, yet you could still feel the tension humming beneath his skin.
God, he’s even hotter in person… no wonder I was obsessed.
He grabbed a fresh tunic but didn’t put it on. Instead, he leaned against the wardrobe, watching you in his sheets with that dark, cautious gaze. The fire had burned low, leaving the room quiet and heavy with unspoken tension.
Sukuna tilted his head slightly. “Well?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep. “Are you going to lie there all morning?”
You didn’t make him wait long.
You slipped out of bed, the black silk nightgown clinging lightly to your skin as you moved. The morning air in the chamber felt cooler than the warmth of the sheets you’d just left. Sukuna watched you the entire time from where he leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his broad chest, expression unreadable but intense.
“Breakfast will be brought here,” he said simply, voice still rough from sleep. “No need to go to the main hall today.”
A short while later, servants arrived with silver trays. They moved quickly and quietly, setting the table near the tall windows with practiced care — a pot of strong black tea, warm crusty bread, thick slices of roasted meat, fresh berries, and a small dish of honey. The scent of the food filled the room, warm and savory. They kept their eyes lowered, clearly unsettled by the sight of you in the Duke’s private chambers wearing only a nightgown and robe, but they left without a single word.
Sukuna sat down first. You took the seat across from him.
The morning light streamed in through the tall windows, casting a soft golden glow across the table and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It traced the black tattoos visible at the open collar of his tunic and the faint scars on his hands as he picked up his knife. For several long minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of silverware and the distant crackle from the hearth.
Finally, Sukuna set his knife down with a quiet click and leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes locking onto you with that familiar guarded intensity.
“So,” he said, voice low and guarded, “what made you change?”
You looked up from your plate, heart skipping a beat. Just died and woke up in the body of the woman you’re supposed to kill. No big deal.
There was no point in holding back anymore.
“I like you,” you said simply, meeting his gaze. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”
Sukuna stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he let out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Bullshit.”
The word landed blunt and cold. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, watching you with sharp suspicion.
“You expect me to believe that? After months of silence, after treating me like I was beneath you, after making sure everyone knew how much you despised this marriage… you suddenly like me?” His voice dripped with disbelief. “Try again.”
You didn’t look away. Your voice stayed quiet but steady.
“No, really,” you said. “I do. I like you. That’s why I’m trying so hard.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for the lie, the manipulation, the trick. The silence stretched between you, thick and tense. His fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before he leaned back again, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, dangerous smirk.
“Okay, little liar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Then prove it to me.”
You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Prove it to you…?” you repeated softly, the words coming out a little breathless.
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table, closing some of the distance between you.
“Yes,” he said, voice dropping lower, almost velvet-smooth. “Prove it. You say you like me. You say you want to fix this marriage. So show me.”
His gaze drifted slowly down to your mouth, then back up to your eyes. The air between you felt heavier now, warmer. He reached across the table and brushed his fingers lightly against the back of your hand, the touch deceptively gentle.
“You’re in my chambers. In my bed,” he continued, thumb tracing a slow line over your knuckles. “If you’re actually serious… then stop hiding behind pretty words and prove it.”
His touch lingered, possessive but controlled, sending a slow shiver up your arm. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched your reaction closely, crimson eyes dark with suspicion and something much hotter underneath.
“Prove it, wife,” he said again, voice low and seductive. “I’m right here. Show me how much you like me.”
The breakfast table suddenly felt far too small. The tension had shifted — still laced with his suspicion, but now crackling with slow, deliberate heat as he waited for you to make the next move.
Your pulse thundered under his thumb. You could feel the weight of his stare, the way his crimson eyes darkened as they traced your face, your lips, the line of your throat. He wasn’t touching you anywhere else, but it still felt like he had you pinned.
You swallowed, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck.
“…How?” you asked, voice quieter than you intended. “How do you want me to prove it?”
Sukuna’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous. He leaned in a little closer across the table, his thumb still stroking lazy circles over your knuckles.
“That’s the fun part,” he murmured. “You figure it out. You’re the one claiming you like me. So show me what that looks like.”
His free hand moved, reaching across to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was almost gentle, but his fingers lingered at the side of your neck, tracing lightly down the column of your throat before pulling away.
“You can start by coming here,” he said, voice low and commanding. He pushed his chair back slightly and patted his thigh once. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Your breath caught. Heart racing, you stood up slowly and rounded the table. The moment you were close enough, Sukuna’s hand caught your wrist and pulled you down onto his lap. He settled you sideways across his thighs, one arm wrapping securely around your waist while the other rested on your leg, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh.
Up close like this, you could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of his chest against your side, the way his breath brushed your temple.
“Better,” he said, voice rough. His hand slid slowly up your thigh, stopping just below the hem of your nightgown. “Now… show me.”
He tilted his head, lips hovering near your jaw.
“Kiss me,” he ordered softly. “Like you mean it. Like you actually want your husband.”
His crimson eyes were locked on yours, still guarded, still waiting for the lie to slip through. But beneath the suspicion, there was clear hunger — dark and patient, daring you to close the distance.
Sukuna’s fingers flexed on your thigh, a silent reminder of his patience running thin.
“Well, wife?” he murmured, voice velvet-rough against your skin. “I’m waiting.”
You didn’t hesitate any longer.
Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started soft — tentative on your end, testing. Sukuna stayed still for half a second, as if surprised you’d actually done it.
Then he took control.
His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you harder against his mouth. The kiss deepened instantly, turning hungry and demanding. His tongue swept past your lips, claiming your mouth with a low growl that vibrated against you. He tasted like black tea and heat, and the way he kissed you was nothing short of possessive — like he was trying to erase every other man who had ever looked at you.
You gasped into his mouth. Sukuna used the opening to tilt your head and kiss you deeper, tongue stroking yours with slow, filthy intent. His other hand gripped your thigh tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you more firmly onto his lap until you were straddling him.
“Better,” he rasped against your lips when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe. His crimson eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. “But not enough.”
He kissed you again, harder this time. One hand slipped under the hem of your nightgown, palm sliding up your bare thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher until his fingers brushed the edge of your underwear. He didn’t go further yet — just teased, stroking the sensitive skin there while his mouth moved to your jaw, then down to your neck.
“You say you like me,” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Then prove how much.”
He sucked on your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you. Sukuna’s grip on your thigh tightened in response, and you felt him growing hard beneath you, the thick length pressing against your core through his pants.
Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. He made a low, approving sound and rocked his hips up once, grinding against you deliberately.
“Touch me,” he ordered, voice rough. “If you’re serious, then fucking touch me.”
You obeyed, sliding your hands under his tunic, palms running over the hard planes of his stomach and the tattoos that covered his skin. His muscles tensed under your touch. Sukuna rewarded you by biting down on your neck again, then soothing the spot with his tongue.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing heavy, eyes burning.
“Keep going,” he said, voice dark and commanding. His hands gripping your ass firmly as he pulled you down harder against his growing erection. “Show me exactly how much you want your husband.”
His hips rolled up deliberately, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your clit in slow, filthy circles. The friction was maddening, heat building fast between you.
You moaned into his mouth. The sound seemed to snap something in him.
He growled low in his throat and rocked you harder against him. “Fuck,” he rasped against your lips, breath hot. “You’re already so wet for me.”
One large hand slipped further under your nightgown, calloused palm dragging up your bare thigh until his fingers found the soaked fabric of your panties. He groaned at the feeling, pressing two thick fingers against your clothed slit and rubbing firmly, spreading your wetness.
“So fucking wet,” he muttered, voice dark and rough. “All this from just sitting on my lap?”
He pushed your panties aside with impatient fingers and dragged two thick digits slowly through your slick folds. The first direct touch made your hips jerk sharply. Pleasure shot through you like lightning — hot, electric, and overwhelming. You were already soaked, embarrassingly wet, and Sukuna could feel it.
He chuckled darkly against your throat, the low vibration sending shivers racing down your spine as he kissed and bit along your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue.
“You’re dripping down my fingers, wife,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “This greedy little cunt is making such a mess already.”
He pushed one thick finger inside you slowly, stretching your tight walls. Your inner muscles clenched hard around the intrusion, hot and silky. The feeling of being filled by him — even just one finger — made your breath hitch. He added a second finger almost immediately, scissoring them lazily while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, relentless circles.
The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the quiet morning room — lewd squelching noises that would have made you blush if you weren’t already trembling with pleasure. Your arousal coated his hand, dripping down his wrist and onto his lap as he worked you open with practiced, unhurried strokes.
You whimpered, hands fisting tightly in the front of his tunic. Sukuna’s free hand yanked the neckline of your nightgown down roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool air. He leaned in and sucked one sensitive nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking roughly over the peak before his teeth grazed it. The sharp sting mixed with pleasure made your back arch, pushing your chest closer to his hungry mouth.
“So fucking sensitive,” he murmured against your skin, voice muffled as he switched to the other nipple, sucking harder. “Look at you. Falling apart just from my fingers like a desperate little whore.”
He curled his fingers inside you, stroking that perfect spot with devastating accuracy while his thumb pressed firmer circles on your clit. Your hips rocked desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier, echoing obscenely in the quiet chamber.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to watch your face, his crimson eyes dark with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “Let me feel how much this supposed ‘liking me’ makes this tight little pussy squeeze around my fingers.”
His fingers curled harder, stroking that sensitive spot relentlessly while his thumb worked your clit faster. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every thrust, every filthy word.
It snapped.
You came hard with a broken moan, walls clenching violently around his thick fingers. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as slick gushed over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, leaving you gasping and trembling.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, still pumping his fingers slowly through your spasms, drawing out every last pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering softly.
He finally pulled his fingers free, glistening with your release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, tongue dragging slowly and deliberately over his skin, savoring your taste.
“Sweet,” he murmured, voice husky and dark. His eyes never left yours.
He lifted you effortlessly and stood, carrying you toward the massive bed. He laid you down on the black silk sheets, hovering over you with that same dark, hungry look.
“Take the nightgown off,” he commanded, already pulling his own tunic over his head, revealing the full expanse of his tattooed, muscled torso. “I want to see all of you.”
His hands moved to his pants, loosening them as he watched you, eyes burning with lust and that ever-present edge of suspicion.
“Prove how much you actually want me, wife.”
You sat up on the bed, heart hammering against your ribs. Under his burning gaze, you reached for the hem of your nightgown and pulled it up and over your head, letting the silk fall to the floor. The cool air of the chamber brushed over your bare skin, making your nipples tighten instantly.
Sukuna’s eyes raked slowly over your naked body — from your flushed face, down the curve of your breasts, your stomach, and the glistening wetness already coating your inner thighs. He let out a low, rough sound deep in his chest, almost a growl.
“Fuck… look at you,” he muttered, voice thick. “So small. So fucking pretty.”
He shoved his pants the rest of the way down his hips and kicked them aside. His cock sprang free, heavy and thick, the veined shaft curving slightly upward. It was meaty — obscenely so — the girth making your mouth go dry. The flushed head was already leaking, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. Even fully hard, it looked almost too big, too heavy, the weight of it making it hang thick and full between his powerful thighs.
You couldn’t help the soft, shaky breath that escaped you.
Sukuna noticed. His smirk was dark and satisfied as he crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping deeply under his much larger frame. He settled between your spread thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider apart. The size difference hit you all over again — he was so much bigger than you, his body completely eclipsing yours as he hovered above you.
He gripped his thick cock in one large hand and dragged the heavy head through your soaked folds, coating himself in your wetness. The blunt, meaty tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch.
“You’re tiny compared to me,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gonna feel every inch when I split you open.”
He pushed forward slowly.
The thick head of his cock breached you, stretching your entrance with a slow, burning pressure. You gasped sharply at the sheer girth — he was so thick that your walls had to part around him, fluttering and clenching as he sank deeper. The heavy, meaty weight of his cock filled you inch by inch, dragging against every sensitive ridge inside you until you were full, so full, your back arching off the bed with a broken moan.
Sukuna groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. His balls rested heavy and warm against you.
“Shit,” he breathed against your neck, voice strained. “So fucking tight… this little pussy is sucking me in like it was made for me.”
He stayed buried deep for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch, the way his thick cock throbbed inside you, hot and heavy. Then he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his meaty length along your walls with every thrust. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked cunt filled the room, slick and filthy.
You whimpered, nails digging into his broad shoulders. “Sukuna… you’re so big—”
He growled at your words, hips snapping harder, driving his thick cock deeper. The drag was exquisite, every vein and ridge rubbing against your most sensitive spots. His size made you feel impossibly full, stretched wide around his girth, the pressure bordering on too much but so, so good.
“Take it,” he rasped, voice dark and possessive. “Take every fucking inch like the good little wife you’re trying to be.”
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy, hungry kiss, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his deep thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against you with every powerful stroke, the wet sounds growing louder as your arousal dripped down his shaft and soaked the sheets beneath you.
You moaned into his mouth, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, heels digging into his back. The size difference made everything more intense — his broad chest crushing your breasts, his muscular thighs spreading you wide, his massive frame completely dominating yours as he fucked you into the mattress.
Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard, eyes dark with lust and that lingering edge of suspicion.
“Tell me again,” he growled, hips grinding deep, the thick head of his cock pressing against that perfect spot inside you. “Tell me how much you like your husband’s cock while I’m ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could barely think through the overwhelming fullness. His cock was so thick it felt like he was splitting you open with every slow, deliberate thrust. The heavy drag of his veined shaft against your walls made your toes curl, pleasure bordering on too much.
“I like it,” you gasped, voice breaking on a moan as he rolled his hips again, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. “I like your cock so much— fuck, Sukuna, you’re so deep…”
A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, spreading you wider, and drove into you harder. The new angle made his thick cock hit even deeper, the heavy weight of his balls slapping wetly against your ass with every powerful thrust. Your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you, the lewd squelching sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This greedy little cunt is sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, dominating kiss. His tongue fucked into your mouth in time with his cock, deep and filthy, while his hips snapped forward harder. The sheer size difference made everything more intense — his broad, muscled body completely covering yours, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked you with long, punishing strokes.
You whimpered into his mouth, nails raking down his back, leaving red lines across his tattooed skin. Sukuna hissed at the sting and rewarded you by pounding into you even harder, the thick head of his cock bullying that sensitive spot inside you over and over.
“Again,” he demanded against your lips, breath hot and ragged. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” you moaned, legs shaking as another wave of pleasure crashed through you. “It belongs to you— only you—”
“Good girl.”
He sat back on his heels, pulling your hips up with him so your lower back was off the bed. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his thick cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing tight, firm circles while he fucked you senseless.
The wet slap of skin against skin mixed with your broken moans and his low grunts. Your breasts bounced with every powerful snap of his hips, nipples tight and aching. Sukuna’s gaze was locked between your legs, watching hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked pussy again and again, stretching you obscenely around his girth.
“Look at that,” he growled, voice dark. “Taking every inch like you were made for me. So fucking pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, burning hotter with every deep thrust, every swipe of his thumb on your clit. Your thighs trembled violently in his grip.
“Sukuna— I’m gonna—!”
“Cum,” he ordered, hips slamming into you harder. “Cum on your husband’s cock like the desperate little wife you are.”
It hit you like a wave. You came hard with a broken cry, walls clenching violently around his thick length, pulsing and fluttering as slick gushed around him. Your whole body shook, back arching sharply as pleasure tore through you.
Sukuna groaned deeply at the feeling, hips stuttering. “Fuck— that’s it. Milk my cock.”
He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you were whimpering and oversensitive. Then, with a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of hot cum flooding deep inside you. He kept grinding his hips in slow circles, pushing his release even deeper as he emptied himself completely.
“We’re not done,” he said quietly, a dangerous promise in his tone. “Not even close.”
Sukuna pulled out of you with a wet, filthy sound, your combined release dripping down your thighs. Before you could catch your breath, he flipped you onto your back and manhandled you like you weighed nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulled you into his lap facing away from him, and hooked his powerful arms under your knees, folding you in a full nelson.
Your back pressed flush against his broad, tattooed chest. Your legs were spread obscenely wide, knees pushed up toward your shoulders by his strong arms. The position left you completely helpless — folded in half, pussy exposed and dripping, his thick cock sliding hot and heavy between your slick folds.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growled right against your ear, voice feral. “So small and folded up for me. Perfect little fucktoy.”
He thrust up hard, burying his massive cock back inside you in one brutal stroke. The new angle made him feel even thicker, even deeper. You cried out, the sound raw and broken as his meaty length stretched you wide open again, the fat head bullying against your cervix with every thrust.
Sukuna went feral.
He fucked you like an animal — hard, fast, and relentless. His hips snapped up with powerful force, slamming his thick cock into your soaked pussy over and over. The wet, obscene slap of skin against skin filled the room, mixed with the lewd squelching of your dripping cunt taking every inch. His heavy balls slapped against your ass with every brutal thrust, the impact jolting through your body.
You were cockdrunk almost immediately.
Your mind went hazy, eyes rolling back as pleasure overloaded your senses. All you could do was moan helplessly, body limp in his hold as he used you. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, the sheer girth stretching you so wide it bordered on pain, but the pleasure was so intense you couldn’t think straight.
“S-Sukuna— ahh— too deep—” you slurred, voice broken and whiny.
He only fucked you harder, arms locked tight under your knees, keeping you folded and helpless as he pounded into you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his hot breath panting against your ear.
“Take it,” he snarled, voice feral and animalistic. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? My cock ruining this tight little pussy.”
You could only moan incoherently, head lolling back against his shoulder. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth as he fucked you senseless, his thick cock bullying your insides with every savage thrust. The wet sounds were filthy — your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his balls, soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna suddenly pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach, and yanked your hips up so your ass was high in the air. He slammed back into you in one brutal thrust, fucking you in deep, punishing doggy style.
“Fuck— yes,” he groaned, voice wrecked. One large hand came down hard on your ass with a loud smack, the sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, the sharp crack echoing as he pounded into you from behind.
Your face was pressed into the sheets, ass up, completely at his mercy as he railed you. His thick cock drove so deep you felt it in your stomach, the heavy drag of his veined shaft making your eyes roll back. He smacked your ass again, gripping the soft flesh hard as he used you.
“You’re mine,” he growled, hips snapping forward relentlessly. “This pussy is mine. Say it.”
You could barely speak, mind blank and cockdrunk, but you whimpered obediently between moans, “Yours… it’s yours—”
Sukuna snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the bed creaking violently under the force of his thrusts. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with every brutal stroke, pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.
He was relentless now — grunting low and animalistic, cursing under his breath as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He claimed you with deep, punishing strokes, each one driving his thick cock so deep you felt it in your stomach.
“Fuck— this pussy is sucking me in so greedily,” he growled, voice wrecked and animalistic. One hand left your hip and came down hard on your ass again with a loud smack, the sharp sting blooming hot across your skin. He did it again, harder, gripping the soft, reddened flesh and spreading you wider as he railed you.
Your mind was completely melted. All you could do was moan and whimper into the sheets, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth as he pounded into you. His thick, meaty cock stretched you so wide it felt like he was reshaping you from the inside. Every deep, punishing thrust made the fat head kiss your cervix, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure-pain shooting through your body.
“S-Sukuna— too much— ahh—!” you slurred, voice broken and whiny, barely coherent anymore.
He laughed darkly, low and breathless, and smacked your ass once more before gripping both cheeks and spreading you obscenely. He watched hungrily as his thick cock disappeared into your soaked, fluttering pussy again and again, your juices coating his shaft and dripping down his heavy balls.
“Look at this greedy little hole,” he rasped, hips snapping forward brutally. “Taking my fat cock so well. You’re dripping everywhere, wife. Making such a fucking mess on my sheets.”
He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place while the other braced beside your head. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy cock bullying that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust. The wet, filthy plap plap plap of his hips slamming into your ass filled the room, mixed with your broken moans and his guttural grunts.
You were shaking, thighs trembling violently, another orgasm building fast. Your mind was blank — nothing but the overwhelming stretch, the heat, the relentless drag of his thick veined cock inside you.
Sukuna’s breath was hot against your ear. “You’re mine,” he growled, teeth grazing your shoulder. “This tight little cunt is mine. Say it while you cum on my cock again.”
You could barely form words, but you whimpered obediently between moans, voice slurred and cockdrunk. “Yours— it’s yours— Sukuna— please—!”
He fucked you harder, hips pistoning relentlessly, the heavy slap of his balls against your clit pushing you over the edge. You came with a shattered cry, walls clamping down around his thick length like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as another intense orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his cock, soaking his thighs and the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna groaned loudly, the sound raw and feral. “Good fucking girl—”
He didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm with deep, stuttering thrusts, hips snapping erratically as he chased his own release. With a final, powerful drive, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you, pulse after heavy pulse filling you until you felt impossibly full, the warmth spreading through your core. He kept grinding slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles to push every drop deeper, making sure you took all of him.
You could feel it leaking out around his thick cock — warm, sticky, and messy — dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you.
Sukuna stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, his massive body pressing you firmly into the mattress. His chest heaved against your back, hot, ragged breaths fanning across the side of your neck. The scent of sweat, sex, and his skin filled the air with every shaky inhale. One of his hands stroked slowly up and down your side, almost possessively, while the other stayed gripping your hip, fingers digging in like he still wasn’t ready to let go.
“…Not bad,” he muttered, voice hoarse and low against your ear. “For a little liar.”
He finally pulled out slowly, inch by thick inch. A heavy trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your abused, fluttering pussy, warm and obscene as it ran down your inner thighs. Sukuna let out a low, satisfied hum at the sight before he rolled you onto your back and collapsed beside you.
Without a word, he pulled you against his chest, one strong arm wrapping around you possessively. His skin was hot and slightly damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing steadily under your cheek as he held you close.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he caught his breath.
But he didn’t let go.
a\n: honestly didn't know how to end this but hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs appreciated!!
Synopsis. “To the esteemed and venerable House of Gojo,
Hereby is your formal invitation to the Choosing Ceremony; our proudly ancestral tradition in which an eligible candidate is put forth by every clan in high society—and out of them all, only one shall be chosen as future husband to our Madam.
And for that, the Madam has specifically requested the presence of Gojo Satoru. Specifically.
It does not matter to her that your candidate has no cursed energy so to speak of, and it would be our greatest honor to start bridging stronger relations between our two dignified clans.
We hope for your good health, and a reply from Gojo himself soon.”
Or in which if Gojo Satoru hasn’t manifested his powers yet, you know a way to make him…snap.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, heir!Gojo Satoru, no powers AU, for now…, Gojo with no cursed energy, the eIders are awful, arranged marriages, Choosing Ceremony, suitors, outcast Gojo, your technique, tension, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Gojo, GOJO’S POWERS, making him SNAP, vibrations, Six Eyes to find your spots, fíngering, spítting, p talking, p sIapping, cIit bitíng, FÉRAL Gojo, matíng presses, manhandIing, Infinity as a cóndom, shattering, making you count, DESPERATE Gojo, needy s, he’s a Iittle crazed, creampíes, cúmpIay, marathons, overstím, cúmming bIanks, making him CRY, UNLlMITED VOID, teIeportation, sIight vioIence at end (NOT to or from reader), the eIders, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.9k
A/N. Oh Gege how can I ever thank you ENOUGH for these powers-
Gojo Satoru was born without cursed energy.
December 7th. Twenty-eight years ago. He had been a strangely quiet baby- to the extent that it’d scared the midwives, and they’d fussed-over and checked him from every angle before ultimately realizing that that was just the way…he is. But strange was good.
Strange meant powerful.
And thus came the higher-ups that breathed down the poor infant’s neck. They were the first to see when he’d cracked his eyes open, twenty-eight years ago; and gave those peering higher-ups a glimpse of those cloud-flecked summer skies he held within—they thought he’d been destined for greatness. Those eyes of his…they just seemed to glow.
Six Eyes. So it had touched this generation of Gojos too, right? Right?
But there was only one problem: they couldn’t feel a single lick of cursed energy emanating from the boy.
Gojo Satoru was born without powers.
An outlier. An anomaly. A disgrace.
Which is why, twenty-eight years later, he’d been surprised when the marriage proposal came.
“Throw it out, Ijichi.” Gojo snarled, tapping his long tobacco stick against the low table. The kiseru was made of polished bamboo, its sleek body donning the silver emblem of the Gojo clan—it had been scratched out. It gleamed like a blade.
The heir to the Gojo clan - at least in name - had his back turned to his audience. Soft morning sunlight filtered through silk curtains and illuminated his strong figure, draped in Gojo-blue. It was almost against everyone’s will, including his own, that he had grown tall. Broad. Traditional woodblock prints. Sandalwood incense from the local temple. Books upon books of high literature surrounding him. He’d read them over hundreds of times.
Seated upon a plush blue zabuton cushion with silver threading; he was surrounded by opulence and even more loneliness. Most days, Gojo sipped his time away with that damn bamboo stick and his books—training and convening with others had long been banned since it became obvious that the heir had no talent in cursed energy. Which wasn’t supposed to be- he was supposed to be The Strongest. He was supposed to be…something else. Someone else. So they hid him away.
They forgot about him.
Out of sight, out of mind. Right?
Except for Ijichi Kiyotaka, the one resident at the Gojo Estate that knew the enigmatic Gojo son beyond just whispers and the occasional flash of white hair ‘round hallway corners. Disappearing quicker than one catches it.
The envelope crumples in Ijichi’s hands as he speaks, “But master-”
“Do not call me that.” His voice isn’t too loud. And yet, it cuts through the attendant’s voice with its simple simper—“What have I told you, Ijichi?”
“M-my apologies…Gojo-san.”
Gojo had his head semi-turned over his shoulder. And from that brief profile, Ijichi sees that even that title manages to make the other man’s lip curl—though he doesn’t say anything more. He merely turns back to his tobacco as the bespectacled man starts to blubber once more.
“I-I just meant to say…” Tone wavering. Tone beseeching. He’s shuffling forward on both knees with the envelope held out, “-that this might be something of interest, ma- Gojo-san.”
“What? A marriage proposal?” Gojo scorns after a deep exhale. The tobacco at the end of his pipe still remains inflamed when he sets it down on the table, and finally turns properly towards his attendant. His only. Gojo isn’t so presumptuous as to call him his only friend- but sometimes he can’t help but feel that way. Steely blue eyes narrow. “Does it look like I have the patience to entertain what is so-obviously a joke, Ijichi?”
“But—” Ijichi can’t help but stir. “You’ve been leaving this proposal without reply for four days, Gojo-san. And it seems that in that time, they’ve contacted the Estate five times just to make sure it was delivered.”
He raises a ghost-pale brow, “Then it seems they don’t know I’m without cursed energy.”
Ijichi squirms uncomfortably. He pushes his glasses up, “I-it seems that in that time, the council of elders had taken…liberties to inform them of this circumstance.”
Gojo takes his tobacco and taps it impatiently on the table. “And?” He runs a hand through his hair—what else could he have expected from them? Fucking bastards.
To his surprise, Ijichi ducks his head down ever-so-slightly. And though the Gojo heir might not have those special eyes that deemed him as part of the family - he could still see that the other man seemed to be hiding a faint smile. “And…it seems they were still interested, Gojo-san.”
There’s a pause.
Gojo takes another deep inhale.
“Is that so…?” His words were low and lazy—but Ijichi could see right through them. He could discern that faint furrow between his master’s brows as he mulled over the thought, let it twist and turn and take over his mind. Everyone he knew didn’t spare him a second glance at him once they found out about his predicament.
They would fawn over him and his blue eyes during those stuffy social functions he was dragged to as a child - back when the elders still seemed to think he had a chance of his cursed energy showing up as he grew - and then ‘discreetly’ be pulled aside by some attendant or the other to be…told. ‘Normal eyes’ was what he commonly heard. Then they’d avert their eyes from him all night.
It took him some years before he understood why, and then he’d started refusing to join these functions. After that, they stopped asking.
Visitors from far-off lands would bring him gifts and candies whenever they visited the Estate on official business; and he’d stand outside the meeting hall as they requested to see the ‘little one’. Only to be told by his very parents that there was nothing to see - he had no cursed energy. There was nothing impressive about him.
He never saw a single one of those candies.
The dojos of the Gojo Estate would be in an uproar morning after morning; and once - just once as a child - he had asked to join. The head instructor had shared a pitying gaze with his top student, and Gojo had sprinted out of the place before they could utter a single word. They can keep their pity—he didn’t need a single one of them.
He didn’t need anyone.
Not the tutors, nor the attendants, nor the kids of those higher-ups that all looked at him with pity in their eyes- that’s part of why he latched onto Ijichi and made him his only attendant.
He never did so.
That, and Gojo liked his glasses.
Wherever news of Gojo’s lack of power spread, it became infected like a disease.
Which is why he couldn’t understand you.
“Gojo-san?” Ijichi’s tentative voice breaks through his torrent of thoughts, and Gojo’s still slightly dazed as he looks up at the other man - how long had he been silent? Shaking off whatever had come over him - it’s not quite like him to reminisce - he stands and walks to one of the open doors—facing a private section of the Gojo gardens. Butterflies flicked from flower to flower, and trees swayed serendipitously in the winds. He watches one of those multi-colored wings flap to foxglove and then off into the sky. Watching such a sight, he couldn’t help but feel so small.
The Gojo Estate was beautiful, but deadly.
And so were those with its name.
“Write them a response apologizing for taking so long.” Gojo keeps staring out at the summer day as he speaks, and the other man jolts to attention. “And tell them…” He wasn’t sure who he was waiting for: Ijichi who was noting this down, or himself. He swallows and clasps his hands behind his back—“Tell them that I accept.”
He has always hated feeling small.
“Let’s see how they truly like The Strongest.”
.
.
.
The elders were prepping and poking at him like some dessert the next evening.
News of his acceptance had spread like wildfire.
And before he knew it, they were rubbing his skin red and raw - until milk-water seeped into his every pore. Dousing him in clouds of perfume. Painting his plump lips just the faintest cherry-red—just enough to be enticing, or so they said. Smoothing down the invisible creases on his expensive cotton hakama; threaded cranes and reeds took flight from their hem, the silver emblem of the Gojo clam burned deeply into his back. He couldn’t find much of a difference between this and a dog collar. Play nice. Don’t bite.
Do tricks for the pretty lady.
Or so he assumed he would have to.
At some point, he wondered whether they were oh-so-fervently preparing him in the hopes of getting rid of him. And his hypothesis was only exacerbated when those elders caught each others’ eyes and smiled as they were bidding him farewell. “Make our family proud.” His father had told him.
Farewell. Farewell.
The towering, palace-like gates of the Gojo Estate grew smaller behind him, and he determined that even if he wasn’t getting picked - he was never coming back.
And so he was here.
Gojo was escaping one Estate and being led straight into another; grander, more gilded. The prestige radiated off of it in waves and made his stomach turn to knots as he was led inside - Ijichi by his side - past winding hallways and antiques displayed, then singled out and told to sit in the meeting chamber amongst a row of handsome men. Ijichi nods reassuringly at him and steps outside.
Gojo’s sighing greatly before sitting at the very end of the row - attempting to twist his legs into the poised positions that the others were taking on top of the tatami. There were about twenty of them; backs straight, legs tucked, proudly dressed in robes with their family names. They stood out in their multi-color robes and reminded Gojo of old-fashioned puppets. And even among these handsome men they were attempting to out-handsome one another.
It was almost pathetic- really.
As they wait for you to arrive, your suitors would jut their heads out and take a good look at the competition—then if they assess that one seemed to be giving them too much of a run for their money, they’re primping their hair n’ polishing off their jewels. The Gojo Estate had given him none - probably didn’t trust him with them.
He feels a laugh bubbling up in his throat as, one by one, they snuck glances at him and sat just a little taller. And yet, they couldn’t meet his height.
That didn’t matter, however.
In this society, all that mattered were one’s powers - and should one not have strong powers, then it’s the connections. Gojo had none.
Ah, to get this over with…
Soon, footsteps resound and the sliding doors rattle. Gojo gets the urge to look up as they open, but he’s tampering down the temptation and keeping his eyes fixated on the ground as he always does. It came as second nature to him. Next to him, he feels the other candidates stiffen and do the same.
“The Madam enters.” Wheezes out a male voice, old and reverent.
There’s another step as someone - presumably you - steps inside the meeting hall, and then they’re all placing their hands in front of them and bowing. Bending in unison at the waist. It wasn’t common to bow to someone he knew was just a year or two younger—but you were already the Madam of your clan, and they were mere heirs after all.
Him, not even that.
“At ease, please.” Your sweet, sweet voice echoes out and sends goosebumps skittering across his skin. Gojo’s not sure what he expected - but this…”Thank you for coming. Your presence shall be rewarded plentifully.”
“We’re grateful, Madam.”
“W-we’re grateful, Madam…” Gojo follows up belatedly. His pulse quickens. His thighs squeeze. He feels stares hone in on him at that exact moment, and he’s sure that one of them was yours.
Gojo attempts to press himself down on the tatami even deeper- to fold himself in half and make himself invisible. His eyes widen and the smooth woven surface stares up at him. His palms sweat where they were clenched. It’s not that he cared about what anyone here would think of him - but if he were to get out of here and escape, then drawing any attention to himself doesn’t help.
His heartbeat thunders in his chest—ba-dump!
But you don’t single him out. And Gojo’s unsure whether or not to breathe out a sigh of relief once he hears what seems to be a soft chuckle coming from your direction—he can’t risk it twice.
And after a beat, Gojo hears your footsteps start to make their way down from the other end of the row. Step after step. Stare after stare. Second after second, he assumes you’re taking your time assessing each candidate before moving onto the next. And behind your nearly-soundless steps were your gaggle of elders- “This is a descendent of the Kamo clan—” They’re not quite whispering to you, “Very powerful. Very respectable family.”
“I see.” You say, and you’re walking past the Kamo descendent.
“O-oh and this one…the Fujiwara clan. Not the wealthiest but-”
You hold a hand up, “Yes, thank you.”
“Zenin Nao-”
“Not at all.”
Whoever that was - Gojo’s heard of the Zenin clan in bits and pieces through the walls of meeting chambers he wasn’t let into - withers in his bow. Whatever he’s heard of the man hadn’t been favorable in the first place, so he has to bite his lip to hold back a faint chuckle—so caught up in the action that he nearly doesn’t notice the shadow padding over to him. He nearly doesn’t notice that you’ve walked right up to him.
It’s the elders that get his attention before you do.
“Ah- and this is the…” Gojo doesn’t need to strain his ears to hear what they’re saying about him. He’s heard it time and time again: that slight hitch in their tone, the way they bring up a hand to cover their mouths but still look at him. “The heir to the Gojo clan.” Spat like a curse.
“The hair gave it away.” There’s none of that derision in your tone. “How beautiful.”
A shiver runs down Gojo’s spine.
And it’s not long before yet another one of your council members is tugging at your sleeves, “Madam, this is the…”
Another speaks up- “The note that was delivered—”
“That forgotten son.” And another.
“Silence.”
You’re saying it so serenely, and yet it manages to get every single damn one of them to shut up. Every single one of them—that were hungry and clamoring for your attention; frothing at the mouth to reveal his open secret. If only it was so easy for him. The silence stretches terribly, until the tension was so thick that it was hard for him to breathe.
And before he knows it, Gojo’s feeling a soft hand touch his shoulder.
Lightness fills him. Just ephemeral and fleeting.
And your voice speaks out in a much warmer tone, “Please. At ease.”
Something seems to uncoil inside him as he straightens- why he was following your every word, he has no idea. But soon enough, he’s back in his resting position and looking down the row of other candidates that ogled him.
You chuckle kindly once more, “The others have long since been sitting. You may go easier on yourself.” Through his peripheral vision, he senses you crouching down in front of you.
And so he’s finally looking up—
Now, Gojo Satoru could describe your features, or your clothes, or the color of your eyes- or even the degree of your smile. He looks back on this moment - not even in the far future, mere split-seconds later - and thinks he could pinpoint the exact angle that the light flooding into the chamber struck the side of your face. But the only thing he registers right now is that if heaven were real, then this might just be the place. And he’d run straight into its awaiting arms-
Your awaiting arms.
Then as quickly as that flare of madness appeared, he’s shaking his head. Trying to clear his mind - whilst you wear a look of slight bemusement on your face as if you could read his thoughts.
Gojo’s just able to pull himself together and flicker his sapphire eyes open—when you’re standing up and addressing them all. Speaking loud and clear- “I have chosen.”
Cold water douses him- or at least feels like it. And the other candidates in your row of suitors shiver like they were experiencing something similar.
One of the elders shifts his gaze nervously between him and you, “Y-you have chosen, Madam?”
Another one clasps his hands in delight and beams, “As per my recommendation- the Kamo boy, Madam?”
“No no—it should be the Abe boy.”
“The-”
One hand raised to signal silence. You’re running your serious stare down the row of men that sat rigidly awaiting your decree.
Each one blenches a little as it reaches them, as though it sent bolts of electricity through them.
Eventually, they’re stopping on him.
On Gojo Satoru.
And he meets your gaze shyly- with bated breath.
“It’s him.” The calmness before the storm. “I choose him.” Before the chamber seems to explode into the indignant noises of the other candidates, the pleas and coos of elders attempting to stop you from making any rash decisions. The air seems to still. The pipes seem to burst. Outside, it’s evident that some of the house staff had been peering through the cracked-open door and eavesdropping on the ceremony- and their surprised squawks add to the cacophony.
And in the middle of the noise - the center of attention - you and Gojo share a look in silence.
Your hand raises once more.
“Silence. I will not repeat it.” A slight hardening in your tone. It’s there to remind them all that you are the clan leader, after all; amongst the youngest to be handed the mantle, amongst the most successful to make your Estate surge in social and economic standing. “He is to be my husband—” Turning to look at him. “-if he so wishes it.”
And you had chosen him to be your husband.
There’s a terse silence- and everyone turns their heads towards Gojo before he realizes that they were waiting for his answer. Most of the other men glower at him as if to say he was stupid if he messed this up-
“Y-yes.” Nodding unsteadily. It seems like the kind of thing that he’d have to ponder over - but it comes to him as though his mind had already been made up, without him knowing. “Yes.” Yes, he was sure.
“Yes, Madam.” The guy next to him hisses.
One of your head council members all but begs at your feet, “B-but master, he has no cursed energy…”
“Elder, must I repeat myself once more?” It seems like an off-hand question—almost jovial. But clearly the elder knows better than to push, and he’s shrivelling back up once more.
With a wave of your hand, you’re dismissing them. “And so if that is all, the other candidates shall have to forgive me- but I wish to spend some time getting to know my future husband. I hope you understand. Refreshments will be available in the East gardens.” As they start to exchange glances and stand, you turn to your balking elders—“And that goes for you, too, dear elders.”
They stir.
They look at each other- as if for confirmation.
Before one nudges the other - and they can do nothing but walk. Walk away with a mere glance—past the ogling house staff, following the murmuring young men.
Despite how much your attendants try to take a peek at him- the sliding doors shut.
Rattling; those trundling vibrations soak into the walls and reach all the way down to Gojo’s toes. Making them curl as you sit in front of him: close enough that his heart thunders, far enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear it. Though by the look on your face, he almost has his doubts…
“So…” You’re placing your face in your hands and taking a good look at him. “Something tells me you’re not one for small talk?”
“Why have you chosen me?” He jerks his peripherals to meet yours, and stares at you squarely. “They were right- you know—” Gojo gestures at the doors behind you, “I don’t have any cursed energy.”
“I was right.” You mutter to yourself, “And as for why I chose you…hm…”
He almost thinks you won’t answer the question, when you’re cupping your hands in front of you and letting them emanate a soft golden glow. Gojo knows what it is instantly- he’s spent so many years wishing he had the same, after all. Even the tiniest ember of it.
You’re shaping the air in your hands as though molding the radiance; it fractures and bends like sunlight between tree branches. Beautiful. He’s never seen anything more beautiful. As if his thoughts caught your attention, you’re half-smiling up at him. “Do you know what this is?”
“Cursed technique.” He whispers.
You nod, “And can you take a guess what it does?”
“Something to do with darkness and light? Vanquishing darkness?” Gojo cocks his head.
“In a way…” You’re gesturing for him to reach out—and he brings his arm out somewhat tentatively. The moment your fingertips touch his skin, that radiance seeps warmth throughout his body- it floods him with that same light feeling from earlier. “Feel that? It’s your mask being taken off you.” Gojo looks at you in confusion. “My cursed technique reveals people’s true emotions and thoughts- the good and the bad. The honest. I can read them all.”
“And mine…?” He gasps. How wondrous. Those of the Gojo clan were often stuck on bending space and the physics of it all. Your technique just seemed so…human.
You smile, “Something like cursed energy doesn’t matter to me. You were the only one that didn’t want me for my name or status.” Fingers sliding across milky skin - feeling more of him. Reading more of him. His gasp catches in his throat as you continue, “You were angry. And tired…” Brows furrowing. “-and a little scared.”
“I am.” He swallows- throat dry. “I was. But what’s that to you?”
“And then there was something else…” Bolts of lightning seem to explode wherever your fingertips traced, and he’s feeling his pulse heighten. His half-lidded gaze bores into yours—“You were aroused calling me ‘Madam’.”
And then Gojo Satoru just seems to melt-
“I wasn’t-”
“You were.”
“I was-” There was no use hiding it. He’s leaning backwards—even though his hands remained where they were, aching for your touch. Gojo’s words come out in jagged pants, wet and blistering; perspiration starts to formulate on his skin. “I was. And it’s all your fault I had to hide a boner from some damn elders.”
“You were…what?” You tilt your head coyly. Gojo Satoru. From the moment you saw him, you knew you wanted him.
And one wouldn’t need a cursed technique to know how he felt- a rosy blush rises to his cheeks. “I was, Madam.”
Was it getting even hotter inside this damn room? Gojo’s almost subconsciously letting those expensive robes of his flap open, just the barest slivers of pinkish skin.
“How perverted.” You’re tutting. Starting to lean in now, “But that’s alright. Because right now, you’re feeling something else, too.”
Whispering. Octaves higher. He looks like he’s in for a battle- there’s a carnal glint in his eyes that’s hard to mistake. “And that is…?” Challenging.
“You wish to kiss me so badly.”
And so he does.
He does, he does, he does- he’s not sure who’s reaching for whom first. But suddenly your lips are on his and he’s moaning into your mouth—loud and openin’ up in a gasp before you’re capturing his lower lip between your teeth and teasing him just a little.
Nibbling.
The chamber light flickers for just a second- but neither of you notice it as Gojo bucks. Straight off the smooth tatami and reachin’ his carnal hips up into yours. The simple action is enough to make Gojo fist at the fabric of your clothes, white-knucking them until he’s hearing a little riiiiip—!
You’re breaking the kiss with a gasp- and his lips still chase yours ravenously. “Now, now…we aren’t even married yet. Not that I care, but what would the council say?”
“I don’t care.” Gojo pants out hot n’ heavy into your mouth. Before one hand snakes up the back of your neck to guide you into a deep kiss once more- “I don’t fucking care.”
“E—mmpf.” He’s sucking sloppily on your tongue, dragging the tip of your tastebuds between his lips n’ tasting. Like it’s the sweetest damn thing he’s ever tasted. Brows crinkling in frustration whenever you’re attempting to half-heartedly break off and continue speaking- “Eager- oh, are we? Something tells me that someone’s a little…inexperienced, hm?”
And you didn’t need your cursed technique to read him - Gojo blushes straight down to the roots of his ivory hair.
His nose crinkles, “I am. I’ve never touched a woman- anyone before.”
“And that’s perfectly alright.” You’re reassuring him, hands coming up to caress his heaving chest. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We can take it slow-”
“No—” Gojo gasps as though you’d just cussed him out. Hands trembling on your body - fabric bunching, fingers white-knuckling. He’s holding onto you like you were a lifeline. “No no no no- I would rather…if you would like to—”
You’re letting your warm cursed energy out.
“I want to taste your lips.” He admits, wincing at the way it sounds so crude being said out loud. “Your…other lips.”
“Oh.” Your mouth parts. Before a rush of pleasure seeps through you- “Then why don’t I get on my back, hm? I want to see your pretty face.”
He almost feels faintish just hearing the words.
In next to no time; you’ve positioned yourself flatly against the tatami mats—and dragged him right on top of you, of course. Gojo’s body eagerly climbs up your own, the light from above creating a halo-like effect on him, and admires you for a few seconds- kisses your lips once more- before he’s pressing a thorough trail of open-mouthed kisses down your body.
Between your tits. Down the side of your hips.
Gojo’s then moving back and chastely peckin’ up your inner-thighs before he’s reaching that wetness in-between. The heat of your cunt just radiates between your legs- you were already so drenched n’ pulsing.
That tick-tick-tick of your cunt presses against his face as Gojo shuffles aside your layers and nuzzles in. Even through your underwear, it was making his mouth water already.
Without a single warning, Gojo lets his greedy tongue drip out and gives your clothed pussy a gooood lick. From bottom to top.
His tongue flickering back in. That damn light inside the meeting chamber flickers against once more- and you’re immediately bucking up into his touch. “G-Gojo—”
“That’s my father’s name. Instead call me…” He murmurs, throat smoky. With a sudden squelching kiss—placed right where your swollen folds were the plumpest, the heir to the Gojo clan struggles to push himself even deeper. Even closer. Even more desperately. “Satoru.”
“Satoru.” You repeat.
And he looks as though he’s in ecstasy.
In what seems like the far-off distance, there’s a sudden burst of something sharp- shards. The observation lingers in your mind and you’re realizing that it sounded like a lightbulb or one of the antiques being dropped.
But there’s no time to think about it too deeply—because in the next few seconds, you’re weaving your fingers through Gojo’s dampened white hair. Twisting them into a grip so deliciously painful for him, and dragging his pretty face back between your legs. A sudden moan rips from your throat- “Your future wife wants you to eat her out, Satoru.”
He’s on you so fast - nudgin’ his head nose-deep - that you think it might’ve been teleportation. “Yes, Madam.”
And how could he ever deny a command from you?
It’s the only thing that whirls in Gojo’s dazed mind- it’s the only thing his body even seems to be running on. Before he even registers what he’s doing, his fingers are reaching up to swipe aside your soppin’ panties. Fuck…you’re so pretty he feels a moan slip out. Muttering a ruined prayer between your legs- before the slender tip of his tongue darts out and slobbers.
A lick straight down your wet crevice.
A lap around the outer area where your slick had accumulated.
“Mmmpf—” Gojo breathes through his nostrils n’ lets them flare. He lets his eyes widen. He lets his jaw drop.
Just the faintest glimmer of your essence trickling down the side of his mouth.
And Gojo’s going crazy.
With a croaked, crackling groan at the back of his throat- he’s hooking a bulky arm around your left leg and tugging—manhandling you to him in a surprisingly primal way. Your pussylips are slammin’ against the edge of his chin, and he’s probing his tongue even deeper. Back and forth. Back and forth. “Why is she so sweet…”
Feeling the pressured intrusion of his tongue - the way his slippery muscle expands the first inches of your muscle so well - you’re merely arching up into his mouth with a keen. “Ohhh, just like that—”
“Huh? What- that’s not…” And for a few seconds there, you think he’s merely babblin’ away to himself. But when Gojo fishes his sloppy tongue back out and thrashes it even harder- nose pressing up determinedly against the nub of your clit - that’s when you’re realizing that something else might be at play here.
That’s when you’re letting your chin drop to your chest, and discovering Gojo already staring at you with large, hallowed eyes- straight up at you.
That’s when he’s becoming even more frenzied as he sandwiches his lips between your puffy folds and makes out with them. Those girthy inches of his tongue drawing out languid slurps and sounds that make his cock twitch. “Th-that’s not what I asked, Madam.” He’s rubbing up against the sensitive inner parts of your thighs, “That’s not the answer to my question, right?” From the way he looked, you genuinely couldn’t tell whether he was joking or dead serious.
“Satoru, what do you…” Getting on your elbows to look down at him.
But it’s almost too late. Because Gojo has his mouth hooked ‘round your sweet, sweet pussy and his zig-zagging tastebuds driving you wild—“Why are you so sweet?” Almost as wild as Gojo was driving himself. “Why are you so hot? So ready takin’ my tongue? Just fucking—stickin’ to me like that- your pussy’s trying to chase me when I kiss her.”
“O-ohhhh—you’re sure this is your first time?” You can merely sob.
Those sky-blue eyes of his flash with some amusement.
“So fucking…” And you’re not sure if he even hears you - you’re not sure whether Gojo can register anything other than the dessert platter in front of him right now. As if on cue, that leaky hole of yours empties out numerous wads of sap that smear down his cheeks. He welcomes it with what almost feels to you - and your technique - like a purr. And this last word is spat out in what almost feels like a growl- “-addictive?”
It’s almost accusing.
Though not really, and Gojo’s honed canines jut out as he lavishes a few kisses on your clit. Soakin’ it up enough to reach a hand up and pinch.
That glistening nub of yours grows even fatter n’ needier as he squeezes it between two cold fingertips. His thumb and his index. Just the sight of it is enough to make his mouth salivate once again, and all those gluey ribbons of saliva end up getting spat on your pussy once again.
Gojo’s pluggin’ it up with his crowned fingertips before it can get the chance to trickle out. Like a waterfall. “You must have done something to me…” The realization hits him.
“E-excuse me?” You ask.
“It’s your cursed technique- isn’t it—?” Gojo’s then scissoring two digits inside you and starting to pummel your gooey insides with them. Each movement causes the prettiest orchestra of squelches that enter his eardums like fucking music-
“It wasn’t.” Squealing. Soaring your hands through his hair. He scours every inch of you with a single thrust- the sheer length of his fingers, ending off with those knobbly swollen tips.
They were so moldable n’ he’s gluing them to your softest orifices like adhesive. “I p-promise it wasn’t…” Saliva starts to stream from one side of your mouth—your mind’s turning to mush with every passing second. Without even thinking, you grab him by the scalp and guide his face closer between your legs. The cavern of his pretty pink mouth opens with a soft ‘yes, ma’am’ and Gojo then latches onto your throbbing clit. “Why? Do you feel any different, Satoru?”
“Feel different?” At that question, Gojo has to physically lurch away from your pussy to look up into your face n’ make sure that you’re serious. You were. “Feel different?”
“Y-yes…?” Slightly taken aback.
Gojo genuinely lets his head tip backwards- with a bout of crazed laughter.
Short. Breathless.
It echoes around the room; and you’re sure of it—this doesn’t sound anything like the Gojo Satoru you’ve known. Until now. There’s a feral twinkle in his eyes that you can’t quite discern once Gojo surges his head forward and kisses your pussy once more. French kisses.
This time, his pupils were mere needlepoints around a sea of faintly-gleaming blue as he wraps his lips around your clit and peers up at you. A grin plastered across his face- he knows you can feel it, because you’re just squirming so much. “Sweetheart, I don’t just feel different…” Those roverin’ tips of his enter your hole once more, three of them propelling inside your slippery channel. “I think I am different.”
A shiver runs down your spine. What did he mean by…
Gojo’s eyebrows raise—“What do I mean by- hah, that? Well…I can feel your pussy reeeeeeal good-” His nose crinkles as yet another wave of slick slips down his throat, “-I can feel every clench, every pulse, every bead of slick.”
And then he increases the pace of his thrusts, until the brutish knuckles of his fingers were reddened.
Starting to swell.
Pump after pump.
Hit after hit.
The most ruthless swipes that messed up your insides. Leaves his mark on there like a last name; Gojo adds in a fourth finger just when you think you’ve been stretched-out to your maximum limits—
“And…” That flexible end of his tongue lifts off of your clit. He curls it tenderly in front of your entrance- just in time for a pearly bead of slick to escape you and end up dappled straight on his tastebuds. “I can predict wherever they start to drip.”
Your mouth gapes open.
And though that was impressive, your mind’s occupied with something else entirely.
You yelp and sit up on your elbows straighter. How did he know? He read your mind. He’s reading your body. You thought he didn’t have cursed energy?!
But as though reading your mind was something he did everyday, he continues.
He’s using those special antics to slash his mouth near-vertically across your own slit and end up draaaaaagging his textured tastebuds on top of your clit. Making you shake with every single spark of pleasure running up your body, whilst his fingers only prod ‘round even deeper. Swivelling around. Stirring you up from the inside. Squelch after squelch. “I can sense where you feel the best.” Gojo’s lips are flappin’ away animalistically between your legs. “I can tell just how good you feel—”
A sudden bite at your clit.
You’re yelping, “Fuh-fuuuuuck!”
““See? I can tell your pretty pussy liked that.” Gojo’s fluttering his pale lashes playfully. A smirk upon his maw. “I can tell that you like it when I do- ngh, thiiiiis—” Scissoring his fingers and flickerin’ his tongue on top of your clit, “And especially when I do this.” Making you throw your head back as he nibbles on your knob once more. Just as he had predicted - you shiver underneath his tongue, and he’s gapin’ his mouth wide to let those droplets cascade into his mouth. Those blue eyes of his nearly glow in excitement—“And I can tell…actually, I can see that you’re feeling good all the way from here—”
He presses down on your clit using the tip of his handsome nose.
Then glides his left hand up your front- as far as he could reach, he’s soon squeezing your left tit. Then the right. Alternating. There’s a strange buzzing sensation floating over your nipples whenever he touches them…“To here. Even higher up to that- hah, pretty head of yours, the way s’lighting up.”
“Lighting up…?” Just to make sure, you spare a glance down at yourself. “Satoru, what are you talking abou- oh.”
But then he’s hittin’ his fingertips damn near your g-spot, and it feels good enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, your entire body’s on fire because of how good you feel. And I haven’t even gotten to it yet.”
“My g-spot?” You babble.
He’s nodding like a drunken man. “She’s been waiting for me- pulsing, y’know?” Gojo trundles out through his husky breaths, “Throbbing. Needing. Just aching for my attention.”
“Th-this really can’t be your first time…” You mumble weakly, barely audible enough.
“And guess what?” He breathes- octaves away from normal.
“What—?”
Gojo was staring at you with wide, almost-bulging eyes. His gaze was glazed over and yet- still so frenzied, enough so that you swear the irises surrounding his pupils were glowing—“I can see where she is.”
With that said, you’re feeling the hardest- sloppiest thrust of his fingers yet.
A direct hit onto that cute heart-shaped button of your g-spot. Gojo doesn’t need to move his fingers ‘round to feel for where that particularly soft area was—he knew where it was instantly. And the most crazed smile splashes across his face, twisting his lips, as he’s watching you shatter underneath him. He knows when you’re reaching your high before you yourself do.
“You’re cumming for me…” He inhales hollowly.
Eyes widening, “I am?” It’s suddenly hitting you then: that spread of warmth from the pit of your stomach, up your spine, n’ fogging up your mind. Your pussy was just battering away at a staccato- your legs were thrashing where Gojo pinned them down with his upper half. “I am.”
Gojo merely crushes his face deeper and fucks you through the best orgasm you’ve had in your entire life. Fingers nothing but a blur. Nose nuzzlin’ deeper. “I would never lie to you, Madam.”
“Fuck…”
Tongue dipping straight into your slippery hole, then alternating between rolling over your clit. Wave after wave.
The bliss is almost too much to bear - it washes over your body, setting your limbs alight with the electricity of your orgasm. That dopamine. Those white stars. And Gojo’s pressing on your g-spot accurately upon every single peak, such dogged need. “Oh, and I can s-see it—”
“Satoru-” You’re keening out. Your hands reach up to muss up Gojo’s ivory strands, grabbing and lavishing his mouth across your clit. He’s sucking it inside and hollowing his cheeks out—“Th-that wasn’t anything my cursed technique did. This was all you, baby.”
“Oh…”
And with that awed expression upon his attractive features, he’s finishing up with the last few dredges of your orgasm. Letting the bliss course through you - Gojo then unlatches himself from your sensitive cunt with a loud pop! The last thrust of his fingers ends off with the faintest flicker of blue lightning…
You both catch it and gasp-
Gojo’s meeting your eyes with his frenzied ones. It’s then that you’re getting a good look- a proper one.
Gojo Satoru’s eyes were always such a beautiful blue. But now…they had a wreath of so many different shades - sky-blue, cobalt-blue, denim-blue, indigo, some almost as pale as white - playing within them that it looked like jewels. Like something out-of-this-world. It glowed with power.
“Oh my god-” You’re immediately attempting to surge up - and Gojo firmly presses you back down on the tatami. As if he already knew what you were going to say. “Satoru, we need to inform someone—we need to send summons to your Estate elders immediately-”
“Maybe.” He cocks his head with something akin to a pout.
And you’re staring up at him in disbelief, “Don’t you want to prove them wrong? Don’t you want to take your rightful mantle as head?”
“Maybe…” Gojo murmurs once more, and his brows knot in the middle. “But more than that- there’s something else I want to do first.”
His first time, that is.
Before you know it, Gojo hovers his body upwards- then he’s tugging open your robes. He’s leaving you half-bare. And then moving onto his, Gojo stares you straight down as he damn-near tears through the four attached straps of his hakama, the belt, the pieces tucked. Harsh. Almost violent.
It makes your cunt quiver just for a moment—and Gojo’s letting his jaw drop as though he could feel the fucking thing.
As though he’s listening to it. Worshipping it. He then manages to free his red, ravaged cock - glistening at the top with so much slick, and then turning into a peachy pink towards his base. Girthy tip, even girthier middle. His shaft was looooong and oh-so-proudly decorated in numerous zig-zagging veins, disappearing into the tufts of curly white at his hilt. He’s so damn hard that he twitches in the air a few seconds after release.
Almost immediately afterwards, Gojo’s tall frame collapses on top of yours. Body wracking with shivers.
Gently folding both your legs over his shoulders; they trembled with the aftermath of your previous high, and a wicked smile plays upon his lips as he bends and bends you until the top of your knees hit your chest.
He gazes down at you through the gaps in his ivory hair, “May I fuck you using my powers, Madam?”
Your mouth parts.
Gojo had flushed cheeks. Damp skin. His eyes faintly a-glow- and the most primal glimmer flickering within them.
Bolts of lightning dart from the edges of his peripherals and crackle in the sensual air between you two. The newest user of the Six Eyes in the Gojo clan. You’re wrapping both arms around Gojo’s clammy neck and pulling him to you - instantly, a whiff of jasmine hits you. “Please do, future head of the Gojo clan.”
He shivers.
And then he’s entering.
Just the large, globular tip of him—the very edge of it that feels almost scorching against your entrance. He doesn’t even need to sink all the way inside to stretch your hole ‘round himself, gluing his slit to the channel of your cunt - those walls that seem to just gulp him up. It’s heavenly enough that Gojo’s letting his head duck into the crook of your neck, mouth opening up in turgid gasps. “Oh- I’m fucking my Madam.” One jerky thrust. “My wife.”
“Sh-shit…” Your teeth clench. Your toes curl. And your pussy’s clenching around him like a vice. The stretch of him…it was like nothing you’ve felt before.
“Feels good?” Gojo asks, through strikes. His swollen shaft drags in n’ out at a dizzying rate, and with those Six Eyes of his - you knew when they were about to activate down at you, because the fizzes of lightning would grow more concentrated - he’s managing to point out your g-spot instantly.
Directly mazin’ between your fluttering wall. Pushing his rounded tip against that bundle of nerves- still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that even the merest brush sets your body alight…
Gojo reels his hips back n’ starts fucking you in quick, thorough thrusts that echo out into the room as plap! after plap! He’s cementing his toned v-line to the front of your pelvis, and letting out drunken giggles at the way your g-spot quivers for more after every whack—these damn Six Eyes really did manifest at the perfect time.
In no time, you’re feeling your walls turn to a gummy mess- ruined by his cock. Moaning out, “Go even deeper, husband-”
“O-oh.” His hips stutter mid-thrust. Not even bottoming out yet. “Ohhhh, don’t just say that-”
“Why not?” Fluttering your lashes up at him innocently.
Gojo then trembles- he clamps his jaw shut as though he didn’t know how to respond…or didn’t trust himself to. His knees hike up the tatami floors as though attempting to burrow himself even deeper—and then back n’ forth again as if conflicted. Conflicted. Gojo grazes his pearly whites down the side of your throat and murmurs, “Because c-call me that again n’ m’gonna cum…”
Just a few thrusts.
Not even bottomed-out.
An he was going to fucking cum- just because you called him that?
Your interest piques. “Maybe I want you to-” Angling your head so that his hair tickles your face, and your lips graze his ear lobe. “-husband.”
“Ohhh, I beg for mercy, Madam.” And he genuinely sounded serious.
“Husband?”
But it was too late- Gojo sprints his right hand down to clasp his hilt. But it was too late.
No matter how tightly he’s squeezing right there - where he was suddenly bulging even thicker at the thought of going inside you - Gojo’s ruddied tip leaks out a singular drop of ivory sap. And then another. And then another.
Until soon enough, he was coverin’ the entire front of your cunt. Eyelids shuttering. Throat cracking.
Gojo’s dipping his head down and watching as the mushroomy tip of his shaft almost explodes in a downpour of his cum- so much of it stored up. The warm wetness trickles over your pussylips like a glaze and ends up getting smeared by his blushin’ cockhead, stirring it around with the hand at his base. “Sh-shit.” Gojos takes his lower lip between his teeth, in an effort to keep the whimpers out of his voice. “Shit, I can’t believe you made me- ngh, cum before you. What did I tell you?”
“And I said I wanted it, didn’t I?” You’re grinning.
“And I can never deny my Madam- ngh.” The prettiest noise at the back of his throat- he’s breathing it into you as you two kiss. Once you’re breaking apart, Gojo’s finding himself bucking short, stunted semi-thrusts without his hazy mind having even realized it—“B-but about this mess…can I fuck it inside?”
“Hm? I don’t feel a mess.” It’s true - you felt the initial splosh! of his creamy white cum leaking out. But after that you didn’t feel it streak or dribble.
You’re both looking down and finding- “What’s…” That the large majority of his sap had accumulated around his fat tip, and though it was deliciously thick—there seemed to be another barrier that kept the cum from leaking. An invisible forcefield.
Gojo’s breath catches once he realizes, “Infinity.”
“What?”
But without answering, he’s merely swervin’ around the crowned head of his cock and watching as the glistening cum moves ‘round it. Doesn’t exactly touch it. “Infinity.” All the air seems to escape his lungs- and electrify around you two. Gojo looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “I can manipulate Infinity- I have Limitless.” Blue lightning scatters across his skin.
“Both? Both—?” Awe pumps through every atom of your being. It was impossible not to recite just what you’d learned in your jujutsu lessons years ago: “There hasn’t been a Six Eyes and Limitless user in the last 400 years.”
“I know.” He probably knew more than anyone else. And his lips twitch at the edges- he presses his sweaty forehead to yours. “I know.”
“Satoru, you’re probably one of the strongest sorcerers of two- maybe even the strongest.” Tone picking up in pitch and volume- and frenzy. The ends of your sentence wavered just a little bit at the fresh intrusion of his cocktip, twitching and glazed in cum—and something far more powerful. A layer of Infinity that pushed your sodden walls apart even further. “A-and you’re using it to fuck me—?!”
Another rugged thrust. “What else would I use it for?”
But of course, the suggestion of anything other than feelin’ your sweet, sweet pussy wrapped around him felt almost like blasphemy.
Gojo’s snowy brows furrow at the sudden rush of power- and it takes a little getting used to the ebb and flow of cursed energy, the urge to bend and mold space at his will. But right now he had more important things on his mind. And no matter how much his mind raced—it halted for one thing. One idea.
And the most crazed - almost bemused - grin breaks across his face.
Crooked and slightly off-kilter; he’s focusing all his energy on lacquering that long, looong cock of his with a shatter-proof layer of Infinity. Almost like a…“Condom.” Gojo utters without meaning to.
The half-shocked half-aroused look on your face is enough to make him continue.
“Like a c-condom.” The girth of his tip starts pressing in once more—this time with the added, minute measurement of his Infinity layer. And if you thought that he was big before, then now…and with the added fuzziness of cursed energy? The slight buzzing vibrations that penetrated your inner walls? You’re being driven absolutely insane—
And he’s just fuckin’ to fit inside.
“It feels s-soooo—ngh.” Your voice cracks almost pathetically. “Big.”
“Just big?” Gojo shovels in just a few more inches- almost like it’s never-ending.
Your toes curl. “Long.” You babble. Wringing your moans into the column of his throat - Gojo’s immediately turning his head and capturing your lips with his. “And so- ngh, veiny.”
“Oh? You can still feel them past Infinity?” He asks.
“Y-yes?” As if you could ever not feel those prominent lines imprinted onto his shaft. They formulated the most lecherous patterns that seemed designed to massage your sweetest spots specifically. Just rubbin’ and rubbin’ and making explosions of pleasure burst behind your eyelids—“I can feel e-each and every one-”
“Count them.”
Your eyes flutter open, “What?”
Another few more vicious thrusts- pointed. “Count them.”
Then Gojo’s pressing a chaste peck onto your cute cervix- loving. Pressing a heart-shaped indentation with his cockhead, it squishes ever-so-slightly against the very back of your cunt—and Gojo glides his shaft exhaustively back and forth. Making sure you’re split open on every single vein and indent, and even stimulated by the soft hairs at his base that tickle the top of your folds.
Perhaps The Strongest trills, “I’m waiting~”
“Oh- please.” You’re suddenly brought out of your cockdrunken reverie. Spending every remaining speck of sense in you to count- “There’s a really big one down the middle and…ngh…” Though with the added layer of Infinity coating him, you’re thrown into a frenzy attempting to accurately feel for how many veins decorated his thick shaft. “And then one more- two—?”
Lovingly, he kisses your lips…“Incorrect.”
Your jaw drops.
“Try again.” Gojo smiles sweetly.
And then you’re being fucked even harder- even deeper into the tatami floors until you’re sure the grounds of your Estate would be tattooed against your back. The mats lift and creak as he pummels a few more repeated- thud-thud-thuds against those velvety orifices. “Three-” You manage to gasp. “No- five.”
“Hmmm, wrong again.” Almost with a pout- the fucking nerve of him to pout.
And then he’s holding you to him as he funnels you even harder. The scruff of his happy trail dragging down your clit.
With a huff, you have nothing else to do but hold onto his sweaty, thrashing body for dear life. And with a monumental effort; you’re pushing your thighs ever-so-slightly together and clenching—as hard as you could, you’re suctionin’ off his pistoning cock. Milking him.
Gojo’s brows immediately furrow, and a crack appears in his irresistible grin. He’s letting out what almost sounds like a whimper- before nipping at the sensitive skin on your throat. “Oh…”
“Is it- hck! I think I got it…” You’re uttering. Everything about the way he was fucking you now was just messy and sloppy- from the way his clammy skin stuck to yours, to the way his precum was now drivelling through the layers of his Infinity, to the thump! of veins brushing against where you needed him the most. “It’s six- fuuuuck—”
He’s staring at you with dazed, tear-filled eyes. Unresponsive.
“It’s six, isn’t it?” You ask. Squeezing your heaven-like walls around him once more just to make sure- hard. “It’s six- fuuuuck, can feel six of you just massaging me inside.”
Breathing ragged. Brain ruined.
Gojo stows in his silence as his hips keep rammin’ away into you - he doesn’t need to think about it. He just can’t stop.
You’re running a hand across your stomach, feeling for where he was exerting the most pressure inside your goopy cunt. Shapin’ you to him from the inside out. “A-all the way—here- oh.”
“Correct.”
Rudely, Gojo smacks your hand away and replaces it with his, instead.
Lightning sticks to his fingertips like a second skin, just the most miniscule display of it. And yet, not in the least less powerful. You already know that Gojo’s using his Six Eyes before he starts to speak, “Here. Your walls. Your g-spot. Your womb—they love my cock s’much. All six veins, and all nine inches. Feel that twitchin’ there?”
Stupidly, you’re nodding.
“That’s your pussy begging for more-” Slapping his hips to yours with such aggressive thrusts- each one felt incredible. Each one was hitting eeeevery single spot he needed to and more. Curvin’ the luscious tip of his shaft against your drippin’ wet cervix, “That’s your pussy begging for it- even harder Faster.”
“P-please—” You’re keening. Hands racing up to claw at his bulging biceps.
“Again and again-” Without a single warning, Gojo reaches his free hand down and slaps! your neglected clit. The buzzing cursed energy there makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. “She’s begging to be filled up by me. To feel the seed of the Gojo heir dripping out of her…” Lovingly, he caresses your clit. “She aches until she can keep feeling me between those pretty legs as she walks.”
Another spank.
“She’s obsessed with the strongest, isn’t she?” Whatever quivering, twitching sensations that he can sense with those heightened powers of his—it makes him croon. “You make me so- hah, honest. Good thing m’obsessed with her, too.”
“Enough- I need you to do it.” You sob. “Do it, Satoru- ngh, I want you to cum inside me.”
“I would, it’s just that…” He trails off- just the faintest bit of rationality in his face. “I don’t know how m’gonna take this damn infinity off, sweetheart.” It’s just then that you remember his little ‘condom’ experiment. “Can you try squeezing?”
“Squeezing?” Gawking. But you do.
Just like before, you’re clenching your soaked walls- and it makes the powerful sorcerer buck. Even though he closes his eyes, you can discern his peripherals moving haphazardly behind them—affected. And Gojo pummels out a few more vicious battering rams before he gasps out. “Again.” Head falling into the crook of your neck. “Again- harder.”
And so you do. “L-like this?”
“Harder.”
Practically keeping his cock hostage.
Just one - one - stuttered probe of his ravaged length thereafter- and he’s entirely shattering. Not just in terms of the Infinity that scatters into nothingness—but because the faintest sensation of your tender walls, and he whispers. “I-I think m’gonna…”
“Shut up and cum inside me.” You retort.
And with a single thrust- Gojo dribbles out hot, white cum for the second time tonight. Hard. Powerful.
The minute his splatterin’ cum breaks through his Infinity to end up stirred inside your walls—an emission of powerful cursed energy emanates from his body. It singes his skin. It makes the air tense between you two.
The sudden spike in pressure makes the lightbulb above you shatter-
Only to rain down on the two of you, getting safely discarded by the forcefield of Infinity that Gojo had mindlessly cast as it began falling. And after every single plunge into your gooey, hot depths - scattered bursts of lightning bolt from Gojo’s eyes; eventually skittering around his body and making antiques around the two of you crack the further he crescendos into his euphoria.
Just like before, he was losing it. Except, this time, it’s ending up seeped at the very back of your pussy.
Glistening down your walls and ended up plastered to your cervix.
Using his Six Eyes, he’s managing to fuck every single webbed wad until they’re reaching deeeeeeply at the very back. The very back. Until not a single ounce was left leaking between your legs, and he could see every droplet of it puddled right at your womb- Gojo would rather die than waste a single drop.
And through it all as he fucks you, you’re crashing into your nth high- one after the other. More than just your second.
You dig your nails into Gojo’s muscular shoulders and moan out his name. “Satoru- Sa—” Kissing him deeply. Soft echoes of it still crackle at the back of your throat as he keeps pushing you through peak after peak, wave after wave. “Oh, it feels so- ngh, keep going. It feels so good.” One after the other.
“I can…tell…” So dazed that it was getting hard to speak even. Gojo was overstimulated and working his body to the bone.
The Gojo heir finally opens his eyes again- and you’re feeling a carnal jolt go through you as you’re taking in just how much power whirled beneath them.
Ravenous.
Raging.
His Limitless and his Six Eyes seemed to be battling one another for predominance. Both of them were winning - which just meant that every spark of pleasure he felt was another lightbulb cracked, or a handprint seared into tatami flooring, or a piece of furniture hovering.
So overstimulated.
“I-I need to think of…” Gojo’s eyebrows knit together, and he keeps his gaze downturned to where the two of you were connected. A sheen of sap spread between your inner-thighs, and you’re tugging him even closer. “Need to think of a way-”
“A way to do what, Toru?” You’re asking, after he trails off.
“A way to do…” Those hands twiddlin’ with your clit then form a complex array of signals; not quite practise, but more so just going with intuition. His cursed energy must have a lot to say to him after being cooped up in there for so long. “-this. Unlimited Void.”
There’s a mantra- then a flash.
Then you’re feeling space and time itself bend between your legs. Between your legs. It was like the twisting of air around you, the strange feeling of a vacuum running through your entire body.
And the lights of your entire Estate seem to be shutting down; before you blink through the darkness and make out the shape of Gojo staring lovingly down at your stuffed cunt. The way it bloated around his girth. The loads of cum that kept on trickling out. Your pussy that had a…strange tingling surrounding it that had nothing to do with your own cursed energy-
“Unlimited Void.” Gojo helpfully explains, “That way, I can cum inside your pussy forever.”
“Forever.” You breathe out. “Oh.”
Nuzzling you, “Such a complex mantra. I could only do it because of you.” He highly suspects that it was your honesty technique that helped him face his powers, after all.
You’re unsure how long it takes - but Gojo’s then buckin’ the two of you through another one of his orgasms. Then another one. Then another one- he twists his arm behind his neck and keeps your ankles interlocked, manhandling you backwards whenever he needed to.
Whenever he felt like movin’ you instead of his fatigued body.
Again and again.
He just can’t seem to fill you to the brim now. Squelching between every stuffed thrust.
Cock rock-hard still and doused with so many layers of his own cum. It was just the messiest experience to be stuffing you full like so - no Infinity would’ve been able to hold this back.
Eventually Gojo’s limbs were heavy, his hamstrings aching, his bangs sticking to his forehead. Knees pushing up against the floor in an attempt to clamor upwards—though he just kept sloppily dropping and falling and fucking you as best he could. He was practically collapsing his large body on top of yours n’ merely rutting his cock sloppy in and out - not even proper thrusts. In and out. “Ngh- feels like you’re going to cum again.” He eventually utters.
Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your head. “I can’t possibly-”
But a twist of his cursed energy-covered fingers on your clit, and you’re feeling your next orgasm soar through you. Flashing fast.
“Oh…Satoru.” As he’s churning your insides through another one- you feel a sudden splat! of something wet hitting your shoulder. Eyes snapping open.
That’s when you see that the oh-so-enigmatic Gojo Satoru was crying from overstimulation.
And you didn’t need his Six Eyes to see that he was cumming again- only, this time, he was cumming blanks.
Pretty face scrunched up.
Cheeks glistening with tears. Chin wrinkled.
Choking out sobs at the back of his throat.
His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and he’s gagging out a few thick sobs as translucent sap empties out from the end of his cock. His heavy balls having had enough—Gojo’s body was practically forcing himself to stop…but he couldn’t.
No matter how much he was cumming, it still wouldn’t be enough to fill up the Unlimited Void he’d casted on your fucking pussy.
And after a few more ruinous strokes, Gojo’s lurching his head up.
By now, you could reach that look in his eyes. “What?” You ask suspiciously.
“I read this- hah, don’t squeeze me like that I’ll…” Too late, he was pumping out a few more drivelling wads before continuing. “I read this extract in a textbook about Limitless once- that some users have the- ngh, ability to bend space and make a sort of…clone of themselves. Multiple.”
Your jaw drops. “C-clones…” Your cunt already quivered with excitement- letting out a lecherous sound of cum sprayin’ out.
He could read those feelings in you instantly- and he nods. You always did make him so honest.
“How about it, Madam?”
.
.
.
The elders already knew that a new user of Limitless and the Six Eyes had manifested.
Because at that very moment, the world had shook.
It had been impossible for anyone but the two lovers to ignore. And perhaps it was already time when that lone silhouette had stalked all the way to the Gojo Estate: shoulders tense and his blade glinting in his hand. They could say that Gojo Satoru hadn’t been born with cursed energy, but no one could say that he hadn’t clawed himself a reason to live.
Something to live for - someone.
And now, the cruelty of those that had come before was redundant.
That night - after leaving you wiped-down and tucked-in - Gojo had donned his robes and stepped outside into your sprawling gardens, still sore. There, he’d experimented with the rumored teleportation that Limitless users were said to have—and perhaps it really was true what you’d said.
Maybe he really was The Strongest.
Because in no time, Gojo was trained enough to teleport to the Gojo Estate had thought he’d never come back to. Certainly not to finish the job.
With his silver blade, decorated with the silver emblem of the Gojo family, he made those sleek floors run red. Between trees, he was a shadow. He stained the gardens with the foxgloves and the trees he’d always loved - he supposed that no butterflies would be visiting these gardens ever again.
At least he wouldn’t be.
And as Gojo cut down the last one of those elders, he memorized the look on his face. Nothing of the pity and hatred he’d seen all throughout his life—they all wore the same expression now.
Shock. Fear. Knowing - so this was the power of The Strongest.
Some were happy to merely witness it before they died. What an honor it was, to die by his hands.
Gojo wondered whether it scared them more that he’d found his powers, or that he’d come to hone them. Whichever it had been, he hoped they knew now - he was always someone strong.
He was always strong. The last swing of his blade.
Everyone was gone now - his relatives, his elders, his tutors. It was just the outsiders to the Gojo clan that he commanded to run—Ijichi himself had likely taken up quarters at your Estate, and he was determined that no harm should come to the innocent.
But did that make him just as cruel?
He cares not.
Overnight, Gojo Satoru became the head of the Gojo clan, he became a myth: The Strongest. Said to be talked about for centuries to come.
But that was for later.
Gojo steps back on the edge of the portico overlooking the gardens - a sunrise before the Sun could make an appearance. Then he focuses his newfound cursed energy and prepares to teleport right to your side, he couldn’t bear the thought of you waking up alone—everything else could be thought of later.
how they’d eat you out <3 heartslabyul vers! savanaclaw here! (more dorms coming soon)
MDNI
[a/n: i know someone else wrote a post very similar to this a while back but i cannot for the life of me find it to credit them :,( pls lmk if anyone finds it]
Riddle Rosehearts
he’s quite scientific about it, honestly
he knows all of the anatomy and everything, of course
so he definitely finds your clit—
but he doesn’t quite understand the appeal of going down on someone
that is, until he’s been the receiver
he simply must return the favor now
so he’s slow and unsure, but he will learn quick
riddle just needs to learn what makes you tick, and then he’ll definitely get the hang of it
he’s hesitant with it at first, his tongue gently flicking out onto your folds with caution
he really wants to satisfy you, so you can tell he’s nervous
so you might have to guide him once or twice
but once’s he’s gotten a good taste, instincts will probably take over
he’s definitely the type to whine or gasp as he eats you out
he also particularly likes sucking on and flicking your clit with his tongue when he’s feeling a little mischievous
he’s a little messy n inexperienced, but so, so passionate about your pleasure
once he’s gotten to know your preferences, he’ll be practically perfect for you
plus, he definitely prefers when you sit on his face, especially when he’s feeling submissive <3
Trey Clover
any time, anywhere, any position
you’re sitting on the kitchen counter? he’s kneeled with his head between your thighs, etc, etc
he’s EAGER
your pussy is the greatest sweet to him, and he’s savoring it
he’s overstimulated you to tears multiple times bc he just got lost in the sauce
so, yes, he gets SO pussy drunk
he’d gladly die between your thighs if his tongue’s in your sweet folds and your thighs are shaking around his head
trey actually just can’t get enough of you
it’s like he’s making out with your sweet, sweet cunt
when he pulls away for air, his glasses are askew and his lower face is absolutely covered in your shiny slick
he looks so hot like that, btw
and even hotter stuck between your thighs
he’ll beg you to sit on his face, with his nose nudging your clit as his big, strong hands spread your thighs and folds open
that’s when he takes his glasses off and truly dedicates it all to making you squirt on his face and tongue
but don’t think that his means he can’t be a tease!!
sometimes, when he’s feeling especially bold, he’ll focus only on your clit, letting your pussy spasm as he sucks hard
he knows exactly how brutal he can be, but you just taste so good!
Cater Diamond
oh he’s a smug one
a bully, even
he knows damn well that he’s good at going down on you
and he’s proud of it
too proud, perhaps
he talks to you the whole time, telling you just how wet and messy you are for him
he knows exactly what to do to make you cum over and over, and he’s abusing that power
sometimes, he times how fast he can make you cum
or, if he’s feeling mean, just how long you can hold it
but, if you ever want him to stop being all bratty, just sit on his face and smother him with your thighs
he’s be moaning immediately, it makes him so hot n bothered when you take charge like that
also, unsurprisingly, cater loves photos
his favorites are from when he’s left your little peachy panties on, and just sucked on your clit through the fabric
he’s such a tease
in that photo, there’s two clearly shining wet spots: one right over your sensitive little clit, and one more right below that where your little pussy leaked right through the thin pink cotton
anytime he sees the photo, he damn near cums in his pants, admiring how your slick turned the thin fabric all see-through and how your pretty little pussy was so, so wet for him
his other favorite is of his face, covered from lips down in your cum
it’s his favorite lip gloss
or maybe his favorite of him buried between your thighs, fucking you on his tongue
oh dear, there’s too many to count!!
Ace Trappola
ace is most definitely an amateur pussy eater
you’re his first, but he’s way too scared to admit that
so he probably tried to put it off for as long as possible
but he’s a changed man once he sees the wet spot in your panties
he loves licking you through the thin fabric, teasing your clit over and over
he is a little cocky to cover up his inexperience, but he shuts up as soon as he gets a good taste
he was hesitant, but once he licked a solid stripe from your folds up, he caged his arms around your thighs and pulled you flush to his face
he’s messy with it
VERY messy
he’s got no form, just frantic licks and sucks
if you taste this good just on your own, he has to taste you when you cum
it’s not a want, it’s a need for him
he’s so desperate, just endlessly pressing himself into you, begging you to cum
was he cocky before? yes
has your pussy trained him otherwise? hell yes
he’s so pathetic, rutting his hips into the mattress desperately
he needs you to cum on his face, and he’s begging and moaning into your cunt
when you finally do, he’s groaning out, mouth open and jaw slack, trying to taste all of you
just don’t tease him for the sticky mess in his boxers afterwards
Deuce Spade
sweet, sweet deucey <3
he lives to pleasure you
so when you ask him to go down on you, blush will run over his face and he’ll nervously accept
he’s definitely the type to try to do some research, not bc he’s dirty minded or anything, but bc you’ve been his first for everything and he really wants to make you feel good
he’s so sweet i wish he were real
when the time comes, he’s so gentle and slow with you, constantly checking with you
he’ll definitely need some guidance, but he’s trying so hard already
he finds that he really like the feeling of your plush thighs shaking on either side of his head
he loves how they squeeze him when you’re close
he’ll lap at your cunt gently, pressing light kisses and whispering sweet praise
he finds himself getting a little lost in the moment, moaning into your sweet cunt as he relishes in the sweet taste of your slick
he does get a little pussydrunk, and he might beg you to sit on his face <3
once he’s gained some confidence, he’s real passionate about it, with his tongue stimulating your sensitive hole just right, and his lips closing around your puffy, swollen clit
all the whole, he talks about how pretty you are and how good you taste
he might accidentally overstimulate you, but he’s so lovingly careful taking care of you afterwards
he’s definitely gonna be begging you to do this again <3
likes, reblogs, + comments are much appreciated <333
top secret chapter eighteen starring spy!reader (patreon)
honey, i shrank myself! starring scientist!gojo + scientist!sukuna
no. one party anthem track twenty-three starring rockstar!jjk men
man eater chapter four starring virgin!choso
save a horse, ride a hybrid starring horse hybrid!gentleman (patreon)
a/n: reblogs + comments always appreciated angels <3 i have SO much planned and in progress already in my drafts for may that i'm so excited to share with you guys :3
stormborns
jbbartram-illu
titsay
janainaart
izzy806
prguitarman
