summary: going to your friend’s daycare center on his time off awoke something in him.
genre: smut, timeskip au
warnings: 18+. breeding kink, lactation kink, mommy kink (he calls you mommy but not in the femdom way), multiple orgasms, slight oral fixation, overstimulation, dumbification, praise, degradation (‘dumb baby’), motorboating, squirting, fingering, creampie (lots of cum like a lot), cumplay, mating press (this is so messy bc tsum likes it like that omg sorry)
word count: 3.4k
author's note: for @mindninjax domestic daydream collab! thanks for letting me join! (let me know if i missed any warnings) (MINORS DNI) @hqintheclub
° thank you to @kurinoot for beta reading!
[3:34 PM]
the thought of having kids never really graced atsumu’s mind, not until he saw the little chubby toddler giggle in your arms.
“c’mon, tsum! it’ll be fun! my friend’s hoard of kids are the cutest and nicest bunch you’ll ever meet!”
cutest bunch? atsumu will not argue with that, but nicest? that’s definitely debatable. the only reason why he was able to escape from their chaos was because he was basically a giant to them.
no seriously, just as he was taking his shoes off by the door, hand-in-hand with you, all the kids stared up at him with awe. little ooh’s and ahh’s filled the room as they looked up at your muscular and tall husband.
you giggled at their reactions—both the kids’ and atsumu’s—before cooing at the children and playing with them, loud laughter and excited shrieks filling the pastel yellow room littered with paintings of animals.
atsumu will hand it down to you. visiting kids on his time off was never on his mind, but he admits that their radiant smiles definitely took a weight off his shoulders.
he was in his own corner, playing with the other kids, but he always kept a watchful eye on you. the longer he watched you excitedly playing with the little scrubs, the faster the stirring in his belly grew.
the stirring that atsumu has been feeling ever since the both of you arrived finally has a name—he wants to put his baby in you.
“hng—it’s embarrassing tsumu!”
you squeal loudly, cheeks burning with how mortified you are, but what do you expect?
atsumu’s a grown man with a heart and mind of a teenage boy, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you when his large hands then cup the soft skin and flesh of your chest as he buries his pretty face between the valley of your tits.
he shamelessly presses your breasts to his cheeks before promptly shaking his head from side to side. it’s absolutely embarrassing, and you’ve been trying to push his face away for the past five minutes.
but he just can’t get enough. his mind has been set ever since he hauled your ass out of the daycare. the minute the both of you entered your house, you were a flurry of rustled clothes and tangled limbs, lips locked in a messy and passionate kiss as atsumu stumbled up the stairs with you in tow.
you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t know what this was about or where the sudden need for him to devour you came from, because you know exactly what’s on his mind.
it’s a conversation meant to be had over a cup of coffee, with maybe a shot of something stronger in the cup, but with the way atsumu made you cum two times prior—maybe it isn’t so bad to let him have his way this time?
your husband has always been addicted to you and your body, practically insatiable, even. but this time’s different.
this time, he has a definite goal.
“i‘m gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart.”
he states seriously, as if the both of you are discussing a serious legal matter. he doesn’t give you any time to protest because he smothers his face in your tits again, blowing raspberries into your skin.
he would have definitely killed the mood if it weren’t for his talented mouth latching on to your nipple. atsumu rips a pleased whine from your throat as your fingers tangle in his messy blonde hair.
his free hand palms your other breast, skilled setter fingers tweaking and twisting the sensitive peak. god, he wants to ruin you. he releases your nipple with a loud pop and a satisfied groan, before his greedy mouth envelops the other one and gives it the same treatment.
you feel so hot, but you only have atsumu to blame. his large body is draped over you and he feels like a furnace. waves of warmth transfer from his body to yours, making your body slick with sweat.
the whole ordeal feels so juvenile, like you’re both young college students who have just started experimenting with each other’s bodies, but seeing the way atsumu is enjoying himself, you can’t help but feel so turned on by him and his actions.
the hard planes and dips of his body makes you feel protected and feminine. he’s just so warm. your free hand reaches out between the miniscule space between your bodies, your palm rubbing his shining and chiseled torso.
atsumu interrupts your appraisal of him when he sucks your nipple harder into his mouth, clearly enjoying the feeling of you touching him when his teeth gently nip on the nipple he’s sucking on.
you moan softly when you feel his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh, humping you like it’s his first time with a woman. little groans and whines fall from his lips, and you’re sure that it’s because of the slight relief he feels—based on the pre-cum that’s staining your thigh, but no.
atsumu’s eyes are tightly shut, his mind vividly giving him images of your sore and aching breasts leaking with milk. he never thought that he’d be into it but fuck, every scene that his brain conjures quickly becomes his fantasy as long as you’re the star of it.
“gonna make you mommy, would ya like that?”
he rasps in your ear, fingers stealthily playing with your slick folds. you yelp, jerking towards his body at the prodding and swirling of his fingers, pussy clenching around nothing as your body remembers the previous orgasms he gave you.
atsumu’s so sweaty, his blonde hair is sticking up in all directions but he’s never looked so attractive to you. his angular face is flushed with a pink color, lips swollen and rosy.
his caramel eyes open, wide and burning with unconcealed desire. his defined abs glisten with a thin sheen of sweat—yeah there’s no way you wouldn’t let him be all over you.
he looks like a god, your god.
“tsumu, please,” you beg, and you feel his cock jump at the whiny plea in your voice. your nails claw against his broad shoulders, leaving red streaks as you whine for him to stop teasing you. you need him, need his cock inside of you.
atsumu gives one last hard suck to your nipple before lifting his head, lazily smiling at you when he sees the needy expression on your face.
you sniffle as you whimper, eyes teary and wide because you’re aching all over—your tits, pussy, basically anywhere atsumu has touched you. you don’t really care that you’re whining like a dumb baby because the only thing on your mind is that you desperately need your husband’s cock pounding into you.
“shh, don’t cry. just gotta get you as wet as possible, s’all. fuckin’ love it when you’re drippin’ for me,” he coos, making you moan loudly when his thick fingers slip inside of you with no friction whatsoever.
his pupils are blown wide, rosy lips parted as he watches your messy cunt take his fingers, drenching his hand while the other one presses down on your abdomen.
he smirks devilishly when you wail, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head as he increases the pressure and speed of his fingers. it’s too early, he guesses, but he can’t help it—he loves it when you’re all dumb and whining for him.
you’re already so wet. you feel like a puddle has formed on the sheets below your ass, and the fact that his fingers are drilling into like nobody’s business isn’t helping. he already pulled two orgasms out of you and he still thinks you’re not wet enough?
“a-atsumu! g-gonna cum!” you scream as both of your hands reach for his wrist, practically anchoring yourself on his arm when you feel the tell-tale sign of the coil in your lower stomach tightening, preparing yourself to cum all over atsumu’s fingers.
“fuck, atsumu! so good,” you cry out, biting your lower lip so hard that the skin almost breaks. the loud squelching noises from your cunt spurs atsumu on and when he curls his fingers towards your sweet spot, he can’t help but marvel at the way your bent legs shake from the pleasure, cheeks flushed and eyes fluttering as you ramble incoherently.
“you’re so damn beautiful when you cum, baby.” atsumu praises you with a groan, pulling out his dripping fingers from your cunt. you watch with blurry eyes as he puts them in his mouth, moaning at the taste of your essence flooding his tongue.
you should be used to atsumu’s shamelessness by now, but he never ceases to surprise you. he catches you by surprise when he slips his spit-soaked fingers into your parted lips, humming as he urges you to suck them. this beast of a man, you swear in your head.
he chuckles, smirking boyishly when you copy his movements from before. his cock throbs at the lust in your eyes, promptly pulling his fingers, making you whine at the loss.
atsumu coos at you again as he expertly maneuvers himself, his large body now hovering over you as he nudges your legs open, revealing your dripping pussy to him. he braces himself with one hand beside your body while the other guides his cock to your sex.
“gonna put it in now, okay?”
it’s probably the last thing you hear clearly because a familiar ringing fills your ears. even after having sex with your husband regularly, daily—if you are to be specific, his cock still stretches your little cunt as if it’s your first time taking him.
he’s just so long and thick, it doesn’t even help that the veins on his cock drag inside your walls deliciously, leaving you a whiny and teary mess. atsumu never fails to make you go crazy and beg for him.
“shit, you feel s’tight, my god,” atsumu gasps, his breathing coming out in short and quick pants when he bottoms out. he reaches for your legs and wraps them around his lithe waist before leaning over you.
your heaving breasts are squished against his chest as he kisses you sloppily, moaning and whining in between the clicks of your tangled tongues.
“i stretch your cunt every day and you’re still suffocating my cock, sweetheart,” atsumu grunts as he jerks his hips, trying to sink even deeper into your pussy. the way your tight walls squeeze his cock makes him dizzy and the muscles in his back tense as your sharp cries and mewls fill the air.
shit, he swears he can just cum from your pussy clenching around him—but he's a man on a mission. it's not enough that he fills you with his cum, he wants your mind to be filled with just him. he’s greedy like that, after all.
“i-i love it every time you’re inside of me, tsumu, feel so full.”
you whine, body jolting with every heavy thrust he makes. it starts calculated, with atsumu never failing to get into his rhythm but he quickly loses it as well, even faster now that he’s fucking you with a definite purpose.
he’s definitely as drunk you are, rutting into you as the bed shakes and the headboard thumps against the wall. his guttural moans vibrate against your ear as he blabbers his inner thoughts with his raspy voice.
“you’d look so pretty, swollen and round with my kid. your tits would be heavy and aching too,” he whines, sucking your nipple into his mouth while thrusting in and out of you. “can’t wait to taste your milk, baby.”
your cheeks flame at his admission, eyes fluttering as his cock stretches you. atsumu finds your hands and holds them, pinning them on either side of your head.
your tits bounce and jostle with his rough movements but his mouth will always find a way to suckle your nipples—it’s practically one of his skills at this point.
“yes, ‘tsumu, please. fill me up with your cum!” you cry, your ankles locking together as your heels dig into his ass, but it's not necessary anyway, because the only place atsumu’s going to cum is inside your cunt, and he won’t waste a drop of it.
his balls slap against your ass and he untangles his hands from yours so he can press down on your stomach and draw tight circles on your clit, making you scream and fist the pillow by your head.
your lower half is pulsing in anticipation, back arching from the pleasure of atsumu’s cock curving against your sweet spot. you’re close, he can tell, he can see. the way your eyes go blank, mouth forming into a perfect ‘o’ as loud moans fall from your lips.
“yeah, s’okay sweetheart, i’m gonna fill you up—fuck!” atsumu moans, thrusting so deep that he teases the entrance to your cervix. his entire body tenses and stiffens, before he cums with a whine of your name.
he gasps as his body shudders, abs tightening when his cock shoots out his load into your creamy pussy. his bangs fall over his eyes as his hips jerk with small thrusts, making sure that you’re milking all of him.
his cum is so hot and thick and heavy. you can’t stop the high pitched whines escaping from you, how can you? your insides feel so warm and full.
atsumu looks down to see your pussy overflowing with your combined juices, groaning when your cunt clenches and flutters around him, leaving a white ring on the base of his cock.
he sighs contentedly, but you know he’s not done yet, because he’s still hard and pulsing inside of you. your husband’s stamina is a force to be reckoned with.
atsumu straightens his sweaty body as he clicks his tongue in disapproval at the cum that’s spilling out of you. his fingers play with the thick and viscous puddle of white where the two of you are connected, and the next thing he says makes your heart race even faster.
“hmm, not enough, still gotta fill you up more.”
he stops playing with you, in favor of hooking his hands behind your knees. he pushes your thighs towards your chest and snickers when he hears you squeak in protest, your face scrunching up in a wince when you feel the stretch in your legs from being folded in half.
atsumu slips his head in the small space between your raised legs, and kisses you with all the fervor and passion he holds. your breath catches when his chest squishes your thighs further, feeling the hot and throbbing cock hovering over your leaking cunt.
he moans unabashedly as he drives into you again, his jaw clenching as he grits his teeth. his cock is so sensitive that it hurts—but he’s a masochist and he loves the way you whimper and tighten around him.
your calves rest on his broad shoulders as you fist the sheets next to your hips. broken whines fill atsumu’s ears and he pulses even more, cock twitching inside you.
he still has a lot of cum to give and he’ll empty himself inside your pussy before he even thinks of falling flat on the bed. his eyes are glossy with unshed tears from the onslaught of pleasure but compared to yours, he’s basically a stream and you’re a waterfall.
your face is slick with sweat and tears. it’s so messy but so fucking hot at the same time and the tension in your thighs is nothing but a delicious pain as atsumu presses into you.
your body jolts with every thrust, your ankles dangling over his scratched shoulders as he brutally pounds your pussy. the loud squelching of your mixed juices, combined with the slapping of sweaty skin makes the sex so feverish and dirty.
“gonna make sure you’re so full of my cum, alright? i got you, don’t worry,” atsumu babbles as his large hands fist the pillow your head is resting on. he nibbles on your lower lip, moaning when he feels you clench around his cock.
“that’s a good girl, c’mon milk my cock—fuck yes,” he hisses, pelvis smacking against the back of your thighs as you practically suck him in. your hips buck against his with whatever little space you have, wailing when the curve of his cock hits the spongy spot inside your cunt.
“yeah baby, take my cock, take my cock.”
you’d be embarrassed at his volume if you weren’t so busy getting pounded into the mattress and it’s clearly obvious that your husband doesn't care if the neighbors hear him, and why would he? he’s fucking the best pussy of his life.
“wanna give you a baby tsumu! cum inside of me please!” you whine, tears cascading down your cheeks as your pussy throbs, juices leaking out of you and creating a huge mess of cum and slick between your bodies.
“yes, tsumu! right there!”
atsumu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your high pitched cry. his thrusts have no rhythm to them anymore, just sloppy and heavy smacks of his hips, growls and whines coming from deep within his chest.
there’s a tight and fragile spring in your lower abdomen, and the pressure of his weight on top of you, your thighs squished against your tummy—everything—renders you mindless.
nothing but broken cries of his name and profanities come out of your mouth, a symphony of pleasure that’s starting to become too much for you. one particularly powerful thrust from atsumu makes you keen, arching your back towards him and the spring just snaps.
you moan long and hard, head buried deep in the pillow as your legs stiffen for a few moments, before they tremble and your toes end up curling so hard that it’s starting to cramp.
clear liquid shoots out of your pussy in short spurts, drenching your thighs and his abs as your eyes flutter from what is probably the most earth-shattering orgasm atsumu has ever given you.
“holy shit, you squirted all over me, pretty girl. you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.
atsumu stares at you in shock and wonder, stopping for only a second before he fucks you with all the force he has, sloppily kissing your messy mouth before his muscles become taut with tension, moaning your name against your lips.
he fills you with his hot and heavy cum once more, his breath coming out in choked gasps as he shudders from his orgasm. your ruined pussy is definitely sucking him in and he curses at how it hurts so damn good.
“pretty little cunt takin’ all my cum,” he moans brokenly, lifting his body off of yours with his trembling arms so he can stare at the hot and sticky mess that’s connecting the both of you.
you blacked out for a bit there and saw stars. rivulets of your combined juices travel down the crevice of your ass, staining the sheets below you and forming a puddle.
you feel lightheaded and dizzy, chest heaving so hard as atsumu removes your legs from his shoulders, straightening them on either of him. you’re mumbling unintelligibly and atsumu mirrors you, hiccuping as he pulls out with a loud and wet pop that has him blushing profusely.
his eyebrows furrow, wincing at how his cock is rubbed raw but he wants more. he still has a few rounds left in him.
you sigh in contentment, eyes drooping as the exhaustion from your activity catches up to you. but you’re in for a rude awakening because atsumu unceremoniously flips you to your stomach.
he pushes your back into a deep arch and you whine brokenly, but words have since left you and your bones are practically jelly, too mindless to push him away.
he’s literally as fucked out as you are, his body trembling with the same intensity. but he’s not finished, far from it.
atsumu’s brown eyes are hazy and shiny, drool falling out of his lips as he looks down at the junction between your ass with a tired and semi-satisfied grin.
he eases your twitching by massaging your thighs to relieve the tension. he lines himself up to your battered and dripping pussy, thighs messy with trails of white smearing into your skin.
he leans over your back and his lips kiss the sweaty skin where your neck meets your shoulder, and a dopey smile stretches his lips when you moan and wiggle your ass. you want more too.
“we’re not done, sweetheart. gotta make sure you get pregnant after all.”
[6:55 PM]
tagging: pls omg sorry for the tags again but this baby got flagged so if u can give it some love again ehe .
𝙱𝙾𝙳𝚈𝙶𝚄𝙰𝚁𝙳!𝚃𝙾𝙹𝙸 - the first time he fucks you is at a bar.
3508wc. n\\fw. drinking, blurry consent, public restroom sex (unprotected), oral. barely edited. gets fluffy toward the end bc i cannot help myself
BODYGUARD!TOJI was barely of 16 when your father plucked him from his clan. he’d been barely 16, trained to fight from the moment he was born, and given to you a for your 13th birthday. he knows what happened -he won a fight, your father paid a hefty price for him, and his family handed him over like an animal-, but knows fuck all about how you ended up his responsibility. he’d been forced to fight for as long as he could remember, bred for that sole purpose, and protecting something -someone- was nothing like it.
but he had no choice but to accept the responsibility, made sweeter by the money and comfort that came with it. so, he plays knight-and-princess with you. lets you do fuck all as long as you don’t make his job tedious. and he finds that you’re amusing as time passes, so even tho he’d rather be bashing someone head into a concrete underground for others’ entertainment, he finds himself sticking closer and closer to you. his green gaze bored but always focused. always attentive. doesn’t even really like taking time off because he doesn’t trust anyone else to have your best interest in mind.
(doesn’t like other people touching his things, either.)
and proof of this comes one evening in a bar you shouldn’t know anything about. because you are a little princess- he’s made sure to keep you this way, following your fathers orders- and no little princess of his should know anything about where he goes to get his dick wet.
and yet: you’re sitting at a table with a group he recognizes from your college days. it’s a shock to his system, seeing how much they’ve grown. seeing that they’re men and not scrawny little crew members. and, in turn, seeing how much you’ve grown.
it hits him like a ton of fucking bricks. he doesn’t know how he missed it beyond the fact that he’s been doing his job, but he watches as you laugh at something one of them says before taking a shot. and then another. and another- this one spills from your lips, falling onto your bared chest and slipping between your breasts and he wonders where the fuck whoever was assigned to you is because this is the last thing you should be doing.
but, there is no sign of them. so he watches from his vantage point, keeping track of you as you attempt to cut yourself off while one of the little assholes continues to push drinks in your direction. and after an hour, when you get up to go to the restroom and said asshole teammate follows, toji is forced to recognize that his job has become a lifestyle. and his lifestyle is you.
of all fucking things.
so he follows and finds you in the bathroom. bent over the sink as the little asshole eats you out. and he has to hand it to you -as his eyes dart from where the other man is buried between your thighs to the view of you in the mirror, your tits squished together between your arms and hazy bliss on your face- he’s impressed by the turn of events. amused as your lips part under the low lights and you shift your weight to arch your back and reach back to adjust his head.
it’s your moan that snaps him out of it, whatever the fuck it is, forcing him to scowl before he growls your name. your eyes open slowly, finding him in the mirror, and shock flickers across your features for barely a second before your lashes flutter against your cheeks.
“t-toji,” you breathe as your finger loosen in your old teammate's hair.
he has no fucking clue how he hears you over the roar of the bar. no clue except for the fact that he’s perfectly-conditioned -no, fine-tuned to everything about you.
it’s a death sentence. truly. (and worse: he doesn’t hate it.)
“whoa,” the old teammate says. “dude. you’re still around?”
toji’s eyes flicker down to see the boy wiping his mouth with the back of hand.
“of course he is. what type of stupid question is that, brock?” you ask as you pull up your jeans. “toji and i will always be together.”
the other man -brock- looks between the two of you in surprise before asking, “like, romantically?”
“get out,” toji bites out, watching as you turn to lean your bum on the sink. “now, little boy.”
“what are you even doing here?” you ask once you’re alone.
he ignores the question in favor saying, “only sluts gets fucked in bathrooms. the filthier the cheaper.”
“ouch.” he watches as your hips wiggle distractedly, the desire for pleasure still drawn tight over your skin. “thank you for the vote of confidence.”
he sucks his teeth. “let’s go.”
“i came out to get laid. i’m not- don’t look at me. you don’t think i’m a virgin do you?”
“yes.”
you grin. it’s shit eating and his fists clench at his sides as you say, “oh” in a sympathetic tone that wedges itself under his skin. “i’m so sorry to disappoint, toji…to take that from you.”
he sees red. feels it burn through every inch of him. hears it, even, rushing through his ears. he says your name, tone clipped and cold. “let’s go.”
you don't budge. “why are you here? for the same reason?”
“where the fuck is whoever’s watching you?”
you cross your arms, framing your breasts in your low cut top, and he can’t believe how distracting it is considering he’s gone god-knows-how-long without noticing. “you’re the only one who takes care of me. everyone else lets me do whatever i want.”
“irresponsible,” he hisses and you laugh. “we’re leaving.”
“um, no. i need to get fucked.”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who feels like ice water has been thrown on him. who feels his cock start to stiffen as his lip curls in disgust. BODYGUARD!TOJI who resists the urge to manhandle you out of the restroom and bar by the skin of his teeth. BODYGUARD!TOJI who watches as your mouth curls to one side, mirth flashing in your eyes, and hears himself ask, “oh, you need to get fucked, huh?”
the bathroom door is still propped open with his foot, his large body taking up every inch of the doorway, and the look you shoot him cords desire through every inch of his body.
you’ve always been his. for as long as you all have known each other you’ve belonged to him and now -now- he sees a way to own you further. deeper.
his cock throbs as the idea bounces around in his head until he finally lets the door go and turns the lock. you gasp, eyes brightening with excitement as you straighten up, hips once again moving attractively under his watchful eyes.
“are you finally going to give me what i want?”
he has to hold himself back. he knows it. but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop.
“i’m not going to give you anything,” he tells you as he closes the distance. “i am going to take, though.”
your body softens, submits to him as he fills the space before you. you nod, looking up at him through your lashes. “whatever you want.”
his hand settles on your hips. he hears your voice in his head, again asking are you finally going to give me what i want? he had no idea, and as he feels your skin under his palm he wonders how long you’ve wanted anything from him.
“you know you just have to ask. don’t you?”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who doesn’t really let you answer. who kisses you instead, tongue slow and sweet on purpose, savoring the moment with you just in case this is the only time. who can’t unsee the woman you’ve become since his eyes were opened, and doesn’t really want to.
BODYGUARD!TOJI who pops the button on your jeans and flattens his palm against your stomach before slipping in. who lets his index and pinky fingers flank your lips as his ring and middle fingers push between them. who finds you soaking wet from more than just the mouth of that little fucking boy you’d been suffering through oral with. who smiles at the needy little cry you give, your face pressing into his chest.
“how bad have you wanted it, baby?” he hums as he plays with your clit, fingers circling and teasing. “pussy is so fucking wet…”
“don’t tease,” you breathe, fingers digging into his arm. “you already know- haa, Tojiii, fuck-”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who always gives you what you want. who pushes his fingers into your hole and fucks you with them, his other hand coming up to the back of your head to hold you to his chest. who chuckles at the way your hands clench at his tshirt, your little pants wetting the fabric as he fucks you on his fingers.
“tell me what you need, princess.”
“your cock” -you nuzzle into his chest and toji feels something irrational pulse through him, a reminder that you’re his and that you’ve wanted him settling low in his stomach- “need it, toji. hard and fast until i’m- i’m- fuck yes” -your hips cant forward, grinding your clit to his palm, and there’s a sick, sticky sound that draws a groan from his stomach- “please.”
“until you’re what?”
“be-begging you to stop. until…until after that.”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who doesn’t disappoint. who pulls his hand from your cunt and sucks his fingers into his mouth, moaning at your taste and smirking at the way your eyes watch his, hazy and hungry.
he’s drunk off of it. off of you and it’s the greatest feeling. he doesn’t think he’ll be able to give it up.
“ask for it.”
“ask?” you tease, curious amusement in your gaze. “not beg?” you tilt your chin and he kisses you, tongue stroking yours.
his thumb strokes your check. “i want to hear you ask for it. explicitly.”
“i’m asking you to fuck me like a cheap slut in a filthy bathroom.”
he smirks, licking his lips as he steps back. “turn around.”
you do, eyes meeting his in the mirror, and he’s rough as he tugs your jeans low enough. his hands squeeze at your hips and ass, thumbs digging into the crease of your thighs before pushing back into your hole and pulling you open. he watches the way your eyes flutter closed, feels the way you attempt to push back into him, and realizes that others have seen this version of you. that this glimpse into your pleasure isn’t his and his alone.
it draws a growl from his chest.
he fucks his fingers into you, hard and fast as his other hand wraps around your waist. his fingers slide through the mess you’ve made of yourself, settling on your clit and circling. faster and faster as you tremble in his arms.
your eyes barely hold onto his as your head tilts back toward him in pleasure. he fucks you through it, adding a finger to stretch you open for him and cupping your cunt in his big hand once you attempt to wiggle away from him.
“haaa,” you breathe, looking back at him in the mirror. he dips his face into your shoulder, breathing you in, and the familiar scent of your perfume and skin mixes with the smell of your sex, overwhelming his senses and leaving him throbbing.
“fuck, toji- i-” he gives you a squeeze before letting you go “-so good. felt sooo good.”
he drops your gaze and focuses on pulling his hard on from his jeans. he decides -somewhere between fisting his thick cock and rubbing the head to your slit- that he can fuck thought of anyone else from your mind. that he won’t have to worry about if there will be a second time, just about when.
“c-condom?”
“no.” he smirks at you. “i’m fucking you raw, princess.”
“b-but-”
“‘m clean,” he breathes, “and you’re mine, yn.”
he hears your breath catch, feels the way you shift needily. “yours, huh?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him. “how many girls have you fucked raw?”
“how many brocks have you?”
“never,” you answer. “i’ve never fucked anyone without a condom.”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who doesn’t bother hiding his groan of pleasure or shy away from leaning in to kiss the curve of your cheek. who feels like he’s won a prize- who knows he has. “good girl.”
“toji,” you bite out, your annoyance making him smirk.
“you’re the first.” he licks his lips as he fits his cock between your swollen folds, his drooling tip teasing you mercilessly. “the only… do you trust me?”
“trust suggests i doubt you, t-toji.” your statement is broken by a whimper. “i d-don’t doubt you…i could never.”
he licks at your neck, teeth grazing your skin at the taste as you say, “i’m asking you to ruin me.”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who bullies his cock into you and laughs as you cum from his sheer size, your moans and whimpers of pleasure filling his ears. who fucks you hard and slow against the bathroom sink, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip as he takes and takes and takes, each stoke long and hard.
he never looks away from you, green eyes focused on watching pleasure play out on your features. watches you become his and his alone as he pounds you through another orgasm, your pretty lips parted and gaze unfocused as you breathe his name like it’s the only thing you know.
“-toji, t-toji, tojiiii-”
it echoes, each utterance like music to his ears and balm to his soul as you cum again and fuck if anyone told him this is how tonight would end he’d have faught them. might have killed even. but, as it stands now -now that he feels your velvety walls around his cock, pulsing and stretching to take all of him- he can’t help but accept the situation for what it is: heaven.
BODYGUARD!TOJI who taunts you, the hand at your neck sliding, his arm cradling you in a chokehold as he pulls you back. you back bows, pushes you further onto his cock, and he can’t help the groan that escapes him as you gasp because he’s nearly all the way. who stuffs you to the brim, imprints himself on you, and he’s certain he could go a little further. that he could give you more and you’d accept like you were made for him. that you could take all of it if he really needed you to.
“makin’ such a fuckin’ mess, baby,” he murmur, loving the tears that wet you’re cheeks. “such a sloppy fuckin’ pussy.”
you whimper, walls pulsing weakly around him in the sweetest of orgasms: they’re his now. not yours. you know it as well as he does. you may have needed to get fucked- might have enjoyed the first two, but everything that’ll ever follow is his.
“ruin you, uh?” he asks, breath hot at your ear. “ruin you for who? for fun?”
he smirks, tilting his hips just right and feeling the head of his cock slip in deeper. like a fucking puzzle piece. you gasp and cry, hands coming up to grip his arm.
“tojiii,” you whimper, tears wetting his arms.
“i’m ruining you, baby,” he bites out, pounding into you and finally letting his eyes fall to where your tits bounce in your shirt. “you asked for it, didn’t you?”
you groan, the sound delirious before you breathe, “yeah…”
“say it” -he shakes you a bit, forcing you to meet his piercing gaze- “lemme hear you say it.”
“i asked f-for this,” you pant, eyes hazy in the mirror. you do your best to maintain eye contact and he can’t help but find it sexy. the way you struggle and accept and cry and again say, “i-i asked for thiiiis.”
he can still feel you trembling, walls pulsing weakly over and over, and as your body sags against him he sees fucking stars because the weight of you is perfect. perfect. perfect as fucks into you, short and fast now, loving the feel of your swollen cunt sucking him back in with every stroke.
“tappin’ out on me, already?” he chuckles, voice low as he listens to you. someone bangs on the door, but you’re too far gone to notice and he doesn’t give a fuck. “i thought you needed you get fucked, princess? were you that desperate? i haven’t even filled you up yet.”
“toji,” you murmur, nails digging into his arm.
he grunts, loving the feel of it. “gonna take more for me, yeah?”
you moan, half looking over your shoulder. “yeah,” you agree, voice thick with lust.
“a lil’ more for me, baby. you feel so good…”
“a-asked for this.”
fuck. he fucks you harder, cock throbbing and balls aching. all because of you. you. who he’s never even considered and yet-
he shoves his fingers into your mouth before you can cry out, moaning at the wet feel of your tongue. “can you still taste your pussy on my fingers? good girl, baby. suck’em just like that.”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who teases filth in your ear until he fills you up and holds you still on his cock, both of his arms drawn around your shoulders and face buried into you. who can still feel you trembling, your cunt squeezing at his cock as though you haven’t gotten enough, and has to remind himself that you’re too far from home. that you’re in a disgusting public restroom. that you’re his charge, his responsibility, his spoiled brat of a princess- his.
it’s the word he focuses on because it’s true.
“toji,” he hears you say, voice breathy and desperate even now. “i-i don’t want you to pull out.”
he chuckles, eyes meeting yours in the grimy mirror. “are you asking?”
“ha- well. n-no. i can’t…i can’t take anymore. i swear to god the head of your cock is in my fucking cervix r-right now-”
he chokes on a laugh. “you’d be an actual crying mess of pleasure if that was true.”
“wha- uh. please. just let me down a little. not too fast- fucking-fuck you feel so-
“i’m so empty now.” you whimper, slipping out of his arms as you pull your jeans back up. “god, i can-i can feel your cum-”
he watches you slump against the wall and shove your hand down the front of your pants. wonders briefly who the hell would do such a thing until he hears you whimper and watches as you pull your hand free and lift your fingers to reflect the light.
“-how funny. i’ve never-”
BODYGUARD!TOJI who watches you lick your fingers, your face still wet with tears. who groans, a choked laugh escaping him at your startled expression. who tucks his spent cock back into his jeans and steps closer to you, eyes not dropping yours as you continue to lick your fingers clean.
“yn.” he leans in, kisses you over your fingers and strokes his tongue over yours once you move your hand. “are you comin’ home? or remainin’ with your friends?”
“wherever you’re going.” you hesitate for a moment before gripping the edge of his shirt, your other hand coming up to wipe your face. “if-if that’s ok.”
his knuckles brush your stomach as he buttons your jeans, but it’s only as he tugs the zipper that the gravity of what he’s done settles upon him. he’s fundamentally changed the structure of your relationship because he was angry. angry and jealous. the thought confuses him now, but it doesn’t stop him.
he hooks a finger in one of your belt loops and tugs you closer. looks down his nose at you. again wonders how he overlooked the woman you’ve become before.
“whatever you want,” he tells you, hugging you to his chest for a moment.
it dawns on him that it’s rare, touching each other. something done only out of necessity. but as your arms sneak around his waist he decides he likes it. more than he probably should, considering he works for your father. that he’s paid to protect, not fuck you.
but, his thoughts are cut short by someone banging on the door. he hugs you closer when you jump, hyper aware of how soft you are against him.
“don’t let go.”
#
BODYGUARD!TOJI who accepts it. whose job has become his lifestyle and whose lifestyle is you. who understands that even though you're his -and his alone now, considering he was going to beat the shit out of whoever let you out of their sight-, you have a hold on him that he can’t describe. that you’ve always had that hold on him, from the moment he’d been sold to your father.
Synopsis. As a single mother, you have fought tooth and nail to provide your son the stability you never had, and one of your motherly sacrifices included a self-imposed dating hiatus. But your perspective soon changes when your reclusive neighbour enters the picture.
WC. 15.3k
Genre. NSFW, alternative universe.
Warnings. Alcohol consumption, kitchen sex, oral (female and male receiving), ass play (female receiving), side wind-her position, reverse cowgirl, sixty-nine, a sprinkle of toe sucking, overstimulation, biting (hickeys), spitting, praising, heavy dirty talk, spanking, ironic usage of mommy, fluff if you squint, piercer! Sukuna (with eyebrow, tongue and nip piercings) cause I’m a wh*re.
MASTERLIST
Part 1 | Part 2
You’ve received plenty of gifts in your life, ones that held a deep sentimental value to you; a bouquet of roses from your first partner, a watch as a high school graduation gift, and even something as trivial as a colouring book on your tenth birthday. You were a person of sentiments after all, and although it’s been years since you’ve received that Digimon sketchbook, the memory remains cherished in the deepest pits of your heart.
But the best gift you have received, was eight years ago on the nineteenth of April. It might not have been wrapped up with a pretty red ribbon and a heartfelt, written gift card attached, but you’d like to believe he was the greatest blessing you could ever ask for.
You named him Zion.
Of course, like any other woman who gets impregnated during the peak of her youth, you went absolutely ballistic seeing the two red lines on the pregnancy stick that confirmed your long term suspicions. With the father out of the picture long before you had the chance to tell him, the discovery was a new added weight to your shoulders, one that you struggled to carry on your own at first.
It was safe to say that there was a lack of familial stability growing up for you, and you’ve made sure to not allow history to repeat itself by providing a nurturing environment. As the years went by, you found yourself developing a set of skills you never thought you could possibly obtain. You were not just a mother when you gave birth to the most beautiful light in your life. You grew to become a protector, a doctor, a cook, a teacher, an advisor. You were a force to be reckoned with and didn’t lack a single ounce of independency. Some might assume being a single mum is a long, lonely road consisting of nothing but sleepless nights and overbearing responsibilities (which isn’t exactly a lie, to be quiet frank), but it was a road that ended up building your strength and resilience. In the end, you have transformed from a fragile dandelion, to an impassable mountain that emerged from the earth’s crust, one that cannot be shook by the strongest storms or winds. And you have Zion to thank for that.
As expected, having a child came with many sacrifices. Eight hours of sleep, sexy lingeries, and night outs with your friends were long deserted once you signed your life-time oath of motherhood. You even abandoned your bikinis at some point, because your trips to the beach went from sipping cocktails and peaceful hours of suntanning to chasing around an eight year old that would insist on trying to eat sand for reasons unknown to you. You were sure you were going to grow two more arms and legs from raising a single child. But seeing your son live a comfortable life, a life that you unfortunately did not have the privilege to live when you were his age, it was infinitely rewarding.
The scorching heat of the oven fanned your already hot face as you pulled out another tray of freshly baked cupcakes. Placing it on the island next to the other two trays that have cooled down long ago, the sweet aroma of butter dominating your nostrils as you inhaled a large breath. You began to pipe overlapping rows of petals with purple icing, giving it the illusion of a carnation as you towered it with a sweet glaze of Swiss Meringue buttercream—you were trying to welcome spring where you can, which can only mean creating floral designs during this time of the year. Wiping your cheek tiredly with the back of your hand, you were quick to finish with the frosting and decorations, your eyes studying the small pieces of art with a proud smirk, only for realisation to crash hard into you once you’ve registered that you made too much for anyone's likening.
Whilst you were too absorbed scolding yourself in the head for repeating the same flimsy mistake that you never seem to learn from your weekly baking sessions, your ears perked up to the familiar sound of small footsteps rushing towards you. You kept your hands at your hips and your eyes fixed at the dozens of cupcakes with a hard glare as if they would decrease in number under your gaze. Your train of thoughts were interrupted once you felt a tug at your blouse. Your eyes soften at the sight of a giddy Zion, who stares up at you with a toothy grin and eyes as bright as the universe.
“Is this the Swedish one?” He perks up, catching a whiff at the delightful dessert assembled in front of him, eyes scanning the triumph of egg and flour. "You mean Swiss meringue?” You snort, before seeing a small hand from your periphery reach for one. “Hey!" You playfully swatted him away, “Dinner first, then dessert.” You remind him, ignoring the small pout he gives you and resuming to the task at hand as you began to place pieces into their respective plastic containers.
“Did anything fun today?” You mutter, eyebrows furrowed as you shut the food containers with a lid, careful enough to not smudge the frosting you’ve perfected. “Kizuki’s mum took us to the park to ride our bicycles.” Zion says absentmindedly, still entranced with the floral frosting in front of him. He attempts to sneakily reach out for one, only for you to swat his hand away again without even so much as sparing a glance. “I thought your bicycle had a slipped chain?” You ask confusingly once you met his gaze, before turning on the faucet to wash up your hands. You were planning on taking it to the store at some point, but the thought slipped from your mind before you had the chance to stick a post-it note on the fridge as a reminder.
Zion’s lips stretch into a tight smile. “Suku fixed it for me!” He blurts, reaching for a cupcake once more. You don’t stop him this time, too dumbfounded to give him a third scold as your mind attempts to absorb what he just said. “Suku?” Your feet remain rooted in place. “The man living across the hall?” The eight year old nodded vigorously, sinking his teeth into the cupcake in his relatively small hands. With his mouth full, he explains, “He’s really nice, even though he keeps calling me kid, which is weird because I told him I have a name but—“
“When did that happen?” You don’t mean to interrupt him, but to hear someone whose had grouch as a synonym to his name suddenly possess the urge in helping others, when he made sure to go far and wide to close off any form of interaction had rendered you speechless. Zion gives you a half-shrug, “A few days ago.”
To say you were shocked would be an understatement, because Ryomen Sukuna, inhabitant of apartment 23B, and quite bluntly, the most hated tenant in the apartment complex, was not a man to do favours, let alone hold a conversation with anyone. You assume that he must’ve left the womb with a scowl because it remains etched on his inked face with every encounter, and you never hear anything come out of his mouth except for a grumble of annoyance, followed by his apartment door slamming shut whenever you greet him a good morning. With a wicked temper and sour attitude, he was like the grey cloud that would suddenly rain on a summer afternoon, the storm after the calm. The grinch per say, except his heart never grows three sizes for him to have a change in demeanour.
“Peanut I told you not to bother him. He’s not a..people person, remember?” You attempt to put it nicely, but Zion only blinks at you. He swallows down another bite, his legs swinging from the kitchen stool, “But I didn’t. He saw me with the bike downstairs and told me to wait before he came back with his tools.”
“He did?” You ask bug-eyed. At this point you can only assume that your son must be confused with someone else, because the series of events currently being retold to you sounds completely paradoxical to the man living across the hall. But as far as you know, there’s only one person with a pink undercut and tattoos littering his face in this prefecture. “Yup, told you he was nice.” Zion replies proudly, licking off the frosting from his fingers. You shake the thought out of your head, wiping your hands down your apron before picking up the two containers of cupcakes. “Okay, wanna take these to Mrs. Oshiro before dinner?” You offer politely. To your dismay, your carbon copy shakes his head immediately at your proposal. Your eyebrows pinch in, “Why not?”
“She scares me.” Zion confesses, sinking into the stool. Ironically enough, a harmless elderly woman seemed to pose a threat to him unlike the six foot tall, tattooed man. “And she’s weird.”
He licked his lips, leaving a streak of frosting right on the tip of his nose. You grab a nearby tissue paper in response, bending down to wipe his face before disposing it in the bin. “Don’t be mean. She’s nice! And she looks out for you when I’m at work.” You attempt to convince him. With time you grew relieved that Zion came out to be an exact duplicate of you, in terms of both looks and persona, not inheriting a single scrape from his father. Admittedly, the outcome wasn’t always in your favour when your son would act as hard headed as you can be.
“But she made us hide in the closet last time cause she kept saying some men in suits are coming to take us.” Zion whines before his bottom lip juts out into a pout. You couldn’t find a fragment within you to blame him for his attitude towards her. Mrs. Oshiro was nice when she wanted to be, but after the loss of her husband, her health had declined drastically, in a sense—growing paranoid at the slightest inconvenience and occasionally stirring up rumours about fellow occupants. Her memory wasn’t the best after all, but she was nice enough to both you and your son. And in your book, that was sufficient enough to maintain a civil relationship with her.
“Fine, I’ll take it.” You sigh out defeatedly. Zion straightens up at that, a triumphant giggle erupted from his lips as you amble out of the kitchen and towards the front door. “And no more cupcakes!” You call out knowingly, slipping into your sandals before unlocking the door to step outside.
It only took three consecutive knocks before the door belonging to apartment 26B began to creek open ever so slowly, revealing a tuff of platinum hair. A wide brown eye peeks through the gap. “Mrs. Oshiro? It’s me, [Name].” You call out softly, tilting your head with a smile. The older woman gasps, slamming the door shut in your face before you heard a set of chains unlock.
“[Name]!” She beams once the door wings open. The decades worth of wrinkles and folds of skin were now more pronounced as the corner of her lips stretch into a wide smile. You’re careful to not let your eyes wander to the inside of her apartment, given that would only trigger one of her various phobias (unfortunately for you, you’ve learned that the hard way, and the incident from a few years back only led to Mrs. Oshiro locking herself up for two continuous weeks without opening the door to anyone).
“I hope I’m not bothering you, but I made some sugar free cupcakes, so I thought I’d drop over some.“ You gesture towards the two containers you’re holding, one placed on top of the other. There isn’t an ounce of hesitation detected on Mrs. Oshiro’s face when she steps forward to take one right out of your hands. “Aren’t you the sweetest!” She exclaims, holding it up to the light as she examines its contents from below for reasons unknown to you.
“I was hoping I’d catch you. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about little Zion.” She mutters absentmindedly, cracking open the lid and swiping the frosting with her finger. Your lips purse like you’ve just chewed on a lemon rind at the sight of your violet carnation turning into a stomped flower. Mrs. Oshiro licks her finger clean with a hum of satisfaction. “I saw him the other day with that..yakuza boy.” She discloses with a hush, her eyes flickering to apartment 23B warily before meeting your gaze. “Yakuza boy?” You repeat for affirmation, eyebrows drawn inwards confusingly before your face softens in realisation. “Oh, you mean Sukuna?”
“Sukuuunaaa,” Mrs. Oshiro drags out the name in utter disgust, tongue sticking out and eyes rolled in annoyance at the mentioned. “—Is nothing but trouble. You need to tell your boy steer clear from him.” She continues warningly. You weren’t sure where all this newfound hatred towards your neighbour suddenly emerged from, but you can only assume how the combination of tattoos, piercings and a vulgar mouth was a natural repellent towards the elderly. You shift your weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, trying to wrack up the right words to say. “I don’t..think he is though. He fixed Zion’s bike. I was gonna go give him some cupca—“
“Are you mad, young girl?!” Mrs. Oshiro shrieks in horror, eyes wide in disapproval as she suddenly grabs your forearm. “I saw him with his group, [Name]. He’s a yakuza.” She firmly states with conviction. You weren’t one to feed into rumours or blindly believe in such irrational accusations—it’s not exactly wise to pass judgment on someone based on preconceptions, let alone by their appearance. But given the look on Mrs. Oshiro’s face, you knew attempting to convince her otherwise would only lead to a dead-end. You politely remove her hand, giving her a reluctant smile. “Thank you for warning me. I’ll be sure to follow your advice.”
You thanked the Gods above the conversation was cut short. Your answer seemed to satisfy Mrs. Oshiro, because she only pats your cheek with a “thank you for the cupcakes”. Wishing you a goodnight, she closes the door and locks it shut. With your lips pursed, you choose to completely contradict your previous words by turning on your heel, and allowing your feet to carry you towards apartment 23B.
Hesitantly, your hand balls into a fist as you knock twice on the mahogany door. You shuffle with your feet as you wait for the next minute or so. You knew for a fact that he was at home given the light peeking through the peephole, and it only dawns on you at that moment that he could be ignoring you. Stubbornly, your hand moves to knock once more before the door suddenly swings open. You flinch in response, clutching the cupcake container instinctively. Your eyes widen at your rosy-haired neighbour, whose body spray odour invades your nostrils instantly.
He only looks at you with distaste filling his expression; eyebrows drawn in as he shoots daggers at you. You felt yourself shrink under the intensity of his gaze, and at that moment you were willing to pay whatever amount of money to be able to undo your actions, because the growing feeling of regret began to slowly germinate within you once you met his gaze again.
You gulp unconsciously before stammering, "Uh..hi." He doesn’t greet back, his scowl unchanged. His gimlet chestnut eyes travel to the container in your hands momentarily before returning to your face, almost impatiently. And you knew in that moment he wasn’t too fond of the idea of you being a few steps away from his door. The palpable tension grows thicker, "I'll just cut straight to the chase then.." you mutter quietly, eyes shifting to your feet before meeting his stone hard glare. You clear your throat, speaking up loud and clear, "Zion told me about what you did with uh..his bike, and I wanted to thank you for that."
He pauses for a second, only to nod curtly at your words. His silence only proved more difficult for you to string together a proper sentence as a response. "Anyways, I made some cupcakes—" You attempt to sound enthusiastic as you held the container up for him to see, but he only blinks at you in disinterest, his stare unrelenting. Unconsciously, your mouth began to babble profusely, "I mean some would be an understatement because I made way too much without even realising so I thought mayb—“
"I don't like sweets."
His voice catches you off guard; gruff and thunderous, enough to dry out your throat as it rang in your ears. Your eyebrows shoot up at his bluntness. "They’re sugar free.” You defend with a squeak, but your attempts to win him over are futile. Sukuna seems unfazed, his hand remains clutching the doorknob tightly. “Let me rephrase, I don’t want your sweets.” He elaborates lowly.
You wanted the ground beneath you to split into two and swallow you whole as the air grew stuffy around you. Your tongue pokes out to lick your lips, "Oh." You mumble embarrassingly, your voice as quiet as a mouse. "Guess I'll just..take these back then," You gestured towards your apartment door, “And be out of your way.” Nearly scramming away, you plodded back to your apartment in dismay, expecting to hear his door close shut from behind you, but you freeze in place once you surprisingly hear him call out for you.
"Hey."
Hesitantly, you slowly turn your head to face him with a hopeful glint in your eyes, because you expected to hear an apology, or perhaps him changing his mind and suddenly taking the container from your hands. Instead, he lifts his hand to point at his own hair, his pierced eyebrow arched slyly. And you could’ve sworn you saw a devilish smirk dangled on the corner of his lips. "You've got an egg shell in your hair." He remarks flatly, not giving you a chance to formulate a response before he takes a single step backwards and slams the door shut with a click.
You blink owlishly, reaching for your own head. You pat your scalp in several different places before feeling the rough texture belonging to a fragment of an egg shell. Letting out a huff of annoyance, you stomp back into your apartment and shut the door with a loud bang. Glancing at the container in hand, you couldn’t help but scoff at your previous encounter. Muttering “I don’t like sweets” mockingly in a poor attempt to imitate his hoarse voice, you carelessly open the lid to shove a cupcake into your mouth in frustration. You lean your head against the door, cheeks puffed out as you flutter your eyes shut. Savouring the taste, your moment of bliss was soon to be interrupted when you suddenly hear a familiar voice speak.
“I thought you said no dessert before dinner?”Cracking one eye open, you see Zion staring up at you with pure curiosity. Swallowing, you answer tiredly, “Can I break the rule just this once?”
“Will you let me do it with you?” Of course he wouldn’t let you off so easily without throwing in the bargaining chip. Groaning in defeat, you close the container shut and walk past him towards the kitchen to start dinner, ignoring his pleads as he scrambles to chase you.
“W-Wait! Maybe we can work out a better deal!”
The skin around your fingertips and across your palm nearly peeled as you typed away onto your computer. With another work report due soon at your corporate job, you remind yourself once more to purchase more coffee grains on your next shopping trip given you were already on your third cup. Luckily, you were flexible with your job, ensuring to not leave poor Zion alone at the hands of a paranoid Mrs. Oshiro as you began to work from home at least twice a week.
Having your eight year old away to one of his monthly sleepovers at the Fushiguro’s allowed you to use the opportunity to your advantage, typing on your keyboard until your fingers fell numb. Eyes strained and consecutive yawns fighting their way out of your mouth. Tonight, you were persistent with finishing as much reports as possible to make more leisure time for you and your son. With your objective clear in your head, you send off another excel file via email before moving on to the next one. But you’re cut short once you hear your doorbell suddenly ring. Sighing, you type out a quick starter before pushing your chair behind to stand up, fixing up your shirt as you drag your feet towards the front door.
The situation seemed fitting, you think, once you’ve looked through the peephole to see a tuff of shell-pink hair. Your eyes, however, widen in surprise either way at the unexpected visit. "No fucking way.." Unintentionally, your voice came out louder than expected, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth once Sukuna snapped his head up with furrowed eyebrows. You took a small step back, before cautiously unlocking the door and prying it open.
His usual, unperturbed mannerism didn’t come across as shocking to you—breath slow and tranquil. With navy sweats on, his hair was damp from a recent shower, the usual bright hues of his watermelon locks reduced into a deeper shade of magenta. The silver chain of his necklace visible as the pendant disappeared underneath his black tank top. "Do you have any sugar?" He questioned grouchily—voice monotone and flat as he awaited for the girl that struggled to sputter out a single, comprehensible word. Too gobsmacked at his presence to even formulate a proper greeting. "I thought you didn't like sweets?" You squeaked out without a thought, almost fighting the urge to palm yourself in the face when you received nothing but a quirked eyebrow in response. You quickly recompose, “I’ll go get you some. Please wait here.”
He only nods, looking away when you close the door shut and place the chain back on. You were quick to strut into your kitchen, swinging open the cupboards and nearly dropping the bag of sugar to the floor once you reached for it. Your eyes flicker to the last few cupcakes left out from your previous baking session, nearly scoffing at the idea of offering him some again. Saving yourself the embarrassment, you opt to return with the coffee mug filled with its requested contents only. Unlocking the chain to swing your door open, you stand composedly as you press your lips, the small amount of chapstick you’ve applied hours ago causes them to slide and spread the moisture. “Here—“
"I’m not one to meddle with something that’s clearly not my business, but you should really keep an eye out for your kid.” He suddenly interjects, making you stop in your tracks. The hand holding the mug of sugar is stretched back to your chest, your eyes narrow into slits at the sudden remark. “Excuse me?”
He clicks his tongue in disinterest, “Some neighbourhood kids are bothering him. You might wanna do something about that.” Sukuna vaguely explains. Judging from the slack expression and stiffened posture, his suspicions are confirmed once he notes how stunned you look from the sudden news. “He hasn’t told you, has he?”
You blink, shaking your head slowly in dismay. Your hand squeezes the mug hard enough it could crumble into dust under your fist. “No..he didn’t.” You admit sullenly. Zion has never hid anything from you before. If anything, your son has been an open book to you his entire life. Perhaps he didn’t want you to worry, or wanted to handle things himself knowing how boys can be. But no eight year should be shouldering such experiences on his own, not when you have signed a life-time oath to be his protector amongst the long list of several other nouns.
“I only intervened once. But don’t expect me to do it every time.” Sukuna states firmly, not hesitating to establish boundaries between you two. His chocolate orbs pierce yours as you nod in understanding. “Thank you..for stepping in.” You trail off quietly, eyes flickering to the mug in your hand before meeting his potent gaze. “And for telling me. I-I never thought Zion would hide something like that from me.” You stammer anxiously. “He’s a boy. It’d be weird if he didn’t hide anything from you.” Sukuna retorts bluntly, his expression unreadable. You can only nod again—mouth dry and chest constricted. Gulping, your cheeks puff out like a pine squirrel as you exhale large and exaggerated breaths. Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, watching you tug at the collar of your shirt nervously. “Is it getting hot in here?” You exasperate, shamelessly blowing air inside of your shirt through the hole of your collar right in front of him.
“Are you okay—”
“Yeah, yeah it’s just—“ You breathe out in a panic-stricken manner. “This is the phase, right?” You don’t await for Sukuna to respond, as he only continues to stare at you warily. Blabbering incoherently, you continue, “The phase where they start hiding stuff and then it’s the blatant lying before they grow up to be teenagers and start sneaking around and talking back—Do you want some cupcakes?” Your thumb jerks behind you and over your shoulder. Sukuna blinks, taking a minute or so to process your rant. Nevertheless, his face remains neutral, “No thanks.”
Sighing in defeat, your shoulders slump before resting the back of your hand against your forehead, eyes screwed shut in embarrassment before you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry it’s just..that’s never happened before.” You explained quietly, “Thank you again..for letting me know. Zion did say you were nice.” The corner of your lips began to quirk up into a lacklustre smile, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.
Sukuna doesn’t mirror your expression. He nods slowly at your words. “You have a good night.” He mutters, before turning on his heel to walk back into his apartment. The door quietly shuts behind him. With a defeated sigh, you look down at your hand, relaxing your grip at your mug. And that's when you realised something.
He never wanted his sugar.
At some point, you knew you had to navigate and pinpoint the last splinter of courage you have left within you to knock on the door. Nevertheless, you continue pacing back and forth in the hallway anxiously, quietly chanting to yourself the same line you’ve been rehearsing in your head like a mantra. It’s comical now that you think about it; how confronting an eight year old has your palms twitching and the nape of your neck sweating profusely. From a stranger’s point of view, you could come across as paranoid, perhaps unreasonably dramatic even. But you are a mother first above everything else, and it is your duty to ensure your son steers clear from harm’s way.
Somehow, and strange enough for you, you think you managed to successfully locate the shard of said courage, because your hand forms into a fist before knocking twice, the other nervously gripping the door handle and nearly slipping from your own sweat. “Zion? Can I come in?” You hear shuffling through the door before he calls back cheerfully, “Yes mama!”
With the way your heart’s beating erratically in your ribcage, you think you’re not too far off the mark from a soldier on the frontline who’s about to embark on a prodigious battle. In spite of that, you twist the door knob and sallied forth into his room with a struggling smile, “Hey—“
You don’t know what hits you first; the sudden feeling of disorientation, or the way your muscles fell rigid at the sight ahead of you. Zion only gives you a toothy grin, completely oblivious to the way your jaw falls slack as you frantically rush towards him. “Oh my god!” Your wide eyes flicker to the black sharpie clutched in his small hand in horror, your hands cradling his face as he giggles innocently at you. “W-What I—“ You were at a complete lose of words to say the least, your fingers trailing the messy black strokes drawn on his chin, across his nose and down the sides of his cheeks. “Peanut, what did you?” You stressed, careful to not raise your voice. Completely unaware of your tantrum, Zion only beams at you, his blatant enthusiasm unfaltering, “Now no one gets to make fun of me!”
It was the exuberant smile depicted on his visage, plus the recollection of your encounter with a certain rosey haired man that caused a striking realisation to wash all over you. Still in a daze, your hand drops from Zion’s cheek, falling immobile at your sides as you blink at him. He seemed to pick up on your sudden change in demeanour, because the corner of his lips curve downwards into a concerned frown, his eyes wide as he looks up to you once you stand tall. He tilts his head, “Mommy?”
“Grab my hand, please.” You request with a sigh, stretching your arm for him to hold. He does so without a drop of reluctance, eyes not leaving your crestfallen face as you guide him out of his room and right outside of your apartment. The trek to the apartment across you is short. Your eyes are fixed on the bolded two digits nailed to the door with a hard glare, unable to keep your blatant anger from erupting as you knock in urgency. Clearly, you weren’t the only one undergoing a fit of pique, because he swings the door open with eyebrows knitted in visible irritation. He snaps at you with a scowl, “What?”
“Look!” You point at Zion furiously, who only waves at Sukuna energetically. You catch the look of shock that momentarily flashes in his cocoa eyes, unable to veil the surprise in his visage when he sees the scribbles littered on Zion’s face. “Suku, I look just like you now! Now those boys won’t pick on me anymore!” Your son chirps.
“That is not something to be proud of, Zion.” You warn, before hearing a quiet chuckle erupt in front of you. Your head snaps towards Sukuna, seeing a loop sided smirk on his face. “You think this is funny?” You hiss, your forehead puckered. He only shrugs with disinterest, crossing his arms over his broad chest before leaning on the doorframe lazily, “It kinda is.”
Unable to bite back your tongue any longer, you decide to display your clear agitation when your son’s completely out of sight. Looking down at the giddy eight year old, you pat his scalp gently, your voice much softer compared to earlier. “Zion, can you go back inside, please? And don’t wash up until I’m back.” He cranes his neck to look at you, nodding obediently before slipping his hand from yours. “Bye Suku!” He waves happily before skipping back inside. You wait until the door clicks shut before your eyes meet Sukuna’s once more, “I don’t know what you told him—“
“I didn’t tell him anything.” He quickly refutes your accusation with an arched eyebrow. He notes the scowl on your face as you ball your hand into fists. Nevertheless, he continues, “What? It’s my fault that an impressionable ten year old happened to gain some inspiration?”
“Partially, yes!” You argue back, too absorbed in your own anger to bother correcting him. Sukuna, however, clenches his jaw at the way you suddenly raised your voice at him. Placing a hand on the doorframe for support, he bends down to your level predatorily with a harsh glare, and you find yourself shrinking under his gaze as regret began to seep through your veins.
“Is it really? Or did you just want an excuse to knock on my door?” He cocks his head to the side. You only stare at him bug-eyed, mouth parted but not uttering a single word. He doesn’t pay any mind to your lack of speech, but rather sighs as he stands up straight, “I did that to myself once.” He begins. His voice is low, his words are for you alone. “When I was his age, I drew on my face with a sharpie.” Sukuna elaborates, running his hand through his locks. You scoff, folding your arms over your chest, “Is that supposed to be comforting? Knowing there’s a possibility my son’s gonna tattoo his face ten years from now?”
Leaning on the doorframe again, he arches a sly eyebrow at you. The silver barbell pierced through his skin glistens under the hallway light for a split second. “Do you not like my tattoos?” He asks amusingly. “Well, yeah when it’s on your face not my kid’s.” You mutter absentmindedly with a playful roll of your eyes, before your facial expression falters in realisation. Your widened eyes meet his dark chocolate ones, and you find it hard to look away when his lips curve upwards into a smirk. “I mean..”
Before you had the opportunity to make a fool out of yourself even more, you hear the faucet running in the background behind you. Letting out a small curse word under your breath, you leave the inked man to his devices once you hear your son call out for you pleadingly.
“Mommy! It’s in my eye!”
The universe must have an odd sense of humour, because unfortunately for you, you’ve crossed paths with Sukuna too many times for your likening after your encounter. And conveniently enough, it was always when you three shared an elevator; meaning you had absolutely no escape route given you were still embarrassed from your previous slip up. Piping the icing on the cake, Zion always seemed to be the catalyst for a conversation starter too. For reasons unknown to you, he seemed to have a sudden spike of interest in Sukuna; bombarding him with a fusillade of questions at every given opportunity. In one of the many occasions you’ve shared an elevator with the mentioned; Zion, this time, asks about his occupation.
“Suku? Are you a painter?” He asks, curiosity lingering with his words as he munches on a baby carrot. His eyes study the black bands around the taller man’s wrists, to the ones peeking through his jumper. Disinterestedly, Sukuna keeps looking ahead as the elevator began to move up. “I’m a piercer. And stop calling me that.”
“Piercer?” Zion scrunches up his face. Choosing not to stick your nose into their conversation, you can only wait impatiently for the elevator to reach your floor, ignoring the way your shoulder continuously brushes against the man next to you. “Yes piercer,” Sukuna affirms, before looking down at the eight year old with a blank expression on his face. “I shove needles into people for money.” He elaborates bluntly. You’d think at this point, Zion would let the conversation die out, but unsurprisingly, he presses even more. “What’s that like?” He inquires quizzically, taking another baby carrot out of the small zip bag in his hands before sinking his teeth into it with a loud crunch. “Busy.” Sukuna states flatly, but he doesn’t stop there. With a cunning smirk, he deliberately attempts to frighten the child, “And then you have the blood. And the snot, and the—“
You snapped your head towards Sukuna with a scowl, but your son’s reaction stops you from intervening. “Wow..” Zion’s eyes widen in astonishment. Too bewildered with the newly shared information, his jaw falls slack, allowing a full view of the mushed carrots in his mouth. You almost politely remind him to not speak with his mouth full before he quickly swallowed down his bite. Craning his neck, he meets your soft gaze with twinkled moon eyes. “Mama, can I be a piercer?”
That’s..not what Sukuna expected.
What he did expect, however, was a cold, harsh no from you; given most parents would want their children to venture out into career paths that held promising futures; medicine, law, engineering. Amongst the sea of occupations, a piercer was not a negotiable card on the table. And a small fraction within him was actually hoping you wouldn’t snipe off the small root of creativity germinating in your son’s head.
Sukuna’s eyes shift to you with a raised eyebrow in discrete anticipation for your answer. “You can be...” You trail off, before placing your hands on Zion’s shoulders. You give him a small squeeze, your lips stretched into a comforting smile. “Whatever you want to be.” You finish, eliciting a toothy grin from your son. The man blinks, taken back from your response. Zion, on the other hand, toddles his way into another topic when he addresses Sukuna once more. “We’re having Lebanese for dinner. Have you ever tried Lebanese, Suku?” He beams.
“Yeah, I have.” Sukuna replies, his mind shamelessly casting itself back to the long onyx hair, olive skin and smooth curves belonging to one of his many flings. He holds back a snicker when he continues, “In bed.” Catching on to the double meaning, you’re quick to reach for the elevator buttons, pressing on your floor number frantically in order to cut the conversation short. “But mommy said to never eat food in bed.” Zion points out innocently.
“Maybe mommy needs to try out different places to eat.”
You thank the heavens above when the elevator stops with a loud ding. Impetuously bidding a quick goodbye as you pulled Zion out in a hurry, ignoring the sly chuckle erupting from behind you. And you nearly curse yourself in your head for allowing his words to leave an impact on you, because your face doesn’t fail to heat up swelteringly at his remark.
Considering the fact you haven’t been in the dating scene for as long as you could remember, it was safe to say you found it challenging when communicating appropriately with the opposite sex. After all, your time was preoccupied with either caring for your eight year old or finishing up a work report; so if the conversation didn’t include recipes to sugar free cupcakes or managing excel sheets, you were a lost cause. Perhaps that’s why you could only squeak out a quick goodbye rather than addressing Sukuna’s sly comment. You weren’t sure where it came from either, considering he wouldn’t so much as spare a glance at you in the past five years you’ve been neighbours.
The next time you share an elevator where the experience renders you speechless once again, was during the time Christmas was around the corner. With you and Zion just returning from a small shopping spree in preparation for the holidays, a tattooed hand suddenly stops the elevator doors from closing, and you found yourself gulping involuntarily when the doors slide open to reveal no other than the devil incarnate himself.
“Suku!” Zion exclaims, watching the older man walk into the elevator with his shoulders slumped tiredly, a vermilion winter jacket hugging his broad frame tightly. “Sukuna.” He corrects with a sigh, giving you a small nod of acknowledgment. He stands next to you as always, leaning against the wall with his red-rimmed eyes fluttered shut. You can only assume he had just recently returned from work as you discretely note his fatigued posture. “What are you doing for Christmas?” Zion asks once the elevator door close shut. You give your son a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, hoping he would get the hint to not press your neighbour like every other occasion given his current state. However, Sukuna pays no mind to it. With his head leaned back and eyes remained shut, he mutters, “Stuff a kid like you wouldn’t know.”
“Like what?” Sukuna cracks one eye open to see the eight year old looking up to him with sheer curiosity. Defeatedly, he straightens his spine and shoves his hands into his pocket before answering more clearly, “Well..I drink lots of adult juice.”
You can only agree with him in your head, considering glasses of cheap red wine seemed to be your new best friend once Zion hits the sack on Christmas Eve. “Adult juice?” Your son repeats quizzically, before his face lightens up in realisation. “I know what that is!” He exclaims proudly, “Mommy drinks it too. Does it hurt when you do it by the way? Because she always cries when she does.”
“Zion!” You shriek in embarrassment, your mind casting itself back to the one time you actually chose to have a drink in front of your son—an occasion where you ended up pathetically crying in front of an eight year old over an old movie from the 80s. Fortunately for you, the elevator doors slide open at the most convenient time, because you’re quick to usher your son out before he spews more of your secretive penchants to your attractive neighbour. “Wait!” Zion calls out as you unlock the door to your apartment. He turns to look at Sukuna, whose also on the verge of entering his own apartment. “Won’t you spend Christmas with your mama?” Zion cocks his head to the side, luminescent eyes glinting with wonder. Sukuna stiffens, lips pursed. His heavy-lidded eyes flicker to you momentarily, before shifting back to your son. “No.” He simply says.
“Why?” Zion questioned. You give his hand a small squeeze nervously before you interject, “Peanut—“
“I don’t have one.”
Your eyes snap towards Sukuna, who only has a tight lipped frown on his face. The silence that fell after his response was almost tangible, and you couldn’t help but sympathise with him. Regardless of how he built too many walls around himself but not enough bridges, no one should be spending the holidays on their own. You place both hands on Zion’s shoulders, who stands in front of you with another carrot in his mouth, his small back pressed against the lower half of your legs. Bravely, you ask, “Would you..like to spend Christmas with us?”
He didn’t seem to appreciate your proposal, because his cocoa eyes narrow into slits when his head snaps towards you, “If this is you taking pity on me—“
“I’m not!” You quickly interject, “I was just..wondering if you wanted to join us, it’s Christmas after all.” You shrug. His visage is indecipherable when he blinks at you, eyebrows still furrowed. When his eyes dart to Zion, the little boy gives him an eager nod with a contagious grin, inaudibly urging him to say yes.
He doesn’t give you an answer that day, and he surely didn’t plan on spending the holidays on your couch with your son wedged in between both of you as you all munch on some pretzels with the TV switched on for background noise. But when he catches the ivory invitation card that slipped through the small gap underneath his door, followed by the sound of small footsteps rushing back into the apartment across from his, he couldn’t help the small chuckle that reverberates in his chest when he reads through card. The messy strokes belonged to the handwriting of an eight year old surely, but the vocabulary usage was a clear indication that you helped him write it out.
Special invite card! Only invitees. No plus ones please! Only for the special (nice) ones.
To: Suku
From: Zion (And mommy)
Come spend Christmas at the [Last name]’s! Where you can enjoy Christmas movies, skrabl scrabble and Swedish cupcakes Gingerbread houses!
Time: 7PM
Place: Apartment 22B
P.S: Adult juices are a no no until Zion’s bedtime :D
He’d like to think something as minuscule as an invite card wouldn’t cause him to have a sudden change of heart, so he has absolutely no explanation as to why he knocked on your door from the first place. The look of surprise was clear as day on your face when you swung the door open to see him stood there with his usual scowl at 7PM precisely, and you didn’t have the chance to formulate a greeting before Zion suddenly wedged himself past you with a cheerful, “Suku, you came!”
Sukuna would also like to think he didn’t enjoy the time he spent with you two that day. How he helped you two bake a sugar-free gingerbread house (seriously, he didn’t understand why you always made your sweets sugar free, but when he watched you give Zion his regular insulin shots before dinner, he clamps his mouth shut before asking). How he intentionally kept losing to Zion while playing word games since your son seemed to be at the peak of the mountains with every win. How he reluctantly agreed when Zion begged him to stay back for a Christmas movie marathon (You suggested to watch The Grinch instead of Home Alone, claiming Sukuna might resonate with the lime-green, pear shaped creature more. He doesn’t laugh, although he bites back a smile for the sake of maintaining his facade).
Yup, definitely didn’t enjoy it.
“I love Santa. He promised me he’ll make my wish come true last year, but I think he was really busy because it didn’t happen yet. I—“
“You met Santa?” Sukuna interrupts Zion, reaching for another pretzel and popping it in his mouth. Your mini duplicate shifts in his seat, his head moves in a firm nod, “Uh-huh. He and the elfs stopped by at the mall last year.” Zion replies confidently. You pat his small head with a smile, heart warming up to the way his doe eyes shimmer with ardour at the mentioned. Sukuna, on the other hand, snorts mockingly. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s just some old, fat guy dressed in a—“
Instinctively, your hand reaches over behind Zion to smack him on the arm with the back of your hand in warning, right before he had the chance to permanently change the trajectory of your son’s childhood. He gives you a harsh glare, “What?”
“Are you the grinch? Why would you say something like that?” You hiss angrily. Unlike you, Sukuna seemed nonchalant and unaware of the weight his words carried. He only rolls his hickory brown eyes dismissively, leaning back onto the couch with his arms folded behind his head. “Kids grow out of that shit anyway. Consider it a favour.” You open your mouth to argue back, fighting the urge to spew vitriol at him. But a shaky voice stops you beforehand. “Mama,” Zion cranes his neck to look at you. His eyes growing glossy and bottom lip wobbling. “Santa’s..not real?”
The dejected look on his face pulled at your heartstrings. A shard punctures through your gut when his eyes began to water. “No, no, no peanut. Sukuna was just joking.” You quickly reassure tenderly, pulling him to your lap as you run your thumb underneath his lower lashline to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill at any given minute. Your face hardens when your eyes dart to Sukuna, “Right?”
He kisses his teeth in disinterest. “Yeah, right. Santa’s real. Very real.” He replies sardonically. Zion turns to face him, still situated on your lap. To your concern, his bottom lip doesn’t stop quivering. “B-But you sai—“
“It was a lie. Adults lie.”
“So you’re lying now!” Zion cries out, sadness coursing down his cheeks in a flood of uncontrollable tears. His chin trembles and his hiccups are choked up. You refrain from telling him to stop crying, given it’s not ideal to dismiss a child’s feelings. You don’t want to deliver the message of suppressing his own emotions given how unhealthy that could be for him in the long run. Normally, you would intervene to deescalate the situation, but you think Sukuna deserves it anyway for spewing such comments to an eight year old without thought. Instead, you opt to rubbing Zion’s back comfortably as he unleashes his emotions on him, rightfully so. You mutter in his ear to not forget to breathe as you wipe his tears away with your thumb. It worked like every other time he threw a temper tantrum because his breathing rate seemed to stabilise with every rub you give him. Sukuna sits up, “Kid—“
“Liar liar pants on fire!” Zion accuses. The situation seemed inconsolable, and you momentarily consider asking Sukuna to leave before he speaks up more firmly. “He’s real because I know him.” You only look at him questionably, unsure where he was going with this. “I’ll even get him to come tomorrow, alright? Now quit whining.” Sukuna huffs, leaning back on the couch. Curiously, you look down to see Zion, who fell silent at the older man’s words. His face is still hot, but the tears have stopped long ago. To your surprise, he jumps off your lap and drags his feet towards Sukuna. He lifts his hand, which is formed into a fist with only his pinky pointed outwards. There’s a small glint in his doe eyes. His long eyelashes clamped together from previous tears. “Promise?”
Sukun’s pride told him not to interlock his pinky finger with him. But he’s succumbed into the look Zion gives him, and betrays himself by doing it anyway. In silent acquiescence, he sighs, “Promise.”
His promise seemed trivial to you, and you can’t help but grow worrisome that he might not even keep his word. You’ve considered taking Zion to the mall to meet ‘Santa’ in case Sukuna fails to show up with one. You weren’t sure why you had so much faith in him either given the short amount of time you spent together. Nevertheless, you receive a text from him the very next day, telling you to stay put until he’s done with his shift at work. Admittedly, you felt the nape of your neck heat up scorchingly when Sukuna asked to exchange numbers last night before retiring to his apartment. You didn’t question it at the time, although you couldn’t understand the need for it given you were right across the hall from each other.
When your living room bellowed with the sound of three consecutive knocks on your front door, your palm involuntarily grew clammy. Your eyes flicker to Zion momentarily, whose preoccupied with ensuring his blanket fort is assembled to perfection for his ‘special guest’. You don’t know what you expected when you peered through the peephole. Perhaps it was a figment of your imagination, or your mind playing tricks on you, because you simply couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of you when you swung the door open to see Sukuna dressed in a crimson red, white fur trimmed jacket with matching pants. His shell-pink hair’s hidden underneath a stocking hat of a similar shade, a snow-white beard concealing half of his sculpted face. Although you can still see the tattoos etched on his forehead and across the bridge of his nose.
“Ho, ho, ho.” Sukuna greets unenthusiastically. Too dumbfounded at his appearance, you stumble upon your own words, “Wh–What are you—“
“Talk later.” He mutters, before walking past you and into your apartment. Your eyes catch the small gift bag in his hands. And with your mind too clouded with shock, you barely notice Zion emerging from the living room to see both of you stood near the door. The little one only blinks, head tilted in curiosity as he examines ‘Santa Clause’ from head to toe. Involuntarily, you bit your knuckle to ease your nerves, and you could see Sukuna gulping from your periphery. There’s no possible way he couldn’t tell it who it was under the custom, there’s just no way he—
“Santa!” Zion exclaims, sprinting on his little feet towards the man in red. You give Sukuna a small push from behind, and he grunts at your actions before picking Zion up from under his armpits. “You really came!” He beams, completely astonished with his presence. Sukuna’s eyes dart to you momentarily, before securing his hold on your Zion. He clears his throat, “Of course I did, you’re on my nice list. I always give those who behave a surprise visit.”
“Then why didn’t you come through the chimney?” Zion cocks his head quizzically. You stifle a laugh, deciding to spare Sukuna the misery and actually intervene. “Peanut, don’t you wanna show Santa your fort?” You offer, patting his scalp. Your son nods enthusiastically, before urging Sukuna to put him down. Without a drop of hesitation, he’s quick to latch his hand with the older man before dragging him to the living room to show off his blanket fort, before urging him to join him inside the heap of white sheets decorated with fairy lights. You left the two males to their devices, biting back a smile every time you hear Zion’s giggle in the distance from where you stood in the kitchen. Never in a million years would you think someone as choleric as Sukuna to put in such effort to compensate for his comments last night, and the thought only proves more difficult for you to stifle a laugh when you remember the glum look on his face, paired with his choice of attire when he first stepped inside your apartment.
When you return to the living room moments later with a tray of food, you can hear sudden hushes erupting from the fort. Their conversation suddenly dies out at the sound of your approaching footsteps. “Knock knock.” You call out mischievously, your voice causes Zion to poke his head through the blankets with a gleaming grin. “Cookies and milk for you and Santa.” You present the tray. Your words seemed to summon Sukuna, because comically enough, he follows short, and pokes his head out too right next to Zion. “Can I get a beer?”
Your face playfully hardens at his sudden request, yet your mouth dries when his right eye suddenly drops into a wink. Flustered, you clear your throat as you avoid his gaze timorously, averting your attention to Zion who pries the blankets open to reveal the cloud of pillows scattered underneath them. “Mommy, join us!” He pats the empty space to his left eagerly. You open your mouth to decline politely, but Sukuna beats you to the punch before you have the chance to do so.
“Yeah mommy, join us,” The term is heavy on his tongue. He smirks, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, brown cinnamon eyes swirling with a gleam of deviltry. “We have plenty of space.” He urges. You’re unsure where the mystifying root of listlessness emerged from within Sukuna, but you find yourself hesitantly crawling inside the fort to join them anyway. “What were you guys talking about?” You question, giving Zion a playful nudge with your shoulder. “That’s a secret!” He exclaims, before giving you a sympathetic look. “Sorry mama, but Santa told me if I say my wish out loud to someone it won’t come true.”
“You made a wish?” Your eyebrows crease, averting your gaze to Sukuna for a split second. He gives you a curt nod—a silent indication that he would further explain at a different time.
Surrounded by the decorations of pine trees, tinsel and reindeers—the three of you indulge in long lasting conversations and never ending laughs. As the hours pass, you witness Sukuna’s facade strip away progressively. The usual scowl is long gone, replaced by a loop sided smirk every time he mischievously bites into the cookie in Zion’s hands whenever the boy looks away, eliciting a small giggle from you when your little one looks back to the much smaller biscuit with a dazed look of bewilderment. Sukuna was no longer the same man that slammed the door in your face after rejecting your sugar-free Swiss meringues, but was actually growing amiable with the time he spends in your company.
The night’s cut short when your son falls asleep, but he doesn’t fully succumb into his slumber until he presses a spontaneous kiss to the tip of Sukuna’s nose. He sleepily mutters with his eyes fluttered shut, “Thank you, Suku.”
Although his face was concealed with the false Santa beard, you don’t fail to pick up the rosey tinge that germinates across Sukuna’s face at Zion’s sudden display of affection. He looks at you bug-eyed, almost asking you for guidance on what to do next with the eight year old cushioned to his side. You only cradle your son into your arms, whispering to Sukuna that you’ll be gone momentarily to tuck him into bed. To your astonishment, you return to see Sukuna cleaning up the heap of blankets and pillows as he dissembles the fort. His hat and milky white beard long disregarded, red jacket draped over the couch to reveal the black tank top hugging his muscular chest.
“You don’t have to.” You rush to his side, taking the sheets out of his grasp. Your face heats up when you meet his gaze. His Tom Ford cologne dominates your nasal canal. “You’ve done enough just by showing up, really.” You trail off softly, folding the sheets before placing them on the couch near his jacket. He straightens his back, “It was nothing—“
“It was something.” You correct, gaze unyielding. A small smile touched upon the corners of your mouth, “You did more than you should’ve. I can’t thank you enough.”
Sukuna gulps, his eyes glazed with unfathomable emotion when they flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second. It doesn’t fly over your head. You only look down sheepishly, before picking up the tray and moving to the kitchen. Your ears perk up to the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, but your back continues to face him as you put away the empty plates and cups inside the dishwasher. “What did he wish for? I’m going to the mall tomorrow so I can start buying his gifts.” You enquire, shutting the dishwasher closed and grabbing a nearby towel to begin wiping away at the kitchen counter.
“It’s not something you can buy.”
His response catches you off guard. Surely the pay checks deposited into your bank account thanks to your your corporate job didn’t provide the utmost luxury, but it was enough for the basic necessities you and your son need to live a comfortable life. Warily, you slowly look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaned against the kitchen island with his arms crossed over his chest. “What..are you insinuating?”
He sighs, unfolding his arms before his hands grip the edge of the island. “I’m saying it’s not an item you can just wrap up and put it under a tree, it’s..” Something seemed to be holding him back from telling you what it is, but he allows his conscious to win when he sees the look of concern flashing in your eyes. “He asked for you to stop crying in your room before you sleep.” You heart drops to your stomach. Your fingers freeze when you stammer, “He..he can hear that?”
“Probably if that’s what he wished for.” Sukuna replies. He takes note of the way you immediately downcast your eyes to the towel in your hands. Lips pursed as you fiddle with the fabric in shame. You involuntarily gulp when you hear his voice once more. “Look, it’s none of my business but..” He begins, “You should start looking out for yourself. Not just for his sake, but yours too.” Sukuna advices. His cocoa eyes are varnished with sympathy, although he remains composed, and manages to maintain a neutral expression.
A dry chuckle reverberates in your chest, eyes still entranced with the small threads of fabric poking out of the kitchen towel. Your tongue pokes through your cheek as you blink away threatening tears. “It’s just..it gets hard sometimes, y’know? Zion’s smart, he doesn’t even ask about his dad and—“ You pause to let out a shaky breath before looking up to meet Sukuna’s gaze. “I can’t even tell if I’m doing a good job or not.”
The road to motherhood was no easy journey; receiving inconvenient stares from strangers for nursing a crying newborn, to collecting food stamps and breastfeeding Zion in public restrooms because society has ruthlessly shamed women like you for simply feeding their child in public. You’ve come a long way building yourself up from scratch to provide a promising future for your son. Although it was inevitable that you’d come across a few speed bumps that would ultimately lead to you confining yourself in your room after Zion’s bedtime, your own pillow soaked with dolorous tears.
“You’re a good mum, [Name].” Sukuna replies immediately. His tone flat and strict. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.” His words struck a cord in your heart. You shake your head in denial when you answer quietly, “You don’t mean that.”
“Yeah I do, you’re like superwoman.” You couldn’t help the small laugh erupting from your mouth, yet your breath hitches in your throat when he suddenly takes a few steps towards you to decrease the distance. A surprised yelp escapes your lips when he grabs the hood part of your jumper over your head. He chuckles, “Wear your cape proudly.”
When you look up to meet his gaze, he can’t help but scan your face studiously given the close proximity. The eye lines that resembled the veins of deep ivy leaves stretched to join the dark bags underneath, ones you attempted to shield away with a layer of concealer. It only signified the restless hours you spend carrying your child on your back through quicksand on his voyage to growth. Sukuna undoubtedly found it absurd that you would even second guess your parenting skills from the first place. “Y’know..if you need help with anything, I don’t mind lending a hand.” He found himself offering as he scratches the back of his neck. You tilt your head quizzically, your eyes glint with a look of amusement. “Help?” You repeat.
“Yeah,” He clears his throat. You don’t fail to notice the way he attempts to discretely puff out his chest in a dominant manner. “Like changing your lightbulb. That kind of thing.” Sukuna elaborates lowly. Your teeth sinks into your bottom lip to prevent a smile from growing. His eyes flicker to your mouth once more. “Did I happen to give the impression that I can’t change my own lightbulb?” You retort teasingly.
“Never,” Sukuna chuckles, “you’re superwoman, remember?” He gives you a playful flick on your forehead. The corner of his lip curves upwards just a little bit, but enough for a familiar warmth to travel through your veins. But to your dismay, your interaction’s cut short when he says: “I should go, it’s getting late.”
You only nod in understanding, concealing the sheer of disappointment on your face with a small smile. “Good night, [Name].” He whispers, as if afraid the walls might hear and pick up on his sudden change of persona compared to when you first knocked on his door with a container of cupcakes in hand. “Good night.” You found yourself whispering back, watching him pivot on his heel to step outside your kitchen. You place your hand over your chest to attempt to control your speeding heart rate, but your attempts are futile. You suddenly chuck the kitchen towel in your hand onto the counter to catch up to him.
“Sukuna?” You call out softly once you step out of the kitchen. You see his hand already reaching for the door, his red jacket slung over his shoulder. He turns to look at you tiredly, his rosey hair slack against his forehead from the long hours of wearing his Santa hat. “Thank you.” You say. He’s unsure whether if you’re thanking him for his actions tonight, or for his words of encouragement from earlier. Nevertheless, his mouth stretches, only this time it’s not his signature, cunning smirk.
For the first time, he wholeheartedly smiles at you.
You’d like to believe you’re an attractive woman—perhaps not someone that would win Miss Universe by default, but you were confident enough to know that you can easily score someone if you jump back into the dating scene with the correct set of tools in your arsenal.
With Zion away to his monthly sleepover at the Fushiguro’s again, your co-worker jumped at the first opportunity to set you up on a blind date with an acquaintance of hers. Although you were reluctant to agree at first, you trusted her judgement when she claimed you two would click off instantly. You’ve planned your night to the T; he would pick you up at 10PM for drinks at a hotel bar and he would return you home two hours later for a quick fuck—the perfect way to release the sexual frustration bottled up within you. Surely, you did not expect to meet prince charming himself tonight, but if sitting through two hours of tequila sunrise and a one sided-conversation meant you’d finally get to relieve yourself sexually, then so be it.
That was until the clock struck twelve, and it is then you realised you’ve been ditched.
The oyster white mini-dress you were lucky to get your hands on before it ran out of stock seemed to have gone to waste, right along with the diamond earrings hung from your ears like icicles and the nude makeup you’ve spent the last two hours perfecting.
An absolute waste, and you were seethed beyond words.
Your heeled foot was tapping in a staccato rhythm on the floor as your eyes kept impatiently darting to the ticking clock hung on the wall. Your manicured nail grazes the rim of the wine glass in your hand. With a sudden huff, you stand up from your seat on the couch before stomping to your bedroom. You were clearly taking your frustrations out on the inanimate object as you yanked your underwear drawer open, digging through the heaps of bras and panties for a certain purple object.
If your date wasn’t showing up, then you’d just have to take matters into your own hands.
Clearly, the universe was not on your side tonight. Because conveniently enough, once you plugged the charger into the socket for your vibrator, the usual green LED light that would indicate it’s been switched on didn’t appear according to your expectations. “No, no, no.” You mutter frustratingly, letting out a groan of annoyance as you pulled it out and blew air into the charger plug before sticking it into the socket once more. Nevertheless, the vibrator remains dead. Out of pure exasperation, you couldn’t help but gulp down on your Pinot Noir until not a single drop of red is left.
The familiar reality of spending another night alone under the sheets was a bitter one to swallow. Tasting like a foul medicine that soaked through your tastebuds as you let out a childish whine. You’ve been waiting for this day for months, been waiting to get dicked down for months. You think you deserve that much after involuntarily being celibate for so long given you had a child to care for. Perhaps you were naïve for entrusting your coworker and sacrificing the one night you have for yourself, or maybe you were just simply unlucky. Because the odds were never in your favour whenever you choose to flip the two sided coin.
“Y’know..if you need help with anything, I don’t mind lending a hand.”
At first, you couldn’t help but belt out a laugh at the obscure thought that suddenly occurred to you. You tell yourself that maybe you should lay off the alcohol even though you’re only on your first drink, but when your eyes flickered to the charger cable that refused to work, along with the combined effect of the ache between your thighs that desperately required attention; a spurt of boldness from an unknown source suddenly surged through your body. It didn’t even take a minute for you to ponder over your thoughts before the alcohol getting soaked up in your bloodstream has you suddenly charging out of your apartment.
You really shouldn’t be doing this; disturbing your neighbour because you were simply too horny to tend to your own needs. You’ve only just recently managed to get him to warm up to you, and there’s a very slim chance he’ll indulge into your wishes. If anything, he’ll probably scoff at your request before slamming the door shut on your face. But before you know it, you find yourself stood in front of Sukuna’s apartment. It only took a minute or so before you hear the lock clicking when you leave two knocks on his door. Dressed in a white t-shirt and grey sweets, your eyes drink in his disheveled salmon pink hair when he opens the door. A pang of guilt sinks into you when he rubs his eye with the palm of his hand, face scrunched up confusingly at your presence. He opens his mouth to speak groggily, his voice hoarse. “[Name]? What’s wron—“
“Do you want to have sex with me?” You blurt without a thought. Your words seemed to have washed away all traces of sleep because his chestnut eyes widen, his pupils narrowing to the point it seemed to flee from the expanding whites of his eyes. You don’t fail to notice how the hand gripping the doorknob tightens so suddenly, his knuckles flushed a daisy white.
Static. That’s all you can hear. Howbeit, his eyes narrow into slits once he processed what you’ve just said, “What?”
Not a jot of pride was left within you when you began to blether, “I just had a glass of wine and even though I’m not a lightweight I still ramble a lot when I drink, y’know? Which is why I’m here making a fool out of myself but—“ The usual stoicity growing on his face causes the tone of your voice to cease insecurely. With a sigh of defeat, your shoulders slump. “I’m horny and I’m lonely..and I’m desperate.”
Sukuna blinks at you, brows knitted in a frown. Your rant only confirmed his suspicions as to where your son got his tendency to ramble from. Although the silence that fell between you two was deafening no doubt, your heart began to involuntarily do somersaults as he only continues to glare at you with visible irritation. You found it difficult to comprehend as to why he would be angry at your request. Stunned? As expected. But vexed? It was a mystery to you. Surely, no man would turn down an offer to sex with no strings attached?
“You’re drunk,” Sukuna bluntly adds to your list of adjectives. You don’t miss the way his eyes shamelessly rake your bare legs, momentarily stopping at the flesh of your thighs where the hem of your mini-dress ends. “I’ll do us both a favour and pretend this never happened. Go home.” He states tiredly, refusing to meet your eyes as he attempts to cut the conversation short by closing the door. Stupefied, you suddenly slap your palm against the wooden door to keep it from closing. His head snaps up towards you when you simultaneously stick your foot in the doorway. “I’m not that drunk, plus you did say if I need any help I can come to you, right?” You breathe out unrelentingly, desperation laced with your words.
“Yeah, something like changing your lightbulb not canoodling.” He retorts stiff-backed. You furrow your eyebrows at his choice of words. Had it not been the true nature as to why you’re stood at his apartment door, you would’ve childishly laughed at how Zion’s vocabulary was clearly rubbing off on Sukuna. Too engrossed in your own needs, you don’t notice the close proximity between you two. He restrains himself with every fibre of his being to not let his greedy eyes wander to the swell of your breasts that is further accentuated thanks to your skin tight dress.
Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose frustratingly, eyes screwed shut to collect his thoughts before he defeatedly meets your gaze. “Where’s your kid anyway shouldn’t you be taking care of him?” He attempts to steer the subject elsewhere. “He’s at a sleepover.” You deadpanned, “I got set up on a blind date and they ditched so..” Sukuna could sense the brief disappointment from your countenance, but you quickly recompose when you straighten your back confidently. “Look, I’m not asking you to play house or father my kid here.” You begin, before boldly taking another step towards him. Gulping, you don’t hesitate to maintain the intensity of your gaze. “I’m asking you..to be my distraction for the night, can you do that?”
And God did he want to. His heart wanted to say yes but his head told him no. Ever since the day you moved in across the hall with a crying three year old in your arms and there was an instant attraction. All the women he’d blindly lead to his bed paled compared to you, his mind congested with only images of your face as he pounded into them from behind. Albeit, he didn’t want to jump into the first opportunity to have you in every single way he shamelessly fantasised about. He doesn’t want to act on an impulse when it comes to you. And to be quite frank, Sukuna himself isn’t sure if it would be ideal to take things a further step with you. Although your son has considerably warmed up to his presence, there’s also the possibility he might not appreciate a complete stranger suddenly meddling with their daily routine. Sukuna’s answer completely relied on the fact that he didn’t want to disturb the already established harmony of your home.
He sighs, “I don’t like repeating myself. Trust me, I have a better use for my mouth.” Your lips slightly part at the image that involuntarily makes its way to your mind, but he seems unaffected with the gravity of his words. “Go home, [Name].” He asserts.
You didn’t know what was more humiliating; that you’re rejected when you finally choose to indulge into the hubristic folly of attempting to sleep with someone, or that he didn’t want you. Unforeseeably, you were hurt more from the latter than the fact you’ve been ditched by your date tonight. “I..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so pushy it’s just—God what was I even thinking?” You self criticise shakily, before meeting Sukuna’s gaze with a blank stare. “Of course you wouldn’t sleep with me, I’m a mum.” You plainly point out. His rejection was clearly the hair breadth away from you completely dissolving your composure as you lost all sense of your words. “[Name]—“
“That’s all I do! Because when you look at me that’s all you see, right? Right?” Your eyes were in a frenzy as you press, ignoring the clear look of concern that painted your neighbour’s face. “You see the diaper changing, the boogers, the snot. The stupid sugar free fucking cupcakes!”
“Lower your voice.” He hisses, his hand immediately gripping your wrist in warning as he pulled you to his chest. His head turns left and right alarmingly to ensure there’s no one to eavesdrop on your conversation. You don’t pay any mind to his sudden change in demeanour. Rather, you snatch your wrist out of his grasp with a huff, before impulsively pulling down on the neckline of your dress to reveal the black lace bra that cuffed your breasts. “Look! I even wore my sexy lingerie for tonight, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve wore those?” You don’t give him a chance to reply, and you surely don’t comment on the way he shamelessly ogles at your chest with visible shock, his Adam’s apple bopping in his throat.
“Five years. And I haven’t had sex in over two years and God forbid a single mother uses a vibrator to appease her sexual urges because the fucking charger stopped working!” You whisper angrily, letting go of your neckline. Sukuna’s eyes travel back to your face. His lips were pursed in icy contempt, although his eyes were impenetrable. With a sigh, your spine hunched defeatedly. “I know I’m not as pretty as the girls you bring home—“
“Don’t you ever say that.” He snaps, jaw clenched. “You think if I didn’t have such strong restraints I wouldn’t have gave into my urges and fucked you long ago?” Your mouth dries, and your boldness is suddenly washed away at his confession. “W-What?” You squeak out.
“What.” He mocks, cocking his head to the side with his eyes slanted. “You wouldn’t have knocked on my door if you knew about the thoughts I’ve had of you. But you just keep coming back.” His hands unexpectedly came to wrap around your waist, pulling you to his chest securely. The action causes your breath to hitch in your throat, however, the sudden close in proximity allows you to study his inscrutable expression. It seemed that he was fighting an internal battle from succumbing in any second now. “When you came with those stupid cupcakes..” He lists, eyes entranced with your painted lips, before meeting your eyes in an unrelenting stare. “Or when you took the bin out in your granny underwear.”
“You saw that?!” You shriek in horror. But Sukuna continues either way, “Ever since you moved in and I couldn’t help but think of how you’d look underneath me, begging me for more even when it gets too much for you.” His grip on you tightens at the erotic thoughts. “Anyone would fail to keep their hands off you.” His words confounded you in its entirety. He grips your chin softly, tilting your head slightly as you look up to him wide eyed. “You are pretty, incredibly sexy too.” Sukuna assures. Somehow, you manage to find it within you to utter a word out. Bashfully, you softly ask, “Even in my granny underwear?”
His lips suddenly stretch into a wide smile, erupting a soft chuckle. His hand moves from your chin to cup your cheek in his palm. “Even in your granny underwear.” He repeats quietly with affirmation.
When you mirror his dumbstruck smile, he doesn’t hesitate to slant his lips over yours. You savour the softness of his lips as he cups your face with both hands. With your eyes fluttered shut, your knees turned into jello when his tongue slithered into your mouth, the texture of his metal piercing swiping over your wet muscle caused your heart to skip a beat. He claimed your mouth with such intensity and hunger it elicited a throaty sound from you. The smell of your perfume grew hypnotic beyond reason as he drank you in, before pulling away to suck on your bottom lip.
“Fuck, get in here.” He breathes into your mouth, eagerly pulling you inside his apartment and kicking the door shut. You don’t get the opportunity to observe his living room because he’s quick to press his lips against yours hastily, his hands finding their way to cradle your face once more. Parting your lips, you’re greeted with another intrusion by his tongue as he walks you backwards. You nearly stumble in your heels, your mouths separating with a quiet pop as you smile against his lips.
Too lost into the kiss, you moan into his mouth once your lower back suddenly met a cold, hard edge. Unable to control the yelp that erupts from you when he suddenly hoists you up onto the surface, your eyes snap open to see he had placed you on the island of his open space kitchen. His lips move to the juncture of your neck as he nuzzled himself between your legs. Sighing in content, you throw your head back to grant him more access. His yanks your heels off impatiently with your lips locked, yet you can’t help the shudder that runs up your spine when you feel his calloused hands sneaking up your thighs, gripping the waistband of your thong underneath your dress. He fights the urge from ripping it off completely. “Y’know..” He chuckles against your skin. “I didn’t think you’d be so straightforward.”
“Well I’m—hmph. I-I’m not exactly one for subtleties.” You mutter absentmindedly, your words running in together when he suctions on your neck and right above your pulse point. The mild stinging sensation causes you to involuntarily grip the roots of his pink locks. “That makes the two of us.” Sukuna retorts, pressing a kiss over the love bite before retracting from your neck. He simultaneously pulls your thong down your legs. The action only causes you to instinctively clamp your legs shut as realisation of what’s about to occur dawned on you.
Sukuna only yanks you closer to the edge of the island, arms wrapped around your waist. His lips meet yours again, and you found yourself melting into his kisses all over again. “You want me to stop?” He mumbles against your mouth, hands snaking up your thighs tortuously slow. “Hm?” His actions were so minuscule yet so rousing. It’s unfathomable how your mind’s already hazy and he barely started giving you the attention you ached for. You clench your thighs together even harder when his lips brush against yours. “No.” You breathe out, “Don’t stop.”
All of your senses unfurled when he crouches down slowly to level with your sex. He maintains imperative eye contact when he pries your legs open to reveal the wetness pooling between your thighs. “Pretty pussy..” He coos in admiration, your lips glistening underneath the kitchen light. His mouth finds its home on your skin once more, constructing a roadmap of feathered kisses from right above your knee and up to your inner thighs. You involuntarily flinch when his mouth neared your sex, your nerves suddenly overcoming you. With a shaky breath, you screw your eyes shut and tilt your head backwards when you feel his two digits separating your lips. His hot breath gives rise to the tiny elevations belonging to goosebumps all over your body. “Hey.” He lowly calls out. “Watch me.”
Reluctantly, you flutter your eyes open to see the kitchen ceiling light, before averting your gaze downwards to see your dress hunched up and his head between your legs. Sukuna’s hungry cocoa eyes are transfixed on your face only. Unblinkingly, he sticks his tongue out; flat across chin and revealing the silver barbell pierced through his muscle before he gives you a long lick upwards.
Your body reacted to him instinctively. Your jaw falling slack before you threw your head back. A hand squeezes your hip in warning, and you shamefully obey his unspoken command when you look down to see him looking up to you through his black eyelashes, his mouth anchored to your cunt as he slithered his pierced tongue around your pulsating clit. Your mouth falls ajar into a shaky moan. You don’t dare break eye contact, the sight of him on his knees and savouring you whole gives you a surge of adrenaline rush that has your heart thumping in your chest like a ticking time bomb. Your hand unconsciously fisted his shell-pink hair at the crown, hips bucking involuntarily into his mouth. He moans shamelessly into your cunt, devouring you incessantly as he buried his face further into the crux of your thighs. “Oh my..god.”
His tongue must have a mind of its own, because the way it snakes past the muscles surrounding your hole and begins to flick the insides of your clenching walls has your legs quivering beyond measure. The tip of his nose is pressed on your clit. You guide his head further into your cunt, your lips forming an ‘O’ and eyebrows drawn in when he alternates between languid licks and swirls of his tongue. “Right th-there—ah!” The wet suctioning sounds ring in your ears right along with your erratic heartbeat. Your eyes zeroed in on his until he fluttered them shut to drink in the tangy taste of your vulva. A muffled groan suppressed in his throat as he began to bob his head vertically, lapping up your never-ending arousal.
You’re not exactly sure if it was because you haven’t had someone give you oral in a long time, or whether if it’s due to Sukuna’s skilful tongue that’s sending the increased blood flow to your genitals, but you suddenly experience the familiar coil in your lower abdomen when it’s barely been five minutes since he put his mouth on you. “W-Wait, Sukuna I—“ You stammer, scrambling to pull him off. But he stubbornly grips your hips tighter and nuzzles further into your sex with a low grunt in gluttony. The constant suctioning and flicking of his tongue on your beating clit caused your impending orgasm to take over all of your senses, your thighs quivering around his head as you cried out in pleasure. “Oh...oh!”
With lips parted to let out quiet pants, you watch Sukuna slowly pull away from your cunt. A string of your own slick attached between his bottom lip and your sex. Gulping, you stare at him bewilderedly as he stands up. His cheeks flushed with a rosey tinge and eyes as wide as yours. “Did you just..?” Your skin grew clammy, mouth dry. You blink at him, before averting your gaze in complete embarrassment, refusing to meet his eyes as you clamped your legs shut and pulled your dress down to cover what’s left of your modesty.
He didn’t even get the chance to stick his fingers in before you came into his mouth.
Before you could utter a word, your voice catches in your throat when he suddenly grabs your legs to pin point them around his waist. You understood his intentions when he lifts you off the kitchen island, all four limbs wrapping around him securely. Sukuna’s lip curves upwards into a mischievous smirk, “That was hot.” he confesses. “Don’t be embarrassed, pretty.”
“I’m not.” You quickly deny, the arms around his neck tighten when he begins to walk you both to where you assume to be his bedroom. Your heart rate accelerates. “I’m just—“
“Nervous?” He finishes, arching a pierced brow. Sukuna takes your silence as an indication to continue. He pats your bum, “Don’t worry, mommy. I’ll take real good care of you”
Whatever amount of regret that seeped through your bloodstream when you knocked on his door fifteen minutes ago seemed to wash away at his words. He struts into his bedroom with you in his arms, laying you down on his navy sheets before sitting up on his knees to take his shirt off.
The virgules of obsidian pigmented on his caramel skin are uncloaked for only your eyes to drink in. The twin bold strokes running vertically down his muscle-bound stomach join the dark happy trail right below his belly button. Involuntarily gulping at the barbells pierced through both of his pink nipples, you instinctively mimic his stance; sitting up on your knees to grab his chiselled face in your hands for a breathless kiss. He responds immediately, hands sneaking up your back to pull down the zipper of your dress. Too spellbound with his mouth, you don’t flinch when he pulls your dress down to reveal you clad in just your bra. With your lips pressing kisses from his mouth to his throat and chest, it was inevitable for your mouth to wrap itself around his pierced bud, eliciting a sigh of content from him when the tip of your tongue gives the accessory a single flick. His hand moves to cradle the back of your skull. You freeze in place when he suddenly grabs your wrists once you attempt to reach for his crotch.
“Let me.” You insist, hands reaching for the waistband of his grey joggers. He shakes his head, pulling you up to meet his gaze before pecking your painted lips. “I get to take care of you tonight.” His hands reach for the bra cuffing your breasts, effortlessly unhooking it to reveal your bosom. With his gaze dipped to your décolletage, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his naked chest, your legs wrap around his waist as you seat yourself on his lap. Hands going up to weave through his hair when he greedily suckles on your perked nipple. Your body grew responsive, arching your back into his face as you shamelessly grind your went cunt onto his clothed crotch, his growing bulge poking you through the material. “Sukuna,” You whine, “please..”
“Tell me what you want.” He demands, laying you down on the sheets, your head rests right above his pillow when he hovers over you dominantly. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you right now.” Sukuna breathed out, arms caging you. His knuckles flushed white as they grip the navy sheets into his fists. “I want—“ Your breath hitches when he reaches for the waistband of his joggers, pulling it down to reveal his throbbing cock. “you.” You finish, your hands clutching at his forearms desperately. “Wanna feel you everywhere. Please.”
“Want me to fuck you?” Sukuna presses. His lecherous, chestnut eyes bore into yours with raw intensity. His hand grips the base of his cock before gliding it through your wet folds torturously. The action causes a small whimper to tumble from your lips. “Want me to stretch you out with my cock you feel it for days? Is that what you want?” He grits out. In a daze, you nod fervently with your eyes half-lidded, lips parted when the crown of his dick nudges your pulsating clit.
His curses under his breath, arms reaching for your hips in a tight grip before turning you on your side, his hand suddenly coming down to smack your bum. A quiet gasp escapes your mouth as he repositions you; raising your top leg to rest your calf over his shoulder whilst straddling your bottom thigh. Both of your swollen lips part into low moans once the head of his cock pushes past the ring of muscles surrounding your hole. Your walls stretch to accommodate his veiny girth as you swallow him entirely. “Goddamn,” He groans in disbelief, hugging your leg to his chest. Your cunt cushions him with warmth and softness as he pushes in all of his inches. “Oh, feel that..”
Your eyebrows hunch together when he huffs out a heavy breath. “Jesus baby,” Your heart jumps at the endearing pet name. “When was the last time you got fucked properly?” Sukuna quirks a pierced brow, his hand leaving your leg momentarily to slick his hair back. “I don’t know..” You answer shakily, attempting to shift your position but his hands hold you in place. “Been too long to remember.” You mutter embarrassingly.
“That’s a shame..” Sukuna whispered apathetically. You gulp when he feathers kisses on your calf, his cock stills inside you. “Gonna take care of you, gonna give you what you need.” He swears before beginning to plunge into your soaping cavern. You moan with laboured breaths. Your heartbeat reverberating in your head when he withdraws his hips before slamming back into you continuously. Relentless, desperate. His thrusts send you into a frenzy, your hand frantically reaching for something to grab on when you shamelessly moan out his name with your eyes screwed shut. “Opening up so well for me. You’re gonna ruin my sheets.” You hear him hiss, the ridges along his length licks at every fingerbreadth inside your canal.
“S’full..so good I—“ You cry out before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to quell the loudness of your whines. But your attempts are proven futile when he plows into you harder, your jaw falling slack from the rigor of his thrusts. “Good girl.” Sukuna grunts. “My good girl.” His praises only enhances then tension of your libido, the wet sloshing of his dick delving in and out of your cunt ringing in your head. His ears perk up to your high pitched moans, the calloused hand around your leg repositions it to place your toe in his mouth, his pierced tongue swirls around the digit and eliciting a surprised gasp from you. Your own sweat glues you to him. The slaps of sticky skin restrains your breathing, right along with the sweet pleasure inflicted on you. “You like that?” Sukuna rasps with a lazy smirk. “You like being my good girl?”
“Y-Yes—!” You wail, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. “God, yes.” You could feel the leg over his shoulder growing flimsy. Your breasts bounce with every thrust when you look at him through your wet lashes. Tattoos glistening, pecs flexing. Rosey locks flat across his forehead from down pouring sweat. The mere sight of him pushed you over the edge and into a state of euphoric haze.
“How are you this wet?” He groans with furrowed eyebrows, arm muscles contracting due to the hold he has on you. “You love my dick that much?” He pants. You nodded weakly, your head aimlessly lolling side to side. Sukuna seemed unsatisfied with your lack of vocalness, because his eyebrows pinch in together in evident displeasure. “Tell me.” He lowly growls, slowing down his tempo to roll his hips agonisingly slow, teasing you with shallow thrusts. The vice-like grip on your leg tightens, his short fingernails digging into your skin to form small crescent shapes. “Tell me how much you love it.”
With a desperate whimper, you attempt to undulate your hips for more friction, but you concede defeat when he refuses to give you what you ached for. “L-Love it s’much, Sukuna. I love it.” You say shakily. He curses under his breath, a flare of brute evident in his strong thrusts when he resumes to his unrelenting rhythm. Firm gonads slapping against your wet slit as he fucked you into oblivion. His movements are carefully orchestrated to kiss all of your sweet spots. His cock buried deep to a hilt, pelvic bone slamming against your sore lips with every thrust.
“There it is.” Sukuna throws his head back with a breathy laugh, before meeting your half lidded eyes. “That’s my spot, isn’t it?” You can’t formulate a response. Only individual, soprano moans as your bottom lip wobbles at the familiar coil forming in your lower abdomen. Eyebrows creased, fingers shaking. Chest heaving. To your dismay, the look of erotica you give him causes him to slow down his movements again, taking a minute or so to absorb the desperation laced in your visage.
“Suku?” Your quiet voice snaps him out his reverie, and he catches the worried expression you have on when you sit up an one elbow. Your hand reaches to cup his cheek, but he grabs your wrist before you have the chance to do so. “Don’t look at me like that.” He breathes, irises turning into a deep shade of umber. “If you keep looking at me like that then so help me God..“ He swears to himself with his eyes screwed shut, refusing to meet your gaze. “Wha—“
He loses all forms of self restraints. Unexpectedly pushing you down, back flat against the mattress and hovering over you with your leg still anchored over his shoulder. Your other leg follows suit, your feet in the air and both knees now pressed against your chest from the close proximity between you and him. Hands squeezing your hips, fingers digging into the flesh; licentious behaviour defined in his strokes as he begins to plummet into your soaking cavern with voracity. “Nngh, Sukuna!” You moan piercingly. “S-Stop—Oh, fuck. Suku—!”
“Yeah,” He growls. “Just like that. Sing for me.” The man on top of you urges with short, jagged breaths. Your walls spasm and contract around him, reaching the top of your crescendo but you don’t want it to end here. You found yourself greedily aching for more of him, more so when he presses an open mouthed kiss to your lips in an attempt to silence your noises. “M-More.” You beg with a whimper, struggling to kiss him back. “Suku, please. Want it deep-deeper—!”
He’s quick to plunge into you without a second thought, the delicious curve of his cock pursuing an unreachable terminus deep into your cunt. His ministrations grew faster, the murkiness of desire dominating the room along with the sound of skin slapping and exchanged heavy pants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Sukuna chants under his breath. Wet, sloppy kisses painted on your neck and shoulder as he nuzzles his head into the juncture of your neck. “So close, gonna make me cum so hard.” He confesses. Inevitable scratches painted his back when you wrap your arms around his broad frame to hug him closer to your sweaty form. You gasp when your abdomen tightens, clitoris growing sensitive. You urge him to meet your gaze, lifting your head from the pillow to lean your forehead against his. Noses pressed against one another. Your neck strains, but you don’t care when he begins to constantly pecks your lips. “I’m gonna..M’gonna—“
“You’re gonna cum.” He confirms for you, your breaths mingling. He brings two digits into his mouth, holding you captive in a determined stare as he coats his fingers with his own spit before reaching for the sensitive nubbin of flesh hidden between your sticky folds. He rubs your engorging clitoris with merciless circles. The muscles in your vagina contract in a rhythmical way. “Do it. Cum all over me—That’s my girl, gimme all of it. Such a good girl f’me.”
You throw your head back with a loud moan, eyes screwed shut when you convulse around him, walls pulsating as your own arousal escapes down your inner thighs. You feel the wet muscle of his tongue running up from your throat to your jawline, licking up the delectable beads of sweat that rained down your hot skin before gripping your chin to meet his mouth in a sloppy kiss that has your mixed salivas smudged around your mouths. He keeps your lips locked together as he slows down his thrusts, his nostrils flared and eyes closed as he savours the taste of your tongue. “I’m not done with you yet.” He mutters into your mouth.
Your body quivers underneath him like a maple leaf on an autumn evening. The soreness of your legs bloom when he carefully flips you both with you on top, his back flat against the mattress. His cock remains etched inside of you. Rough hands reach to massage your breasts and roll your nipples between his fingers. You whine with trembling lips, your own hands clasping on top of his. His wicked tongue pokes out to wet his lips, cheeks embellished with rubescent dust. “You think you can ride me?”
It was a rhetorical question, one that you cannot find it within yourself to say no to. You nod with a small gulp, not trusting your shaky voice to speak. “Yeah? Turn around for me, baby.” He instructs softly, gripping your hips and shifting you around. His cock leaves your cunt for a split second once you lift yourself on your heels to give him your back, but he’s quick to insert himself inside of you. He bends one of his knees, and you use his limb as an anchor to hold onto. You adjust yourself on his dick before beginning to circle your hips and slowly rocking back and forth.
Your mouth fall ajar into a wordless moan, eyes fluttered shut as you attempt to stabilise your breathing rate. The rhythm you’ve established with your movements causes a sense of euphoria to spread like wildfire through your veins, coaxing you into calmness compared to the rush of adrenaline from moments earlier. “Mhm, that’s it.” Sukuna encourages lowly, a small moan escaping his mouth. His hands move from your hips to grab your ass, short nails digging into your hot skin. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”
His dick strokes every inch of your soaking walls. You take your time orchestrating the circles you’re drawing with your hips, before finding the courage to shift you weight evenly between both heels to begin bouncing on his cock. He hisses from behind you, his toes curl. Cocoa eyes entranced with how the fat of your ass ripples every time you drop yourself back onto his lap. Your swollen lips glistening with your own arousal. Your body is lucent with sweat. Wet squelching sounds of your own cunt pulsating around his throbbing cock dominates the room, right along with your entangled moans that are absorbed by the surrounding walls of his bedroom.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl.” Sukuna pants, his hand unexpectedly slaps your rear before squeezing the flesh into the palm of his hand. You shamelessly mewl in response. His encouragement urges you to do more, but you struggle to maintain manoeuvrability. You opt to alternating between slow swirls with your hips to vigorous bouncing. Your ass smacks down his upper thighs into a particularly harder thrust, his cock plunges into a deeper angle and elicits a strained cry from you. Large hands move to grip your hips once more, he keeps you anchored to his lap, guiding your movements as he coordinates a rocking rhythm that sends you both into a frenzy. Your pelvic muscles contract as you squeeze around him. “Shit—goddamn. Keep goin’ baby. Ugh, fuck yes.” Sukuna sighs, head thrown back into the pillow in ecstasy.
Your hips buck, vibrating back and forth as your nails dig into his knee. Your own fingers snake to in between your thighs to stimulate your clit, and you can feel your third orgasm of the night close to washing over you body in rivulets, but a sudden gasp of surprise jolts you out of your lustful trance. Your eyes snap open when Sukuna suddenly pulls you off his cock, before dragging your ass towards his face. Your hands instinctively grab his thighs for momentum, your body laid flat on top and aligned opposite to his with his genitals facing you. With your knees planted on either side of his shoulders; his mouth latches itself onto your cunt, large hands spreading your asscheeks apart as he buries his face into your sex. Your eyes screw shut, a broken moan erupts from your trembling lips at the intrusion of his tongue as it conquered the depths of your soaking canal—hungry, consuming.
His hand smacks down your already sore ass again. “Don’t be selfish, put my cock in your mouth.” He mutters lowly, hot breath fanning against your skin before he resumes to eating you out. You whimper in response. Your shaking hand grips the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth once you curl your lips over your teeth and attempt to take in as much as you can. Your knees are wobbly around him, his tongue probed into your entrance as it laves up every drop of your luscious fluids. His mouth slurps onto your juices when he moves to your clit, giving you a hard suck that evokes a muffled whine around his cock from you.
His sweet torture doesn’t relent for a second. His eyes catch the way your anus clench around seemingly nothing, and he drags his tongue into a broad stroke from your clit and up to the fluttering hole, flicking it with the tip of his tongue before suctioning into a sloppy kiss. Your eyes snap open with a quelled moan, your saliva drenching his dick and the sheets below. His unexpected actions causes you to push your ass back further into his face. Sukuna groans at how responsive you grew to his touches, his grip on your bum tightens. He pulls his sinful mouth away for a millisecond to rasp out through gritted teeth, “Just like that. Ride my tongue baby, ride my fuckin’ tongue.”
The vibrations of his hoarse voice causes you to clench your thighs around him, his breath hitches when you hollow your cheeks around him—tongue flat against the underside of his dick before you began to bob your head up and down. You can feel every ridge of his erect cock in your mouth as you fondle with his firm gonads—heavy with semen that threatened to spill into your mouth if you continue your actions.
Your aroma invades his nasal canal, his swollen mouth is back to sucking and licking vigorously onto your sensitive clitoris, his thumb rubbing torturous circles on your wet anus. Your entire behind is glistened with a mixture of saliva and cum, balls of spit rolling down from your asshole and coating your swollen lips. The myriad sounds of you gargling around his manhood, right along with the slurping of your sex as he licks you up causes your perfervid bodies to tremble uncontrollably due to the inundate of pleasure. Your stomach is in turmoil, lower abdomen muscles tightening. The prurience of his tongue sends your body into fits as he drinks you up into overstimulation.
Your high pitched moans increase in intensity when you reach your vertex, your hands gripping his thigh as you gush into his mouth. Your wetness drips down his chin as you continue to grind back onto his flushed face, struggling to keep his cock in your mouth. Uncontrollable tears rain down your cheeks at your own eroticism, your muscle growing tense before you nearly fall docile on top of him. Your thighs quiver as he continues to press filthy kisses all over your dripping orchids. Your legs have fallen numb, but the lewd actions inflicted by your mouth burgeons once you quickly recompose. Your mouth continues bobbing up and down his wet shaft—slick, pornographic sounds resuming to play. The bulbous head of his cock hits the back of your throat when he suddenly jerks into your mouth with a low moan, his girthy cock nearly pushing past your uvula and earning a strangled gag from you. Your tastebuds welcome his thick precum, hands massaging his swollen gonads.
“Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum...” Sukuna croaks out, almost in warning. He throws his head back once more. A blue, singular vein strains against his tan neck, jaw locked into a tight clench. His firm balls tighten in your hands. His throbbing cock jerks in your mouth before spilling his load down your throat—quick jets of white semen swallowed down instantly as you shamelessly moan around him.
You pull your mouth away with pop, a large exhale escaping your smudged lips before you roll off him and onto your back against the drenched mattress. You’re still laid opposite to him, your head near his feet and vice versa. You can see his glistening chest heave with shallow breaths from your periphery. In the firmament, you both stare at the white ceiling with small pants. A hand resting over your naked chest as you attempt to control your heart rate. It was a fruitless attempt, because it continues to thump violently in your chest anyway. Your eyes suddenly widen in realisation once you registered what just happened. Once you realised what you’ve just done.
How you acted on an impulse, and fucked your reclusive neighbour.
thinking lots of thoughts about Meian, the most benevolent of captains. kind, responsible, well-liked. the type of man all professional volleyball players aspire to be. handsome, too. which makes it a given that he has lots of fans, and you just can’t help but be one of them. you can’t even count how many of his games you’ve been to, how long you’ve liked him for. it’s the way he always takes care of his teammates, strict but gentle, welcoming to rookies but still tough enough to whip them into shape. it’s the big smile on his face whenever a teammate does well, the way he ruffles their hair and showers praises on them.
nanami kento x fem!reader
tw unprotected sex breeding kink go brrr, overstimulation, bondage, toys, usage of daddy and pet names
to 🤠 nanami anon who sent me the two part asks, i finally got to do your req! hope you'll enjoy it. to robin, im sorry i ate mcd without ur ass 🙄 wheres the getou fic now
tagging:@booksweet @fushigurocockslut @lazy10ieiri @sassyeahhhh @cotton-curse @thevoidwriting @dukina @miss-ryomen @megumifushi @duskamethyst @haikyutiehoe @ninefuckingoneone @sookyshima @honoredsatoru @levisnackermans @tweedledee49 @gojocumslut @hyp-oh-critical @ultgojo @liltals @yelzoldyck @cocotaku420
anyways, im just gonna link my ko-fi here, don't feel obligated but it would help with my possible unemployment next month, hoping it don't go that way tho
- work from home
it was kind of his boss to allow him to work at home. something about him being his boss' favourite. you, being his loving little housewife couldn’t be more excited to hear the news at first.
he never let you work, something about how dangerous the big real work is, and you should just be his little housewife.
you went from your father’s house straight out of college straight into nanami’s two storey penthouse with tokyo’s skyline from the floor to ceiling window. all you have to do is just prepared his food, do the laundry and dishes, clean all the house, and present your pretty holes for fucking when he returned from a long stressful day at work. you even have one of his black cards for emergency.
you have everything a girl could ask for.
why should you work when he can provide everything?
but the idea quickly turned out to be a nightmare when he didn’t want to be disturb during work hour. he won’t lie, seeing how quickly your cute little smile died hurt his heart. “i’ll promise, i’ll be really quiet,” you pouted, throwing your arms around him, perching your chin on his shoulder (the only time you could do it) as he sat on the table enjoying his breakfast. your fingers toyed around the tie you picked; it matched his white shirt perfectly. even working from home, nanami strived for perfection with his work clothes, perfectly ironed with crisp line on the edge.
“i had this book to finish reading anyway so-”
“i have to focus on my work, baby girl,” you let out a disappointed whine, occupying the empty seat beside him. “i swear, i’ll be quiet. the most i’ll be a bother about is when i want one kiss from you.”
your finger grabbed one of the fruits, biting it gently as your eyes met his, maintaining them as you suckled on the juice. when it dripped down your hand, nanami quick to offer his help. he griped your arm, bringing it up to his face. instead of grabbing a tissue, his tongue darted out to catch the droplet of the sickly-sweet juice on your wrist, tracing his tongue up to your fingers.
your spine shuddered from the feeling of his hoarse muscle along your skin. his lips took on the remaining piece of the fruit, sucking the juice of your finger before pulling you in. your lips crashed, and you could taste the sweet fruit on his tongue where it invaded your mouth. you pulled him by the neck, finding yourself moving involuntarily onto his laps, your nightie hiked up as you grinded on his lap.
“you see, it’s impossible for you to steal only a kiss from me,” his hand tightened on your waist- a clear warning to not start what you can’t finish even if it was clear as day that nanami wants it too. his bulge was growing.
“if you start with one kiss, i’ll ask for more, now daddy can’t do that because daddy has meeting to attend,” he stood up, hands holding on your ass as your legs tightened around his waist. you could pout and whined, sucking desperately on his neck, and promising him everything you’ll let him do to you, all the holes he could feel in – not as if he hasn’t done it before – but nanami turned a deaf ear on you as he carried you upstairs.
your body landed on the soft mattress with a thud, you giggled, glancing as you watched his back walked into your closet and returned with a handful of ties. your brows furrowed, confused yet intrigued and before you could sit up and open your mouth, he pushed you back, settling you on the middle of the bed.
“kento, i thought we are not going to start what we can’t finish,” you whined as he gathered your wrist upward.
like a shibari rope, he wrapped it twice and pulling in a knot. it was loose, enough for a finger to slip in and comfortable for your wrists. he hated to leave marks on your pretty skin. he repeated it 3 more times on all your limbs until you’re sprawled on you bed secured to the headboard. he loves the way you squirmed, testing the makeshift rope as you tugged and whined. it won't budge.
“i know i can finish what i start, baby. i just need you to be patient for me.”
you eyed the last tie in his hand, a smile grew on his face as he leaned down. he kissed you with the same amount of desperation you had, frustrated that you couldn’t pull him closer. as he pulled away, the blindfold covered your eyes, enveloping you in darkness. he understood your confusion, forehead scrunched as you swallowed the lump in your throat.
you could feel his hand tugging on the hem of your nightie, pushing it upward exposing the matching panties underneath it. from the pretty little bow sitting on your mound to obvious wet patch growing on your panties, nanami took full pleasure in ripping the flimsy material apart.
you could feel his warm breath against your sopping slit. he can buy you a new one, you know that. he’ll buy the whole lingerie store if you want too, just be a good girl for him, that’s all he wants. you felt something slipped in, another pressed against your clit. you let a soft gasp, calling for him, squirming at the feeling of your cunt stretching.
then it came. the vibration against your clit that immediately made your hips thrusted upward, the feeling of the vibration in your cunt against your spongy wall that was so strong the headboard rattled as you tugged your arms.
“ah, ah, play nice, y/n,” his deep voice invaded your ear, adding more stimulation.
“daddy, please.”
“do you remember what the rules are?”
“d-don’t make so much noise! ah, kento, not so much.”
you threw your head back, gasping for air as he pushed the remote to the maximum setting, watching as you trashed desperately against the makeshift restrains made of his silk ties. no matter how much you tried to squeeze your legs together, trying so badly to ease the rapid vibration of the toy attached on your clit and resting inside your spongy wall, it won’t budge.
“i’m gonna cum,” you cried, the noise you made was almost feral. you could feel his breath on your neck, his body ghosting over your own as he sucked on your skin so gently.
“come on, baby,” he cooed, “give daddy one pretty orgasm.” you couldn’t see the smile he’s making, your eyes covered by a blindfold, but you could feel his lips attached to your nipples, rolling the bud around through your thin, lavender nightie- an anniversary gift from him to you. the material rubbing combined with the feeling of his wet tongue was heavenly and it easily threw you on your first orgasm.
nanami eased off the vibrator, down until 0 and watched as you gulped air rapidly, panting with drools down your cheeks. “you always look pretty like this. be a very good girl and wait for me, okay?” his fingers brushed gently against your burning cheeks, you nodded eagerly, mouthing a yes daddy to your loving husband. you could feel the bed shifting and the echo of his footsteps as he opened the door and closing it, leaving you in solitude of your shared bedroom, tied and attached to a fully charged the thrill is exhilarating, for both of you.
you waited, cunt clenching against the toy, waiting for your husband to turn it on.
2 minutes past.
you started sweating.
3 minutes.
why won't he turn it on?
5 minutes.
and then it came. the vibration again, focused only on your swollen clit in pulses. it made you choked on your saliva, struggling to keep your moan in. his name rolled out of your tongue like a prayer, tears soaking through the silk blindfold as pressure build in your belly only for the vibrator to stop just before you could taste your high.
she knew exactly what’s he doing and he’s not playing nice.
it went on for few hours, nanami didn’t really notice how time was flying when he has been edging you for almost 3 hours. from the muted security feed on his phone, you were still writhing, trashing against the headboard. 5 orgasms against countless edging. you must be cranky and overstimulated, hating him with your whole damn chest but he has his ways to make it up.
what he didn’t tell you was he was working half day today. saving all his files and closing everything, he walked out of the office with the controller. it’s lunch time and nanami is starving. the vibrator has been turned off for a while, he knew you are anticipating for it to turn on again as the last time didn’t provide you the release you need.
“namin?” you cried out weakly as he held the doorknob, “i know you’re there.”
what to expect from your needy wife?
he twisted the doorknob, closing it behind him as he loosened his own tie around the neck. he was right, seeing you right in front of him yourself is more satisfying that the small security feed. you had soaked through the bed with the amount of fluid and cum you produced, he was surprised the massager didn’t slip out.
your nightie sticking to your body, drenched in your own sweat, drools on your cheeks and neck. he could see the way your body still faintly shuddering from being forced into a repetitive cycle of orgasm and edging. he wanted to feel sorry for neglecting your needs but couldn’t help to feel more turned out by the outcome.
you’re a mess he wants to bury his cock in.
“has my wife been a good girl while i work?” he asked nonchalantly, busy with undoing his buttons.
he approached the bed, it shifted as he sat on the edge, your head snapped towards him in excitement. you nodded, strings of yes escaped your lips as his fingers pulled the blindfold down. you slowly opened your eyes, even though it was only half lidded, struggled to adjust to the lighting, your glossy wet eyes looked ethereal to him.
he reached out, gently stroking your thigh and your leg naturally jerked out of sensitivity from being overstimulated for hours. your face warmed up even more, “m’sorry,” escaped your lips as he looked at you amusingly.
he started to undo the restrains off your legs, disappointed that it still left red marks around it from your trashing. next were the toys, completely drenched in your fluid. you fought the urge to close your legs, biting on your puffy lips when his fingertips occasionally brushed your puffy cunt. “i made a mess, daddy, i’m sorry,” your eyes rolled back as he pulled it out, strings of fluid connected from your cunt to it.
“it’s alright, daddy will help you clean it later, okay?” a kiss landed on thigh as the toy clattered on the floor.
he sat between your legs, as he traced his kisses on your mound and belly, hands busy undoing the buckle of his belt. pushing your legs against your chest, you could feel his cock pressing through the boxer against your cunt. his lips busied itself on your breasts.
“it would look cute swollen do you think?” he asked, gently sucking on your nipple, releasing it with a soft pop, “it’s already a handful in my hand, imagine how pretty it’s gonna look when it’s swollen with milk for our babies huh?” he shot you a wink as he busied himself with another one, replacing his lips with his rough fingers on the other one.
“y-you want to have a baby now?” you asked breathlessly.
he nodded, sucking on your chest and collarbone. everywhere his lips touched it left black and blue marks, his hair curtained down his face, tickling your neck as he kissed the crook of your neck. “don’t you think it’s time for us?” he asked, pushing his boxer down, his cock sprung out, slapping against your cunt, “it gets lonely at home alone right? it would be nice to have a baby running around the house don’t you think?” he kissed your neck repeatedly, it was almost drowsy, “they could have my hair and your pretty beady eyes, don’t you want that?” he cooed as his hips rocked gently along your slit.
the angry red tip caught your clit multiple times deliciously, eliciting soft throaty moans out of your parted lips. “yes, please, let me have your babies. i’ve been such a good girl.” you cooed weakly, fingers gripping on the ties, what came out of your mouth next was fueled in lust and was his tipping point.
“breed me.”
his face ghosted over your own, the tip of his nose brushed against your own, a small smile played on his face. “you’re such a pretty little princess. you think you can do me a favour?” he ran the tip of his fingers along your lips. all he wanted was a yes out of your puffy lips, which he got and that was all it took for him to slip the bulbous tip in.
“you’re gonna stay like this, all tied up and pretty for daddy to breed you. just one week, for me. you think you can do it for daddy?” he watched as your face contorted in pleasure as your cunt sucked him in inch by inch. you rolled your eyes, arms tensing up.
it was hard to think with your cunt full, it was completely different than the feeling of the toy in you. hours stuffed with vibrating toy could never replace the feeling of his cock splitting you apart. his fingers found home around the column of your neck, tightening to coax you back to reality.
“d-daddy.”
he jutted his lips forward, “daddy asked you a question, are you going to ignore me?”
“n-no, it’s just so full.”
“aww, did my cock make you dumb already?” he cooed, slamming his hips forward. a chortled no escaped your lips as you braced yourself for his thrusts, his pelvic slamming down your squelching cunt, pushing out gushes of your arousal down the valley of your ass. he pressed down on the back of your thighs with his hand, hoisting your hip higher. a better angle for his cock to rake your gummy walls. your walls enveloped his length so perfect like it was molded for him.
“s’good, ah gonna cum, daddy, please,” you whined, looking up desperate for him with your teary eyes.
drools dripping out of your lips where your tongue’s hanging, panting like a little bitch on heat. the tension on your stomach continue to build as nanami’s pace didn’t falter. his hand moved for more support, a thumb on your clit, circling slowly on the puffy nub. low, needy grunt escaped his own lips every time your walls clamped down on his cock each time he slid out.
“baby, baby, you’ll be the death of me every time you clenched like that,” he grunted as he pushed in roughly against the resistance of your tight wall.
he could feel the throbbing of your clit as you let out jumbled out moan and came messily on his cock. your cunt made that sloppy, wet noise while your legs trembled underneath his hold. his cock slipped out, he held it down as he slowly rubbed it against your slit, slapping the clit with the tip multiple of time.
your hips jerked multiple times; your sweet little cries melodious to the man. it took another slap for you to scream, unable to control yourself as you started to squirt, gush of your sweet nectar wettened his cock and the sheet underneath.
nanami had no qualms about burying his face down there, slurping and lapping your squirt like his last meal. he hummed and moaned against your slit; as you looked down, your face flushed as you were caught off guard by the depth of the desire you found staring back at you. a couple jerk of his cock and it’s back in you, bottoming in and out. you’ll sure you’ll not make it out of the room without a couple of bruises all over your body and your cervix.
“you’ll think you can give me another one? with me, baby? it would be a perfect ending for today.”
he brushed your hair back, eyes deep in your cloudy eyes. his lips would not stop kissing you, swallowing your needy, greedy moan for more. you didn’t care anymore as his teeth tugged on your bottom lips, sucking until it tasted like blood on his mouth. you plead for more and faster, you could feel your wrist burned against the restrains. it was sure to leave a burn mark along with ten finger shaped prints on your supple thighs in few hours.
“i’m going to fill you up so full, and you’re going to keep it all in for me okay, princess?”
“yes daddy, please, please, please.”
he kept pressing your thighs down on your chest, knocking more breath out of your chest with his thrusts and sloppy, messy circles on your clit. your teeth clashed against each other; you could feel his lips moving against yours. his words were everything you wanted to hear, nothing but sweet praises.
“you’re mine, princess. your lips i’m kissing, your body, this cunt i’m fucking is all mine.”
you could only nod deliriously, body writhing overdosed in pleasure. he took it as a sign to start to chase his own high, with a deeper angle as nanami could feel the familiar coil of pleasure unwinding deep in his belly. he knew you are coming to your end too, so hypersensitive after your last one. he kissed your calf, fangs gazing to against your skin leaving lines of red marks.
“you’ll look so good as a mommy,” your moans muffled as his fingers slipped between your lips, pressing down on your hoarse tongue. his thrusts became sloppier, and you were sucking harder on his fingers. it was stimulating to the man, his own moans and grunts got needier and needier the faster he pumped into you. he wanted to cum in you so badly, he needed too if he wanted to get you swollen by the end of the month.
he wants his princess to carry his baby so badly. he could envision you waddling your pregnant belly to his side, with the pretty little pouts. breasts so heavy with milk that every time it aches nanami would offer himself to ease you off the pain. he wants to suckle on your tits, lapping every single droplet of it until you’re a moaning mess. pregnancy makes your hormone a mess, constant wet and needy for him.
the thought of you pregnant made it easier to reach his needed high. you came together, your orgasm and your throbbing walls made it easier for him as it milked on his cock that soon spurts after spurts of cum painted your inside. “fuck, baby, that’s it, you take it all in like a good girl, shit,” he snarled, burying his nose against your skin, inhaling your scent mixed in the smell of sex. jerking the base of his cock so slowly just to make sure every single drop of the cum joined the milky mess between your legs.
he pulled his now soft cock out of your cunt, carefully not to spill anything out.
nanami was quick to undo your restrains, minding your little meek of moan as he slowly lowered your arms. it was sore as he massaged it so gently, kissing the wrist and arms, shushing you and telling you how it’s going to be alright. gathering your weak body in his arms, your body still shuddered from the post orgasm. his strong hands worshipped your breasts, squeezing it so lightly, gently showering your shoulder and neck with kisses.
you craned your head up, lips pouting for a kiss which he indulged.
“am i a good girl daddy?”
“very,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair, “and when you’re full of my child, you’ll be the best.”
+ naoya zen’in x f!reader. medieval!au. enemies-to-lovers. romance. angst. fluff (barfing noises). slice of life. eventual smut. naoya w/o misogynism.
+ this is supposed to be an oikawa story but i changed it since i don’t have any more inspi to keep writing for any hq character aside from suna. but hunter, really? naoya zen’in? yeah. i know. naoya seems challenging— if not interesting—to write for and this is my i-can-fix-him phase so please give this man a chance. 💀
chapter one.
“You have to be the most beautiful girl the Crown Prince has ever seen.” The voice of your mother was pitched and giddy, her excitement trembling its way out of her body as she scrutinized your reflection on the mirror.
You echoed a snort, the sound earning a fault-finding look from her. “It’s nothing but a simple gathering, Mother. There’s no need for you to be that anxious,” you prompted to escape her scrutiny. Oh skies, this corset was tight. Thankfully, it’s comfortable.
“Nonsense.” She waved her hand towards the ladies-in-waiting. They handed her a jaded comb which she used to untangle your hair. “You must stand out. Do you understand? You must.”
Because you were too mesmerized by the way her hands moved to pull your hair up, you failed to notice the strange gleam in her eyes.
“Why are we attending, Mother? Those nobles will only—” You winced as she thumbed one intricate pin to your hair.
Finished, she took a step back, admiring her pristine work. “That’s why we will attend. They won’t look down at us anymore once the night is through.”
“Why, Mother?” you prodded, curiosity bubbling like water in a mighty cauldron. “What was so important about this gathering?”
From behind, she encased your hands with her and peeked through your shoulder while looking at your eyes in the reflection. “You will see. Hurry up, the coach is waiting outside.”
Exhaling one full breath, you admired yourself the hours of labor of your ladies-in-waiting. Your gown was in deep crimson shade, embroidered with sinuous shapes of different wildflowers at its hem. The sleeves were puffed, the neckline not too low. Enough to show your neck and a little of your chests. Your hands were gloved in crimson lace up to your elbows. Your earrings were in vivid rubies, matching your necklace that was wrapped nicely around your neck.
However, you couldn’t wipe off the wriggling uncertainty that the night was more than what it seemed to be.
Perhaps it’s your fault for not reading the whole invitation. But your mother snatched the golden paper before you could do just that. After all, it had been a while since your family was invited to the First Palace. Everyone in your manor had been too eager to see the seal of the Royal Family and read the personalized letter from the King.
“You look dashing, my lady,” one of your ladies-in-attendant, Nera, complimented with a smile.
Your image refused to sit well with you. It’s nothing but lies. This exquisite gown wrapping your body and the jewels prettifying your skin were nothing but deception.
Inside the coach, the air felt stifling.
Your father sat across from you, while your mother settled herself by your side. Both of them were silent, no doubt having the jitters.
Your hands were unexpectedly clammy. How many years had it been? You already had forgotten what it felt like to ride a coach towards the hill where the Three Palaces were nestled.
“It still feels surreal,” you began, voice commixing with the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves against the pavement. “This invitation.”
Shifting on his seat, your father fanned himself with his hat. “That is why we shall not make a fool of ourselves. Whatever happened five years ago, we shall not speak of it. Do not entertain the nobles who will try to catechize us of that unfortunate year.”
A pang went through your heart. There was no force in this world capable of erasing what tragedy befell your family five years ago. All throughout the Kingdom, it had been known as the downfall of one of the mightiest Houses in the Kingdom of Xanth. For you, it was the year you lost an ally.
“Brother did nothing—”
“He did, Y/N,” your mother cut your words off as sharp as a knife would. “He committed treason and we suffered because of it.”
“No. He did what was right. He did one thing the people of Xanth couldn’t.”
“And he lost his head for it,” your mother gritted, stopping the words you attempted to speak.
Sinking in further to your seat, you clamped your mouth shut. Noticing your demeanor, your mother reached out for your hand.
“Please, Y/N. We are still hurting but we must move on.”
Before you could utter a response, the coach drew in a halt as it reached its destination.
A shudder prickled the hair on your nape, beholding the façade of the First Palace. It had been years since the last time you visited. You almost couldn’t remember what it used to look like. Only the noble families were permitted during gatherings. Because of what befell your family all those years ago, the King had spurned the thought of inviting your House.
Red carpet had been laid up the stairs towards the egress. There were bundles of flowers on each step, excreting a redolent smell of jasmine and sandalwood. Winged creatures adorned both sides of the stairs, acting as a guardian to all that visited.
When you reached the last step, you were already puffing air. A shrouded look from your mother straightened your back right away. You could ill-afford looking a mess in front of these families who’s waiting for you to err.
Your mother passed on the invitation to the manservant waiting in the entrance. He studied the paper with keen eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe that your family had been invited.
“Are you done examining the letter?” You couldn’t stop your tongue from lashing out.
His reckoning eyes punctured the vein in your forehead.
Your mother was quick to grip your hand, giving the manservant a warm smile.
“Y/N,” she hissed, leaning in closer to you. “Watch your tongue. Or else all is lost.”
Lulling your eyes back to your skull, you released a scoff. If the night would want you to bite your tongue until its conclusion, it’s no doubt you would come home bleeding.
Your vexation was swept clean when you stepped inside the Palace’s hall, your mouth turning agape.
Despite the horrors of what the King had done to the Kingdom of Xanth and to its people, you couldn’t deny the beauty His Majesty and his ancestors had built.
There were tall marbled pillars on each side of the huge hall, dividing the ceiling from the shiny floor. Each pillar had been draped with the Royal Family’s coat of arms and grandiose tapestry of lands the past monarchies had conquered.
Raised at least four steps from the ground, there sat the King’s dais. Hearsay had it that the throne was made of solid gold. The gossips took the reality’s shape as thousand candles casted their lights to the seat.
You gulped. That throne was made of solid gold. What the bleeding hells.
Up and behind the dais were three huge gothic stained glass windows. They were divided by heavy metal frames. The glass had been cut in different shapes showing the image of the god of all gods, Aean. Above the aperture was the Kingdom’s maxim itself: A deo rex, a rege lex. From God the King, from King the law.
“Fitting,” you murmured.
King Naobito truly believed that whatever gruesome thing he’d done thus far was bestowed upon him by Aean— the mighty God of the Sun.
The King, the Queen, as well as their two children were nowhere to be found. Gatherings such as this one always saves the momentous moment for last, after all.
Roaming your eyes around your surroundings, you raised a brow towards the ladies obviously gossiping behind their huge fans. When you realized what the ruckus was about, you released a gasp.
In the sea of gold, you were the only one wearing a bloody red gown.
“Mother!” You carried your skirts and stomped right towards her, who undeniably was having a toilsome time talking with other noblewomen. Worry painted their overly powdered faces as your mother tried to coax them into speaking.
Bite your tongue. Don’t let them get to you.
“Please, excuse me for a while Lady Bria.” She flashed them her pearlescent white teeth. You needn’t tell her that the Lady Bria seemed more than willing to let her go.
She turned to you. “Yes, dear?”
Through your nose, you breathed. “What is with this crimson gown, Mother? What are you planning?” You weren’t a fool. You were Lady Hestia’s daughter for a reason. Prim and proper since you began to walk. You knew her mind like the back of your hand.
She led you away from eavesdropping ears, towards the shadows of the hallway behind the gargantuan pillars. “You look wonderful, my dear. Use it well.”
“Use it well?” you asked, incredulous.
She was playing a game. A game she hadn’t bothered informing you of.
“I have been meaning to tell you this. Your father and I have decided to let you...”
Soft melody suddenly dominated the chatter of the guests, even cleaving your mother’s words. The sound was coming from a pianoforte. But you wouldn’t let it hinder you from knowing the true intention of your parents.
“Let me, what? Mother?”
“Come now, I’ll tell you later. The Royal Family is here.” She walked away, tugging your wrist with her.
More eyes landed on your gown, garnering you a handful of sneering faces. Embarrassing as it was, you knew it was half your fault. You should’ve read the whole letter. Indisputably, the proper attire for this ball was written there.
From the location of the food, your father emerged. By the grim expression on his face, you knew that he failed to talk with other Lords as well.
If you weren’t ecstatic about your chignon, you would’ve tugged your hair out of frustration. You felt as though you were a torch, shining bright against the darkness. The dress you had adorned earlier turned to be the thing that vexes you the most now.
“Isn’t he lovely?” Lady Hestia swooned beside you, hands clasped together while watching the person playing the pianoforte.
You might as well roister like everyone else. So you followed her gaze, until your eyes was anchored by the man gracefully pressing his fingers to the keys.
Once. You have seen him once. When you were merely a kid, paying homage to the Queen. Close to your age, he was nothing more than a royal child. Attended by too many bonne, cornered by his friends.
Looking at him now, your heart unexpectedly leaped. Not romantically, no. It’s because of how he had grown up— the Crown Prince. Prince Naoya.
With an elegant sweep of his fingers over the keys, the Crown Prince concluded his little play. Applauding rippled through the air. Heartfelt sighs resonated everywhere.
The moment he stood up, you were attacked by the years you hadn’t seen him.
He was tall and broad. Donned with an exquisite jet black overcoat embellished with silver and golden threads. He wore sleek pants, undershirt, and tie of the same color. A chain dangled from his shoulder to his upper left chest. To his right was their embroidered emblem. Shock of blonde tresses, paired with a smile that would have any underpants falling down to the knees— he was a sight to behold, indeed.
He looked like the King.
Daydreams about the Crown Prince were riven when the master of ceremonies began his job of introducing the Royal Family.
Every set of eyes were on them as they stepped into the limelight.
When Queen Ylan came into view, your vexation with your crimson gown died a little. The Queen was donned with a matchless dress. It’s of a golden color accentuated by crimson hues. The needlework almost put a tear in your eyes. It was splendid. Aging like fine wine, the Queen was beautiful.
Revelries such as this one wouldn’t start without the King’s baseless speeches. Still, you were forced to listen. He brought the forming of the Eastern Wall, that kills dozens of peasants nearly everyday. He stated how the Kingdom prospers despite certain odds such as the inevitable flood, sickness because of rodents, poverty, and so on.
You had no idea how one kingdom thrives by having those problems, but King Naobito successfully twisted his words to convince the masses that his countrymen have nothing to fear. After his speech, applause once again filled the hall. You clenched your hands into fists, denying to extol the tyrant.
After that grueling oration, you ambled towards the food, ignoring the reckoning stares from other countesses. They could talk all they want until their throat bleeds, but you’d have your food right here.
Appetizers, soup, chicken thighs, venison, salted vegetables, and fruits were all laid pristinely on the long table.
You gulped down saliva as primly as you could. It’s not as though you hadn’t yet eaten these kinds of food. But the speech surely had driven you hungry.
Walking back with a plate full of sumptuous repast, you earned a pinch from your mother. “What?” you grunted before forking the chicken thigh glazed with buttered-gravy.
“Limit yourself, dear. The dancing will be difficult if you eat too much.”
Fork halfway in your mouth, you paused with a small chuckle. “Dancing? Please, Mother. There’s no living bachelor who would dance with me.” And it’s their lost.
She refreshed herself with a fan. “Who says I’m talking about the bachelors? You will dance with no one but the Crown Prince.”
Now, you choked. Fortunately, a servant halted in front of you to hand drinks. You snatched one from the tray, emptying the glass in one gulp. The sweet vin du pays washed your throat, allowing you to breathe once more.
“I will not,” you emphasized, “dance with anyone. Especially not with the Crown Prince.”
Lady Hestia took a sip from her glass, eyeing you above the rim. Then she said, “You have been dancing right after you learned how to walk. You are polished, my dear.”
“I appreciate the compliment, Mother. Unfortunately, I’m not in the spirit to dance.”
She hushed after that, but a roguish smile was all over her lips. A scheming smile that you failed to read until it’s too late.
If your corset wasn’t begging you to slow down with the food, you would’ve eaten until you had your fill. But it had gotten tight and hard to breathe, so you heed your mother’s warning albeit begrudgingly.
Father and mother tangoed in the center of the hall, indifferent to judgmental eyes watching them. All that matters was the dance.
Alone, you stood near one of the pillars, watching as the noblewomen danced with the Crown Prince. He had been pirouetting them along with the orchestra’s shuffling of songs.
Fairly gallant, the Prince surely was. He was the one personally offering a dance. Much to your penchant, he hadn’t seen you yet despite the beacon that was your crimson gown. Or perhaps he didn’t want to dance with you— a lady from that family.
You ignored the thoughts then swallowed your fourth glass of the night. Instead of watching the unending swirl of bodies, you drifted your eyes towards the dais. Where the King sat on his throne, watching everyone with his sharp eyes. To his right was the Queen. Their ten-year-old youngest beside her. Khalil, his name.
The master of ceremonies bowed from the base of the stairs before he was permitted to climb. Once there, he whispered something to the Queen. As he leaned away, the Queen’s eyes weaved through the crowd, definitely searching for something. Or someone.
Until your eyes met. Your heart thundered inside your chest, back immediately straightening. She looked at you then smiled. Turning your head to peer behind you, you found nothing but an empty space. When you looked at her again, she was whispering something to the Crown Prince.
Then it wasn’t the Queen’s eyes you were looking at but Prince Naoya’s.
Oh, devils. No. You have to... disappear! Run if you must. There was no way— there was no absolute way. But running might offend the Crown Prince as well as the Queen.
A hand was extended towards you before you could even think of a way to escape. You dropped a hurried curtsy, denying eye-contact.
You could feel everyone’s eyes burrowing into your sides. Could hear the whispers. Gossips.
“May I have this dance, my lady?” Regal, masculine, and unforgiving. That was how his voice sounded like.
Bleeding skies.
You met his eyes, taking his hand. “Of course, Your Grace. It’s an honor.”
A sliver of smile tugged his lips upward. But you wouldn’t miss the accidie in his countenance. What the bleeding hell? Your stomach churned. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to dance with you. Why offer you his hand, then?
As he escorted you towards the center of the hall, you caught a glimpse of your parents. Sparks were in their eyes.
You looked away, forcing a smile on your own lips. This will be through before you know it.
Bite your tongue. Don’t let this get to you.
Fate hated you. It did. Because when the Crown Prince secured his hand to the small of your back, your hand on his shoulders, the orchestra shuffled for a romantic tune. Entirely different from the upbeat ones they played moments ago.
Swaying to the dulcet music, you transfixed your gaze to Prince Naoya’s chin instead. You had no idea of what you might say once you see the tedium in his eyes again.
“Why won’t you look at me?” There definitely was an undertone of mischief in his question.
What was he up to? Whatever it was, you refused to be his source of entertainment tonight.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. Your striking aura flusters me too much,” you lied. Well, half-lied. He looked dashing but it wasn’t his beauty that was stopping you from looking at him. After all, handsome is as handsome does.
Prince Naoya chuckled, the sound honey-dipped. “Look at me, my lady.”
Sighing inwardly, you fixed your gaze at him. His eyes were a vivid color of emerald. And the malaise remained in them.
“Your dress is quite different from the others,” he whispered as he twirled your body away just to catch you again.
That was the last thing you would want to hear from him.
“I’ve made a mistake of not reading the letter properly, Your Grace. I hope you do not mind.” As you spun, his scent wafted your nostrils. He smelled like fresh-mornings— of lemongrass and something spicy.
“Not at all, Lady…?” He paused, searching for your face with his knitted brows. “What is your name?”
You looked at him, masking the affront in your countenance. He didn’t even know you, yet you fretted as if he did.
“Y/N. From the House of Aven.”
He raised one brow. “House of Aven?” Realization dawned on him instantly. “From the traitor’s House?”
Bite your tongue. Don’t let him get to you.
You met his eyes, chin held up high. “Yes, Your Grace.”
His squinted at you a little, his hand gripping you tightly. “Why do you think you are permitted to come here?”
Why did his words bothered you? He didn’t sound deriding but his expression did the work.
“Pardon me but I do not know, Your Grace.”
Under his stare, you felt unraveled. As if he was a corroded knife, skinning you little by little.
The Crown Prince pulled you closer until your chests touched ever so slightly. “Look at them.” His breath. A bit of alcohol had been mixed with mint.
“Pardon?” You refused to give in to the feel of his chest against yours. Albeit having all of the eyes to the both of you, you wouldn’t give them what they wanted: to see you crumbling underneath the Crown Prince’s mien.
“Some of them like what they see. Some do not. Shall we give them something to talk about?”
“Your Grace, I do not—”
Everything stopped at once. The music, the people, everything. For his lips were on yours, unexpectedly harsh for a prince.
Your body went completely rigid, your heart refused to beat. What is this? What is all this? To embarrass you?
With everything you had, you propelled him away before slapping him hard on the cheek.
The Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Xanth took a step back, his cheek reddening.
Loud and angry gasps rushed past everyone’s lips. Sentries were around him in a heartbeat. Sentries surrounded you in a blink.
Your parents were wild-eyed in the crowd. They couldn’t step in, for they were barricaded from reaching you.
You understood right away the plight you were in. You would lose both your hands.
Prince Naoya straightened up, his eyes vacant. Though he carried himself relatively well, the veins protruding on his forehead were visible.
No matter how much you wanted to run, you were trapped here. You slapped the future King. That would never come past without retribution. You were absolutely and undeniably damned.
“My, my,” the King chanted as he approached.
You bowed your head low. Meeting his eyes would land you into more troubles.
“What happened here?” His baritone was low but amused. “Lady Y/N.”
Dropping a trembling curtsy, you greeted the King, “Your Majesty.”
“You struck the Crown Prince, my lady. Do you understand what you have done?” Despite his flat tone, the hint of warning resurfaced.
How did you wind up here? You merely wanted to get through this night.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” you responded after gulping.
Across from you, the Crown Prince fleered. “She is not apologetic, Your Majesty. Look at her. There is no remorse in her posture.”
Bite your tongue. Don’t let him get to you. You repeated the words until you successfully had manifested them.
Curtsying lower than before, you looked down at the floor. “Your Grace, I deeply apologize for my insolence. I was... surprised by your sudden act. But do know that it isn’t my intention to strike you, nor embarrass you—”
He took a step forward, until the points of his shoes appeared in your line of sight. “I’ll have her hands on my threshold tomorrow, Your Majesty.”
Amidst the thunderstruck noise of the guests, your mother’s cries arose.
Clenching your fists, you met his devilish eyes. There was nothing enthralling in them anymore. Only cruelty.
Bite your tongue— no, you were done biting. “Isn’t that unfair, Your Grace?”
A smirk, then he leaned closer. “Indulge me, my lady.”
“You were the one who kissed me without my permission. In the eyes of many, that is an assault.”
“Assault?” Prince Naoya scoffed. “I am the Crown Prince.”
“Shouldn’t you know better, then? You have received proper education. You know the doctrines because you are the Crown Prince.” You challenged him with your eyes and with the puff of your chest. You weren’t in to raise the white flag. You wouldn’t transform to a laughingstock. You would depart this god forsaken merriment with your hands intact.
He tilted his head to the side, amusement and indignity evident on his pretty face. “You know how to bite. But your fangs won’t save you, my lady. Sed lex dura lex.” The law is hard, but it is the law.
At last, the King interfered. “Come now, son. The crowd is waiting.”
He didn’t release your fiery eye-contact. “Tomorrow, bid your hands a proper farewell.”
Oh, you wanted to punch him. You badly wanted to. Before you lose your hands, you yearned to hit him one last time.
“Son, we won’t sever her hands.”
Both of you snapped your necks towards his father.
“Pardon me, Your Grace?” Prince Naoya demanded in an undertone.
The King sighed. “I do not think I should repeat myself, do I?”
You examined the King. He looked exactly like a powerful head of a monarch. His words carried threats and promises at the same time. Still, you knew of his tyranny. You have been a witness of that.
“No, Your Majesty,” the Prince answered, his sharp jaw pulled tight.
You allowed yourself to breathe as the King ascended the stairs towards the dais.
With one last look that held so much commination, the Crown Prince pivoted on his heels and walked away, leaving the revelry with a group of sentries following him.
Your parents were beside you in an instant, guiding you away.
“Are you alright?” Lady Hestia’s eyes were glazed with unshed tears.
Your body still trembled, but you gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry, Mother.”
Your father pulled you in for a hug. “You did good, my love.”
“Shall we go home? I don’t feel so good,” you admitted. One more second inside this Palace would push you at the ends of your limits.
“Of course, my love,” your mother whispered, relaxing your arms with her hands. “Come on.”
“Apologies, ladies and gentlemen for the intrusion. We will now proceed to the announcement regarding the Four Trials,” the master of ceremonies bayed from the front.
Your mother’s steps halted. So does your father’s. Around you, the ladies beamed, fanning themselves with their hands fervently.
Four Trials. The trials to determine the next Queen. The one who wins will marry the Crown Prince.
“Mother, let’s go,” you plead. You particularly didn’t give a damning hell about anything regarding the Prince. However, your parents wouldn’t budge to where they stood.
Giggles and excited shrieks sang in the air as nobles from different Houses were called and therefore determined to join the Four Trials.
“Margaret Villanueva,” the master of ceremonies announced. Villanueva. One of the powerhouses of Xanth. You have heard that Lady Margaret’s beauty was unparalleled. Your bet was on her.
“And last to participate in the Four Trials…” the master of ceremonies hung his words for a minute.
Since you arrived, you have been asking yourself why you were here. Why did your mother insist to have you donned in the most opulent gown you have in your armoire. Why did you have to attend this night’s gatherings after years of being shunned away.
But now, as the master of ceremonies called one more name to complete the participants, you understood why.
“Lady Y/N! Please, let’s give her a round of applause!”
“Y... your Grace! Hah! Ah!”
Prince Naoya grabbed the woman’s flesh, his nails digging into the soft meat of her behind. Their breathless moans, as well as the begs of the woman underneath him resonated through his dimly lit bedroom.
“Your Grace! S... slow down!” the woman shrieked, clawing onto the velvet sheets.
The slap of skin to skin failed to uplift the Prince’s ardor. His mind never ceased drifting to the events of the night— where a certain nobody had the guts to strike him. And of how his father, the King, merely brushed it off as if it was a lone thread on his pristine overcoat.
“Ah! I’m losing my mind!” she moaned, her cunt tightening around the Prince’s shaft.
Who is that girl? Who does she think she is? From the House of Aven, she said. With her chin held up high, as though it was something she should be proud of.
Eyes far away, the Prince slammed his hips against the nameless woman’s buttocks. She bayed. The Prince didn’t need to see her face to know that her eyes were rolling back to her skull.
House of Aven. The girl hailed from the traitor’s house. Naoya was merely a small princeling when the infamous rebellion ensued. However, he clearly remembered how His Majesty crushed the traitors underfoot.
They were killed. Some of them burned. Most of them decapitated. One of those had been Eros Aven. Lord Thomas and Lady Hestia’s first-born son.
“It’s coming, Your Grace! Ah!”
Prince Naoya landed his large palm on the woman’s soft flesh. She shrieked, her body drooping down the bed. He felt her tightening as the wave of euphoria washed over her frame. The Prince released a grunt— of pleasure or of enmity, he didn’t know.
No one strikes a prince without suffering damnation. To be slapped by a mere lady in front of his future constituents was a crime he wouldn’t let go unpunished.
The Prince pulled himself out of the woman’s cunt. “Go,” he commanded, kindling the tobacco before pressing it between his lips.
The woman wrapped herself with the sheets, her eyes heavy from exhaustion. “Won’t you join me to sleep, Your Grace?”
Tobacco in between the Prince’s lithe fingers, he pulled on his breeches. What was the name of this woman again? He’s forgotten already.
“What is your name?” Naoya’s voice had been laced with unfiltered authority. The dawn was breaking, with it the promise of his mother’s visit. He must get rid of this woman, fast.
Without him realizing, the woman’s arms were wrapped around his waist, her supple breasts pressing against his back.
“Margaret, Your Grace. Margaret Villanueva.”
Oh, that. She was the only daughter of Lord Villanueva. He sat in the council of the King. Now that he remembered, the woman surely took from her father. Not of the face, no. It was the bombastic attempt to fall into the Royal Family’s good graces.
Naoya whirled, his hands taking in the woman’s face. Her eyes were like stars as she stared at the Prince. But when was it any different?
“Well, Lady Margaret, your cunt is tight, but I do not sleep with the women I’ve bedded.”
Lady Margaret went gelid, albeit her eyes carried that certain spark in them. “Then, then, can we do this again—”
Prince Naoya smiled ever so lovingly. A smile which never failed to acquire him everything he wanted. “Put on your clothes, my lady. Surely, you do not want the Queen discovering you in the chambers of a man? Especially when you have sworn to join the Four Trials.”
Hurt flashed in her face. “But, certainly, we can do this again? I will win the Four Trials. I will be queen!”
Naoya squinted. “My lady, I know my cock’s worth all the trouble. But is that your only reason for joining?” Her mouth opened but the Prince didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Go. I won’t say it thrice.”
“I do not want it!” You felt your pulse quicken by every breath, patience thinning— no, it had been smothered the moment they announced the Four Trials. “He embarrassed me in front of everyone! And now you want me to struggle so I can marry him?!” Your voice boomed over the silence in the living room. The ladies-in-attendants jolted at your fury.
Your mother gripped the kerchief with her hands. Your father quietly puffed on his tobacco near the window, looking over the expanse of his manor.
“Dear, please, calm down—”
“How can I, Mother?!” You paced back and forth, rolling your fingers on your temples. “You listed me to the Four Trials without my consent.”
Oh, skies. Walking to stand with the four other selected noblewomen earlier won’t leave your mind. The excruciating feeling abided, remembering how you introduced yourself in such an ungainly manner. How the four of them appeared confident in their own body, juxtaposing you.
It wasn’t as if you weren’t comfortable in your own skin. However, the sifting eyes everyone had given you made you feel utterly bared. In their eyes, it was impossible to miss the questions of ‘Why is she standing there?’ ‘Why is she joining the Four Trials?’ ‘She’s sister to that traitor, right?’. More than the judgment in their crumpled expressions, it was the reality of your parents’ betrayal that pained you the most.
“My love, this is for our family,” your mother softly spoke. Each word carefully rolling out of her tongue lest she triggered the landmine that was your forbearance. “We decided not to inform you because you wouldn’t have said yes, either way.”
“You did not tell me because you know that I would never indulge myself in such folly.” You didn’t mean the words to bite, but you were too stubborn to care.
Swiveling on your heels while picking your heavy skirts, you turned your back against them. There was no force in this Earth that would miraculously compel you to join the Four Trials. Never in your life have you paid attention to such things. Besides, the legacy your brother had bestowed upon you was too great of importance for you to throw it away.
If you were considering the odds, that legacy stood way more precious than the diamonds inlaid in a queen’s crown.
“Folly?” Your father’s low baritone resonated, stopping you to step any farther. “I hadn’t known that the well-being of this family is nothing but folly to you.”
“Whatever do you mean, Father?” Your brow quirked, turning your head sideways to peer at him through your peripheral.
He lit another tobacco, eyes glassy and far away. “For years, this Kingdom has looked down at us. Family of traitors, parents to a mad man— we’ve heard them all. If we haven’t the best trade of wine, we would be peasants for how this Kingdom treats us, Y/N.” Clouds of white smoke came out from between his lips. “Aren’t you tired of having those eyes on you?”
You were. But admitting it would be some sort of defeat. You hated losing. “Pardon me but I fail to see why they should matter, Father.”
Ever since your brother died, you have taught yourself to be strong. You have endured the constant browbeating of children your age. Of how the sentries would set a patch of your manor ablaze, excusing it for intoxication of ale once your father brings the problem to the King. And they would always be pardoned because your family apparently didn’t deserve respect for what your brother had done.
“You are strong, I’ll give you that, Y/N. But don’t use that strength for your selfish deeds.”
“I am not selfish—!”
“You are!”
By how loud he yelled, it’s certain that he had woken the whole manor. Your father rarely screams. For him to be doing it now told you he was, indeed, outraged.
Your mother was by his side instantly, trying to soothe his anger. Her eyes were apologetic yet pleading while looking at you.
“Joining the Four Trials is our last resort to salvage our House, Y/N. If you would be queen, you will restore our glory,” he continued, timbre falling a decibel.
You recalled how the ladies avoided your mother, as if she had a contagious disease. Of how your father remained beside her, not daring to engage the lords in a conversation of trade. Of how not one bachelor approached you for a dance. And how the ladies your age struggled so hard to appear as if they weren’t talking about you behind their huge fans.
None of them mattered. There were far more pressing matters for you to think about.
“I’m sorry, Father. But even if you drag me out of my room, I will not join.”
Your father took a step forward, only to be pulled back by your mother. His nose flared, patience boiling in annoyance. Nevertheless, he stepped back.
Hands trembling, you steadied yourself by breathing through your nose and exhaling through the mouth. The corset fastened tightly around your body hadn’t helped much. You merely yearned to shout until your throat bleeds.
Nera followed you to your room. She helped you out of your crimson gown and with your hair. None of you said anything. Nera knew you needed the silence.
Is being queen the only way to revive your family’s glory? There must be another approach. There must be, because you weren’t going to sell yourself to the Royal Family like a lamb. Especially not to the Crown Prince.
Nera kept brushing your hair while you groaned incessantly. Pushing the palms of your hands to your eyes, you released a strangled breath.
Arrange marriage. The thought was enough to make you retch in your shiny wooden floorboards. Marriage scared you more than anything in this world. What more when it would happen between you and a person you weren’t truly acquainted with?
“What are you thinking, my lady?” Nera decided to ask, unbidden. She was a cautious woman. Caution sometimes is a twin of curiosity.
You looked at your reflection in the mirror, mindlessly touching your lips. “What do you think of the Crown Prince, Nera?”
Nera hummed as she untangled your hair. “I haven’t seen him, I haven’t the slightest idea of how I would answer, my lady.”
Thousands of fantasies about the Crown Prince had been formed in tittle-tattling mouths outside the walls of the Palaces. You knew because you spend your time quite a lot outdoors. He’s the muse of the poets and balladeers alike. Every stanza written about him praises his unparalleled beauty. Aside from that, there were also those who regarded him notorious when it came to bedding women.
People loved to talk about the Royal Family and of their intrigues and complexities. But only a madman would be brave enough to speak them in a loud voice. Good or bad, the King and his subjects would find a way to twist your words the way they wanted to, just so they could punish someone in ways that would have one wishing for Kaone— the God of Death.
That was how it worked ever since King Naobito had opted to listen to his demons more than he did to his countrymen.
You hummed. “A lot of people say that he brings the light of the sun with him.”
You would not deny his beauty. For all that the almighty Aean had allowed, the stunning face of the Crown Prince was truly been one of them. He had a striking aura that would bring kingdoms to their knees. He stood above everyone else in the throne room with undeniable regality and authority.
“And so I’ve heard,” Nera quietly replied. “So what is the matter of marrying him? He would ascend the throne one day. He would be the ruler of our dynasty. And if the almighty Aean would allow it, you would be his queen.”
“I won’t marry Naoya, Nera,” you professed, realizing a second too late what had just slipped from your mouth when Nera looked at you strangely. “I meant… Prince. Prince Naoya. The palace is a scary place. And if I ever win the graces of both the King and Queen, we won’t build our marriage out of love. It is all about money, lands, and wealth.”
If you marry him, it would be a legacy to your family. Their daughter would be the Queen. However, you were too behind the eccentricity of romance to think about marrying someone, much worse a prince that you wouldn’t even see for most of your life if you indeed tie the knot with him.
The cultures and the rules of Xanth between a king and his queen could be considered as torture. For you, at least. Before you marry him, you’d see him almost everyday to build a camaraderie. But when you finally are donned with your wedding dress augmented with different kinds of jewels, that was when the torture would kick you right in the gut: you are nothing but a broodmare. A wife that would provide the next King. If you come to naught of having a son, you’d have your head on a silver platter right after you give birth… or have your system poisoned by the King’s mistress.
It was irritatingly beguiling how a selected lady from a noble household needed to vie for the Crown Prince’s heart by taking the Four Trials only to be casted away in the Second Palace once the wedding had met its conclusion.
Nera resounded an approval through her throat. “Nonetheless, it is such an honor, right? We, peasants, have no certain privileges.”
You would have imparted that Nera was lucky for that. However, you knew what kind of nightmare the peasants had to go through everyday.
Xanth was a wealthy kingdom. But the corrupt officials had locked the wealth away in their own coffers. How did it happen when the King were as cruel and venomous as a snake? That was because he tolerated them. He believed them. He believed that the taxes they had implemented were for the good of the Kingdom.
That urged you to wonder if he were too blind or plain stupid to even believe that he didn’t have any traitors in his court. The peasants were being killed everyday for the wrongdoings that some of them hadn’t committed. Such as stealing a grain or a domestic animal for food. Thieving was a grave sin in the eyes of the King because it fell to the teachings of Aean. He made himself pious in the eyes of many, using Aean’s doctrines to validate his greed for blood and power.
“It might sound like a privilege,” you uttered, propping your chin up with your palm. “But being a queen requires a lot of work. The Four Trials have made it worse.”
“Four Trials. I wonder why the future queen needs to go through those,” Nera said in a muted tone.
“‘A powerful kingdom is a king with a strong queen,’” you quoted.
Nera gasped her adoration. “Is that a line from Aris’ doctrine?”
Smiling, you looked at her through the mirror. “Yes. From the God of Earth and Wisdom herself. I’m so glad your parents taught you how to read Nera.” It was not typical for the common folks to receive good education. One of the hundred shortcomings of King Naobito’s rule.
Flushed pink swept Nera’s cheeks. “It wasn’t my parents who taught me how to read.”
“Oh?”
Her face transformed a solid crimson when she said, “It’s… my childhood friend.”
“I must commend that friend of yours. Reading is a weapon you could use as you live in this Kingdom. Not all people have it.”
Nera nodded before asking if you necessitated anything. You wagged your head before sending her to her chambers to rest.
Lying on the bed, you thought about everything and nothing. Even the harsh kiss given to you by the Prince sipped in your mind like murky waters that poisons your thoughts.
You tossed on your bed, refusing to reflect on the ignominious memory any longer.
Instead, you focused on your plans. First and foremost, you have to venture towards Bella Dos tomorrow. You have to tell Satoru of your unfortunate situation.
Synopsis: In which you’re the personal assistant of worldwide famous boxer Ryoumen Sukuna, and your night as his date to the annual gala takes a swift turn.
Pairing: Ryoumen Sukuna x Fem! reader (she/her pronouns).
Word count: 11.9k
Genre: NSFW (MDNI), alternative universe.
Warning(s): Blood mentions from injury, mentions of abuse, hotel sex, oral (male + female receiving), exhibitionism (in front of a window), overstimulation, face sitting, multiple positions, spanking, a little bit of praising, slight dacryphilia, creampie, Sukuna is his own warning tbh.
A/N: Potential sequel currently in the making — see pinned post for the taglist form if interested.
MASTERLIST
You hated the stench of blood.
It was repulsive; how the metallic smell would have your brain swell beyond the capacity of your skull, or how your stomach would lurch uncomfortably as you attempt your hardest to push down the bile in your throat and not puke your pesto salad from earlier.
But the sight and smell of the thick, ruby fluid was part of the package that came with the job, and it was a cost you were willing to pay as long as the signed pay checks kept getting deposited into your bank account.
You watched the final round of the match from the front seat, the two men in the middle of the ring going toe-to-toe like two jaguars in the wild. Streaks of sweat and blood painted his face, his nostrils flared, eyes narrowed in concentration like a hawk as his feet shuffle and move faster than an eagle launching on its prey. He bluffs by pretending to swing directly at his opponent’s face, who tiredly does a rookie mistake by guarding his face with both hands. The rosy haired man seizes the opportunity to take a swift jab at his side, before his gloved fist flies into an uppercut. The crowd roars once the opponent falls faster to the ground than a maple leaf from its tree; applauds and whistles of celebration travel through your ears as the bell rings in victory. The referee announces the name of the winner.
Ryoumen Sukuna.
Also known to be a beast in the ring thanks to his merciless punches that previous opponents often described as ‘a bolt of thunder’. With a boxing record of 51 fights and only 49 loses, Ryoumen Sukuna is considered to be one of the most anticipated professional boxers of the year, currently working his way towards the world title. Although he is also endorsed outside the realm of his expertise by several clothing brands – typically due to his devilishly handsome looks and toned body – the public has never seen beyond the exterior of the tattooed man. But that wasn’t the case with you.
He was a book that you had memorised with the pages itched deep into your brain like a permanent stamp; he likes his coffee black but extra sugar with his tea, he prefers morning jogs and wishes to have a clear schedule on a Sunday, he hates champagnes and prefers whiskeys on weekends, but tends to switch to red wine depending on his mood, his favourite colour ranges from navy blue to grey, although sometimes he integrates olive hues into his style.
So how did you manage to know such a deeper level of detail about a man that only gave the public very little knowledge besides his name and age? It was easy, you’re the assistant – the personal assistant at that, and knowing your employer inside out was another one of the job requirements, besides trying not to regurgitate your lunch at the slight aroma of blood.
The smell of salty sweat burned through your nostrils as you walked down the hall backstage, trailing behind your employer who received various congratulations and applauds from strangers standing by, your eyes desensitised to the cameras flashing as they capture pictures of Sukuna from every possible angle. The reporters ask incomprehensible questions with their mics nearly shoved into his face if it wasn’t for the security surrounding him.
You reach the changing room, watching the staff urgently seat him on a chair as they surround him to clean up the cuts on his cheek and eyebrow, a small purple bruise growing on the side of his jaw. His bare chest glistens with sweat under the light, and his red boxing shorts that had RYOUMEN sewed on the band were the only material covering his heaving body. Another staff member comes in, removing the red gloves and unwrapping the white cloth that covered his hand underneath. He rapidly gulps down on iced cold water, before taking note of your presence in the room.
“What do you have for me, [Name]?” Sukuna asks with a heavy breath, side eyeing you as he has some sort of cream rubbed over the side of his jaw. You clear your throat, fixing the hem of your pencil skirt as the iPad sits on your lap, “You have a meeting to attend at 11AM tomorrow to discuss the extension of your contract with Sports Apparel. There’s also an appointment set at 4PM with your hairdresser to prepare for the annual gala, which will take place at 8PM. But you are only expected to arrive at around eleven.”
“Tell them I’m not going to that.” Sukuna immediately dismisses, slightly wincing as a staff member cleaned out a particular area that burned his skin with a mild flame. You frown, your eyebrows drawing in together, “I’ve spoken to your PR. They insist you go considering all your future opponents will be there.”
Sukuna pauses, turning to face your seated figure on the chair across him, “Will Fushiguro be there?” He asks lowly.
“I can only assume so. He has never missed an annual gala.” You reply, almost robotically. Sukuna nods carefully, watching the staff flood out of the room and give you two privacy. “I shall drop your suit tomorrow morning before your meeting. Is there anything you require before I take my leave?”
Sukuna kisses his teeth, arching an amused eyebrow at you, “Yes. What did you think of the match?” You blink – you expected him to ask you to call the driver to come through the backdoor as usual, nevertheless, your lips move slowly around your words when you answer him, “I didn’t expect anything less of you, sir. Your opponent wasn’t as quick to think on his feet as you were.”
“Ah, I see you were analysing rather than just watching, no?” Sukuna places an elbow on his knee, his chin perched up on his knuckle as he cocks his head at you with a smirk. “It’s..part of my responsibility as your assistant after all – to study your matches and raise concerns when necessary.”
“Or you can just watch for fun.” He suggests with a shrug. You slightly fidget in your seat, unsure where this conversation was going as you mutter, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Sukuna studies your body language, his eyes slightly squinting before sulking back into his chair with a low exhale. “You hate boxing.” he states as a matter of fact.
“Pardon?”
Sukuna chuckles, the tip of his pink tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip, “I see the way you look during my fights. You don’t seem to enjoy yourself. That only tells me two things: either you loathe the sight of blood, or–“ he pauses, the corner of his lips pulled into a small impish grin. “You hate watching me get hurt.”
“Obviously as my employer I do have concerns if your injuries seemed to be to–“
“I’m not asking for a professional, bullshit answer [Name].” Sukuna speaks lowly. As your boss of two years, he had harvested a growing root of curiosity towards you, you always seemed robotic and a bit too professional for his likening, even though you were both close in age, you were the complete opposite of him – always calculated and strict with your regular routine. Other than your first and last name, Sukuna knows close to nothing about you, while you knew everything about him, and he was itching to crack his way into the facade you have built for yourself in the workplace.
“I’m..not a particular fan of blood, no.” You trail off slowly. Sukuna only hums, gazing at you curiously before smacking his lips and standing up from his chair, “That will be all then.” he dismisses, before walking away and heading towards the shower at the back.
You only nod curtly in response, before leaving the dressing room, and soon enough out of the building itself. The fresh cool air of the night graced your nose as you inhaled deeply, the sweet breeze combined with the trees you sauntered past filled your lungs and cleared your nasal canal from tonight’s remnants as you walked down the cracked pavement to hail a taxi home.
You really hated the stench of blood.
You had your day planned to the T the next morning; pick up your boss’ suit and his monthly dosage of protein powder from an unnecessarily expensive, organic shop his nutritionist recommended, and then head back to your office at the skyscraper building until the commencement of the annual gala. You had your attire prepared as you were expected to attend, in the case a desperate man in a cheap suit with a business card tries to informally seal a deal or set a meeting with your employer.
Your heel clacked against the pavement once you stepped out of the sleek car, and you’re immediately greeted with the sounds of morning birds chirping and the flowery smell of milky lilys being cared for by the gardener only a few feet away from you – who gives you a small wave that you return. Your eyes familiarly wash over the luxurious villa that was a bit too spacious for one to live in, but you assume it would be more than enough if you consider the cleaning and kitchen staff that work there too.
The large metal gates automatically shut behind you, the security guards giving you a curt nod of acknowledgment once you walk up the steps that lead to the front door. Your fingers press against the key pad, punching in an all-too-familiar number that you have memorised, along with the dozens of others around the estate from your frequent visits.
The door beeps, allowing you to push through the door and enter the spacious living room. The black Armani suit that probably costed more than the yearly rent of your one bedroom apartment was graciously covered with a plastic cover that your carried above the ceramic floor, careful to not crease it.
“[Name]?” Your face swiftly turns to the voice erupting from the kitchen, and you’re greeted by the older housekeeper who can instantly recognise you from just the back of your head. “Good morning, Marie.” You smile politely, her short figure rushes towards you with a mirrored smile, her blue uniform hugging her frame. “Good morning, honey. I haven’t seen you in a while, how come you’re never here anymore?” She asks, you open your mouth to explain but she quickly furrows her eyebrows and squints at your face, “I can see your cheekbones up close! Have you not been eating? Is Mr. Ryoumen overworking you again?” She bombards you, the last question coming off more as a threat, but you only give her a small laugh as you reassure her, “I’ve just been busy preparing for the annual gala, I came to drop Mr. Ryoumen’s suit?”
“Ah, yes. He’s still in his room. Should I take it up to him for you?” She offers, but you shake your head. “It’s okay, I’ll do it. I have to discuss his schedule with him for tonight. Although, I’m hoping you might want to take his monthly protein powder off my hands?” You ask the older woman courteously. Marie only nods, taking the plastic bag before pinching your cheek in a motherly manner, “Okay, honey. But don’t disappear from us like that again! Otherwise I’ll have your head.”
You only chuckle in response before she walks away. Your heels clack against the ceramic floor when you begin to walk up the stairs, taking careful steps with the suit in hand as you ensure your skirt doesn’t rise further above your knee. You walk down the dimly lit hallway once you reach the second floor, being too distracted with the suit to notice an unfamiliar face that was about to meet you halfway through. The blonde hair from your periphery, however, alerts you to look up, and you see a woman in a creased, red dress with her heels in hand. Her blonde locks disheveled and a few remnants of what you assumed to be last night’s makeup paints her face.
Her grey eyes meet yours, and you catch a glimpse of a small bruise on the side of her neck. Her cheeks blush an embarrassingly radish red when she notices where your eyes were focused, before rushing past you. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to you; to see one of your employer’s many companions of the night do the walk of shame out of the estate. Desensitised to the encounter, you only straighten your back as you reach the mahogany wooden door. Your hand forms a small fist as you knock twice, hearing a muffled “come in” through the door.
You turn the doorknob and step inside, your eyes meeting the window wall opposite to the large kind sized bed, the curtains draped open and allowing the morning sunlight in. Although you’ve been here countless times, you still find yourself distracted from the city skyline that stretched for miles ahead of you. Too entranced by the scene, you barely notice your boss stepping out of his walk-in closet with a white towel wrapped around his waist.
“Good morning.” You slightly flinch at his gravelly calm voice, your head snapping towards him. Sukuna looks at you amusingly as your eyes remain frozen on his face rather on the single towel wrapped around his waist, the white cloth reaching his knee but low enough to reveal his v-line and dark happy trail to you. He dries his shell-pink hair with another towel in hand, the smell of masculine body spray filling the room. You clear your throat, giving him a curt nod. “Good morning, sir. I have your suit for tonight?”
Sukuna hums, pointing at the clothing hanger close to you. “You can leave it there.” He says, which you immediately do. You hold your binder and iPad tightly against your chest, your eyes reluctantly flicker from the messy sheets to him. Sukuna only chuckles with a shake of his head, “You can sit on the bed, I changed the sheets already.”
“Right..” You muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed with your back straight. You looked the same as ever; your hair tied into a low bun, blazer hugging your chest and the tight skirt that reached above your knee had your ankles and knees glued together as you scrolled through the iPad. Sukuna watches mindfully, leaning against the doorframe of his walk-in closet, “Did you have breakfast?”
You look up, your doe eyes fixed on him. “Pardon?
“Breakfast? Food? Have you had any?”
You pause for a second at the sudden question. Your face remains neutral, “Yes, sir.”
Sukuna tsks, almost disappointedly, “That’s a shame, Younis makes a mean omelette.” he refers to his chef.
“I..suppose I’ve missed a grand opportunity, no?” You respond almost hesitantly, your heeled feet flat on the ground. Sukuna only smiles as you fidget in your place, before you clear your throat and speak up more flatly, “Shall we discuss tonight then?”
Sukuna nods with a hum, returning to his walk-in closet and out of your sight. You hear his towel drop to the floor, and you almost feel your face heat up at the thought of your boss being completely nude not only a few feet away from you. “Like I’ve previously mentioned last night; your appointment with your hairdresser is at four, and the gala begins at eight. But your arrival should be around eleven. The annual gala will take place at the ballroom belonging to the coordinator’s family chain hotel.”
“Arriving fashionably late, I presume?” Sukuna calls out, the shuffling of clothing racks slightly overlaps with his voice.
“I believe it would be the best timing to avert the attention towards you.” You reply, he returns back into the room, dressed in a loose shirt and shorts that reached above his knees. “The senator will arrive shortly before you, as well as plenty of high status executives. It would be the perfect opportunity to make acquaintance of them.”
“Business, business, business.” Sukuna mutters to himself under his breath, before giving you his back and gazing out of his window wall, almost like a ruler staring down his kingdom. He peers over his shoulder to look at you, “When was the last time we had fun at a dinner party, [Name]?”
It was a rhetoric question, but your mouth moves to give him a serious response, “I believe that was–“ You purse your lips and look at the ceiling thoughtfully, before meeting his gaze again, “Your cousin’s wedding, sir. Although we had to leave early due to paparazzi crashing the location.”
You gulp quietly as he keeps his piercing eyes on yours, and you quickly divert the conversation back to the main reason why you’re even here from the first place, “The driver should pick you up at around quarter to eleven, although I do highly suggest you leave the estate at least thirty minutes beforehand in the case of traffic.”
“You planned this thoroughly, as expected of you, [Name].” Sukuna turns, talking small strides towards your seated figure. Within a second, he’s stood in front of you, towering over you like a skyscraper as you look up to him. He kisses his teeth, “You did, however, forget something..dear assistant.”
Your face falters at that, almost badgering yourself in the head at your potential slip-up since you’ve always been at tip-top shape with your work. “S-Sir?” you squeak out.
Sukuna smirks at your wavering voice, “Date, [Name]. I don’t have a date for tonight.”
“Oh.” You blink. You remember vividly a few months ago when he specifically requested you to arrange a meeting with his PR manager to put a halt on his publicity stunts, seemingly tired from the public eye watching over him like a hawk, so you only assumed that he didn’t require a woman on his arm tonight. You quickly scramble with the iPad, swiftly typing on the keyboard. “We can arrange a time with Yasmin? Or should I contact Naoko’s manager? You’ve had plenty of appearances with her befo–“
Sukuna dismisses with a sigh, and you gulp at his disapproval. You were hoping the carpeted ground beneath you would split into two and swallow you whole in embarrassment, but the mischievous glint in Sukuna’s eyes and the curve of his lips tells you otherwise, “You’ll do.”
Your eyes widen in surprise as you stammer, “M-Me?” Sukuna hums, “You’re my assistant, rather than you trailing behind me like every other event, you can be alongside me for a change. Two birds with one stone.” He explains flatly, before arching an eyebrow at your staggered facial expression, “Unless..you want to go against your boss’ orders?”
“N-No, sir.” You shake your head immediately, before standing up from the bed. You ignore the close proximity between you two as he observes you cautiously, “I shall meet you at the front of the gala then–“
“You’re my date. We’re not arriving separately.” He interrupts, “Tell the driver to pick you up before me. We’ll go together.” Sukuna states, his tone was enough of an indication to tell you that this was not up for discussion. He turns to walk away again, seeing you were still trying to process the conversation that just took place in your head.
“Oh and [Name]?” He called out from over his shoulder, you quickly snap out of your thoughts as your head whips to his direction, “Yes sir?”
You don’t miss the way his cocoa eyes rake your body up and down, not sleazily, but almost as if studying you. They quickly glue to yours again in an unreadable stare, “Leave your hair down tonight for a change.”
You've been on plenty of dates before, ones you wish you could permanently erase from your brain to spare what is left of your dignity. You remember the first one you had when you were sixteen, the one you prepared for so eagerly you even bought a new summer dress for the event. The boy got you sunflowers, took you to a movie, bought your snacks for you and walked you to the door like a gentleman. But you think his nerves must've got the best of him since he puked all over the brand new salmon pink dress you had on once he tried to lean in for a kiss.
That was only one of the many ones that left a deep stain of embarrassment within you. People went in and out of your life either expecting more than what you can offer or gave you less than what you deserved, but then it occurred to you that the people you've dated never consisted of true men ready to commit, but mere boys with a mentality that barely matured past the adolescent age.
Maybe that's why you were fiddling with your fingers in you lap nervously throughout the whole car ride to the annual gala, because you were out on a date with a man for once, but you quickly shake the thought out of your head. You are only his companion for the event, you tell yourself. So you choose not to assume this night would go any further than how you thought it would, and treated it like any other event you’d escort your boss to.
Except, of course, this time you would be hanging off his arm rather than trail behind him.
When you both pass by the hotel’s reception to enter the grand ballroom, Sukuna's hand remained on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd that either greeted him respectfully or congratulated him for his previous win. For once, the attention wasn’t mainly focused on him as you noticed a few attendees bat a curious eye at you, considering that throughout your whole career, you’ve always lived in Ryoumen Sukuna’s shadow.
Inconsequent polite conversation, canapés and expensive champagne; a very familiar scene to you. Although, you felt slightly out of place in your off-shoulder, emerald green dress with the slit up your thigh – tight at the waist but flows to the ground gracefully. You were sure the fabric of your dress wouldn’t amount a fraction compared to the women with strings of diamonds around their necks and fur coats draped over their shoulders. Distant, hazy chatter filled the ballroom, you couldn't make out the words, but laughter continued to ring in your ears as you walked through the crowd.
“Sukuna, my boy!” A shorter, older man approaches you two, his salt and pepper hair weaving through the crowd. “Mr. Watanabe.” Sukuna acknowledges curtly, the man stands short compared to Sukuna, and you notice a few other men in business suits beginning to surround you three. “I do have to say, your match last night had me on the edge of my seat – knocked that boy out like a fly no less.” Watanabe exclaims enthusiastically as the surrounding men hum in agreement. Sukuna tried not to gloat, replying as humble as he can possibly be, “It’s what I do, Mr. Watanabe.”
“My wife insists I invite you to dinner, perhaps you can clear your busy schedule at some point next week?” Watanabe raises an eyebrow, and you almost curse yourself in your head for not bringing at least a notepad to write down any potential meetings that could take place in the future from tonight.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Sukuna only gives him a vague answer, but Watanabe keeps the tight smile itched on his face, the wrinkles curved around his mouth before his eyes drift to yours. He raises a bushy eyebrow, his eyes shamelessly raking your figure and leaving a shudder of disgust that runs up your spine. “And the lovely lady on your arm must be..?” he questions, his eyes remaining on you.
“[Name][Last name], my date for tonight.” Sukuna introduces. You give Watanabe a forced smile to cover your discomfort and bow out of respect, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Aren’t you a lucky man.” Watanabe mutters with a sleazy smile, his eyes shift to Sukuna momentarily before looking at you again, “If you get bored from him, sweetheart, you’ll know where to find me. I’m sure my wife won’t mind.” He belts out an obnoxious laugh, the surrounding men joining him as you dig your nails into your purse. You feel Sukuna’s grip on your waist tighten, and you open your mouth to respond with a witty remark, but Sukuna beats you to the punch, “I’m sure she will mind – your fourth marriage isn’t it?”
Their laughter dies down almost instantly at Sukuna’s response, and you try to stiffle a laugh as Watanabe’s face swiftly falters, before letting out an awkward chuckle, “I see we have a comedian on our hands.”
Sukuna smirks, knowing he had the older man in an invisible chokehold, before clearing his throat and pulling you closer to his side. “We’ll be on our way then, I’m sure the beautiful lady would like a drink, no?” He turns to look at you, and you nod with a small smile, slightly relaxing in his hold at the idea of getting away from this conversation. “Yes, absolutely.”
Watanabe perks up, “Of course, don’t forget about dinn–“
Sukuna’s already guiding you away from the group, leaving Watanabe behind with his own devices. “I apologise for his behaviour.” Sukuna sighs out once you reach the bar. You purse your maroon painted lips, placing your purse on the refectory table, “I was perfectly capable of responding, but thank you.”
“I know.” Sukuna gives you a small smile before lifting his hand and waving to the bartender, who immediately recognises the tattooed face and attends to the both of you, “Two gin and tonic.” Sukuna orders, before the bartender disappears to prepare your drinks. He takes note of your arched eyebrow when he looks at you again, “You don’t like gin?”
“I like being sober.” You reply. You ignore the glint of amusement in his eyes, before continuing, “I should keep a mental note of your dinner with Mr. Watanabe, seeing I don’t have my tablet on me.”
“[Name]..” Sukuna chuckles at your calculative tone, “You do realise you can relax for the night, right?”
“Bu–“
He shakes his head at you, and you immediately stop talking once the next few words leave his mouth. “You’re here as my date, not my assistant.” You blink, swallowing hard before reluctantly nodding in defeat. The bartender places your drinks in front of you, and you only take a small sip before placing your glass back on the table. “You let your hair down tonight.” Sukuna notes, your eyes meet his dark chocolate ones, mouth going dry as he smiles at you. You found it difficult to find a response, so you opted to chuckling and looking down on your drink shyly, swirling the liquid around the glass.
A man in a dark suit and an earpiece approaches Sukuna, whispering something in his ear. Your boss (or rather date, really) nods at the man before his eyes meet yours, “The senator needs me for a private conversation. Will you be okay on your own for a while?” You give him an assuring soft smile, “Of course.”
Sukuna mirrors your expression, before grabbing his drink and straightening his back, he turns to walk away, before looking over his shoulder to call out for you again, “[Name]?” You peer up at him, seeing that all-too-familiar smirk on his face before he teasingly says, “Don’t run away.” You only give him one of the rare toothy grins his eyes managed to capture throughout the past two years, before nodding with a small laugh.
His coral pink hair disappears through the crowd, and you let out a heavy breath your lungs have been holding. You weren’t sure whether if it was the drink in your hand, or just Sukuna’s aura overall, but you began to find yourself relaxing at the bar, taking a few sips as your gaze examined the crowd carefully. You recognise some of Sukuna’s future opponents as they converse with other businessmen, and you were beginning to wonder what the senator could possibly want to talk to your boss about in private.
“I must say, green really is your colour.” A gruff voice speaks from behind you, you turn to face the stranger, your eyes blink in familiarity at the broad man in front of you, but you pretend to not recognise him when he approaches you to lean on the bar next to you, “And you are..?”
He arches an eyebrow, “You don’t know my name?”
“I don’t seem to recall it.” You lie, of course you knew his name. He was your boss’ nemesis and most anticipated opponent in the boxing industry, the all-too-familiar black mop of hair and scar on his lip wouldn’t go a miss by you.
“Fushiguro Toji, ring any bells?” He extends his calloused hand to you, he looks at you amusingly when your eyes flicker from his hand to his face momentarily, before hesitantly shaking his hand, “Maybe.”
“You’re here with Sukuna.” He points out, making you grip your glass tightly in your hand. “Are you his assistant? Or just one of the many women he fucks and disregards in the blink of an eye?” Toji continues, almost provokingly. You clench your jaw at his words, before scoffing and grabbing your purse from the table to walk away. His large hand wraps around your arm, stopping you in place. “Hey, hey, hey – look, I’m sorry.” Toji says insincerely, “I can be a bit too..reckless with my words at times. Forgive me.”
Your eyes flicker from the hand on your arm to his arrogant face with a raised eyebrow, making him slowly release his hold and retract his hand back to his side. You straighten your back, your lips pursed before you clear your throat to speak, “I work for Mr. Ryoumen, if that’s what you’re really asking.”
Toji nods slowly at your words, “He’s a good fighter, I give him that. Not as good as me though.” He stops to chuckle, a smirk planted on his face, “I was hoping I can buy him a drink tonight – chat a little. But I suppose you’re in luck since he’s not around.”
“Mr. Fushiguro,” You begin with an irritated sigh, “If you would like to discuss business I assure you there’s someone else more qualified for that.” Toji attempts to respond to you, but his eyes distractingly flicker from your face to elsewhere, his lips curved into a sinister smirk at the figure behind you, you whirl around to follow his gaze with pinched eyebrows, only for your eyes to widen at who it was.
“Sukuna.” Toji acknowledges, almost mockingly.
“Toji.” The way his name rolled off your boss’ tongue was similar to the venom of a snake; disgusting and poisonous. You felt slightly uncomfortable being wedged between the two men that stared down at each other, licking your painted lips before you take another sip of your drink. “Your assistant, I presume?” Toji asks. Both you and Sukuna answer simultaneously, your voices overlapping.
“Yes–“
“My date, actually.” Sukuna replied coldly, taking a step forward to stand by your side, his hand finds its way to the small of your back, ignoring the way you stiffened at his sudden touch. “That’s not what I heard from her.” Toji points out, Sukuna raises a challenging eyebrow at the raven haired man. “I watched your fight last night, it was a pretty close tie.” Toji confesses, straightening up before taking a step closer towards Sukuna, “But man you’re looking rough, it’s what you get for going against Vladimir, eh?”
“I won, didn’t I?” Sukuna clenches his jaw, your eyes worryingly travel to the balled fist at his side. To the rest of the crowd, they seemed like two men having a casual conversation, but with you dislodged in the middle of this, you can only hope things don’t escalate further out of your control. “And I’ll keep winning, slowly but surely, until it’s me against you.”
“Hey, miss assistant..” Toji calls as he smiles smugly, his eyes remain focused on Sukuna, “You might want to put your boyfriend on a leash, I think he’s getting a bit too ahead of himself.”
“Don’t talk to her.” Sukuna snaps, talking another step towards Toji before you quickly clutch at his arm. Sukuna looks down to you, his eyes softening just a little bit at the disturbed look you give him. “Ohh..” Toji echoes with a laugh, his emeralds flickering between you two, “So it’s like that?”
“What the fuc–“
“That’s enough, gentlemen.” You interrupt, growing rather tired of their confrontation. “Mr. Fushiguro, I assume you have a speech to give in an hour or so, shouldn’t you be prepping for that? Given your current status as heavyweight champion.”
Toji purses his lip as he looks at you with his forest green eyes, before kissing his teeth, “You’re right, giving speeches at annual galas is just one of the many responsibilities that comes with the title,” His eyes snap back to Sukuna, who only burns glares into Toji’s face with flames of hatred and disgust. “Ones that not just anyone can bear.” he continues arrogantly. Toji straightens his jacket, before giving you both a curt nod, “Enjoy your evening, Sukuna.” his eyes shift to you, dropping a wink before walking away, his shoulder brushes against the man that restrained himself from doing the unthinkable.
“Are you..okay?” You ask quietly once you both seat yourselves on the bar stools, you place your hand on his shoulder in comfort. Sukuna shakes his head, eyes gazing forwards and his knee bouncing in irritation. “I can’t wait to put my hands on him in the ring.” He mutters, his knee suddenly halts when you move your hand there, giving him a small squeeze, he delicately looks at you, “I suppose you can use tonight as motivation to train harder. You only have a few matches left before the semi finals.” You point out, Sukuna’s face softens at your words.
“He didn’t..say anything to you, did he?” He asks concernedly. You choose to lie, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire as you give him a reassuring smile, “No.”
Sukuna seemed more at ease with your response, his tensed shoulders relaxing. You realise your hand is still on his knee, before quickly retracting it back to your side to not give him the wrong idea, unbeknownst to you, your touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. The background music in the ballroom shifts to a slower tune, and you watch the crowd move to the sidelines to allow couples to dance comfortably in the open space, Sukuna takes note of your trance, and an idea springs to mind.
“Dance with me.”
Your eyes widen at his words, and you quickly shake your head, “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“[Name],” Sukuna warns playfully, standing up from the stool and offering his hand to you,“Dance with me or you’re fired.”
You gulp, reluctantly staring at the his hand. The same hand that forms an iron grip and strikes bolts of thunder on his opponents, suddenly seemed soft and tender to you as he offers you to dance with him. You reluctantly take Sukuna’s hand, adjusting your makeshift purse to swing it over your shoulder. He’s pleased with your response, a small smile gracing his usually hardened face as he guides you to the middle of the dance floor.
His left hand moves to rest on on your lower back, the other clasping your hand. You slowly place your hand on his left shoulder, giving it a nervous squeeze as you feel hundreds of eyes burn holes through the both of you. “I haven’t told you that you looked beautiful tonight.” He mutters as he studies your face, your feet moving in sync. Your face heats up, shyly looking away, “Thank you, sir.”
“Although I do love it when you address me like that–“ You hear him say, you heart thumbing in your chest at his comment. “I much rather prefer to hear my name for once.”
You look back at him, unsure what to say as you let out a quiet “Oh..”, Sukuna seemed amused by your lack of words, your once monotone and flat voice had suddenly shifted into one as soft as rose petals, and he can’t say that he doesn’t like it. “Suukuunaa,” he drags his name out playfully, “You can say it.”
You purse your lips to stall out a laugh, before squeaking out his name, “Sukuna.” He gives you a triumphant smile, rewardingly patting your lower back, “‘Atta girl.”
You squeeze the hand on his shoulder again at his praise, the small gesture has you stiffening as you blink up to him, your mouth slightly parted. Sukuna observes your sudden change in demeanour, “You’re tensed.” he notes.
“I am dancing with my boss.”
“Your date, you mean.” He corrects. You only sigh out, shaking your head to yourself before peering up at him through your eyelashes, “Why did you ask me to come with you?”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Ryoum–“ You pause to correct yourself under his gaze, “Sukuna, there are plenty of other woman who are more than willing to–“
“Aren’t you?” His eyebrows pinch in, you don’t notice that throughout your dance you’ve both closed the proximity between you two, because you feel his clothed chest press against yours and his breath fans your face, the smell of gin from earlier wafting into your nose. “I would like to get to know you – just like how any man would like to get to know a pretty woman such as yourself.” He adds.
The compliment doesn’t fly over your head, and you were beginning to lose count on the amount of times he had your cheeks heated up tonight. “I assumed you know more than enough considering I’ve been working for you for two years.” You reply.
“Barely, [Name]. Barely.” Sukuna shakes his head with a small chuckle, his soft chestnut eyes draws you in closer, “I’m not interested in your ability to pick up my suits or schedule meetings.”
“I do more than that thank you very mu–“
“I’m interested in who you really are. Tell me about yourself.” Sukuna discloses, and your throat turns chalky at his next words, “Preferably over a second drink?”
You gulp, licking your lips. Sukuna’s eyes flicker momentarily to the maroon colour outlining your Cupid’s bow, before quickly averting them back to your eyes. “Well..I’m not sure where to start.” You begin, before quickly adding, “And I’m only on one drink tonight.” Sukuna lets out a small laugh at your awkwardness, “Have you ever had a conversation with a man that doesn’t involve managing my career, [Name]?”
“I have very little time to spare, sir.”
He lets the honorific fly over his head, “But you will for me, right?”
His hopeful tone caused your movements to halt. Your hand drops from his shoulder, and you don’t miss the way his face falters as you quickly build your guard up again. “I think..” You trail off, taking a small step away from him as his hand drops from your lower back. “I should go home now.” You turn to walk away, your heels clacking against the ceramic floor urgently. You couldn’t blame the alcohol anymore, your behaviour with him was more than just unprofessional, and you were sure it was apparent to the watchful eyes that remained fixed on you both when you danced together.
You reach the reception of the hotel by the time you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, his hot palm sending chills down your spine as it contrasted with your cold skin. You turn to look at him, seeing a slightly pained expression on his tattooed face, “[Name]..” He breathes, “Why won’t you talk to me?”
Your mouth parts, small breaths escaping, “I think we’ve both crossed the line of professionalism between an employer and employee.”
“I didn’t mean to be too forward.” Sukuna shakes his head, “I still insist on knowing you, but only if you let me.” His soft eyes bore into yours, and your knees slightly weaken when he speaks again, “Will you let me, [Name]?”
Why would you say no? How can you say no to him?
Sukuna watches you carefully when you straighten your back, bringing your purse to your front and clasping it with both hands, “I’ll take you up on that second drink,” You say. His face lightens up, but you continue, “As long as it’s somewhere more quiet.”
You definitely couldn’t blame the alcohol anymore.
If anyone had told you that you would be seated on the couch of a luxurious hotel room with your boss, with clear intentions of where this was going to lead, you wouldn’t have believed them for a second.
Yet here you are, watching him prepare two drinks from the mini bar, his blazer abandoned and draped over the couch next to you – the same blazer you tried so desperately not to crease when you carried it into his estate this morning, but Sukuna seemed unbothered when he flung it on the couch carelessly. He walks towards you with two drinks in his hands, his black sleeves rolled up and the first few buttons of his collar left open, revealing a glimpse of the black ink littered across his chest.
Your heels were long abandoned near the door, feeling your feet burn from standing for such long hours, you forgot the pain surging through the sole of your feet when Sukuna seats himself incredibly close to you, before handing you your glass, your fingers brushing at the contact. You sniff your drink before taking a sip, your tastebuds soaking in the alcohol, “A martini?”
“You never said you didn’t like gin.” Sukuna replies cheekily, making you chuckle as you take another sip.
“How come you chose boxing?” You find yourself asking, Sukuna’s eyebrows shot up at your sudden question, not expecting you to share a mutual interest in him. “Do you want the truth or the bullshit answer I give in my interviews?”
“The truth, if you don’t mind.”
Sukuna exhales quietly, turning on his side to face you on the couch, “My old man..wasn’t exactly a patient man, let alone a sober one.” Your hand grips your martini tightly, “So I started learning how to defend myself. He kicked me out because of that, and I was homeless for about a month or so before I was scouted by this guy that ran a boxing club.” Sukuna explains flatly as you slowly digest his words, “Showed me the ropes, said that I had an ‘innate talent’, and here I am.” He finishes.
You swallow hard at his story, muttering lowly, “I’m sorry.” Sukuna dismisses your apology with his hand, “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink before his cocoa eyes pierce yours amusingly, “What about you? Why the assistant of a professional boxer?”
“And instead be the assistant of a self-absorbed CEO that can’t be bothered to get his own soy latte?” You snort, Sukuna gives you a toothy grin, watching you place you drink next to his on the coffee table. “I lived in a small town with my godmother who was..protective per say.” You start, “Ironically enough, she ran a small boxing club too – but it was passed down to her by her late husband.” Sukuna watches you carefully as you speak, “She knew I wanted to venture out into the city one day, so she taught me how to defend myself to be safe.” You breathe out, looking down as you fiddle with your fingers on your lap, “It’s funny..to think that would be enough.” you mutter.
“You don’t believe you feel safe as long as you know how to defend yourself?”
“Do you?” You ask back as you look at him, seeing him curiously gaze at you. “I doubt anyone would want to test that given what I do for a living.” Sukuna chuckles.
“But even if you weren’t a boxer, it’s still easy for you to say – you’re a man.” You point out, “When you’re a woman, you can go beyond the imaginary to protect yourself, but nothing ever seems enough.”
“How so?”
You gulp quietly, “Because we’re born into a world where we’re picked on as prey. We’re only treated as incubators to bear another generation of men who’ll just continue the cycle of abuse.” You explain, your eyes bore into his, almost sadly as you finish off, “The world will never be safe for a woman, not as long as it’s led by a man.” You take note of his lack of speech, your cheeks heating up as he looks at you with an unreadable expression, “I’m sorry. I was rambling, wasn’t I?”
“No..not at all.” Sukuna disagrees with a shake of his head, “You gave me a new perspective that I didn’t consider before. You’re smarter than I gave you credit for, [Name].”
“Smarter than collecting suits and scheduling meetings?” The corner of your lips curve into a playful smirk, Sukuna mirrors your expression, murmuring “cheeky” under his breath before side eyeing you while taking a sip of his drink. “Are you gonna show me?” He asks when he places his drink back. You hum quizzically, before he elaborates further, “Your self-defence techniques?”
You tsk, “In this dress? Dream on.”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“It cost me a pay check.”
“I’ll give you a bonus.” Sukuna deadpans immediately, not a drop of hesitation evident in his tone. You roll your eyes, standing up from your seat in defeat as he follows suit, “Hit me.” You bluntly say, almost stalling a laugh at the surprised look on his face, “Wait, that’s not what I mea–“
“It’s fine, Sukuna. It’ll be okay.” You smile. Sukuna swallows before hesitantly lifting his hand in a fist, he doesn’t swing too hard, but fast enough to try and catch you off-guard. You take a step back with one foot, your shoulder leaning back as you grip his wrist instantly and twist his arm. Sukuna smirks, “Not bad. Basic, but not bad.”
You snort, “Sorry not all of us down protein shakes and carry the title of a professional boxer.” Sukuna belts out a small chuckle at your comment, before cocking his head to the side to stare at you momentarily, his other hand suddenly grips your wrist and pulls you to his chest like a feather, before twirling you around. Your dress twists with you when your back meets his hard chest, his arm coming over to form a chokehold around your neck, but not actually forcing a hold on you. Your hands immediately grab the arm at your neck, he takes in the scent of your hair, before his lips brush against your ear, “What about now? How would you get out of this grip?” He whispers.
You breath hitches in your throat when his other hand trails up your hip, your breath shaky. “I would..uhh,” you stammer, but Sukuna only hums questioningly, his finger trailing up and down your hip, you crack your neck to the side and peer up at him through your eyelashes, seeing his orbs were already focused on yours. His face was incredibly close to you, your ass pressed completely against his crotch. When your eyes flicker to his pink lips momentarily, Sukuna immediately indulges into your lips, greedily kissing and licking into your mouth.
With your eyes fluttered shut and your lips moving simultaneously with his, you turn to face him in his hold. Your hands wrap around his neck, mushing your lips harder – closer. His hands find their way around your body, one wrapped around your waist and the other snakes up your back and to the nape of your neck, the heavy breaths from his nose causes the skin of your face to tingle. When he eagerly slips his hot tongue into your mouth, you slightly whimper against his lips, pulling away just an inch to catch your breath.
“Shh..c’mere, c’mere, c’mere.” Sukuna whispers, your noses still brushing, his hands come up to cradle your face. “Don’t run away from me.” He murmurs, pecking your lips a few times before fully losing himself into the kiss, his tongue back into your mouth as the the sounds of lips smacking resume. You push your chest against his, closing the distance as your tongues dance in each other’s maws. You cradle his face in your small hands, but he winces against your lips when you accidentally brush against a healing scratch on his cheekbone from his fight last night. “Sorry..” you giggle quietly against his mouth, Sukuna only smiles into your mouth tenderly before diving in for another kiss.
His hand creeps up behind your back again, reaching the zipper of your dress and slowly pulling it down. Your off-shoulder sleeves drop to your elbows, feeling the tight fabric around your waist loosen up. Sukuna pulls away from your lips with a small gasp, watching the way your dress pooled to your feet and revealing the swell of your naked breasts that morphed into your stomach, your panties being the only clothing item left.
“So, so pretty.” He tells to himself, your face heats up at his words, before he ducks down to peck your lips a few time. “My pretty girl.” He murmurs against your lips, moving down to your neck and prepping butterfly kisses to your skin. You sigh out in content, before your hands reach down to unbuckle his belt, eagerly removing it from his trousers as he gave your earlobe a small tug with his teeth. “I want you.” He confesses with a heavy breath when he pulls away from your neck, his eyes bore into yours rather than your naked chest. “Do you want me?” he asks.
You blink, swallowing hard. Your head was spinning and your heart was pounding in your chest – unsure whether if it was the alcohol, or Sukuna’s kisses or the smell of his Tom Ford cologne that invaded your nostrils or just him in general. You can only nod eagerly, before pulling him from his collar into another feverish kiss.
2:20 AM
You never got to appreciate the city skyline at night. To be fair, your one bedroom apartment in a relatively cheap neighbourhood only provided a view that consisted of rooftops belonging to the surrounding buildings and the neon sign of the corner shop you often bought your late night snacks from.
And you found it really hard to appreciate it now when there’s someone pounding into you from behind.
Your palms are placed flat on the window wall, the quick pants that escape your lips form a mist on the glass, your breasts pressed against it. Sukuna’s hands grip your waist tightly from behind, his eyes focusing on the way your waist curves into your round ass, your cheeks jiggling with every thrust. “I wanted this for so long.” He groans out, burying his face into your neck as he takes in the scent of your hair. The front of his thighs slam against the back of yours as he penetrates his cock in and out of you rapidly. You only manage to whimper in response, letting out a particularly loud moan when the head of his cock kisses your sweet spot.
You see his reflection from the window as he screws his eyes shut, grunting into your ear as his breath fans your neck, his shell-pink hair tickling your skin. “Always wearing that fucking skirt around me,” He hisses into your ear, your arm abruptly stretches behind you to reach the hand gripping your waist when he plunges into you harder. “Only to leave me rock hard – all alone in my room while I fist my cock to the thought of this.” He grits his teeth, his fingers digging into your bone.
“S-Sukuna..” You mewl, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. He straightens your back, pulling you off the window as his calloused hands move from your waist to sneak under your armpits and grip your breasts, kneading the flesh and squeezing your nipples between his fingertips. “You look so sexy right now, god.” He expresses with desire, his chocolate brown eyes bore into yours through the reflection of the window as he slows down his thrusts, making you whine in response as you began to grind your hips back for more. “Harder–“ you moan desperately, “Stop teasing and fuck me harder.”
Sukuna curses in your ear, bending you again and pulling your ass close to him with his hands gripping the sides of your hips. Your right cheek squishes against the glass this time, a drop of your saliva trickles down onto your chin as your hands place themselves against the window for leverage, Sukuna plants his feet on the small step in front of the window, before withdrawing his cock all the way to the tip and slamming his whole length back into you. Your warm, gummy walls hug his thick cock graciously, his thrusts rapid and hard – not leaving a spot inside of you untouched.
“Tell me how I feel, baby.” You hear Sukuna pant out. Your breath catches in your throat as you attempt to speak, gasping before you manage to utter out, “Good, so good, Sukuna. Please don’t stop.” Your begging has him gripping your hips tightly, knuckles flushed white as you clench around him.
“I’m close,” You whimper, making Sukuna bend over to your ear, his hard chest against your back as he rams into you. “Yeah? You wanna cum?” He pants, you only nod in response as you screw your eyes shut. You gasp in shock once his hand reaches down your navel and to your clit, his two digits rubbing circles on your sensitive clitoris and edging you to your orgasm, “M’gonna–“ you could barely finish your sentence before the feeling of pleasure washed over your shaking body. Your eyes snap open with a high pitched moan, the first thing you see are the small specks of white stars littering the night sky, ironically resembling the sensation between your legs as you come undone around him.
You’re starting to like watching the city skyline a lot more than you think you do.
3:16AM
The maroon lipstick that you had applied with precision hours ago for the evening had faded away with time; since you find yourself in between Sukuna’s legs with your knees flat on the carpet, your lips stretching around his veiny girth.
Sukuna brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his lips forming a small gap with his cock in your mouth. He’s seated at the foot of the bed, his free hand gripping the white sheets into his fist as your doe eyes peer up at him through your lashes, a shuddered breath leaves his pink lips once you flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock and began to bob your head slowly. “Shit..” Sukuna mutters, throwing his head back and fluttering his eyes closed, you pull your lips away to the tip of his cock to give his head a hard suck, flicking your tongue against his frenulum before taking him into your mouth again.
Your nose uncomfortably brushes against his pubic hair once you reach his pelvis, your hand fondling with his gonads. Your jaw begins to ache from having his cock in your mouth for so long, making you pull away with a small gasp to catch your breath. A thick string of both your saliva and his cum stays connected between your lips and the tip of his cock, before it snaps and lands on your chin, the fluid trickling down to the valley of your breasts. His cock glistens with your spit, and you find yourself too entranced by his girth that you snap out of it when he taps the head of his cock against the side of your cheek, staining your skin with his precum as he urges you to open your mouth.
You eagerly obey his unspoken command, sticking your tongue out as you take him whole again, swirling your tongue as you drool all over his cock. Sukuna’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone as you look up to him again, breath hitching in his throat as you begin to move your head up and down his cock, your cheeks hollowing as you increase your pace. The sounds of you gargling around him fill the room, making your rub your thighs together. The inside of your mouth feels warm around him, and Sukuna gives you a throaty moan and suddenly jerks into your mouth when you swallow in his cock, your throat muscles constricting around his length. The lack of air in your larynx and the sudden contact with your vulva causes you to gag around him.
Sukuna suddenly pulls you off his dick, his hands reaching underneath your armpits before pulling you into his lap. His wet cock rubs in between your asscheeks as you situate yourself on him, leaving sticky stains of your own spit across the area. Sukuna’s lips meet yours in a messy kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he tastes himself. His hand places itself on your hip while the other lines his cock with your entrance, he nudges your pussy lips with the tip, before fully inserting himself into your warm walls.
You moan into his open mouth as your cunt swallows him whole, your walls stretching with his thick girth. Throwing your head back with an unruly whine, you place your hands on his shoulders for leverage. Sukuna’s rough hands move to the sides of your hips before gruffly speaking, “Ride my cock, baby”
You look back at him with creased eyebrows and an open mouth, your knees brushing against the sheets as you sit on his cock fully – feeling it nudge your cervix. You began to swirl your hips against his, drawing slow digits of eights with your pelvis and eliciting a hefty grunt from him with your movements. “That’s it, there’s a good girl.” Sukuna praises, that seemed to ignite something within you, because you take his encouragement to heart and began to dip on his cock vigorously. He watches your breasts bounce as you move up and down his cock with high pitched moans, your nipples hardening and begging to be played with.
Your pace slowly begins to falter tiredly after a few minutes or so, but Sukuna only praises you further, “So sweet for me, making me feel so good.” He murmurs, before hissing through clenched teeth once you dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders – ones decorated with circled ink. You whine once you meet his gaze, lips slightly trembling as your eyes began to water. Sukuna seemed to get the hint, because his hands move to grip the flesh of your ass and he pushes you closer to his chest, his mouth wrapping your nipple as you arch your back, eyes widening into the ceiling as he rolls your hips against his – his hands on your ass.
His tongue laps over your nipple, his teeth tugging at your bud before unlatching his mouth from your chest and leaving a pool of his saliva behind. He slowly lays down on the mattress with you on top, pushing the both of you further up the bed until his feet are planted on the mattress. Sukuna begins to thrust from below you, his knees bent and your hand planted on either side of his head, your breaths mingling as your noses brush. “Wanna cum again?” Sukuna pants, his hands on your hips as he fucks into you. You can only beg at this point – beg for the release that only the man underneath you can give, “Please, please, please.”
Your own cum trickles down your thigh as you cum on his cock, letting out a mixture of what seemed to be a whine and a moan once you reach your high. Your poor hands that attempted so desperately to keep holding you up eventually give out as you bury your face into Sukuna’s neck, his thrusts slowing, but not stopping, his hand brushes the back of your skull, kissing the shell of your ear.
You can only take so much in one night, and your eyes slowly began to surrender into a deep slumber, but Sukuna has a different plan in mind.
3:57 AM
“Oh my god..!” You cried out, your hands gripping the headboard so tightly you were sure the mahogany wood would snap into half in your hand. Your mouth wide open to release large exhales and small moans as Sukuna licks into your cunt, your thighs on either side of his head while his hands wrap around the front of your thighs to push you closer against his face.
You look down to see his eyes fluttered shut as he eats you up, you can only moan and wither above him once he inserts his tongue into your hole, flicking your insides before pulling it out and dropping his tongue over his chin – wide and flat as he laps your juices up. He pauses at your clit, before wrapping his lips around it and performing a hard suction, the swirling of his tongue merciless. Your legs begin to shake around him, your clitoris overly sensitive from his constant assault. “Cum on my tongue,” Sukuna murmurs against your sex before kissing your inner thigh. You suddenly gasp when his teeth sinks into the flesh of your inner thigh to give rise to a small love bite. “Wanna taste you, baby.”
“Sukuna,” You whine, “I-I cant..” he doesn’t listen, only smacking down your asscheek – almost as if telling you it wasn’t up for discussion. His mouth resumes and the trill of his tongue against your clit only pushed you into a state of overwhelming pleasure that had your voice quivering, eliciting broken moans and whines from your swollen lips. You reach down to tug at the roots of his hair pleadingly, but Sukuna insists on making you cum on his tongue since his movements don’t falter for a second
You try your hardest not to clench around him as you straddle his neck, opting to roll your hips against his hot mouth. Your abdomen clenches as he continues to suck on your clit, your eyes widening as your third orgasm of the night washes over you, your cum trickling down his chin filthily. Your mouth is wide open, but nothing comes out as your breath catches in your throat.
4:23
You assumed your body would betray you at some point throughout – given you could barely feel your limbs and your throat was dry from all the noises you made. But there was something about Sukuna’s touch that only edged you on further – for every orgasm he gave you only left you yearning for more. Your lips wanted to say no, but the way your body reacted to him was completely contradictory.
This time, you were both laid on your sides on the bed, your back pressed against his chest, his face buried into your neck again. His large hand is wrapped around the inside of your knee, lifting your leg into the air as he pounded into you from behind, his thrusts unrelenting and his balls slapping against your skin. Your eyes were closed and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you tried to suppress a moan – for you were too tired to even utter a sound. “No, no, no, baby.” You hear Sukuna mutter from behind you, his hand brushes your hair behind your ear, prepping kisses onto your cheek, “Lemme hear you, wanna hear how you feel.”
“Baby,” You give in with a pant, “You feel so good.” You don’t realise how pornographic this felt until his hand nearly slips from your leg due to the amount of sweat that covered your bodies and made the sheets stick to you unpleasantly. But your mind barely pays attention to it due to the way it was clouded with endorphins from his thrusts. “Say you’re mine.” Sukuna grunts between shallow breaths, your skin slapping every time his cock slipped in and out of you rapidly.
“Yours, Sukuna. All yours.” You mewl, the hair on the nape of your neck stuck to your skin with sweat as Sukuna pants into your ear, his jagged breaths has your heart accelerating in your ribcage, more so when he licks a strip of your neck up to the shell of your ear from behind. He tilts your face from behind with his other hand, squishing your cheeks before his tongue glides into your mouth. You feel your leg strain uncomfortably with time, and you pleadingly grab his wrist. “Turn me over please, I wanna see you.” you breath out against his lips.
Sukuna halts his movements, dropping your leg onto the mattress before gripping your waist and flipping you to face him. His hand rests on the pillow underneath the side of your neck, while the other pulls you in closer, your breasts squished against his hard chest. You use the few seconds you have left before he resumes to his previous thrusts to catch your breath, taking the liberty to swing your leg over his waist for more access while he readjusts your positions.
You take the time to study him up close, beads of sweat littering his forehead, the tattoos that painted his face further emphasised his masculine features. Your eyes drift to the thick black lines that cross over his shoulders and near his pecks, another pair forming two strokes close to his v-line with his bellybutton in between. And then you see it – the scars inflicted from either excessive training, or perhaps from the long term abuse he had suffered at the hands of a man that wasn’t deserving of the title ‘father’. Your hand reaches to trace the marks, but Sukuna quickly grabs your wrist before you could touch him.
His cock distracts you from your current thoughts, eliciting a shocked moan from you as he begins to penetrate you harder and faster, your walls stretching and accommodating his girth – almost as if they were familiar with his length and thickness. His hand is on the leg you swung over him, his thumb brushing against the skin of your outer thigh. Your bottom lip trembles at the overstimulation, eyes watering with salty tears that threatened to spill. Your hand moves to his cheek, your eyebrows creased in pleasure as the sounds of you squelching around him drown out your cries. Sukuna presses his lips against yours in a desperate kiss, tongues messily thrashing as they fail to meet the pace of his rapid thrusts.
“Can you give me one more, baby? Can you do that for me?” He rasps in short breaths, lips brushing against yours. You only cry against his mouth, closing your eyes and trying to bury it into the pillow to muffle your sounds. “Look at me, [Name]. Look at me while I make you cum.” Sukuna croaks out, almost pleadingly, his hand comes to your cheek as you face him again, and even though your vision was cloudy with the tears that continuously streamed down your cheeks, you can still see his eyes burn with flames of lust and want.
Your jaw is slacked open and your throat muscles burn when you cry out his name like a mantra, a familiar coil swirls and tightens in your abdomen as he plunges you with his cock. “Just like that,” He urges, watching your fluids spill all over his cock and trickle to the sheets, your arousal soaked up by the fabric, “All over me.”
Sukuna continues with his thrusts, chasing his long awaited release as he pecks your lips repeatedly. “Wanna cum inside you, wanna fill this pretty cunt with my cum.” He murmurs urgently, you only loll your head and mumble unintelligibly, your body betraying you but igniting with fire one last time when you feel hot ropes of his own cum spill into you. He grunts and moans beautifully into your ear, your eyes half lidded as his thrusts slow down. He kisses you tenderly all over your face, and you can only mewl to let him know you were still there and not fucked into oblivion.
Sukuna flips on his back, pulling you with him. You instantly wrap your arm around him, cheek resting against his chest. Your ear perks up when you hear his rapid heartbeat, but can only whimper quietly once a burning sensation blooms across your legs. Sukuna continues pressing kisses onto your head, his arm wrapped around your frame. He mutters that he needs to clean you up, but you can only hum absentmindedly as you close your eyes and allow the darkness to engulf you.
5:58 AM
You don’t know how long you’ve been asleep, but you assume that it can’t be that long because when you open your eyes, you still find yourself in Sukuna’s arms. The window wall across the bed showed the navy blue sky no longer littered with stars, and you can only assume it was not too far off from sunrise. The insides of your thighs aren’t as sticky and the sheets beneath you felt new, you don’t question how you woke up in a cleaner state, because the thought diminishes when you feel his fingers trail up and down your spine, which tells you he’s also awake. You press a small kiss to his chest to let him know you were too, and Sukuna slightly stiffens at your sudden gesture, but relaxes almost immediately.
“I don’t see it.” You speak up quietly after a few moments of silence. You turn your face to look at him with your chin resting on his chest. He only hums quizzically, his other hand behind his head and his rosy hair slightly matted against his forehead, his cocoa eyes tender and loving when he looks at you. “The scars..I don’t see it.” You elaborate. Sukuna’s heart drops into his stomach, gulping when your mouth curves around the next three words. “I see you.”
His life has been tainted with blood, fractured bones and the flashing of cameras. But with you in his arms, he felt a sense of purity – serenity, as if he was cleansed by the very deep stains marked within his mind and soul. And although the scars remain visible on his skin, the ones carved in his heart have healed long before when his eyes met yours for the first time.
And so you both watch the sun bloom on the horizon, the clouds diffusing the light rays into gentle sweetness. The iris of the flame burns the beautiful blue of the sky; introducing an invitation to a new day.
A new day – with healed scars and hearts no longer tainted by the cruel world that clawed its way into two, intertwined souls.
Synopsis: In which your divorce attorney hates bratty girls and you happen to be the perfect match for him.
Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader (she/her pronouns).
Word count: 10k
Genre: NSFW (MDNI), alternative universe.
Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, smoking, reader is Naoya’s wife, dom/sub elements, reader is kinda bratty, slut-shaming, mentions of sex work, description of violence, temperature play, oral (female and male receiving), blindfold, bondage, orgasm denial, brat taming, missionary, doggy, aftercare.
“The court considers the house an asset, much like any other marital property. If you fight for the house, there is a great possibility you might not be entitled to other assets that may benefit you more after the divorce is finalised.” The blond man seated across you explains gruffly. His white button-up hugs his toned chest and arms tightly, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a navy tie adorning his neck. You try your hardest to pay attention, you really do, but you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the large hands clasped in front of him on top of the desk, momentarily studying the TAG Heuer Carrera decorating his wrist. You had a good eye for men’s watches after all; given you pursued a hobby as a collector and it’s what your husband loved to receive on birthdays and anniversary dinners.
Being one of the most esteemed lawyers in the country, Nanami Kento is a man that is hard to say no to — his questions sharp, head cool and arguments irrefutable. Quite bluntly, he is deemed the best amongst his peers and one of the youngest attorneys to build his own firm from scratch. So when he receives a call from his former client’s wife, he takes up the case within a blink of an eye.
He is also a punctilious man amongst the sea of traits that describes him, and no doubt does he notice you constantly distracted throughout the whole appointment. But he pays no mind to his client’s inattentiveness, and rather chooses to continue, “Your credit history may have taken some damage because of the divorce, so you might not want to make it worse by potentially missing mortgage payments.”
That seemed to make you snap out of your thoughts, the gleaming watch on his wrist being the least of your concerns because your eyes widen once they met his seemingly disinterested ones. “He’s taking the house?” You question surprisingly, your manicured nails clutching the black Chanel purse in your lap at the news.
Your change in demeanour contrasts your stoic and reserved lawyer, because his face remains neutral when he clears his throat to speak, “His lawyer will argue that because it’s a family inheritance it should be considered a non-marital asset. But since it was acquired during the course of the marriage, we still have a chance.”
Your mind becomes hazy at his words, pursing your painted lips as you gulped. When you stepped into this man’s office, you assumed you would be leaving with nothing but fulfilled promises and bright news, but it seemed to be the complete opposite as the clock ticks with every minute. “And the money?” You ask quietly, almost in fear from his answer, your eyes remain fixed on your lap as you fiddled with the diamond bracelet on your wrist, the one you’ve received as a gift not only a year ago — the once sweet memory diminishing into something as bitter as a python’s venom.
You hear him shuffle with the sheets in front of him, reading through the files before he questions, “You both held a joint account?” you look up to see his eyebrows pinched in together, before nodding reluctantly. “The court may consider it as joint property and should be available to divide between you and your ex. It’ll most likely be a fifty-fifty split.” You don’t notice how tired his eyes are when he speaks, the dark bags underneath only signified constant espresso shots and long hours of sleepless nights most likely spent in his office, rummaging through dozens of case files until sun rise.
“So..” You trail off, fidgeting in the leather seat as it squeaks underneath you, “You think I should give up the house?” You ask insecurely, your voice fighting hard not to waver in front of the tired man. Nanami refutes your question almost immediately, shutting the folders in front of him as he speaks, “It’s too soon to decide. We still have six weeks to discuss the money and assets before we finalise the divorce.”
You shake your head at his statement, your nails tapping against the arm rest of the chair irritatingly, “There’s nothing to discuss. It’s ridiculous how I have to fight for something that he registered under my name.” You explain flatly.
“Mrs. Zenin–“
“Miss [Last name],” You correct impatiently, before folding your arms over your chest and huffing as you look away, “I didn’t take that bastard’s last name.”
Nanami arches an eyebrow at your attitude, he didn’t question it when you walked into his office an hour ago — your head held high almost arrogantly, dressed in full designer and your sleek heels clacking against the ceramic floor. He knew you were young, almost too young to be married and in his office to discuss a divorce. What he didn’t expect, however, were the spoilt traits that came along with you, ones that he is very intolerant of.
He’s seen on you plastered on the newspapers and tabloids countless times before. Surely you were only known as the wife, but being the spouse of the newly appointed CEO of Zenin Enterprises had your face recognisable from miles away. Nanami had represented your husband at some point in the past, and the charges of security fraud and money laundering were dropped quickly thanks to his years of expertise within the field. Your husband was by no means a man of morals, but you always chose to overlook his illegitimate business for the sake of your marriage (surely, you loved him, but you loved the comfortable life he provided you with more).
“You have come here because I am the best at what I do. I cannot promise you that after the divorce settlement you’ll leave with everything you asked for, but I guarantee you won’t be walking out empty handed.” His voice is low and monotone when he attempts to reassure you, but given your hard-headed persona, you weren’t willing to give up just yet. You grit your teeth in annoyance, your heels beginning to tap against the floor, “He cheated on me with his secretary. Isn’t that enough of a reason for him to lose entitlement of the house?” you try to argue back reasonably, and although you were aware of how intolerant your attitude might seem to him, your lawyer still chooses to disregard it.
“Unfortunately, the court doesn’t consider the reason for the termination of a marriage when deciding how the assets should be divided.” He elaborates, almost robotically. Given his long term career, you assume he’s had this discussion multiple times before with the thousands that walk through his mahogany office doors every day.
“Fuck.” You curse under your breath in defeat, slumping back into the chair and losing the straight posture you’ve been maintaining the whole time you were here. “You seem very eager to claim ownership over the house.” Nanami points out, “Do you have any children? It could increase the probability of you claiming it if you do.”
“No, I need the house because without it I’ll be homeless.” You grumble, blinking at the ceiling. Nanami takes note of your apparent distress, and tries to amend the situation to the best of his expertise, “Have you contributed any money towards your home throughout your marriage?” Your eyes snap back towards him, but your figure remains slumped against the chair. You scrunch up your face, “You mean something like the mortgage?”
Nanami hums, “It doesn’t necessarily have to be that; have you paid any bills of any sort?”
You furrow your eyebrows in thought, but nothing seems to click in mind. You were, after all, the spoiled wife who didn’t have to lift a finger because your husband accommodated to all of your needs throughout your marriage. “I..helped pick out the furniture for the interior design once.” You reply unsurely, and the blank look Nanami gives you is enough to tell you that the bare minimum wouldn’t suffice. The white, ruffled Dior jumper you had on suddenly became unbearably thick around your neck, the air in the office growing stuffy as you tugged at the collar of your jumper nervously, “C-Can you..open the window, please.” you squeak out.
“Of course.” Nanami sits up from his chair, his hand presses against his abdomen and over his tie before he slides the window open, allowing the traffic sounds and congested city air into his office. Your nasal canal grows clear at the action, taking in long breaths of air to calm yourself down. You dramatically fan your face with your hand as you watch your lawyer pour cold water into a cup from a nearby glass jug before handing it to you, which you gratefully took while muttering a shaky “thank you.”
Nanami leans against his desk in front of you, both hands supporting his weight as they grip the wooden edge. His watch glistens for a second, almost acting as a reminder that you were currently in the presence of one of the best lawyers in the city. He watches you gulp on your water intently before opening his mouth to speak, “A house is..one of the most valuable assets when it comes to a divorce, and one of the hardest ones to obtain to be quite frank with you.”
You let out a small sigh of content once the water fully washed up your throat, before placing the empty glass back on the table. You couldn’t help but snort at his comment while rummaging through your purse in an attempt to pull out a tissue, “Have you ever been divorced?” You murmur rhetorically while dabbing your wet mouth, careful to not smudge your lipstick. You pause your movements, however, when he answers back flatly, “Once.”
You look up to see his lips pursed, your eyes flashing momentarily with a small glint of sympathy. His answer did put you at ease in a sense, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of reassurance at how you weren’t the first nor the last person to walk down such a lonely road. “Did they win?” You ask quietly, blinking at Nanami, who only shrugged nonchalantly in return, “I gave it up willingly.”
“Why would you do that?” You scrunch up your face in confusion. But he continues to give you casual responses, seemingly unaffected by the very thing that’s currently giving you a migraine no pain killer can ease, “Too many memories, remnants..no reason to remind myself of how it all went wrong.”
You scoff in response, scrunching the tissue paper in hand, “Well I’m glad you thought it held a sentimental value, I just don’t want to end up in the streets.” You huff in disinterest, before folding your legs. Your skirt momentarily rises up your leg when you do, catching Nanami’s attention for a split second before his eyes quickly flickered back to your face. “Do you not have a safety net? A savings account that you’ve set up before your marriage?” He attempts to look for any loopholes that could guarantee your financial security, but given the way you shift uncomfortably in your seat after every question, Nanami was sure at some point you’d both reach a dead end.
“N-No I was uh..I wasn’t exactly employed when we met.” You clear your throat, before quickly adding, “I mean, I was, it just wouldn’t be considered an..ethical job to some.” You note his arched eyebrow at your statement, and your mouth began to move before your mind could think so he wouldn’t assume the worst. “I was an escort,” You deadpanned, “That’s..how we met.”
You awaited for the sheer judgement to wash over his face — the typical sneer people would give you once they find out of your previous profession. You expected nothing less from the man in front of you, and you braced yourself for the scenario to repeat itself. But it doesn’t.
“I see.” Nanami replies monotonously, before pushing himself off the desk and returning to his seat. His tone doesn’t provide a sense of comfort at all, if anything, your spine stiffens even more. You assume he doesn’t provide any extra commentary to maintain the line of professionalism between a lawyer and client. “You think I’m pathetic, no?” You mutter quietly, fiddling with your fingers on your lap before you chuckle dryly, “For relying on someone for so long only for them screw me over and leave me with nothing.”
He only tilts his head forward in attentiveness, soaking up your words slowly. In no shape or form was he passing judgement on you, and although he couldn’t deny how attractive you were seated across him in his office, he reminds himself that emotional detachment came with the job, and so he found himself unable to console you in the way you needed it. “We have six weeks, it’s too early to decide which route this will take.” He says, you look up to meet his gaze, and for a second you see a glint of sympathy flash in his eyes. You open your mouth to reply, but a knock on his mahogany office door interrupts you before you have the chance to do so.
“Mr. Nanami?” A young woman pokes her head through the gap, “Your three o’clock is here.” He gives her a curt nod before she closes the door shut. His eyes meet yours again, and you found yourself gulping from how icy his gaze was. “I’ll arrange a meeting with Mr. Zenin’s lawyer, we might come to some sort of an agreement.” He states.
You both stand up from your seats simultaneously, the desk being the only barrier between you two. Your hand stretches in front of you, almost nervously, but when his rough hand grips yours firmly, you couldn’t help the small shudder that runs up your spine at the coolness of his skin. “Thank you, Mr. Nanami. I— uh, hope to hear good news from you soon.” You speak, your hands remain clasped as you both maintain eye contact, almost imperatively. And he almost feels it too, but chooses to ignore it.
“Have a good day, Miss [Last name].”
When the door shut behind you, you couldn’t bring yourself to let out the usual sigh of content when you returned to the comfort of your own home. They say home is a sanctuary, a place of safety above all and the chambers of the heart. Oddly enough, you felt everything but that once you stepped inside. The mansion built from concrete and tall glass windows only provided a reminder of the possible limited time you had left here, or how your lawyer chose to describe it rather; a reminder of how it all went wrong.
You hear footsteps coming down the stairs to your right, but you pay no mind to it since you assume it’s the housekeeper coming to greet you. You toss your purse carelessly on the couch before rolling your neck to stretch, hearing the bubbles pop in your joints. For a second, you felt a rare sense of relaxation wash over your body, but your bubble of peace is disrupted once you hear his voice.
“Afternoon, wife.”
Your head whips towards the mocking voice, and when your eyes meet his familiar sharp ones, your jaw clenched and your hands balled into fists almost instinctively. “Zenin.” You acknowledge disgustingly, your tone flat and laced with venom. It’s almost comical once you think about it, how the mere sight of him can have your whole body flame up in rage and irritation.
Naoya only stares at you smugly from where he stood on the stairs, almost looking down on you like you’re an inferior species. “You’re a Zenin too, y’know?” He points out patronisingly, your eyes flicker to the small duffle bag in his hand, but you choose to overlook it once you meet his gaze again. “I never took your last name.” You answer bluntly, your eyebrows pinched in as he began to walk down the stairs.
He took small strides towards you, and you found yourself clutching the back of the couch in your hand when he stood right in front of you, your nails digging into the fabric when his breath fanned your face from how close he was. “Bet you wish you did now, no? At least you wouldn’t be fighting so hard over this place if you did.” He gestured around the mansion, before looking back at you with a sneer, “It’s funny, isn’t it? How you didn’t want to take my last name but wouldn’t so much as blink when you kept swiping my credit cards.”
You clench your jaw at him, trying your hardest to not gulp in front of him at your close proximity. “Why are you here?” You exasperate, you believe you already knew the answer to your own question, but you still ask in order to shift the conversation elsewhere. “To collect the rest of my stuff—“ Naoya replies nonchalantly, he arches an amused eyebrow at you before continuing,“Although I deem it unnecessary, since I’ll move back in soon and it’ll be you that’s gonna get kicked to the curb.”
“What could you possibly gain from trying to make my life a living hell? Aren’t you the one at fault here?” You gritted. He only dryly laughs in response, and you were beginning to grow frustrated at how he seemed unaffected by your words. “I put you in the best clothes, drowned you in jewellery and had you travel the fucking world. Am I really that terrible?” Naoya asks rhetorically with a smug look on his face.
“You cheated on me.” You spit out, furrowing your eyebrows angrily. All the years you spent living under the same roof as this man and it wasn’t until now you realised how utterly cruel he can be, how much of a fool you were for believing you were different from the rest. “Don’t be bitter darling.” Naoya answers apathetically, the once endearing pet name he had for you suddenly felt like nails being hammered into your ear. “The sex was great, though. I guess old habits don’t die, hm?” He has a condescending smirk on his face, and it acted as enough of a trigger for you to lift your hand in the air, but his duffel bag drops to the floor and his much larger hand grabs your wrist in a flash, right before it could collide with his cheek.
“Watch it, [Name].” He warns, his seemingly amused tone suddenly drops an octave, his eyes pierce yours sharply, “I picked you off the streets and made a woman out of you. And I can throw you back out there just as easily.”
Your eyes suddenly flash with a small glint of familiarity, your mind casting itself back to when before you met the man in front of you — the one whom you first thought was a blessing in your life but ended up becoming a curse. “Who’s gonna notice a former escort — no, a whore, when she returns to her roots.” He sneers, his grip on your wrist tightens, and you try not to squirm in his hold to show him you were unaffected. Your throat turns dry and your mouth forms a small gap, but you found it hard to recollect your thoughts to even utter an insult back, “Are you..threatening me?”
He loosens his grip, your hand dropping back to your side. The stinging sensation grows on your skin as you began to rub your wrist to ease the mild pain. Naoya’s previous demeanour returns, his lips curving up into a half smirk, “Of course not, don’t be silly.”
He fixes the collar of his shirt, clearing his throat before picking up the duffel bag from the ceramic floor. His lips drop into a sudden frown, his eyes as cold as ice glaciers once he uttered one last phrase that caused a shaky breath to escape your lips, “Know your place, [Name]. You don’t want to bite off more than you can chew.”
When you bask into the bubble bath you have created for yourself, you couldn’t help but sink further into the tub as your skin soaked up the hot water and steam that emitted along with it. The glass of champagne in your hand turns as foggy as the mirror hung on the ceramic wall, but you pay no mind to it as your lips wrap around the rim, the subtle aroma invading your nostrils once you take a small sip — not enough to get drunk but enough to give you a general feel of relaxation as your bloodstream soaked up the alcohol.
Your legs are perched up on the rim of the bathtub, your eyes lazily studying the minuscule bubbles that clung to the sides of the glass in your hand. The moment doesn’t last very long, however, because you hear your phone suddenly ring obnoxiously next to you. You let out a groan of annoyance as you place your glass back on the side table, snatching your phone while you’re at it. You don’t bother looking at the caller ID, because you’re quick to swipe the green telephone icon to the right to answer, “Hello?”
“Good evening, Miss [Last name].” The familiar gruff voice causes you to suddenly sit up, the water splashes underneath your naked form loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the line, “Mr. Nanami, hello.” you clear your throat.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, are you alright?”
“I-I’m fine, but why? Is something wrong?” You pull your legs closer to your chest at his tone, slowly enough for the water to remain as still as possible and not alert him like you’ve done earlier.
“I’ve spoken to Naoya Zenin’s lawyer.” You can only pause and gulp nervously at his response, mentally cursing yourself for nearly dropping the phone into the tub. Nanami takes your silence as an indication to continue, “It’ll be hard for them to contest the house registration since Mr. Zenin has willingly signed it under your name, so we both came to a mutual understanding that I hope you will be on board with.”
“What is it?” The tip of your tongue wets your lips after you ask firmly, your mind quickly to assume the worst as you anxiously waited for his reply.“Selling the house and dividing the income between you two. It’ll be a fifty-fifty split, of course.” Nanami explains, he expected a sigh of relief in response, not a an irritated scoff from you. “That’s as far as it gets? Is this what I hired you for?” You reply agitatedly, and you could’ve sworn you felt Nanami try to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s the best we can get, miss [Last name].” He corrects monotonously. You could only huff quietly, pinching your nose with your eyes shut before reluctantly giving in, “So what now?”
“If you agree, we can meet back at the firm at some point this week with Mr. Zenin and his lawyer to go through the paperwork.”
It seemed like it was your best bet at this point. Your soon to be ex-husband has already claimed ownership over the majority of the properties that you’ve shared throughout your marriage, and when your mind casts itself back to how your lawyer stated that at least you won’t be walking out empty handed, you defeatedly agree before ending the call.
The bath doesn’t provide the same relaxation you engulfed yourself in earlier, since your mood shifted quite dramatically after the call, so you opt to ending your night by stepping out of the bath. Grabbing a nearby towel, your wrap it around your naked form as hot droplets of water roll down your skin. You clutch your phone in your hand as you step out of the steamy bathroom, your hair sticking to the nape or your neck.
When you plug your phone into the charger next to your king sized bed, your spine suddenly stiffens when you hear the sound of shuffling behind you. Your head snaps towards the source, but before you could react, a gloved hand wraps around your throat and pins you against the wall. You gasp in shock, your eyes widening at the man in front of you. His face was covered with a black ski mask and the rest of his body clad in a similar colour. He rips your phone out of your hand and chugs it away on the carpeted floor as you struggle in his hold, your arms flinging around and your legs shuffling frantically underneath you. The white towel that covered what’s left of your modesty drops to the the floor humiliatingly. But the man in front of you pays no mind to it as he continues to focus on the task at hand: choking the life out of you.
You can only attempt to push his face away, your legs attempt to kick and your hands move to grip his wrists in a desperate attempt to set yourself free, but he’s stronger and taller as he towers over you, his fingers squeezing your larynx harder with every passing second as he obstructs your breathing. Your short, jagged breaths are only an indication of how much you were struggling. You don’t know who he is or why he’s here. Frankly, you barely have any enemies unlike your husband, who probably has a bounty on his head from former business associates. But why would they attempt to hurt the ex wife knowing she no longer has any value to him? Your mind can only think of one other reason.
It’s a warning.
The attempts your blood supply make to reach the cells of your brain are futile as you feel your head might explode like a melon at any given minute. Instinctively, your hand suddenly grips the side lamp next to you, and you hit your assailant over his head with all your might. He instantly drops to the floor with a painful groan like a pigeon’s feather, the glass shattering and surrounding your feet on the carpeted floor. Your lungs expand rapidly as you take in large, desperate breaths to fill them up, wheezing and coughing with your hand around your neck to ease your throat muscles, but you can already feel the damage in your vocal cords.
The man is unconscious on the ground, and you’re tempted to pull his ski mask up to see his face, but your trembling hands reach for the phone that’s only a few feet away from him instead, dialling the familiar three digit number.
It felt like years, but it was merely twenty minutes before you found yourself seated outside of your house and in the back of an ambulance van with a small blanket draped over your frame. “Any problems breathing? Feeling light-headed?” The paramedic asks as her gloved hands examine your throat, you can only shake your head in response, your breathing and heart rate returning to normal with time. “It feels sore though.” You say hoarsely once she pulls away. You attempt to clear your throat, but the pain blooming across your vocal cords only worsened.
“That’s normal, but we might still have to take you in. Your brain’s been deprived from oxygen for a while so it’d be safe to have an actual examination done. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
You shake your head again with your eyes trained on your feet, feeling exhausted to even utter a word. You pull your blanket closer across your frame once you feel a gust of wind blow, giving rise to goosebumps across your skin. You’ve already been questioned by the officers long ago, and it was only a matter of time before your night actually comes to an end. You might not be an innovative businesswoman like your husband, but you were not naive either. There’s only one person in your life who’s willing to actively harm you, and it doesn’t take you too long to figure out who it is.
“Miss [Last name]?”
You’re snapped out of your trance when you look up to see a familiar pair of chestnut narrowed eyes. He’s still dressed in the same attire from when you met him this morning, but his tie was loosened with the first few buttons of his dress shirt left open. “He..” You mutter quietly under your breath as you look down to your feet again, “He sent someone for me.”
“Your husband?” He questions lowly. You nod slowly in response, your eyes blinking away the salty tears that were itching to trickle down your cheeks. “Are you su—“
“Yes, I’m sure.” You snapped, looking back at Nanami to see him a few feet away from you, his hands are buried in the pockets of his slacks as he watches you carefully. “He wants me to give up the house, Naoya doesn’t fuck around when it comes to his family inheritance.” Nanami pursed his lips in response, his eyebrows drawn in together in thought.
He is no righteous man, given many of his esteemed clients had the privilege to not step their foot in jail even once thanks to his efforts. They were people of high status, immense power and hidden corruption. Regardless of whether their charges ranged from fraud and embezzlement to money laundering, Nanami always found himself seated next to them in court ready to use his years of training and expertise to let another criminal walk free unpunished. But this — this was something he could not overlook, because no matter how much money gets deposited into his bank account for his services, he can never find himself commending violence perpetrated against women and children for the sake of greed.
His eyes scan over the scenery, seeing a few police cars with the red and blue lights flashing against his vision uncomfortably. “This goes beyond a divorce settlement,” He notes, before his eyes meet yours, “He’s trying to hurt you in more than just a financial way.”
You could only gulp knowingly, clutching at the blanket draped over your frame in your fists as you shifted in your seat. “Is he..dead?” You ask unsurely, referring to your assailant whom you haven’t seen since you’ve been escorted out of the house and into the ambulance. Nanami kisses his teeth, tilting his chin upwards, “No, but he’s conscious now. They’re taking him in for questioning.”
When you exude your vulnerability to him again with tears threatening to spill and lips beginning to tremble, Nanami avoids the same mistake he’s done earlier this morning, and chooses to console you correctly — in the way you needed it this time. “I’ll take care of it.” He firmly states. You slowly look up to meet his seemingly cold eyes that oozed out determination and will-power. “What are you gonna do?” You question softly, your words leaving your lips slowly and carefully. Nanami only hums, he turns his head to scan your mansion when he answers, “Pull some strings.” You furrow your eyebrows at his vagueness, but Nanami looks at you again with a sharp gaze before you could question him further, “You didn’t hire me for no reason.”
You open your mouth to speak, confusion itched all over your face because you could only assume what he was implying, but the paramedic shows up before you had the chance to do so, “Mrs. Zenin? Are you ready?” You bite your tongue back from correcting her, irritation rising in your bloodstream at the cursed name.
“Want me to come with you?” Nanami asks, but you only shake your head as the paramedic helps you inside the ambulance van. “You’ve done enough just by being here.” you reassure with a tired smile. He defeatedly nods, taking a few steps back so the paramedic could shut the back door. But before she could, you poke your head out to say one last thing. “Mr. Nanami?” You called out, your eyes glimmering softly once his gaze met yours. He hums in response, his hands still buried in the pockets of his slacks, your mouth slightly curves upwards again.
“Thank you for coming.”
“I bet you’re feeling ecstatic, no?” Naoya grits across you with an irritated smile. His fingers drum against the meeting table with annoyance, his eyes narrowed into slits as he attempts to break you with his sharp gaze. But you only clear your throat and look away with your chin tilted upwards, tugging at the silky scarf you tied around your throat with a bow. Your currently imprisoned assailant didn’t leave any marks across your skin, nor did the doctor advise you to use a covering. But you believed it would be convenient enough to rub your husband’s foolish (and failed) attempt to kill you all over his face by attending the meeting with a scarf that’s probably worth an estate around your neck.
“Mr. Yoshida, please ask your client to not address mine. I would much rather we all leave this meeting in one piece.” Nanami mutters disinterestedly, his eyes remain fixed on the contract in his hands, scanning the words carefully before handing you the papers for you to sign. The other lawyer pleadingly whispers into Naoya’s ear, supposedly to calm him down, but the blond only continues to stare at you with venomous eyes.
You try not to smile, you really do. But when you repeatedly read the written sentence like a mantra in your head — the same sentence that marked your victory against your arrogant, foolish of a husband — your lips couldn’t help but involuntarily curve upwards. Your eyes meet Naoya’s hateful ones from across the table, maintaining imperative eye contact while you sign off your name with a triumphant smirk on your face.
Checkmate.
Naoya’s hands ball into fists, his knuckles flushed white at the way you smugly look at him, almost as if he was inferior to you this time. His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare in pure fury, and he fought hard to bite his tongue from spewing vitriol at you, but more so from jumping across the table and finishing the job his incompetent employer failed to do by crushing your larynx himself.
“That was my father’s house.” He grits from behind you through clenched teeth once you both exit the meeting room. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at his statement, swiftly turning to look at him, “You didn’t even like your father.” you remark as a matter of fact. He suddenly grabs your forearm and harshly pulls you towards him, “Do you really think you can shake me up and get away with it?” Naoya spits, his eyebrows creased in vexation and his glare dripping with spite. His calloused hand squeezes your forearm hard enough your bone could snap like a twig under the pressure.
You only smile condescendingly at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “Don’t be bitter, darling.” you repeat his words from a week ago, and you could’ve sworn you saw his left eye twitch at your mockery. You snatch your arm out of his hold, “I only claimed what’s my legal right, plus you did try and kil–“
“What the fuck do you know about legal rights? You’re an escort.” He retorts, his face contorted in disgust. The repetitive ‘insult’ only caused your skin to prickle, your jaw clenched in anger as you take a step closer to him, “I’m the escort you married.” you seethed. “Your father was a fool for entrusting an imbecile like you with the company, you’ve always been two steps behind, Naoya.” You dryly laugh, watching his arrogance wash away with your words.
“Did you really think the house would be enough?” You shake your head with a tsk. You lean closer towards his face, your eyes unblinking as you spew out the next four words with ill intent as clear as day, “I’m coming for everything.”
His left eye twitches again.
Naoya opens his mouth to spew another degrading remark, before his lawyer quickly intervenes. The much shorter man has his hands clutching the brown briefcase to his front nervously, “M-Mr. Zenin?”
“What?” He snaps irritatingly. You only take a step back, adjusting the bow around your neck as the the man whispers to his client urgently. Naoya’s eyes suddenly snap towards you, and although they’re still flamed with hatred and venom, he chooses to straighten his back and fix the collar of his blazer. He puffs out his chest, regaining his composure before clearing his throat, “This isn’t over.” he states lowly, before turning to walk away. Your smirk remains itched on your face, “Far from it, dear husband.”
You exhale quietly once he disappears from your sight, your tensed shoulders relaxing. “Everything okay?” You hear Nanami from behind you, you turn to face him with a tight smile, tugging at your silky scarf with a nod, “Yes, thank you.”
Pausing to shuffle with your feet, you continue, “I know we’re hardly done yet but..thank you for helping me.” He blinks at you, and for a minute his brown eyes soften. “I did my job, Miss [Last name]. I can only be glad you’re satisfied with the results as of now.” A small chuckle escapes your lips at his formality. You were itching to break through his facade, and the plan you bore in mind was slowly unfolding when you softly ask with doe eyes, “Is there some way I can repay you?”
“That wouldn’t be necess–“
“Please, I insist.” You interrupt, placing a hand on his arm. Nanami’s eyes quickly flicker between your hand and your face, but you only give his arm a small rub. “How about dinner? I can make salmon?” You suggest with a gleam, and although the invite seemed harmless, Nanami could see past your act easily.
He knows it’s a bad idea, he knows where this will lead and he knows it will end up with what they termed “conflict of interest”, Nanami wasn’t referred to as one of the smartest attorneys in the city over nothing — for he has a strict rule book that he follows religiously when he’s on the clock.
But he can make an exception, right?
“I’m very glad you accepted my invitation, I would’ve been disappointed if you haven’t.” You tease, cutting through the shell-pink fish on your plate before taking your last bite. The plates scrape underneath the utensils as you observe the man seated across you carefully, who quietly munches on his food. The candle in the middle of the elongated table acts as a bridge between you two, the flickering flame eliciting a hallowed glow to the walls of the dining room.
Nanami dabs his mouth with the tissue he had tucked in his collar, swallowing his bite before meeting your eyes. “I..took it into consideration.” He speaks lowly, “Thank you for inviting me.”
You can only give him a small smirk, licking your red painted lips before leaning back on your chair to study him head to toe, your finger grazing the rim of your glass. He imitates your body language, his index finger and thumb pinches at his lower lip, his eyes boring into yours. Nanami has picked up every subtle queue you’ve been dropping all night — the black dress, red lipstick, and discrete commentaries with hidden double meanings. Your motives were as clear as day when you inveigled him into your company tonight, but he still chose to indulge into the little game you started.
His eyes are glued to your bare neck. The lack of marks or bruises from your assault only emphasised your manipulative tactic at the meeting earlier. The softness of your skin was tempting him to paint it with his teeth and tongue, and he can only imagine you withering underneath him, clutching at his shoulders as he tames you into obedience, but he opts to ask for something else.
“How’s your throat?”
The question slightly catches you off guard, but you quickly recompose when you hum nonchalantly in response, your voice soft and low, “Better. Much better.”
The silence that falls between you two isn’t uncomfortable in a sense, but does the highlight the tension that’s itching to be broken. “I hope you like the food — took me hours to get it ready.” You pout jokingly with a large exhale, stretching your neck dramatically. Nanami fights a chuckle that nearly escapes his mouth, “It was delicious, thank you for the meal.” He replies with a mirrored smirk, “And I saw the takeout bags peaking from the bin.”
Your mouth drops slightly, a small laugh erupting from your throat at his observation, “Was it that obvious?”
“Very.”
You hum, “I’m a terrible cook, but I did want to repay you somehow.” The double meaning doesn’t fly over Nanami’s head, and for a split second he wished you were as straightforward as he was; to tell him the real reason you wanted him here tonight, but your commentary only intrigues him even more.
“So..” You begin slowly, placing both elbows on the table and resting your chin on the palm of your hand, your head tilted to the side as you look at him with dewy eyes, “Wanna tell me what strings you pulled?”
Nanami arches an eyebrow at your sudden question, “You insist on knowing?” he asks. You chuckle with a small shake of your head, “I’m no fool Mr. Nanami, you stopped my husband from going to jail once even when there was concrete evidence against him, and now you managed to make him submit the whole house to me. Surely, I’m interested in your ways.”
He pokes the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue to prevent a smirk from growing, “Mr. Zenin is no stranger to me. Although there are controversies about how I got the charges against him dropped.” He states, his eyes scanning the dining room before stopping on you, “He’s the most hated man by his business associates, and I just happen to know his weak spots.”
An impish grin grows on your face, “You threatened him?” you nearly laugh, imagining the scene in your head; the sheer confidence your husband desperately tried to maintain throughout the years — all crumbling into dust. “Not directly per say.” Nanami attempts to put it nicely, “A single tip to a journalist could tear down an entire empire. You could say I made sure he knew that.”
Your teeth sinks into your bottom lip, your eyes scanning him head to toe again, “And here I was thinking you’re merely a lawyer.”
“First assumptions aren’t always correct.”
“You got that right.” You breathe out, leaning back on your chair, your eyes are fixed with his chocolate brown ones. “Are you a drinker, Mr. Nanami?” He purses his pink lips at your question, before loosening the grey tie around his neck. “Not tonight. But I can be occasionally.” He was playing hard to get, you think. But in reality, the blond was only purposely blocking every route you take just to see how desperate you can get to have him fall straight into your trap. You click your tongue, “Ever tried a Chateau Lafite?”
“‘98?” You nod slowly in response, unblinking.“Once, it wasn’t exactly..up to my taste.” He trails off. You kiss your teeth at his reply, letting out a small pout with a tilt of your head. The strap of your dress conveniently slips from your shoulder to your arm at that moment, and your lips curve into a small smirk when his eye catches it. “That’s a shame, I was looking forward to a small celebration tonight.”
Nanami’s eyes suddenly flicker to your face, eyebrows furrowed at your words, “But you aren’t divorced yet.”
“Yet,” You repeat with emphasise. “But given your capabilities, I see you can ensure the settlement runs smoothly, can’t you?” He tries to fight back a smile at the way you subtly lure him in, he found it amusing how you thought you were going to easily get what you’re seeking from him tonight, as expected from a spoiled woman who had everything handed to her on a silver platter throughout her marriage. “You’re playing with fire.” He states flatly.
“I am a risk taker after all.” You express, lifting the strap of your dress back on your shoulder, the material snapping against your skin. “Wouldn’t you know that? Being a hot shot lawyer and all, taking risks is a big factor that comes along with the job, no?” Your doe eyes stare at him with high intensity, and when you watch his chest heave out slowly with a sharp intake of breath, you knew you had him exactly where you wanted.
“What makes you think I don’t know that already?”
“Maybe you need a reminder..” You trail off innocently, before standing up from your seat, the chair scraping against the floor as you pushed it behind you. His eyes watch you carefully as you pat down your dress, before you smacked your lips at him, “Would you like to join me in the wine cellar? I’d be interested to know more of your tastes.”
You don’t give him a chance to reply, because your sleek heels are already clacking against the ceramic floor as you walk away. You bite back a smile when you hear his chair move in the dining room, his footsteps soon trailing behind you as you walk downstairs towards the basement. You expected him to grab your wrist at any given moment and twirl you to face him for a feverish kiss, but disappointment only grows within you when he doesn’t, because he respectfully keeps his distance from you without uttering a word, until you fling the doors to the wine cellar open with him following you in shortly.
“You have a bar too?” He questions, his eyes scanning the wooden shelves that held dozens of bottles, stopping at the small mini bar situated close to the door as you strut towards it. No doubt you are living a life of royalty, and given you have now claimed full ownership over the mansion, he could only imagine the boost to your pride if you were to claim the rest of your husband’s assets.
“I asked to have one of the empty rooms renovated into one, but Naoya thought it was more convenient to have it in our wine cellar.” You sigh out in slight annoyance as you open the fridge to examine its contents, “Well, my wine cellar now.” you peer over your shoulder with a giggle, before taking out a small bucket of ice. Your manicured fingers grab two nearby wine glasses, not missing the way he watches you like a hawk when you place them at the bar, before taking small steps near the shelves. To your hidden frustration, he still remained in his place like a statue. Your index finger taps your bottom lip as you hum in thought, before turning your head to look at him, “Red or white?”
“I’m driving.” He states as a matter of fact, but you only shrug in response. Your hands clasp behind your back as you take small steps towards him, the tip of your tongue poking the corner of your lip, your hands fiddle with the end of his grey tie when you stand right in front of him. He does no attempts to stop you, so you take it as an indication to peer up to him, “You can stay the night.” you whisper.
Nanami’s eyes narrow at you, “I know what you’re doing.” he calls your bluff. You only smile in response, taking another step closer as your chest meets his, he feels your pebbled nipples through the thin material, nearly gulping at the thought of you not wearing a bra underneath. “Is it working?” you ask softly, your eyes flickering between his lips and brown eyes, and you take note of the light stubble growing on his chin. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip when you feel his hand sneak to your lower back, only for it to rest right above your ass.
“You know..” He begins lowly, his breath fanning your face and leaving goosebumps all over your skin. “I tend to keep a very strict relationship with my clients. But I think I might overlook that rule just for tonight.”
You bite back a smile at his words, but it falters into a quiet gasp once his hand collides with your asscheek in a loud smack, “I do, however, hate brats.” He states, before gripping the flesh of your ass in his calloused hand. “Maybe you should fuck the attitude out of me.” You reply bluntly, fluttering your eyelashes in an attempt to seduce him, but Nanami only arches an amused eyebrow, his lips curving into a half smirk. “And I’m meant to indulge into your commands that easily?”
“Is there a reason why you shouldn’t?”
“You’re still technically married.” He points out, his eyes flicker to your left hand for a ring. But to his surprise, your ring finger is bare and missing the large, gleaming rock you typically wore to public events. “That’s right..I am.” You trail off, your hand moving from his tie to the belt buckled around his trousers with a dramatic sigh, your fingers running across the leather material. “But I’m also a very persistent woman, Mr. Nanami. And what I want, is what I get.”
He kisses his teeth, unimpressed with your words, “You’re spoiled, what’s that like?”
“Do you want me to show you?”
And that was it.
When he kissed you, you could’ve sworn your lungs shrivelled as the air got knocked out of your chest. Your heart beating rapidly as his lips moved with yours, your hand gripped his belt as you sighed into his open mouth, his tongue diving in and massaging your wet muscle hard and fast in desperate sweeps.
You couldn’t help but whimper against his lips when his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass through the thin material of your dress, your salivas mixing in each other’s maws as he sucks in your bottom lip, swiping his tongue against it before suddenly pulling you off from your hair. A small gasp escapes your swollen lips as you take in the sight in front of you, his chest heaves slowly, and his mouth moves around three words that leave a shudder down your spine from his dominant tone.
“On your knees.”
You gulp at his words, his demand causing your heart to accelerate in your chest. You give him a small smirk before you quickly do as you’re told. Your bare knees felt uncomfortable once they met the cold hard floor, but the evident tent in his trousers causes the thought to diminish instantly. Your soft hands eagerly unbuckle his belt, before pulling it down along with his boxers as they pool to his feet. His throbbing cock slaps against his toned abdomen at the action, the tip angry red with a vein protruding from the underside.
Your mouth nearly salivates at his girth as Nanami watches you intently from above, your hand moves to grasp the tip, before he suddenly slaps it away. You hiss at the action, peering up to see him frowning, “No hands.”
You blinked at his words, before clasping your hands behind your back. You maintain imperative eye contact when your jaw slacks open, your tongue flat against your chin when you run it up his length from the base to the tip. Your lips wrap around the head, and your tastebuds soak up the salty taste of his precum when you flick your tongue against the tip, before pulling away with a pop and letting a ball of spit fall from your mouth and onto his cock.
“Fuck, I needed this.” Nanami sighs out blissfully, throwing his head back with a parted mouth as he brushed the back of your skull. You take him fully into your mouth, your wet tongue flat against his cock. The warmth of your mouth causes him to slightly grip your hair into his large fist. You take the opportunity to fondle his firm balls with your hand, before his head snapped towards you with a sudden frown, “Watch it.”
If the warning wasn’t enough, his piercing glare had you move your hands instantly to your lap. Your cheeks hallowed as you expertly suctioned his cock, the saliva collecting in your mouth acted as a natural lube when you began to bob your head up and down his length smoothly. He lets out a low groan when you flutter your eyelashes at him, your lips stretched around his girth every time you nearly reached his base. When his large hand suddenly tugs at your scalp to push you down his cock deeper, your hands instinctively flew to grip his thighs for leverage.
Big mistake.
“You just never listen.” He huffed in annoyance, before taking both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them upwards to his chest, “You need to learn how to listen.” Nanami emphasised, before his other hand tugged at your hair again. You whimper around his cock at the sensation before he bucked hips into your mouth, the crown of his cock pushing past your vulva harshly before he pulled his dick out to the tip, eliciting a strangled gasp from you. His hand gripped the roots of your hair before he started moving you up and down his cock at a much quicker pace, your drool uncomfortably trickling down your chin as his cock glistened with your spit under the basement light.
Nanami stops your head close to his base, your eyes wide as you peer up to him while trying to blink away the salty tears that hung at your lash line. He continues to fuck your mouth, only this time he doesn’t pull you to the tip and rather keeps your lips at the base, your nose brushing against his trimmed pubic hair. Your throat tightens around his cock as you gargle, your veins protruding from your neck as your feel your jaw could unhinge at any given minute due to the thickness of his cock. Nanami curses under his breath when you let out a distorted moan around him, the hands pinned to his chest beginning to claw at his shirt desperately.
When he pulls you off him, you let out a gasp followed by a sharp intake of breath. Your mouth smudged with your own spit and lipstick as he began to pull up his trousers and lazily buckle the belt again. You slightly frown as you watch him from the floor, your chest heaving anxiously at the thought of him leaving you on the basement floor after using your mouth as a mere flesh light for his cock. But your suspicions are refuted when his sharp eyes pierce yours from above, “Where’s your room?” Nanami deadpans.
“Second floor, first door o-on the left.” You stammer with wide eyes, a yelp escaping your lips when he pulls you up from the floor, your legs wobbly as you struggle to stand on your heeled feet, before he suddenly reaches for your waist, his hands gripping you tightly as he threw you over his shoulder.
“N-Nanam—hmph!” Your voice is muffled when he smacks down your asscheek in a loud slap, before grabbing the bucket of ice on the way out and up the stairs. You could only let him continue to treat you as a rag doll, your cheeks heated up at the fact your face was in direct vision with his bum the whole time. In a flash, he had you both in your room, flinging you on your bed as the mattress bounced beneath you. Your hair obliterated your vision as you pushed it out of the way, watching him place the ice bucket on the bedside table.
“Safe word.” He mutters, unfastening the watch around his wrist. “What?” You breathe out, your breasts nearly spilling out of your dress as you watch him unbutton the cuffs of his dress shirt, your heart beats erratically against your chest when he looks at you again with hooded eyelids. “Pick a safe word.” He emphasised more clearly, his shoes off before getting on your bed. You find yourself moving back against the headboard as he crawled towards you like a predator seeking his prey. A noticeable gulp protruding through your throat before you squeaked out, “Red.”
You didn’t question the need for a safe word, at this point you were willing to let the man in front of you use you in any way he wanted just for you to chase some sort of release, and so you grip his tie to pull him to your lips, your tongue thrashing with his as your hands weave through his blond locks and messing the hairdo he must’ve spent a considerable amount of time perfecting this morning. When his hands grip your waist to push you down the mattress, he tilts his head to the side to kiss you deeper, the tips of his eyelashes brushing against the apple of your cheek. He pushes the straps of your dress down to your shoulders, your breasts spilling out of the material as they press against his clothed chest. He pulls your dress off completely, leaving you in your black thong and heels as he tosses it on the floor with his lips pressed against yours. A small grunt escapes his open mouth when you desperately grind against the thigh pressed between your legs, but Nanami pulls away before you have the chance to seek more friction.
His hands move to unbuckle his belt again, before the leather material wraps around your wrists and to the headboard. He tugs at the knot securely, “Is this okay?” Nanami questions sternly, watching your bare chest heave up and down with your mouth agape. “Yes,” You pant out, “Do whatever you want just please fuck me.”
He smirks at your words, leaning down to push your hair from your face. You found yourself wishing his ears wouldn’t perk up at the sound of your heart rapidly beating against your ribcage from the close proximity. His thumb tugs at your bottom lip, your warm breath fanning his skin, “You wanna get fucked nice and hard? Is that it?” Nanami says lowly, almost teasingly. You could only nod feverishly in response, his head ducked into the crook of your neck to lick a stripe of your hot skin. He hums into your ear, “Of course you do, I could tell from the moment you stepped into my office.”
A small whimper escapes your smudged lips when he sinks his canines into the flesh of your neck, sucking at the spot before pulling away. He sits up on his knees, his hands removing the grey tie as you fidget in place, your bare chest in full view for him. You were desperately hoping he would latch his mouth onto your breast — your pebbled nipples erect for his touch, but his eyes remain fixed on your face, studying your pouty lips and slightly creased eyebrows.
“Bet you wanted me to bend you over my desk and raw you until you can’t walk, no?” Nanami continues. You assumed his tie would join his shoes on the floor, but you’re proven wrong once your vision goes black due to him wrapping the silky material around your eyes as a makeshift blindfold. “That’s exactly what you’re not going to get.” He whispers, shivers running down your spine as he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth.
His fingers trail down the valley of your breasts and your stomach, purposely ignoring your pebbled nipples. Your breath hitches in your throat when he suddenly snaps the elastic band of your thong against your hip, a small chuckle erupting from his lips when you flinched at the sudden action. Nanami suddenly removes his hand, and the blindfold heightens all four other senses of yours, your ears perking up at the sound of the ice bucket shuffling with its contents. You found it difficult to see past the darkness of his tie, but you couldn’t help but curl your toes in anticipation for his next move.
Nanami watches you intently, a noticeable bulge straining his trousers at the sight of you spread on the bed, tied up and blindfolded, already submitting for him to ravish you whole. He places an ice cube in between his lips, his hot tongue suctioning the cold droplets of water before he leans down to your level again. Your chest rises with a sharp intake of breath when you feel a cold sensation on your neck and right above your pulse point, the simple action enough to jumpstart your heart.
He drags the ice cube with his mouth from your neck to across your jawline, and you couldn’t help but shiver once his lips brushed against yours, the cold droplets of water staining your lips. You open your mouth as an instinct, and he pushes the ice cube into your mouth at the invitation, his tongue following in shortly as he kissed you. The stark contrast of the cold ice and your hot mouths sends a jolt to your system. When you pass the cube back into his mouth with your tongue, he suddenly pulls away from your lips, and you can only tug at the belt holding your wrists together as you whimper at his teasing.
You freeze in place when you feel his mouth on your neck again, trailing the melting ice cube with his lips down the valley of your breasts. A small gasp escaping your smudged lips when he purposely drags it over your buds, his chestnut brown eyes watching your body language carefully. He continued his slow movements down to your navel, the cold water dripping as the cube diminishes in size. The coolness of the ice against your hot body floods your system with a rush of sensations, particularly when he drags it over your clothed cunt, leaving a stain mixed with water and your own arousal. You arch your back with a small gasp, desperately lifting your hips against his mouth for more.
Nanami grips your thighs and plants them against the mattress harshly, the ice cube now the size of a pebble when he drags it on your inner thighs with his tongue, letting it melt on its own. Your heart beats even faster when his fingers pull your thong to the side, a gossamer string of your slick attached from your pussy lips to the fabric of your thong. “Such a mess for me already.” He mutters, his cold breath against your bare cunt causes you to sink your teeth into your bottom lip.
Unbeknownst to you, his eyes darkly watch you, tongue flat across his chin as he gives you a painfully long lick from the bottom of your lips up to your clit, the cold muscle causing you to gasp again with your mouth ajar, “Oh fuck..” His cold tongue slithered around your pulsating clit agonisingly slow, before his icy lips wrapped around the bud, giving it a hard suck with a teasing flick using the tip of his tongue. His chin is pressed against your slit, and you can feel the light stubble on his skin when he lusciously suctions your clit.
When his tongue pushes through the ring of muscles that surround your opening, your mouth fell ajar and spilled soft moans at the contortive sweeps he made against your sensitive spots. His nose dug into your sex as he ate you up, the scent of your arousal filled his nasal canal. You shamelessly rut your hips against his face with a high pitched whine, the sloshing sound of your pussy against his mouth only further increase your libido. Nanami grips your thighs tightly in his large hands, a throaty moan elicited from him as his tastebuds soak up your fluids, the alternative lapping and sucking between your clit and the sensitive folds around your hole send constant shock waves to your lower abdomen.
When he pulls away from your cunt, you can feel his large hands eagerly fiddle with the band of your thong. You hear a shredding sound as your underwear gets torn into two when he rips it out, followed by a few seconds of shuffling with the bed creaking underneath both of you. You don’t dare to speak or whine for him to touch you again, he was clear to assert his dominance on you tonight, and you weren’t able to utter anything either when he removes the blindfold that successfully obliterated your vision the whole time.
You blink rapidly, your irises trying to adjust to the night light before you saw his fully nude figure hover over you like a tower. A light shade of pink harvested across his nose, matching his hard chest that had a small trail of blond hair. The tip of his nose, stubbly chin and lips are glistening with your own arousal underneath the moonlight that peered through your curtains. You assume he’s about to press your lips into yours for a hard kiss, but you’re proven wrong once he takes your nipple into his mouth with a low moan, the vibrations from his voice travel across the swell of your breast as his large hand grips the other, pinching your nipple while his tongue swirls around the bud.
“Nanam—“
“Kento.” He corrects lowly against your breast, before moving up to level with your face to kiss you harshly, you groan into his mouth when you taste yourself. Your eyes snapping open when you feel the head of his cock nudging your folds. A noticeable string of his salty pre-cum is attached to your lips when he pulls way to sit on his knees, his large hand wrapped around his throbbing cock before lining it with your cunt. He rubs his dick in between your folds, your slick covered labia providing a natural lubricant. Your jaw falls into a wordless moan, followed by a desperate whine when he purposely bumps your clit with the head of his cock, every glide leaving his dick glistening with your wetness.
Your distress is clear in the noises you make, your hips rutting upwards again in desperate attempts for more friction as you fight the restraints of his belt while he continues fucking himself against you. “Kento, please.” You whimper, only for him to curse under his breath, he grabs the back of your thighs and hikes them up to his waist. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, throwing your head back against the pillow when he defeatedly gives in to your needs and pushes his cock into you, his length disappearing inside your body as it breaches your velvet walls in the process.
The butterflies that flocked around your tummy are released when he leans down to your level, his arms caging both sides of your head. “God..” Nanami hisses, his breath fanning your face as he stills inside of you, “Like you’re fuckin’ made for me.” He groans, before pulling out to the tip, you nearly whine at the sudden emptiness before he snaps his hips against yours into a hard thrust, coercing a garbled cry from you as the ridges of his cock brush against your gummy walls, your lips stretching with his girth as he pushes deep enough to feel your wet slit against the flat planes of his pelvis.
You never assumed the seemingly stoic and reserved lawyer with a disdain to questions with open interpretations, to like fucking his women tied up and in heels only. But the thought only excites you more — only has your walls clenching around him even more.
When Nanami increases the pace of his thrusts, an indescribable amount of heat travels through his veins as he watches the way your mouth opens in ecstasy with strangled moans, your eyebrows furrowed when he rests his forehead against yours. “Such a fucking—“ He hisses, pausing to let out a low groan when you contract your pelvic muscles around him. His hand moves to grip your upper thigh, his fingernails leaving crescent moons on your flesh. “Is this what you wanted?” Nanami grits, followed by a pant before his mouth sucks in your bottom lip with a sweep of his hot tongue. “Yes, “ You mewl when he pulls away from your lips, a few strands of hair matted to your forehead from your sweat. “Want this — want you. Kento, please—“
A loud moan escapes your lips when he fucks you deeper, your walls squeeze around this girth as he impales you with his cock, his pelvis against your pulsating clit. Your nails dig into the leather belt as the headboard slams against the wall due to his merciless thrusts, the squelching sounds of your hole only encourage Nanami to snap his hips against yours in a harsher manner.
He recalls your attitude in his office; the childish huffing and tapping of your nails and heels, reeking with clear agitation. The hard-headed responses and the occasional scoffs to every solution he tried to present. More specifically, the absolute audacity to say: “Is this what I hired you for?” after all of his help and efforts — after quite literally refusing to represent your husband once he received your call and taking your case file under his wing instead.
You said to fuck the attitude of you, who is he to decline his precious client’s wishes? If not your divorce attorney?
“Gonna act like a brat again?” Nanami suddenly questions with a heavy breath. Dumbfounded, you shake your head frantically with your eyes screwed shut. His hand leaves your thigh to grip the sides of your face, squeezing your cheeks as your wet lips pucker at him. Your dewy eyes open to see the desire in his chestnut brown ones, the pink flush dusting the apple of his cheeks. His forehead and upper lip glistens with sweat, and you couldn’t help but lick into his mouth, having a taste of his salty skin as he pecks your lips in response. “No? Gonna be a good girl from now on?” He pants against your mouth, his own lips smudged with your scarlet lipstick. You you can only cry out in pleasure before lifting your head to bury your face in his hot chest, frenziedly nodding your head with a whimper. Your legs shake with euphoria as the the heels of your shoe accidentally scrape against Nanami’s back with every thrust, but he only considers it an additive dosage to the pleasure.
“Fuck,” Nanami curses, sitting up on his knees before rapidly unfastening the leather belt that tied you to the headboard. Your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you watch his glistening chest and neck from below, the sight enough to have your mouth salivate at the gorgeous man on top of you. When your wrists are free, your eyes lit up at the idea of wrapping your arms around his large figure as he rams his cock into you again. But your expectations are thrown at the window when he suddenly flips you over onto your stomach, a harsh smack delivered to your asscheek as you yelp in place.
With the side of your face against the pillow, you see his hand dive into the ice bucket once again from the corner of your eye. You were sure all the ice has melted at some point, but you’re proven wrong when Nanami pulls out a small pebble. A shudder runs down your spine when you feel him drag it with his lips from in between your shoulder blades and down your vertebrae, melting the cube into a small puddle of cold water right on your lower back.
A quiet gasp escapes your mouth when you feel his hot tongue against your skin. He drags the wet muscle from your lower back and up your spine in the opposite direction, licking off the trail of water the ice cube left behind. Nanami preps kisses all over your shoulders, his wet cock rubbing against your asscheeks. The sensation causes you to wiggle your ass against his cock for more friction, but the grip he has on your hip tells you to wait, to be patient.
“You’d look so pretty covered in my cum..” he whispers into your ear. Your eyes fluttered shut with a small sigh as he presses a wet kiss to your cheek. “Mhm yeah, you would.” Nanami quietly tells himself, before giving you a small lick behind your ear. Your mouth forms a small gap as you shamelessly droll into the pillow, you know better than to shift underneath him again, so you try to stay as perfectly still as possible, your chest heaving with anticipation.
His hand moves from your hip down to your asscheek, giving it a small pinch that has your eyes snap open with a sharp intake of breath. “M’gonna paint you with my cum, riiight..” He trails off slowly, his hand stopping at your lower back. “Here.”
The thought has you rubbing your thighs together with a small whimper, before you fully bury your face into the pillow, “Do it.” you muffle, propping yourself on your elbows with your back pressed against his chest, you crane your neck to look at him, your lips wet and mascara smudged underneath your lash line. “Mark me, make me yours, Kento.” You breathe out, his hand moves up to grip your breast, a small hiss escaping his lips at your words. His other hand lines his cock with your soaking hole again, both of your maws falling ajar as his cock gets swallowed by the warmth of your cunt again.
With one hand on your breast and the other on your hip, he stretched you out completely with his girth again. His hand moved from your chest up to your throat, bending your neck backwards for you to look at him upside down as he sits up on his knees, your back arched at the action. It introduced an uncomfortable strain to your neck, but when he bent down to kiss you roughly, his tongue dipping into your mouth to tangle with yours, all mixed with his harsh thrusts as he rammed his cock into you, you couldn’t help but turn putty in his hands.
He pulled away from your lips, but his hand remained on your throat to keep your neck situated in the same angle to look at you. You lost yourself for a minute, your brain turning into mush because you instinctively opened your mouth wide, your tongue sticking out and flat against your chin. Nanami seemed to get the hint, because he leaned down again to let a ball of spit fall from him mouth to land on your tongue perfectly, which you gladly swallowed before he pressed his lips against yours again.
“Mhm, so good.” You moaned into his mouth, your fluttering walls accommodating his thick cock. “Yeah? Feels good?” Nanami grunts, before pushing your head into the pillow and pulling your ass further up to his pelvis, another harsh slam of his cock nearly sending you forward and towards the headboard. “Good enough for you?”
Your moans were muffled into your pillow as you gripped the sheets tightly in your fists, your nails digging into the fabric. Your could feel the dark blond hairs of his pubis, along with the heaviness of his gonads as they slapped against your wet slit with every hard thrust, the slouching sounds of your cunt dominating the room as the air grew stuffy around you two. Nanami’s hands gripped both sides of your hips tightly, his fingers digging into the fat surrounding your bones as he fucked you into oblivion. You couldn’t help but push back against his groin for deeper penetration in an attempt to match his unrelenting tempo, and your actions seemed to satisfy Nanami because he growls at your eagerness, “That’s it. Fuck back onto me, baby.”
“Kento!” You whined in ecstasy, feeling the crown of his thick cock thrust up to your cervix, your gummy walls feeling the outline of every vein as they clamped down his dick. “Ngh, m’gonna..cum—!”
“Hold it.” He deadpans, grabbing your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your back. Your mind could barely register his command, unable to articulate his words as your knees began to struggle to hold your weight up any longer. “What?” you cried out, moving your head to the side as your cheek pressed against your soft pillow. “I said fucking hold it.” Nanami snaps gruffly, a hand coming down to slap the outside of your thigh, “You don’t get to cum now.”
“I..can’t—!” You begin, but the hold he has on you tells you it’s not up for discussion, because he only slaps your thigh again in response. “You can and you will.” Nanami asserts through gritted teeth, his cock barely giving you time to breathe properly as it plows into your cavern, the head nudging your insides harshly.
“Plea—se.” Your choked out with a sniffle, your vision growing blurry as salty tears welled up your eyes and hung on the ends of your lashes. A strangled sob caught in your throat as you painfully clench your muscles hard enough in an attempt to stop your orgasm from washing over your withering body. His hands move in a flash, and you find yourself suddenly tugged from your hair for you to sit up on your knees with your back pressed against his chest, the sweatiness of both your bodies nearly glueing you two together.
“Think you deserve to cum?” Nanami pants in your ear, his large hands cupping your breasts and squeezing the flesh. His tongue dips out of his mouth to lick a stripe of your neck, and you throw your head back into his shoulder with a moan when his cock kisses your sweet spot. “I don’t think so, baby. I think a brat like you shouldn’t get to cum at all.” His words cause your lips to tremble, a small cry elicited from your throat as you began to babble incoherently, your words running in together. “What was that?” Nanami asks urgently, his hand moving from your breast to your face to force you to look at him, your chin wedged between the web of his thumb and index finger. Your cunt almost feels like a taste of heaven to him — snug and warm as you take him whole while he fucks you harder.
Your chest begins to burn as your lungs struggle to take in moderate breaths of air, your lower abdomen clenching and legs going numb as you feel your climax dangerously approach you with every passing second. “Wanna cum Kento, please let me cum.” You sob out, eyes blinking away the tears that inevitably trickle down your heated cheeks. A thin sheet of sweat covers your naked, greedy bodies, your pants mingling and accommodating the sounds of your soaping cunt that takes in his veiny cock gracefully.
Full to the hilt with his cock, Nanami’s hand moved from your cheek to your mouth as you suck on his digits to the knuckle, your tongue rapidly swirling and coating his fingers with a thick layer of saliva before he pulled his fingers out. His hand travels down your navel to rub circles around your pulsating clit, causing you to moan out deliriously as he exploits the wetness of his fingers to effortlessly draw shapes around the pleasure center of your vulva. His lips brush against your ear, hot breath dusting your skin before he whispers a single demand, his strict tone enough to send a jolt of electricity through your veins.
“Cum.”
Your core tights one last time, the muscles coiled in your lower abdomen felt like a tight string that suddenly snapped. White spots obliterated your already blurry vision as you shamelessly gushed around his cock, your cum coating his dick and trickling to his balls that continued to slap against your bum with his never-ending thrusts. You continue to spasm around him as the fingers circulating your clit fail to cease, your body convulsing as he insisted on milking you dry from your fluids, “Oh—!”
You exhaustingly fall back onto the mattress while Nanami continues to thrust erratically into your soaked cunt. His brows pinched in together with grunts tumbling from his rosy lips, his dark chocolate eyes watching the fat of your asscheek ripple every time the front of his thighs slap against the back of yours, your sticky slit produces a string of your own arousal that attaches itself to the base of his cock and pubic hair every time he pulled his dick from your lips before ramming into you again.
“So tight for me,” He growled from behind you, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the erotic sounds. “Mhm, gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” Nanami confesses in quick pants, before his thrusts began to decrease in speed, but the depths his cock reach inside of you remain the same as he fucks you slow and deep. He pulls his cock out from your hole, a slick essence covering his dick as his hand wraps around his length, fisting his cock rapidly before thick spurts of his cum painted your lower back and bum white. Low, short moans elicited at the sight in front of him as he reached his crescendo. You can only lay down on the duvet and let him ejaculate all over you, trying to regain your strength and energy while he finished himself off.
You both take in slow, moderate breaths, when Nanami cums. You feel his lips press a few kisses against the back of your skull before he slowly moves from on top of you and out of the bed, the mattress springing up at the loss of extra weight. You take the opportunity to slide off your heels for it to join the rest of your clothes on the floor. Hearing Nanami swing your bathroom door open, he shuffles through the drawers before the faucet started running momentarily. A smile itched on your face when you hear his footsteps trail towards you, a cold wet cloth suddenly wiping at your back, bum and in between your thighs, he makes sure to pepper small kisses while completing his task, but it only made your smile grow against the pillow before he dumps the sticky cloth into a nearby bin.
Nanami picks up his trousers from the floor and fumbles with the pockets, taking out two items before crawling into bed next to you and pulling the sheets over both of your nude bodies. He leans his back against the headboard as he takes out a cigarette from the pack, placing the stick in his mouth. You watch him carefully as one hand holds the lighter while the other cuffs around his mouth, the cigarette hanging lazily from his lips as he lights it up. Your turn on your back with a small sigh, hearing Nanami’s occasional exhales as you basked into a comfortable silence.
“I’m gonna refurbish the house.” You state quietly, your eyes fixed on the ceiling. You can feel Nanami watch you from the corner of your eye, before you propped your elbow on the mattress to look at his face, manicured fingers caressing his bare chest as they trailed the blond hairs that littered down his sternum. “A new place won’t remind me why it all went wrong.” You elaborate softly, Nanami exhales out a cloud of smoke, before questioning monotonously, “You have the money for that?”
“I will.” You hum knowingly, before crawling to sit on his lap, the sheets tangling between your naked forms. “You sure you wanna go after everything he’s got?” Nanami cautiously asks, recalling your conversation after the incident with your assailant, when you had stated your intention of taking over all of your husband’s assets. Revenge is petty, but you believed it’s the most convenient solution for the likes of your husband.
“Claiming the house worked in my favour, although it is missing something..” you trail off smoothly. Nanami arches an amused eyebrow, a hand resting behind his head as his lips wrap around the cigarette once again, the butt flickering with red specks as he inhales the nicotine. You peck his neck and throat, before trailing down his chest, your lips pressing against his skin in between every word as you travel down to his navel, “A handsome..successful..blond lawyer.”
Nanami only smirks knowingly as you flutter your eyelashes at him. When you stepped into his office a week ago, he confidently predicted that you would be a difficult client to work with given your high status — the typical spoiled wife, only known for her title as the spouse along with your charming looks. But you were a lot smarter than Nanami gave you credit for. You weren’t just a persistent woman like you had declared earlier, your intelligence and resilience have also gotten you everything you had wanted. And if there is one thing Nanami wasn’t proven wrong about so far, it was that first assumptions aren’t exactly always correct.
SYNOPSIS: nanami gets caught peeping on his little girl.
PAIRING: stepdad!nanami & step!daughter!reader
CONTENT WARNING: stepcest, female masturbation, voyeurism, age gap, mentions of phone sex, cheating (nanami & reader), dubcon, degradation, questionable misogyny, nipple play, fingering, breeder balls, mentions of noncon (kinda) somno, no foreplay, quickie, almost getting caught, creampie
A/N: this is my submission for @ultimate-astridwriting 's pervert collab! the link for the collab can be found here!
MASTERLIST
He knew that it was wrong, but regardless of the realization, his feet continued to move up the stairs and into your bedroom. From the minute he had walked into the house, he had heard your voice. Despite the fact that it was soft in volume, he was able to easily make out the words.
"We need to hurry up, 'Gumi, my stepdad will be home from work soon. Just cum already, please."
Your voice was fake and whiny, putting unnecessary emphasis on your words.
As he reached your room, his hand reached out, stopping a couple inches from the door. From where he was standing, he was able to see everything from your neck down. Your legs were spread out on your bed while you pumped a thick dildo into yourself. Every couple of thrusts, your back would arch and your body would tense up due to the pleasure. Your nipples were pebbled under his thin shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination.
You heard your boyfriend's labored grunts through the phone as he continued fisting his cock. You had been on the phone for thirty minutes, you were tired and ready to take a shower. It would be different if you hadn't already cum, but you had. At this point, pumping the dildo in you was pointless.
After a few more minutes, he was finally done. You told him goodbye and hung up the phone. You released a deep breath that you didn't even know you were holding. You usually weren't so irritated when you got off the phone, but you knew you were really cutting it close this time.
"For fuck's sake, finally... Now I can finally go shower."
You stood up, covered in only your stepdad's shirt, and walked towards your door. You were startled when the door opened before you even had a chance to do it yourself. There before you stood Nanami with his arms crossed. How long had he been standing there? Surely he couldn't have been there long, otherwise, he would have heard the events that had just taken place.
No, you shook your head, he couldn't have been there long. Nanami was a respectful guy, he wouldn't have eavesdropped on you. If he had heard you, he likely would have gone the opposite direction and avoided you for the next few days. But if that was the case, why did he have a visible tent in his pants just now?
"Nanami, you're back early. I thought that you didn't get off of work until 6?" The nervousness was clear in your voice. You were obviously testing the water to see what situation you had found yourself in. It was cute, Nanami thought, all the confidence you had with your little boyfriend had dissipated right in front of his eyes.
"I thought I'd come home early to surprise my little girl, but it looks like my little girl has surprised me instead." His eyes hungrily gazed at every inch of your body but stared particularly long at your nipples through his sheer shirt.
Shit. He knew. Your knees started to visibly shake as you stood in front of him. You instinctively started to back away from him, trying to cover your body in the process. This was clearly some misunderstanding.
"Nanami, I should really go shower. What would you like to have for dinner-"
"Enough of the small talk, Y/N. Why don't we talk about how you were whoring around on the phone under my roof."
He started to walk towards you. With every step he took forward, you took another step back. This continued until you back of your legs hit your bed. Before you had a chance to react, he pushes you down against the bed. Your body dramatically falls back onto the bed.
You quickly sit up on your elbows, staring at the man above you. His arms connect with the bed, caging you in under him. In this position, you're able to smell the cologne that he's wearing. It's the one you had gotten him for father's day last year. Subconsciously, you take a deep breath in. You'd always love the musky scent of the cologne.
One of his hands hook under your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. His grip is firm, one you wouldn't be able to shake out of even if you tried. Your eyes cautiously flicker up to his. His eyes are cold, focused on your face. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.
"I work hard, every day. I do it so you can prance around at college, and waste my money on things like clothes and shoes. I never ask for anything in return. The least you can do is keep your legs shut under my roof."
"That's not fair... he's my boyfriend!" You try to defend yourself, but it only seems to provoke Nanami even more.
"I don't care if he's your husband. As long as you're under my roof, you won't act like a whore for some subpar boy."
"I'm not a whore, Nanami. " Your words become softer and softer with every syllable.
"Yes, you are. You're a thoughtless little whore. Lucky for you, that's how I like my women." Your thighs clench at the degradation, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Nanami.
The hold on your chin moves to your chest, tweaking your perk nipple roughly. Your doe eyes meet his once more. When your gaze finally reached his, he's looking at you as if you were a piece of meat. He continues to play with your nipples, watching how your thighs rub against each other.
Slowly, his big hands start to creep down your body, inching towards his shirt. You quickly remember that you're bare under the t-shirt.
"What about my boyfriend, what about your wife?" You quickly ask him, hoping that this will snap you both out of the spell you're in. Instead, it makes his cock throb in his pants. He had already caught your mom cheating on him and he's sure your boyfriend doesn't please you in bed, it was a two-for-one deal in his opinion.
"I'll fuck you better than him. Don't you want a man to fuck you? Or are you satisfied with a boy fucking you? As for my wife, she's already broke her vows, it's only fair I do the same."
A hand pushes your shirt up, exposing your naked cunt to the older man. Two of his thick fingers swipe through your folds quickly, soaking his fingers before he sinks them deep into your cunt. Immediately, he's pushing against your g-spot with precision.
You don't have enough strength to keep the moan in, letting it reverberate through the room. His fingers are yanked out as quick as they sunk in. His fingers push past your lips roughly. You suck his fingers harshly, coating his thick fingers with saliva. You'd never tell anyone, but you loved tasting yourself on someone else.
Your neglected clit throbs as arousal starts to course through your body again. As Nanami looks down, he's able to see the swollen bud through your pussy lips. The sight before him causes him to lick his lips. Ever since he'd married your mother, all he could think about was how tight his stepdaughter's cunt would feel wrapped around him.
There had been too many nights where he had snuck into your room. After making sure you were in a deep sleep, he'd push aside your panties to take a look at your cunt. He'd furiously jack himself off above you as he eyed his stepdaughter's fertile cunt. How would you react if you knew he had done that? Would it make your cunt clench around nothing or would it make you reel back in disgust?
The thought alone had him yanking his fingers out of your mouth to unbuckled his pants. His cock has been throbbing in his boxers since he had heard the slutty sounds coming out of your mouth. He watched as you hungrily eyed him. He made a show out of yanking his cock out.
Your eyes widen when he yanks the entirety of his cock out. His cock is big, with multiple veins running down the sides of it. That's not what draws your attention though. Right under his cock sits two breeder balls, achingly full of cum.
"You don't know how much I've wanted to fuck your sweet, little cunt.
He pushes his cock past your tight entrance, groaning as he feels your cunt grip him. It's been years since he's felt a pussy so tight. He has to force himself deeper into your core due to the resistance. Your back arches as his cock reaches a spot not even your dildo had reached.
After a few moments, he starts thrusting deep into you. The sound of his big balls slapping against your ass reverberate throughout the room. As your walls relax, he's able to pick up the pace of his thrusts. Your hands roam around his body, deciding to mess up his hair that was previously styled.
He continues thrusting into you, angling his hips to try to find that spot that would have you clenching around him. After a few thrusts, he's got it. Your moans and whines increase in volume as he continues to press his sensitive cockhead against the gummy spot. His hand wraps roughly around your throat, squeezing the sides as he mumbles in your ear.
"Does it feel better than that useless toy?" His voice is laced with lust, sounding far deeper than usual. The sound makes you clench around him.
"Mhmm, yes daddy! You feel so much bigger, much better.
As soon as he hears "daddy" leave your throat he's immediately picking up the tempo, desperate to make the both of you cum as soon as possible. He focuses on slamming his hips into the spot that had you crying out for him. The angle allows him to graze against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your end.
Your fingers alternate between pulling his hair and scratching down his back. Both of which turn the older man on immensely. You push your hips up every thrust, humping every last inch of Nanami's cock. After a few more thrusts, you're cumming around him. Your spasming walls work hard to force him out, but he relents. He won't leave this pussy until he's filled it with his cum.
The sound of the door closing startles you both. You quickly try to push him off of you as you hear your mom's voice on the phone. From her lack of enthusiasm, you guess that she's likely on a work call. Instead, he keeps thrusting deep into you, taking the time to roll his hips into your core.
"Daddy, she's gonna catch us." He groans in your ear as he hears the words come out of your mouth. It has his cock throbbing deep in your core.
"Fuck. I can't stop, baby. Your little cunt feels too good. Maybe I should just let her catch us." It's your turn to whimper as he speaks lewdly in your ear.
"You're such a pervert, daddy. You're gonna let your wife catch us?"
His thrusts pick back up. Your pussy is quick to cum around him again, leaving another milky layer of cum around the base of his cock. The mixture of cum and arousal strings between your two bodies, amplifying the messy sound of sex. You're honestly surprised your mom hasn't come up here yet based on the noise.
"What do you think she'd do when she saw her daughter fucking her husband, huh? What would you tell your mom?"
You steal a quick kiss from him before responding. "I'd tell her that my daddy has the biggest cock I've ever seen."
His head falls forward into the crook of your neck as he swears lowly. He's on the verge of release, just needing a little bit more. He captures your lips in another heated kiss as he continues his deep strokes.
Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Your mother is still on the phone, oblivious as her husband fucks her daughter. She continues walking past your room straight to her office. The anxiety has you clenching around him, begging for him to cum before she catches the both of you.
"I want her to catch us. I want to tell her that your pussy is the best I've ever had. I'm never gonna let this pretty cunt go."
"Yes, daddy. It's all yours. My cunt is all yours."
Those are the words that push him over the edge. He cums deep inside you, not bothering to pull out. You don't mind though. His warm cum feels good inside your sensitive walls.
"I'm serious. I want to keep doing this, Y/N."
"I'd like that."
You share a tender kiss, still in the same position. His cock has gone soft in you, acting as a plug to keep his cum inside you. You're sure that you should reprimand him for cumming inside you, but you don't have the willpower to do it right now.
The two of you are brought back to reality whenever a phone starts buzzing beside the two of you. You're sure it's one of your lovers, but neither of you cares to find out who's it is.
Note: If your username was a dead tag, I’ve removed it from my taglist. If you requested to be on my taglist but aren’t getting tagged, message me and we can figure it out
content + warnings: 18+, including: dilf!toji, manhandle, spitting, daddy kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of school girl!reader maybe, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, age gap, a bit of size kink, thigh riding
pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader
— note: this is a bit inspired by: Love Without Tragedy by Rihanna.
— jjk masterlist.
Four boys of the Bakr family were killed by a missile strike during last year’s incursion. Their surviving family members are still scarred from the attack.
More than anyone, children bear the brunt of regular Israeli military assaults on the Gaza Strip. During the 51-day war in the summer of 2014, 551 children were killed and 3,436 were injured. But these gruesome figures say little about the psychological state of the nearly 800,000 children who have survived the periodic bombing campaigns. After the final cease-fire that ended Israel’s Operation Protective Edge on August 26 of last year, UNICEF estimated that at least 425,000 Palestinian children in the besieged Gaza Strip require “immediate psychosocial and child protection support.”
[ The physical wounds of Gaza children might have healed, but they live with enduring psychological trauma ]
“anonymous said: hello 👉🏼👈🏼 is it possible to place a request? either a merman!aizawa who’s entrapped in a research aquarium where fem!reader is tasked to look after him and he sees her as his mate during mating season? 👁👄👁 or vampire!overhaul who makes his turned fem! s/o rely on his blood to survive? 👁👄👁 feel free to ignore these options, but just know i love your writing! don’t forget to drink water and take breaks in between :)”
thank you nonny! while they were both good suggestions, i can’t resist a good vampire hehe, i hope you like this (｡ • ᴗ-｡)✧
only you, you’re the only thing i’ll see, forever
pairing: vampire! overhaul/kai chisaki x fem vampire! reader
— “I’m…” you swallow dryly, as weak and dizzy as you are you have to speak to him properly, you know he won’t listen to you unless you do. You take a deep, shuddering breath to continue, “Master, I’m thirsty. May… I please feed?”
You expect him to lower his hand to you, to shift his glove down to have you suckle at his wrist until he deems you sufficiently fed; but this time when he lowers his arms, it’s to pull you up onto his lap. —
CONTENT WARNING: mature language, stubborn reader, unrequited love (but no angst), a single slap (reader slaps naoya), predator/prey kink, talk about pheromones, mentions of heat, edging, degradation, dubcon, knotting, marking, breeding.
A/N: this is the third piece for my 500 follower event. thank you anon for the request! the lineup for this one is a/b/o au + unrequited love + predator/prey kink, edging & degradation.
You darted around the corner of the flower shop, making a beeline for your house the minute you heard his voice. You'd been told on various occasions that Naoya had been looking for you in hopes of asking you something important. You're not stupid, you've seen the dumb lovestruck look on his face the last few times you'd talked. You were quick to put two and two together, choosing to avoid the alpha at any cost.
It's uncommon for a woman your age to be unmated. As the months went by, you had progressively gotten more and more snarky comments from the older community. Usually, as soon as female wolves became of age, they'd quickly find a suitable mate. You had other plans though. You planned to save up enough money to start a life in a city full of humans. That way, you wouldn't have to worry about all the rules that come with being an omega.
You slowed down as you reached your front door, taking a moment to find your keys. As the wind picked up, you froze. You knew that scent anywhere. Naoya has always smelled like a mixture of rain and peppermint. Growing up, it was always a scent that had always comforted you. Any time something had bothered you, you never failed to run into his arms for comfort. That's not the case anymore though. You had finally realized what you wanted and he would only get in the way of it.
As though not to seem suspicious, you slowed your movements as you opened the door. Thinking that you had just imagined it, you shake your head as you walk inside. You take a deep breath as you hear the "click" of the door shutting. You must have imagined his scent because he would have stopped you had he been outside. Walking to the fridge, you pour yourself some water, sipping it as you calm down.
"It's not safe to let alphas sneak up on you. You are an unmarked omega, after all. What would you had done if I had been a bad guy?"
You startle at his voice, whipping your body around to face the man. His slender body was leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. You feel anger creeping into you, how had he even gotten in here in the first place? He continued lecturing you even though you had obviously drowned him out. That was something you had especially hated. He wasn't your mate, so he needed to stop acting like he was.
Deciding to just bite the bullet, you asked him the question that was weighing down on you. "Naoya, what are you doing here?"
His face immediately lit up, much to your annoyance. You watched him intently, trying to figure out if he was going to give you the run-around first or not. It seemed like you were lucky because he saved you the antics this time.
"Y/N, I'm going to tell you something and you can't freak out."
"Noaya, I'm not a little girl anymore, there's nothing you can say that will freak me out."
"I want you to be my mate. You know that I would take care of you-"
Immediately you're shaking your head "no." Deciding to just be honest, you cut him off before he can continue.
"You know that I want to go to the city with the h-"
"Do not finish that sentence. It's nonsense and you know it. You're not a human, so it's silly to even act like you are. You don't get to move to the city and live with those things. Quit acting delusional, you're going to have to mate with a wolf, and it should be me."
"Get out."
You storm out of the kitchen, retiring to your bedroom until he leaves. How dare he tell you not to make up fantasies. He's the one who's being delusional. A loud slam draws your attention back to him. Did he just slam your fucking door? Fuck that. You storm out the front door, taking large strides until the man is back in your sights.
You grab his arm, yanking him around to face you. Both of you share a similarly angry look. A hand strikes his face, turning his head with the force of your hand. Subconsciously you knew that you had fucked up, but he needed a reality check. You could see his jaw clench as his head slowly turned to face you.
"You have some fucking balls, Naoya. Slamming shit in my house? You don't get to do that bullshit today. You're mad because I'd rather be with the humans than be here with you? I knew you could be selfish, but this is a new low, even for you."
"I would take this time to run, little omega, because if you stay here it is going to get ugly very quickly."
His voice reeked of authority, something that came along with being an alpha. Every single word out of his mouth sent a new wave of fear through you. This was the first time an alpha had ever spoken to you like that. His pheromones had increased significantly, filling your body with arousal. You couldn't help it, it was a biological reaction to being around such a powerful alpha.
An evil smirk crossed his face as he smelt your arousal in the air. He took a step towards you, reaching for your arm. You couldn't let him catch you, you knew what would happen if he did. Just thinking about it had more arousal pooling between your thighs. You need to move immediately. As you bolted, you could hear his heavy footsteps following you. Stupid omega, did you actually think that he's just let you go after you showed just how affected by him you were? Not a chance in hell.
You ran as fast as your feet could go, darting through the trees around your house. Your breathing had become completely unregular as you pushed yourself to run faster. You knew that you'd have to lose him quick, you'd never be able to outrun an alpha. A sick sense of pleasure coursed through his veins. After years of being around you, he finally had you acting like a true omega.
His scent was becoming overwhelming, pumping through the air as his anger and arousal plagued his mind. His mind was set solely on catching you and making you submit. He’d spent too much time being the nice guy, today he’d show you why he was the right alpha for you.
Your movements faltered for a split second, but that’s all the Naoya needed. The minute that he caught you, he was dragging you back indoors, making sure to slam the door on the way in. You knew that the action was meant to piss you off and piss you off it did. You were yanking your arm away from him, pushing him about a foot back. The crazed anger was back in your eyes, arousal temporarily forgotten.
"I'd be careful of your next actions, omega. I still haven't forgotten about your earlier mistake." Again, his voice was deep and powerful, nothing short of an alpha. From this close, he was able to smell just how aroused you were. Desperate to mark you, he decided to take advantage of the situation. He stepped forward, closing the remaining distance between the two of you.
"Let me mark you, baby, I promise I'll give you everything you need and more."
Avoiding eye contact at all costs, you shake your head in disagreement. You knew that if you opened your mouth that you might say something that you didn't mean. You were holding on to the little bit of sanity that you had in the moment. The longer you were around him, the more biology threatened to take over. All your body was registering was the unmated alpha in your presence.
Suddenly you started to feel extremely hot and lightheaded. You backed away, trying to get some fresh air to calm down. Not getting the hint, Naoya stepped forward too. Gently prying him off of you, you try to get back to the kitchen. Surely you'd feel better after getting some water into your system. He doesn't let you though, the more you try to get personal space, the closer he is to your body.
"Naoya, I just need a minute, I don't feel so good right now."
He chuckles but relents. Wordlessly he's following you into the kitchen. Even as you chug cup after cup of water, you don't feel any better. He stands across the room, eyes following you with precision. He finds it a little humorous. The stupid little omega hasn't figured out what's wrong with her yet.
"Drinking water won't help your heat, you should know that though."
The glass in your hand drops into the sink, breaking into three large pieces. Not even bothering to pay attention, you're turning to face him defensively. For the first time, you're able to accurately gauge the hunger in his eyes. His eyes are fixed on the curves of your body, the same body that's been teasing him for so many years.
Your body continues to heat up, aching as you refuse to pay attention to your early heat. As he approaches you, you're trying to stop him. You tell him time and time again to keep his distance before he does something that might ruin your friendship. He can't help it though. Every cell in his body is telling him to take care of his omega.
As soon as he's within an arms distance, you're pulling him into you. The contact with the alpha eases the pain a little bit. You swear internally, of course nature would do something like this right now. Losing the last little bit of patience, he's kissing you. Completely letting all inhibitions go, you're kissing him back with impatience. All you can think about is easing the pain that you feel in the moment.
You're stripping yourself of your clothes, still feeling like your body is one fire. You've never felt a heat like this before. Granted, you've never been around an unmated alpha during your heat. He pulls away, smugly admiring the way you look half-naked. His restraint is wearing thin, but he needs to hear you admit something. Pinning you between his body and the wall, he's speaking softly against your lips.
"If you want me to make it feel better, you're going to beg."
You decide in that instance that you won't beg. The defiance in your eyes isn't what it usually looks like. This time you seem like you're torn between two paths. As you consider your options, the pain starts to seep back into your body. You can't help it anymore, you need him to make it stop.
"Naoya, please make it stop."
"Tch. Not good enough."
"Naoya, seriously, it really hurts."
"Then beg for me."
"Alpha, please fuck me. I'll be good, I promise."
Satisfied, he's ripping off the remainder of your clothes and his clothes. Kneeling down on his knees, he throws a leg over his shoulder to admire your cunt. He nearly salivates as he sees the large amount of slick that's accumulated between your pussy lips. He buries his face in your cunt, finally able to smell your arousal directly from the source. He's quick to start licking and sucking your cunt. His tongue circles around your clit before sinking into your tight hole.
"You little lying bitch, I knew you'd be dripping onto the floor. Can't believe you were acting like you didn't want me."
You're groaning above him, finally feeling the negative impact of your heat subside. At this point, all you can focus on is the alpha between your legs. Your hands are tugging his hair, trying to pull his mouth back to your clit. He nips your thigh as a warning. Not paying attention, you make the mistake of doing it again. A deep growl escapes his throat.
"Quit acting like a little slut."
He keeps working you until you're close to your orgasm. He can tell due to the way you're sporadically clenching around his tongue. Deciding that you haven't quite learned your session, he slows down his movements. You internally whine as you feel your orgasm slowly slipping away from you. As the pace picks back up, you think that you might have imagined the tempo change.
You feel the high creeping up on you again. Pushing your hips closer to his tongue, you chase for the feeling. You don't notice him slowing the pace until your orgasm has faded again. By this point, you're feeling extremely frustrated, just wanting to cum on his tongue. Naoya notices this, of course, but he's determined to make you beg for every ounce of pleasure that he can give you. After the third time you're edged by him, your resolve has crumbled.
"Please let me cum, I'm sorry for earlier. Please, alpha, I need to cum."
Your voice is filled with frustration. You deserve it though, Naoya thinks. This is only a sliver of the frustration that he's felt over the years of being in love with you. Deciding that you haven't earned it, he's pulling away for the final time.
"Little sluts like you don't get to cum on my tongue. You can either cum on my cock, or not at all. You pick."
"Your cock, please let me cum on your cock."
He's bending you over the counter in an instant, presenting your plump ass to him. Smacking his cock against your asscheeks a few times, he watches how the fat jiggles with the impact. He pushed his cock in to the hilt, not caring that you haven't been properly stretched out yet. The both of you are moaning messes as you feel each other for the first time.
He's thrusting into you animalistically, yanking you back so hard you're afraid you might get hurt. This isn't something you're too focused on though, you're paying attention to the way you can feel all the veins on his cock glide across your slick walls. Your nails are gripping the counter with a vice grip as you lose yourself in the feeling.
As you feel him stretch you out, you wonder why you had ever been opposed to this in the first place. It really wouldn't have been so bad to be his mate. He's showing you right now just how good he'd take care of you. At this point, you don't care if nature is making you feel this way, all you want is to feel him fucking into you deep.
As he thrusts into you, all he can think about is your fertile cunt. If he were to knot you right now, he's sure that you'd be filled with his litter. The thought alone has him increasing his tempo and intensity. This is the closest he had ever been to making you his sweet little mate, he wouldn't let this opportunity pass. He knew it was now or never.
Just imagining his sweet omega pregnant with his babies has him falling over the edge. Before you have a chance to even think about it, his knot is swelling at the base. The stretching of your walls has you clenching around him sporadically. He groans as your cunt milks him of all he's worth. Deciding to take it a step further, he's sinking his canines into your exposed shoulder. A pleasured gasp leaves your mouth.
As his knot finally goes down, you're able to face your mate for the first time. You expect to feel hatred or sadness, but all you feel is hope, hope for a happy future along his side.
CONTENT WARNING: gun use (not sexually), toji is a hitman, a fight scene, knife use (not sexually), manhandling on both ends, mentions of death threats, mature language, reader has a gang tattoo, reader has battle scars on the face, some slapping, spanking, size kink, some jealous themes, multiple orgasms, male masturbation, heavy breeding,
A/N: this is the sixth piece for my 500 follower event! the lineup for this one is crime au + forbidden love + predator/prey kink, size kink, & breeding kink. this is not an accurate representation of gangs or gang members, just a fictional plot. i’m tired so i haven’t heavily edited it
"I got eyes on her boss, things should be wrapped up pretty quickly." Tapping the earpiece, Toji watched you from the other side of the road. Pushing up his sunglasses, he began to trial you from across the street, careful not to arouse any suspicion from you. You were walking and talking on the phone, seemingly unamused with your surroundings. Pulling out your work phone, you shot a quick text to your boss.
"Looks like it'll take me a little bit longer to get back to the meetup. I have a visitor."
Pressing send, you turn into the first alley that you see, waiting to see if the stranger would take the bait. You continued to zigzag through the various openings, confident that the person would follow you through the maze. The bottom of your shoes echoed as they hit the bottom of the ground. The streetlights gave the ally a little bit of an ominous vibe, perfect for the occasion.
You smirked as you heard the distant sound of footsteps. It seemed the stranger had taken the bait after all. This was perfect, you loved a little bit of fun. Choosing to up the fun, you picked up your pace, slowly making it up to a jogging pace. As you heard their pace increase, you break out into a sprint.
This was your side of town, so you knew the area well. Using that to your advantage, you kept weaving through the intricate area. As you rounded a corner you couldn't help but feel satisfied. Exactly as you had planned, the man was cornered, likely getting lost along the way. As your shadow stretched down the alley, he turns around. He chuckled loudly before running a hand through his dark hair.
Your eyes quickly rake over his body, looking for any identifying marks on his body. Just as you suspected, you see the large snake tattoo wrapping from his middle finger to the base of his neck. The tattoo looked intricate with many details throughout the piece. As you looked at his other arm, you saw various other tattoos that were gang-related. The tattoos immediately gave away two key facts; he was in the Southside Cobras and that he was a hitman.
"Southside sent a hitman, huh, that's not surprising." Walking forward, you pull out your gun, keeping it pointed towards his feet for the time being. You jerk the gun down, silently telling him to get down on his knees. You verbally tell him to rest his hands on his head and that you'll shoot without hesitation if he moves. He complies with no hesitation, silently moving to get into position.
You circle him, careful to keep your gun firmly grasped. You reach out to feel his pockets, searching for the weapons that you know you'll inevitably find. You internally roll your eyes as you feel the various weapons scattered throughout his clothes. Pulling them out one by one, you count in your head. Every Southside member carried exactly six weapons, although the weapon type varied based on your profession.
You pocket them as you pull them out, a little disappointed by the weapons that the hitman was carrying on his person. You scoffed when you pulled out the sixth one. Had he honestly planned to kill you solely using close-ranged weapons? He had to know that you constantly fought using long-distance weapons, many female gang members did for their own safety. All this told you was that he thought you'd be a quick kill.
Deciding that you weren't even interested anymore, you lower your gun and walk away. His arm grabs yours roughly, while a leg kicks out, effectively sweeping you to the ground. You grunt as your body slams against the ground. You swing your dominant arm around, making contact with his face with the end of your gun. The action has his grip loosening, giving you a chance to kick him in the chest roughly.
The contact throws him off balance, giving you a moment to get back to your feet. You quickly cock your gun, huffing when you realize that the bullet has jammed. Slamming the palm on your hand on the bottom of the clip with immense force, you cock it back again, ridding the gun of its bullet. Before you're able to aim and shoot, a boot roughly knocks the gun out of your hand and to the side.
You internally groan as you hear the heavy handgun hit the wall with a loud thud. Keeping your dominant hand up to protect your face, you reach into the waistband of your pants and pull out your next weapon of choice; two of the sharpest throwing knives that can be found. You tightly grip the handles as you await his next move.
You were extremely familiar with Southside's fighting skills, so your eyes were quick to pick up signs of future movement. You were able to accurately dodge punches and jabs that were thrown at you, blocking them with the outside of your fist. You expertly welded the sharp knives, barely grazing the skin on various occasions. You felt yourself grow more irritated when you were unable to land any of the strikes. Against your better judgment, you speed up your movements, hoping to catch him off guard.
You dodge another one of his strikes, grabbing the arm and yanking him forward. The action pulls him off balance just a little bit, but it's enough to spot the opening. You drop the opposite should, moving in to lodge the metal weapon deep in his core. As if he suspects the action, he's turning, barely avoiding the quick attack. Before you have time to come up with your next attack, he's roughly slamming your back into the wall of the alley.
Both of his hands roughly slam the back of your palms into the wall, forcing you to drop the weapons to the ground. You mentally curse as you hear the weapons rattling against the ground. You jerk your head back, ready to headbutt the shit out of him, but he's a step ahead of you. Before you're able to slam your head forward, his forehead is already pressed to yours. The two of you stare at each other in the eyes for a minute, sharing the same air between your ragged breaths.
"You used to be a better fighter, did the Brawlers not teach you any hand-to-hand techniques? Aren't you embarrassed that I beat you with only my hands when you used three different weapons? I should kill you right here because of that."
"You might as well kill me now because if I get out of this I will not hesitate to kill you."
"You used to love it when I had you like this, what changed? Oh, I know what it was. It was you. Y'know after you became a fucking traitor." His tone changed dramatically from the beginning of his monologue to the end of it. It quickly lost its lighthearted theme as it progressed. His grip around your wrist tightened to the point where you weren't getting enough blood flow into your fingertips.
He scoffs when he sees the intricate snake tattoo that peeks out from underneath your sleeve. His cold eyes meet yours before he loosens his grip on your wrists. His thumb gently runs across the tattoo. It was subtle, if you hadn't been hypersensitive to his touch, you might not have even noticed it yourself. A feeling of guilt runs through you briefly. You knew why he was mad, there was no doubt about it.
Unbeknownst to him, you were given orders to act as a snitch. You were explicitly given information to disclose to the Northside Brawlers, information that would eventually lead them into a trap. As soon as you were given your orders, you were explicitly told not to disclose the information to anyone, including Toji. Listening to the orders directly, you packed your things and left the residence without a word.
When you had shown up on the Northside's turf, you had immediately been taken to their boss and questioned. As expected, they immediately suspected that you were a liar and put you through a series of "tests." You were instructed to perform a variety of tasks, including betraying Southside on multiple occasions. After passing the months worth of tests, you had officially been initiated into the gang. From then on, you began planting little bits of information, just as you had been instructed to do.
You had heard through the grapevine that Toji had been livid when he had heard the news. It had sparked a bloodlust that he hadn't had since meeting you. He was accepting twice as many jobs, spending any chance he could eliminating people for the boss. He had successfully killed a few people in the Brawlers, hoping to get information about you from all of them. Had you been given the choice, you would have told him before your departure. The boss had a point though, Toji's reaction needed to be believable, thus that was your reasoning for not telling him.
Coming back to the present moment, he's still staring down at you. You're able to see the conflicting emotions in his eyes. There were obvious signs of both hatred and love. All of it was masked with a look of disgust though. His eyes scan over your face, quickly taking in the new scars that adorn your face. He wants to ask how you got them all, but he can't bring himself to. You're the enemy now.
"I've missed you, Toji. Have you missed me?" You knew the words would be like throwing gasoline in the fire, but you couldn't help it. Either way, you'd receive some sort of closure from him with his response. You didn't get a verbal response, instead, his lips are on yours. The kiss isn't sweet, it was dominated by anger and betrayal. You let him dominate the kiss, kissing him back with vigor. This was the only apology you could offer, for the time being. You'd make it up to him soon.
His hands let you go, instead moving to roughly grab your waist. You respond by yanking his hair a little bit. He moans into your mouth as he feels the burn on his scalp. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, pushing against yours as if it was the first time. He pushes his body impossibly closer to yours, pulling you into him as well. The kiss nearly suffocates you. You pull away gasping for a breath.
He kisses down your neck, turning your head so that he's able to get more access to the skin. He sucks harshly, hellbent on leaving his mark all over your body. Your eyebrows scrunch as he sucks rather harshly on a specific place. he continues the process until he's marked you to his liking. His tongue smooths over the marks, silently apologizing to the bruised skin.
His teeth pull on your earlobe gently, something he knew that you liked. As he lets the skin go, he ghosts the tip of his tongue on the shell of your head. Stopping his motions temporarily, he whispers in your ear, giving you goosebumps.
"I want to fuck you, I've missed your little cunt. Are you gonna let me fuck you, traitor?"
You wince at his words but nod, nonetheless. A gentle smack to your cheek has you verbally answering his question. He backs off of you, grabbing you by your upper arm. He walks to the nearest door, kicking in the wood roughly. He pulls you inside without a word. Before you have a chance to ask any questions, his hands are tugging at your shirt, quickly ridding you of the fabric. You allow him to hastily undress you because you've missed feeling him too.
"Take off your clothes, please, I want to see your body too."
He decides to hold back his snarky comment and instead chooses to yank off the tight black shirt. He feels a sense of pride when he sees your greedy eyes rake over his body. He knew he was good-looking, and he loved knowing that you found him attractive despite the circumstances.
As he sees you standing in your bra and underwear, he can't help but take a mental picture. He scans over your figure, relishing in the fact that you still looked familiar. There were only a few new scars on your body. He made a mental note to dispose of anyone who had given them to you. Reaching out, he roughly yanks at your bra. The pressure causes the latches on the back to break.
You audibly gasp as the ruined fabric drops to the floor. He's quick to reach out and play with your breasts. He roughly pulls your perked nipples between his fingers, rolling the skin between his calloused fingers. You let out a muffled moan in response to his actions. The sound has him growing hard. He continues playing with your breasts, fascinated in the way that they're growing sensitive to his ministrations.
"Get on the ground, on your hands and knees. I want to see your cunt."
Once you're settled in the position, his hands are quick to knead at the flesh of your ass. He pulls your asscheeks apart to see the flimsy piece of fabric sink deeper between the plush area. Your panties are soaked at the crotch, something that doesn't go unnoticed by the hitman. A heavy hand comes down and smacks your ass suddenly. You jump at the contact, letting out a yelp of surprise.
As the hand keeps coming down on your asscheek, he's fascinated by the fact that his hand dwarfs your ass. He alternates cheeks, giving you a moment to recuperate after each impact. Deciding that he's tired of the fabric, he's tugging it down, letting it rest by your bent knees. He keeps spanking you, never letting up.
He smirks as he sees your little hole clenching around nothing each time his hand makes contact with the stinging flesh. His cock gets impossibly harder when he sees your arousal starting to drip from your cunt. Your arousal drips to the floor when your body jerks with the impact again.
"Naughty little slut, getting off to your punishment."
"I'm sorry, Toji."
After a few more spanks, he decides that you've been punished enough He knows that you'll likely be sore on your ass, and that's enough for him. A thumb gently plays with your clit, eliciting a sweet moan from your mouth. The contrast in his ministrations have you feeling on edge.
You begin to rock back to increase the pressure on your clit. He pinches the sensitive bud, telling you to be patient. He wouldn't admit it but he's glad to see you as desperate for him as he is for you. He's spent months fucking his fist to the thought of you. Even though you had gone rogue, he couldn't bring himself to think of anyone but you.
He'd grown quite tired of his fist, angry because it couldn't compare to your pussy. You had ruined him when it came to sex. Nobody other than you would do it for him now. He had hoped that you felt the same, desperate to ruin men for you too. He didn't care why or how, he needed you to only be satisfied by him.
"Have you let anyone else play with what's mine?"
"No! Never! Only you. It's only ever been you."
"Good fuckin' girl."
He increases his pace and pressure on your clit as a reward, deciding that he'd let you cum before fucking you. You continue rocking back into his hand, wanting to cum because of him. You babbled various different praises, telling him how much you'd missed him and his cock. He ignores the throbbing in his cock, choosing to pleasure you instead. He needed to make a mess of you before fucking you.
It takes a few more minutes but you eventually feel the burn of your upcoming orgasm. Immediately you're begging Toji to let you cum, knowing that he'll be angry if you don't have his permission before releasing. He tells you to cum, not making you beg and plead too long this time. In all honesty, he was growing impatient himself.
You're cumming soon, body twitching violently. He watches your little hole clenching with hawk eyes, imagining how it'll feel choking his cock in a little bit. His thumb works you through your orgasm, milking all the pleasure from your body.
His hands yank down his boxers, freeing his large cock. Jerking his cock a few times, precum dribble from the tip. He drags the tip between your pussy lips, making sure to drag the tip across your clit each time. The motion smears the mixture of your arousal together.
You look over your shoulder at him. He looks divine. His hair is messy, likely due to the events that played out earlier. There's a thin layer of sweat over his muscles. You're able to see all the scars on his body, scars that have turned you on for years. His large cock sits in his hand. You bite your lip when you see that he's not able to fully wrap his hand around the girth.
As he watches you eye him, he's able to see the feral hunger in your eyes. It brings out some of the darkest thoughts from his brain. He wants to tear into you and make a mess out of the both of you. Your insatiable stare rakes over his whole body, stopping at his cock.
"Want me to give you a little show, baby?"
"Yes, please."
His rough hand drags along the length of his cock, twisting when he reaches the sensitive head. The feeling is increased tenfold when he sees you staring with jealously at his hand. He continues pumping himself, even thrusting into his hand a little bit. He throws his head back and groans, trying to provoke a reaction out of you. You whine in displeasure, wanting to be the one who makes him moan like that.
"What's wrong? I thought you wanted a show. Is that pretty little pussy jealous?"
You nod, pushing your hips back, hoping that you'll sink his fat cock in you by accident. Choosing to end his torture, he grabs your hips to stabilize you. He slaps his cock on the fat of your ass a few times, relishing in the loud sound of the impact.
Without a warning, he pushes the head in your tight hole. He teases you by just fucking the tip into you a few times. Once you get whiny underneath him, he starts to stuff you with more of his cock. You gasp and whine as you feel the uncomfortable burn. Despite this, you're still trying to desperately back your hips back on his cock.
You'd missed the feeling of him stretching you out. It truly felt like it was the first time all over again. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you take more of him. He keeps pushing inch by inch until he's all the way in. He leans over, kissing your shoulder blade as a reward for taking him all in with barely any prep.
One of his hands rests on the floor beside yours, while his other arm wraps around your waist, essentially mounting you. he starts off with slow, deep thrusts, allowing you to get adjusted to his cock again. After a few of those adjustment thrusts, he's picking up his pace.
He's so desperate to feel you, that he's fucking you almost ferally. There's a loud clap coming from the impact of his skin on yours. Slick is dripping down his balls and your thighs, ending in a puddle on the floor. Your head had fallen forward from the pleasure, eyes squeezed shut.
The arm around your waist keeps pulling you back into his cock, pushing him as deep as he can go. The cum from your previous orgasm has formed a ring around the base of his cock, acting as lubricating while he fucks you animalistically. He's grunting and groaning in your ear, lost in the feeling of your cunt being wrapped around him after so long.
Your cunt has always been the tightest one he's ever felt, even after he's stretched you around his cock numerous times. he's sure that he's engraved every ridge of his cock into the walls of your pussy by now. This was the most perfect pussy he had ever felt in his life, molded to take his cock perfectly.
"Kiss me."
His words are breathless, due to his ministrations. You lift your head and turn over your shoulder again. His lips are on yours in an instant, massaging yours again. Your teeth are clanking in the messy kiss but neither of you care. He swallows all your moans with his mouth, and you do all the same with his. The kiss is romantic in a sense, a silent apology from both of you. Neither of you could pretend anymore, you both needed this desperately.
You feel the coil in your belly building again. He's able to tell when you get whinier. It's always been your thing before you cum. Pulling away, he's fucking you even deeper, desperate to make you cum as hard as he can. Your hand haphazardly falls back to the floor, bracing yourself for the force that's bound to cum with his harsh thrusts.
His arm around your waist moves to play with your clit. He's roughly rolling the bud between his fingers, not caring about the mass stimulation he's providing you. Your body begins to tremble in his grasp as you near your orgasm. You don't have enough time to warn him about your orgasm, being taken aback by it yourself.
His head falls against your back as he feels your cunt clench around him with a vice grip. Your walls desperately try to push him out, but he stays deep in your pussy. As he feels your cunt stop clenching, he's immediately back to hammering away at your insides. Now that you've cum twice, he's selfishly chasing his own orgasm.
All he can think about is breeding your cunt. You'll come home to him when he fucks a baby deep into you. He's sure of it.
" 'M gonna breed you, pump you full of babies. Do you want that, baby?"
Fucked stupid by his cock, you don't even think about your next words. All you can think about is feeling his cum deep in you again.
"Yes! 'Wanna make you a daddy, Toji. Please give me your cum."
As he promises to give you a baby, your cunt is clenching around him desperately, egging him on impossibly further. His eyes clench shut when he imagines you carrying his child. He groans thinking about how your tits will swell with milk. He can't wait to play with them then.
Groaning, he just needs one final push. "I'm gonna make you my pretty wife, pumped full of babies. You wanna be my wife, y/n?"
"Yes, 'wanna be your wife, 'wanna have all your babies, Daddy."
He groans, emptying his balls into your fertile cunt. His cock is twitching uncontrollably as he spills rope after rope into you, painting your walls white with cum. He can't help the loud groan that escapes his mouth at the feeling. Your cunt was simply too good. He pulls out, immediately pushing the cum that's escaped back into your cunt. He can't let any waste.
You drop to the floor in exhaustion. He follows soon, taking deep breaths as he calms down. He pulls your hand to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand lovingly. You roll over onto his chest, resting your leg over his exposed body. You mumble out a small "I'm sorry" hoping that it'll be enough to soothe his heart for the time being.
"The boss told me what's happening, told me I needed to stop killing people so much over you leaving. Please be safe until you come home, I seriously want to make you my wife. We miss you over on the Southside."
