pairing: sword swallower!suguru geto x electric lady!reader
summary: for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been with suguru, in and out of the circus and all over the world. after a night of performing, you come to a realization about suguru—something he’s known forever about you.
contents: nsfw, a bit of angst, resolving unresolved feelings, oral (f receiving), fingering, some stuff about sword swallowing and being electrocuted etc, 18+ mdni!!! wc: 4k
pepper’s note: this is my entry for @lemonswirlss circus freaks collab!!! big thank you to lemon for letting me be apart of this, it was so much fun! and big thank you to @xstars-alignedx for beta reading!!!
Suguru Geto is world-renowned.
He's not only talented, he is beautiful, he is a performer and an excellent one at that. The crowds he controls are nothing more than putty in his hands, being made to give the right amount of oohs and aahs whenever he wants them to. He has set records and broken them time and time again, the true beast of your act.
You are the beauty. Sure, you aren't as widely-known as your performance partner, but you are just as striking, just as capable of pulling wonder from the crowd. You are poised, peaceful and graceful in every grotesque act you put on. Though, nothing about what you do is peaceful.
You couldn't name a specific time when you found out your talents—just that it never hurt you in the way it was supposed to. As time went on, the voltage went up, the more you added to your acts; light bulbs, neon signs, gasoline to light things on fire. The people around you watched in wonder as you were effectively struck by lightning from a 100,000 volt coil. You did it all, adding more jeopardy to your life, and looked flawless while doing so.
That is how the electric lady came to be.
All of these things and more have been done by you thousands of times, right by Suguru's side. You've been in the circus together as long as you can remember, grown closer and rose to sideshow fame—all with him.
You are nervous tonight. Of course, pre-performance jitters are normal, but it's different tonight, like a severe nausea that you are close to succumbing to. The lights of the dressing room are turned low as you kneel over the metal bucket kept there for times like these, but nothing comes up, nothing happens. It is out of your character to be like this.
"Hey."
You practically jump away from the bucket as Suguru appears in your dressing room, as if trying to destroy evidence of a crime. You have no idea how long he's been standing there, holding his props, watching you in your bout of anxiety.
"Are you sick? Do I need to go tell Yaga you can't—"
"I'm fine," you interrupt him, standing all the way up and dusting off the skirt of your dress, "just nervous."
Another wave of sickness hits you when you look at Suguru in his attire, all leathery and rich, hair messily tied but still flattering. He looks like a knight wielding his swords, in all his glory with muscles and a beautiful face—God, does he look like that every night?
"We've got ten minutes, beauty," Suguru informs you, using the dumb stage name that's stuck to you over time, "let me lace you up. Come on."
As long as you can remember, it's been a tradition to let Suguru lace up your corset before showtime. It's a sweet show of his care for you, how much he wants you to look and feel your best before you go on stage together.
Suguru guides you over to the mirror, hands gentle on your waist, softly smoothing the fabric out towards the middle of your back. His fingers are intricate as he pulls the satin of your laces, shrinking your waist and pushing your bust up, up, up towards your chin. He ties the perfect bow, smooths over your waist again, and gives a small sigh.
"Ready?" Suguru asks, arm wrapping around your waist, sending another shock of nausea through you. His chin rests on your shoulder as he searches your face for an answer, and try as you might to hide it, he can always read you like a book.
"Ready as I can be," you reply with a forced smile, taking a deep breath through your nose and out your mouth. You stare at your reflection, Suguru latched around your waist, and try to build up your confidence before you're called onto stage.
Suguru always impresses his crowd. He captivates those around him, builds everyone up for him and for you. He's difficult to upstage, which is why he's always saved for the end of the show—even after hours of tricks and talent, he makes a striking conclusion to the night.
You watch from the side of the stage as he finishes up his act, hearing the screams of women who would catapult themselves at him if they had the chance. He makes a show of licking his blades up and down, lubricating them, putting graphic images in the minds of the crowd. Suguru tells the crowd they must count for him, number the iron blades that will slide down this throat.
Suguru bites the tip of the first blade, throws his head back, and lets the sword sliiide all the way down. The edges of the blade are forced down his esophagus, stretching out the walls, pressing up against his heart—the crowd cheers out a one. The second blade is placed right over the first, metal on metal scratching against one another as Suguru swallows it without a scratch. He waves his arms around, queuing the applause and oohs, and everyone in the room shouts out a two! Lastly, the third sword is placed over the other two, and instead of letting it safely slide down his throat, Suguru basically impales himself on the iron, shoving the blade down his esophagus.
Your stomach lurches at his grotesque display of talent, knowing how unsafe that could be. People in the audience scream and holler and woo—and eventually scream out the three! in unison. Suguru remains calm and collected, bends over and bows to the crowd, pulling more noise from them. You can see the arms of multiple women reaching out, aching for a taste of him, and you almost laugh to yourself as he pulls away from them and makes a performance of dislodging the swords from his throat.
Suguru continues to control the crowd, he smiles beautifully and bows, thanks everyone for being such an amazing audience and winks at a few women along the way. He begins to introduce you, who he demands everyone give a warm welcome to. You smile at him off stage and he returns it, bowing his head as he queues your walk onto stage, his own hands doing more clapping for you than everyone else combined.
Tonight is the time for your electric lady act. It's simple, but more dangerous than anything else among the performers, considering the sheer amount of electricity moving through your body. You straighten your back as you walk on stage, stepping with all the poise in the world, as if you float on air. You take your place next to the electric chair and wait for Suguru's whole spiel about what you're going to do.
"My wonderful partner here has some unusual talents—but you'll see the least vile today," Suguru begins walking over to the chair and grabbing the tube light out of the chest placed next to it. "She has a high tolerance for a lot of things, electricity being one of them, and this chair runs around 100,000 volts into the user."
Suguru flips the switch and turns the chair on, a harsh buzzing coming from the box beneath it. He grazes an end of the light over the surface of the chair, and it comes to life, flickering on, the bolt of electricity connecting the light and the chair.
"Now, if we add something flammable to the mix," Suguru steps away from the chair and switches the light out for a fire torch, "it'll light on fire, like so."
He sticks the torch on the seat of the chair and it ignites, and the crowd watches in awe of the flames. The torch is then passed on to you, the attention shifts, the chair is turned off, and all eyes go to where you're standing at the back of the stage.
Like always, you smile, keep your back straight, and gracefully bring the tip of the torch up to your tongue, extinguishing its flames in your mouth. The audience erupts once more, even with such a simple trick, and you bow your head in thanks.
Now is time for the chair. You mosey over to your throne like a queen, taking a seat and crossing your legs, letting Suguru set the rest of your act up for you. He douses the torches in gasoline, hands you your lightbulb, stands to the side of the chair and waits for your call.
You take a deep breath, your final one for the next few minutes, and give Suguru the go ahead.
The chair buzzes to life once more, as does the light bulb, an indicator that this is all real. Your eyes immediately roll back into your skull, your body fighting the electricity, the warmth of the volts crawling over your skin. Yet, your mind knows exactly what to do, find Suguru. Despite your eyelids twitching, you see him, make out all of his features, and you try to focus in on the torch he holds out towards you.
You are beginning to shake. Your arms are not moving how they usually do, they are stalling, your brain cannot make your arm lift your free hand, and your hand cannot lift your finger. The light bulb clatters to the floor, glass shattering upon impact, the audience gasping with worry. Through the fog of your mind, you save the production as best as you can.
A pink sliver of your tongue pokes out of your mouth, dangerously small, too close to your face for comfort. Suguru hesitates, but he knows he can't for too long—the timer on how much longer you can handle the electricity is running out. Against his better judgment, he takes both of the torches and sticks them to your tongue, two little bolts of electricity igniting them in one giant flame together.
He rushes to turn the chair off, looking at you all concerned, calling you insane without saying it outright, without allowing the crowd to see. And all you can do is give that apologetic smile to him, knowing you'll talk about it later. You don't have a choice in the matter.
The show must go on, anyways.
Gracefully, you lift from your seat, widening your smile for the crowd and taking the torches from a now riled-up Suguru. He steps back and lets you do your bits of swallowing fire and spitting it back out, watching from the back of the stage with darkening eyes. You take your bow and pull him to bow with you and thank everyone, quickly exiting the stage before he can stop you.
You are surprised when Suguru doesn't barge into your dressing room right after you. Even more so as you wait ten, twenty, thirty minutes—and he does not show up.
It's abnormal, to say the least; you spend every waking minute with the man. Before and after shows, in between each performance and on the bus travelling together. He's been by your side for years, your best friend in the whole world. A palm rests under your chin as you go lax in the arm chair in your dressing room.
No matter what, it's always Suguru, isn't it?
You're nauseous again, and your head feels weird, like you realized something you shouldn't have. Or maybe it's something that's always been there and come to light. A strong thrumming comes from your chest, heartbeat quickening, overcome with an unfamiliar emotion you'd never let yourself feel.
Your body moves before your mind can think to stop it.
Suguru always takes his time fraternizing with the fans after each show. It encourages people to keep showing up, to come back again and again to see him. He's particularly talented at talking and interacting with others, something that couldn't be said about his partner. You'd always told him that you envied his interpersonal skills.
"Can I take a picture?"
What?
"Huh?" Suguru accidentally slips up, eyes going a little wider when he realizes he's still around people. There's a girl in front of him—wide eyed and curious, waiting for an answer. She's pretty, he supposes, in the kind of way most everyone could agree on.
"A picture," she says, head cocking to the side, "can I take one? With you?"
"Oh, sure," Suguru agrees, taking a beat before fixing himself for the photo. He does his normal thing of wrapping a hand around her waist, pulling the girl in closer, and—in the spur of the moment—presses a chaste kiss to the girl's cheek. He's not sure why he does that.
The girl, however, perks up, smiling wider while she waits for her friend to capture the moment. She squeals after the flash goes off, turning to Suguru and mashing herself even closer.
"Thank you! I'm a huge fan, I've been following you for years," she admits, twinkling eyes looking up at him. Her own arm wraps around his back, keeping him in place.
"Really? Thank you so much, that means a lot," Suguru replies, trying to tone up his voice to sound more appreciative rather than channel the guilt beginning to settle in his stomach. "I'm sorry but—"
"You're so much more handsome up close," she continues her compliments, smoothing over the ends of his hair with her fingers. "Are you married? I've never seen you with a woman anywhere."
Suguru looks down at the girl, who is obviously trying her best to make a move on him. He wrestles with his mind, because, by all means, he should be indulging this girl. There should not be a second thought in his mind about talking her up, taking her home, even. He used to do this all the time—woo a crowd and choose a pretty girl to take back to his hotel or camper.
But, God, it feels so wrong now. Not when you are in his vicinity, or when he has the chance to go back to the hotel with you and bid you goodnight. He could walk you there, unlace your corset, give everything he has to you.
He comes back to Earth when he locks eyes with you, too. Across the large stage of the meet and greet, in the entry of the hallway back to the dressing rooms—you witness everything. He sees the tear rolling down your cheek before you understand that you're crying. He watches as you disappear from his line of sight, slipping through his fingers.
"Did you hear me? I asked if—"
"I'm sorry, I need to go," Suguru interrupts the girl, ripping himself from her side. He doesn't bid her a goodbye or a farewell, only the gush of air that follows him as he rushes away.
Things cannot end this way. As much as it's been Suguru for you, it's been you for Suguru. He's been awful, selfish in his previous ways, and you've stayed by his side, hiding your emotions in a locked box, far from his grasp. People call after him as he cuts through the bodies around him, focused on only one thing.
You feel like an idiot by the time you retreat to your dressing room. Cheeks wet with unnoticed tears, palms sweaty from all the nerves and emotions you've just felt. Maybe, it's not meant to be, because you know there isn't any room in either you nor Suguru for anything more than friends. Best friends, if you can remain so.
A loud clatter bursts through the room as your door slams open. You jump out of your skin, your first reaction being to wipe the salty tears that stain your cheeks, quickly turning to look at your performance partner. He closes the door behind him.
"Suguru," you breathe, chest hurting from the scare he'd given you, and from the pure sensitivity he causes to your heart, "what are you doing? You're supposed to be—"
Words die in your throat as he gains on you, closing the space between the two bodies in the room, warmth from his hands coming to cup your jaw.
He leans in, not another thought in his mind but you.
Now, your words are swallowed by him as he locks his lips with yours, keeping you pressed against him. You can't, you don't want to pull away—no, you allow him to take every bit of your breath into his mouth, messily swapping spit, your own hands coming up to his forearms. Not to drag him away, just to rest there, to feel the muscles beneath his skin growing stiff with how he holds you.
Nothing about the way he kisses you is soft; it's animalistic, almost, hot and heavy and filled with emotions that have been repressed for God knows how long. Suguru doesn't need to say a thing to get across how he feels, he lets his body do the talking. He lets his hands drag down to your shoulders, then behind you, one in between your shoulder blades, chests flesh to one another. The fingers of his other hand dip down to the bow of your corset, making quick work of unlacing the satin.
Your own hands move to wrap around his neck, allowing him to undo his work, lungs slowly filling with more air the looser the bustier becomes. He helps undress you without breaking the kiss once, unhooking the front of your corset and allowing it to fall to the floor. The garment is forgotten on the creaky boards of the floor as you and Suguru stumble backwards, towards the embroidered arm chair in the corner of your dressing room.
He forces you down into the chair and gets on his knees in front of you, slotting himself between your legs, leaning over to meet your lips once more. You card your fingers through his hair as it falls around your face, his hair tie barely putting in work to hold the dark strands back.
Suguru leans back for a moment to admire you. He just honors how you look beneath him, eyes glossed over, lips sticky and messy with lipstick, laying like an open book in front of him, giving him your all. You've never been so vulnerable with him before, despite how close the two of you are. Opening up has never come easy to you, even with Suguru, except for right now.
You feel his fingers sneaking under the hem of your skirt, slowly trailing towards your most intimate area, gripping into the pantyhose that separates him from what he wants. He rips it with reckless abandon, causing a surprised squeal to fall from your lips, quickly turned into a fit of giggling. He smiles at your amusement, relishing in the rare sound of your laughter, absolutely sick with love.
Suguru pulls your skirt to bunch around your thighs, noticing how your legs twitch, wanting to close and shield yourself from his gaze. A hand comes to the back of your knee and pushes it up, eyes trailing down your figure to the pretty pair of lace panties he'd only been able to see in his dreams.
"Pretty," he comments, boldly leaning down to place a sweet kiss right over your covered cunt. He can feel the aching and wetness underneath his lips, how badly you want him to take them off, he finds it cute how easily your cunt pulses at something as small as a kiss. He gives a breathy chuckle at how jittery you're starting to get.
"Suguru, stop," you breathe, yet your breath hitches when Suguru takes his fingers and hooks them into the gusset of your panties, pulling them to the side and exposing the last part of you he hasn't been able to see. He holds off on eye contact, knowing how nervous it'd make you, but he admires your pussy as if it's the most precious painting in the world.
Your chest heaves, anticipating his next move and overthinking about what he's thinking. Truth is, Suguru's seen a lot of women like this—vulnerable and spread out for him—but you're his favorite by a long shot. He wants to experience every part of you. He can only hope that you'll let him.
His thumb strokes the back of the knee he's holding, eyes watching your body like a hawk, and goes in to lick a stripe up your cunt. A small gasp leaves you at the feeling of his tongue on you, legs threatening to shut when he circles around your sensitive clit, making your mind go a bit fuzzy. It's a foreign feeling, almost—you've barely been with anyone in a sexual context, and those people weren't near as attentive as Suguru's already been.
He closes his lips around the swollen bud, beginning to suck lightly all the while moving the tip of his tongue around. It's embarrassing how quickly he's riled you up, even more so how he went from teasing your clit to now full-on making out with it. He enjoys how wet he's made you, it inflates his ego a bit knowing that he did that to the most closed off person he knows.
The fingers that were once holding your panties come to prod at your hole, the tip of his index barely poking inside to test the waters. Suguru moans around your clit at how tight you are, feeling your walls squeeze around his fingers as he starts to go deeper. It doesn't take long for him to pop two fingers inside and begin searching for that sweet, sweet spot inside, continuing his overbearing assault on your clit.
You're holding back from touching Suguru, knuckles wrapped tightly around the arms of the chair, holding on for dear life because it's all too good. So badly do you want to reach down and run your fingers through his hair, or touch the veins on the back of his hand, feel his pulse rise as he gets more aggressive towards your heat—but the thought is cut short by your own self doubt.
All of a sudden, Suguru hits a spot inside of you, knocking a screech from your throat. Your hand slaps over your mouth, trying to silence your noises, and Suguru only grins against your pussy and tries to find it again. Soon, your legs are quivering around his frame, feeling that tight knot in your abdomen that only gets worse the longer Suguru goes.
Your orgasm shocks you, head thrown back and mouth open beneath your hand, unraveling under Suguru's mouth. He works you through it, gradually slowing down his movements until they dissipate into nothing. He's careful about removing his fingers and his mouth, moving to place kisses along the insides of your legs as you come down.
He trails back up your shaking thighs, soft kisses meeting soft flesh, tender and caring—only what you deserve from him. Your chest rises and falls quickly, looking down at Suguru, watching how delicately he treats you. He's the contrast for what you put yourself through.
Suguru smiles as your knee quivers next to his head, fingertips running over the outside of your legs, soothing your nerves. There was nothing to be scared about with him.
"Why'd you use your tongue earlier? During the act," Suguru asks, voice low and sweet, pulling the edge of your skirt back down to give you a bit of dignity back. "You know I don't like putting the fire so close to your face."
"I don't know," you admit, fingers meeting his as he continues his strokes on the exposed bit of your thigh. "I think I need to take a break." You intertwine your hands together, no longer afraid of touching him, of being with him.
"We can leave," Suguru offers, head resting against your leg, "run away from the circus if you'd like."
You nod your head in agreement, knowing you'd run anywhere if Suguru was by your side.
𝜗❀𝜚 mdni. porn with plot. chasity cage. oral sex (f! receiving). gojo cameo.
“Have you come to repent your sins?”
No, you came to cum.
You squirmed in your confessional seat, glancing through the thin grate separating you from your priest, fiddling with the fancy fabric of your dress as you swallowed the lump in your throat.
“I wanted to see you,” you murmured, thighs pressing together as you tried to untangle the treacherous desire coiling around your heart.
Waiting for him to reply with bated breath, fingers trembling as you tried to picture the expression on his face.
Would he blush? Bite down on the inside of his cheek as his dark brows pinched together in disappointment you hadn’t even made it a full day before returning to him?
You heard the creak of the other confessional door swinging open, your pulse pounding in your ears as hope bloomed in your chest - and heat pooled in your core.
Was it wrong to want your priest?
To dream about the low rumble of his voice when he whispered your name or the way his soft hands felt on your face?
Truly, it wasn’t your fault he ensnared your soul - even if he had sworn to save it.
All it had taken was for you to get caught in a semi-compromising position with one of your knights for your family to panic of your virtue.
What good was a princess they couldn’t profit off of? One that might screw up the political alliance they planned on by selling you off to another snobby royal or noble?
Your parents had decided that your promiscuity was a problem only a priest could fix.
Who, in turn, came up with a solution that only made that you so much worse.
Being confined in a chastity cage was supposed to be a lesson. To teach you to not crave the pleasure of the flesh and prevent you from committing a cardinal sin.
Perhaps it would have worked if the only man who had the key didn’t have a proclivity for pleasure himself.
“Don't you have duties to attend to?" Choso dryly asked as he shut himself in with you, nose scrunching up as he scrutinized you, the marking across it standing bold even in the dim shadows of the booth.
"I was in dire need of your guidance," you lied, a little sin you were sure he'd make sure you asked forgiveness for later.
He clicked his tongue twice as he looked down at you, serious stare searing through you as he shook his head.
“Please help me,” you pouted, pushing out your bottom lip and clasping your hands together like you were ready to pray. "You're the only one who can."
He slipped underneath your skirts, big hands drifting over your legs before running across the cool metal of the cage he'd been keeping you all locked up in.
It had been humiliating at first, your face flushing when he showed you that it still allowed you to use the bathroom, that its sole purpose was to prevent anyone else from using you. But after a number of frustrating nights and even more numerous days of returning to his confessional to complain, he proposed a solution to solve your problem - and maybe scratch an itch of your own.
His tongue diving inside you didn't count as sex, right?
The key clicked in the lock.
And freedom felt a lot like his breath on your freshly exposed skin and his fingers sinking into your soft thighs.
"You'll send us both to Hell," he murmured, gravel stuck in his throat before his mouth latched onto your clit and feverishly sucked.
You wouldn't mind going if it was with him.
An afterlife spent squeezing his head between your thighs actually sounded perfect. His tongue swirling lazily around your pussy, drawing soft moans he had to keep shushing, your fingers itching to rake through his dark hair as you threw your head back and bit your lip to stifle your sounds.
A man like him had promised himself to his gods.
He wasn't supposed to marry or even make love.
You supposed you were really just his loophole.
And judging by the way he grunted and groaned as his tongue dragged across your walls, swimming around in the taste of you, you knew no matter how many times he tried to tell himself he was simply serving you, he never failed to finish too.
Thumb dimpling your flesh, his nose nudging so perfectly against the sensitive bud above your entrance, the warmth in your chest making your head feel all fuzzy as you bucked your hips up to drive his tongue further.
You were going to get what you came here for.
On the brink, so close you could practically taste your release yourself, letting out a barely audible whimper of his name as you pressed down on his head through your dress and-
"Well, what do we have here?" An annoyingly familiar voice called out, your eyes snapping open as you found the knight who used to warm your bed leaning again the now-open door.
"L-leave now," you stuttered, the priest between your thighs refusing to stop eating you out even after you'd been caught. His grip only tightened, his tongue forcing its way even deeper as you struggled not to squeak.
"Nah," he smirked, blue eyes glittering with amusement as he chuckled. "I wanna join."
'Till death do us part, hah,' your number one top fan! Satoru Gojo can't help but stroke his thick, veiny cock as he recites those vows he'll have for you soon, blushed tip just dripping all that milky pre cum drippin' from that little hole on the head.
Oh, he'd say them very, very fucking soon indeed.
You, the pretty OF star on his screen, bent over and giggling right at him, he swears it. You're surely not looking at any of these other losers' names, no, you must be looking at his.
'Gonna f-fuck...' Satoru's stroking his cock faster, whimpering out as you glide that dildo he bought you in and out of your pretty little cunt, stretching it out and whining as you take it.
Well, it was a direct replica of his cock, so of course you couldn't stuff it all. But don't worry - when Satoru gets you finally, and he folds you in a mating press, fingers pressed into the backs of your thighs? Oh, he'll have you take all of him.
'Till I can see my print inside,' he's chuckling again, lost as he takes some of that messy pre and licks it, moaning and gliding it across his lips. He's fucking his fist in time to your sad attempts at fucking yourself with his veiny replica, he can't help but smirk, using one hand to type.
Having trouble takin' cock, sweetheart?
Well you are indeed, you've never had something so big and long trying to fit inside you - in fact, this was the first time you've used more than a cute little plug or a wand on your pussy on cam. Yet, when it's from your top fan, you can't help but want to show off for him.
Your puffy lips are pathetically trying to fit around it, no matter how wet you are, you can't even get half - the tips are just rolling in, but none like him - like DigiMaster89.
truly -what a fucking name. Yet you know that he loves when you spread wide, and you truly want to be a good girl for him.
Even if you don't even know what he looks like, you'd love to make him proud, taking more and more of that cock and shaking, thighs trembling as your cunt is spasming, begging for a little reprieve with how full you're stuffed.
'Ngh!' You're crying out now, as Satoru leans forward, remembering his vows.
he got distracted.
'Oh, where was I?' he caresses the screen, before spitting down his cock again, letting it slip to the base. 'Ah, I remember. To fucking cherish that slutty lil' cunt. Ah, baby I solemnly swear and all that sh-shit....'
White locks fall across a brow as you squirt all over for the first time on camera, clear fluids just gushing out, just in time for his white to squirt right on the screen, right against his future wife, some of it even smattering against his glasses. He can't help but whimper out your name, hand just trembling, taking his glasses off to lap a bit of his sticky mess.
God, imagine when you're squirting all over his glasses?
Satoru can't wait to finally have you all to himself, don't you know you're already his future fucking wife?
satoru gojo eats you out until he falls asleep / 0.3k
cw: 18+ mdni gojo is pussy-drunk, oral (f!reader receiving), no use of y/n, fluff
m.list
he’s nestled between your legs, his head slightly resting on your thigh, tongue swirling over your swollen clit. he’s been at this for god knows how long already—licking and suckling on your clit like it was his lifeline.
you were exhausted from the many orgasms he managed to pull from you.
“just one more, baby,” he pleaded, voice low and a little wrecked, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of your thighs. “can you do that for me?"
you nodded, and his lips closed around your clit. you moaned breathlessly, back arching slightly off his bed. you dared a glance down at him and your cunt clenched around nothing.
the sight of him alone almost sent you barreling over the edge. his cheeks were glistening with your slick, white hair completely tousled and messy from how hard you’d been pulling on it, those brilliant blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded, lashes fluttering like he was fighting sleep just to keep tasting you.
“satoru,” you whine, reaching down to grab his hand. he takes hold of it immediately, giving you a gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
his eyes slip shut as he loses himself in the taste of you. lips still working against your clit, slow and indulgent.
slower. slower. slower.
he’s barely tracing the tip of his tongue through your folds now, movements lazy and dreamy, those long white lashes resting against his flushed cheeks. his breathing has gone deep and even, warm puffs of air against your over-sensitive skin.
you were having an even harder time keeping your own eyes open, but you couldn’t fight it off any longer. you fell asleep with satoru sound asleep against the plush of your thighs, his tongue still pressed soft and warm to your clit, his hand still entwined with yours.
The clock is striking midnight, but you find yourself in the arms of none other than the most eligible man in the nation - Prince Gojo. Teaching you how to dance and then sneaking a kiss, it's almost enough to make you forget who you really are. When reality comes crashing and all Satoru is left with is a pretty earring that fell on those steps, can he ever find the girl in the mask?
pairings - prince! gojo x cinderella! reader
warnings- first time kisses, literally a fairy tale, love at first sight, fingering, no sex bc our man is making us wait for the wedding. Fluffier than any of my usual and maybe my sweetest Gojo <3 - 5.2k wc
This is part of @jazzthatonewriterchick's ain't no fairytale event! congrats on your following, and TYSM for inviting me! <3
yummy ass prince gojo art is by my bb @levitonin plz go follow them on x and here they're insanely talentedd!
You step into the elegant ballroom as you clutch your gown in your hands, the delicate material crimping in your tight grip. It's scandalous for you to be here - the illegitimate daughter of a high lord, the stepsister to the real ladies.
Are you an imposter? Are you a dreamer? The questions swirl in your mind as you peer up at the pretty chandelier dangling above the room, casting its soft glow upon everyone swirling over the marble floor in pretty pirouettes.
That's when you lay eyes on him - Prince Gojo, it's the official season where he will indeed be looking for a match, and every girl along with every hungry mama is after him. Partly he seems fine with the attention, grinning and laughing, winking so that girls had to fan themselves
Yet, another part?
He seems almost as out of place as you once the flock is off, waiting for their number on their dance card, leaning back against the wall and talking to his advisor. It was known that Prince Gojo would soon enough be King, and with that must come many duties.
You can't help but find yourself lost in his pretty features, almost otherworldly, especially when his eyes catch yours from across that ballroom, drifting across your face and neck with enough intensity to make you blush underneath your glittery mask. You quickly turn and rush outside to grab some sort of air when he starts to near you, your heart racing in your chest.
"Wait up," you hear his voice then - perhaps it makes the man all the more attractive, deep and husky, hitting your core and making you feel flustered. "Are you alright?"
You turn slowly, the moonlight is glittering on his pale skin, making him look much like the statues in this very garden, clutching your gown tighter. "I... I just needed some air, Your Highness.
His lips curl into this devastating smile, but it's softer than any royal should be, as he drinks you in, pretty blues in a myriad of shades assessing you carefully. "The ballroom can be overwhelming, can't it?”
"It can indeed…”
Your heart hammers in your chest as he takes another step closer, the scent of bergemot and something distinct to him filling your senses. You've hardly been around a man aside from the servants who have befriended you, and you certainly weren't in such proximity as this, almost stumbling off the stone steps when he catches you.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, your highness!"
"Careful, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, brushing over you with his voice, lilting as the wind catches it, his long fingers taking your wrist over. He's so very tall anyone would feel small compared to him, but he's..
He's sweet.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before," he says softly, taking in the beautiful glimmering blue gown, it was not in 'season' or 'fashion' so to speak, moreso something that was left in one of his mother's wardrobes, but it fit you perfectly. "I think I'd remember such a meeting. What’s your name?”
Your name.
You can’t tell him – what if it got back you snuck away from your stepmother? She’d have you sweeping that damn chimney for the rest of your existence.
Your pulse rushes in your ears, stepping just a little closer, knowing you're probably terrible at pretending to really be nobility, or any sort of lady, feeling the heat of his palm through your satin gloves. "I'm... um, just a guest."
"Every guest has a name," he says, his gaze drifting down to the little chain on your neck curiously, his hand falling off. "Tell me, what brings someone so lovely to hide in the gardens rather than dance?"
"I'm afraid I cannot dance," Satoru blinks curiously, the way the moonlight hits your face and bounces off that silver mask has him almost blushing, the rise and fall of your chest in that snug corset, your own faint blush heating up your skin - out of every girl tonight, you're just...
Different.
"Cannot dance? Nonsense," he smirks and holds out a hand now, tilting his head. "I'll teach you."
"N-no! I'm utterly unteachable... I... oh!" Satoru tugged you in his arms, and you fell against his hard chest, a hand on that elegant blue uniform he's wearing. "Prince Gojo..."
"Call me Satoru."
“Oh I could not ever,” you are panicking being this close to him, his heat, his hard chest so strong as you stumble and damn near trip over your feet. “I’m stepping all over you!”
“It’s fine,” you could literally walk on Satoru and he’d just thank you, with those pretty glass slippers that click gently as you move. He picks you up and grins as you gasp out. “I’ve got you.”
“You cannot just…” he’s lifted you off the ground now so that your feet are on his, moving and guiding you with a little chuckle. “I’ll hurt your feet!”
“Nah, I’m fine,” he’s more than fine – Satoru thinks he’s fucking in love at first sight.
The nonsense of fairytales, but how else does he explain how perfect your corseted waist feels in his arms? How you’re looking at him and making him melt? Satoru’s in love with a girl and he doesn’t even know her name. Perhaps it’s the champagne and how pretty you are, perhaps his advisor Suguru was right and Satoru was a dreamer.
Yet you’re like a dream waltzing rather clumsily on his feet.
He finally manages to speak, to act like any of this is normal, his lips quirking up at the corner. "You're a natural, see?"
"I'm just standing on your feet!” You’re giggling though, the sound and your smile making him ache. He can only wonder how beautiful you were without half of your face covered, even more pretty than those eyes and those lips?
Yet it’s more, something about you drawing him in, he tightens his hold on you, your body pressed to his, clearing his throat as he tries to focus.
Tonight was supposed to be ‘the end’ so to speak – find a boring, perfect debutante for his bride, he had been dreading it for months, yet all he can think of right now is how much he is enjoying being in this garden with you.
"Details."
“No? Actual facts?”
“Semantics, sweetheart,” you laugh again, shaking your head.
“You’re nothing like I’d think a Prince to be.”
“Is that good or bad?” He asks, stopping his movements and easing you off his feet, not releasing you, no, he’s got you firm against him still. The music from the ballroom is fading, just a little hazy in both of your ears, intermingling with his soft chuckle and your little pleased sigh.
“It’s good, very good,” you can’t say it – that you are so wary of nobility because of your step mother, because you’re hidden merely because your mother was a mistress rather than a wife. “You’re just… different.”
“I could say that about you,” his lashes lowered just a bit, hand on the small of your back sliding up where it’s bare, ever so scandalously. "I think we've earned a break from the lesson, yes?”
You manage a little nod, swallowing nervously as Satoru’s silk gloved hand slides from your back to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling gently in the hair that’s coiffed and pinned. He tilts your head back gently, having you meet his gaze, your own hands sliding to his chest, hidden by the alcove so that you’re just out of sight.
If you’re going to have one night of freedom, shouldn’t it be a good one?
How can you think like this!
"You're blushing again," he murmurs, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Even your ears are warm. Is it the dancing, or is it me?"
You can't form a coherent thought, let alone any sort of words for an answer, just looking up at him and wetting your lips nervously, tongue slipping over the plump of your lower one.
“Asked you a question, princess.”
“Oh I’m so far from that,” you whisper, he chuckles as he thinks to himself how your hips would give him perfect heirs, how he’d love those lips to be glossy from his saliva rather than anything else.
“Every girl here wants to be the next princess,” he says, nose brushing yours as he bends down. “Not you, though.”
“Not me…”
Gong. Gong. Gong.
“Oh!” You look at the giant clock ticking overhead, enormous and pristine, loudly echoing in your ears. “It’s almost midnight. I should… go.”
“A curfew?” He asks, even more curious, nobles party until well into the morning, but you’re leaning up now, hugging him around his neck, making him falter.
“Thank you for tonight, Satoru,” god how your name sounds on his lips, pressing a kiss on his cheek and pausing, a breath away from the corner of his mouth. He tilts your chin up, studying you carefully.
“Running away already?”
“I must soon…” You trail off and look right at his lips, sighing. “Perhaps one minute more.”
“May I kiss you, before you disappear?” He asks then, you nod quickly, seeing the lashes casting shadows on his high cheeks as he bends down, closing the distance and capturing your lips.
The first press of his lips is impossibly soft, a tentative movement that he pulls back from quickly, exhaling, the breath ghosting over your mouth, grip tightening as he paints soft kisses against them. You whine out before you can stop yourself, making him moan and pause for just a moment.
“Oh I’ve… never kissed…”
“I’m your first kiss?” He asks softly, you nod and tug him down again, making him chuckle. “Did you like it, princess?”
“I do very much,” he kisses you again, his tongue slipping on the seam of your lips as if it’s seeking entry, tasting of champagne and something sweet – scones, you think, the mixture hypnotic somehow.
Your first kiss is with Prince Gojo.
You both stumble a bit until you fall onto him in the gardens, he lands on his back with a soft thud on the grass. You’re gasping as you lose your balance, Satoru chuckles as he catches you on his body, holding you tightly, lips pulled into a full grin that makes him look even more handsome.
“Hmm, I’d like to see you without this mask.”
“Sir you’re very bold,” he raises a brow, hands on your hips – god imagine kissing you between your thighs, holding them firm?
“Says the lady on my lap.”
“Oh, you’re a tease!” You lean up and his eyes are glittering , leaning up on his elbows and nuzzling your nose with his. “Mngh…”
“The sounds you make,” he whispers, you’re straddling him with your skirts strewn all across you, heat pressing on his length, you probably don’t even know what it is but you grind on it, making him hiss. “Just from a kiss, I wonder how you’d sound if I kissed you here.”
His lips press on the rushing pulse behind your ear, you’re rolling those hips once more, fingers entangled in his silky locks, his breath sending trembles across you, the whine that escapes your lips almost makes him lose it.
“Fuck…”
“Oh dear, I’m so-”
“Don’t move, god,” he moans and grips you rougher than he meant to, arching up as he kisses up the side of your neck, lips drifting over your frantic, racing little pulse, your nails press into his shoulders, holding still as his breath ghosts your collarbone, fingertips brushing across your neckline.
“It feels so good,” you can’t help but move again, making him suck in a breath, kissing you deeper, your arms wrapping his neck as your tongue slips in and out of his mouth, exhaling as you move with him, feeling this need building inside that has you hot, dizzy. “Satoru…”
“Don’t leave,” he whispers, lips glossy from your kisses, sighing and cupping your face gently. “Stay. I’ll tell your chaperones.”
Chaperones.
As if you had those.
“I cannot…”
“We will pause,” he says, barely holding onto his last thread, eyes looking up at the pretty masked girl sitting on his lap, sitting up fully and studying you carefully. “I must know more about you, anything… especially your name-”
Gong Gong Gong.
“I’m so sorry,” you stumble off his lap, questioning yourself then – hearing your stepmother and stepsisters in your head making fun of you.
As if you fit in?
Tonight was an insane idea, one your fellow servants had for you, these glittery slippers and your mother’s old gown weighing heavy as you stand, almost stumbling as your heel digs into the earth. The Prince stands with you, steadying you with a hand on your upper arm, his lips parted.
“There’s nothing interesting about me,” you whisper, tears slipping and glimmering in your eyes.
“I find that impossible to believe.”
You smile, lips trembling, before kissing his cheek, your own lashes closing, sticky droplets of tears falling from them. You murmur your name for his ears, before rushing away, holding onto your dress as you ascend the narrow steps towards the ballroom, hearing him call it out.
“Don’t go! Please, just…” You turn and he can’t see your face then, not with the lighting of the ballroom as your background, casting a shadow of your figure.
“Thank you, my Prince,” you turn once more, Satoru rushes up the stairs then, pausing when he sees a glinting bauble on the step by his dress shoe. He picks it up, studying it carefully, his gaze flickering to where you’ve completely disappeared.
Your name was not familiar, it was not a family he’d ever heard of, a name he’d ever heard either.
Just who were you?
*****
“Hurry, miss, hurry!” Your fellow servants are rushing to undress you from the big gown as your carriage, rickety and loud, has made it just before your step family.
“Turn!” You do just that and let them unlace the back of it in quick little motions, the fellow women studying you once they put back on your maid attire.
“Miss, did you…”
“I um…” You’re blushing now, giggling as if you’re intoxicated from that sip of champagne, nodding.
“You kissed!” You shush one of them, even though the three of you are breathlessly laughing. “Tell us, tell us!”
“He was so handsome, so sweet,” you sigh, all dreamy, looking in the mirror and smoothing your apron down your front, touching your ear then. “Oh dear, I lost one of mama’s earrings!”
“She would have wanted you to have fun,” you get emotional then, as they fix up your hair – they still take care of you when they can, remembering how things were before your father remarried, when you were the lady of the house despite the mother you had not being ‘nobility’.
Your mother – all you have is a little photo of her in a locket.
“Was she kind, mama? Would she…” You swallow just a bit. “Like me?”
“Of course she would, miss,” they turn to you then, trying to cheer you up. “Who kissed the lipstain off.”
You blush furiously, before leaning over to whisper. “A prince.”
“A prince!?”
“Shh!” You hear it then, the hooves of the horses on the cobblestone path, turning your head to peer right back at the noise, the one earring you have left firmly in your palm. “We must act normal… but…”
“But?” You turn to them and your eyes well up with emotions, taking each of their hands.
“It was the best night of my life.”
*****
“This earring,” Satoru smiles days later as he has tea across from several young ladies – four daughters in one family, all matching your height and some of your features. He assesses them carefully, searching for any sign of you – since the name you gave him existed in no public records.
Where was the masked girl with the one earring?
“It’s mine!” One girl exclaims, giggling and standing. “It must be mine, your highness.”
“Ah, I see,” he stands and walks over, peering into her eyes, hoping for anything to click like it did before – it had been dark out, was he mistaking this? Was it really you? “Where’s the matching?”
She falters then, and her sisters are laughing at her. “I um… your highness, as it were… I do not…”
“I see…” He finishes his tea and bows at the giggling ladies, smiling all charming like he’s not losing his mind. “Farewell, for now, dear ladies.”
He’s furious when he slams the carriage door, his advisor Suguru looking up from the ledgers he’s balancing while waiting for the prince. His dark eyes take Satoru in carefully. “You look like shit.”
“Aw thanks, Suguru,” he snorts and Satoru climbs in across from him, earring flipped over and over in his palm. “That’s every woman her height and hair color aside from one house – out of twenty nearly. And nothing.”
“What was it about her?” Suguru asks. “To make you announce you’re looking for a bride and all? It’s so unlike you.”
“I can’t tell you it’s…” Satoru touches his lip thoughtfully, spreading those long legs in the carriage bench, the plush velvet brushing his elegant tailcoat as it begins to rock towards the last stop. “It’s everything about her.”
“Is the prince in love at first sight?” Suguru is teasing, but when he sees Satoru’s glare he pauses. “Oh fuck… it is?”
“I don’t know what else this is, this feeling in my heart,” he clutches it over his dress shirt, staring out the pretty countryside view as they start to move towards the last hope. “I can’t describe it at all, but I must have her, I must know her… I cannot even think of another woman when she exists in this world.”
Suguru is quiet then.
“Who knew the rakish prince would fall so in love so quickly?”
“Shut it,” Suguru’s serious then, pulling up the information on the last house and studying it. “Who are they?”
“A widow and her two step daughters… some servants live there as well, but of course they wouldn’t be the ones you met. Maybe one of them is it?”
“We shall see…”
“Satoru?” He raises a brow. “If you don’t find her, what will you do?”
He laughs a bit, leaning his head back and throwing a forearm over his face, sinking against the seat and descending himself into darkness, picturing you so clearly. Running away from him even in his dreams, like he can never actually capture you.
“I don’t know if I can ever look at someone like that again.”
It’s quiet then.
“Well, I hope you’ll find her.”
*****
“The prince is coming!” Your stepmother rushes up to you and yanks your hair, making you cry out. “Make yourself good, girl! Now! Tea, chop chop!”
“Ouch,” you whine out when she smacks your cheek. “S-sorry…”
“Do not talk back!”
“I was not-”
“She’s become such a nuisance,” one of your sisters complains, donned in an obscenely gaudy pink gown, jeweled slippers that you’d worn that night, you pale when you see them.
“Those were my mother’s! You can’t have them!”
“Those were my mothers!” She’s mocking you, making hot tears prick the back of your eyes. “The prince is coming for me, you’ll let me wear them, you nor your mother was never worthy of such luxury.”
You almost smack her, knowing it’s a death sentence or at least a prison sentence to do so, feeling sick as the three women laugh.
“No, he’s coming for me!” Your other stepsister is wearing bright yellow, donned with the hairclip your mother left. “I couldn’t find those earrings of yours!”
“Why are you in my things when you have everything!?” They laugh again at your pain, your tears, always cruel without reason.
Why did you even go, why did you glimpse happiness when they were your reality?
“He’s here, shh!” Your stepmother and siblings stand in front of you now, blocking the view of the Prince being greeted, his dress shoes clicking on the hardwood beneath him. Your heart hammers in your chest as you stand there with your head down, your family making a spectacle of themselves.
“Your highness! Indeed, what an honor,” your mother is putting on the charm, but Satoru’s eyes are on you, a frown on his lips. “What do we owe the great pleasure of your visit?”
He sees the mark on the pretty servant’s cheek and glares at the woman now, the matriarch of the family scowling at you. “Please forgive us, we will leave her and retire to the-”
“You hit your help?” He asks, fists clenching underneath those white satin gloves, she blinks in confusion.
“Well, of course I do. She is quite-”
“You hit your fucking help, really?”
“Is it against any law, your highness?” She asks, raising a brow, Satoru grimaces in disgust, walking up to you, earning the caught breath of every servant, and the anger of your ‘family’.
“No it’s not, yet the thought of treating others like that disgusts me,” he peers down at you, tilting your chin up right in front of the room, your heart hammers so violently in your chest you feel dizzy. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Fuck.
Your knees go weak, the sudden sting of your cheek fading into nothing, not when he’s looking at you that way, you can hardly hold in your words – Satoru, it’s me.
You cannot let him know you impersonated a noble, he’s just being… kind, surely.
“I am fine, your highness,” your voice puts it all together for him then, and in that moment the world shrinks – to just you and Satoru Gojo.
Not just a prince, but the boy you kissed in those gardens.
“Is this yours?” He asks quietly, taking the earring out and watching your expression, hearing their huffs of anger.
“You snuck into the ball!? You little tramp!” Your stepsister shouts, stomping on over when Satoru holds up a hand, halting her in her steps, watching as you tug the other earring out of your little reticule, a trembling hand being touched by his.
“You will be executed for such a travesty!” Your mother says, but Satoru scoffs, simply sliding the hook of the earring through the little spot they were pierced when you were just a little babe. He takes the other but not before studying your hand, covered in callouses, rubbed raw from scrubbing.
“Do not look, please,” you whisper, embarrassed that he has to see them – the nails nonexistent, the skin dry and cracking. He takes off his own glove and sets the other earring on, before he touches your hand, taking it and flipping it over, studying it carefully. “Please…”
“You shall never work these hands like this again,” you gasp at that, letting him take both of them in his own, the touch and warmth of his skin making you dizzy. “I promise you that you won’t…”
He says your name, softly then, smiling all bright as you break out into tears, holding you against him. “Prince Satoru…”
“God I looked all over for you,” he whispers, hand on the small of your back, your clothes are so old they’re falling apart, you seem almost frail to him like this, weak and worn down, not the happy girl he met.
Yet he knows it then, surely.
He did fall in love at first sight.
“What do you think about becoming my princess?”
“I could never! I…”
“Come,” he picks you up like it’s nothing, carrying you right out of there, you cling to his neck as he cradles you and your stepmother rushes up.
“Surely I will get some compensation!” Your stepmother earns Satoru’s disgust as he looks upon her. “She was my late husband’s illegitimate offspring, I took her in when I did not have to! Fed her, clothed her, gave her shelter.”
“You did a fucking horrible job of all of it, if you ever loved your husband, how could you do this? This is why I hate nobility like you,” he clutches you tightly, feeling your face bury against his neck. “I’ll compensate you plenty to leave my kingdom, all of you, forever. Handsomely in fact. But you’ll never go near her again.”
“Satoru, you don’t have to!” You’re whispering, trembling in fear, but he ignores it all, shaking his head.
“I will make sure you have a nicer home than this, and dowries,” your stepmother quickly agrees, and that’s the last time you see her, or your stepsisters again. “Let us go visit your new home.”
*****
“They called you that, because you sat by the fireplace too much?” Satoru asks you softly weeks later, you all were having dinner but you’ve stayed in your own wing of his castle, he’s making sure that everything is properly done – the wedding a few more weeks away.
“They did,” you admit, holding his hand and blushing as he leans forward, studying it. “It’s still rough, Satoru.”
“That’s quite alright,” he kisses your knuckles then, his lips curving up in a sad smile. “I shall make sure that you never lift a pretty finger.”
“Nonsense!”
“No, you must stop helping clean and cook, too,” you shake your head, earning his smile widening. “Are you not listening to your prince?”
“Old habits die hard, at least let me bake with them! What else shall I do all day long!?”
“You’re a bratty girl,” you giggle, shaking your head and standing, walking over as he tugs you on his lap, sitting sideways, his fingers trailing across your knee, sliding that robe apart. “Very bratty.”
“Me, no indeed,” you are aching to do more, but Satoru has been very gentlemanly – so much in fact you find yourself moving on his lap in such a way that has his lashes fluttering closed. “Are you all right, my prince?”
“You’re killing me, perhaps you’re an evil girl after all,” your smile ruins him, along with the way goosebumps rise up your thigh. “Trying to tempt me before the marriage, hmm? No, no, we do it all properly – you’re my bride to be.”
“I can wait, I suppose,” your fingertips trail across his cheek, laughing softly then at his blush that dances across them. “Can you wait?”
“Indeed I have my methods,” jerking off to you every night after kissing you in front of your bedroom door. “Can you, pretty girl?”
“No,” you’re honest then, gasping as his fingers dart higher, your thighs spreading slightly as if on instinct. “Satoru…”
“Such an impatient girl, tsk,” he glides them higher until they find your cunt bare, already slick underneath the satin of your robes, feeling you shift and cry out in the way only you can. “Shall I have you cum all over my fingers, then? Give you just a taste of what I’ll do to you when you’re fully mine?”
“Oh, mngh y-you… please…” He kisses you as his fingers find your slit, gliding up and down and feeling that wetness just pour, moaning at the feeling, you’re damn near slippery with a gentle touch at your entrance, your tongue moving against his with much more precision than the first kiss.
“Please what, princess? Make you feel good?” Your nod is jerky, your nails pressing into his forearm and feeling it tense as he slides a finger in – making your eyes roll back in your skull. “You’re doing such a good job, look at you.”
“Am I? It’s so thick and… Satoru,” he’s curving one finger just so in your snug little hole, squishing so loud it fills your ears, mixing with his kisses on your collarbone, his nose brushing your skin. “Please!”
“Mhm, take a pretty tit out for me,” he orders softly, in the way only Prince Satoru can, you tug it down and blush when he sees your tit for the first time. “Oh god but you’re s’fuckin beautiful.”
Your answer is to arch your back, your head falling so that your hair cascades across his arm that’s wrapping you, his finger working as that mouth wraps a nipple and sucks. It is too much, the way he sucks, the way his finger moves faster, until you’re about to shatter, to fall apart right for him, his finger hitting that spot that has your vision getting fuzzy.
He moans around your nipple, tongue swirling it – his blue eyes looking up underneath those long white lashes at you, feeling your cunt stretch enough that he eases in a second.
“So full! I’m so… ah!” He pulls back from your nipple, his saliva dripping with strings dissolving from your tit, sighing and nuzzling your breast, kissing back up to your collarbone, his fingers making your cunt quiver. She clamps down as you get closer, feeling that pressure, the grinding of his fingers on that spot.
“You’re close, hmm?” He teases softly, smiling all proud of himself and fucking cute – he was proud he could make you feel good, that he could feel the way you’re reacting, see the pleasure on your face. “You’re so loud, your pussy is making such a mess, too.”
“You’re… I…” You feel it coming, overwhelming in its intensity then, stealing your breath as his fingers work faster, until you’re right there.
“That’s it, let go for me,” he whispers, pressing up on that spongy spot in your wall with his fingertips, massaging it as you shatter. “There you go, good little princess, cumming just for me.”
“Satoru, ngh!” You scream out obscenely, cunt squirting right down his hand and making a mess of his pants, of your silk robe, darkening the material as you fall apart in his arms, weak and almost falling on him. “S’good I… sensitive and… Satoru, I l-love you and…”
He pauses then, exhaling and kissing you deeply, easing his fingers out of the mess you are. “You love me, princess?”
You’re almost in tears. You feel so good, nodding quickly, watching as he sucks his long fingers, blushing furiously – your cunt is pulsing around nothing, seeing his cheeks hollow during the filthy little action. “You’re tasting me!”
“So sweet,” he mumbles, drunk off a lick, pulling back to see his fingers glossy and moaning at the sight, his eyes dark. “I can’t wait to really drink you.”
“Drink me?” He chuckles at how precious you are, tugging down your slip and holding you close, kissing your temple as you come down. “Satoru, that was so intense I just… I…”
“Are you all right? Too much?” He brushes your hair back, feeling your lips on his neck.
“Not enough.”
“Slutty princess,” you gasp and smack him when he chuckles, pulling back and cupping your chin, smiling at you. “I love you too.”
“You love me?”
“Of course I do, the moment I saw you in that garden,” you can’t stop the tears from falling, chest heaving as the aftershocks mix with your emotions. “Now don’t be so impatient, we have forever.”
You nod and kiss him again, and again, and again, until he carries you in his arms towards your bed. “I can’t wait to share the bed with you, my Prince.”
“Soon enough.” He lays you in it and kisses you, studying you carefully, brushing a lock of your hair back.
Satoru was only an eligible bachelor for one day – and now he has his happily ever after lightly snoring in her bed, murmuring his name.
Perhaps being the prince wasn’t so bad if he got you by his side.
TW : Mentions of rape, death threats, bullying, doxxing
It's been 9 long months of me keeping this entire situation between Eden and I quiet. I know I said I wouldn't address this again, but I will because as someone who's been a victim of bullying growing up, I’m not letting someone who has made this space feel unsafe for me take next to no accountability. I kept quiet due to how much traction Eden was getting on tumblr and her sweetheart persona was hard to single-handedly dismantle.
Firstly, I want to say that the rise of anons being cruel by sending rape or death threats to anyone involved AND not involved is absolutely disgusting, and I don't support it whatsoever. You're not better than anyone being called out right now.
Secondly, I won't be addressing every allegation with no proof, and they also have nothing to do with me. I'll be as to the point as possible since this has dragged on for too long, and I believe her past actions do speak on her character.
The fallout between sweethearticism/eden happened as a result of her not reading a oneshot I dedicated to her and that she inspired. This is not an issue on its own, and I completely understand that people are simply too busy to read sometimes. I'm the same. The issue stemmed when she would claim to be too busy to read yet had the long fics of bigger writers reblogged the same day they were dropped. Her claims about my work being on a schedule appeared disingenuous, and I felt as if someone who was my friend and someone I looked up to was putting me on a back burner for blogs who were bigger than me. Several others who I will not name have stated that they have felt the same, that they have noticed the switch in behaviour once Eden grew in following.
Again, I would like to reiterate that the problem is not that she didn't read. It's the fact she lied for weeks on end over something we could have easily cleared up over text. It was never that serious, but things escalated unecessarily the moment she went to her friends about it.
I perceived the two of us to be very close, to the point that we knew a lot of personal things about each other, and we spent many hours a day texting back and forth before she stopped. I even changed the plot to my gojo kinktober post since the original had a phobia of hers, and I didn't want to frighten her. So, seeing her gradual change in behaviour really threw me off.
The above image was when she addressed not interacting with me after I was triggered by an uncensored masterlist and a graphic video both depicting rape. I would like to clarify that, yes, I am also a victim.
I went quiet for a few days and eventually came back to a server we were in and back to DMs, in which I made it explicitly clear to everyone that I was okay and we were all interacting with each other as normal. I didn't say at all that I was overwhelmed with interaction, and this ties in with a later point where Eden expected me to interact with her but wouldn't interact with me. The shift in behaviour became much more obvious after this point, and I feel like this is not what fandom is about — only engaging when you get engagement back.
The fic dedicated and inspired by Eden was written in August. Then we come to the server we were in with other mutuals. The falling out did not take place in this server and there was no hate directed towards me that I am aware of since I left it.
I left on the 15th of September due to frustrations that my mother was pushing me into a forced marriage. It was a lot for me mentally being around people, and I was also pretty fed up with the weird hierarchy that had taken over where Eden was put on a pedestal and this was a reason why many of us left the server. She posted about not having a safe space after I left, and honestly, did she even check why I left in the first place before making it about herself?
After days of not messaging me, I got this message, which I ignored. I ignored a lot of people, and afterwards, she closed our DMs.
I unadded her shortly after due to this reason. On the 19th of September, I was at university for close to eight hours, and it was a rough day. Eden DMed me on tumblr with several long messages that I've added only a couple of. I would've appreciated a simple "Hey, can we talk when you're free?" instead of bombarding me.
Why is it fine for her not to be active on my blog, but I need to be active on hers?
And why are we lying about the schedule when you went out of your way to reblog long fics by bigger writers the day they dropped on multiple occassions?
And yes, she does expect me to look at her things as per the first screenshot. With other statements from mutuals coming out, this is a recurring behaviour.
Eden stated she was busy with caretaking in our DMs, too, but I was also taking care of my own mother around this time after she had a slipped disk. This entire thing shouldn't have happened. If we were to communicate properly little by little between ourselves, this issue would've resolved better than it turned out.
I swore out of frustration from being confronted in an overwhelming manner and general annoyance with her behaviour as of late, as well as being aware of issues she created out of nowhere with my other mutuals. Large chunks of text are hard for me to read, which also didn't help. Yes, I was harsh, and I take responsibility for that. Prior to this, Eden said she appreciated if I was blunt when I said I would be, and suddenly, she changed her mind. The time between the second and third messages was around 20 minutes. I had ignored her after the second message because I was tired, and in that time, she showed howlsmoonhaven/Howl our dms and they got mad at me and said something to Eden which I guess changed her mind, and again I ignored her third messages. After waking up in the morning, I see that Eden has blocked me.
An ex mutual of mine forwards me a 17 minute long voice message from Eden explaining what she did which was literally just a reiteration of what she said in our DMs, that she went to Howl for an "outsiders opinion" on what I said which makes 0 sense because they're very close friends?? Of course, Howl would be biased.
On the 20th of September, my grandmother passed away. At this point, I had already vagueposted a few days beforehand, and Eden had done the same but deleted it. I vagueposted about how it was funny that Eden kept me around on tumblr, but some of her close circle had already blocked me. I come home after her funeral on the 21st of September to see these asks that had been sent during it.
I don't want to talk about this particular issue anymore since it's still very sensitive to me, especially with fresh anons telling me to die for real and join my dead grandma.
But on the 22nd of September, Howl and Cilil (the latter who has just recently blocked me), two individuals who are part of Edens' friend group, reblogged this.
Do I need to say any more? Whilst I do not know who sent me those hate asks, this was reblogged with suspicious timing and Eden has been proved to lead hate trains towards other users which I will address later on in this post and people will just do as she says. I also received this ask here where someone admitted to lurking on my blog and called me evil the day I decided to go on hiatus, which was my tipping point.
I was nowhere near as close to Howl as Eden is, but I felt incredibly hurt that my side wasn't heard out considering Howl and I spent days at a time sharing things about our special interests and they even sent support the day I got diagnosed with ADHD.
Eden was aware that I was mutuals with Howl and had them added on Discord since I met them through her. I expected more than just being blocked outright after Howl 'got mad'.
This all bubbled up until I went on hiatus sometime between November and December, which was a result of more hate anons. They started up after I mentioned that this app felt like a clique and that not all writers are good people. This statement was posted on my sideblog that I had blocked Eden on.
Afterwards, I found myself blocked by her in return so one could make the assumption that someone told her what I said even though at no point did I mention any names. And yeah, after that came my hiatus and supposed claims that Eden was explaining herself to everyone about what happened while I was gone.
Above are some screenshots I think are worth mentioning even though I'm not involved. The first image is from when someone in the server was involved in some drama regarding AI usage and they were upset. Eden confronted the tumblr user accusing the server member of copying a c.ai bot in their fic and encouraged others to do the same. Some did and some didn't, but to intimidate someone like that on tumblr over ai usage and a private confrontation is crazy to me personally. She's not above sending people to harass those she sees as deserving of harassment and it speaks a lot about who she associates with, assuming they were involved in the incident. This also shows that while Howl and Eden claim to have not harassed a writer, they have done it to at least one other user. By this point, a lot of us considered leaving or had left the server.
Again, I think this is worth calling out because it is a reflection of her character.
People should be able to exist on the same app whether Eden likes it or not without there being harassment involved. It's a safe space for EVERYONE, not just her circle of friends, so it's important to practise what you preach.
Multiple people have experienced feeling belittled or have been blocked for not 'giving the same energy'. Everyone has their own lives too, may I remind. If we communicate with each other better, we can avoid situations like this in the future.
From September 2025 until now, Eden and I have had each other blocked, so granted, she didn't have a way to apologise to me directly. But I have no intention of contacting Eden again, considering the fact that both her and her content, e.g., the supposed sideblog SSG that has blocked me, her flirting with minors, make me uncomfortable.
While I don't want to think about this situation again, I will most likely only answer serious questions that I think will add more context to the situation. Thank you.
taking off my ninja mask to reblog this, vent and add my piece.
there is a strong possibility that i will be deleting this after a while just because this has nothing to do with my blog, but i’m reblogging this because i have sat here for many months while a dear friend of mine was being harassed and tormented on top of their own personal issues (some of which have been used against them) when we should just all be coming here to post and read fucking porn. not to mention at this point, sweethearticism was so big that we would constantly see her in people’s asks and reblogs even though she had been blocked which was triggering and incredibly frustrating at times.
we have constantly fought the itch to say something, and i know that others have been tempted to speak up as well but ultimately chose not to because it wasn’t the right time because of intimidation or not wanting to instigate what could be considered as drama. we ultimately chose to suck it up and share this space with someone who we disliked because who are we to dictate who can and cannot use this app as much as we wanted them out of our face and not shoved down our throats?
i can’t tell anyone what to do but please read this and reconsider your association or interactions with sweethearticism accordingly if you are still unsure of where you stand.
MDNI!! sucking sukuna’s cock while riding gojo’s face. ^.^
you’ve got satoru flat on his back under you, hands gripping your thighs like he’s scared you’ll float away if he lets go. his head’s tilted just enough for his mouth to stay latched onto your pussy, his long tongue making slow licks through your folds — before flicking up against your clit.
he’s moaning into you like you’re his favorite meal, soooo, soooo messy. “fuck, sweetheart. . . you’re dripping all over me,” he mumbles, lips shiny and chin soaked. his grip on your hips not letting you move an inch.
your hands are busy in front of you, stroking sukuna’s cock in long, steady pulls. his breath stutters above you and you keep your mouth stretched around him, swallowing every inch until you finally pull off with a wet gasp. spit clings to your lips as you catch your breath and then your fingers trail lower, slow and teasing, until they curl around his balls.
his brows draw low, a sharp look cutting down at you. “what the fuck are you doin’? get back there,” he growls, one hand tightening around your throat like he’s ready to force you back onto his cock.
instead, you smirk up at him, leaning down further and wrapping your palm fully around his balls. they’re warm and heavy in your hand, skin tight from how hard he’s holding back. “fuck—” he grunts, the tension in his shoulders melting into something darker. “you dirty little slut. . . playin’ with my balls now?”
you squeeze slow, rolling them in your palm, thumb teasing that sensitive spot underneath, then drag your tongue wet and hungry over the soft skin before taking one into your mouth, sucking hard and swirling your tongue until he shudders, his fingers tangling in your hair now, while your other hand strokes his slick, spit-covered cock.
your mouth works over his sack, lapping and flicking between them as he breathes out ragged curses.
he pulls you tighter against him. “god, you’re filthy,” he growls, before guiding you back up to his cock. “now get back up here and choke on it for me.”
you take him in your mouth again, spit and slick coating his length as you swallow him down. his hand is still tangled in your hair, guiding your head on his cock — and his other hand wraps loosely around your throat again, thumb brushing the side of your neck feeling your pulse jump.
“fuck, that’s it. you liked playing with my balls, huh, slut? bet fuckin’ loved it, didn’t you?” sukuna groans, his fingers flexing against your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. “shit, look at this,” his thumb presses up under your jaw, making you feel every inch of his cock deep in your throat. “gagging on my cock while you ride his face. . . letting me hold you here like this. you’re such a greedy little thing.”
beneath you, satoru makes a low sound like he’s jealous, his tongue pressing harder, flicking against your clit until your hips twitch forward on instinct. “don’t you dare forget about me,” he says, muffled against your pussy — and then he bites right over your clit, holding the pressure until you gasp around sukuna’s cock.
sukuna laughs when you choke on him. “what’d he do, huh? bite that pretty little clit?” he smirks down at you. “bet it’s throbbing now.”
your thighs tremble, your moans muffled around sukuna’s length, but you keep sucking, swallowing down the salty taste of him.
“yeah. . . fuck. . .” sukuna keeps his grip on your hair steady, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him while his hips roll slow. “she’s takin’ me so good, satoru. bet her pussy’s squeezin’ the fuck outta you right now.”
“like a wet dream,” satoru hums, sealing his mouth over your clit again and sucking until you gag around sukuna. his nose presses into you as his tongue works deep and you feel him smile when you moan.
with a slow, wet drag, sukuna pulls his cock from your mouth, spit and pre-cum stringing between your lips and his tip. he smirks down at you, breathing heavy. “open your mouth. stick out your tongue.”
you do as he says, and when you open your mouth, he spits right onto your tongue — so wet and filthy. “swallow,” he orders, watching your throat work before shoving his cock right back into your mouth, pulling a choked, needy sound from you. “there you go. now you’re all hydrated again.”
you hum around him and he groans low at the vibration, his hand sliding from your chin to the side of your neck again, holding you just firm enough to keep you still.
“she’s lovin’ this,” satoru says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “mouth full of cock, pussy stuffed with my tongue. . .slutty little thing.”
you grind against his face without meaning to, while your hands twist around sukuna’s shaft, smearing spit down to his base.
“mm, she’s squeezin’ her throat harder when you talk like that,” sukuna says with a smirk. “keep it up.”
“oh, i’ll keep it up,” satoru replies easily. “she gets off on being used like this, don’t you, sweetheart?”
you try to shake your head, but sukuna pulls out again, fills it just the tip in your mouth and within seconds he pushes deeper, making you choke even harder around him again and again.
“shit, yeah,” sukuna grunts. “that’s it — gag on me, baby. mess up my cock.”
satoru takes that moment to suck your clit hard, teeth grazing before he gives you another quick bite, making your whole body jolt.
you’re exhausted.
“thought you said you could handle it,” sukuna taunts, eyes glittering. “already giving up?”
you moan around him, trembling with desperation
“oh, she’s close,” satoru says knowingly, licking slow circles now. “i can feel her shaking.”
“good,” sukuna replies. “let her cum on your face while she’s choking on my cock.”
that’s all it takes — your hips grind down into satoru’s mouth, sucking sukuna harder until your vision fuzzes. you cry out around him when it hits — your orgasm tearing through you as you squirt in sharp pulses all over satoru’s face. he groans, drinking it in like he’s starving, his tongue working to catch every drop.
then hot, thick cum hits your tongue, salty and warm and you gulp it down while your body’s still convulsing from your release.
“f-fuck— yes—” sukuna groans, his grip tightening on your jaw as his hips snap forward. “swallow it. don’t waste a drop.”
when you finally pull off sukuna with a wet pop, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, breathless.
only then does sukuna lean down, crashing his mouth against yours in a hot, filthy kiss, his tongue sliding against yours like he wants to taste his own cum on you.
just as you’re getting lost in it, satoru butts in from the side, biting your cheek and whining, “what about me?” like he’s pissed he’s not getting his turn.
sukuna just laughs darkly while grabbing satoru by the hair and yanking him right into the kiss — pulling him in to make sure he’s part of the mess too. satoru groans, teeth scraping your lips, tongues fucking around, the three of you tangled up in a nasty, desperate kiss.
when you pull back from the kiss you notice sukuna’s eyes fixed on your soaked thighs and satoru’s wet chin smirking at you. “now it’s my turn,” sukuna says darkly, a slow grin spreading across his face. “i want you to squirt all over my fuckin’ face too.”
“let me breathe, weirdo,” you chuckle, voice still ragged. “you two are insane — i swear i thought i was gonna die for a second.”
sukuna grins like a devil. “and you fucking loved it.”
satoru pats your thigh, still grinning up at you with his lips glossy. “round two? i still haven’t cum just so you know. it’s my turn to have my cock sucked too.”
you laugh under your breath, shaking your head — but you already know you’re not saying no.
tldr pissing sukuna off in tomodachi life because he pissed you off in real life
sukuna's been nothing short of a dick today.
he's been in a horrible mood since his eyes opened, barking orders and insults at everyone around him, and shrugging you off when you say something about him. sukuna knows that you hate when he's rude to the people under him, he's got the emotional scars of all your silent treatments to prove it.
and, because your lovely husband decided to be mad at the world today, you decided to be mad at him.
of course, there's not really anyone to blame but himself. sukuna regrets telling you off earlier each time he walks past you curled up in your quarters, that handheld device not having left your hands all day. he doesn't quite remember the name, but he does remember the few times he's crushed the controllers for it because of that little man with the mustache.
(sukuna is no longer allowed to play video games that require any skill because of that.)
"what are you doing?"
your husband's voice grumbles from the entryway, but not enough to pull your attention away from your game. you just shrug and press a few buttons, pretty much ignoring him, causing his eyebrow to twitch. he dislikes when you ignore him almost as much as when you outright berate him.
for a moment, sukuna actually thinks before he acts. he enters your space, sits down next to you, pays close attention to what you're focused on. there's a little character on your screen that resembles you, the same color eyes looking back at you. it's what you'd consider 'cute', he thinks.
"is that supposed to be you?" he asks, the question coming out more condescending then he meant for it to.
"mhm," you quietly hum, "i gave myself a new room."
it goes silent, and sukuna just watches as you feed yourself realistic food and give yourself new clothes. he can sense your frown when your character says it doesn't like something, and can feel your analysis on the clothing choices you have left.
"i made you, too," you admit, hitting a button so you back away from your character. the cursor scrolls into the next room, and grabs the attention of the avatar there.
and, it's him. sure, a watered-down cartoonish version, but definitely sukuna. it's got all the markings on his face, almost 1:1 on how they appear on his skin. his expression is unimpressed, not offering a greeting nor a wave.
however, there is one tiny issue with your rendition of sukuna.
the ugly, wretched mushroom costume you've put him in. he looks quite unserious sporting a frumpy tan stem and a large mushroom cap on his head—sukuna would never wear that.
"why is it wearing that?" sukuna questions with a distasteful look on his face.
"you didn't like the tuxedo i gave you," you begin, a grin pulling at your lips, "so you get the mushroom outfit."
sukuna scoffs quietly, but still keeps his focus on the screen, watching as you try to guess what a pixelated image is. you don't win, so sukuna's character offers you a box of tissues. he then complains about being hungry, and sukuna looks at your cursor scrolling through a list of foods.
it lands on a fried egg and you give it to him. he eats it, wipes his mouth, and his eyes go wide.
he hates it so much his ghost leaves his cartoon body. the mushroom costume falls over with disgust. real-world sukuna frowns, but he can sense the amusement you got from feeding him something he doesn't like and basically killing him in-game.
sukuna may not quite understand it, but he'll leave it be if it makes you happy.
🐮 (MDNI) You want some of Barista BullHybrid!Toji's 'special' milk!
cw :: male lactation, clothed humping, groping, jerking off through clothes, spitting, 2k words of reader being a pervert. Again.
Jingle!
Sigh.
"Welcome to The Creamy Bean, how can I flick yours today— oh… It's you again."
The sound of the door shutting overrode your chirpy greeting, but didn't stop the image of you waving at the barista. You inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as the smell of ground coffee filling your nose.
It was the third time that week you had entered the newly opened café, entranced by both the sweet milk they served and the owner — who happened to be a very cranky bull hybrid.
As of that moment, Toji had his beefy arms folded, pecs fighting for their lives behind the tight, black apron he wore. You didn't know why he bothered to wear it, though — seeing as though they did nothing to hide his prominent nipples, which bulged out on either side of the fabric.
He looked more… on edge than usual, but you brushed it off with a wave of your hand.
"Mornin', sunshine!"
"Don't call me that."
Toji's jaded eyes narrowed as you leaned against the counter, tail lazily swishing behind him. One tagged ear twitched in annoyance — he had little patience for over-the-top customers who tried to engage in conversation with him.
But you shrugged it off, mouth watering at the thought of getting your hands on some more of that ambrosia in the form of white liquid. "I'm feeling peckish today, Toji."
"As expected. Get on with it, what's the order?"
"You got any more of that milk. Y'know, the one that comes in those cute glass bottles?" you asked bluntly, peering around the hybrid's stupidly large form. The fridge behind Toji was empty that afternoon, which was strange. Usually, rows upon rows of clear bottles would line the shelves, priced and ready to be sold.
Toji simply shook his head, eyes averting to the side. "No. We have almond milk, though. Or oat and soy."
"No, thanks," you declined, a pang of mild disappointment crossing your face. "I only like the sweet stuff you usually keep back there. How come there's none in stock today?"
The hybrid went quiet at that, shifting from one foot to the other in discomfort. Toji scratched his head, debating as to whether he should just lie to you or embarrass himself to one of his unfortunately loyal customers.
Ah, fuck it, he thought — what use was there lying to you when you were just some harmless customer he'd probably never see again outside of business hours?
With a reluctant sigh, Toji answered. "Bulls haven't been milked today," he gritted through clenching teeth, dragging a heavy palm down his face.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Now do you want the alternatives or not?" he said, clearly impatient. You weren't listening, though. As soon as Toji had revealed his current predicament, your eyes were on his chest. His full chest, which wobbled with each agitated movement of his. If you looked closely — which you did — you could see the slight moisture gathering on the end of his pert nipples , which looked tender to the touch.
He was the bull who hadn't been milked that morning.
Seeing the realisation dawn on your face, Toji scowled at you, hands shifting higher to cover his aching pecs. "Fuck is that look for?"
"I've been drinking your milk this entire time? That's what you've been selling?"
"And what?" Toji grunted, the tinge of pink on his cheeks deepening. "You think I have a magic wand that I can just wave around willy nilly and it'll conjure up something for me to sell? It has to come from somewhere."
You fanned yourself, ignoring the way Toji threw his hands up as he vented. "Shit, I'm not complaining. That's really erotic. Male lactation."
"You disgust me."
"And you're the one selling this stuff without anyone knowing what it actually is," you teased, calling Toji out without an ounce of shame. "I'm just wondering how on earth a bull's producing milk."
"Beats me," he scowled, cradling his heavy chest. "Someone out there is writing a cruel joke on me as we speak.
You watched as Toji's brows furrowed at the growing ache building up within him — and the beginnings of an idea, as lewd as it was, began forming in your mind.
Someone had to be the hero and save the hybrid from doubling over in front of customers. You quickly glanced around, thanking your lucky stars that the café was empty. A stroke of luck, if you disregarded the fact that it was a Tuesday morning — one of the slowest times of the day for Toji's business.
"I'll tell you what. Give me some of that milk, straight from the source, so that we could be doing both of us a favour," you offered coyly, wiggling your eyebrows. "You won't be walking around with leaking tits and I — as in, your most loyal customer — will have her fix of milk for the day. Consider it compensation for not stocking up."
"Yeah, you're crazy. Get the hell outta my café— hngh—!"
Your eyes widened as a spurt of white liquid left Toji, small but enough to make the hybrid hiss out in acute distress. It trickled out from between his thick fingers, splattering onto the tiles in messy drops.
"Fucking— fine, fine. I'll get the pump."
"No," you called out, seizing the opportunity. "Straight. From. The. Source."
Toji looked at you, properly now. The expression on your face was determined, and your palms pressed down flat onto the counter like you were making a move to leap over it. With a flustered shake of his head, he motioned for you to come around.
"In the back, and not another word."
.
.
"Mmpfh," you gulped loudly, eyes screwed shut as you suckled on Toji. He had led you to the storerooms right at the back, hidden from the eyes of any potential customers.
Screw them, he wanted to say — but Toji was desperately clinging onto any sense of self-preservation he could find. "S-shit, slow down. I can't…," he rasped, one large hand cradling the back of your head.
Toji was a mess, eyes on you as you shoved the engorged pec further into your mouth, as far as it could go whilst you rutted your pussy down onto his meaty thigh. Your free hand groped at his other pec, the flesh spilling from between your wandering fingers.
It took everything in you not to splutter around his taut nipple as the milk came gushing out of him. You were far too greedy, and it showed in the way the creamy droplets escaped the corner of your lips and down the bobbing curve of your throat.
"Can't stop m-moving my hips," you gasped, pulling off Toji with a wet pop. You dove back in, flattening your hot tongue and lapping up what had trickled out of him. He could only let out a series of choked groans, muscles tensing when you pursed your lips and focused your attention on his other brown nipple. "Ngh, 's sooo creamy."
The hybrid's head fell back with a resounding thud onto the wall behind him. This was bad — Toji was enjoying having a pretty girl on his lap far more than he should have done.
There was no denying it either, especially with the way his cock jutted out at the crotch of his pants, fat tip leaking steadily until a patch of glossy precum soaked the fabric. You weren't faring any better, though — moans muffled as you drank, and drank, and drank, clit rolling onto strong muscle.
"Love your tits, 'ji," you slurred, drunk on the taste of him. The wetness between your legs continued to smear all over Toji's thigh. "So big 'n warm…"
"They're not tits," he barked, unable to do anything when you squeezed the pec that wasn't being attacked by your mouth. "Ah, shit. D-don't do that, that's valuable stuff you're wastin'."
You didn't care, though, now feverishly humping Toji's leg the more the rich substance filled you up from the inside. What made it worse was the fact that you had taken it upon yourself to palm Toji's crotch, a surprised sound vibrating around his nipple at the sheer size of what he was packing down below.
"Gotta give me some of that other milk next time," you cooed, rubbing your palm against the length of him. Toji was at a loss for words, lidded eyes focused on your milk-slicked lips. You flashed him a woozy grin and leaned forward, your own chest squishing up against his.
"Awh, you want a taste? Does Toji wanna taste his own milk? Tell me."
He nodded, unable to stop himself. Toji was the one to chase your lips first, leaning in until the potent taste of his own milk coated his taste buds. The hand in your hair only gripped you firmer, holding you in place as the kiss grew more clumsy.
Toji was greedy, more greedy than you were as he licked into your mouth — like he was trying to take back each and every drop you stole from his pecs. And then a low groan rumbled in his chest, embarrassment coursing through him when he realised how much he liked this.
"Fuck, that's what I taste like?" Toji muttered against your lips after releasing you — a wet string of milk and saliva connecting you both together. You pecked him, soft mwahs echoing in the storeroom as you both continued to hump each other.
You nodded, licking across the sharp curve of the hybrid's jaw. Not once did your lower half stop, still grinding your soaked, cotton-clad pussy onto the tensed thigh under you. "And you like it. Can't believe you've never tasted yourself before."
Toji didn't answer you, the bucking of his hips growing more frantic. His hand slid down from your head, all the way down the small of your back. He cupped your ass, smacking rather harshly one time and shoving you closer against him. Milk continued to leak out of him, slower than before and staining into the top you were still wearing.
"More. Give me more."
With a wicked grin, you obliged. You shifted back slightly, mouth latching onto Toji's sensitive nipples yet again. It was filthy how your cheeks bulged out, eyes not once straying from his as the product of his lactation filled your mouth.
Instead of swallowing, you rose and cupped the hybrid's jaw. With a humiliating speed Toji would come to mope over later, he opened his scarred lips wide, the ears atop of his head twitching eagerly this time around.
Pwah!
You spat the liquid into Toji's mouth, some dribbling down his chin and back down onto his chest. Most of it landed inside, however, and he struggled to swallow it all — cumming inside his boxers at the same time. He cursed brokenly, shooting messy ropes of cum inside the increasingly damp confinements of his boxers.
"Look at that," you marvelled, yelping when Toji's hands squeezed at your ass uncontrollably. Your own hips had stopped moving by now, orgasm forgotten as a result of the spectacle before you.
His nipples were puffy, glistening with his milk and your saliva but relieved from the worst of the pressure from before. "Creaming in your pants after drinking your own milk…"
"Shut up. Stop talking, please," he panted, ears now laying flat against his head in defeat. There was no bite to his words, unfortunately for him. You had milked him good and proper, and there was no denying it.
With a tut, you gave Toji's left nipple a squeeze, ignoring the gruff protests leaving him. "That's no way to talk to me after what I've just done for you. Without cumming myself, I may add."
"Keep talking 'n I might just bend you over somewhere. Once… I can breathe again."
You perked up, about to take him up on his offer when suddenly—
Knock, knock, knock!
"Delivery driver here! Order for a Mr. Fushiguro. Breast pumps?"
Toji looked at you. You looked at him. He rubbed the back of his head, unable to meet your gaze. "Any chance I can return the order? Don't need 'em."
Freaky ass animation from tabuley popped up on my feed n here we are
Synopsis. In this season of The Bachelorette, 22 of Japan’s hottest bachelors vie for a chance for your hand…and between your legs. A plethora of eligible men from a buff personal trainer to a handsome lawyer, to a white-haired model with way too much charm—this might just be the steamiest season yet!
Pairings [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, The Bachelorette AU, reality TV, interviews, confessionals, sIight pIot, one-on-one dates, rose ceremonies, máting presses, they’re FÉRAL, spítting, chokíng, manhandIing, sIight bréeding, tummy buIges, DlLF!Toji, semi pubIic (Ino), sIight exhíbitíonism, sIight bòndage (Higuruma), p talking, p sIapping, fuII neIsons, DÚMBIFlCATION, cervíx smooches, MMA fighter!Sukuna, HEADLOCKS, Gojo’s PÚSSYDRÚNK, babbIing, creampíes, cúmpIay, proposals, possessive!JJK men, showing off, surprise at the end, you get to actually choose, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Those pics from Artemis II are making me saur emotional- also Happy Easter to everyone that celebrates!
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - First rose.
“Name? Toji Fushiguro. Age? Hah- who’re you to ask?” Even his introduction sounds like he’s sizing everyone in the studio up, a single unimpressed brow raised. In front of him Toji keeps his beefy arms crossed - both to stave off the awkwardness of speaking to a rolling camera, and to flex his biceps—just a little bit.
They were still filming the footage of their introductions - Toji hasn’t even entered that infamous mansion yet and somehow he finds his knee bouncing.
He doesn’t know whether he wants to (reluctantly) thank Shiu or throttle him for signing him up for this…bachelorette show. Is this what the youth was interested in these days?
Verdant eyes darting around the dimly-lit room, “I work as a personal trainer, among…many other things.”
A producer probes from one end, “And are you confident you’ll be picked, Fushiguro-san?”
“Confident?” He can’t help but crack a smile at that, “Please- who wouldn’t pick me? One night is all I need.”
A sudden hush falls over the studio—cameramen meeting eyes with each other, and producers who simply couldn’t see past the multi-million yen signs that were popping up in their vision. They’re rubbing their hand together, and urging the handsome man on the seat to continue speaking-
The producer that was more in charge of the B-roll footage speaks to Toji once more, “Now that’s certainly the way to enter this season, Fushiguro-san.” Flipping through the notes given on each condition, “And what else? Could you please tell the audience what you like to do for fun?”
“Hah…going to the gym, martial arts, taking care of my little one.” He scratches behind his neck.
“You have a child, Fushiguro-san?”
“Yeah, I have a son. Just six years old.” And he wonders just what booming sound effect they might add on into the background of this confession. He chuckles just thinking about it - how did Shiu convince him to come on here again? Well…he supposes it might also have something to do with you.
Toji’s eyes slide over deftly to the small screen at the back end of the room - just to get the contestants more familiar with you prior to your actual meeting at the mansion, they were replaying raw B-roll from your own introduction.
And Toji isn’t one to latch onto someone like that but- fuck, his eyes really couldn’t stop drifting over.
The curve of your smile. The way you’re looking behind you.
The way those lashes of your flutters just so—
He’s sure the cameras around him notice and hone in on the slight flickering of his peripherals, and he has to shake his head ever-so-slightly to stop himself from making a fool out of himself right here and now. “Yeah…” He rubs his roughened palms down his thighs, “Could you ah- repeat that last question?”
A few crew members chuckle. “Do you think that being a dad is going to hinder your chances in any way, Fushiguro-san?”
“Nah.” He leans back n’ tightens his crossed arms, scarred lips parting with a grin. “I’m a Fushiguro and I always get what I want—and I know what I want now.”
Eyes wafting over once more.
.
.
.
Most of the contestants still remained after the introduction phase - other than a few that were just plain rude, or the two-toned Zenin bastard that was kicked out for his outdated opinions. Upon entering the mansion, Toji Fushiguro had received your first impression rose that night - a signal to Toji that you’re keeping your eyes on him, and a signal to the 21 other men to up their damn game.
They were threatened, clearly.
Perhaps that’s why some of them were throwing disgruntled looks his way. Perhaps that’s why they ducked their heads whenever he passed, whispering behind their hands like high schoolers at a slumber party of some sort.
He’s witnessing this bizarreness as he trudges into the mansion’s vast kitchen. And honestly, Toji could almost laugh- but that’s before he’s catching a shred of what garbage they’re spouting.
“—heard production discussing that he’s a dad.”
That makes him pause.
Though Toji doesn’t let it show on his face, he keeps his hands working on his bottle of protein shake- and his ears turned in the direction of a bunch of stupid bastards that didn’t think they could be heard.
They shoot a few glances at him once more—“You really think she’s gonna fall for an older guy like that? I bet you it’s a pity rose-”
“It’s to get the ratings up, duh.” Another pipes up. “Everyone knows that in the end, she’s never going to go for the old guy.”
“A dad, at that.”
“Shouldn’t he be with his kid, instead?”
“I don’t think she even knows-”
“Probably too embarrassed to tell her-”
SLAM!
The protein shake bubbles over as Toji struggles not to grip it to bits- ultimately ending up banging it down on the marble counter. The group of men swivel their heads around as they realize that he might just have ended up hearing—not so geriatric now, huh?
And Toji feels his face twist into something akin to…a smile. Something welcoming, that you’d never catch dead on his face.
He’s looming one step towards them - just one step - when lo and behold you’re making your way into the kitchen. Baring such a beautiful smile at them all.
And who was Toji to pummel some ugly faces in when your gorgeous one was watching?
Instead, he’s taking you by the hand.
Not even a second glance at the stunned losers left behind- Toji’s dragging you to the quietest, most private room he can find in this house filled with bachelors. Ultimately—it ends up being his room, and the cameras and microphones can only catch snippets of his confession to you.
“There’s something you hafta know.” Comes out Toji’s usually-gruff tone, “I’m a dad.”
A pause.
And then your voice, “Dad? Like…zaddy?”
Beside himself, he laughs. “No. A dad—I have a son.” And by that excited look in your eyes - the way it piques your interest that this might just be the hottest DILF you’ve ever seen - he already knows that those other bastards are going to eat their words.
.
.
.
“S-so about that- ngh—” All the cameramen had been kicked out - just in time for Toji to let you grapple him onto the creaking bedsprings. Clamoring on top. Swallowing n’ sucking down as much of his thickened length between your legs as you could.
You’re feeling his incredible girth stretching you out- throwing your head back as far as it would go.
As you’re babbling and drooling on his sheer length, Toji clasps onto one side of your hips. He’s using but a fraction of his strength to bounce you towards him - in a figure-eight motion that could barely be completed given the sheer shakin’ of your thighs. Squeezed around him.
Rolling his sage-green eyes with rough laughter, he’s spreadin’ his meaty thighs and bucking up into you—the edge of his cock bulges even deeper inside. Deeper than you ever thought possible.
Deep enough that your stomach was displaying a slight bulge where he was pushing his erection against your walls. At least you could feel it like so…and the older man wastes no time before reaching up and pressing the front of his palm against it—feeling for that cylindrical outline. “So? Cheh- finish your sentences, doll.”
“I was just about to…” You pout- and he coos. How cute…
Before craning his head down and spitting between those jutted-out lips of yours. Toji looks up at you through the gaps in his shaggy black bangs, “Are those lips wet enough to finally enunciate your words or do I need to spit again?”
“I was saying—so about you being a father…” You’re trailing off - and there’s a glint in his eyes that lets you know that you’ve certainly caught his attention now. Shyly continuing on with the cockdrunken thought that’d been tumbling around your head, “This is definitely too soon- too forward, but um…have you ever thought about perhaps wanting…another…?”
You could barely meet his eyes- fuck.
Though he doesn’t seem to mind that. He’s wrapping his large hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes either way, breathless. Stunned.
Something so charged between the two of you that it’s easily leaving you even wetter—staining the ridges n’ muscles of his abs with your slippery slick.
Toji leans in close enough that you think he’s about to kiss you. Before he suddenly stops - lips millimeters away from your own - and asks. “Who said you could stop, mama?”
Your eyes widen, “Wh-what—oh.”
And you hadn’t realized that in your tension for his response- you’d completely halted your bouncing hips. You’d completely let your cadence peter out.
And Toji Fushiguro couldn’t have that, now, could he? Especially not when he was…
Before you can even gather your thoughts, he’s arching his sculptured back against the comfy mattress. And fuck- you almost wish you had those cameras right about now—because the way his muscles rippled beneath you was heavenly to look at - Toji smirks like he knew exactly what you were thinking about.
That smug quirk of his lips turning into something far wider, something far more feral once he’s holding onto you from beneath and rut-rut-rutting his slick-sheened cock into you.
Hard hits. Dark brows furrowing in concentration.
Despite you being the one above, you’re completely at the mercy of his swollen cock.
At the mercy of his heavy balls plapping! against the forefront of your cunt. At the way he’s using one hand to keep you stable on top of his vicious pelvis, and the other to press down upon that one spot on your stomach where he could feel himself—Toji runs his calloused fingers across where his reddened tip was pokin’ into your cervix.
Bashing away - he smiles as he feels every single one. Every single bruise he’s pounding out into your deepest depths.
And you’re wracking with shivers on top of him once Toji presses down. “Like I said- who said you could stop?”
There it was again. “I-I mean—”
“If you want to be fucked pregnant, then you’ve gotta continue until those pretty legs of yours are begging you to stop.” Your jaw drops as he continues in his hoarse tone, “You’ve gotta need it.” He tap-taps on top of your core, where your poor innards were being absolutely molded to the thickness of his cock. Vein-covered and hot. “You’ve gotta hunger for it—”
And it doesn’t matter what he could say at this point - every single word was sending your mind spinning even further. “I am-” The globes of your ass stinging at the feeling of his contact-driven body beneath.
“Nuh uh. You’ve gotta work for it, girl—” Emphasized by pushing down on that spot of your tummy once more, “Arch your back.”
Whimpering, you can’t help but listen.
“Heeeeeh- good.” And as a reward, his free hand finds itself slitherin’ between your swollen folds. So sensitive that you’re damn-near sobbing- he teases out your cute clit and gives a few good pinches. “Now clench your pussy. Swerve your hips ‘round and ‘round.”
“L-like this?”
“Mhmmm. You’ve gotta keep on milkin’ my cock for every last drop m’gonna give-”
Your gaze drops between your legs, “I-”
“And then it doesn’t matter if m’shooting blanks—you’ve gotta milk me even more.” Something crazed in his eyes, he’s leaning into your kiss with a smile. Again and again; he’s splitting up the sweetest syrupy orifices inside you - and with only a few more sloppy slashes inside, you’re feeling your body get overcome by the waves of your high.
It fills you up with an initial warmth- from the tips of your toes and to the crown of your head.
Toji snickers as he fucks you through the soaring pleasure, making you feel as though you were on cloud nine. You’ve never known yourself to cum this easily with someone else before - and it’s only growing stronger and stronger inside of you given every thud-thud-thud against your cute g-spot.
Roverin’ his red, rounded tip and keeping it there—
You swear you feel his rock-hard cock start to bead out in even more pre- and perhaps something…even more?
“Follow all that n’ we’re not just going to win the season with an engagement…” Toji snickers to himself, palm massaging over the tummy bulge he was fucking into you. “But a baby, too.”
“O-oh…”You wondered how the producers were doing to explain away this.
♡ NANAMI KENTO - HEART RATE <3
“My name is Nanami Kento, I’m 27.” Such a deep, droning tone—one that immediately catches the attention of those watching, one that immediately sets the speakers slightly, sensually alight.
The camera pans upwards, up and up: revealing a firm torso, clad in such a smart suit. Sculptured core. Strong shoulders. Blond, slicked-back hair that glistened with a thin sheen of gel underneath the studio lights.
Nanami wonders what clips they’d be playing for his B-roll montage - something with the mock-business calls the producers made him act out, something with the sweet treats he bakes as a hobby, something with the long walks on the beach.
The entire process has been a whirlwind ever since Shoko signed him up- for a joke, mind you.
He never expected to actually see himself on trash- ahem, eccentric television.
And yet, here he was.
Hot around his collar as he sneaks a glance at a small screen to the side, replaying raw footage of the show—but most importantly, you. Nanami gulps.
“I’m looking for something serious.” He hopes he doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels, and the tips of his ears tingle once he’s looking away from the screen. “My friends signed me up for this show because they think I’m married to my work- hah. Perhaps I do tend to get caught up in it sometimes, but I really do hope to get married someday…to someone sweet, someone tender.” Nanami glimpses at your smile once more, “To someone I can come home to- not a physical house, but to someone I can leave my heart safe with.”
A producer whispers a question.
“Oh? What’s my position at work?” He repeats the question, before staring straight down the barrel of the camera, “CEO.”
.
.
After an early coupling—the producers couldn’t have anyone closed off too early, of course. Where was the fun in that?
And so came…the challenges.
Just a few days into mingling, the producers pulled you aside to let you know that you’d be taking part in the first challenge of the season: The Heart Rate challenge.
The rules were simple - you were subjected to three minutes of a striptease from each of the contestants, in whatever manner and outfit they chose. In the meantime, a heart rate monitor would be tracking your BPM to announce which contestant had raised your heartbeat the most with their performance.
Simple…right?
Not.
Not quite when there were 18 (a slight drop from the initial 22) of some of the hottest men baring you with their washboard abs- showing off their sculptured shoulders- shyly bringing themselves closer to you. And though it’d been a tie between a certain white-haired model and your favorite DILF (who’d promised he’d be the one to win), who would’ve guessed that calm, collected Nanami Kento would’ve been the one to catch your eye the most?
He was clunky in his moves, that was true, but the ultimate killing shot came towards the end of his somewhat-awkward routine—when Nanami had leaned in close- half-dressed in his suit, tie dangling ‘round his neck - he’d forgone any extravagant costume.
Closer and closer. You were sure he’d be kissing you before…he gently grasped your hand and pressed his lips to your inner wrist.
Right on the erogenous zone.
To you, at least, it hadn’t been a surprise when Nanami had won the heart rate challenge.
Toji’s jaw had dropped- the producers were loving this.
And your reward - a night at a getaway suite with no cameras - had ended up a little…
“N-ngh—” Your mouth gapes open on top of the silken pillowcase, spit leaking out at a dizzying rate. Back arching. Thighs clenching-
Nanami shoves a hand between your pretty legs n’ spreeeeads your pussylips apart for him to slip in easier. “Now now, my love…” His smoky breath rumbles beside your temple, head bowed into the crook of your neck. The blond man feels a single line of tears splash down your cheeks, and he’s running his flattened tongue up the salty liquid- “Has this pussy never been fucked by a gentleman before?”
Before you know it, the rugged hand at your core smacks! down on your puffy lips. And you whimper- “Shit, no—?”
“Oh, reeeeeeally?” Nanami’s sweet, sweet tone coos at you—and you’re given no warning before his beefy right arm wraps around your neck in a headlock. “I fear I could tell, darling.”
Just the slightest twitch of his grin- pressed against the clammy side of your neck.
It’s all you’re getting before Nanami’s reeling his toned back even further, even hungrier - he lets his reddened, bulbous tip throb-throb-throb at your first ring of muscle before shoving it all the way down to the bottom. All the way until your walls have gobbled him down to the hilt, and you’re gasping as you struggle to take him.
Spit drivelling. Fists clenching the pillowcase.
And so he waits.
Juuuuuust waits and watches his massively thickened length disappear between those pussylips of yours. Until you’re starting to whimper. Until you’re starting to perk your hips up impatiently-
And Nanami plasters you to his firm body- the weight of his hips leaning down upon yours. The muscles of his v-line digging into the globes of your ass. Pinning you down to the comfy mattress—he’s then languidly gliding his shaft in and out. In and out.
With the most lecherous squelches! Nanami starts off slow at first - looooong and languid…before then thrashin’ himself carnally inside. “Easy—easy there.” Raspy whispers in your ear, “When you take a cock this- hah, big you hafta take it slooooow, my love.”
Your legs twitch as he’s easing inside a few inches even deeper, probin’ that girthy top into the base of your cunt. “Sh-shit…”
“C’mon.” Nanami grumbles, “Breathe with me, my love- breathe.”
“Breathe?”
“Mhm—s’what you do when it’s hard to take.” He huffs, “Never been taught that by those other boys, hm? Never been made to stretch like thiiiiiis-” Just as long as he elongates his words, his knobbly fingertips scissor open your crevice slightly- making it even easier for him to slip in and out. “Never had this needy pussy fed- hah, until she’s full? My poor lady…Never had these spots over here-” You’re trembling as he swipes down tender orifices, “-stimulated, hm?”
Shaking your head.
He audibly controls his breathing, urging you to do the same.
“Thought so. Now breathe in slooooow—” The blond man directs you- and when you’re taking too long to listen, he’s slammin’ his hand down on top of your cunt with another spank. “Yeah-” Once you’re listening to him after a few struggling seconds- “Yeah, you’ve got it. Take in a deep inhale f’me…”
Just as you do, your stomach contracting with the action, he’s mazin’ away a few more lewd inches - his palm skidding upwards to press down on your stomach. Feeling for himself as he pushes and pushes and pushes inside—“And then- fuck. Then exhale.” Nanami’s usually-steady tone almost…wavers as he says so.
“It feels so—mmm, good.” You’re babbling away as he slots inside. Almost as if your cunt was made for him, he’s lodging against every slick ridge, crevice, and bundle of nerves.
Hitting all the way at the very bottom.
He cracks a little smile, “And that’s how a gentleman fucks.”
Hiccuping, those torturous strokes of his made you wrack with primal shivers. “B-but I want it more-” Attempting to push yourself up onto your elbows, “I want it harder, Nanami-”
“Kento.”
Before you can babble out something questioning at his sudden interruption, you’re being shoved right back down onto the springy suite bed. The luxurious mattress engulfing you. The globular head of Nanami’s cock propels even deeper inside you.
He crushes his bicep even harder around your neck- cutting off your airway.
Even harder.
And you’re choking n’ sputtering - both on the stronghold he had on you, and on the thorough movements of his shaft shovelling inside. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he lodges himself straight at the spongy door to your womb.
Nanami tugs you up to his firm front then, “Call me Kento when we fuck.” Something different in his tone now - something dark and barely held back. It’s as though he was gnawing down on his bottom lip to keep himself in check, he lets out a roughened grunt as he plants one hard stroke—one incredibly hard stroke. “And be careful what you wish for, darling.”
For a gentleman never denies his lady, right?
You whimper.
Steadying his hips, he’s somehow managing to stretch your delicate walls out to his shape. Somehow managing to rub n’ pinpoint the most sensitive areas with his flared ridges. Already locating where your sweetest spot was- Nanami inches his long cock backwards and bashes it right near your g-spot.
Harder and deeper. Harder and deeper. Again and again. Just so thorough that it feels as though his round, red tip was pushing into your very throat.
In just a few sloppy strokes, he’s mapped out your entire cunt.
And no matter how much you’re moanin’ and clawing at the headboard - attempting to pull yourself up as though you’re caught between fucking down to him and moving yourself away - Nanami merely has to tighten his beefy arm ‘round your neck and haaaaaul you right back down. Pressing you against his plush pecs.
“For m’not going to leave this cunt high n’ dry like those other boys-” He whispers in your ear, callused fingertips darting down your slippery crevice to pinch your clit. Those pearly white canines of his nip at the shell of your ear, “I’ll have you know that I’m a man, my love. I’m a gentleman.”
Tears welling up in your eyes, “A-and that means…?”
“And that means I’m going to treat you as this lady-” Rolling over your sweet nub - it sends sparks up your spine. “-deserves to be treated. I’m going to take you out to a nice- loooooong dinner. I’m going to fly you out anywhere your sweet heart desires, my love. I’m going to take you out shopping and- fuuuuck.” The irritated end of his shaft trickles out hot precum, “I’m going to let you try to max out my debit cards- ”
You catch his emphasis, “Try?”
He chuckles, “You sure can try. And then…” Before you’re left eagerly wondering what else he has to say- Nanami rests his cockhead against your g-spot inside.
And then he’s making your poor walls bulge with the sheer force of him digging in and in- such raw pleasure that it makes moans rip at your throat. He didn’t know where you were drooling more from at this point - your mouth or your cunt.
Nanami’s golden hair nearly curtains his gaze now, though that doesn’t shield you from the sheer intensity of it. “And only then am I going to fuck this pretty lady.” He plasters his reddening pelvis against the globes of your ass cheeks, “After such a long, hard day of being spoiled- best believe that m’gonna fuck her to sleep. Fuck orgasm after orgasm out of you.”
“A-and what about you?” You’re turning your head backwards to get a good look at the handsome man, “Aren’t you going to cum, Kento?”
“Oh, my love…” It was just so cute how fucked you were - how you still had your manners despite being so. The sweetest smile graces his face, “Having you cum ‘round my cock is my greatest pleasure.”
And then you’re cumming.
Oh- you can’t help it. Head throwing back into his collarbone. Hands grasping at his own- ones in a headlock around you.
Those zaps of electricity curl at your toes, heat taking over your body, and all it takes is a single glide—down the pulsating area of your g-spot for you to be thrown completely over the edge. Wave upon wave of euphoria floods your body until you feel numb- and through it all, Nanami’s slick-glossed cock was shoving into you at a rapid rate. “Please…” Your mouth waters at the perfect way that Nanami was fucking you through each peak, “Sh-shit, it feels so good-”
Vein-covered cock massaging you up and down, in and out.
Even the tiniest bumps of his prominent veins leave you seeing stars- twinges of pleasure exploding between your legs. Your body goes slightly limp during the crescendo of your high.
“Oh, don’t tap out just yet, my love.”
And something primal inside you twitches at the sound of calm, cool, collected Nanami Kento’s voice like this- before you’re feeling his buff arms pull you right back to him.
“Because this is just the beginning-” He presses a soft kiss to your temple, “-isn’t it, my love?”
♡ GETO SUGURU - One-on-one.
“Hm? Oh, who doesn’t like long walks on the beach?” Geto laughs something deep and rich- unabashed. Blowing his knee-length hair out of his face, some of those Stygian strands get tucked delicately behind one ear. “My name is Geto Suguru, I’m 28, and I’m a professional masseuse.”
Geto’s murky amethyst eyes stare down the camera.
He already knows he’s got them captivated.
He crosses his legs, hands intertwining on top of them. Geto’s smile was utterly feline towards the lens, “And don’t take this the wrong way, but…” When his best friend had jokingly suggested joining this show- he didn’t think that it’d be so fucking fun. “-I’ve never had to chase anyone in my life.”
Geto feels the temperature in the studio drop a few degrees.
A producer stutters, “Y-you aren’t serious…are you, Geto-san?”
“Dead serious.”
He might get his scenes cut out and edited together to paint him as the villain- he doesn’t care. Because it was true—really.
All the confessions, the letters, the sneaking glances down the street. It wasn’t a lie that Geto Suguru never had trouble with the ladies and gentlemen and everyone in-between - to the point where he’s almost grown bored of it. But—you?
He’s seen the raw footage of you on the screens around, and he can’t deny that he was damn intrigued.
You were a challenge. You were someone that made his heart race- and oh, wasn’t that a strange feeling?
“So it’s nice that the roles are flipped for once.” He continues, flashing that infamous smile - breaking a few hearts, or so he’s sure they’ll make it seem so in production later - at the camera once more. He knows how these shows go…“At least, for now.”
.
.
.
“Fuck, Suguru-” Dreamy mewl echoing out in the enclosed space, bouncing off those polished wooden walls. It sounded even louder in the production-made massage room - like music in Geto’s ears.
Geto’s expert hands slide down your body, coated in a sheen of oil.
It smears down your skin—illuminating the spots that he touched. Which seemed quite fitting, in your opinion, as wherever Geto’s fingers traced seemed to leave you alight - his thumb digs into one particularly stubborn knot on your right calf and you shiver.
“Tell me if it gets too much, gorgeous.”
“I will.” You just barely manage out.
The numbers had dropped down to 15, and it’d been time for the one-on-one dates. After your getaway with the blond man, Geto had been the first to whisk you away from the mansion once more—and needless to say that production was having a lot of fun with his profession as a masseuse. The best in Tokyo, actually.
Clients travelled far and wide for an appointment with him - and you’re beginning to understand why.
With you spread face-forward on the smooth table, with your arms crossed in front of you- lips cracking gently open with a sigh once his rugged fingers touch on just one spot—
“R-right there.” On your inner thighs. Too aware of the cameras surrounding you two, you still can’t keep the pleasure out of your voice.
And Geto shifts aside the towel on your otherwise-naked body - shooting a content smile at the camera as they don’t get to see - to rub up on that specific spot once more. “Here?”
Biting on your lower lip, you’re nodding your head. “There.”
Bit by bit. Press by press; he’s inching up the plane of your right leg - kneading and unravelling those knots you didn’t even know you have. He massaged you so well that you could moan. And just as Geto’s fingertips are about to become so blissful that you might have to ask him to pause - not for you, but for the cameras - he speaks. “You’re very tense here, I can tell you don’t let yourself rest.” The crowns of his thumbs rolling circles at your inner thigh, “You have so many knots here- if you want, I could…nevermind.”
And you’re looking over your shoulder at him with an anticipating gaze. “What was that, Suguru?”
“It’s stupid.” He shrugs sheepishly- though the glint in his eyes was telling you a whole different story. “It’s just…there’s this other type of massage that I never actually offer- but it might help you…unravel your body a bit more. But forget about it-”
“Let’s do it.”
And his lips quirk upwards.
And you knew what he was inferring- you fucking knew it. Which is exactly why you’re holding back a slight smirk as it takes Geto Suguru exactly 1 minute and 30 seconds to kick the camera crew out.
Then less than that to hoist himself up onto the massage table as well, to tug his baggy pants down, n’ have you bouncing on his cock.
Spit leaking down one side of your lips as you’re crashing your mouth against his pretty, puckered one- moaning straight into the hot, open-mouthed kiss as Geto’s thick cock swabs inwards. He was just about eight inches, and decorated with so many veins—he might just be stretching you out in ways you never thought were possible to feel before.
The plumpness of his cockhead, the zig-zagged patterns of his veins.
Geto didn’t just have his size going for him- he manages to curve his incredible length just perfectly inside your tight channel. Targeting your sweet spot within mere moments of finding himself between your legs—“Oh-ohhhh.” Crackling out from the back of your throat, “S-Suguru, that feels sho good.”
“Sho good, huh?” You feel his grin against your own mouth, “Don’t tell me you’re that cockdrunk already, gorgeous? And I haven’t even used my fingers on you, yet…”
Before you know it, he’s reaching up his mean left hand- letting it smush your cheeks together. You’re sure that that makes you create such a lewd expression upon your features, but Geto merely beams down at you as though you were the most beautiful creature he’s ever set his eyes upon.
Amethyst peripherals murky with something indiscernible. “C’mon- can you say something without slurring? Can you count from one till ten?”
Crossly- you couldn’t believe his sheer audacity right now. “Of course I can count until—ngh.” Only to be cut off with a thorough slash of his rounded cockhead- you feel it throbbing right against the spongy layer of your cervix.
Gluing himself even deeper with a few wads of his sploshin’ sap. He cracks a smirk, “That’s not the way you count till ten.”
Your mouth gapes.
And Geto takes his long, lingering time to lean closer and spit straight between your stunned lips - before using that left hand of his to close your mouth. “You’ll catch flies, gorgeous.” He titters to himself. The massage table creak-creak-creaks with each thrust of his - and his pace was something thorough and lingering.
Geto knew that his mushroomy tip felt good - and he was using it to his advantage. Not a single hammer of his hips was without reason—he was making sure to massage all the inner linings of your walls - every nook and hidden crevice - before he’s emptying out dollop after dollop of pre at the very bottom of your pussy. Giggling to himself at the way you’re utterly ruined on his long, long length- “Yeah- fuck, yeah. My poor baby can’t even speak?”
Your g-spot, however…he merely teases. Lightly grazing his flared tip near that treasure trove of nerve ends, but never quite hitting it. Again and again.
The velvety walls ‘round that spot quiver with need.
“But can she at least remember her own name?” He echoes. And throughout it all, you’re mindlessly attempting to angle your hips further into his- the ruthless man grabs onto a handful of your hair with his right hand. Jerking your face to look into his own, “I said- can she at least remember her own name?”
You hiss at the searing burn—
“Tell me your name, my cockdrunk girl.”
“Suguru- fuck.” Barely even registering the question - you doubt you could even hear him by this point.
Merely babbling away expletives at the way he’s fucking his cock up even more rudely—he’s poundin’ and poundin’ up into you in sloppy, structured hits. Deep. And Geto peers up into your dazed pupils whilst he fucks you - whatever he’s seeing there makes him smile, “Suguru? Heh- you think that’s your name, gorgeous?”
Mouth gaping, “I-I mean…”
“Well, you’re not technically wrong.” He hums- more to himself than anything.
And by now he’s rammin’ his length away into you at such a pace that the pap-pap-papping sounds were nearly louder than your own mewls. The sheer pressure of the strokes leaving you limp. Tenderly, you’re pushing your face into the sweaty crook of his neck- only for Geto to pull you back once more with the vicious restraint he has on you.
Making you stare into his ravenous gaze, “Look at me when m’speaking, gorgeous- you might be fucked stupid but you’ve gotta remember your manners, right?” Taking your cutesy whimpers as an affirmation, “And you might not be Geto Suguru but…how about Mrs. Geto Suguru?”
Shockwaves of pleasure cascade down your spine.
“Yeah- yeah, you like that?” Snickering to himself - who’d have thought you’d be such a romantic? He was, too…not that he was fucking you like it.
Geto was fucking you rough and hard- bruisin’ his rotund girth at the back of your pussy. He was leaving his mark for anyone else that came after - let them know that he’d been the one to make you feel so good. “I can take your last name, too, if you’d like.”
You’re breathless, “You- you really want to win—”
“Oh? So you can speak.” He speaks with slight amusement, “And, gorgeous- I really want to make you mine.” His tip bulges even bigger at the feeling of you clamping down- shit, it feels so good that he has to gnaw down on his bottom lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. Panting out again, “Mrs. Geto Suguru.”
“Fuck-” You’re bouncing down onto his gluttonous cock.
“Mrs. Geto Suguru-”
“Please-”
“Mrs. Geto Suguru—” The pretty man smiles to himself as he’s finally - finally - pressin’ down on the button of your g-spot. Watching as your thighs quake, watching as your eyes spin to the back of your head. “Cum on my cock, Mrs. Geto Suguru.”
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Who the hell doesn’t wait after knocking?
Surely part of the producers’ ploy; both your heads snap in the direction of the massage room door to see a flash of auburn hair—followed almost immediately by the door slamming closed once the intruder registers what he’s witnessing. And a familiar skater boy’s voice emanating through the slim wooden panel, “S-sorry–!”
You and Geto can do nothing but look at one another.
You’re sure the rest of the contestants would be hearing about this very…very soon.
Though Geto doesn’t look perturbed in the slightest. And he’s the first to move-
He’s the first to flip your positions around so that you’re splaying your back against the massage table now. His toned body hovering over you, he doesn’t waste a second before swatting- yes, swatting aside your trembly thighs n’ swivelling his length inside once more.
Long, luxurious slides down the narrow channel of your cunt.
You’re taking his strokes with a moan, “Suguru—y-you’re not bothered by- ngh, that in the slightest?”
“Why would I be?” He answers. And with that said, his soft fingertips snake between your legs- pinching that swollen clit of yours. “In fact…”
Just the slightest roll of his thumb - and you’re already feeling pleasure wreak havoc on your body. Then he’s pressing, then he’s tugging- then he’s alternating between teasing and pulling and massaging your needy nub over and over in ways that drive you wild. Spelling out what you’re piecing together to be his name—
Geto was about to show you what a masseuse could truly do.
“-how about we step up that volume, Mrs. Geto Suguru?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Fan-favorite.
“I-I’m Choso Kamo, I’m 29, and…um, I honestly don’t know why I’m here.” The dark-haired man beneath the spotlight fidgets with his thumbs, lips barely moving as he attempts to continue the introduction that he’s surely fucked up by now. “My little brother submitted an application on my behalf because he thought that The Bachelorette would be p-perfect for me to find someone and…um…yeah…”
The producers look at each other. Eventually, one of them calls out—“So is she?”
Choso startles- almost as if he didn’t expect to be addressed. Almost as if he didn’t expect himself to be perceived at all. “Well…”
And his eyes drift towards the small screen behind the camera - one that had been playing B-roll footage of you so that the contestants could get more familiar prior to the actual meetings. Oh. It’s strange how as soon as his gaze latches onto you, his eyes can’t seem to find any other purpose but to linger.
Choso’s shoulders raise up to his ears- as if to cover the faint blush that was creeping onto them. “Yeah…” He whispers, “Yeah, she’s just beautiful.”
And it’s all quiet on-set for a second—nothing sounding out but the mechanical hum of the lens as it zooms in on the flush he can’t deny. Choso jumps back a bit as he realizes just what they’d been focusing on, and he’s flickering his eyes uncertainly towards the cameraman behind it- “Are those things always going to be on?”
The other man nods, deadpan.
“Oh.” Choso gulps, “W-well I made sure my little brothers won’t be watching this season- but for the erm…Tiktaks? For the Tiktak edits they’re sure to get, could you make sure you get my good side, please?”
A producer asks, “And just for your brothers- if you could say something to them now, what would you say?”
And he gets a slightly determined smile upon his pretty, pretty face. “Your big brother’s going to win.”
.
.
.
“So…bachelors, as you may know, this week’s Rose Ceremony is going to be like no other- because tonight we’re introducing the infamous golden rose—” A hush falls over the set. The host turns and blinds you and the lined-up contestants with his smile - one of those contestants being your future husband, perhaps.
You’re nodding back at him with a confidence you hoped your expression falsified.
And he turns back to the camera, “Tonight, whoever you choose to hand the golden rose to-” An impression rose just like the others before it, only this time it’d been sprayed gold and held a weight far heavier than just the paint. “-is who you’re going to be going on a three-day romantic getaway, with a honeymoon suite to boot—! No cameras.”
Twisting the rose nervously in your hands, your mind still whirled with names. So many handsome men. So many eligible bachelors- fuck, how were you ever going to choose?
“But…there’s a catch.”
12 contestants - and you - snap their heads over to the slyly beaming host.
He claps his hands in satisfaction, “You won’t be the one choosing your getaway partner.” Your jaw drops- and the host continues into the greedy lens—“It’ll be all of the world that’s been voting, day in and day out, throughout this week to pair up just who they want to see more of. Just who they think will be the perfect match for you…”
“Oh goodness.” You feel something - excitement, anticipation, fear - shoot through your blood vessels.
And looking straight at you, the host pulls out a glossy envelope from his suit jacket. You’re eyeing it as though it was a ticking bomb - and he merely waffles at the camera some more. “And our viewers have chosen: your romantic companion, your getaway partner, the man you’ll be sharing a bed with is—” The words hang in the air for a few more seconds, perhaps minutes, perhaps what feels like hours. “Choso Kamo.”
.
.
.
“Shit…” Choso’s jaw drops, pupils turned into the cutest lil’ hearts and peering right up at you—as you lower yourself down onto him.
His sensitive, twitching shaft disappears between your pussylips, and one hand of his immediately darts upwards to clasp at the side of your waist. Even just touching you like this…fuck, it sends bursts of electricity shooting from the tips of his fingers and up to his frazzled brain- then right back down again to his rock-hard cock.
He doesn’t think he’s been harder in his entire life.
Choso’s letting out a rugged moan as he fits inside your dripping wet cunt with a sluuuuurp! Pretty brown eyes rolling to the back of his skull- he’s shocked once he flutters them open to find that you’ve leaned yourself closer to him.
“O-oh, god…” Words barely a whisper.
One of your hands softly cupping the side of his face, “Something wrong, baby? Would you like to stop?”
“No.” The answer explodes out of him faster than he can control, and before you can register it - before he himself can register it - Choso’s quickly pressing both hands deeper against your hips to keep you from leaving. Even though there didn’t seem to be any immediate urgency of that- he doesn’t let up for a single second.
Digging his nails into your flesh- he’ll apologize for that later. Planting his feet on the soft mattress.
He slams you down to pin that hot, wet cunt of yours against his pelvis - until your clit caresses his happy trail—such a primal scratch down where you were most sensitive. And his body moves before his damn mind as Choso’s swabbin’ his cock inwards-
Not with any specific rhyme nor reason in mind.
Nothing but the primal urge to fill you up - to chase that heavenly squeeze of your walls. They’re spreadin’ apart juuuuust wide enough to gulp down his inches, and then when he’s reeling his hips back you’re clamping down until the man’s held hostage- gladly.
Shit- his lower lip trembles at the feeling. This was like nothing he’s ever felt before- and he hasn’t—
“You’re a virgin, Choso?” Your sweet, sweet hum breaks through the haze of his lust- just about the only thing he hears past the papping! of his hips arching up into yours.
And the man below you blinks up in confusion for a few seconds- long lashes dotted with tears. Before the smile upon your face makes him realize that his muddled brain - all your pussy’s fault - might have just said those last thoughts out loud…
You’re coming to the same realization he is. And you’re cooing down at him- pushing aside the sweat-dampened curls of his bangs. “Awww, pussydrunk already, baby?”
“M-mhm…” He’s nodding languidly.
“Tha’s alright.” You tut, “You’re doing so well for your first time- oh.”
Almost as if jinxing it - though that really wasn’t your fault, he was barely holding himself together as is - he throws his head back n’ lets his aching cockhead dribble out a few wads of…cum. Just from that. Just a few ivory beads of sap that glue to the veeeeery back of your pussy, making Choso lose his mind every time he’s gliding down your cervix and feeling his mess splosh ‘round inside you.
A singular line of cum leaks out of you, and Choso shivers as he catches it. “S-sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to-”
“Nothing to apologize about.” You’re cutting him off with a smile, meeting his thrusts by grinding your cunt down to meet his cock. “You’re still doing so well, baby…fuck, look how much you’re cumming.” And with that said- Choso thinks he sees the pearly gates themselves open up once you’re spreadin’ aside your thighs—just the slightest bit.
But Choso Kamo takes one look between your naked, shivering legs and moans.
Your pussy was just drenched in his cum - absolutely drenched. He hadn’t even recognized that he’d been cumming so much until he’s taking a peek, and he’s watching a few velvety ribbons of seed run down either side of your legs - creating a sheen that smears n’ spreads the more you’re meeting his cadence with your own. Skin against skin.
He’s letting out a ruined whimper—and you’re pushing down on his chiselled chest with a snicker. “See that, baby? You’ve been- hah, holding back for so long.” Even the slightest sound of your voice is enough to make his overstimulated cock spark with pleasure- he’s sure he empties out a few more droplets of cum. “How long have you been wanting to fuck me?”
Choso startles- eyes darting up to meet your expression. Damn that smile of yours. “I-I don’t know what you’re…”
“Oh, c’mon—” Teasing him. Putting pressure on his toned body, you’re now fully letting him recline- it was just so fun how much in awe Choso was…especially when you’re taking control instead.
Almost as if he was being thrown further and further into dreamland with every sloppy drag of your cunt - swallowing him up from his round, blushin’ tip and aaaaall the way to his hilt. His heavy balls, tightening as though he wanted to cum again. “With the way you’re grabbing me? With the way you’re- hah, rutting up to me?” Shoving between his pecs once more—“Down, boy.”
He whimpers.
“How long have you been wanting to fuck me, Cho?” Your lips twitch with amusement- he looks torn between sobbing in pleasure and sobbing in embarrassment. “It’s alright…I won’t judge-”
“Always—” Choso finally echoes out with a sudden squeeze of your velvety pussylips.
Practically wrenching the answer out of him- he laughs out something hollow at the back of his throat. “I’ve a-always wanted to…ngh.” The pointed edge of his tip draaaaags down your cervix, and he’s shivering as he recognizes just where your womb was. If only he could…“Ever since I first met you, I-I’m ashamed to admit but I’ve always wanted to stuff myself between those gorgeous legs.”
You’re giggling scandalously at his admission.
But Choso wasn’t done just yet-
Soon enough, he’s using the firm hold upon your hips to increase n’ increase his pace. Grabbing you firmly and burrowing his cum-soaked tip deeply between your folds- “I’ve wanted to know what she’d feel like wrapped around my cock.” Almost on cue, he’s throbbing between your legs- even harder. “Wanted to know how she tasted-”
“Don’t tell me you’re…”
And without a second thought, one hand lifts off your body - for the briefest split-second - to swipe at your sopping slit. Catching a few droplets of your mess and bringing it up to his lips to suck.
He moans at the taste of you, “Wanted to know how she’d take me. Wanted to feel her get stuffed-” Choso grumbles, and you’re vying to catch up with his needy pace - utterly needy. “Wanted to fill her up so much that every other man afterwards w-would be able to feel me…”
And then he’s trailing off, a harsh blush flooding his pretty features.
“B-but that’s just stupid-”
“Why’s that stupid?” He looks up at you in shock- only to find that you’re already beaming. “How would you know if you don’t try? Heh.”
“I think m’gonna cum again.”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BOMBSHELL!
“These losers aren’t going to know what fuckin’ hit them.” Sukuna scoffs, crossing those beefy arms in front of him. Unlike the introductions for the other contestants, he had…his t-shirt off. For what reason, you might ask?
Well, you’d go unanswered.
Even the producers were unsure just what had compelled their latest bombshell to display his chiselled front. But that didn’t stop them from keeping the cameras rolling- already knowing that audiences were going to go wild for the pink-haired, foul-mouthed addition to your roster. “Name’s Ryomen Sukuna- remember that. Age doesn’t matter. Occupation’s professional MMA fighter.”
He gestures to those scarred ears of his, as most fighters don like medals.
Behind him, there’s cues for footage of his uproarious and successful MMA career - particularly one clip of him winning the title of UFC light heavyweight champion last year - to be added in post-production. And he cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, “Best know that I’ve never lost a match before- and I don’t plan to change that anytime soon. I bet those losers at the mansion- and my pretty lady are going to be damn excited to see me.”
There’s a cue card for him to talk about his hobbies.
“Haaah…” All that boring shit- he wonders who gets off to small-talk on a show like this. “Boxing. Lifting. Meditation. Cardio- many different types of it.”
One producer pipes up, “And why that part about remembering your name, Sukuna-san? Could you clarify that for the viewers?”
“Heh-” Sukuna leers something sinful, crimson eyes flickering over to the small screen of your own footage. It was some B-roll of your own introduction interview, muted for the moment yet he thinks he could almost hear your soft chuckle in his ears- playing on repeat over and fucking over. “Because my future wife’s gonna be moaning it soon enough.”
Someone drops a boom pole.
There’s a cut in filming called out. He knows they won’t be editing that out.
.
.
.
“H-haaaah, now that’s just unfair.”
Toes curling. Your back arching deeply into Sukuna’s sculptured front- it was almost Herculean how he flexed and tensed his abs to show off…particularly when it came to ramming his hips up into yours. Out of all of the contestants, Sukuna was the only one to put you in a full nelson.
“Heh- what’s unfair?” Sukuna’s deep trundle makes your body erupt in shivers- the smugness was practically seeping into every syllable. “Isn’t the bombshell supposed to mess up this pussy- whoops, I mean…season?”
“You’re messing up nothing but my peace that’s for sure…” You’re grumbling back at him - slightly nervous to meet his crimson eyes.
Though you’d have been foolish to think that the MMA fighter wouldn’t catch that- he’s grasping the edge of your chin with a single hand. Tugging your face behind to look at him. All of it in just a few seconds. And Sukuna raises one pink brow as he smirks, “Look me in the eyes when you’re saying something like that, brat.”
“Y-you’re messing up nothing but my peace—” You’re just barely managing to stammer out - Sukuna was savage with his thrusts. And they’re only seeming to grow even faster as you’re answering, as though he wanted to see you struggle n’ choke around his thick cock.
Around that pierced head of his.
The frigidness of his metallic Prince Albert runs down the sides of your walls - and he’s purposefully stopping right before where your g-spot was pulsing. “That’s not what this cunt’s telling me.”
And without any warning, he’s reaching one hand down and smacking! the swollen top of your pussylips.
“Isn’t that right, my pretty girlie?”
Not talking to you—he’s talking to your cunt now.
Dragging the fatness of his thumb - that greedy edge - vertically down your sopping slit. He collects the wetness that leaks out of you, “My wet girlie—yer a lot more honest than this one here, hm?”
You shiver as he slams his rugged palm down on your cunt once more.
How’d you even get here?
Right now, the contestants had been weaned and weeded out until only your very favorites had remained…and then there was Sukuna. It was just today that the bombshell MMA fighter had been introduced to the mansion, and for the short amount of time he’d gotten here- he’d already started seven fights, triggered an emergency meeting, and had enough time to whisk you away on a one-on-one date that had ultimately ended up like…this.
Your legs hooked behind your head. Your back arching against the mattress of your beach cabin—the waves rolled softly outside.
The only thing separating you from it were the semi-sheer curtains of the cabin, swaying softly in the balmy breeze. What a romantic date the producers had set up- for an utterly unromantic man.
Or so he was fucking you like it.
Thank goodness you’d left the cameras behind, though your glaring disappearance was nothing if not scandalous. There goes your reputation…you ponder. This might’ve been the fastest that you’ve gotten into bed with any one of them. And you know he’s bad news, you know you shouldn’t like him so much- you know that out of all those eligible bachelors, Sukuna was going to be the most dangerous for your heart (and between those legs of yours).
But you just couldn’t help yourself.
You’re leaning your head back against his firm collarbones- mewls falling from your lips at an incredible rate.
Sukuna’s veering his hips back and rub-rub-rubbing his flared tip around the area of your g-spot—but never directly upon it. Frustration makes your brows furrow, and you’re just about to bounce your hips down when-
“Ah ah—now what do you think you’re trying to do, woman?”
Just then you’re being pinned right back down with a sudden thwack! of his fingertips. Hard and fast. They’re lingering over your pussylips for just a few seconds, before reachin’ in-between and pinching your cute nub.
And as you’re shaking in his arms - “Did ya think that after so much back-talk you’d suddenly get to play nice?” Sukuna titters to himself, mean lips pressed up against your temple—it would’ve been a sweet gesture…but this was Sukuna you’re dealing with. “Ryomen Sukuna never plays nice.”
“P-please—” Had this been any other time, then you might’ve been embarrassed by just how much he managed to shatter you with his fast, hard-hitting strokes.
Your thighs are flapping lewdly open, and he’s teasin’ your clit even harder with his fingers. Though he still narrowly manages to avoid your damn g-spot—“Wh-what do I have to do to- ngh, get you to hit that spot?”
He acts confused, “What spot?”
“That spot-”
“Hah? I don’t know any spots-”
“H-here…” Rounding your hips down - in something that halfway-resembled a figure-eight. It’s the closest you’re getting to Sukuna grazing your g-spot: the lightest touch of his crowned, throbbing tip. Swollen enough to stretch apart your walls like none other. He’s barely slipping past that orifice with his vein-covered shaft, and it’s already enough to make you moan—
“And who said you deserve that, brat?”
Crossly, “Me- I said that.”
He laughs deeply in disbelief, “Hear that, pussy?” Slapping that cunt of yours once more, “The audacity- it doesn’t matter if I wasn’t the one ta say you deserve this. After all, who does this pussy really belong to?”
Starting to babble out some answer-
Before yet another spankin’ leaves your folds feeling raw - and your eardrums echoing with the dampened noise once more.
It’s all the answer that Sukuna needs.
He nods as though he’s just been handed the answers to the universe, “See- see—did ya hear what she said?” This time, he’s asking you. And you’re barely given the opportunity to answer between his roughened thrusts, “She said that she’s really mine. She’s always- hah, been mine.”
You’re shivering, “A-always…”
“And she wants you to beg for your orgasm.”
That being said, Sukuna reaches down and clasps your neck with his thick digits. Choking you- choking your moans, he’s wrenching such primal noises out of you through the combination of the pressure on your airway, and the pressure between your legs.
Shovelling his thiiiick cock over and over-
“C’mon, my spoiled brat—” Sukuna chuckles, “Beg-” Between thorough thwacks! of his rotund cockhead hitting your cervix. You always have said that Sukuna was so big it feels as though he had two cocks…“Beg, girl, beg—”
“P-please.”
“Tch, you can do better than that.”
The only thing you’re left to do - after so many battering rams of him bottoming out - is to meet his gaze with your teary one. Your bottom lip trembling with sobs, “Please, hit my g-spot.”
“What was that?” He leans in. Smile utterly mocking.
And though your stomach churns, you can do nothing but repeat, “P-please hit my g-spot…please let me cum.” At the very least, now he was letting you swerve your hips back into his - “Please make my- your…pussy feel good.”
And it’s that last sentence that deals the final blow.
“Damn right.”
Because in the next breath you take, Sukuna arcs his pelvis deeply and thuds his drippin’ wet cockhead against your g-spot. Just the slightest push. Just the smallest pressure. And yet, it’s still enough for you to throw your head back and cum—
“Fuh-fuck…” It takes you by surprise - sure, you’d been feeling a few zaps n’ whips of something at the pit of your stomach, but you didn’t expect for Sukuna to actually make you cum so easily. It almost leaves you shy.
For he levers his thick cock backwards, balls twitching eagerly once he pushes his entire length inside. Inside and inside. Fucking you through every single wave - Sukuna’s cold piercing targets your g-spot exactly at the moments where you felt the dopamine in your body surge, and the stark contrast in temperature is only making you even dizzier.
Even needier to feel him.
And he certainly wasn’t leaving you wanting for long- soon enough, Sukuna’s poundin’ away at your sweetest spots so hard that it stings both your slamming skin. His was red and swelling with the print of your hips on his hips.
Yours were barely able to keep up-
Just as you feel the hot flashes of your high bate, Sukuna’s pulling you close and whispering—“Knew that hadn’t changed…” And he’s gesturing to the way you’d - in the heat of your moment - intertwined your fingers with his. Without you even realizing. “Heh, those losers are going to be so pissed when they find out.”
When they find out what you and the producers already know…That Ryomen Sukuna was your ex-boyfriend.
♡ INO TAKUMA - Group date.
“My name is Ino Takuma, I’m 23.” Ino’s pushing back his dark-colored beanie, exposing tufts of cute caramel hair- “And I’m a professional skater.”
“Professional skater?” A producer urges him, “Tell the audience more.”
“W-well, I’ve been skating for a while now, and…” The sheer amount of focus being put on him makes him blush, fingers fighting the urge to pull down his beanie - entirely over his face - once more. Goddammit—Ino watches every season of this show, he can’t deny - trash television was his thing. Saturday nights with a facemask on, phone turned off, volume turned up. So when one drunken night out with his friends meant that he ended up applying for it…he didn’t think he’d actually get in.
It’d been like navigating through thick fog- so many cameras, and boom poles, and acting suave (somewhat) for his introduction footage. It almost made him dizzy. “You might have seen me ‘round in a few competitions…some competitions…the Olympics…”
“The Olympics-”
“Yeah.” He fiddles with the hemline of his beanie awkwardly.
“And did you win a medal, Ino-kun?”
Ino smiles because he knows that it’d been plastered across every headline and sports magazine - there’s no need for him to clarify. Though he does it for the clicks anyways, “I did. First place.”
Excited whispers spread around the studio.
The skater shuffles once more beneath those harsh white lights- this time more out of embarrassment than anything. The cameras roll eagerly, following every movement, and a producer probes at his silence—“And does this mean you’ll be aiming for first place to win her heart, too?”
He chuckles nervously, “I won’t be aiming for it.” Scratching behind his neck, he cocks his head up and catches sight of the B-roll footage they were playing of you on one screen. “I’ll be first.”
.
.
.
Okay, so maybe his introduction was a little overconfident…but wasn’t everyone’s?
Ino Takuma has watched many a dating shows in his twenty-something years, alright; which means he’s gotten used to the pompous one-liners, the nonchalance that everyone attempts to show, the self-assurance—he’s just never wondered what happens when that self-assurance simply…doesn’t produce results.
Which- alright, alright…that’s not to say that he hasn’t produced any results.
As more and more of the contestants dwindled away, Ino still found himself (somehow mercifully) still on the show. And he’s had a handful of good conversations with you, along with a few bonding moments.
It’s just- how come that long-haired masseuse managed to get you into his arms - and on his cock…he’s ashamed to admit he actually saw when he’d walked in on the two of you - all on this show?! Ino didn’t even know that sort of thing was allowed here…
And he feels foolish admitting it but he’s grown to really, really care about you. So thinking about you with some other guy like that pink-haired bombshell or the CEO or whatever—it was starting to make him tick.
Which is why he’s jumping to drag you away from the others at the next group date.
This time, the producers had arranged an indoor skating park date, perhaps to make up for the fact that he hasn’t gotten a one-on-one date yet.
And as you’re a little wobbly on that new board, Ino’s using his expertise to teach you, to hold your hand, to gently direct you around the park—and eventually let you direct him out of sight of the cameras.
Soon enough, you’re pushing him against the wall of the restroom on-site - vast and clean, and spacious enough for you to push him into one of the stalls. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing me.” Leaning up on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “We’ve gotta be quick, though.”
He thinks those might just be the best words he’s ever heard.
You’re turning around and placing both palms on one plastic wall of the stall. Panties in your pocket. Smirk something delicious.
And it takes just a few sloppy strokes between those pretty cunt lips of yours for Ino to become utterly gone—
He’s pussydrunk already.
Mahogany eyes criss-crossing. Weakening in the knees.
The skater holds onto either side of your hips as though to guide the way you’re fuckin’ back into him- but really he’s gripping onto you for dear life. To stop himself from collapsing onto his knees on this damn washroom floor. To stop himself from making a complete and utter fool of himself - the curve of your hips is the lifeline he can’t let go of.
And yet another wretched moan leaves this throat when you’re veering your hips down to his base and clenching-
“Taku, baby…” Your giggle comes out unfiltered, harmonizing with the sinful sound he’s just let out. “You’ve got to be quiet, otherwise they’re going to find us- cameras and all.”
He lets out a slight whimper at the thought, “I w-wouldn’t want you to be exposed because of me like that.”
“Mhm—” Just as soon as Ino’s agreeing to be quiet- you’re gently suctioning your cunt down until his hilt - coating your gooey slick along all his inches - and he’s letting out a euphoric noise. Even louder than before. And you’re just looking over your shoulder with a grin, “Now, what did I say about being quiet, Taku?”
Sounding as though he was on the verge of tears, “I-I can’t help myself, sweetness.” Tone husky. Octaves higher. His poor hips stutter out a singular thrust, and even that seems too much for the skater boy to handle- he reaches up to tug down his beanie. “It just feels so good…maybe m’just not deserving of your cunt- ngh.”
“Awww, don’t say that, baby.”
With a resounding squelch! you’re letting Ino pull out - and instead of telling him to tuck himself back into his pants, as he might’ve expected, you’re gesturing for him to seat himself down on the closed, clean toilet.
Straddling his slender hips and kissin’ his blushing tip to your entrance.
It doesn’t take long for you to siiiiiink yourself down onto him—he might not have been the thickest, but Ino was a length that you swear you could feel at your very throat. And he was actually the perfect girthiness to stretch apart your walls enough that tears prick behind your eyelids- but still smooth n’ slim enough for you to immediately start up an urgent pace. Quick.
Up and down. Up and down.
Ino’s shaft had a particularly prominent vein going down his middle that made you shiver - it was in the perfect position to massage your puckered, pulsing g-spot. You could feel the squiggly line of it practically emblazon against your wet walls.
Your hamstrings keening at the stretch - and Ino was, too.
At least…until you’re tugging out the damp panties you’d kept in your pocket this entire time. And the next moment that Ino’s letting his maw ajar with a sudden moan- you’re quickly stuffin’ his mouth full with the lacy fabric.
Smirking, “See? Isn’t that a lot better, Taku?”
First, Ino’s eyes go wide—then he’s blushing as he registers just what you’d put in his mouth. Then he’s letting those dilated pupils roll aaaaall the way to the back of his head at the feeling of your cunt lavishing out looooong, luxurious thrusts. Squeezed tight around his cock.
He throbs even harder inside of you, “Mmmpf- ngh—sh-sho…can’t even-” Muffled.
“Shhh, you don’t have to say a thing.” You’re reassuring him, pushing back his beanie- there. Those chocolate-brown eyes of his were so pretty. You’re witnessing him tear up - and you weren’t sure whether that was because of the sudden blockage in his airway, or because it just felt so good—you had a sneaking suspicion that it was the latter. “Just be good f’me and fuck up to me, okay?”
“M-mhm.” He’s nodding obediently.
Because it might’ve been him teaching you how to skate out there- but in here…he was all yours.
He was at your beck and call. At the mercy of your bounces-
You’re telling him to go easier on your poor cervix - and though it takes every single shred of will within him to do so - he’s listening to you without fuss. You’re telling him to speed up, and he’s gladly bashin’ away his eager cock inside of you until the skin of his pelvis feels raw…
You’re telling him that someone might be inside the bathroom, too, and he’s too gone on your pussy to even compute—
“Taku.” Stern tone. Serious eyes- despite the fact that your pussy wasn’t letting up for a single second. You’re grabbing directly by the throat - something his cock twitches at - and bringing him up to face you. “Someone’s in here, okay?”
He feels goosebumps go down his spine, “Mmmps- schtawp?”
You giggle, “No…no, we don’t need to stop.” And perhaps in the next few seconds you’d suggest that you two should slow down, instead. Perhaps you’d suggest cockwarming until whoever was inside (and Ino could hear the other person’s voice as they splashed water on their face) left.
But instead you’re merely leaning in- grasping one of his strong arms and guiding it beneath you. You’re directing Ino to cup his fattened base, “This way it’ll be quieter.” Whispering to him, “In fact—how about we see just how quiet you can get, huh?”
And his maw unhinges - drool dripping down each side - and those gorgeous eyes of his nearly bulge out of their skull.
“Of course this bombshell’s gonna blow this whole season up-” Gojo didn’t need to try to make everyone opposite the camera faun - it was practically what he was made for.
One of the tallest in the show. One of the flashiest.
One of the most famous - there wasn’t a soul who’d walked past the billboards in Tokyo that hadn’t already seen Gojo Satoru’s dazzling smile, or peaked traitorously at a blown-up picture of his abs on numerous billboards.
Brands were practically clawing for him—just as much as the ladies and gents were. But that’s exactly why he was here - wouldn’t it be fun to be the chaser for once? Besides, his agent had told him that if he behaved himself, then he might just end up boosting his career to heights never seen before. This season had been a hit so far- but of course, what was a hit without Gojo Satoru?
Pretending to flip his hair over one shoulder, Gojo’s posing with all the best angles for the lens. “I mean- no offense, but have you seen me?”
And on anyone, such confidence would have been seen as a turn-off, a red flag, perhaps even compensation for something lacking. No one should be this confident.
Except Gojo Satoru, of course.
And he smiles like he knows it- rows of pearly white teeth flashin’ in the direction of the camera. “Oh, I guess I really should introduce myself, huh?” He sighs, “I’m Toru, I’m 28. And I’m the man of your dreams~!”
A producer whispers something to him.
“I’m also a model.” Gojo adds, “High-fashion. Editorial. Digimon ads- you name it. I don’t consider myself a romantic, nor someone that really needs love but…” His eyes drift to the B-roll footage they were playing of you on some small screen in the back, getting the contestants more familiar before they actually joined you in the mansion. “-who knows? Maybe things can change.”
Dimples pop out when he smiles.
No one should be this handsome.
He winks.
Except Gojo Satoru, of course.
.
.
.
Gojo Satoru was sent to the mansion to wreak havoc.
And wreak havoc, he did.
In the four hours and forty-five minutes that he’d been here, he’d interrupted your rose ceremony and thrown out the rose that you’d been about to give poor Usami—and taken it for himself. Not a shred of apology, he’d tucked it straight into his button-up pocket and winked at you.
Leaving the other man to whirl around at the producers that simply shrugged. Who was to say what Gojo Satoru did?
And you can’t deny it…that charm of his was irresistible.
You were sure that the viewers were loving this- in even less time, he’d picked a fight with Sukuna because of the long-standing rivalry between the two - something the producers had likely known just to stir the pot even more. According to what the skater boy had whispered in your ear, it was because the two had been battling it out for the title of TC Candler’s #1 Most Handsome Man for the last few years now.
One year it’d be Sukuna. Next it’d be Gojo.
The next they’d get absolutely washed by Zayn Malik and would have to lick their wounds and battle it out over second place.
It all left you a little dizzy, if you’re being honest.
And sure enough- after a hectic few hours of introduction between the new bombshell and the rest of the contestants - during which you’d seen more fists flying than small talk - Gojo finally managed to pull you away for a chit-chat.
He stuck his tongue out at the other men as he dragged you by hand, pulling you into the cosy gazebo outside—the one with the creeping vines up its pillars, and shutters for if you wanted privacy. Speaking of, it gave you way…way too much privacy…
And soon enough he’s pulling you into his arms, you’re crashing your lips into his in a searing kiss.
Having kicked the camera men outside, they could only see just the faintest shadows of the two of you inside - before Gojo’s dragging you down to the fucking floor like an animal—helping you tear through your panties n’ sticking his fat cock inside.
The crown of his reddened tip was burning hot, streaming out precum that sticks to your inner thighs in heavenly layers- he’s sucking in a breath as he fits his first inch inside. “Oh.” Maw dropping breathlessly - you think that perhaps for the first time in his twenty-eight years, Gojo Satoru shuts himself up. Low. “Oh.”
Clammy head falling to the crook of your neck. White bangs sticking against the side of your throat.
He lets out a sensual few groans that seem to almost cling onto your skin - just like how his muscular body was right now. Long limbs nearly collapsing on top of you as Gojo’s stutterin’ his gleaming shaft inside a few more inches—“Oh- ohhhh, fuck. Do you h-hear that?” Voice cracking towards the end of that sentence.
“Hear what?” Your brows furrow.
And Gojo’s snowy brows knit even deeper - more confused than you by what you seemingly couldn’t hear—how could you not hear it? “You- you seriously don’t…?” And those toned hips of his reel a few inches backwards, draggin’ the zig-zagging lines of his veins along your tightened channel- ever-so-slightly before thundering back in. “Hear it- now?” He asks, strangely out-of-breath. The pupils in his ice-blue eyes blown wide. The breaths emanating deeply from his chest.
Though his sheer desperation only leaves you more confused, “I…”
“You s-still don’t hear it—?”
As if he’s trying to prove his point, he’s grabbing ahold of one side of your hips- the manicured nails upon his left hand digging into your clammy flesh. Thrusts growing more emboldened. Gojo’s connecting his body with yours until he doesn’t know where his starts and yours ends—gripping onto every inch of you like adhesive coats your body.
His eyes lazily fail at keeping shut every time you’re clampin’ your tight pussy around him. A thin trickle of perspiration lines the side of his face, and once he’s finally able to veer his gaze to meet yours- you’re swearing that it’s as though his pupils have suddenly turned into hearts.
Something dazed and drunken in his gaze, “Can you…”
Barely able to finish his thought let alone his sentence.
“The only thing m’hearing right now is that you’re- fuck-” Gasping between the roughening and roughening rams of his hips—he pistons his swollen cock inside until your walls are bulging at the size of him. Swerving n’ swerving it into every single sweet spot inside you.
Almost as though Gojo didn’t even need to try - he’s discovering your g-spot after only a few more determined strokes. And just the sheer force of him pinpointing that cute lil’ bundle of nerves - whacking it - makes your thighs squeeeeeze around his waist. It makes your pussylips get crushed together under the sheer pressure of movement, letting out an audible squelch!
“That.”
Blinking through your tears, “What?”
“That-”
Gojo’s so excited that he’s running out of breath - almost as if he’d just run an entire marathon, and would run at least five more just to experience this again.
His red-hot tip smears aside your walls, scouring your insides like a hidden maze. You feel the exact moment that he’s bottoming out his long, entire length at the very back of your cunt—“There…” A thin ribbon of drool glides down the side of Gojo’s mouth, tone almost in tears.
He flinches-
The raw softness of your womb- it was almost too much. Gojo reaches his right hand down to spreeead open your pretty pussylips, opening you up like lotus petals for him, then rolling his thumb down on your neglected clit.
You’re moaning at the sparks of carnal pleasure wracking through you - and Gojo himself grins at the music: your gorgeous noises, the sound of the night, the way your cunt’s lettin’ out the most lecherous squelches as he eases his cock in and out.
“There- right then.” Gojo finally - finally - husks out after one particularly loud slurp! Looking up at him, only to feel a jolt go through you at something primal shifting beneath his gaze. “Can you hear her say my name?”
“Her…?” Dazedly asking, “Do you mean me—?”
“No.” Gojo stubbornly answers, “I mean her-”
And before you know it, he’s honing out a few more strikes at your poor g-spot. Until you were sure it’s bruised enough with the round circumference of his length - hard and fast.
It’s enough to make you bellow out a few more hoarse noises—before Gojo himself is letting go of your waist to clasp his slender fingers around your neck. The cold sensation of them sending thrills down your spine, he’s teasingly tightening his hold as he bores deep into your eyes with his nearly-glowing ones.
“Shush, sweetheart.” Gojo admonishes softly, “Let me show you- hear her?” And it’s only after a few seconds you’re realizing that…her really meant your sopping wet pussy. Namely the lewd noises that you’re creating from it- just that wet. “Hear the way she’s whimpering? And mewling? And yowling?”
You yourself were struggling to get a single word out when he’s holding onto you like that. “Y-yes—”
“Well all that pretty noise is her…” He trails off, listening to a few more syllables of your pussy. “-screaming my name.”
Jaw dropping. “Your…”
“Mhm.”
Thin fingertips leaving marks.
He continues, “She’s been beggin’ for me to fuck her ever since- hah, ever since I got here.” And without a single warning, he’s toying with your clit and ultimately pinching it. “I know she’s been thinking about me—hah, shirtless. I know she’s been thinking about being under me, over me-” An almost wolfish expression taking over his face, “All on my face until I can’t breathe-”
“S-Satoru—!”
“Oh yeah, that’s exactly how your pussy’s saying it.”
You’re smacking Gojo’s bicep for that, and he merely chuckles.
“I’m just saying~” The motions of his thumb then start taking a more…interesting turn. And you have to tilt your head down to get a proper look at what he was doing - Gojo’s moving so fast that his digits were nearly nothing but frenzied, feverish blur between your legs. “That’s exactly…”
He himself couldn’t keep up.
Just too enraptured by the swervin’ and swoopin’ movements—the way his fingers had to quirk just right when he’s spelling out a repeated S-A-T-O-R-U.
S-A-T-O-R-U.
S-A-T-O-R-U.
S-A-T-O-R-U.
Both in Japanese and English.
Looking up at you through his curtained white bangs, “What’s that spell—?”
“Satoru—” It would’ve tumbled out of your mouth regardless of whether he asked or not, and you’re sure he knows.
“Exactly.” He responds.
You look on in gaped speechlessness as he flashes you that award-winning grin. The last thing you’re seeing before your high floods you in bursts- nothing like the torrential waves of dopamine, or the hills or relaxation that’d pass by you during your other highs.
This one was taking you over.
This one was zapping every atom of your being and leaving it charged.
“Sh-shit, Toru—” Hiccuping, your nails drag red, red lines down the plane of his shoulders. They’re standing out stark, and you’re hit with the strange feeling that he’d be the type to show them off during his next photoshoot - “It feels so good, Toru-”
“Heh, you’re welcome.”
Babbling out stupidly- the way he elongated every single peak left your mind heated. “Y-you could at least pretend to have some humility.”
“Humility? Don’t know her.” He winks, “You’re my only gal, sweetheart.”
Grumbling, “I better be…”
“Now why’d you hafta go and say something so cute…” You’re still seeing white from the pure shockwaves of your high- “Because that’s only gonna make me cum.” When Gojo himself throws his head back and cums inside. Loooooong and deep slashes at the back of your cunt, he draws numerous lines of white that dribble all the way down your channel then.
Ending up frothed between your shiverin’ legs.
The glistening layers of it smear n’ make your entangled bodies slip.
Jostling you even further, making you feel the splashin’ of his clingy sap inside you. More and more. More and more and more—no matter how many wads Gojo’s fucking inside- he just can’t seem to get enough of you—
“Because no one else can fuck you like Gojo Satoru can.”
Just the seven previous men and this bombshell left in the mansion.
Who would you even pick at this rate?
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - One-on-one.
“My name is Higuruma Hiromi, I’m 33.” Deep voice. Deeper eyes. There was a certain handsomeness to Higuruma that made it hard to look away - perhaps it was the dark features - that nose, the intelligent twinkle behind his eyes.
Perhaps it was the fact that he was dressed to the nines in his smart, black suit.
Or perhaps it was that air of confidence around him - nothing of the outward flashiness that most of the other contestants boasted. Something quieter. Something that had the edges of his pouty lips quirking, as though he already knows he’s won this season…he just won’t admit it yet.
For the viewers’ experience, of course.
He cocks his head slightly to the side and sighs, “I’m an attorney at my own law firm. I enjoy long baths and even longer debates, I’m looking for someone that can indulge me in both of these things.”
“And why are you here, Higuruma-san?”
“Because some interns of mine thought that it’d be funny to sign me up.” He chuckles softly to himself, “They’re mad- of course, perhaps I’m more mad to actually be here.”
“In the long run, Higuruma-san?”
“Ah…” He takes the time to think, eyes drifting over to the screen replaying footage of you - he’s already heard some of the other men gossiping amongst themselves in the waiting room about just how beautiful you are. And he hates to admit it when someone’s right, but he can’t deny it—they were fucking right. “I guess I’m looking for my wife.”
His eyes never miss yours on the screen.
The producer probes once more, camera angles shifting to accommodate for his intense staring match. “And do you think that you’ll find that?”
“I think I already might have.”
.
.
.
The audience had been curious about the hotshot lawyer from Tokyo.
“H-Hiromi, I’m ngh- cumming again…”
And so had you.
It’s been a string of more one-on-one dates that the producers had arranged prior to the finale where you had to choose…your future husband. Fuck- at this point you were wondering whether you couldn’t just have them all. And though the dark-haired lawyer had made it this far, he hadn’t featured in too many of the episodes—that is, until a recent edit of his B-roll footage had gone absolutely viral online - quite to the distaste of one particular white-haired model.
Clips of him laid back in a bathtub - suit still on. Clips of him slamming his gavel down.
And so, of course, they’d rushed to bring the two of you together to raise viewership—lo and behold you found yourself sneaking off to the couples’ suite after a romantic spa date. Escaping all the cameras - shutting those hungry lenses behind the door - it didn’t take long for the man to corner you against the rose petal-covered bed and bend you into the meanest mating press that you’ve ever even heard of.
Though Higuruma might’ve seemed all cool and composed on the outside- he was drilling his rock-hard cock into you like a fucking madman.
Thick and throbbing. Thrust after thrust after thrust-
“Fuck—” He snarls something primal from the back of his throat, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. Hoarse, sensual grunts leave him after every battering ram.
His skin was still damp from all the hours prior- when you’d been riding Higuruma’s face silly.
And even now, you could see the slight sheen of slick clinging onto his handsome features. Without thinking twice, you’re reaching up and swipin’ away some of the remnant excess, which immediately makes him snap his head down with a low trundle. “Fuck, don’t act so sweet, sugar.”
You huff, “M’not acting-”
Before you’re immediately getting cut off by the slam! of his round, reddened tip on your cervix. Barely reeling from the sheer pressure of it- before Higuruma reaches somewhere above your head - at the clothes that you’d discarded hours prior at the start of the night - and produces his favorite black tie.
You’re blinking up at him in slight confusion.
To which he doesn’t say much - he doesn’t say anything at all, really. Without a single word, Higuruma loops the soft silk of the tie around your wrists, and he’s tightening it into a knot that your muddled mind barely computes—tying you up.
It’s too late once you’re realizing- no matter how much you tug, you’re left unable to move. At your sultry mercy before the man - exactly how you wanted to be.
“S’not handcuffs, but it’ll have to do.” He mutters to himself.
“And why would you want me in handcuffs?”
“Because act sweet t’me one more time and you’ll be walking out of this suite pregnant, angel.” And you can’t believe it—the ever-eloquent Higuruma Hiromi was slurrin’ and babbling because of your cunt. “Why else?”
“O-oh…”
You snark back, “And what if I want that?”
“Well, you don’t deserve that.” He counters, “You’re a guilty girl.”
Squirming- he runs a long finger of his down the crevice of your pussylips. Just the very tip of it teasin’ in-between, uuuup and down, uuuup and down until you’re restless. And you can’t even do anything because of the ruthless restraints that he’d tied around your wrists.
“G-guilty for…?”
Higuruma doesn’t answer instantly.
He’s curling his dominant hand around the ribbons of fabric that were decorating your hands.
Cold fingers grazing your own- you’re just about wondering what Higuruma was about to do right then and there. But just then, he’s tightening his hold and draaaagging your body down.
As though you weighed nothing.
Higuruma’s hidden biceps bulge ever-so-slightly as he’s manhandling you down, down, down—onto his thickened cock. The silken bedsheets bunch up around your waist, and the bedsprings creak at the way you’re being thrown about like a ragdoll-
This rough angle makes his globular tip maze even deeper inside of you- burrowing a circular bruise at the very bottom of your pussy. And you’re gasping—you’d be clawing at Higuruma’s handsome back had it not been for this damn tie.
Almost as though sensing your desperation, the man looming before you huffs out in laughter. It fans your face in a scorching breeze - you think you can feel the smoke and need in his breath. The addiction to white-knuckling your cuffs and hauling you down after every thrust pushes you up, up, upwards- “Count one: seduction”
“S-seduction?” Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull.
“Count two: temptation of a working attorney.” He lists off. The slightest smile lifts up the edges of his lips, “Count three: temptation of a working judge.”
“You’re the-”
He sighs as though this was just another day in the court for him - though if this was the type of court he led, you’d be showing up for jury duty everyday. “Count four: perjury.”
“Perjury?” You gape, “When have I ever lied to the court?”
Higuruma cocks his head, “And when you told me you weren’t acting sweet?” That rounded tip of his lingers where your g-spot was, “I know how filthy you are, angel, no need to put on an act…”
“I—fuck, please…”
“Count five: greed.” Higuruma finally ends off, and you’re probing into his darkened eyes for clarification. “You seriously think you deserve to be fucked pregnant by me, sugar?”
“Y-yes…” You’re barely able to mumble out.
And he merely scoffs out a
And he scoffs out a slightly mean bout of laughter, as if he’d expected for you to say that. Oh, how he’d expected you to say that. But instead of responding to that directly, Higuruma’s openin’ up your sopping wet pussylips.
The hand between your legs bears your stuffed entrance for him to examine. Those intelligent eyes of his twinkle as he’s taking in the plushness of your swollen folds, the way your hole leaked even when stuffed to the brim with his fat cock - struggling to take him, yet still yearning for more. And most of all…he’s admiring the way your cute clit twitches- “Count one…” Higuruma announces with no warning—and even less of a warning is given before he’s planting a solid spank on your clit. “Guilty.” Even harder than he might’ve done with that gavel of his.
You’re surging up on the bed due to the sheer shockwaves coursing through you. “Fuck- fuck, you’re just-”
“Count two—”
“Shit-”
Barely giving you the time to compute before his hand comes slammin’ down once more. “Guilty.”
Tears stream down your cheeks, “Hiromi, I’m going to cum-”
“Count three-” And it wasn’t like he couldn’t hear you - he just refused to respond until his judicial duties were completed. Higuruma was a man of the law, after all. And surely it was that discipline that led him to spank your cunt two more times, “Guilty. Count four- guilty.”
Your thighs were shaking with your impeding high, “I-I’m seriously going to-”
“Count five-” The fifth, final punishment. “-guilty.”
And you’re crashing against the waves of your high - it feels as if you’re floating on air. On clouds. On the white-hot pleasure that Higuruma was fucking into you.
His pace doesn’t falter for a single second. The plush edge of his shaft probin’ into you in and in and in—Higuruma knows exactly which nerve-filled spots you wanted him to push. Exactly where they were. And he doesn’t do so immediately…but once he’s glissading his lengthy cock inside your cunt, he sure does press his pointed tip hard into wherever he can reach.
Not quite agonizingly teasing, but not quite giving your guilty self what you wanted.
Somewhere along the way, you’re feeling his gooey white sap fill you up as well. He lets out a choked-up groan as he floods the lining of your cervix- “Guilty…haaaaah, on all counts.” The sheer volume of him forms a little puddle there, “And I sentence you to…”
“Y-yes…?”
“Hmmm—” He pretends to think, though the lewd humor in his tone told you that Higuruma already knew. The full stop at the end of his duties- he thwacks! his palm down upon your cunt once more, “How about five more rounds? One for each count- hah.”
You’re letting your head fall to the side, where the curtains of the suite were just barely cracked to reveal pinkish-yellow lighting filtering inside. It was morning.
You weren’t making it out alive for the rest of the season.
So, viewers, who's getting the last rose as your husband?
TOJI
NANAMI
GETO
CHOSO
SUKUNA
INO
GOJO
HIGURUMA
Voting ended onApr 7
A/N. MAYHAPS have a special treat for whoever wins. Can you tell my best friend made me watch Single's Inferno with her-
(MDNI) which pet name makes you clench the hardest - ft. Nanami
"Y-you're not gonna finger me properly? No? Okay…"
Taking a deep, shuddering breath in, you tried not to fuck your hips downwards so that you could chase the pleasure Nanami's fingers refused to give you. The blonde was half-sprawled on top of you, barely hovering with one firm bicep framing the side of your head.
How long had it been since he had come home from work and initiated spicy time with you, as you liked to call it? One hour? Two?
Time was nothing but a blur as Nanami worked two thick, deft fingers inside of you — rolling the pad of his thumb over your pert clit in tight circles.
But he had no intention of making you cum. Not yet, for he had a little experiment he wanted to try out first.
"Let me try something," he murmured, fingers still buried knuckle-deep inside of your cunt.
You nodded, brows knitting in the middle. But then Nanami spoke once more, his voice taking on a low timbre that sent heat rushing to your cheeks.
"Baby."
Your pussy clenched — just a little — around your husband's fingers. As expected. Nanami chuckled, mentally logging down the exact pressure that had squeezed at his pruning digits.
"Love?" he asked this time, thin brow raised.
You shook your head, lips tightening into a thin line so that you could suppress the breathy sounds threatening to leave you. Your body gave you away, however, giving Nanami another squeeze — harder this time.
"Stop," you whispered, your pussy now beginning to thoroughly coat his fingers in a glossy sheen of your slick.
"That's not quite right," Nanami observed, shifting himself upwards ever so slightly. His lips were against your ear now, voice low.
"Sweetie."
Clench.
"Honey?"
Squeeze.
"…darling?"
At that, your body tensed, pussy fluttering wildly around his fingers. Nanami was quick to notice the way your lips parted, a chorus of gasps and pleas leaving you. Then, your hand came up, tightly gripping Nanami's wrist in a desperate attempt to get him to move.
"There it is."
"Please, Ken. Move your fingers. I think 'm— I feel like I'm close."
"Already?"
You shook your head, face screwing slightly in embarrassment, which prompted the man to chuckle.
"Ah, I suppose I've been mean enough, darling." Nanami's voice lowered, dropping an octave as he punctuated his words with a firm curl of his fingers inside of you. He watched as your back arched, both of your breathing turning heavier when he came to his final conclusion.
Your favourite pet name he had for you was darling, and there was no doubt about it.
And so Nanami began fingering you, properly now. It was the most talkative he had ever been, with lips nipping against your ear as he talked you through the sudden burst of pleasure hitting you all at once.
"Oh, my darling," he crooned, voice smooth but laced with increasing hunger. "Is this too much? Do you like it when your husband coddles you like this?"
"Yesyesyes— wait, no. D-don't call me that—"
Nanami's fingers continued to stroke inside of you steadily, your arousal dripping down his wrist by now with each deliberate thrust. With each purred pet name sent your way, your walls squeezed involuntarily around him, before you could even register what he had just called you.
"Seems like your body— ah, you're squeezing again — knows what she needs."
A series of pecks came your way, landing on your lips and cheek and whatever bit of skin your teasing husband could reach.
He didn't even wait for you to respond, too engrossed in making you feel good. The pressure on your clit returned, Nanami's thumb working overtime to draw out every ounce of pleasure he could bring you.
"Close, darling? I can feel it." He swallowed, now lowly grunting into your ear. The slight ache in Nanami's wrist was worth it as he angled it down, stroking against that one spongy spot inside of you that had you positively writhing against him.
"Go on, make a mess all over your husband."
With Nanami's loving words of encouragement, you did — letting go until the breath left your lungs in heaving pants. The mess only grew wetter, soaking the sheets below as you came with a cry.
He could only watch with a look of utmost devotion on his face, grinding his palm against your clit in an attempt to wring out your orgasm to the fullest. And when Nanami pulled his fingers out of you with a squelch, webs of your slick glued his fingers together — snapping wetly when he pulled them apart.
"I don't think my work is done quite yet," he sighed, situating himself between your spread legs.
With two large hands on either one of your thighs, he squeezed — coaxing them onto his hips.
Something prodded you down below, hard to the touch as it moved up and down obscenely slow. Nanami gasped somewhat sharply, aching tip drooling out a fat drop of precum.
"W-what else could you possibly do now, you fiend?"
"Oh, I think you know," he muttered breathily, the sound of a belt unbuckling following shortly after.
18+ mdni ✰ .ᐟ offering nanami your mouth as stress relief
muffled voices sound through the door that’s been shut for almost the entire weekend.
nanami has been swamped with work. back to back conference calls and presentations being the only things he’s had time for these past few days.
he’s been living like a hermit, stowed away in his office, only emerging for the occasional meal or bathroom break. and each time you see him, his dark circles look deeper than the last.
you’re supportive of his work, of course, but you worry about him— your sweet, overworked husband.
you huff, chin resting in your hand as you sit alone in the kitchen, pushing the food you cooked for dinner around your plate. nanami does so much for you, and you wish you could just take all his stress away.
brows furrowed in concentration, you rack your brain for some kind of answer. and within a minute you’re rummaging through your closet until you find a little babydoll top and a matching pair of panties.
nanami hasn't seen these before. you bought them as a surprise for your upcoming anniversary, but you figure now is as good a time as any to show him.
you gingerly reach for the door to the office, turning the knob slowly and pushing it open just enough to peek around it before slipping inside.
a cluster of voices are still coming from the computer as nanami’s eyes shoot up to you making your way over to him.
“everything…” he trails off as his gaze scans your outfit, eyes lingering on your chest where your pretty tits are all pushed up on display for him. “everything alright, princess?”
“mhmm, just miss you, kento.” you push his chair back to make room for you to slot yourself between his legs. “haven’t been able to see you all weekend,” you pout, sinking to your knees.
“darling, what are you doing?” he asks, his tone laced with warning. you know how much he cares about his work, but you also know how little he can resist you.
you take full advantage of that knowledge when your hands glide up the insides of his muscled thighs.
“i'm taking care of you.” you flash him an innocent smile as your hands spread his legs apart before climbing higher to unbuckle his belt.
a large hand grabs your wrist, stalling your movements. “i’m on a call,” nanami protests. though it hardly seems like he means it considering he still loosens his grip and lifts his hips for you, allowing you to slide his pants down just enough to free his already stiff cock.
you look up at him as you wrap a hand gently around his base, your tongue lolling out to give the flushed head a few kitten licks. tongue swiping along that little slit, you can taste the salty precum that’s already been dribbling out as nanami grunts softly above you.
a heavy palm comes to rest atop your head, a sign of his approval and a silent urge to continue.
you drag your tongue up the underside of his length, trailing along the bulging vein that makes him twitch in your grasp. he's always been so sensitive.
opening wider you take him into your hot mouth, little by little, breathing steady through your nose until you feel his tip hit the back of your throat. your lashes flutter and you look up at him with those pleading eyes, all glossy and desperate before you slowly pull yourself off of him with a soft pop!
you're stroking him lazily, your grip just light enough for nanami to roll his hips, trying to get more from you. but you don't give him anything else. just sit there teasing him, swiping your thumb along his slit every few pumps because you know that drives him crazy.
and you can see his composure slipping.
“want me to keep going, kenny?” you coo, giving him a light squeeze.
he sucks in a breath, eyelids fluttering as his words escape him with a sigh, “yes, sweets, keep going.”
“and after your meeting? what then?”
“i’m all yours, darling,” nanami groans, his voice strained as you tap the tip of his cock against your tongue.
“promise?”
“promise—” nanami’s barely able to get the word out before you’re wrapping your lips around him again and burying his cock in your throat.
you flatten your tongue, gliding it along his shaft whenever you bob your head. the slippery muscle flicks against his frenulum each time you pull back, rewarding you with a deep groan.
and you can't help the way your mouth waters even more when he hits the back of your throat, spit threatening to spill out the corners of your mouth. quiet gags and gurgles come from beneath nanami’s desk and the lewd sounds coupled with the sight of his gorgeous girl on her knees before him has nanami's head falling back.
the button down shirt he's wearing is being pushed to its limits, the fabric straining whenever nanami tenses, his biceps flexing and chest heaving with deep breath.
“just like that, shit—” nanami grunts, hips bucking when you gag again, your throat constricting around his length.
his body is already telling you how good you feel with each stutter of his hips and pulse of his cock on your tongue.
your jaw aches. no matter how many times you throat him, you can't get used to his size— he's huge.
but you also never get tired of hearing nanami grunt out those sweet praises to you, reminding you anyways of how well you’re doing for him, how good you're making him feel, and how pretty you look with those tears in your eyes.
"thaaat's it, just like that darling," he pants above you, unaware of anything other than the feeling of your tongue swirling around his tip, your throat swallowing around his length. "always such a good girl, making me feel so good."
you moan around him in response, bobbing your head faster as one of your soft hands moves to cup his balls. you fondle them gently, squeezing and rolling, just how he’s told you to do before.
his breathing grows heavier, a steady crescendo of pants and grunts escaping him when–
“nanami, what do you think about that?”
his coworkers fall silent after, patiently awaiting his opinion on something, and you’re sure that he has no idea what that something is.
you know you shouldn’t find it amusing, but the corners of your lips twitch as you hear him scrambling above you to un-mute himself. you take the opportunity to hollow your cheeks, sucking him in tighter, toying with him.
he shoots you an inconspicuous glare, the hand on your head pressing down firmly. he ignores you as you choke on his cock, lips sputtering around him, spit starting to trickle out of your mouth and your eyes watering.
his jaw is tight as he offers the most generic reply he can think of, “s-sure, sounds good.” and then he's muted again.
both hands now rest on either side of your head, keeping you in place.
“such a little minx, trying to get me in trouble?” his tone is clipped, stern.
you try to shake your head but you can't.
nanami won't let you. instead, his hips buck up into your mouth, shoving his length impossibly deeper down your throat.
he starts slowly, rolling his hips to make sure you’re able to take him. and when he can tell you've adjusted to him, he moves faster, harder.
he’s fucking himself into your mouth, using your pretty puffy lips as his own tool for pleasure as he chases down his climax, trying to finish before his meeting does.
your hands fly to his thighs for stability but you let him use you, a familiar warm wetness pooling between your thighs.
this is exactly what you wanted.
you love your sweet husband, of course, but there’s a special kind of excitement that comes from when he gets like this. when his near-infinite patience with you finally snaps and he gets rougher with you.
“just couldn’t– couldn’t wait, huh? had to interrupt my work?”
he's so mean, the way he's bullying the back of your throat, no doubt leaving it bruised. his thrusts are brutal, but nanami knows you'll take it.
he knows you can handle him even when you whimper softly, glistening tears slipping from your waterline. even when you’re breathing heavily through your nose, glancing up at him with your brows furrowed, pure need written all over your expression.
nanami can’t help the loud moan that tumbles out from his chest at the sight of his perfect wife, so eager for him, so lovingly allowing him to fuck her pretty face.
he doesn’t last much longer.
a few more sloppy thrusts and you feel nanami's rhythm finally waver before he stills. he keeps his cock stuffed deep inside your throat when he cums with a guttural groan, his hot, salty, release spilling onto your tongue. you swallow it all, determined not to waste a drop.
a moment later nanami pulls you off of him, large hands moving to caress your cheeks, wiping away the mascara that smudged under your waterline as you both catch your breath.
his touch is gentle, soft, but the look in his eyes makes your core burn when he curtly dismisses you.
“go wait for me, i’m nowhere near done with you.”
you always knew what nanami needed, and now work was the last thing on his mind.
this is an edited repost of one of my old nanami fics :p for the record he has minty breath and white teeth here
big thanks to @coralbae for some of the ideas here ily twin.
header :: I Became the Genuine Love Interest of Mr. Segawa Who Has a Huge Attitude and Body
► Nanami Kento
"You've got enough restraint to put it in me while it's soft, right?
"By 'it', I assume you are referring to my … cock?"
You nodded.
And it was precisely this question that led you to Nanami's current predicament. He was currently guiding his tip into your cunt, having been roped into such a fruitless exercise of his self-restraint. The blonde gave in quicker than you had anticipated — but then again, Nanami was incredibly easy when it came to you.
"Hurry, Ken," you tittered, spreading your legs wide without an ounce of shame. "I want to feel it get hard inside of me."
Nanami inhaled sharply through his nose, screwing his eyes shut and willing for his cock to stay limp. The sight of you spread out so sinfully before him, pussy glistening, was enough to have his cock jerking in his fist. "A moment, darling."
An impatient noise left you. You had taken it upon yourself to prep without your husband, knowing he'd get hard during the process. All he had to do was put it in, but even that seemed too demanding of a task for poor Nanami.
Propping yourself on your elbow, you nudged at his knee with your foot. "If you get hard, it'll only take longer to do what I want."
He muttered something unintelligible as you lied back down, making quick work of slipping inside of you.
Your lashes fluttered, and the way your pussy quivered at the intrusion was enough to have Nanami's knuckles whitening as he pushed in. The gradual warmth that engulfed his flaccid cock was unbearable, and his ability to hold back was soon dwindling its way into nothing.
"Just let it get h-hard, that's it. You don't need to fuck me yet."
"That's the problem," he rasped, "I want to make love to you."
You shook your head and tried to ignore the way you needed your husband to plough into you and make the bed shake. Your voice was shaky when you replied, pussy squeezing periodically — which certainly made the task that much more difficult for both of you. "Stay still."
Nanami braced his arms on either side of your head, sweat already beading against his hairline. His pulse had quickened considerably, thudding in time with yours as the blood slowly rushed down to his groin. "S-shit—"
"I can feel it, Ken," you laughed breathily, running your fingers up Nanami's forearms, until you were holding onto his tense biceps. "It's getting so big."
Cursed with a filthy wife with an even filthier tongue, it appeared.
Your husband was a gentleman, and he didn't want to do anything that'd compromise your safety. Yet with the sight of you laying under him, hair splayed out and cheeks flushed — all Nanami wanted to do was fold you in half and have his way with you.
Luckily for him, he was fully hard. You felt it all, watching with lidded eyes as the vein on his temple throbbed with each twitch of him inside of you. Then came the precum. a slight ticklish feeling as Nanami began leaking his arousal into you.
"Please tell me I can move now, my love. I-I don't think I can handle—"
"Move, Ken," you murmured coquettishly, palm on your stomach from where Nanami had stuffed you to the brim. Nanami was well-endowed soft, but now that he was hard? You were glad that you had prepared yourself beforehand.
And so Nanami did what you asked, driving his hips forward with a guttural groan in a way that'd had your legs shaky for days to come.
► Gojo Satoru
When Satoru said he wanted a hotdog, you didn't think he meant this — your shorts shucked down to your knees as you laid on your stomach, ass spread by two large hands and a soft cock nestled in between.
"Genuinely, what the fuck are you doing?"
Satoru shrugged, digging his long fingers into your rippling flesh after mounting you. "Said I wanted a hotdog. Now I have a hotdog."
You breathed in. You breathed out. Looking over your shoulder, you glared at your boyfriend — who was currently interrupting your self-care time. A nail file was idle between your fingers as you tried to comprehend where Satoru got the audacity from. "So you're just going to sit on me. Like that. Dick between my ass?"
"Yeah, nice 'n warm between here."
"So is an oven," you muttered dryly, prompting Satoru to slap your ass.
"An oven can't feel me get hard between its cheeks," he retorted playfully, wiggling his eyebrows. So that was what it was all about. He wanted you to feel him get hard against you? Odd but alas, in character. So you went back to filing your nails, seemingly not caring as to what Satoru did next.
He placed two large hands on the side of each rounded asscheek, pressed them inwards until the pressure around his cock intensified. Satoru couldn't hold back the plethora of breathy groans and curses that left him, too busy indulging in the way your ass seemed to mould to the shape of him.
"Really enjoying yourself there, huh?" You mumbled, unable to stop yourself from feeling a spark of arousal at the desperation of your boyfriend. He was pathetic — and a large part of you enjoyed that.
Satoru whimpered, nodding even though you couldn't see. Experimentally, he rolled his hips once, hissed at the dry friction, and felt his cock chub up at the same time.
You felt it too, the way the weight between your ass grew heavier with each frantic thrust. Had Satoru not been preoccupied with fucking the seam of your rear, he would've seen the way your pussy was slick with a steady gathering of your wetness.
But alas, Satoru was an ass man — and nothing was going to stop him from dry humping your butt and glazing them with a thick sheen of his cum.
"G-gosh, you're disgusting," you stammered out, almost panting in time with Satoru as he spat down to make the glide more wet. He ignored the way you jolted at the warm feeling, too busy lost in the wet plaps of his balls against the curve of your ass. "Like a rabid mutt."
"Y-yeaah, this mutt's gonna blow a load over your ass any second," Satoru chuckled, half crazed. You cursed, gripping onto the sheets and body rocking in time with his. It was obvious his orgasm was coming any second, and you had no time to warn him not to cum on you but—
SPURT
Satoru came — thick, messy ropes that shot out from between your ass, all over the small of your back and halfway up your silk camisole.
…
"Oops."
"You're licking that up, by the way. Asshole."
► Ryomen Sukuna
"Ryo. Ryomen. Sukun—ah!"
"Out with it, brat," he snarled, swatting you on the rear and planting you onto his lap. The King of Curses was sprawled out on his throne, his beloved bride making it her mission to make his life hell yet again. You grinned at him, giving his stomach mouth an affectionate nudge with your fingers.
"Was just wondering…"
"Nothing good ever comes out of that."
You slapped at one of his meaty biceps, tutting at his words. "Shut up. I was just wondering which one of your cocks get hard first."
…
"I do not know," Sukuna muttered, his brows furrowed in thought. Usually, he did not care about such trivial matters. At the end of the day, both would end up inside of you eventually, and noting which one stood at attention first was nothing short of necessary. Yet he found himself wondering…
"Are you suggesting we find out?
You nodded. "I'll hold them both and we can see."
Sukuna tutted at that, his two lower hands coming down to squeeze at your waist. "Do you really think that would be enough to turn me on?"
"Of course!" you cooed, poking your brute of a husband's nose. "Was it not only yesterday you grew hard at the sight of me in your robes?"
There was no arguing with that — your words were true, and as much as Sukuna liked to play the role of an aloof husband, there was a certain allure that you had that brought you two together in the first place, eventually leading to your marriage.
"Fine. You may try."
With a celebratory cheer, you reached down and parted Sukuna's robes. He didn't bother with undergarments, seeing as though it was appropriate to assert his dominance whenever he could (even if it meant scaring his servants with the two weighty cocks that swung between his legs like a pendulum).
Immediately, your left hand found his lower cock, and the right found the upper one. Even when he was soft, Sukuna was inhumanly large. It was the reason why prep with you could last hours. Seeing you writhe from consecutive orgasms was pleasing to the curse, but had he not been thorough with you — you would certainly not be able to take him.
Your fingers barely met as you held his flaccid cocks, marvelling at how daunting they were outside of you. Sukuna watched with his four lazy eyes, ignoring the way the tips of his ears burned at the feeling of his wife holding him like it was nothing. Then, the lower cock twitched first. Once, twice, three times.
"Oh, my," you whispered, watching as the upper cock began quivering too. Sukuna was quickly becoming aroused, eyes averted as he rested his chin on a fist. The scowl on his face was weak as you maintained your grip on him, so carefully attentive. You didn't want to miss it — which cock was able to stand at attention first at the simple feeling of your palm cradling his cocks.
"Not a word," he grunted. But his thighs situated themselves further apart, a lazy manspread that gave you more room to admire him. The plump veins snaking down his cocks were deepening in hue, much like his twin tips that were oozing out translucent precum.
Until the lower cock stood stiff first, the one above following not long after — true to biology. Sukuna snarled when you let out an astounded noise. "I suppose that makes sense. After all, the bottom cock is the easiest to get to… maybe…"
"Stop your rambling and fix this, woman. You started it, so you must deal with the aftermath."
"Gladly."
► Toji Fushiguro
Having an oral fixation was a bummer when there was no one around to satiate it. Fortunately for you, Toji had picked up on your little quirk as he liked to call it. The two of you quickly came to a little arrangement, where he was willing to let you use him whenever you saw fit in exchange for a pair of your underwear every week. You didn't even need to ask.
An expensive arrangement, but it was worth it.
Toji had a drawer full of frilly panties ready to be ruined, and you had a way to keep your mouth occupied.
Like right now.
Your head was on your housemates lap, his lazy attention to the shitty movie playing out before you. The realisation was slow at first, but you could feel the emptiness in your mouth becoming more prominent as the minutes went by. It was all so overwhelming, causing you to fidget and swallow around nothing and stirring Toji in the process.
"You good down there?" He grunted, passing a large hand over your head to ruffle your hair somewhat affectionately.
You nodded — but your answer couldn't be further from the truth. Then, you sat up, eyeing Toji's crotch. Even while he was soft, there was a prominent curve of where his dick sat. It made your mouth water, and his previous words came back to you.
Whenever you deemed fit, use him.
Usually, you'd ask before helping yourself to what you needed. But right now? Words were failing you and Toji wasn't offering. So you gently tugged out his limp cock after lifting the elastic waistband of his shorts and laid closer to the man.
The word 'pretty' wasn't often used when it came to Toji. But there was something about Toji's cock that made you fawn ever so slightly. It was slightly tan, deepening in colour as you came closer to his plump tip. The girth was obscene, decorated in fat veins that you loved to prod at with your tongue whenever you had the chance to.
You pressed forward, giving it a small yet audible smooch before opening your mouth. The man grunted above you, still not getting hard as you slowly enveloped more of him into your throat. He wasn't small, coaxing you into relaxing as much as you could before you inevitably let out a gag.
The gentle sounds of sucking filled the room, your lips pursed and tongue lolled out, flat against the underside of Toji's weighty cock.
All you could think about was Toji, Toji, Toji — his scent musky and clouding your brain with the beginnings of arousal. Saliva built up steadily in the heat of your mouth, coating the length in a thin sheen.
"Shit— easy now."
Until your sucking grew frantic. Your thighs pressed together in a poor attempt to alleviate your need to get absolutely railed by the older man.
A harsh jerk of Toji's cock in your mouth caught your attention, and the salty taste of precum bloomed over your taste buds. Only then did your spit begin to bubble out from the corner of your lips, your suckling having grown far too sloppy to not elicit a boner.
Toji listened in as you breathed heavily out of your nose, balls tense with the urge to cum at the forefront of his mind. You were a mess when he looked down, seeing your eyes watery and webbed strings of spit and cum gluing your chin to his crotch.
You shook your head, throat gurgling wetly as you swallowed around him — around the cock that bulged your throat and kissed against the back of it. With each descent of your head, seeing as though you had started giving Toji a blowjob, he grew more erect.
Not only that, he was bigger too, until your hollow cheeks lost their shape and rounded the more he filled the empty space inside you.
"Nasty girl, bet you're wet down there. Aren't you?"
Toji knew you couldn't answer — after all, it was bad manners to talk when your mouth was full. He opted to lean over on his side, sliding a large hand under the waistband of your shorts and copping a feel instead.
Lo and behold, your wetness met his fingers, and the grin that lifted the scarred corner of Toji's lips was nothing short of hungry.
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