Okay heres my request, I swear to god thinking about this scenario has kept me awake many nights 😅 Can we get like a dubcon version of the Newt Syrup incident ending where Lucifer goes completely unhinged and like tapes F!MC's mouth shut/prevents her from being able to speak somehow so she can't give him a command to stop the effects. And he's so out of his mind that now he just cant hide just how much of a huge daddy kink he has. Rough, sadistic, maybe some choking too, little regard for MC
I wanted you long before them (LUCIFER X F!READER)
“hngh….” Another groan leaves Lucifer’s lips as he tries to keep his heart rate down. Being this bothered by a little bit of Newt Syrup was not on his schedule today and if he weren’t so consumed with his body’s desires, he would have already given an adequate punishment to his younger brother. The only condolence he has right now is the knowledge that Mammon is also suffering, “but not enough…” he mumbles to none other than himself. His head falls into his hands, long fingers combing through raven black hair as he tries to control his breathing. The control he spent millennia building up is slowly slipping through his fingers all because of one simple mistake. Of course he knows the effects of this syrup and under different circumstances, a demon might actually enjoy taking some of it to… heighten their own senses and desires, but losing control is never in Lucifer’s cards, not when he has to be on his best game, every day.
It also doesn’t help that you are still here. Well, not here, that would be wonderful. No. But you are in the house, wandering around and as much as Lucifer tries to ignore the soft sounds of your feet across his floors, it’s all he can focus on. What are you doing? Whom are you helping? Why aren’t you helping him? At least, if you finally command him, he can help you in bringing the others back to their normal selves.
That is… if you even want to bring them back.
Lucifer shakes his head, trying to get rid of the thought. It is bad enough that he has to fight for your attention with his brothers on a normal day, he doesn’t need to fight with them now, too. It is best if he stays here and lets the waves of desire crash through him like a tsunami crashes into a coast line, otherwise he might be crashing himself into you and Lucifer isn’t known to be a gentle lover. Having had his fair amounts of sexual partners over the centuries, he soon figured out that gentle love making is not something he likes to touch his toes in. Worshipping? Absolutely, but only in combination with a little pain. God, and how he loves inflicting it. He loves having complete and utter control over someone else. He is the one who decides what happens next. Will you be allowed to suck his cock, feeling his heavy balls slap against your chin as he face fucks you until he empties every last drop? Were you a good girl and will it lead to a nice tongue fuck in your tight little cunt, the same cunt who struggles to fit his thick length? Or does he get to use his hands to choke and slap your delicate skin, making you drift on the line between pleasure and insanity?
Either way, he needs to stop thinking about it. His cock is straining his pants, building a tent under his dark trousers. Father, what has he done to deserve this? What has he done to be denied the sweet juices of your fragile body beneath his? You’re so small. His body could engulf yours just by towering over you and he would praise you “good girl”, because that’s what you are for taking his extremes so well. But no. He’s not allowed to break you and he shouldn’t, but these dark thoughts have plagued his mind since long before Mammon made that stupid soup.
A knock on his door pulls him out of his thoughts and for a moment, he’s thankful for the little bit of silence in his head. That is, until he smells you. That sweet smell of femininity and innocence that has been plaguing him since the moment you waltzed into the Devildom. Whatever Lord Diavolo thought when he brought you here, literally throwing you into an arena full of lions, will forever be a mystery to him. Right now, he needs to get himself together though. Maybe you have come to finally release him of this agony. “Come in…” he breathes out hoarsely, loosening the tie around his neck and getting rid of it completely. His body feels so hot and he knows your presence won’t correct that. Loosening the first few buttons as well, he watches your small frame come into the room. His room. His territory. Lucifer is clawing at his own sanity, his brain battling with the need to protect you from himself and the need to have his way with you. Would you forgive him if he just had a little taste? If he lost control for just a moment?
“Lucifer…” God, his name sounds so intoxicating on your lips. Tell, are you just as enamored by the sound of his voice whispering your name? Before he can even find the strength in his vocal cords to pronounce it, you close the door behind you and move further into his space. “H-How are you feeling…?” you ask hesitantly, standing still on the other side of his desk. Lucifer is glad about the little bit of space between you, although his demon is screaming to just pull you in his lap. What would you even do? You couldn’t possibly think about overpowering him. He shakes his head softly, hoping you don’t see, “How am I supposed to be feeling, (Y/N)?” He grumbles, although he hadn’t exactly meant for it to come out that way.
And you have noticed. You have noticed his disheveled hair, his open buttons and the increase in breathing the minute you walked into Lucifer’s room. The Newt incident wasn’t exactly your fault, but seeing as everyone except you was out of their minds, you needed someone strong by your side and decided to pick up Lucifer as an ally, hoping that he would have more self control. Not that you would mind if he lost himself just a little bit. “I… uhm… yeah, I see how that was a dumb question.” You admit, glancing around his room before your eyes land back on him. Lucifer is watching you like a hawk. His face is stoic, trying to reveal as little of his inner turmoil as possible. You’re nervous and unsure, good. After all, you’re in a room with one of the strongest demons who’s only holding onto a thread of his self control. It’s stupid for you to be here, but then again, maybe you’re just as messed up as he is and maybe you even have similar thoughts to the ones he has.
“I was hoping that you… haven’t lost all control and maybe could help me… tame your brothers?” Lucifer stands up as soon as you finish your question, steadying himself against his desk. How dare you mention his brothers when you’re standing in front of him like this? His Avatar is wounded. What if he doesn’t want to hold onto that little bit of control any longer? He could live with you avoiding him afterward, at least he would have his desires fucked out of his system and could then continue to have a relatively normal life. “I haven’t lost control, (Y/N), yet.” he states, pushing off his desk and walking around it until he stands in front of you. His tall figure easily towers over your frame and red eyes seem to light up as they meet yours. “But you’re making it hard to keep holding onto control when you stand in front of me with your tiny body and pure innocence… control that once came so easily is slipping from my fingers, little one…” he continues and suddenly, a gloved hand moves to grab your arm, pulling and spinning you around until your back is pressed firmly against his muscled chest. The hand that was holding onto your arm is now wrapped around your waist, firmly holding you in place while his other gloved hand comes up to caress your cheek before clasping over your mouth, “and I think I will just let it slip.”
His voice resonates within your body, sending chills right through your bones. Lucifer is attractive, no questions asked, but he’s also forbidden. You try to push against him in order to get out of his hold, but you don’t stand a chance against a demon. “mmpfff…!” words aren’t coming out of your mouth, they can’t, and that is exactly what Lucifer wanted. Maybe he needed the push of the Newt syrup to take what he has been craving for months now: you in his claws. “Ssshh… you won’t need to use your words.” he purrs into your ear, pressing his front further into you. The demon wants to make sure you feel everything, from his broad chest to his strong arms, right to the hardness between his legs. Lucifer isn’t small by demon standards. He’s not hung like a bull, no.. not like Beel or Lord Diavolo, but don’t mistake that what he has is ‘small’.
Keeping your mouth shut with one hand, he moves almost too quickly to retrieve his tie which he pulled off earlier. Too quickly for you to even understand with your tiny brain. Before you know it, his tie is shoved between your lips and tied behind your head, effectively keeping you from forming any coherent words. “There…” he says, turning you around to face him again as he takes you in with his eyes. His hands are placed on both your arms, keeping them down to keep you from trying to untie his tie. “Be a good girl and don’t make this anymore difficult than it needs to be.” His Avatar is screaming at you to please fight him but you do the opposite. Instead of fighting him, you stand completely still, big eyes looking at him in confusion, arousal and… fear. And God, does that fire up his Avatar even more. Of course you’re scared, you should be. His cock twitches in his pants as he moves your arms above you, letting your shirt rise up a bit to reveal your stomach. A low growl escapes him as the first bit of skin is shown and this is definitely the moment where Lucifer lets go of everything and lets himself be consumed by the thought of taking you.
Keeping your hands held above your head with one hand, he brings the other one up to his face to pull off his glove, revealing sharpened nails. Lucifer hovers somewhere between his demon and human form, using some of the perks of his demon, such as his sharper nails, to start freeing you of your clothes. “You’re such a good girl, (Y/N)” he praises “, and you’re not dumb… so why did you think it would be a good idea to come to me, knowing I have the same syrup in my system?” It’s not a genuine question. Matter of fact, he couldn’t care less why you came here, he’s just glad that this is his opportunity to take your human innocence for himself. Your shirt is gone, leaving you in a black bra, which he is staring at now. Your chest rises and falls and Lucifer takes note of your fragile body once more. It would be so easy to do with you as he pleases, but he is no beast, at least not in that sense. His claws also rip through the fabric of your bra, leaving you half naked to his eyes as you stare at him.
Your breathing is starting to pick up, big eyes searching for his red eyes and trying to find any ounce of help in them. But God, his expression is clouded by an amount of lust and desire for you that it puts even Asmodeus to shame. His eyes shine so brightly that you can see your reflection in the red, embarrassment pushing through you as you see your perky nipples. When did you start to get so hot and bothered? Lucifer takes in a deep breath, letting out a groan when he exhales, “Demons have an excellent sense of smell, did you know?” he informs you, his cock twitching in his pants and making him involuntarily buck his hips against yours. Pathetic, he scolds himself. “and right now I can smell how excited you are for Daddy’s cock.”
You let out a groan of your own at his words. Fuck, yes, yes… you can’t deny it, clenching your legs together at his words. The feeling of his cock earlier was enough to have your cunt clenching. Did he make a note of that too? His hands are on your waistband again and you shake your head once, not necessarily because you don’t want it, but because you don’t think you’re ready to take something like what he has in his pants just yet, if what you felt earlier is anything to go by.
Too bad this isn’t about you, (Y/N).
“it’s alright, little one…” he cooes, ripping through that fabric too. Once you’re in nothing other than your little panties, he takes a moment to look at you, his grip on your hands tightening. One hand moves across your body, flicking over your nipple with his thumb when he reaches your breast. A dark smirk grazes his lips as he ravashes you with his eyes, but you can’t take a moment to watch his gaze fly over your body because once again you’re spun around, face first into a wall. You groan at the impact. It wasn’t harsh, but Lucifer made sure you felt it, giving you the moment now to turn your head to the side and press your cheek against the wall. “Spread your legs for me, (Y/N). I can smell your arousal.” a rough voice states what you have been trying to keep hidden. Noticing that you’re not complying quickly enough, Lucifer uses his own foot to kick your legs apart and uses the hand that is not holding onto your wrists above you to press against your stomach, effectively pushing your ass out to him.
“Good girl.” he praises, letting his finger tips dance over your stomach and around to your back. He flattens his hand shortly on your ass, kneading the flesh and taking note of how soft you are right there. However, the moment is short lived because the raging erection in his pants is screaming for attention, not willing to wait any longer. A growl escapes him at his own impatience and with one, hard slap to your right ass cheek, he finally moves his hand to undo his belt.
You gasp at the impact on your ass, closing your eyes as the pain rushes through your body, but that’s not what you focus on for long. Hearing Lucifer undo his belt, your eyes widen in shock, trying to see what he is doing but you can only look so far over your shoulder and the demon behind you is much taller. “hghn…!!” you moan against the tie in your mouth, starting to wiggle out of his grasp once more, but Lucifer is quick to press himself against your back side. His cock has made its way past your panties, effectively shoving them aside as your folds part for him, seemingly of their own accord. Pure bliss overpowers him as he feels your wetness get spread across his thick length and he can only give you a warning just in time, “this will hurt, little one, but I promise you… you won’t think of anything but Daddy’s cock once I’ve torn through your tiny cunt.” His tip breaks through first, his hips pausing for a moment to watch your reaction, and oh he’s watching. Your eyes are closed, brows furrowed as you try to prepare yourself for what happens next, but Lucifer doesn’t give you that pleasure. He pushes in with one thrust, letting out a loud groan as your walls engulf him, inviting him in. You’re tight, so, so tight and he ponders for a moment on whether or not he has ever felt anything this ecstatic before.
You scream against the fabric in your mouth, feeling him break your tiny cunt apart as he fills you. It’s music to his ears, honestly, and he knows his thick length and tight grip on your wrists are the only thing keeping you up as he begins to thrust in and out. “hah… you’re taking Daddy’s cock so well… your tiny hole is barely letting me go.” he tells you, his voice husky and hot against your bare skin. You want to open your eyes, you want to look at him, but as you do, you only seem to see a blur. Are those tears? From when he pushed in? Is he too much for you? Pride swells within him at the sight. You’re struggling to take him and yet the air is filled with powerful moans and your wetness lapping at his cock, trying to get more of him inside you.
“I’ve wanted to claim your tiny body… hghn… ever since you came to us.” he admits, pressing his whole frame against you. You’re pushed up against the wall as his free hands slaps down beside your head to keep himself steady. “Your hole was never made to fit us demons….” he continues, picking up his pace as his skin slaps against yours. He’s filling you up, every single inch of you is filled up with demon cock and all you can think about is how to keep breathing while taking note of how good it feels to be split apart. “And yet, you’re such a whore for me, for your daddy, “ he emphasizes, “that you’re pushing back against me like a bitch in heat, trying to feel even more.” His words ring in your ear. It’s true, you are trying to find a rhythm with him, effectively pushing your ass against him in an attempt to keep all of him inside you, no matter how much it hurts. Why? Because the pain is beginning to be mixed with pleasure. You’re soaked, your cunt working to lubricate as much of your hole as possible to accommodate him.
“I feel every bump, every muscle of your tiny cunt… and my heart fills with pride to know that you're only taking my cock down here, little one. I know you went to them, my brothers…” At the mention of them, his nails dig into your wrists, hips snapping hard against yours which makes you cry out again. What a sweet sound. “But I also know that none of them had the privilege to fill you up like this.” Then again, is it really a privilege or does he just know that you’re just as fucked up as he is? Your body shudders beneath his and he knows he’s pushing your orgasm. Not that he cares much for it, no, but if you’re already presenting him with the opportunity, he isn’t opposed to letting his cum mix with your juices and who knows… maybe even breed you. His hand comes down on your ass once more, making you wince and whimper. Once again, music in his ears. “Come with Daddy, little one, maybe I’ll even breed you.” His voice is deep, husky, and full of desire, as he slams into you, his thrust becoming erratic and unequal in rhythm.
His deep voice whispering those dirty words are enough to make you shatter around his cock. Your body shakes as you scream and wail against the tie in your mouth and his hands around your wrists. Your cunt is pulsing around his thick cock, trying to milk him of every last drop he’s willing to give, but it takes a few more hard thrusts before he settles deep inside you, hips glued to yours. His tip poked through your cervix, sending sweet pain through your body as you felt your womb being filled with his seed. Thick, long spurts of his demonic cum fill you up while your ears get filled with his deep groans. You’re so tight around him, so desperate to keep him spurting inside you and for a moment, you wonder what the hell is wrong with you and your body. Heavy breathing escapes your lips, your chest rising and falling against the wall as you try to come down from your high. Lucifer’s own heavy breathing is grounding you, distracting you from the soreness in your cunt at least for a moment.
Really, only for a moment.
Because Lucifer has gotten a taste of you now and as hot and bothered as he was before, it is nothing to how he feels now. “I’m sorry, little one…” he mumbles, letting go of your wrist and wrapping both his arms around you to pull you against his clothed chest. His dress shirt is soaked with sweat, but that’s not the only thing you take note of. You still feel so very full, and Lucifer just came. Your eyes widen at the realization, your hands clawing at his forearms which are wrapped around you.
“It seems you taking me so well has only amplified the Syrup’s qualities.” but don’t worry… Demons have a lot of stamina and you… well, you will just have to take it.
I've had this idea in my head for days now and this is shamelessly based on some of the books I read and definitely that one Diavolo Card where you can see him wielding lightning.... I'm just a thot for this man, what can I say.
Maybe I'll make a part 2 for this, who knows.
TWs: NSFW, mentions of several kinks including bondage, breath play, BDSM, primal play, toys, chasing, Diavolo having control of lighting (none of it is played out and only talked about... for now.)
Intimate Questions and their Results (Diavolo x GN!Reader)
Easy going, that’s how you’d describe your friendship with the Demon Lord. It was never exhausting and you never felt, at any point, the need to prove yourself. On the contrary, from the moment the two of you met, it felt more like you had already known each other for millennia. Obviously, the notion is impossible considering your measly human life span, but it had you reconsider your stance on souls. If we are all made of atoms and atoms are made of matter and matter can neither be created nor destroyed, then perhaps your soul, or at least some part of you, has met him before. That thought is comforting and, although lacking scientific back up, completely logical to you. You had told him about your theory, kind of hoping he would tell you more. Surely, having been around for that long, he must know one or two things or maybe he could even confirm your theory.
“Haha, (Y/N), what a lovely theory!" Heartfelt laughter and neither denial nor confirmation was all you got, though. You pondered on it for a while longer, but came to the conclusion that, if he did know something, surely he would have told you. And so the easiness kept going. You could tell each other everything, even if you didn’t necessarily agree on everything; it made your friendship that more exciting. There was no need to put up a front, a facade to fit in or hide. It was just you two and sometimes it felt like just you two against the world, nothing there to stop you.
So why is it that this easiness seemed to have left the room just moments ago. A seriousness, an uncertainty and a spark of sinful desire had entered the room and you felt your heartbeat quicken. Sitting at the long dining table in the Demon Lord’s Castle shouldn’t feel this strange when you had been here a thousand times before, much to Lucifer’s dismay of course. Why is a human keeping their Lord’s company so often? Lucifer isn’t blind to your friendship, but he is… envious. Sometimes he is invited along, which he appreciates, but it’s almost wrath-inducing watching the two of you as if you had never been apart a day in your lives. If that is what jealousy feels like, then he isn’t sure if it is directed at you or his supposed best friend.
Still, Lucifer isn’t here right now. Just you and the red haired demon with golden eyes that don’t just seem to reach your soul but, instead, move right past it, away from something that they’re already holding captive, anyway. “Diavolo…” your mouth seems to form his name on their own accord, your body finally having enough of this staring contest. It’s odd, uncomfortable even, not knowing why it has come to this. Just a moment ago, you seemed to be laughing, telling the weirdest things to each other and complaining about what went wrong in your day, before picking each other back up with a sip of the delicious tea Barbatos had prepared for the two of you. It’s always a delight to be at the castle, going as far as to say you are familiar with most of its parts.
“I have a question for you, (Y/N).” His voice was even, calculated, and his eyes never left yours as he leaned back in his chair, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. Something inside of you tells you that this isn’t just a normal question; something inside your mind is warning you of the man in front of you, although there must be a connection issue to the rest of your body, considering that it’s reacting in the complete opposite of ways. “Ask away.” you finally end up saying, bringing the cup up to your lips to take another small sip of your tea in hopes to get rid of this feeling. Diavolo watches every one of your moves intently, not missing a single rise and fall of your chest while you breathe, knowing exactly that the rhythm just changed, or the amount of times your eyes close as you blink. He can smell the nervousness.
“What are your kinks?” All movement stopped as you stared at him, forgetting to breathe momentarily before hurriedly putting the cup down and just staring at him. You must have misheard him, for sure. What are your drinks? Where are your things? Yes, something along those lines must be what he meant, but just to make sure, you ask again, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard right… Can you repeat that?”
“I believe you heard me very well.” His deep voice echoes off the walls and you swear you could hear a pin drop if you listen closely. “Why… Do you ask?” you counter his question once more with one of your own. He never once had asked you something so intimately. Of course, there were the obligatory questions about ex lovers or what type of romantic gestures you like, but this is… new. It’s not like you wouldn’t answer him, but this is such new territory that you must have something in return for your openness. “I will tell you… but only if you tell me why you want to know something like that in return.” you say.
For another moment, the silence in the room seems to suffocate you, but soon, you watch as a smile forms on his lips, his golden eyes seeming to sparkle with something, you just can’t quite decipher what it is.
“Deal!” it’s said almost too happily, too eagerly, and you notice way too late that you just made a deal with the devil. You swallow thickly, trying to find a way to begin this. Your list of kinks wasn’t exactly short and you’re sure it hasn’t even reached an end quite yet. There’s nothing that would shock Diavolo, though, you’re sure of it. For someone who’s been alive for as long as he has, you’re sure there’s not much, if anything, that he hasn’t seen. “Well… to start with some simple ones, I like spanking and choking, but not the black-out choking, I just want to feel the hands around my neck, feel them squeeze, feel the… strength behind them, you know?” You didn’t mean for it to end in a question, but you are trying to test the waters here, watching Diavolo’s reaction, but he simply nods in a way to encourage you to keep going. What you can’t see is that he squeezed his own arm the moment you mentioned choking.
“I like toys, but only as a stimulant? I don’t want to get off on them. I like it when my partner is the one that makes me ‘O’. The toys only get me there when my partner doesn’t happen to be there…” or when they couldn’t deliver. Sadly, not every person listens when you tell them what you need to reach an orgasm. “I also like light bondage, blindfolds and standard BDSM stuff.” You admit, nodding, although it is more for yourself than anything else. Diavolo leans forward, uncrossing his arms to lay his forearms, and with that his weight, on the table, never losing eye contact. “I believe there’s more.” he says, his eyes once again sparkling with something that you can’t quite catch. Or perhaps there’s something wrong with the lighting? Did it just flicker? But he’s right… there’s so much more which you had never admitted to anyone.
“I-I…” you begin, but fail. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before finding the courage to look at him again, you continue, “I really like the idea… of primal play. Of being chased and caught and marked.” By now your face was already red. Never once had you told someone, not really having found a partner where you would try it with. “I want to be the prey… helpless, trapped beneath a big body, knowing that it will end in pleasure… maybe even mixed with a little pain.” There it is again. The flicker, only this time, the lights really seemed to join. It confused you just as much as it amazed you, but you didn’t think much of it, “F-furthermore … I like breathplay and being made to submit. I don’t give in easily, that’s why I need my partner to be dominant.” You chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, but before you could catch a glimpse of Diavolo’s reaction, the lights flicker once more, only this time, they turn off completely.
Lightning strikes outside, making you jump in your chair. The only thing that you still seem to be able to see are golden eyes, and they have moved. He’s standing now, watching you just as intently as they were before, only this time, they seem to be moving closer. “D-Diavolo…?” you question, trying to see how and where he moves in the dark. Every once in a while, the lightning outside would light up the castle's dining room and you’d notice that the demon is, once again, in a different spot. This time, when lightning strikes, you can’t see him at all. “Come on… don’t mess with me… y-you still have to hold up your end of the deal.” You look around you, not seeing anything and the nervousness seems to take complete and utter control of your body. Adrenaline is spiking, your feet ready to get up and carry you out of here if they must, but you don’t want that…. no. Along with adrenaline, something else can be found in the air…
“Arousal…” a voice growls in your ear, its owner being the one who you had just so desperately tried to find. His hot breath tickles the shell of your ear, making goose bumps rise across the whole of your body as you wait for his next move. He doesn’t touch you, not really, but you can feel his broad frame behind you, seemingly caging you in. Your breath quickens, your eyes wide and your core screaming with lust. This is what you had imagined. This is how it would begin. “I am holding up my end of the deal. But instead of merely telling you, I rather show you…” he breathes, his nose tickling the top of your ear before he whispers, low and demonic:
“You’re in my territory and I will find you but go ahead and… run.”
In which you have reunion sex with hubby, Marine!Toji ;)
“You been letting other men touch this pussy?”
Delirious, you answer with a garbled no.
Toji’s chuckle is mean and condescending, and the dastardly sound shoots straight to your pulsing clit. You cream even more around his massive cock, which stretches you out beyond imagination.
“’course not. This tight,” thrust, “fucking,” thrust!, “cunt,” thrust!, squelch!, squeeeelch!,“only wants me, doesn’t it?” He looks down to where you’re sinfully connected, tongue wetting his bottom lip at the sight of the glistening white ring around his base. “Yeah, doll. Missed you too. Don’t worry, gorgeous -hngh, fuck- g-gonna take care of ya, alright? Sarge’s gonna fuck you real good. You want that, ma?”
“No,” you moan, ass rocking back into his pelvis, chasing the fullness. “Want Toji to fuck me.” A sudden whine escapes you; you swear his cock just got even bigger.
He hooks a thumb into your other hole, keeping you so full you can’t think of anyone but him. Toji drawls, “You got it, babygirl. Just don't be complainin’ when you’re too sore to lift a finger tomorrow.”
“Whatever, you’ll do everything for me anyway.”
Toji grins. “Damn right.”
His hips are relentless — pummelling into your pussy with no mercy, no respect, no consideration for how many orgasms he’s already rammed out of you. Nothing matters more to him than feeling every part of your body, both outside and inside: not the fact that you’re both drowning in sweat, not the stickiness of your combined juices, and especially not the creak in his bones warning him he should be resting, not fucking his wife into the next year.
Reunion sex always turns out like this: rough and messy and ruled by pure, animalistic instinct. Making love and cuddling come later—when you’re too tired to keep your eyes open, when your stomachs are grumbling, and the light filtering through the curtains shifts from streetlight to sunrise.
Hickeys and bite marks litter both your skins. You love covering his new scars with them — something about pretending he hadn’t been somewhere terrifying, doing things he’d never be able to speak of to another soul again, wondering if he’d ever see you.
Most times, he tires himself out and ends up dozing off on your tits or your back, drooling and still balls-deep inside you. Sometimes, however…sometimes he overstimulates himself into an absolute emotional trainwreck.
“Oh god, baby,” he rasps, scarred lips grazing the curve of your neck, tasting the salt on your skin. “I missed ya. Missed you so -hah-fucking much. Thought I’d —fuck, loosen up for me, baby, gonna make me cum too soon— t-thought I’d lose my mind without you. You ain’t mad at me, are ya mama? Ain’t gonna leave, right? Don’t know -ngh- what I’d do without you, baby. God, never gonna -hic!- leave you again. Promise, gorgeous. Ah s-shit, gonna cum.”
Maybe he cries into your hair. Maybe he doesn’t. Whatever the case, he’s here. He’s home. And he’s holding you like you might slip away.
Older wolf!hybrid roomate that lets you stay rent free as long as he can grope and fondle your tits every once in a while uninterrupted.
He’s gotten to the age where he’s not really interested in going out to meet new people. He’s content getting to take one of your nipples into into his mouth and jerk off while you scroll on your phone.
If you let him fuck your tits he’ll even pay for your nails and groceries for the month. Licking the tip or letting him cum on your face means he’ll treat you to a trip out of town.
You’ve let him fuck your doughy thighs once and he made a mess all over them almost immediately…
He wouldn’t call himself your sugar daddy. He’s not exactly rich and doesn’t pamper you like he wants to, but you’re taken care of and he’s grown quite fond of you.
He’s been saving up so he can knot that pretty, fat cunt of yours at some point… he just doesn’t know you’d let him do it for free if he just asked.
Kitsune God that falls obsessively in love with you
He has a shrine that has long since abadoned until you a lone mortal came passing by one day. You saw the small little shrine and felt sorry for all the weeds that seemed to be creeping around the statue of a fox.
You carefully pull them away to reveal the statue underneath before giving it a gentle pat on the head and a scratch under the chin. "Now you look much better!"
You pull a few coins from your pocket and leave it at the base of the statue...
You have no idea what you've just done.
When you make it home you feel eyes on you, it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. But you live alone... Surely it is just your imagination?
But that whole evening throughout dinner and clean up you could feel that gaze on you.
It wasn't until you undressed to take a bath that the presence finally showed itself.
A tall and dashing looking fox man appeared from nowhere behind you, his hands snakeing around you and one covering your mouth before you could let out a scream, the other softly pinching at one of your nipples.
"Now, now my lovely bride... Don't wake the neighbours."
BRIDE?
The look of confusion on your face was evident, you were to stunned to even move as the fox nuzzled into your neck.
"And what a pretty bride you are..." His hand cupping around your breast and squeezing.
"These will carry plenty to feed our kits and oh..." He slipped a hand away from your mouth and slowly slides it down your body, squeezing at your tummy.
"You'll be able to hold many kits..."
He seems to just be squeezing your body, talking about kits and how divine you look, a perfect mate to take his cock. It has been so long since he had a bride... Oh you were perfect.
"Who... are you?" You finally manage to splutter out between gasps and soft moans.
You only heard him chuckle.
"Your husband... You left me your offering... I just knew I had to have you." He coos.
It was in the moment you felt something begin to press between your thighs, you could feel him shudder behind you as you glanced down at the tip of his cock poking through your thighs, already leaking precum as he grew excited at the thought of breeding your perfect cunt.
He continues to fondle you, slowly thrusting in and out between your thighs, you could feel yourself getting wetter as his cock slid between your folds, a desperation to be inside you as he whined.
"Please... Please my lovely bride I'll make everything so perfect for you, I'll give you everything you ever want, please."
He turns you, you were facing your apperent fuzzy husband to be now.
His features thin like a typical fox, his ears folded back as behind him, nine large fluffy tails quivered in excitment.
He was starting to lift one of your legs up, the tip of his cock gently pushing into your hole as he whined.
How could you say no to such a handsome creature?
You nod slowly and his ears perk up, before you even register what is happening, he has quickly scooped you up and ran back to your room, dropping you on your bed and is instantly on top of you.
His hands groping your breasts again, his head lowered as he licked and nipped at your senstive nipples.
"I'll keep you stuffed and happy, I'll keep you so full of kits that these will never run out of milk."
You let out a small groan, your legs parting slightly for him and he took that as his invitation as he slid inside without hesitation.
Your wetness made it slightly easier for him but his girth made you whimper a little, he was so large for someone that looked so... Skinny.
And to him? Oh you felt amazing.
Perfection, so warm, so addicting.
He couldn't hold back, his claws digging into you as he thrusts all the way in, letting out a loud moan as he gripped at your hips, needing to hold himself steady as he pounded into you ruthlessly.
He watched in hunger at the way your breasts bounced and belly jiggled with each hard thrust. Licking at his maw as he felt you squeeze tightly around him, sucking him into your delicious fat cunt.
He was going to breed you until you knew nothing but him and his cock.
"My wife... My lovely wife." He gasped, his tails lashing wildly as he felt himself getting closer. "I'll never let anyone have you."
And with a final deep thrust, his cock buried all the way into you, his knot popping into you and locking him tight into your pussy. you felt it twitch around your walls before you felt his warm seed start to fill your womb.
Your own orgasm came quickly after, squirting around his cock as you cried out, reaching up to grab at him as he lowered his head, locking his lips to your mouth, being careful that his sharp fangs didn't cut you as his tongue swirled with yours.
He pulls his head back, his hands now massaging gently at your stomach, as if to make sure his seed mixed in well... "So good for me... My beautiful wife."
He eventually lays on top of you, knot still buried in you as he suckles on your nipple as if milk was already there, his other hand massaging your breast.
If you get treated well and get dicked down like that? Maybe being a bride to a trickster wasn't so bad...
I love when sukuna adorers call sukuna a fattie (derogatory) like yes he is a fat bastard, he probably can pack away food thats twice his weight gege i need this man's canon weight please i just know that pure muscle and extra limbs make him heavy as fuck. If he werent a jujutsu nerd he would be round as hell (id still smash. fat sukuna my love.)
Oral ( female receiving ),Size Difference,Monsterfucking (Zora), Interracial (Hylian x Zora),Penetrative Sex, Creampie, Height Difference Kink, Praise Kink,Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex (Consensual), Public Risk / Semi-Public Setting, Body Worship, Power Imbalance (King x Queen / Consensual)
It started in the throne room, like anything naturally does.Two young Zora attendants,barely trained, barely subtle. Stood whispering behind their scrolls as Sidon guided you toward your seat.
They didn’t whisper quietly enough. ( their second mistake, the first for even daring to talk about you.)
“Look at her… Hylians are so tiny.”
“She barely comes to His Majesty’s chest.”
“How could someone that small ever satisfy a king?”
Sidon froze mid-step.
His smile didn’t falter, but a faint twitch ran down the fin along his forearm.
You felt tension coil in him like a bowstring.
He turned his head slightly, voice warm but edged in warning. “I can hear you.”
The attendants scattered like frightened minnows.
You placed a soft hand on his bicep.“Sidon… let it go.”
He smiled down at you,sweet, adoring, but with a thin thread of something dark simmering underneath.“Oh, my love…”
His voice dropped to a purr only you could hear.“I have no intention of letting anything go.”
⸻
He waits until nightfall to snap.The moment your chamber doors shut, Sidon presses you against them,not forcefully, but with a reverence that shakes you.
His huge hands bracket your hips, fingers spreading over your softness as he pulls you up onto your toes.
His forehead meets yours.“Too short for me…?”He whispers it like a blasphemy.
Your breath stutters.“Sidon—”
His lips crush into yours.
Hungry.
Claiming.
The kiss alone making you see stars.
He lifts you easily,your feet leave the ground, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your plush curves molding to his hard torso.
Sidon growls into your mouth.“They think your height limits you.”
He grinds your hips against the rigid outline straining under his sash.“Little pearl… your size is exactly what ruins me.”
He carries you to the throne
Not the bed.
Not the bathing pool.
The throne.
His throne.
He sets you on its massive stone armrest,your back pressed against the carved curves of the seat, your hips at the perfect height for him when he stands close.
Your dress rides up over your thighs. Warmth creeps up your neck as your body trembles.
He sees everything.
Sidon inhales sharply, pupils dilating like a predator scenting prey.“Look at you…”
His voice cracks.“So small upon my throne.So powerful.So perfectly shaped to be taken by your king.”
Your heart pounds.“Sidon, please—”
He kneels.
The King of the Zora kneels between your legs, pulling your thighs apart so gently it makes you ache.
His huge hands cradle your softness with worshipful care as his lips descend to your inner thigh.“Too short for me?”
He kisses the tender skin.“Too small to pleasure me?”
Another kiss, higher now.“Then why…”His hot breath ghosts over the cloth covering your core as he looks up at you.“…does my queen smell like she’s ready to be eaten alive?”
Your whole body jolts.
He devours you.
Sidon pulls the cloth aside with one slow swipe of his claw.His tongue slides against you,long, hot, skillful and you choke on a gasp.
Your thighs clamp around his head, but he simply growls approvingly, holding you in place as he licks deeper, slower, deeper.
His mouth worships you, his tongue curling inside you, his lips sucking your clit until your knees tremble violently.
Sidon moans into you.
MOANS.
Like your taste is the only thing keeping him alive.Your fingers twist in his hair as you whimper.
“Sidon—I—I can’t—”
His voice vibrates against you.“You can.Let go, little pearl.”
And you do.
You break apart on his tongue, shattering against his mouth as he holds you open through every trembling wave. Tears pricking your eyes as you choke back a sob.
He doesn’t stop until you beg.
He stands and the height difference becomes filthy
Sidon rises to his full towering height,broad, powerful, glistening with your arousal on his lips.
He lifts your hips with ease, sliding your soft body toward the edge of the throne arm.
You’re so small compared to him,your legs dangling, your thighs already parted for him, your needy little sounds filling the chamber.
Sidon brushes his cock through your slick folds and shudders violently.“Hylia help me…”
He whispers the words like a plea.“You are perfectly sized for this.”
He pushes into you.Slow.Deep.Stretching you to your limit.
You arch, crying out as he fills you with inch after inch of thick, throbbing heat.
Sidon leans over you, chest brushing your breasts, teeth grazing your neck.
“Too short?”He thrusts, hitting deep...too deep.
You whimper.
He thrusts again,harder.
You moan loudly.
A grin flashes over his lips, feral and adoring.
“You fit me better than anyone alive.You take me deeper because you’re small.You hold me tighter because you’re soft.”
Each thrust slams you into the throne’s carved back, your breasts bouncing, your thighs jiggling around his hips.
Sidon’s breath breaks in your ear.“Look how easily I lift you…how effortlessly your little body takes all of me…”
He pulls your hips up, angling you, and thrusts up again.
You scream.
Sidon groans desperately.“Little pearl…My queen…Say there is no one else who could satisfy me.”
“Th-There’s no one—!”Your voice breaks as you cling to him.“No one but me!”His hips jerk.
A sound escapes him,raw, primal, undone.
“Good girl.”
He pounds you harder, deeper, the throne creaking with every thrust, your short stature letting him pull you tight against him over and over, your plushness absorbing every impact with sinful perfection.
Your second orgasm tears through you like lightning.
Sidon feels it,feels the way you squeeze, flutter, milking him and he loses all control.He fills you while holding you off the ground.
He lifts your entire body off the throne with one powerful arm under your ass and cums inside you with a groan so deep the entire chamber vibrates.
His hips grind through every pulse, every spurt, every hot wave spilling into you.While your body hangs helplessly in his arms, entirely his, entirely adored.
When he finally sets you down, trembling and breathless, he kisses your forehead.
Soft.Reverent.Devoted.
“If they ever doubt you again,” he whispers. "I’ll take you on the throne itself.”
He smiles against your cheek.“And we’ll let the entire Domain hear.”
Smutmas Day 8
Krampus Toji x Human reader
My works: enjoy
Bye now - Mars ♡
You stepped into the club, the music loud and banging, sweaty people bumping into you. The smell of alcohol and weed potent in the air.
Linking your arms with your friends, you navigate the dance floor.
You were dressed in a sexy grinch costume for the christmas party. Flaunting your body boldly for the world, full glam on your pretty face.
You had one goal tonight, get laid.
You made your way over to the bar, surprised to see the bartender already putting down shots for you and your girls, "Krampus asks if you’ve been naughty” the bartender says, cocking his head towards the buff man on the other side of the bar.
You looked over, the guy was huge, dressed as Krampus, the detailing in his costume was a bit too accurate. His horns seem to be protruding out of skull. His muscles flexed as he lifted the glass to his mouth, holding your gaze.
Standing up and gesturing towards the exit, he left.
You looked at your girlfriends, their encouragement was all you needed. You headed out the club, finding your mystery guy leaned against the wall.
“Krampus, haven’t seen anyone as him tonight” you approached him, standing before the guy. He towered over you easily even in your high heels.
“Only one me doll” his voice is deep, sending heat straight to your pussy. You subconsciously rubbed your thighs together. The night air is cruel on your exposed thighs and stomach.
“Has the little grinch been naughty or nice this year?”
“Define naughty” you smile, tilting your head
Oh, he loves this. He loves brats with sassy little mouths and a tight ass.
Toji takes your face in his hand, thumb brushing across your lips, deliberately smudging your lipstick a little, “Naughty is letting me take you right here out in the open for everyone to see”
“Then I’m a naughty girl” you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking on it whilst looking up at him.
He smiles, fangs on display, his eyes seem to get redder, “My speciality is punishing naughty brats”
“Mmm” he cages you up against the wall, hands settling on your waist, before moving down to your hips. He gropes your ass, holding you there against his broad firm chest.
Toji kisses you, it’s sweet at first, almost hesitant like he’s testing the waters. Then it gets heated, he tilts your head back and deepens the kiss. His tongue is long and hot, stuffing down your throat. You moan and arch up into him, lifting a leg and hooking it over his hip.
He slides a palm under your thighs, lifting you up and pinning you against the wall. He kisses down your neck, marking you up with love bites and hickeys.
You buck against him, wanting to feel all he has to offer. You could feel the way your soaked panties stuck to your pussy.
He pushes your panties to the side, dragging his sharp claws over your clit. It’s dangerous, it’s exciting, “This grinch is soaked” he growls against your ear, freeing himself from his clothes.
His cock is huge, the tip, an angry red, already dripping with precum. He teases your slit, sliding his length between your pussy lips and bumping against your clit.
You moan, grabbing his face and pulling him down for another kiss, you bite his lower lip tugging on it in retaliation for all his teasing, “Put it in” you whine into his mouth, sucking on his tongue.
He chuckles and slips his cock into you. The stretch is deliciously painful, his monstrous cock splitting you in two. You moan out his name, hands grabbing onto his horns to ground yourself.
He groans your name at that, burying himself to the hilt. Cock kissing your womb, he pulls back out and slides back in, setting the pace to wreck you.
Toji grips your waist and bounces you on his cock like you weigh nothing. The cold breeze hitting you clit just right, hole stretched around his girth.
He pulls out just long enough to flip you around and when you think he’s about to push you up against the wall and fuck you there, he lifts you back up.
Hands slipping under your knees and folding you in half as he links his fingers together behind your neck. The new position makes him go deeper than before and his thrusts are mean.
“Let me hear you, pretty woman” he grunts, keeping you in the full nelson position as he wrecks you for any other man.
You moan loudly, pussy tightening around his cock as you near your peak. The orgasm building in your core is intense and you’ve never felt this way before, “Pleaaasee, slow down” your words come out hazy and needy, begging your Krampus to have some mercy but alas, he has none.
Toji fingers find your clit, rubbing mean circles over your clit, he keeps up the pace of his thrusts. He can tell you’re close with the way your pussy keeps clenching and unclenching around his cock. Your scent filling the night air and invading his scenes.
“Come for me, mama” he groans,
Your mouth falls open into an ‘O’ shape as you hit your climax, pussy squirting its sweet juices.
“This grinch is a squirter” Toji moans and thrusts so deep into you that you feel all the air knocked out of your lungs. He fills you up to the brim, his load hot and heavy and powerful as he keeps pumping load after load of hot milky cum into your pussy.
He pulls out of you and settles you onto your feet, holding you up as he rubs your thighs. You lean against his chest, fucked stupid.
Toji fixes your panties in place, muttering how he wanted you to not waste a single drop.
He lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder, “When we get home, I want you to squirt in my mouth” he slaps your ass, walking off into the night.
I really love your bimbo series, and I was wondering how the jjk men would react if someone were to like make reader sad or like they called her an idiot Hehehe, Sorry to disturb and Thank you for your work🫶🫶🫶
•●PROTECT THE PRETTY GIRL AT ALL COSTS●•
── someone insults bimbo!reader and the jjk men go to war
you didn’t even understand what they were talking about at that stupid higher up meeting. something about political tension between clans and funding allocations and a bunch of other things that made your brain feel like it was being microwaved, but you were standing beside satoru anyway, smiling politely, swinging your little handbag back and forth because he asked you to come with him "for moral support," which was his adorable way of saying if i have to be here i’m dragging my pretty girlfriend with me so i don’t commit homicide.
it was going okay.
until it wasn’t.
one of the elders, the one who always looked like a dehydrated raisin, leaned in toward another and muttered, not nearly quietly enough, "look at her… ridiculous. that’s gojo’s ‘partner’? she looks brainless. useless. decorative at best."
another snorted. "what an embarrassment. he’s already a disgrace, but this is pathetic."
you froze, smile flickering at the edges like a candle in the wind, because you didn’t fully understand what "decorative at best" meant but it felt mean, and your chest tightened in that awful, confused way where you weren’t sure if you were going to cry or just walk away before someone noticed.
satoru noticed. satoru always noticed.
and something in him snapped so quietly it sounded like a thread breaking.
his voice was soft when he spoke, too soft, the kind of softness that made the entire air still. "what did you just say?"
the room went silent. the elders stiffened.
you blinked up at him, confused, because he wasn’t smiling anymore. not even the fake one he used for politics. his expression was blank, empty, a sheet of ice stretched over something ancient and lethal.
"g-gojo," one stammered, "you misunderstand-"
"no," he said calmly, taking a slow, measured step forward, "i heard you. i want to make sure you hear me."
his hands were in his pockets but the air around him warped, bent, shivered, like gravity itself was trying to pull away from him.
another elder tried to speak, "this is unnecessary-"
satoru cut him off with a laugh so cold it could frost glass.
"no, what’s unnecessary," he said, tilting his head, "is you thinking you’re entitled to speak about her at all."
your fingers curled into his sleeve, unsure, small. satoru covered your hand with his, protective, steady.
"you can insult me," he continued, voice still unbearably soft, "you can use me, manipulate me, throw me at whatever political mess you don’t want to deal with. i’ve tolerated it for years." he lifted his gaze, six eyes burning. utterly merciless. "but never her."
no one breathed.
"never," he repeated, voice barely above a whisper, "talk about her like that again."
the silence crawled across the room.
"because i don’t care what happens to me," he murmured, "but if i ever hear you speak her name with anything less than respect… i will erase every single one of you from existence and sleep like a baby afterwards."
someone choked. another elder stumbled back.
you tugged on his sleeve again, shy and small. "toru… it’s okay…"
he turned to you instantly, expression melting, the storm gone, warmth flooding back in that dizzying, disorienting way only he could manage.
"no, sweetheart," he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek, "it’s not okay when someone makes you sad."
"i’m not sad," you lied adorably.
"you are," he whispered, leaning down until his forehead touched yours, "and they’re never making you feel that way again."
behind him, no one dared breathe.
you tugged him toward the exit with a little pout. "can we go get ice cream now?"
and satoru, still holding the terrified room hostage with just his presence, smiled down at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
"yeah, baby," he said, wrapping an arm around your waist, "let’s get out of here before i accidentally commit a felony."
and as he led you out the door, the elders swore the temperature rose at least ten degrees, simply because satoru gojo stopped looking at them like he wanted them dead.
•●SUGURU GETO●•
it happened in the middle of one of geto’s sermons, the kind where he spoke with that slow, hypnotic cadence that made everyone in the room look at him like he hung the stars by hand. you were sitting off to the side on a cushion he’d insisted he place there, somewhere he could see you, somewhere you could feel "comfortable," which secretly just meant "somewhere he could stare at you the whole time."
you were wearing the soft pink dress he liked on you, the one with the bows on the shoulders and the gentle, floaty hem that swished every time you shifted, and he kept losing his place mid speech whenever you tucked your hair behind your ear or kicked your feet a little. he could command a room of dozens without blinking, but the second you giggled at something in your own head, his brain just… shut off.
which was why the comment hit him so fast and so wrong.
one of his followers, someone new, someone stupid, whispered under their breath, just loud enough for the people beside them to hear, but not loud enough to think it would carry across the shrine floor.
"why does he keep bringing her? she’s… not exactly priestess material. looks like her skull is full of glitter."
you did that thing where your posture shrunk, shoulders dipping slightly, hands fidgeting with the bow on your dress, eyes dropping to your lap because you knew they were talking about you even if you didn’t understand why they cared so much.
and geto felt something in him snap.
not loudly. not dramatically. quietly, like a thread pulled too tightly and finally tearing.
he didn’t even break his smile.
"excuse me," he said softly, not even looking in the direction of the voice, "who said that?"
the room went still the way prey does when a predator looks up.
the follower stuttered. "i-i didn’t- i meant no disrespect, geto-sama, i just-"
but geto was already walking toward them, steps slow and graceful, the same way he’d approach a curse he planned to exorcise with his bare hands.
you watched with wide, anxious eyes, clutching the fabric of your dress.
"suguru?" you whispered, almost too quiet to hear. "did… did i do something wrong?"
and it was over for that follower.
geto’s smile sharpened. "no, sweetheart," he said gently without looking away from the trembling man in front of him, "you didn’t do anything wrong."
he crouched down, tilting his head slightly. "but he did."
there was no warning.
one flick of his wrist, too fast for the untrained eye to even register, and the man crumpled, neck twisted at a sick, unnatural angle, body falling limp onto the floor with a dull thud.
several followers gasped. a few looked away. one or two bowed instantly in reverent fear.
you startled, hand flying to your mouth. "suguru! you- he- you- did you mean to do that?"
he turned back to you with a softness so starkly at odds with what he’d just done that it physically made your breath catch.
"of course," he murmured, crossing the room and lowering himself in front of you. "they insulted you."
you blinked at him, eyes shiny. "but… people say stuff all the time."
"not about you," he corrected, voice low and warm and frightening in its devotion. "never about you."
you shifted nervously, fingers twisting together. "i just… i don’t want anyone to think i’m dumb."
his expression changed, something tender blooming there, something dangerous curling right beneath it.
he lifted your chin with two fingers.
"if you were dumb," he whispered, "i would still love you more than every person in this room. but you’re not. you’re just… sweet. and soft. and innocent. things they don’t understand." his thumb brushed your cheek. "and they are not allowed to speak about you like that."
you swallowed. "but you… killed him…"
"and i’d do worse," he said simply, eyes never leaving yours. "especially if it keeps that little look off your face."
you blinked. "what look?"
"that one," he said softly, thumb tracing under your eye. "the sad one. the one you get when you think you’re worth anything less than worship."
your breath hitched. "that’s… dramatic."
he smiled faintly. "it’s honest."
behind him, followers were already dragging the body away silently, the air heavy with the unspoken understanding that their leader’s affection was the most dangerous thing in the room.
"come here," he murmured, guiding you carefully onto his lap, right there in front of everyone. "let me fix that little frown."
you curled into him instinctively, and he wrapped his arms around you like he’d been waiting for the excuse all day.
you whispered against his chest, small and confused, "i didn’t want anyone to get hurt…"
"then they shouldn’t have opened their mouth," he said simply, kissing the top of your head. "you are everything to me. and anyone who forgets that?" his tone dropped into something cold. "i will remind them."
•●KENTO NANAMI●•
it was one of those evenings where nanami took you out specifically because he knew you’d been feeling insecure, because you’d mentioned, very softly, in that sugary little voice you got when you were trying not to cry, that someone at work called you "slow," and he hated the way your lip trembled when you told him, like you were trying to pretend it didn’t hurt even though it absolutely did.
so he decided to take you somewhere warm and quiet and gentle, a little cafe on a corner that smelled like vanilla beans and steamed milk, because he wanted to remind you that the world wasn’t always loud and cruel.
you were dressed pretty, pink, soft, sparkly, makeup done exactly the way he liked seeing it on you, and you were clutching his sleeve with those glossy fingertips, asking him if your hair looked okay even though it always did, and he was just about to reassure you, genuinely and softly, when someone at the next table leaned over and said something she shouldn’t have.
she was older, sharp eyes, expensive lipstick, the kind of woman who clung to the sense of superiority she got from having a structured career and a degree she never shut up about. she looked at you, then at nanami, and smiled in that way people smiled when they were about to say something poisonous.
"she’s very… sweet," the woman murmured, not even bothering to hide the condescension dripping from her tone, "though i suppose some men prefer a woman who doesn’t challenge them intellectually."
nanami froze.
you blinked slowly, head tilting the same way it always did when you didn’t fully understand the insult but could feel the way it stung. your hand tugged a little harder on his sleeve. "ken… did she mean like… me?"
the woman laughed, low and mean. "oh darling, it’s nothing to worry about. you’re very cute. just… simple."
you went quiet.
your eyes dropped, your lip wobbled. your fingers curled into the hem of your skirt like you were trying to shrink into yourself.
and that was it.
nanami stood so fast his chair didn’t just slide back, it slammed. the entire cafe went silent.
"excuse me," nanami said, voice low and even, the kind of even that meant something terrible was coming, "but i would appreciate if you refrained from speaking about my partner in that manner."
the woman raised a brow, scoffing lightly. "i’m just saying what everyone can see."
he stepped closer.
not imposing. not loud. not even threatening.
just precise.
"what everyone can see," he said quietly, "is that you felt the need to insult a woman who has done nothing to you, in order to soothe something in yourself that you are too afraid to confront."
the woman stiffened. "i-"
"my partner," he continued, "is kind. and gentle. and genuine. you insult her because you cannot fathom a softness that isn’t performative. because you mistake cruelty for intelligence."
you were staring at him now, wide eyed, tears clinging to your lashes. nanami softened immediately when he looked at you.
"come here," he murmured, offering his hand gently, his entire body melting the way it only did around you.
you stood, still looking wounded, still clutching your little purse like a shield. "ken… did i do something wrong…?"
"no," he said firmly, brushing a thumb across your cheek in a slow, grounding stroke. "you did absolutely nothing wrong."
"but she said-"
"she said what she said to hurt you," he replied, leaning down until his forehead almost touched yours, "because people like her see beauty and joy and softness and mistake it for emptiness. they’re wrong."
your breath shivered.
your voice was small. "but i’m not… smart like you."
he took your face in both hands, gently but undeniably.
"you are not me. i am not you," he murmured. "and i do not want a mirror. i want you."
you swallowed, eyes shimmering.
"and you," he added, eyes briefly flicking toward the woman again, "are far more mature than most, because you never weaponize your intelligence or lack of it against another person."
the woman blanched.
nanami didn’t look at her again.
he took your hand, placed a soft kiss on the back of it, and said, "let’s go somewhere nicer."
"okay…" you whispered, smiling a little through the hurt, leaning into him like he was the safest place in the world.
as he led you out, he heard the woman mutter under her breath, "i didn’t even say anything that bad."
he didn’t turn around.
he just said, calm and deadly, "the fact that you believe that is exactly the problem."
and then the door closed behind you, shutting out the noise and leaving you tucked against his side where you belonged, where his voice stayed soft and low and gentle the whole way home as he reminded you, over and over, that you were enough.
•●CHOSO KAMO●•
it happened in the most normal, boring setting imaginable. a convenience store at nine at night, the kind of place with buzzing fluorescent lights and a guy behind the counter who definitely hated his job, and you were just standing there picking out your favorite juice, humming softly as you swayed in place, completely oblivious to how eye catching you looked in your tiny skirt and sparkly clips.
choso was beside you, quietly holding a basket like an attentive shadow, watching you compare two identical cartons like it was the most important decision of the night.
and then you heard it.
a girl a few aisles over, loud enough to cut, sharp enough to sting.
"oh my god," she scoffed to her friend, "look at her. she looks like she has a brain made of pudding."
her friend snorted. "yeah, and the guy she’s with looks like he crawled out of a sewer. they’re perfect."
you froze.
just completely stopped moving, juice still in your hands, lip trembling in a way you tried to hide but didn’t quite manage, and choso noticed instantly, because he always noticed you, always tracked every little shift in your voice and heartbeat like it was instinct. he looked down at you, confused, then followed your gaze to the girls staring and whispering.
"did they hurt you?" choso asked quietly.
you shook your head too fast. "no. no, i’m fine. it’s okay, they’re just- just girls being silly-"
but your voice cracked on the word "silly," and that was when choso’s entire demeanor changed, not loudly, not dramatically, but in that eerie, cold, absolutely focused way only he could pull off.
he handed you the basket.
"hold this."
you blinked, startled. "cho…?"
but he was already walking toward them, steps slow and deliberate like he wasn’t approaching a conflict, but a puzzle he intended to take apart with his fingers.
the girls stiffened when he stopped in front of them.
he stared at them for a long, uncomfortable moment, expression flat and unreadable, hair shadowing his eyes, voice low and steady when he finally spoke.
"your faces are uneven."
the girl who insulted you blinked. "excuse me?"
"and your hair is dry," choso added calmly, tilting his head like he was diagnosing a medical issue. "it looks like straw. maybe you don’t drink enough water."
her friend choked. "what- what the hell-?"
choso kept going. he always kept going.
"your makeup is patchy too," he said, squinting slightly, "your foundation doesn’t match your neck. and your eyeliner is crooked. both sides."
the first girl sputtered. "w-why are you even looking-?!"
"and your voice," he continued, unbothered, "is unpleasant. it sounds like something scraping metal. is that why you speak so loudly? to distract from it?"
the friend took a step back. "dude what is your problem-"
"i don’t have one," choso said simply, "you do. you upset her."
and the softness in his voice when he said "her" made them both shut up, because it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t threatening, it was protective in a way that buzzed under the skin.
then he leaned in slightly, eyes half lidded, tone dropping to something low and cold enough to make the air feel different.
"don’t talk about her again. not when i can hear it. not when i can’t."
the girls didn’t answer, they couldn’t. they grabbed their baskets and practically ran out of the aisle. choso just turned around, walked back to you like nothing happened, plucked the juice from your hands, and put it in the basket he’d made you hold.
"they’re gone," he said simply, nudging your cheek with his knuckles. "you don’t have to pretend you’re not sad."
that broke you a little.
you leaned into him with a small pout. "they were really mean…"
he nodded. "yes."
"and they said you looked like you crawled out of a sewer…"
another nod. "yes."
"that doesn’t bother you?"
he shrugged, completely sincere. "i did crawl out of much worse places. that’s not an insult."
your laugh came out watery but real.
he brushed your hair back from your face, awkward but gentle, trying so hard to comfort you in the only way he knew how.
"don’t be sad over people who look like that," he murmured, thumb wiping under your eye. "you’re beautiful. they’re… dehydrated."
you choked on a laugh.
"and," he added, almost proudly, "i insulted them better."
"you did," you giggled, sniffling, "you really did."
he looked pleased with himself. quietly, awkwardly, adorably pleased.
"good," he said. "then we can go home."
and you walked out with your hand wrapped in his, still smiling, still soft, sadness fading completely as choso carried your basket and glared at anyone who so much as looked at you too long.
•●TAKUMA INO●•
it happened in the most ino way possible. which meant it was loud, unnecessary, and somehow three times more dramatic than it ever needed to be.
you were standing in line at a convenience store, clutching a little basket full of lip gloss, strawberry pocky, and a hello kitty lighter even though you had no idea how to use one. you were just minding your business, humming under your breath, looking adorable and harmless and completely incapable of violence.
and then it happened.
some girl behind you, older, jealous, painfully insecure in that way only someone who hates herself can be, leaned forward and muttered just loud enough, "god. girls like her are so fake. all boobs and no brain."
you froze. your lip gloss nearly fell out of your hand. your eyes got all shiny and wobbly like a sad puppy watching the rain and you whispered, "…am i… fake?" in the softest voice imaginable.
before you could spiral into ten layers of sparkly insecurity, the door slammed open so hard the bell nearly snapped in half because takuma ino stormed in like a hurricane wearing sunglasses indoors and holding a convenience store coffee he absolutely did not pay for.
"BABYYYY WHERE ARE YOU, OH- OKAY I SEE YOU HI-"
you sniffed and pointed at the girl. "she said i’m fake."
ino turned slowly. like a villain in a b-movie, like a man who had been waiting his entire life for someone to give him a legal reason to cause a scene.
"who," he asked, voice low, "said WHAT?"
the girl scoffed. "i was just saying the truth. she looks like she got dressed in the dark and-"
she didn’t get to finish.
ino was already stepping toward her with the exact energy of a man about to challenge someone to a dance battle and lose on purpose just to make a point.
"listen here, avocado toast personality disorder," he said, pointing his coffee at her like it was a weapon, "if you EVER talk to my girlfriend like that again, i swear on everything holy, i will manifest a curse out of spite just so i can beat it to death with my own two hands while you watch."
the whole store stopped breathing.
"she’s just-" the girl stammered. "she’s just stupid."
"YEAH?" he barked, slamming his coffee onto the counter, spilling half of it. "AND? SHE’S STUPID IN A CUTE WAY. YOU’RE STUPID IN A TAX FRAUD WAY."
you blinked. "wait… people can be stupid in tax ways?"
"baby, don’t worry about it," he muttered without looking at you, still glaring at the girl like he was seconds away from drop kicking her into a display of instant ramen. "your taxes are my taxes."
"i don’t do taxes!"
"EXACTLY! AND THAT’S WHY YOU’RE PERFECT!"
the cashier looked terrified.
someone in the back whispered, "is this… is this a breakup?"
the girl shoved her cart away, muttering "whatever," but ino followed her with the energy of a raccoon defending a stack of stolen cupcakes.
"NO NO NO, COME BACK," he yelled, pointing dramatically. "YOU WANNA TELL HER SHE’S FAKE? SWEETHEART, THIS GIRL IS REALER THAN YOU’LL EVER BE. SHE CRIES OVER PUPPIES IN COMMERCIALS. SHE BELIEVES CLOUDS ARE ALIVE. SHE THINKS THE MOON HEARS HER WHEN SHE TALKS TO IT."
you tugged his sleeve softly. "it does hear me…"
"SEE?" he said, turning his whole body as if presenting you like a priceless exhibit. "SHE’S PRECIOUS. SHE’S DELICATE. SHE’S A LITTLE DUMB. AND I LOVE HER MORE THAN I LOVE BREATHING. SO DO NOT, AND I MEAN DO NOT, EVER SPEAK TO HER AGAIN."
the girl practically sprinted out of the store.
ino exhaled triumphantly, brushing his hands off like he had just ended world hunger. then he turned to you, expression softening instantly, like you were a lost kitten he found in the rain.
"baby," he whispered, cupping your cheeks, "listen to me. you’re not fake. you’re sweet. and beautiful. and soft. and kind. and if anyone ever makes you sad again, i’ll ruin their whole bloodline."
your voice trembled. "even the children…?"
"ESPECIALLY the children," he nodded solemnly.
you sniffed. "that’s so romantic."
he kissed your forehead. "i know."
you leaned into him with a tiny, wobbly smile, your mascara glistening under the store lights.
and ino, dramatic, unhinged, too loud for this world, wrapped an arm around you and walked you to the register like a man escorting royalty.
"baby, get whatever you want," he said tenderly.
"even… two lip glosses?"
he gasped. "get THREE."
and you did.
and he carried the basket.
and glared at everyone in the store like he wished they’d try you again.
•●HAJIME KASHIMO●•
you were just standing there in front of a festival stall minding your own sparkly business, holding a little bag of candied plums and smiling at the goldfish swimming in their tank like you were genuinely considering adopting one, and hajime, who had only come because you asked so sweetly he couldn’t think straight, was pretending not to stare at the bow clipped into your hair.
he wasn’t good at denying you things. or looking away from you. or breathing normally around you in general.
the insult wasn’t even clever. that was what irritated him first. it came from a man leaning against a food stall, arms crossed, wearing the kind of face that screamed my personality is being mediocre, and he said it loudly, intentionally, like he wanted a reaction.
"girls like that shouldn’t dress like that. she looks stupid."
you didn’t even hear the first part. you only heard the last word.
your expression fell so fast hajime felt something in him snap sharply, like a branch splitting in a storm. your shoulders curled inward, the little bag of plums drooping in your hand, and you turned your head slightly, trying to pretend it didn’t get to you, trying to blink away the sting with that fragile little smile you used when you didn’t want anyone to worry.
hajime worried anyway.
he took one step toward you, slow, steady, the way a storm might shift when deciding whether to break open the sky, before turning his head toward the man who dared to let that word leave his mouth.
"what did you say?"
hajime didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to. the air did it for him.
the man scoffed, shrugging like he hadn’t just committed a crime against the natural order. "i said she looks stupid. and you don’t have to pretend she doesn’t. it’s embarrassing."
behind hajime, you let out the softest, smallest exhale, like you were trying not to cry.
and that was it.
the lightning didn’t flash. it didn’t need to. it slithered.
thin ribbons of crackling blue crawled along the ground like living things, forked tongues of electricity licking at the dirt, curling around hajime’s ankles and coiling upward as if eager to be released. people around the stall stepped back immediately, instinctively, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the whisper of static against their skin.
the man tried to step back too. the lightning wouldn’t let him.
a bolt snapped to life, thin as thread, bright as hot metal, and struck the ground an inch from his shoe with a hiss that sounded almost like a warning, and the man yelped, jumping backward, clutching his chest like he’d seen a ghost.
hajime didn’t blink. he didn’t smile. he didn’t snarl. but his voice dropped low enough to make the lamps overhead flicker.
"you don’t get to speak about her."
another bolt snapped at the man’s heel, herding him like prey. he stumbled, tripping over himself as the lightning followed him, biting at the air around him, nipping at the edges of his clothes, never touching, never burning, just terrifyingly close, precise in a way that made it infinitely worse.
"w-what- hey- stop- make it stop-!"
hajime tilted his head in quiet calculation, tapping one finger against his thigh like he was weighing the cost of letting the lightning have its fun.
"i didn’t tell it to start," he murmured calmly. "it’s reacting."
the man screamed when a bolt whipped across his path again, and he took off running, the lightning chasing him like a pack of electric wolves until he disappeared into the crowd, hair standing on end, clothes smoking faintly, dignity completely obliterated.
the lightning faded, the air settled, the world quieted. and hajime turned toward you, expression softening in a way that should not have been possible for someone who had just weaponized the atmosphere.
you were staring at him, wide eyed, plums still clutched in your hand, lip trembling in that way that always made him want to pull you into his chest.
he stepped closer. "don’t listen to pathetic men."
you swallowed, voice barely holding. "but… he said-"
"he was wrong."
you stared at him like he had just said the sun rose because of you.
"i… i just didn’t think i looked stupid."
"you don’t." he didn’t hesitate. he never hesitated with you. "you never could."
"but people say-"
"i don’t care what people say."
your eyes dropped, lashes fluttering, and he could see the hurt still lingering beneath your skin. he hated it, hated that one meaningless voice could bruise you like that. so he reached out, slow, deliberate, enough time for you to pull away if you wanted, and gently tucked your hair behind your ear.
it was intimate in a quiet way. dangerous only because it was sincere.
"come on," he murmured, nodding toward the game stalls. "you like the fish, right?"
you blinked. "the fish?"
"you can pick one. i’ll win it for you."
your face brightened, so sudden, so sweet, so easily lit back up by something soft, and hajime felt the storm inside him loosen for the first time since the insult hit your ears.
"really?" you whispered.
"really."
you linked your arm through his like he was the safest place in the world, and together you walked away, leaving behind a scorch mark on the ground and a man somewhere in the festival reconsidering every choice he’d ever made.
and hajime, quiet, steady, strange, let you pull him along, thinking only one thing.
you deserved worship, not wounds. and anyone who forgot that would learn exactly what lightning was capable of.
•●HIROMI HIGURUMA●•
you didn’t cry right away.
higuruma had always admired that about you. that bright, gentle softness that somehow still tried to hold steady even when someone was cruel to you. the two of you had been walking through the courthouse lobby, you bouncing beside him with a little iced drink and a pretty bow in your hair because you liked "supporting him at work," and he’d been listening to you ramble about how the metal detector "felt mean today" when it happened.
a woman, sharp eyed, all clipped judgement and professional spite, walked by, looked you up and down, and muttered just loud enough, "some women have no shame. embarrassing, really."
and you… deflated. just a tiny bit. like someone poked a hole in your sunshine.
your steps slowed. your drink stopped bouncing. your smile wilted at the edges, and higuruma saw it. saw the way your shoulders curled inward, saw how your sparkle dimmed, saw how you tried to pretend you didn’t hear it even though your fingers trembled around the plastic cup.
you whispered, "did she… mean me?" and it was so small, so soft, so unlike your usual bright self that something cold and quiet snapped in him.
higuruma didn’t raise his voice. didn’t shove. didn’t threaten.
he simply turned on his heel.
"wait-" you tried to grab his sleeve, but he’d already crossed the lobby with that long, steady stride that meant someone was about to ruin their entire week.
"excuse me," he said, calm as a blade sliding out of its sheath.
the woman turned, annoyed. "yes?"
"i’d like you to repeat what you said," higuruma replied, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in that terrifying way people get calm right before a storm hits.
she scoffed. "i didn’t say anything."
he arched a brow. "that’s interesting, because i have an excellent memory. and a legal background. and-" his eyes lowered, sharp "-a deep, personal investment in ensuring the people i care for aren’t slandered in public spaces."
her confidence faltered. "i don’t know what you’re implying."
"let me help you understand," he said softly, leaning in just enough that she stiffened. "when you direct hostility toward someone who has never harmed you, someone who is simply existing with joy, that is called harassment. and you did so in my presence."
you tugged lightly on his sleeve, whispering, "higgy… it’s okay…"
he shook his head once, barely, but firmly.
"no," he murmured, not taking his eyes off the woman. "it isn’t."
the temperature in the lobby seemed to drop. he didn’t shout, he didn’t need to, every carefully measured word was a scalpel.
"you don’t get to wound someone kind and walk away unscathed. so you’ll apologize. properly. or i will ensure today becomes significantly worse for you than any thirty second apology."
her face went chalk white.
"i… apologize," she blurted, bowing stiffly toward you. "i shouldn’t have said that."
you blinked, startled. "oh! um… okay."
higuruma didn’t move until she fled the building. only then did he turn to you, the ice in his eyes melting instantly into something soft and unbearably tender.
"hey," he murmured, brushing your cheek with a knuckle, "look at me."
you did, a little unsure, a little shaky, a lot sad.
"you’re not embarrassing," he said, voice low but steady. "you’re not shameful. you’re not anything she tried to make you feel. you’re gentle, and bright, and good. and people like that woman… they resent what they don’t understand."
your lip wobbled. "you… really think i’m bright?"
he exhaled, something like a laugh breaking through. "you’re blinding."
you blinked hard, eyes going glossy. "higgy…"
"come here," he said, opening his arms.
you stepped into them like it was instinct, burying your face in his chest while he held you with the kind of care that made you feel small in the safest way. his hand smoothed down your back, slow and deliberate, grounding you.
after a moment he added, quieter, "next time someone talks to you like that, don’t absorb it. send them to me. i’ll handle the prosecution."
and you giggled, soft, watery, but real, because only higuruma could weaponize legal jargon in the name of love.
he kissed your hair. you squeezed him tighter.
and somewhere behind you, the courthouse security guard muttered under his breath, "god help the next person who insults that girl."
•●RYOMEN SUKUNA●•
the thing about being loved by sukuna, truly loved, in that warped, ancient way he felt things, was that most people didn’t understand what it meant to speak about you in his presence. they didn’t understand fear the way his kingdom did. they didn’t understand that every word spoken within those walls was a thread tied directly to their life.
so when a foolish man stepped forward in sukuna’s throne hall, bowing only half heartedly, muttering something under his breath about you, something mocking, something sharp, something meant to reach you where it hurt, the entire room froze.
you froze too.
the words hit you like a slap. too stupid. too soft. too pretty to be worth anything.
your chest tightened. your eyes burned. you looked down at your hands because you didn’t know what else to do with your face, didn’t want anyone to see it crack.
and that’s when the temperature of the room changed.
sukuna didn’t rage. he didn’t snarl. he didn’t even stand.
he just… looked at the man. slowly. deliberately. with the kind of ancient boredom that meant something catastrophic was about to happen.
"repeat what you said," sukuna murmured, voice low and almost lazy.
the man swallowed. "i-i merely said the girl-"
"is mine," sukuna finished for him, eyelids lowering. "and you opened your mouth as if your opinion mattered."
you tried to take a step forward. "kuna, it’s fine, i don’t care-"
he didn’t even look at you.
"stay," he ordered softly, and your legs obeyed before your brain did.
the man began shaking. "m-my king, i didn’t mean-"
"you did," sukuna said, rising from his throne with the slow, terrifying grace of something that had never once feared consequences. "which is why your apology means nothing."
the man fell to his knees.
the hall fell silent.
and sukuna smiled. small, cold, amused.
"insulting what belongs to a king," he said, "is not a crime you get to commit alone."
the man paled. "my- my family-?"
sukuna shrugged, as if discussing weather. "your blood chooses to produce worms like you. the lineage is flawed. i’ll correct it."
you gasped softly, eyes wide. "sukuna-"
"you," he said with one pointed glance in your direction, "have already been wounded today. i won’t allow the same sting twice."
and before the man could speak, before you could process the dread curling in your stomach, sukuna lifted a hand, not even violently, not even theatrically, just lifted it, bored and regal.
it was done.
the man vanished. his name vanished. his ancestors vanished. every remaining thread of lineage swept clean as if it had never existed, a quiet erasure only a king of curses could perform.
you stood frozen, eyes wide, heart pounding.
sukuna turned back to you as if nothing had happened, as if he had merely dusted his hands of dirt.
"come here."
you hesitated, throat tight. "you didn’t have to-"
"i did," he interrupted. "because you looked at the floor. because your voice shook. because someone dared to bruise you with their words."
he reached out, cupping your cheek with a hand still warm with power.
"you do not understand your worth," he murmured, eyes burning into yours. "so i will carve it into the world until it does."
your breath stuttered.
"but… wiping out his whole family-?"
"they were weak," he said simply. "and you were hurt." his thumb brushed your bottom lip. "do not cry over insects, little one. your king is watching."
and in that hall, with the cold echo of his justice still lingering like smoke, you felt it again. that terrifying, impossible truth.
being loved by sukuna meant being worshipped.
being worshipped by sukuna meant the world would burn before he let it touch you.
•●TOJI FUSHIGURO●•
toji had never claimed to be a good man, or a patient man, or even a man who understood the concept of "proper public behavior," but everyone agreed on one thing.
he was terrifying.
you, on the other hand, were… not.
you were soft in every direction. soft voice, soft smile, soft brain, walking through life with the kind of sparkly, clueless warmth that made total strangers want to hand you free stuff just because you looked like you’d say thank you in a cute voice.
which is why people usually didn’t insult you. they didn’t want to, they physically couldn’t. you were too sweet to hate.
except for the man currently standing at your table.
some nobody with a bad haircut and worse teeth, leaning down like he had the right to breathe the same air as you while saying something that immediately made toji’s jaw flex the way it did right before someone’s bones broke.
"girls like you," the man said, voice dripping with something ugly, "should probably stop dressing like you’re begging for attention. it’s embarrassing."
you froze. not dramatically. not loudly. just this tiny, trembling pause, lip glossy and wobbling, eyes going shiny, fingers tightening around your straw like you were trying not to cry in public.
the kind of hurt that sank fast, quick, deep.
and that was it.
that was all it took.
toji didn’t even stand up with any urgency. he rose slow, controlled, calm, the calm that made grown men rethink their entire life choices, and the stranger didn’t even notice until toji’s shadow fell over the table, swallowing him whole.
you whispered, "toji… he said something mean-"
"baby," toji murmured, brushing his thumb along your cheek without looking away from the man, "i know. cover your ears for a sec."
you obeyed instantly, hands pressing to your head, wide eyes watching through your fingers.
the man scoffed. "what, is your-"
and then toji grabbed him. not by the shirt, not by the collar. he grabbed him by the throat.
one clean, fluid motion, a hunter lifting prey like it weighed nothing, and slammed him against the wall so hard the picture frames rattled.
the man couldn’t even breathe to scream.
toji leaned in, voice low, vicious, almost bored. "repeat what you said."
the guy sputtered, clawing uselessly at his grip. "n-no-"
"louder," toji snarled, tightening his fingers just enough to make the man’s eyes bulge. "go on. she didn’t hear you the first time. i want you to make it real clear."
"i-i’m sorry," the man choked.
toji turned his head slightly. "sweetheart, uncup your ears."
you lowered your hands shakily.
toji shook the man like a ragdoll. "say it to her."
"i’m- i’m SORRY," the man wheezed, face purple, body dangling. "i’m- I WAS WRONG-"
toji’s voice dropped into something cold and delightfully cruel.
"about what?"
the man sobbed. "s-she’s pretty-"
"and?"
"and i shouldn’t have- i shouldn’t have said anything-"
toji lifted him higher, the man’s feet kicking uselessly. "and you’ll never talk to her again. or look at her. or breathe too close. or exist on the same sidewalk."
"y-yes- yes- i won’t- i swear-!"
toji released him like dropping garbage. the man hit the floor and scrambled backward on all fours, sobbing, tripping over himself to escape out the door.
you watched him go, then looked up at toji with big, watery eyes. "…toji?"
he turned and the moment he saw your trembling lip, all the monster melted out of him, replaced with something strangely soft.
he crouched in front of you, huge hands settling on your knees. "sweetheart. did that idiot make you feel bad?"
you sniffled, nodding. "he said i dress like i’m… begging for attention…"
toji huffed a humorless laugh. "you’re begging for my attention. that’s different."
you blinked. "oh…"
"and you look fuckin’ amazing," he added, wiping a tear with his thumb. "if some worm feels threatened by a girl being pretty, that’s his problem. not yours."
you brightened a little. "so… i don’t look embarrassing?"
his jaw flexed again, not angry this time, just pained by how earnestly you meant it. "baby. you make people crash cars when you walk by."
"…really?"
"yeah," he smirked, leaning in. "and i like when people stare. gives me an excuse to break noses."
your cheeks warmed. "you’re so… romantic."
"yeah," he said bluntly. "i know."
and then he stood, scooped you up with one arm like you weighed nothing, and carried you out of the restaurant because your feelings were hurt and that, apparently, was a war crime.
as he walked you to the car, you looked up at him, still sniffling a little. "toji?"
"hm?"
"this doesn’t mean i can’t wear short skirts anymore, right?"
he stopped walking, blinked, and then grinned like a wolf.
"baby, if you ever stop wearing short skirts, then i’ll be embarrassed."
you kicked your feet happily.
and somewhere behind you, the man who insulted you crawled to safety on his hands and knees.
toji didn’t check if he survived. he already knew he wouldn’t be insulting anyone ever again.
•●SHIU KONG●•
shiu was not a man known for his patience. or his kindness. or his emotional regulation skills.
but when it came to you?
he was practically a saint compared to the rest of his life.
which was why the meeting already had him annoyed. he hated being indoors for this long, hated listening to men who thought they were important, hated every second he wasn’t beside you.
but then one idiot opened his mouth and ruined his entire self control streak in under three seconds.
it started with a laugh, condescending and sharp, that made shiu’s eyebrow twitch before he even processed the words. the man across the table, some cocky newly appointed executive, leaned back in his chair and said loud enough for the whole room to hear, "you know, kong, your little girlfriend’s got nothing going on upstairs. pretty, sure, but god- she talks like her IQ’s room temperature."
the room went dead silent.
shiu didn’t move. not for a full five seconds. and everyone who knew him, truly knew him, understood that the stillness was what meant they were all in danger.
he set his pen down. very gently. very quietly. then he lifted his eyes.
and something in the air snapped like a tripwire.
"what," shiu said, voice calm in the way explosives are calm right before they blow, "did you just say about her?"
the man scoffed, clueless. "i’m just saying-"
"no," shiu cut in, rising from his chair in a deliberate, predatory way that made half the room flinch, "you’re not saying anything ever again."
the man opened his mouth to argue, but shiu was already across the table, fisting the front of his shirt and yanking him forward so hard the chair toppled over.
"you wanna criticize her intelligence?" shiu hissed, dragging him close enough their noses almost touched. "you? with that haircut? with that unlined cheap ass suit? with that face you clearly haven’t moisturized since the edo period?"
the man sputtered. "w-what-"
shiu didn’t stop. he was getting warmed up.
"you’re talking about her?" he sneered. "about her, who’s nicer to the barista who screws up her order than any of you are to your wives? her, who thinks every animal she sees is a sign from the universe? her, who waves at the moon because she thinks it looks lonely? her?" his grip tightened. "she’s got more heart in one nail polished finger than your entire bloodline."
the man whimpered. "kong- please— she’s just-"
"say it again." shiu’s voice dropped low. deadly. "i want you to. i want you to call her stupid again while i’m holding you like this."
"i-i didn’t-"
"say. it. again."
no one in the room breathed. someone in the back actually prayed.
the man’s eyes filled with tears. "i’m sorry," he choked. "i’m so- so sorry-"
"louder."
"i’m sorry!"
shiu dropped him like garbage and dusted his hands off, all while glaring him down like he hoped the man’s heart would stop from fear alone.
then, without breaking eye contact, he said, "apologize to her. not to me."
"wh-what?"
shiu leaned down, smile sharp and terrifying. "you’re going to walk your pathetic ass out of this room, go find her, and apologize. you’re going to tell her she’s bright and sweet and perfect. you’re going to beg forgiveness like your fucking soul depends on it. and if she cries? you’re going to thank her."
the man nodded violently, scrambling to his feet.
and then shiu, calm as a breeze, sat back down, flipped open his folder, and said, "so. where were we?"
nobody moved. nobody spoke. nobody even swallowed too loudly.
and one terrified executive, trembling so hard his legs almost gave out, bolted for the elevator to go look for you.
all while shiu smirked faintly to himself, thinking,
no one gets to talk about her like that. no one.
you later asked him why a random stranger bowed to you in the hallway and cried while apologizing.
shiu just kissed your cheek and said, "good customer service is rare these days."
•●NAOYA ZEN'IN●•
naoya always thought he was immune to embarrassment, mostly because he was usually the cause of it, but even he felt that strange tightness in his jaw when one of his childhood friends, another bitter, spoiled zen'in heir with the personality of a wet rag and the misogyny of someone who’d never held a woman’s hand, started running his mouth while you sat two seats away, stirring your drink with a pink straw.
it starts casually, or at least "casually" by zenin standards. they’re sitting in the estate courtyard, the men drinking, the conversation boring, the vibe toxic, when the friend leans back in his chair and laughs a little too loudly.
"women these days are so useless," he sneers, gesturing with his drink. "only good for looking pretty. no brains, no skills."
naoya takes a sip of sake and hums. a low, warning hum.
the kind that means: shut up before you embarrass yourself. but the idiot keeps going.
"like that one," he adds, chin jerking in your direction, "she probably can’t even spell her own name."
you freeze, just barely.
your straw stops turning, your glossed lips parting, eyes shining in that fragile way he hates, because he knows you’re sensitive, he knows words hit you harder than they should, he knows you pretend you don’t understand half the nasty things people say but you do, and it leaves bruises.
naoya’s friend keeps talking, digging his grave deeper. "pathetic, honestly. i don’t know why you’d even bring her here, naoya. what, trying to show her off? hoping she understands at least something? women like her should stick to-"
the snap is sharp. it’s naoya’s chopsticks breaking in his hand.
the whole table goes silent. naoya doesn’t look angry.
no, naoya looks offended. like someone insulted an ancestral treasure. like someone spat on fine silk. like someone disrespected his property in front of him.
and that’s worse. much worse.
he stands slowly, deliberately, every movement precise enough to telegraph violence. his friend laughs nervously, trying to brush it off.
"c’mon, naoya, don’t tell me you’re actually-" naoya grabs him by the collar so fast the man chokes.
"finish that sentence," he murmurs, voice so soft it’s terrifying, "and i’ll break your jaw so thoroughly the clan doctors will have to rebuild it from memory."
the courtyard goes still.
his friend tries to stammer, but naoya yanks him closer, eyes cold, lips curling in disdain.
"she’s smarter than you," he says quietly.
the man blinks. "w-what?"
"she’s prettier than you. kinder than you. more valuable than you. and if you ever speak about her like that again, i’ll personally make sure you never speak again at all."
you watch, wide eyed, hands clutched to your chest.
naoya’s friend looks between the two of you, stunned. "but you-" he croaks, "you always said women were inferior-"
"i said you were inferior," naoya snaps, shoving him back into his chair. "don’t get confused."
the man sputters, clutching his throat and naoya turns to you. just you.
his expression melts, barely, subtly, but enough that you can see it.
"come here," he murmurs.
you stand, shaky, and he reaches out, fixing a piece of your hair behind your ear like you’re the only person worthy of gentleness in a mile radius.
"don’t listen to idiots," he says simply. "especially ones beneath you."
"beneath me?" you echo quietly.
"everyone is beneath you," he answers without hesitation.
then, louder, directed at the entire room, "remember that."
Synopsis. By day, Nanami Kento is the perfect husband. Devoted. Loving. A gentle father to your two children. By night, he’s aching to stuff you pregnant with your third. CóckbIocked. Ravenous. Just waiting for the moment he can go…full-on beast mode.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, husband!Nanami, married life, domesticity, Papamin, Yuji and Choso cameos, interruptions, cóckbIocked by your oblivious sons, slight edgíng, 5 +1 things if you squint, FÉRAL Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), face-ríding, manhandIing, spítting, chokíng, fíngering, ROUGH s, cervíx kíssing, all over the house, big Ds, P TALKING, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, matíng presses, creampíes, cúmpIay, MARATHONS, heavy overstím, CÚMFLATION, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.1k
A/N. Based on the manga ‘By Day, a Devoted Husband. By Night, Full-on Beast Mode’ by The Waidan.
T-minus 5 days until the long weekend.
“Reading journal…pencil case…extra cap…” You’re rifling through the essentials stuffed inside your energetic son’s backpack. He was five already, and reaching that age where he just insisted he could do all those ‘big boy’ things by himself. “Hm…I think you have everything-”
“Really? Yippee—” Yuji’s pumping his fist in the air, before he’s immediately tugging the Spiderman-covered bag out of your hands and darting towards the open door. “Okay, momma- myfriendsareheregottogoloveyoubye-”
You watch after the blur of Spiderman and orange t-shirt in a slight daze, “Ah- right. I love you, b-” Before…you just slightly turn your head to the side, and in your peripheral vision you see- “Wait! Yuji, you forgot your-”
A hand on your hip. A strong figure by your side.
“Yuuuji—” A stern yet warm voice echoes, stopping the boy in his tracks in a split-second. “You’ve forgotten your lunch box, sunshine.” And towards the blond-haired man, you turn your head appreciatively.
Nanami Kento.
Your husband.
His overlarge palm cupped the side of your hips, and you’re only glad that Yuji couldn’t see from there the way that Nanami gives you a good squeeze—
“Kento-” With a breathy whisper, you’re swatting at Nanami’s chest. Right in-between his prominent pecs, where Nanami’s usual office shirt was pulled tightly over his broad front, buttoned up like a gift- and even then, you glimpse slivers of his white undershirt peaking out.
Nanami was just so naturally chiselled, in all the years you’ve known him. And you could swear that he’d only grown more built since expanding your family, with more hands-on labor - you guessed there was no better gym than a house with two children.
Slightly leaning up to him, you’re biting back a smile to mutter. “Yuji’s going to see.”
Nanami only softly chuckles, walking out through the front door to meet his son halfway. Dutifully, Yuji turns around so that his father can re-pack that haphazard bag of his, squeezing the (also) Spiderman-patterned lunch box inside.
The boy pouts, “I pwomise I packed it.”
“Mmm, I believe you.” He replies, with just a slight hint of amusement. And once Nanami was done zipping up Yuji’s backpack, he turns his son around and crouches down to meet him at eye-level. “But, next time, how about we double check, sunshine? Just to make it easier on poor momma?”
Yuji considers it for a second- “Okay!” Before he runs back down the smooth, grey-stoned pathway leading up to your cozy lil’ house.
Nobara and Megumi were already waiting for him beyond your house gates, and they slightly balked as they watch their friend’s father stand to his full height afterwards. Marvelling at those huge shoulders. His towering height. The way that Nanami Kento was just so large that his hair seemed to form a coiled, golden halo in the morning sunlight.
It casted shadows on his handsome, handsome features. Accentuating that kind smile of his, just the tiniest dimple at the end of his lips.
You couldn’t blame them - you were ogling him, too.
“You’re huuuuge, Mr. Yuji’s Dad.” Nobara squeaks, once Nanami has accompanied his son safely outside. She casts a tiny hand over her brows to shade it from the sun as she stares.
Nanami smiles shyly, and hastens to grip onto the lil’ handle at the back of Yuji’s backpack - likely to stop him from running into (soon) oncoming traffic, you knew what your son was like. “Why thank you, my dear. But you can just call me ‘uncle’ if you’d like-”
“Is your willy huge, too?” That question was, expectedly, asked by none other than Fushiguro Megumi. And you don’t have to look to know that the surly little boy was likely pointing, too.
Honestly- not even covering your mouth and gnawing down on the insides of your cheek can stop the bark of laughter from leaving you. Pwah! Your eyes crinkle into slits of amusement, and through them you’re catching the helpless look that your husband throws your way. Cornered by a vicious, merciless trio of elementary schoolers.
You’re waving your hand in front of him—a motion to just go on.
You wanted to see what he’d say (or not say). And Nanami just opens his mouth when-
“It is.” When all of a sudden, Yuji’s the one to pipe up with the long-awaited answer. Proudly, he’s turning to his laughing friends with his hands on his hips, “Once I needed to pee real bad when papa was showering, so I just went in and saw it- it’s huuu—”
“Look- look! The bus is coming.” Rapidly, Nanami claps his hand over Yuji’s mouth and diverts all attention towards the hounding yellow school bus that was crawling towards them now. Like an oversized caterpillar, of sorts, with the antenna and painted-on face in front to match.
And Nanami Kento was never a fan of these decorated school buses. Never a fan of those soulless blue eyes that a bus should honestly never have.
But right now it felt like the pearly gates of heaven had just opened.
He was bathed in warm relief, ushering the still-giggling trio inside the opening doors of the bus. With a kiss on his cheek goodbye, soon enough you and Nanami were waving off Yuji as he was ferried off to school.
Leaving behind only his gap-toothed grin, the clouded fumes of the bus, and you sighing- “Well, it’s certainly a loud morning.” You’re turning to Nanami, who was still slightly pale from the- ahem…discussion before. “You know, he’s already insisting on making his own school lunch? I just barely managed to keep it contained to packing only his school bag.”
Nanami snorts, “What- and survive on a pack of goldfish all day?”
“And the bugs from the playground, I don’t know why he keeps picking at those.”
Your husband throws an arm around your waist as you walk back to the house together. And his strong, heavy forearm almost seems reluctant to leave your body so that he can continue tying his work tie.
From where it was left off earlier- “Strange child he is.” He loops it ‘round that collar of his, and your eyes watch the bob of Nanami’s throat - so unintentionally attractive. “Can you believe that he’s five already? And Choso’s about to start middle school, they’re growing up too fast.”
“They certainly are.” You hum, handing over Nanami’s neat briefcase once he’s done. “I almost miss when they were just so tiny, and I could pick them both up at once- oh, but I do love them as is.”
He huffs out lovingly, that dimple making an appearance once more. “I know what you mean perfectly, my love.”
It’s a comfortable affair retracing your steps back to the front door, like you had with Yuji earlier. Though much slower, much more…lingering. You’re hanging by the frame of the door as he steps out, and just before he was about to say his goodbyes—“You know- I wouldn’t mind doing it all over again.” Nanami damn near snaps his head turning back to face you, looking you dead-on in the eyes. “The children.”
Two fatal blows.
Nanami’s eyes widen. Nanami’s mouth drops, drier than the Sahara right now. A thin line of perspiration glides down his face. And you watch his body almost step all the way back inside the house. Nanami’s fingers tremble on his briefcase, and you watch it slightly slip-
Before he’s managing to stop himself.
Shaking his head, the blond-haired man retracts his step and clears his throat. “Is that-” Faltering, he has to do so again. “I mean- ahem, is that so, my darling? You wish to have another ch-child?”
Slightly bemused, you only nod.
But of course, Nanami is paying laser-focused attention to each of your words, your signals. And you can see the bump of his Adam’s apple gulp—as he takes in just what you were implying. Tightening his formal silk tie ‘round his throat, “Then I believe, ah…I believe we should perhaps discuss this a little more. For both our own goods. I’ll be back a little early tonight, and we’ll talk through the um- details, is that alright?”
“Sounds good to me—” You hum, not oblivious to the man’s shattering composure inside. Nanami Kento hid it well - always so stoic, always so sensible, always so respected in his work place. On more than one occasion, you’d gotten comments from tittering women that they only wished they could have a husband that held it together even half as much.
But as his wife you knew it all.
And you knew when there was a chance that this stoic, sensible, stern Nanami Kento was about to…break.
So without a single second of hesitation, your dominant hand reaches out to grab him by the tie- simultaneously straightening it at the middle of his chest and dragging Nanami’s head down to meet yours in a soft, soft kiss. Just the slow slide of your lips. Sensual. “I’ll see you then, Kento.” Murmuring against his lips, you pull away with a smile. “Can’t miss the daily kiss. Have a great day at work~!”
A smile that utterly kills him.
Your husband walks slightly stiffly all the way to the car. And with a final wave, he’s speeding off down the street as if getting to work sooner might just make the day end sooner, as well.
With a slight giggle, you head back inside.
.
.
.
T-minus 4 days until the long weekend.
Unfortunately, that ‘discussion’ had to wait until the day after, because Nanami’s workplace had been overdue on a few proposals (inconveniently misplaced by the new intern, and conveniently handed to your husband). And he’d ended up driving back home past 12AM, after you’d already put both the kids down to bed.
With you so tired after a long day of taking care of the house and waiting up for him, how could he possibly even think of infringing on your precious hours any longer?
So all Nanami had done was clean himself up hastily, and carry you back to your shared bedroom where you’d been drowsing on the living room couch. Cuddling you to sleep. Promising that you’d talk about it the day after.
You understood, of course.
You and Nanami had been together for about twelve years, after all (if you wanted to know the exact date, down to the number of hours and minutes, you could ask him and he’d certainly remember). From lovers to a married couple, to being blessed enough to adopt Yuji and Choso when they were young.
Despite two bustling boys, you had to admit that yours and Nanami’s sex life hadn’t exactly died down.
Just a sneaky quickie before anyone woke up…perhaps getting handsy underneath the covers after a long day….And with Yuji now old enough to share a room with his older brother (they’d been begging for bunk beds for too long), you could finally start having sex at home again.
Perfect.
Right?
Except, well, it wasn’t exactly the same as it once was—
“N-ngh, fuck…” Your jaw drops open with a sloppy moan, saliva cascading out of you with a splosh! just as soon as Nanami’s stuffing you all the way to his hilt.
Here was the result of your ‘discussion’ tonight - if you could even call it that.
The trimmed golden hairs decoratin’ his base carnally scratch your clit, and you’re lewdly grinding yourself backwards. Every tiny movement leaves him stirring up your insides oh-so-perfectly, and your body wracks with shivers. “Please- please, Kento. S-start moving…”
“So needy.” Nanami’s crinkling his straight nosebridge as he stares you down, with your spine curved perfectly back into him. Those plump lips of his kiss a line down your back—long tongue coming out to taste your skin. “Missed you s’much. Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you-”
And with that, he gives a heaving thrust that makes you gasp and grab at the rickety headboard. You could feel the plumpness of Nanami’s tip throb-throb-throbbing at your throat- “Missed you, too. Been wantin’ for you to- ngh, fuck me so bad, baby.”
“N’ that’s exactly what I’m about to do.” He’s smugly crooning out, the curvature of his shaft just lightly puckering up at your sweetest spots - Nanami had you mapped out exactly.
Hard and fast.
Moving in slight bucks and grinds.
Smearing his reddened, swollen tip against your tender insides.
“Exactly about to fuh-fuck you until that pussy’s all satisfied.” The toned lines of Nanami’s hips rut into you like such an animal- and his meaty thighs push you further and further up the springy mattress. “To fill you up.” Leaving you whining wildly at his spears. “To pound a ba- mm.” Leaving you limp under his touch, leaving him reaching his hands over and cupping your tits so that he can manhandle you upright and at his mercy when-
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!
“Momma? Papa?”
And that was exactly why it wasn’t the same as before.
You freeze instantly.
Tiny sniffles ring out from the other side of the door, and the locked door handle jingles to no avail. Yuji’s small, scared voice pipes up, “Momma, I frew up…”
You look at Nanami, and Nanami looks at you.
“Shit.”
“Shit-”
He’s easing out of you with the loudest, messiest sluuuuurp—! Multiple ribbons of slick n’ precum combine to form a sheen that glues the insides of your thighs together, and you’re shivering at the feeling of his wide girth pulling out.
Letting off a slight noise of discontent as your walls clench emptily, cunt throbbing angrily for him to fuck you again. Your hips buck in primal instinct as you watch Nanami tuck himself back into his pants and put on his large shirt, though you have to hold yourself back - you were missing him already.
“Shhhh, shhh.” Nanami’s clammy palm rests down on your sticky thigh, and he’s carressin’ the skin there back and forth to soothe you. It works…somewhat.
And you’re making to move off of the bed, “I’ll get-”
“No, let me.” Firmly, he’s pinning you back down just with that singular, clammy palm plastered to your thigh. Just that show of his strength is enough to make your glistening hole throb once more- and you’re forced to bite down on your lower lip to stop yourself from making a noise.
He lovingly taps your leg, and lets the bedframe creak in agony after him (you felt much the same). Nanami hums, “I’ll take care of it. You just get some rest, my darling. You did so well.”
You’re burying yourself underneath the soft covers as the spike of light from the hallway enters the room. Nanami - fully softened now, fully shook of the shreds of carnal desire within him - opens the doorway to crouch in front of his teary son. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll read you a bedtime story, how about that, sunshine?”
The pink-haired boy nods, “Mhm!”
By the time he got back, you were peacefully slumbering away.
Nanami Kento only fixed the straps of that cute nightgown you were donning once more, snuggling up to you underneath the covers with the half-asleep promise of a proper (proper, this time) discussion tomorrow.
.
.
.
T-minus 3 days until the long weekend.
Nanami Kento was hungry.
Famished.
Absolutely ravenous.
He’d made it only two steps after getting home early from work. Inside your sweet-smelling kitchen, the scent of vanilla and summer heat in the air- before your strong husband was sprawling you out across the marble counters and lavishing his long tongue down the side of your cheek.
Swirlin’ tastebuds licking away the smudges of cream on your skin, “Mmm—” Nanami’s groaning against the side of your face, his scorching breath simmering against your flesh. “Something smells…” His fingers slipping down between your trembly legs- “-sweet, darlin’.”
And before you know it - fuck, before you can even think of it - you’re gnawing down on the edge of his plush deltoid.
Your moans cracking at the back of your throat as he’s slipping his way inside, the deliciously curved tip of his cock stuffs against the roof of your cunt. Burrowing out a bruise there that makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull, “Shit- I swear you become bigger- ngh, every time.”
“Mmm, that’s because this pretty pussy’s been missing me too much.” He breathily chuckles, a slight hitch in his breath as your sloppy walls clench. “Probably harder for her to take me every time.”
“No no, I swear—” With a whine, you’re arching your back in a signal for him to rover past your folds even deeper. Teeth setting on edge once one of Nanami’s thick veins grope into your slobbery insides, stretchin’ out your cunt to his sheer size.
He was being so gentle. He was being so loving. He was absolutely ruining your pussy on his half-thrusts- just trying to fit inside.
Probe after probe, the slippery line of his slit leaves your mouth watering. The perfect crevice that renders you babbling away stupidly, “I swear you get even bigger whenever we- hck! talk about—ngh.”
“Yeeees?” There was something wild in your husband’s eyes, boring down at you through his clammy blond strands. It was just so fuckin’ cute the way that you lost your train of thought anytime Nanami’s length went mazing inwards- “Whenever we talk about what, my love? Haaaah, finish your sentences.”
As he tuts you’re gasping—and he knows exactly what you’re alluding to. “Whenever we t-talk about-”
“Mhm—?”
Drooling mouth snapping open, he’s bottoming out. “Ba-” Directly hitting your cervix with the crowned, globular end of his shaft. So, so reddened with need. “Bab-”
“Momma—? Papa—?” A voice calls out, young and painfully oblivious to what was obscured in the kitchen. In the distance, you could hear the slamming of the front door.
A bag being set down on the table.
Footsteps.
Choso’s voice echoes out once more when he doesn’t receive an answer, unused to not having his parents respond to him immediately. You could hear the slight pout in his voice even from here- “Can one of you help me with my homework—?”
Mercifully, Choso doesn’t enter the kitchen - instead, keeping himself confined to the television room where he was starting to set out his school books. Choso doesn’t take a peak at where you’d urgently disjointed yourself from Nanami, smoothing down your upturned skirt and taking a look at the clock-
“Oh my goodness, I forgot his art classes were cancelled today- it’s time already.” You gasp, reading the ticking face of the clock that knew what you two just did.
Apologetically, you’re whipping your face around to face Nanami - who was back to tucking his softened length inside in a way that reminded you of just last night. Despite the slight furrow between his blond brows, Nanami shakes his head understandingly. “S’just time.” He grunts, zipping his pants back up and wiping away the droplets of sweat on his forehead. Your husband kisses your temple, “We’ll find some other time, my love?”
“Mhm.” Heart fluttering at the soft peck, you watch as his hulking frame walks out of the kitchen to help Choso with his homework. “We will…”
Though, a part of you doubted you might.
But you hoped.
.
.
.
T-minus 2 days until the long weekend.
“Fuck…” Nanami’s peering down at you through partially-cracked lids, and from down here it looked as if his molten peripherals were almost made of fire.
Burning straight at you underneath his professional work desk. Trying for al his will not to flutter them shut at the feeling of your lavish tongue gliding down his cock—“Fuck, my love- that mouth of yours is absolute sin.”
He’d been wading through some important work documents before you’d ambushed him in his office. Before you’d simply dropped to your knees and fumbled with his shorts like you were a woman starved.
Lappin’ all over his thick, throbbing like the shiniest of lollipops.
Lick after lick.
Your saliva-glazed muscle flattens over the top of his cock for a few seconds. “Mmm—” You’re vibratin’ out your moans against his length, and it sends sparks travelling all the way down from the line underneath Nanami’s plum-colored tip. Where your husband’s shaft was just dribbling out hot wires of pre down to your tastebuds, puddlin’ all over. “Tastes sho, mmm, nice-”
“Oh- fuck!” His head falls back against the back of his chair, and you catch the way that Nanami’s Adam’s apple bobs at the feeling of your greedy tongue.
Just that sensual ridged texture- fuck, it was all that he could think about. A carnal scratch. The way you were flopping it right out into his most sensitive spots, drag-drag-draaaagging it along his elongated length.
Nanami’s right hand comes down to grip his base, and you’re whining as he lifts his shaft off of your open tongue. With a chuckle, he’s placing his cock side-by-side with your face- and your cunt throbs at the fact that his nine, massive inches looked incredible up so closely.
So sensually rubbin’ his girthy hilt up and down the corner of your mouth. Just teasing.
Up and down. Up and down. Up and down—
“Shouldn’t be saying these dirty things with such a s-sweet mouth, y’know?” Nanami tuts, merely lining the edge of your lips with a gloss of your pre. He was so hot and syrupy—practically melting against where your tongue was darting out to try n’ taste him even more. “Should control yourself- what if- fuck.”
“Mmm—” Moaning, you’re managing to press his rotund tip against the middle of your tongue once more, starting to suck.
“What if you say those things and- oh, you’re too loud, hm?” He prattles away still, mouth working overtime whilst you stuffed yours. And yet…and yet even disciplined Nanami Kento couldn’t stop himself from bucking off of his cushiony chair, “What if- haaaah, if you’re too loud and the boys hear-”
“Momma—! Papa—!”
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!
Nanami groans, “-us.”
Ah, well…you’re removing yourself from Nanami’s still-twitching cock. Red-hot. Rock-hard.
He was so needy that just wrenching yourself off with a wettened plop! makes Nanami’s hips chase the soft insides of your mouth, a translucent wad of precum spraying out of him instantly.
And as he looks down at you with a dismal face, you’re managing out a smile. “I’ll go see what it is.” And Nanami Kento thinks that he might as well pass out before any ‘next time’- because you’re pressing a chaste peck to his mushroom tip, and pulling his shorts up. “Next time, Kento.”
Nanami puts his face in his hands and lightly groans.
With a huffed giggle, you’re sauntering your way out of the office - knowing damn well just how intensely his eyes were locked on the sway of your hips. The way your thighs were more clenched than before.
“Alright-” Unlocking the firmly-shut door (thank goodness for Nanami’s foresight), you’re met with the tear-stained face of your oldest son. Snot-faced and bawling.
Your brows raise right up to your hairline as you take in the vision of your usually-calm Choso, turning your sights to his (only slightly tear-stained) younger brother beside him. Yuji, who hurries to explain what his brother couldn’t- “I wanted bubba’s comics but bubba wanted bubba’s comics, so then we got into a- um, ah…” Slightly squirming underneath your stare, your boys knew you hated when they fought. “-scuffle, and then I got bruised.”
He raises a chubby hand up, and you can easily spot the faint blue-ish mark on his forearm.
Yuji looks at Choso, “But bubba’s the one crying.”
And that was being generous, Choso was all but choking on his sobs. Taking one look at the bruise you were appraising - the place where he’d either directly or indirectly hurt his little brother - and bursting into peels of cries all over again. “I’m so- so- sor- wahhhh—”
“Aaaaalrighty then-” You hasten to pick up your oldest boy, with slight exertion due to his size. Though when you finally do succeed in hoisting him onto your hip, he wraps his arms around your neck and buries his wet face into it. “Now, how about we go downstairs and make ourselves a cup of hot chocolate, hm?” It seems to calm Choso down a bit. “Maybe we can even watch a movie- a movie night?”
“Yippeeee—” Yuji squeals, arms raised as if he wanted to be carried, too. “Me as well?”
“All of us.” Comes a deep voice, and Nanami’s finally making his way out of the office. Having calmed himself down, he carries his younger son and places an innocent peck on your temple.
Choso gags, “Bleh!” Whilst Yuji only giggles - and despite the slight embarrassment coursing through your body at your husband’s obvious loving gesture, you were glad to have Choso express anything other than sadness.
You’re starting to walk as a family, “Now, who’s up for some Kpop Demon Hunters?”
“Meeeee–!”
.
.
.
T-minus 1 day until the long weekend.
“Fuck-”
“Kento-”
“Fuck, just a bit-” He’s hotly whispering into your shoulder, blond strands tickling your skin once Nanami’s jerking his hips back and rutting them into yours. You could feel his thick, throbbing erection against the globes of your ass cheeks - so hard by now that you could count every throb.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump-
And with every furious pulsation, he’s jerking his pelvis forwards- almost thrusting. Dry humping you like an animal in heat. “Just- just a little bit.” So rough that the sheer force leaves you bending even deeper against the dining table, and Nanami has to loop his greedy hands underneath your body n’ jerk you backwards. Push. Pull. “Just want to feel you a little bit- haaah- my love.”
“You’re being so- oh.” Even though you both still had your clothes on, Nanami’s pryin’ aside those flimsy panties of yours to let his bulge smear against your naked cunt. “-so insatiable, Kento.”
And with a few more vulgar strokes, he’s finally answering. “Couldn’t stop thinking of you all day- no, all week, darlin’. I’ve been running into that damned office bathroom to fuck my fist like some- ngh, fuckin’ teenager all week now.”
“Oh, Ken—” With a mewl, you’re grinding your hips backwards- but the friction just wasn’t enough.
Just wasn’t the feeling of his incredible cock splitting apart your insides, and the way that you knew he could fill out your every orifice so perfectly leaves you wanting more, more, more. So without thinking much - without thinking at all, really - you’re whipping your body back around.
Nanami grunts at the loss of contact with your drippin’ wet core- only for a brief moment before he realizes what you’re really trying to do. And the blond-haired man eagerly leans his hips forwards when you start to fuss with the buttons n’ zippers on his trousers.
“Shit-” Impatient, you thrust your hand directly down his pants, and Nanami throws his head back with a sultry shiver at the feeling of your ravenous palm.
Accurately cupping his swollen erection, you feel him splurge out a slimy wad of pre at the mere touch. Just so sensitive. “We’re gonna hafta to be quick.” You’re murmuring, back to fiddling with his buttons. Pop! Pop! “Before they come back-”
SLAM!
“Momma, what’s for dinner?”
Pop!
The last of Nanami’s buttons are torn open- right before they’re forced back shut at the sound of your sons entering the home. It’s a team effort by the both of you, and you’re just barely putting your rumpled clothes back in place, making sure anything was covered, ready to act like everything was normal before-
“Oh, shit.” Your eyes drop back down to the place between your husband’s legs.
His erection had softened by now, and there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary…except for the massive stain of syrupy slick that’d been left by your grinding, gyrating cunt. It darkens the beige fabric of Nanami’s trousers like a puddle, glistening in the yellowish yolky lighting of the kitchen. Your hands are on him immediately - though, not like earlier. “Shit, Kento, you’re going to have to go-”
“Go?” Nanami balks, but he doesn’t resist when you start pushing him out of the second entrance to the kitchen. “Go where?”
The house you’d chosen for your family was one of those large, more open plans; and the kitchen itself had one entrance for those who accessed the house by normal means, and then one more entrance that opened up to the bottom of the house’s staircase. Ones that you lead him up the first few steps of, “Go change those pants!” You squawk. “I tell them that you’re- I don’t know, showering, or something!”
“Good thinking, my love.” He chuckles, clearly finding amusement in your panicked charge. With his palms raised in surrender, he’s making his way up- though, not before landing a peck on your forehead once more.
“Now!”
“Aye aye, my madam.”
Nanami (and his stained trousers) just barely makes it out of the kitchen before the boys walk into the kitchen, mud-stained and slightly out of breath still.
“Cho!” You’re admonishing before they’re able to take their seats, “How many times have I told you not to put your skateboard on the dining table? We eat there.”
“Yes, momma.” The dark-haired boy recites, listening to what you were saying and placing it on the floor. As he kicks it out of the kitchen, he turns to you and asks- “Where’s papa?”
Turning your back to your sons, you’re fussing over the dishes set on the kitchen counter now - what you were doing before you’d been…interrupted, that is. “Papa wanted to take a shower, it was getting a bit ah- hot in here.”
“This time of year?” Choso raises a brow, but doesn’t question it any further.
“Anyways-” You hasten to change the subject, “-why are you boys in so early today? Papa and I had just barely gotten started on dinner.”
And at this, Yuji jumps up in his seat- eyes sparkling as he slams his hands down on the table. “Oh, momma, you’ll never believe it. So Nobara said she had to go to some dentwist’s appointment and Megumi was feeling sick- so I went with bubba’s friends but then we decided to do some exploring- and then there was also this ice cream truck that—”
And so it went on. By the time that Yuji was done with his (condensed for your enjoyment, according to him) version of events, Nanami was back downstairs in a new pair of unstained trousers. The two of you quickly wrapped up dinner preparation, and used the boys’ help to set out the food.
In less than an hour or so, you were all seated around the rectangular table.
Nanami beside you, and your sons in front of you.
“So-” And, to your surprise, he’s the one starting off the conversation. Dinner always was quite a lively event with the four of you, with either you or Yuji being the ones that dominated the nightly discussions most days.
But to have Nanami be the one to start off? It must be something quite important…
So you all turned towards him, excited to see what he had to say.
He gulps down a bite of rice, and continues. “Remember that starting tomorrow there’s a long weekend, my loves. Monday is a holiday.” Nanami addresses all of you, in that soft tone that always makes you melt. Yuji cheers at the mention of such a thing- “It’s rare that we get a treat like this to be together, and I wanted to know what you all wanted to do on those days?”
“I’m fine with anything.” You hum, turning to Yuji and Choso.
“Something fun.” Choso stares off into space ponderously, “Maybe like to the park? Or a resort?”
You nod, “Fancy, I like it. And what about you Yuji?”
And, dear little Yuji - who’d been so patiently waiting for his turn to speak, who oh-so-sweetly hadn’t wanted to speak over anyone else - simply just burst. “Joypolis!” He stands up on his seat, and you don’t even have the heart to tell him to sit back down properly. Chanting, “Joypolis! Joypolis! I want to go to Joypolis—”
Choso’s eyes light as well, excitedly- “Oh- oh, can we?” Turning to face the two of you with pleading eyes.
And, of course, you’re turning to exchange a look with Nanami.
“Of course!”
You’re humming thoughtfully, “And since it’s for a few days, I’d heard of this really nice resort nearby that I think would be a nice place to stay at? We could make it a long stay for Saturday and Sunday, and come back on Monday morning.”
Expectedly, Yuji bursts into even more cheers.
“It’s settled then-” Nanami speaks over the cacophony of voices- and what was clearly not settled were the two boys, who were having trouble listening to your calls to not jerk the table lest they wanted to splash over the food. “Kids, listen to your momma.” Until, finally, some semblance of silence broke through—“We’re going to Joypolis.”
“Yippeeeee—!”
“Hell yeah-”
“Cho, language…”
Nanami chuckles, about to say something more about the plans for the weekend when-
BZZZZZZZZZZZ—!
In your peripheral, you see Nanami reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. Clearly, you imagine, it must be something important for him to forgo (his own) rule about no devices during dinner time. And you’re watching on in slight curiosity-
“Oh.” Nanami’s mouth slightly parts, a somewhat surprised expression dazzling his face. The longer the phone call goes on, the more dazzled he grows. “Oh?”
By then, even Choso and Yuji had quietened down. And you’re tugging on his elbow in slight concern, “Something the matter, Kento?”
He’s shaking his head, attention still on the call. “Oh?” Perhaps unable to communicate anything more eloquent, whoever was on the other end of the line seemed to have said something that made one of his blond brows raise. And for his tongue to finally work, “Have the kids stay overnight?”
.
.
.
T-minus 0 days until the long weekend.
In other words: 9 hours and 17 minutes into the long weekend.
Also in other words: 9:17AM, Saturday.
According to what you, Yuji, and Choso had derived from your instant interrogation after Nanami had set down the phone- it seems that your mother-in-law had won a raffle just that day. The prize? Tickets to a two-night trip to the hot springs of Oita.
Three of them - and she claimed that she didn’t want to spend the holiday with her friends who couldn’t move as well as they were once able to. Might as well give the kids the time of their life, huh? There was much to see in Oita, and they were practically bouncing out of their seats once Nanami had announced the change in plans - neither had been upset about the postponement of Joypolis, either!
With their sheer excitement, the two of you had trouble setting them down for bed. And they’d been jumping on yours like a trampoline before the clock had even hit five-
“After all—” Nanami’s mother had crooned, her eyes wrinkling prettily at the ends as she smiled - Nanami had her eyes, and her smile. The very same dimple at the end of her lips, “-it’s a lot of work taking care of kids, isn’t it? Oh, I was blessed to have one as sensible as Kento, but even then…”
“Certainly is.” You’re chuckling, setting the boys’ luggage down inside her house - one lil’ Spiderman suitcase, and another that was just pitch-black in color (it’d been a long night sorting and packing).
She’s nodding her greying-blonde head, “It’s important that the two of you spend some time together, too. Can’t forget that you’re lovers, as well as parents.” Looking towards your husband, who was firmly giving Choso instructions on how to keep him and his brother safe throughout all times of the trip.
You can feel your veins bubble up, and hope that the sinful evidence of these past few days don’t show up in your expression. “Th-that’s true, it’s quite important to have time for each other.”
“Besides- I’m sure the children don’t mind spending some time with their grandma, hm?” As Nanami finishes off his lecture, your two sons run towards their grandma and hug her tight- agreeing in tandem.
“I can’t wait for the hot springs! Bubba says he’s going to teach me cool new swim tricks, grandma-”
“That are within papa’s safety guidelines.” Choso gulps, feeling his father’s burning stare already. “And all end up with the both of us, as well as grandma, coming home to mama and papa safe and sound and perfectly alright. With no limbs missing and also no ugly souvenirs- only pretty ones, because momma deserves only the prettiest ones.” He recites, beaming back at Nanami’s bemused expression.
Your husband stands next to you and shrugs at your deadpan gaze.
With delighted laughter, Nanami’s mother looks up at the two of you. There was a somewhat knowing look in her eye- “You two don’t mind, do you?”
You glance at Nanami.
Nanami glances back.
You know you’re both thinking the same thing.
In unison—
“I-if you insist!”
.
.
.
10:08AM, Saturday.
A tender goodbye.
A hasty drive home.
A slam! of a door that you’re only later recognizing as your home door.
You could barely even remember anything before you’re suddenly back inside your home and turning to Nanami with a meaningful, “Kent-”
His lips are on you instantly.
Teeth clawing.
Moaning.
Ravenous.
“Fuck- shit, you’re so—” You’re languidly gliding your hands down Nanami’s front, feeling the way his ripped muscles ripple n’ flex through his thin shirt.
And Nanami’s panting so hard that every scorching breath simmers against your face, and as you speak- your husband’s gripping you easily by the back of the throat to re-slot your mouth over his. Unable to even speak past his crashing, open-mouthed kisses.
You’re whining as you tug down on his cold belt buckle, “Kento- mmpf, I want- fuck.”
And before you know it, you’re being pushed against the closest flat surface that Nanami Kento can find. You’re being shoved against the wall. You’re being pinned by the strength in his hips- grinding the raging hot erection already between his legs.
“Hngh, fuck.” You’re hearing him snarl in a ragged tone behind you, kissing your neck, your shoulder, down the length of your spine. “Fuck- fuck- fuck- fuck.” Each one was faster than the last, smooch after smooch after smooch, and there’s a dull thud! ringing out across the empty house when Nanami’s knees finally hit the floor.
“Oh my-” Shivering once his roughened fingertips latch onto your easy skirt n’ flips it upwards. You’re left practically bare, with only your flimsy cotton panties on as he holds up your skirt and shoves his handsome face nose-deep between your folds.
From behind.
Letting the straight edge of his nose bridge plap against your cunt, your jaw drops once you feel your husband filthily breeeeeeathe in—“Fuh-fuck, darling.”
Your knees feel weak already, “Kento, are we really just going to do this over here-”
“No.” Comes Nanami’s guttural mutter and oh…by the husky need in that tone, you already know that he’s far from sane. Already gone. “No, not at all.”
“Really?” Brows slightly raising, you almost want to look back- when another one of Nanami’s hands reach over and flip your restless body around. It doesn’t take him much to manhandle you with his incredible strength.
Your back against the wall. Your glistening cunt facing his mouth.
You’re still standing up. But one of your legs is being picked up and thrown over his broad shoulders, now you’re being held up with partially his support - mostly his support, you imagine.
And it’s with this position that he can take a goooood, long look at your pussy. Your puffy folds spreadin’ open. Your hole clenching around nothing. She was just so dripping wet with your honeyed sap, streaming right down your thighs—“No- don’t you worry, darling.” He mutters, and you wonder just who he’s talking to - you or your pussy, right now.
“Don’t worry, because…?” You’re babbling out.”
“Because-” Nanami’s gusting out with his hot, sticky breath clinging to your cunt. And he’s leaning in closer, closer, so much closer. Until the curve of his attractive chin edges towards the end of your cunt, “-because m’gonna take you here.”
And then your body flinches with a shock of pleasure as he leans his plump lips in and presses a firm peck to the front of your pussylips.
Sloppy and wet.
“And on the dining room table-” Mwah! “And in my office-” Mwah! “The kitchen-” Mwah! “And the- fuck, the bedroom-” He’s snarling, dimpled lips curling as he sniffs your sweet folds once more. “-gonna take you all over the fuckin’ house-”
All those promises - he can’t even finish them before your husband, Nanami, has his face stuffed between your pretty legs and his tongue lapping your cunt like a madman.
Darting to every slippery nook and crevice that his tastebuds can reach- first he’s sliding up n’ down your folds, lapping up the ounces of slick that spray out of you. “Mmmm—” His head throws backwards- or, at least, it tries to. Before that dark, carnal part of Nanami’s own self manages to stop himself, and his quavering hand guides one of yours to grab onto his blond scalp.
“Roughly.” Nanami gasps between your wet pussylips, his drool drenching it in a whole new layer of gluey liquid for him to taste.
Your mouth gapes, “You want it…”
The veins on his large hands pop out as he tightens your fist on his hair, “Roughly.”
Finally letting go of your smaller hands, Nanami’s then holding onto both sides of your waist- practically glued. Pushing and pinning you back down against the cold wall when his tongue slithers out.
So loooooong and lucious, he’s tingling your tastebuds over your swollen clit. “Mmm- mmpf-” Gurgling, gulping, swallowing the cloying wads of syrup that dripped to the back of his throat and alllll over the lower half of his face.
He’s grunting, “So sweet so- fucking- fuck- sweet.” You could feel your husband’s wet lips flapping away at your nub, before they’re finally parting and plunging between your pussylips like he was possessed. “Never gonna get used to this. This pussy- she’s the- hah, sweetest thing I’ve ever fuckin’ tasted- and I think I might just be addicted-”
“Shit- ngh.” You’re clawing at his sweaty scalp for dear life, because Nanami Kento was usually such a gentle lover. Usually so smooth. So slow. But now…“Oh my god- I don’t even want to ask what’s gotten into you today- fuck.”
It takes him a few vulgar strikes with his tongue to even think of responding- to even formulate a coherent enough answer.
And it’s only with a sloppy mwah! that he’s bringing himself to part with your dewy cunt, just the most lecherous damp noise ringing out in the air. When Nanami speaks out, it’s with his ribbons of saliva departing into your quivering hole. “Can you fucking blame me?”
Oh. Your eyes widen, “You- you really are-” Fuck, but his sloppy tastebuds are back to drilling into your entrance. His scratchy tastebuds plaster against the roof of your cunt, back n’ forth. “You really are pussydrunk? But the thing is- already?”
It’s easier for Nanami to detach himself from your damp pussy- with his two thumbs swervin’ down, he’s smearing apart your folds and spitting straight inside your hole once more. “Can- you- fucking- blame- me-”
It wasn’t even a question, and his lengthy tongue probes between your folds after each word. Slipping straight into your deepest depths, with the curvaceous tip of his muscle sticking in, in, in.
Again and again.
Preeeeeeessing into every depth, “Can you fucking imagine what I’ve been going through these- hah, these past days without you?”
“N-no?” His carnal strokes make you throw your head back with a whine, tears starting to bead behind your eyelids. “What have you been- fuck, you’re going in so deep, Kento.”
Though Nanami doesn’t even seem to hear you- “How can you blame me-” Like a mantra, he’s muttering between those swollen pussylips of yours, eating you out so raw that even the slightest movements of his lips make you see stars. “How can you blame me- hah, how can you blame me, how can you blame me—ngh.” The flatness of his sizzlin’ tastebuds moves back and forth into the roof of your cunt, making itself well at home there. “Not when I haven’t had dessert for a week now-”
“Haven’t had dessert?” You’re questioning, your senses slightly hazed by his ministrations between your legs. Is that what he’s been talking about going through? “What do you mean, baby, just last night for dinner we had-”
“No.” He says, meaningfully. And Nanami looks up at you straight in the eyes when he’s spreadin’ that wet muscle of his wiiiide open and probin’ into your hole- “I mean…dessert.”
Your back arches off of the wall, a perfect curvature. “Dessert-”
Your pussy.
Your mewling whines are cut off by the feeling of him pulling out of your cunt with a wet plunge, strings of your slick following his movements n’ still connecting his mouth to your core. There was something crazed in Nanami’s hazy peripherals, something utterly gone. “Yes.” He spits for the nth time into your cunt, swervin’ right past your folds. Pinning you down whilst you try to run, “Don’t you fucking run- don’t you fucking know that she’s my favorite dessert, darlin’?”
And then you sob. With a loud, primal sluuuuurp—Nanami’s splittin’ you apart from the inside.
“And I’ve been without her for too long, my wife.” Perfectly molding your channel to him, the cushy tips of his fingers open your entrance up- and oh, he’s digging them deeeeply into your tiniest orifices. Scissoring in a second finger as if it already wasn’t enough to have his thick joints pushing your insides apart. “How can a husband be expected to go so long without his wife’s pretty pussy?” Gently nibblin’ on your clit, “I’ve missed her.”
“I’ve missed this mouth of yours.” You don’t think you’ll ever get used to just how big his size was, the blustering crowns of his two fingerpads opening up your insides. He filled up every cranny- “Fuck, keep going.”
“You have no idea how- hahhh—” Nanami emits a breathy laugh, like he was in utter disbelief at his own self. And you watch as your husband’s jaw hangs open to collect the glittery wads of slick that constantly leak out of you, “-how fucking thirsty I’ve been. I would eat the sweetest sundaes after work- remember the ones I bought for us? Fuck, just imagining that was you.”
You’re shivering at his admission- he’d what?
But Nanami wasn’t done yet - in fact, he was only lapping away his tongue even harder. And when you get used to the caress of his velvety underside, he’s spanking it down on your clit. “Just wishing that was you on my tongue- but nothing would even come as close.” He gasps, “So now that I have you, oh, I could drink from this pretty pussy for aaaaages with how parched I am.”
You’re tugging at his hair, and Nanami only directs you to pull at him even rougher. To use him. Teasing, “And here I thought that large water tumbler of yours was enough-”
“Oh, my love, it’s not even close to enough- look at this-” You’re being guided to look down at the ropes of sap that he was tunneling out of you- chin hitting your chest. After each movement of his fingers, your slick glazes his wrist in splats.
Sensually, he’s ducking his head down to lick off the polish on his skin. Gleaming like glitter, Nanami moans when the candied taste hits his tongue- “You’re like a fucking waterpark f’me. And I’ve- hah, I’ve been dreaming about her for ages now. Been hungry. Been imagining-”
Lapping and probin’. A third crowned tip rovers inside and starts pushing in and out with the others, “Yes- yes yes yes yes-”
“I’ve had to run to the fucking- ngh, office bathroom more times than I can count.” He admits, spittling between your lips. “All because I spent a whole meeting imagining just how wet you’d feel on my tongue, mmm, like this.”
You’re crying out, bucking your hips into his- and though he might’ve usually pinned your squirming hips down for moving, teasing, now…now Nanami was welcoming those half-ruts. “More- deeper-”
“And look how eeeeeasy I can slip in-” With a final cobweb of saliva, he’s trying to pry inside a fourth finger—managing.
Nanami’s prolonged length empties out right near your cervix with harsh thuds, you could tell that he was searching for that sweet spot inside you.
Babbling away, Nanami seemed to be getting even more drunk on your pussy with each passing second. “Wanted to feel you dripping like this- aaaaaall up in my throat- see- watch.” Your husband commands, and with your head turned down like this you can’t help but watch the way he takes a big swallow of your slick. With a messy glistening face, he grins up at you. “If you could possibly be any- ngh, any fuckin’ wetter then I’d want you to in a second.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been wetter in my life, Kento.” As if to prove your point, even more tear trails of your slick drip down - all for Nanami Kento’s munching delight, of course.
“…Yet.”
And you know one quality that attracted you to your husband the most? It was the fact that, no matter what, he would do what he promised. He would deliver.
Because with a few more sultry slams, his long index is burrowing into your g-spot. Perfectly. It’s as if that bundle of nerves was a target, and Nanami’s able to slide his trimmed nails right where you wanted him to.
Your knees bend limply as the pleasure hits you, and you wail. “Oh- there!” Too gone in your own bliss, he’s actually holding up your weight with one of his strong arms now, looped at your waist.
“Found it.” You can feel his grin against your entrance, “And you did get wetter, my love—”
And he’d found it, alright. Constantly thump-thump-thumpin’ away near the back of your pussy with his relentless fingers, Nanami made sure that the plush pads of his digits would then graze your nerves- making you twitch n’ whine n’ buck in pleasure maddeningly.
“I- I don’t think-” With one of your legs raised upon his shoulders, it was just so easy to squeeze Nanami’s bobbing throat. Almost suffocating him. You blurt, “I don’t think m’gonna last long, Kento-”
“Good.”
The firmness with which he says that one word makes your entire body quiver- and you don’t know whether it’s because of his purely carnal tone, or the way he slithers his fingers inside your cunt, presses down on your g-spot and holds it there.
Unmoving.
No matter how much you squirm or whine.
And Nanami doesn’t waste a single second before he’s immediately trying to topple you over the edge of your high, “Because you don’t have to.” He pants, “Your dear husband is here for a- hah, a reason, my wife. Don’t you know?”
“A- a reason.” You’re babbling, and you don’t know which one of you is more gone by this point.
You’re having trouble holding yourself up, and Nanami claps his chin against the end of your cunt with enough pressure to keep you standing straight. His tongue teasingly rolling out over your clit, “M’here to make you cum.” Push after push, thud! after thud! “Because don’t you know…”
“Don’t I know- fuck, don’t I know what?”
His grin is just sinful—“Don’t you know that you taste sweeter when you cum, my love?” Said in such a tender tone, even though the slashes of his fingers were anything but.
In next to no time, you’re gripping one hand into Nanami’s hair and the other onto his shoulders as you cum all over his mouth. It’s in invisible waves ridden straight from the tip of his nose n’ down to lacquer his chin with gleam, “C-cumming.” Even though he already knew, “M’cumming, Kento. Cum- fuck, s’the best I’ve ever had.”
“Mmm, why thank you, darling.” He’s crooning out lovingly, not even a hint of teasing as he takes it on. All your pushes and bucks- until the skin ‘round Nanami’s mouth was red and raw.
Until his jaw aaaaaached.
And yet, he’s still eating you out through your high, the sparks of bliss absolutely leave you shaking. Toes curled. The top of your crown feeling light and airy- “Think you’ve fucked me- ngh…” Stupid. Even though you don’t say it out loud…at least, you don’t think you do.
But Nanami puffs out a slightly drunken giggle between your pussylips as he hears that word leave your mouth - without you even knowing. Realizing. Dutifully, your husband doesn’t tease you as he plunges his tongue in n’ out, in n’ out. “C’mon- c’mon, c’mon- oh. I was right, you do taste so sweet.”
You’re whimpering as he pulls his fingers out, feeling your convulsing shockwaves peter out into almost nothing.
And even then, Nanami rolls his thick thumb over your clit a few times- just to watch you shake and whine prettily above him. “Done cumming?” He asks, once he feels your body go slightly wobbly. And when you nod- “But I really do wonder if you’d taste even sweeter if I overstim you a little, darling…”
“Oh my god-” Your chin drenches with the spittle that falls out of you unbeknownst to your subconscious, just so sensitive that they’re about the same as the tears dripping from your eyes. “I don’t know if I even can cum so soon again, Kento.”
“We’ll never know until we try.”
He’s tracing squelching wet—hearts?
It feels even more teasing than usual when Nanami’s fingers are toying with your clit, because right now he’s drawing the cutest patterns to watch you react. The way you flinch even more when he draws a big heart- and that cute hitch in your breath when it’s a little one.
“So cute…” Nanami groans, fingers nothing but a blur on your cunt. Spreadin’ you wide open, you can’t believe that your husband then has the audacity to bear his canines and gnaw down on your puffy pussylips. “So sweet-”
“Kento-” You bawl, the pleasure making your senses all bleary. “K-Kento-”
“Oho?” Those blond brows of his raise in interest, and through your tears you can make out the pinkish outline of his tongue coming out to taste his slick-glossed lips. Purring, “It tastes like you’re going to cum again, my love.”
And that’s exactly what you do.
Hard and fast. This one takes you by surprise, just a surge of white-hot electricity that shoots up your spine and leaves your thoughts all muddled.
And, just like before, he’s dragging you through it incredibly. Through every peak of euphoria. Through every flash of bliss every time his slurpin’ tongue accidentally slipped past your entrance when he was sucking you dry.
“Cum- fuck, I’ve already….” Mouth dry. Body shaking. By the time that Nanami’s lengthy tongue has finished lapping up every droplet of your slick, you’ve felt thoroughly fucked through your orgasm. You honestly wouldn’t even have been able to keep yourself standing had it not been for his unrelenting grip on you, refusing to let you fall.
You lean onto his support, feeling your joints protest at the long time you’d spent in this position. “Kento, now I really don’t know if I can cum any- hck! more.”
But Nanami Kento could read what you were saying without saying.
He knew you well enough.
And you knew he did.
Just because you didn’t know doesn’t mean he sure as hell wasn’t allowed to try.
In an instant, your husband’s pulling away—mwah! All that sloppy slick that he wasn’t able to swallow now drips all the way from the tops of his cheekbones, and all the way down his chin. Partly down his neck. Nanami then grips your hips with a loving, pussydrunken smile. “But, when I have a wife that looks like you, my darling, how can I not make you cum?”
Oh.
11:57AM, Saturday.
“Oh my g-god—” Your voice is cracking out in both sobs n’ whines, dribbling out saliva like slick as Nanami’s rutting his naked hips against the globes of your ass cheeks.
It’d taken your husband only a few minutes to manhandle you from the threshold of your house entrance down through the house. Having to hold you up where you were so overstimulated, he’d carried you princess-style. Where he’d pressed you face-down against the polished mahogany of your dining room table.
All fours. Ass up. Cunt dripping.
You’d shivered as you heard Nanami’s pants hit the floor- his belt ending up in a heap with the rest of it with a loud clang! of metal on tile. And he was simply oooozing out thick pre at the sight of you bent over for him like this, just smearin’ it down your pussylips so that it looked like a gloss. “Mmm—” Nanami grunts out from behind you, his mouth watering at the hot feeling. “So pretty like this, my wife- fuck, so pretty.”
And you’re clawing onto the wood - trying not to make too much of a mess (you’ll have to disinfect this entire house, later) - as he just lightly smooooches your tight orifice with his mushroom tip. “Sh-shit- you’re so hard, Kento.”
“Mhm–” Nanami huffs out smugly- so drunk on his cock, you were craning your head over your shoulder to take a good look at him. “Admiring your husband?”
“Yes.”
In all his rock-hard glory. Nine entire inches.
Veins were zig-zagging down Nanami’s shaft, and they end where his sparse golden hairs start to decorate his hilt. He was just aaaaching to enter you- plump tip colored the prettiest shade of pink, almost as if his painful cock was almost shy to meet your cunt.
You can’t help but notice that it matched the blush creeping up on your husband’s ears, as he leans down and purses his lips to spit straight down to your cunt. Hitting his target dead-on, Nanami grins- “I wonder why we haven’t done it like this sooner, daring?” One of his hands attach to the side of your hips, and he’s just smearin’ apart your folds to take a good look inside. “Before me I see the tastiest fucking dinner I’ve ever seen-”
“Y-you’re so filthy, Kento.” You almost can’t even believe your ears, and you arch your back into his touch. Hamstrings quivering when you nudge your hips up into his, “Why don’t you just f-fuck me already- oh.”
“As you wish, my madam.”
Because he’s already entering you as you squeak out your demands - Nanami Kento was never a man that would leave his wife yearning and wanting, of course.
Anything you wanted, it was yours.
And the same went for his throbbing, hot cock- just the curved end of his shaft plops inside your elastic hole. Because of his sheer girth, Nanami doesn’t even have to try to push apart your tight pussylips - you’re already opening up lewdly for him.
With a cracked whine, your snug channel is gobbling his inches up with a sluuuuurp—making the blond-haired man raise his brows with a chuckle. “Oh- oh, my god.” He pants, breaths coming out ragged. “Ohhhh fuck- you’ve been needy, my wife.”
“I’ve been- hah, been what?” Pathetically, you can only turn your face ‘round to meet his and take it- because Nanami wasn’t letting you off easy just because he was rovering his thick cock inside.
No…in fact, he was pounding and pounding his flared tip past your tender orifice- or, at least, he was trying to. Despite the slight resistance of your tightness, Nanami has one hand on your hips, dragging you back into him with each thrust. “Fucking- needy-”
“Not as much as you.” You’re protesting, feeling the wetness of his precum mix with your slick to travel downwards. “You’ve been the one eating me out like you’re addicted-”
“And you’re the one swallowing me down like you’re trying to suck me dry, my love.” He’s bickering back gently, “Or…” And there was a tinge of something in his carnal tone that makes you shiver, “-should I put all the blame on her instead?”
Her.
Your sultry, wet pussy.
The one he was probin’ his split-ended cock into. The one that was making him grunt after every one of your slight squeezes. The one that was so cozily tight that Nanami had to hold onto your hips and jerk you backwards to try and fit himself all inside.
Jerking and pulling.
Manhandling.
When he feels the tight shield of you still trying to get used to his sheer size, Nanami properly loops his arms ‘round your thighs. And then he’s fucking holding you up- your heels dangling off the tile, your body supported only by the dining table and your husband.
Your geysering cunt purely at the mercy of him, him, him.
“O-ohhhhh, this pussy.” As he sinks in, it’s so good that Nanami hunches his bulky body over - as if he was breaking apart on your hole. Properly in half, breaths heaving out. With every inch of his globular cockhead spearing inside, you can feel Nanami grow more and more feverish. “Oh this pussy- oh, this- this pussy-”
You’re moaning at his broken mantra, “Nanami, are you fuck- alri-”
“The first time in- in what feels like ages that m’getting to fuck you the way I’ve been aching to.” He’s spitting out - literally, back down your sultry slit to make you even wetter for him. And with that, Nanami’s voice veers octaves higher. Crazed. “And you ask me whether m’fucking alright, darling?”
“Well I’d say you were becoming- ngh, pussydrunk already.” You’re whining out, staring into Nanami’s eyes and oh—they were so dilated.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen them this dilated.
They always were, whenever he was gazing at you. But to this extent? It seemed as if his entire iris had just turned back, and Nanami Kento was hanging on your every word, your every breath. You’re whispering, “But…but I think you’re even past that now.”
“P-pussydrunk?” He breathes out the word as if it was a joke- spits it out in almost distaste. Which was strange…because it was honestly one of his favorites. “You think I’d be pussydrunk by now?”
Confused, “Y-yes?”
Before you’re being shocked by a sudden burst from his hips, his meaty thighs striking the backs of yours until his skin there turns red. His blustering tip scrape-scrape-scrapes your insides carnally, and you can feel the line of his slit driving in even deeper.
“Oh, honey- oh, my love- oh, my wife…” Nanami’s droning on out, and if you were in any better state of mind then you’d have realized that the usually-eloquent Nanami Kento was slurring. Smack! Through your kaleidoscope of tears, you’re registering that the skin of his pelvis had just slammed into yours, a stinging impact.
Your husband pliably scoops you up, dragging your hips back down his shaft as if you were nothing but a ragdoll. Your gummy channel was being meshed apart for his upright erection, sliding down it slooooowly. Bit by bit. Inch by solid, throbbing inch. “Don’t you know that- hah-” Until you were fully bottomed out, “-I’ve been pussydrunk aaaaall week?”
All week?
Your mouth opens - perhaps to question him, perhaps to counterpoint him - but the only thing that echoes out is a sensual whine as he then starts ramming into you at a sloppy cadence.
Sloppy and fast.
Hard.
Nanami’s pulling all the way back till juuust the crown of his red tip kissed your entrance, then shoving back in until the hilt. Your orifice stretched all widely open ‘round his base, the spattering of curly golden hair tickling your folds. “Don’t you know?” Your husband asks, “Didn’t you know I’ve been- hngh, ruined on your pussy all week?”
“Ruined?” You repeat, clawing onto the table for some semblance of stability. “But we haven’t even properly-”
“Exactly.”
Oh.
He was now rutting into you like an animal, the curve of his luscious tip swabbin’ at your every ounce of space. “You don’t know how fucking greedy- how impatient I’ve- hah, I’ve been-”
And that surprised you, “Impatient?” Though, he was certainly fucking you like it. After every rugged bash of Nanami’s cockhead, he was surging back in for more - barely even letting the springy recoil of your walls start before he’s plummeting back in.
Again and again.
A particularly hard thud! has you feeling him at the back of your throat, and your cheeks stain with a few lacquer of tears. “I almost can’t believe that- oh-”
He’s pinning down your squirming hips, and you can feel the line of Nanami’s happy trail scritch-scratch your skin. “I am not a patient man, my wife.” He says, darkly. Holding you down whilst he fucks you like a madman- “I could barely hold myself back this entire week- could barely- haaah, you don’t know how many times I’ve almost cracked n’ called off work just to be able to stay home and fuck this pussy stupid for a few hours.”
“And- and then?” You’re hiccuping, feeling his slamming tempo get even faster. “Then what?”
“Oh, you’re enjoying this—little slut.” Pure shock sparks down your body at the words he was using - absolutely filthy. “Let’s see how much you like this then-” And before you know it, one of his hands lifts off of your waist to rover down to between your legs.
Nanami’s rough index and thumb pinches your clit- “Fuh-fuck! Kento!”
“Wanted to do that for so long.” He watches with relish as you shake beneath him, “If the boys weren’t there- ngh, you have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to just reach over as you ate and pinch this cute clit. Just to tease. Just to see if you’d gasp.”
“Please- please-”
Only toying with your sensitive nub even harder - no matter what, he was always such a rough player. “Wanted to see if you’d scream my, mm, name like that.” Now alternating with his sensual drags of your clit, and rough rolls of his thumb flat. “If this hole of yours would get even wetter because—fuuuck.”
And then the girth of his length starts snaggin’ against your pussy walls, every ounce of blood in Nanami’s body flowing to his cock and swelling it up even further.
“-because I’d sure get harder when you do.”
Just as he said, he had.
Your head lolls stupidly in front of you- but of course, Nanami couldn’t have that. So he’s using his free hand to help you rest your clammy scalp back against his shoulder, so bent forwards that it wasn’t much of a stretch, honestly.
Like any good husband, Nanami Kento wanted to gaze lovingly into your eyes will he fucked you deep.
“Aaaand then there’s this spot-” Plop! The raw vibrations start from where he’s bashing in your g-spot, set your teeth utterly on their edges. He angles his hips so that it digs a pretty bruise right there on your nerves, “-this spot that I looooove- n’ I know she loves me, too. Because she’s- haah, squeezing me so tight- never wants to let me go-”
“Right there-” You cry out, as if that wasn’t already obvious. “There there there there- faster, Kento.”
Precisely, Nanami’s smoochin’ away at your g-spot - with such incredible accuracy that your dazed mind starts to wonder whether he has some sort of superpower that lets him calculate the ratio. The speed of his hips- the vulgarity. He’s viciously gnawing down on your ear as you try to buck, “Just how many times have I squeezed my c-cock like this, just imagining that it was you-”
“You h-have?”
“Mhmmm, and all those times I’d fuckin’ salivate just imagining—” There’s almost a pout in his voice, something so starkly cute whilst he tunneled into you savagely. “But it never was quite the same.”
“I thought about you so much, too, Ken.” You admit, your thighs clenching together- which your husband easily swats away to start twisting your clit even harder. “Wanted you to fuck me just like this-”
A sultry smile spreads across his lips, “Oh yeah? And was it just like this?”
“Mhm—” You’re fervently nodding, “Just like this and I- also…” And only at Nanami’s reassuring look do you continue, “…you also had your- hah, your leg up.”
“My leg up?” Nanami asks, “Like…this?”
There’s a thud! and then a clutter once one of his meaty thighs rests up on the table, capped knee coming to rest where your peripheral vision could see. This change in angle made him just enter his round cockhead into completely deeper parts of your womb.
Swirlin’ around your gummy walls, just pushing his bawling divot into spots you didn’t even know existed. Again. And again. And again and again and again—
“And you know what I was fantasizing about?” He’s panting out in scorched waves, hips leaving a fever pitch.
“Wh-what?”
“Ohhh, you know…just like this-” You could hear the grin in his voice, “-fucking you rough. Fucking you hard, feeling your hot pussy for the first time in- hck! ages. I’d been missing her so much, taking her so much. My favorite lil’ meal- oh, I really want to taste you right now…”
Arching your back into his glissading abs, “Kento, don’t stop. I feel like I’m about to-” Cutting yourself off with a breathy intake of air when he’s drawin’ hearts on your pulsating nub.
“Oho–? Then perhaps I should go on- I was thinking of you exactly like- ngh, this, my love. Except for one key difference…”
“And that is?”
To answer your question, Nanami gets up reeeeal close in your ear- he glides his hot lips down the side of your face, letting his breath send shivers skittering down your spine. “It’s that not only was I fucking you rough, darling, I was fucking you with the intention of getting you pregnant-”
And then it’s white-
And you’re cumming.
Surging even harder than any of your ones before, your heartbeat thumps in your ears like a war drum. Body at the mercy of your husband, Nanami Kento, as he bucks and bucks and bucks you through the perfect peaks of your high. Until, ultimately…
“F-fuck.” Even with your popped eardrums, you manage to catch the way that Nanami’s voice breaks as he swears his surrender. The drivelling circle at the end of his cockhead suddenly bursting into his own high- “Fuck, exactly like this-”
Hunching over. Pinning you to the bed.
He’s shoving his leaking cock deep into the goopy crevices of your pussy, letting you flood up with each miry line of his cum. “Exactly like this- just like this-” Nanami’s groaning out, webbing up your sweet insides with his orgasm. “This entire week I imagined pinning you down like- this—”
“Oh, please.” You’re blinking back the stars in your vision as one of his hands lets go to push down your hips. Wrestling you into stillness for a second-
“And then my cum- fuck, your pussy’s so hungry for my ngh, cum. She’s sucking it up like- th-thiiiiis—” You’re feeling the exact moment that even more of his ivory syrup seeps out, trickling against the back of your cervix. He’s fucking you through both of your highs almost aggressively, “And then- and then…”
“And then?”
“Oh, honey—” Nanami grins, like he knew something you didn’t. The hand pinning you down slowly scrapes down until it was plastered against your front, pushing down where a lil’ cumflation was threatening to start. A little bulge. In many ways. “-then you’d be pregnant, is what.”
3:01PM, Saturday.
It was only a few more rounds and a hasty lunch later that Nanami had cornered you again (or perhaps you had cornered him, it was hard to say with just how ravenous the two of you actually were). Until, ultimately, you were perched atop the very kitchen counter that the two of you had made yourselves lunch in.
Your body draped across the frigid counter, your legs in the air.
Cunt directly in the line of sight of your husband, who’d just been hankerin’ for something more…sweet (and had rejected every other dessert option until it came to this).
Nanami’s looooong tongue was dipping in and out of your hole, gathering up all those creamy wads of cum that he’d stuffed in there just moments prior. As if he was forgetting his objective of getting you pregnant- and then starting all over again.
“Mmm—mmpf.” Came his strangled moans, being completely crushed between your legs- and his two hands plastered upon either side of them as if trying to get them to tighten ‘round his neck even more. “What did I say about this being my favorite dessert—?”
Slightly leaning back, you can see the full scope of the messes that you and Nanami have made of each other. Slick n’ white cum glued across his face, a sheen that his tastebuds dart out to lick every ounce of.
Dripping wet.
Plunging in and out.
Lavishing his mouth between your trembly, overstimulated legs for more, more, more. It was just so wet that it felt like you were melting underneath him, with all your excess staining down his throat now.
With a shiver, you’re clawing at Nanami’s blond head and attempting to push him down- “And wh-what have I said about not talking with your mouth full?”
Unexpectedly (or perhaps not, you shouldn’t be surprised by now), this doesn’t deter Nanami a single bit. Doesn’t make him falter a single shred.
In fact, he’s actually wracking with primal shivers, the lower half of his body that was obscured by the angle below ruts—“Ohhhh, love when you go all momma mode.” He’s spitting between your pussylips, plastering those swollen lips of yours to his own. And just bubbling out in dewy wads every time he’s pokin’ his tongue inwards and swirling it all around, “Can’t- hah, can’t wait to make you a momma all over again. Can’t wait to fuck a baby into ya, my darling. All round and glowing and- and mine…”
Faster and faster. You’re wondering just how it was possible for Nanami to talk with his mouth all full, and his tongue working overtime to reach for the hidden spots deepest inside you. “And how will you do that when you’re- ngh, greedy for every drop of…”
He looks up with a darkly amused glint, “Drop of what, my love?”
“Drop of- of cum.” You’re finally managing to shrill out, and you think it may have something to do with the fact that Nanami had finally gulped down any and every bit of evidence of the mess he’d made of you. That glistening lacquer of creamy white not dotted his lips, and he was rovering his mouth over your clit and biting it now-
“Drop of cum, hm—?” Nanami pretends to think, so seriously that it reminded you of the way he’d be when he was in the midst of some important business project. “Oh, you’re right. I do need to fill you up with my cum before I can get you, ngh, pregnant.”
You’re squirming, “I genuinely can’t tell if you’re seriously that gone or not, Kento.”
“H-heh…”
And it seems that that was all the answer you’re getting for that particular answer- as for the other demand of yours, Nanami doesn’t quite answer it until you’re cumming ‘round his mouth all over again.
He licks up the tenderest spots of your insides until you feel yourself tipping over the edge - by now, your orgasm was nothing more than a few tingles that ran from the pit of your belly n’ left you all numb.
All quivering.
You look down and realize, with a jolt, that he’d cleaned you off perfectly - and Nanami Kento always was great with aftercare, but this seemed to be something else entirely. Something filthy. And your cunt almost missed the hot splashes of cum that were once overspilling out of you.
Tears slick down your cheeks and - for the nth time that night - you muse that you can’t possibly cum again, for at least a few weeks.
“Oh yes, you can.” He answers—oh, you’d said that out loud. Fuck. “And you will-” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. With a final few slurping smooches, Nanami wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up from his place kneeled on the kitchen floor. And you can already see that his dick is rock-fucking-hard-
“After all, I have to fill you all over again, don’t I?”
7:18PM, Saturday.
You haven’t even had dinner yet.
You haven’t even had dinner yet - but Nanami Kento was making sure that you were stuffed.
Like the cutest of lollipops, looooong and hard. His blushin’ cockhead was licked pink at the very tip, dribbling out in wads of precum that leave your tongue feeling all sticky. He pinpoints the salty taste of it right against the back of your throat, and you whine—
“Sh-shoooo- mmpf.” You manage to gurgle out, and by the way that he’s swabbing every inch of your maw with his length- it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you were claiming he was ‘soooo big’.
But Nanami wanted to tease you a little bit…
“What was hah! that, my love?” He’s crooning, overlarge hand coming down where you were seated beneath his meaty thighs. They quiver every time the lavish muscle of your tongue traced his muscles, like that was all it took to leave your poor husband on the verge of breaking.
Oh, and how cute you looked with your angrily furrowed brows, mouth full of his cock, huffing n’ puffing at the question he’d just asked.
You were underneath his office desk by this point, and Nanami’s leaning his body back in his chair to buck up ever-so-slightly inside you. Hushing at you all the while to relax your throat, “Shhh—breathe through your- ngh, nose, darling, breeeeathe. Breathe n’ try to repeat that sentence f’me?”
You’re popping off of his flared mushroom tip with a wet pwah! “But why—? I said you’re so-”
“I want you to say it with my cock in your mouth, m’kay?” Nanami says in that stern tone of his. And you’re letting his massive palm cradle the back of your throat to get you moving your maw over his length once more, nuzzling the curly hairs of his happy trail.
You’re breathing in his musky masculine scent, “Just so mean.” Pouting, and your dear husband already knows that he’s won.
That when you perk your head up, he’ll be guiding his flushed tip to tap-tap-tap against your puckered lips. Your mouth was just so raw from so many kisses that you wince at the stinging sensation, your spit drivelling down both sides of your face.
“I said- hck!” Cut off right as Nanami plugs your dewy mouth hole with his cock, plunging iiiiin—“That you’re so- mmmpf—”
Intentionally, whenever it showed even the slightest signs that you may be emitting any coherent sentences, Nanami would buck his mean hips. Until the toned lines of his pelvis massaged your jaw, he’s lodging his beading cock all the way against the back of your throat- and then has the audacity to coo. “Awww, why aren’t you speaking, darling? I just looove your voice so much.”
“Mmmpf-” You rake your nails down his milky thighs, leaving sinful marks for days. “Hngh-” Slightly managing to find a bobbing pace that let you breath enough, “I said you’re so-”
“Aaaand there we go ag-fuck, again.” Before you can finish your sentence, he’s then reaching over to pinch your two nostrils together. A mean smile twitching at one corner of his mouth as you struggle and claw your way down his thighs even more.
Head bobbing desperately, he’s finding that that cute jaw of yours unhinges even more when he restricted your air like this. Interesting…
Finally - finally - letting go of your only form of breathing, Nanami lets you pull off of his throbbing red cock with a gasp. Lines of miry precum still connecting your mouth to his tip, chest heaving- “Fuh-fuck, Kento. What I was saying was-”
“And how can you expect to teach our new baby all those phonetics if you can’t even- ngh, string together a sentence yourself, my darling? No offense but—oh, fuck, that feels good.” He whispers, shutting you up with his girth once more.
Nanami’s cock was just so wiiiide that he made your mouth create the cutest lil’ ‘oh’ whenever he rammed himself right down to the base. Right. Down to. The. Base.
Your husband airily asks, “Now…what were you saying a-again?”
12:27AM, Sunday.
By this time, you’d finally reached the bedroom - though, only after Nanami had taken you on every single spot inside your shared home and saved your king-sized bed for best and for last.
You were practically running on fumes by this point, and could barely even hold up the messy mating press that he’d pressed you into. With his beefy arms tangled up with yours, his thighs pressed against the backs of yours, cock probing into you deeeeeeep.
You swear you could almost taste the salty sweetness of his cockhead at your throat, just oozing out in creamy white wads- almost as if cumming was a perpetual state that Nanami was in whenever he was inside you from now onwards.
Again and again and again-
“Please!” You’re wetly gasping out, head thrown back into pillows that were drenched with your tears by now. “Please- I think it’s already t-taken by now, Kento-”
“Taken?” Nanami asks, almost in a daze. “Taken- you mean…”
And then you watch - in real-time - as the blond-haired man’s mouth parts ever-so-slightly. As understanding washes over his face. As he’s once again swatting at the door to your womb, and you can feel it splosh! with the overspilling remnants of his ivory sap.
It trickles out of your overworked hole in a line of white, and Nanami languidly rovers his hand over to push back in those excess wads. He grins, “I almost forgot that we were s-supposed to get you pregnant, my darling.” You gawk as he continues, “To be quite honest, I’ve just been- ngh, addicted to your cunt.”
“A-addicted-”
“Can’t pull out.” He admits, slashing rude spanks into the back of your pussy with every hoarse syllable - you’re sure that you weren’t too far behind, and that your voice would give out soon. “Can’t even imagine it- can’t even dream of it-”
You squeal as a hand at your throat helps Nanami pull you back along to every one of his rugged thrusts, his plap-plap-plapping hips almost stinging against yours now.
“All I want is her- all I need to feel—” Growing even rougher with his nudgin’ at your cervix, you wonder whether you might just pass out and see the pearly gates at this rate. “All I need to see- taste- smell- feel—h-hck! Oh, I can feel my cum swirlin’ around inside you- s’like heaven.”
With a shiver, you’re feeling him splat! out a few more wads of ivory white cum, emptying out to add to the rest of the slicked mess he’d made. You might just be reaching your own high, as well, but with how far you were overstimulated- you couldn’t even be sure at this point.
Gasps scorching as he says, “And it makes me…”
Oh, you knew something was coming up when he started speaking like that.
“And- and it makes you?” You claw onto the dampened sheets- you might just have to change them soon, because something told you that you won’t be leaving this bedroom for a while.
“Makes me want to…do it all over again.”
4:56AM, Sunday.
“Get pregnant-” Nanami grunts, furiously pumping his reddened, raw cock inside you. Absolutely furiously. “Get pregnant- get pregnant- get- get pregnant…”
“I think- fuck, can feel it—” You’re sobbing out, holding onto Nanami for dear life by this point.
You were right in assuming that neither of you would be leaving this very bedroom for a while, because it’s hours later and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep - hours later and Nanami Kento was still trying to mold his thick, vein-covered cock to your walls. Still trying to get you pregnant as soon as possible.
Right now, actually.
Not even in a proper sex position by this point (you’d already tried everything there was to try), this was more of a sloppy prone bone. With your legs sprawled behind you, and Nanami’s hulking body melting down into yours.
His abs gluing to your back, his thighs shivering from behind.
He could barely even hold himself up on overworked limbs, and Nanami was left collapsed on top of you. Pinning you down helplessly. Crushing you to his sculptured body, his sweaty abs mingled with your back as he pushes n’ probes n’ cums—“A-another…” Nanami pants, and something wet hits the line of your spine—tears. Nanami Kento was crying overstimulated tears.
“Gonna get you pregnant with th-this one- I can, haaah, feel it, my love.” His hand scours underneath your tummy, and you can feel him preeeeess into the spot of your womb where you were all filled up to the brim. “I just know it- I, fuck, just know this one left that pretty pussy o’ mine pregnant.”
“Of yours?” You’re babbling away, feeling so full. You’d only have done this for Nanami - for his ravenous urge to get you pregnant with your third child.
“Mhmmm, of mine.” He answers, grinding so that his tender ballsack scrapes your puffy folds. “Of my lovely wife. Of the beautiful m-momma to by three beautiful children- fuck, just saying that made me cum again, my love, look at that…heh.”
“I think m’close to…” You’re babbling pathetically, not even sure if you could by now.
But Nanami was probin’ against that spot so perfectly still, and by now your nerves were so tender that every tiny graze sets your teeth on edge. Vision a kaleidoscope of tears- “Kento, I think m’gonna-”
And before you can finish your sentence, you’re cumming.
Well, you’re not just cumming, to be quite honest.
You’re squirting.
Thick, watery splashes of your high that leave your husband’s sloppy staccato faltering for but a few seconds- as he takes in the constant gush of sap that was leaving you. Gush after gush. Directly following the peak after peak of your orgasm.
And what does Nanami do?
Well, other fuck you ferally through your squirtin’ high, that is? He’s slithering a hand down to roll over your clit whilst you cum, making you whimper at the delicate feeling.
Intentionally, he’s drenching his skin all a gleaming sheen to- fuck, to bring up to his gluttonous maw and lick off—
“So…baby names, my wife?”
.
.
.
1:26PM, Sunday.
You think you might have passed out some time after you’d squirted, and slept straight through until it was past noon. When you’d awoken, you discovered that you’d actually been…cleaned off and tucked safely under the covers.
The bedsheets had been changed, too, with one of your favorite pillows fluffed underneath your head. Blankets raised high. Food on your bedside counter in case you’d woken up hungry. And your husband cuddled up beside you, waking up to your lethargic movements.
Of course, he’d taken you then, too.
It’d been slooooow and sleepy this time- and you think that Nanami had barely even registered the fact that he was awake before his primal mind was immediately filled with the urge to impregnate, impregnate, impregnate.
A slight tear track lined down his handsome cheek and to his (thoroughly bitten) throat once he pressed his plummy cockhead inside- smiling at the whoosh of cum that’d just splashed out of you. “Hungry, my love?”
“Not that much-” You’re answering, “Since we already…” Only- you realize that your husband wasn’t looking at you at all.
He was looking at…
A wet sluuuurp emanates once your entrance swallows his cock past your puffy pussylips, welcoming the lines of Nanami’s veins back inside once more- oh, how the tiniest of crevices inside you had missed him already. “Oh, you had been hungry.” He titters, almost to himself. “Look at you g-go-”
You’re yelping as he bottoms out, “So you were talking to-”
“Oh? What’s that?” Knowingly, Nanami’s cupping his ear to lean down and listen- the most lecherous of noises once he ruts in and out of your treacly cunt. In and out. In and out. In and out. “Uh uh? Uhhh uh—oh, I see-”
With his devilish eyes, he’s turning towards you and you almost flinch at the look in them-
“She says the baby’s hungry, my wife-” One of his hands ends up on your right tit, and Nanami brings your hardened nipple up to his mouth to suck—and, oh, the poor thing was sensitive? It made you thrash?
Worry not, because in a singular fluid motion, Nanami’s reaching over towards the bedside table to grab one of his infamous silken work ties. Using it to tie your wrists up- “At least, my baby’s hungry- for me to fuck a baby into her.”
Again.
5:44PM, Sunday.
You’d had a brief call just before this with Choso and Yuji in Oita (with the video option carefully turned off on your side so that they wouldn’t be able to see the state their parents were now in, all bitten, broken).
And right after- oh, right after, Nanami had all but pounced on you.
Maybe it had been the joy of seeing his sons again, maybe it had been the urgency of realizing that they’d be home by this time tomorrow. Tomorrow morning itself.
But he had you bend like a lawn chair back into your favorite mating press position, your hamstrings screaming at you to slow down- and your husband doing anything but that. “Preg-pregnant-” He’s whispering out brokenly, unable to manage anything above a rasp. “Have to get you pregnant- have to have everyone look at you and just know what I did-”
You feel his reddened tip twitch inside of you and you moan, “Yes- yes yes yes yes, Kento-” His cum spurting out in sloppy streaks. “I want it all inside, I want a baby with you- ngh.”
“Fuck, don’t say that- s’just gonna wanna make me go again.” He pleads with you, overstimulated lower lip wobbling at the feeling of your velvety, heart-shaped insides clenching ‘round him. “Just gonna make me- ngh.”
“Fuck, Kento-”
“P-pregnant…” He babbles onwards, “I get the f-feeling s’gonna be a girl, momma.”
8:45PM, Sunday.
After that, there were likely multiple more rounds that melted into one lustful haze in your mind. But the one round that you remember the most fondly out of that particular Sunday, was the one directly after Nanami had skipped dinner to go straight back into fucking you.
Your last round.
He was a crying, whimpering mess by this point - this large, towering hulk of a man that had been reduced to absolutely nothing on your pussy. You could clench and it would be enough to make your husband shed a few tears, his strawberry-red divot streaming out in pearly beads of cum. Allllll emptied out in the back of your pussy-
“I think-” He’s gasping out towards the end, feeling your slimy walls contract with what might just be another one of your highs once more. “I think this one—hnghhh.”
“Oh my-” You’re speechless-
Because Nanami only lazily probes his thick cock inside you, holding onto the front of your stomach- he presses doooown right where his mushroomy tip ended at, thudding deep into the front of your overspilling womb by now.
Drenched in his cum.
A white, hot mess because of him.
And with a carnal grunt of your name, Nanami’s finishing out once more. With a few vulgar strokes of him swirlin’ aside the webs of sap already inside of you- you’re realizing that-
“Fuck…” Your maw drops agape, “Did you just- hngh, c-cum dry, Kento?”
“Wha—” He’s hazily turning his eyes downwards, only now realizing that the end of his shaft hadn’t burst out in creamy white like it always did these past two days. He had the faint sparks of electricity, all the twitches—but Nanami hadn’t actually cum.
You’d sucked him dry.
He was cumming dry.
The realization hits him hard enough that his breath hitches, “O-oh-” Tears glitter the ends of his molten stares, “You’re right, my love, I did cum dry.” With his palm still plastered against your front, Nanami pulls you towards him - no position at all by now, just a tangled heap of limbs. “And you wanna- fuuuuck, don’t squeeze me like that- you wanna know something else, too?”
You’re cracking your teary lids open at him, “What?”
Only for your husband, Nanami Kento, to lean down and whisper—“I think it really took this time, my wife.”
“Oh…” You’re smiling up at him, your lids heavy. “That’s…good…Kento.”
And it’s the last thing you remember before you’re closing your eyes into a deep, deep slumber.
.
.
.
“Oh, fuck-” You’re shooting upright in your comfortable bed, which only seemed to wish to drag you back down onto its springy mattress with invisible arms. And it was tempting, you have to admit.
Very, very tempting.
If only sunlight hadn’t been flowing with gusto even through your bedroom curtains, and birds and traffic weren’t twittering in competition outside. It was one of those mornings when the world just seemed a little bit brighter- and with growing panic, you’re slamming your hand out to grab your phone off of the bedside table.
Muttering to yourself, “Oh, fuck fuck fuck- fuck.” It hurt to even move your limbs out for this simple action, though that was the least of your worries right now. “It seems so late- don’t tell me I missed the pick up time for-” You tap on your phone screen—
10:45AM, Monday.
(Public holiday)
“Fuck, I did-”
3 missed messages from Hubby <3
“No- wait.”
Hubby <3: I went to go pick up the kids, so don’t worry, my love. I’ll also take care of breakfast so don’t even think about it!
Hubby <3: You just get all the sleep you need. I love you.
Hubby <3: So, so much.
You’re exhaling in relief, falling back against your pillows. Out of curiosity, you’re checking the timestamps on the messages that Nanami had sent, and find that it had actually been a fair amount of time before you’d awoken. So that means…
“Papa, where’s momma?”
Ah, Yuji’s loudly curious voice emanates from downstairs - as well as the sweet, simmering smell of pancakes and syrup. Just hearing your sons so close by makes you excited to step downstairs (and you had to admit that the thought of breakfast made your stomach rumble, too)- and yet, you persist. If just to hear what excuse your husband might come up with.
Fuck, it hits you all at once - right along with the immensely satisfying fatigue in your body. The soreness. The bruises. The bites. You’d just fucked like animals for two days.
“Ah…” Nanami’s deep voice hesitates, “She’s asleep, sunshine.”
“Still?” Choso pipes up this time, and you could almost imagine the way that his dark brows would knit together when he wanted to get to the bottom of a mystery. “That’s odd, is she sick or something?”
“Or something.”
Yuji pouts, “What’s that mean, papa?”
“Momma’s just very ah- tired, you two know how hard she works.” He replies, and your heart soars as you listen to two little voices of agreement. “Let’s let her sleep, okay? And maybe if she isn’t awake by the time we finish these pancakes- then you two can get momma’s plate ready, and I’ll go upstairs to help her down, alright? We can surprise her with a fancy breakfast just for her!”
“Yes, papa—!”
“Sounds good!”
You hear Nanami chuckle, “And make sure you plate quite a bit, kiddos, I have the feeling that momma’s gonna have to eat for two very, very soon.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, papa?”
“Heh, that’s a secret, sunshine…”
A/N. Y’all were asking for thisssssss so ofc daddy has to deliver mwahahaha…
Nanami slips in his cock while you cook dinner for them in nothing but an apron that barely fits your abundant physique.
Gojo is on his knees, being a good boy and helping Nanami by spreading apart your heavy cheeks, cupping them and holding them, squeezing them in his palms like a stress toy. He watches Nanami’s dick plunge in and out of your stretched open pussy, watching juices and precum collect around the outline of your open lips.
“Fuck that’s hot”, Gojo groans, his own cock leaking its share of cream in his pants.
Gojo hates that he can’t actively participate, a punishment for his recent prank. He trails a finger along your round opening, tracing the swollen lips and appreciating Nanami’s fat girth.
Gojo hooks his index fingers inwards from both sides of your pussy and gives it a little outward stretch, getting a better view of Nanami’s veiny length grinding against your inner most walls.
Nanami slows down with his thrusts, dragging his cock out, just short of his tip. Gojo can see the border of his friend’s cock head before he slams back in.
Nanami repeats a few more slow purposeful thrusts, trying to prolong the moment. Suddenly you feel a tongue on your sensitive clit, which instantly drags you and Nanami down, both shuddering while holding onto the kitchen counter.
Gojo, sitting in his own cum, stretches your cheeks apart again to witness Nanami’s seed foam and froth around your opening. He watches your beautiful pussy flutter, hungrily milking every last drop of cum.
“That’s it! we are ordering in”, you sighed, tossing the potato peel and your unpeeled potato aside.
truly, you didn’t. if anything, you were just trying to film a cute little “get ready with me” in satoru’s bathroom because the lighting was good and you liked the way your lip gloss sparkled against the mirror. you were humming, kicking your feet, wearing a little bow in your hair and his giant shirt that fell off one shoulder, and it all felt so harmless.
and then the internet decided to collectively lose its mind.
millions of views in hours. comments like “i would die for her,” and “she’s literally a walking doll,” and “where do i apply to be her boyfriend??” flooded your notifications. people were stitching the video, duetting it, writing poems about your smile, full literary essays about your hair clip, in one case.
and satoru?
oh, he was furious.
not at you. never at you. at the world.
you walked into the living room, holding your phone against your chest like you were carrying a fragile baby. “toruuu…” you mumbled softly, “i think i’m… viral.”
he looked up from the couch, sunglasses perched on his head, hair messy, legs spread in the generous way he always did when he was annoyed and pretending not to be. “viral as in… sick,” he asked, voice tense, “or viral as in the internet suddenly decided my girlfriend belongs to them?”
you blinked wide eyed, confused, then showed him your screen.
his jaw dropped.
and then it clenched.
you could practically hear the grinding.
“who the hell,” he muttered, snatching the phone (gently, always gently with you) from your hands, scrolling through the comments with increasing outrage, “gave all these people permission to thirst over you? who told them they could have eyeballs? who allowed this?”
you giggled lightly, plopping beside him. “they’re just being sweet…”
“sweet?” he snapped, scrolling faster. “baby, one of these accounts is named ‘daddywouldworshipyou.’ that’s not sweet, that’s- that’s blasphemy.”
you leaned into him, resting your cheek on his shoulder, unbothered. “but look, someone said my hair bow looks like it’s enchanted…”
“yeah, enchanted to make people stupid,” he grumbled, pulling you onto his lap protectively. “which is my job, thank you very much.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck. “are you jealous?”
“jealous?” he repeated, incredulous. “jealous is when someone steals the last donut you wanted. this is full blown territorial homicidal panic. baby, they’re looking at you with hungry eyes. my eyes are the only ones allowed to do that.”
but you were smiling, all warm and sparkly and soft, because you loved when he got dramatic like this. he knew it, too. which only made him more unhinged.
he tossed your phone onto the couch like it had personally offended him. “you’re done. that’s it. career over. social media gone. you’re retired. you’re logging off forever.”
you blinked. “but i didn’t have a career.”
“well, now you won’t,” he huffed.
you giggled again, toying with the neckline of his shirt. “toru… it’s just the internet. they don’t know me.”
“exactly,” he muttered, burying his face in your neck. “they don’t know how cute you smell after you shower. they don’t know you snort when you laugh too hard. they don’t know you kick your feet when you’re excited. they don’t know that you only wear bows on days you want extra kisses.”
you softened.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright, voice low and reverent. “they don’t know you’re mine.”
you cupped his cheeks gently. “i’m yours.”
he melted, visibly melted, like someone had poured sunlight directly into his ribs.
“then stop letting strangers adore you,” he whispered, almost pained.
“you adore me,” you reminded him, brushing his hair back with gentle fingers.
“yeah,” he said, voice cracking a little, “but i’m built for it.”
and then, because you couldn’t help teasing him, you tilted your head and asked, “but don’t you want other people to think i’m pretty?”
he stared at you.
“baby,” he said slowly, “i don’t think you understand the situation. i am hanging on by a thread made of cotton candy and delusion. if one more man comments ‘she’s so soft i could cry,’ i’m going to launch myself into the sun.”
you giggled into his chest.
he tightened his arms around you, burying his face in your hair, voice muffled and dramatic. “i’m losing you to the internet. to thirst. to the whims of civilians with too much free time.”
“toru…”
“no, no, don’t try to soothe me. i’m spiraling.”
you kissed his cheek and felt him instantly perk up, like a plant getting water.
“…okay maybe i’m done spiraling,” he admitted quietly.
you played with the strings of his hoodie. “if it makes you feel better… i can take the video down.”
he blinked. “you’d do that?”
“mmhm.”
his expression softened entirely, jealousy dissolving into something warm and aching and helpless.
“no,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “you keep it up. let them look. let them adore you. let them wish.” then, in a lower, smugger tone, “because only i get to touch.”
you flushed.
he smirked, satisfied.
and when your phone buzzed again with another fan comment, he grabbed it without looking, tossed it facedown onto the floor, and pulled you into his lap like he was reclaiming stolen property.
“you’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, all honey and heat,
“let the world be obsessed. i’ll always be worse.”
•●SUGURU GETO●•
suguru was patient in the way storms were patient, quiet, gathering, pretending they didn’t want to tear the sky apart. that was exactly how he looked the first time he saw your notifications blowing up on your phone, hundreds of strangers flooding your comments with heart eyed emojis, calling you “angel” and “princess” and “the prettiest girl on the entire app.”
and you… you were sitting cross legged on his couch, wearing his shirt and twirling a piece of hair like you hadn’t just accidentally become the internet’s softest obsession.
“they’re so sweet,” you said, smiling at your screen like it wasn’t lighting a fuse in his chest. “look, someone edited me into a fairy. that’s so creative.”
suguru hummed. it was a calm hum. a normal hum. a hum that absolutely did not match the fact that he had to put his phone down before he crushed it in his hand.
“sweet,” he echoed, voice steady in the way bridges are steady right before they collapse. “that’s… one word for it.”
you blinked up at him, eyes wide, clueless, precious. “you don’t think so?”
and god, he loved you. loved you enough that the jealousy came dressed as something soft instead of violent. loved you so completely that he swallowed the way his jaw ached from clenching it.
“i think,” he said slowly, sitting beside you, “that people like to imagine things that don’t belong to them.”
you giggled like he’d said something cute instead of something territorial. “suguru, i don’t belong to anyone.”
his hand slid behind you, fingers brushing the back of your neck, touch warm and possessive even when his voice stayed gentle.
“that’s because you don’t understand what you are,” he murmured, the pad of his thumb tracing the delicate shell of your ear. “you shine, and people want whatever shines. they’ll stare at it. reach for it. try to claim it.”
“they’re just harmless followers,” you insisted softly.
“no one is harmless,” he corrected.
not when it came to you.
and not when it came to the way they spoke about you, like they knew you, like they loved you, like they deserved even an inch of what he had.
he didn’t tell you about the way he read every comment when you weren’t looking, dissecting them, memorizing usernames, quiet fury simmering under the surface at the idea that anyone thought they could speak about you like you weren’t someone he cherished with his whole stupid, aching heart.
he didn’t tell you that he muted your videos on his own feed because the sound of other men calling you “baby” made something dark twist in his chest.
he didn’t tell you that he watched every one of your posts from a private account just to make sure no one said anything out of line.
instead he tilted your chin toward him, letting you see the fondness simmering beneath the jealousy, that steady devotion that had always been yours.
“i don’t care that you’re adored,” he said, voice low, warm, dangerously soft, “i care that you don’t realize how easily people ruin what they adore.”
you blinked, confused, but leaned into his touch anyway, like instinct guided you more than logic ever would.
“ruin?” you echoed.
he nodded. “they always want more than they should. and you’d never see it coming.”
your lips parted, ready to form some sweet, silly reassurance, but he didn’t give you the chance. he kissed you instead, slow, deep, claiming in a way that didn’t need to be loud to be absolute.
when he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your lips.
“let them adore you,” he whispered, “but let them know you’re cared for. properly. fully. by someone who actually sees you.”
you smiled, soft and oblivious to the storm he was holding back.
“suguru,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his, “you’re being dramatic.”
“maybe,” he admitted, a small smile blooming despite himself, “but only because they don’t deserve to look at you the way i do.”
and when your phone dinged again with another compliment, another stranger praising a beauty suguru memorized every day, his hand tightened around your waist just slightly.
protective. jealous. adoring. ruined by how much he loved you.
•●KENTO NANAMI●•
nanami never meant to hate your phone. but it became an enemy the moment it began lighting up every three seconds with strangers telling you you were beautiful.
you didn’t even do anything on purpose. you just posted a silly video of you trying to make a matcha latte, accidentally spilling half the powder on your sleeve and laughing at yourself like the world was your friend.
you looked adorable. of course you did.
but nanami also watched, in real time, as the views multiplied and the comments began drowning the screen.
you were curled up on the couch beside him, completely unaware of the war being waged in his chest.
“kento,” you said softly, leaning your head onto his shoulder while scrolling, “people online are so nice. look how many said my smile made their day.”
he hummed, but it didn’t sound happy. it sounded like he’d bitten the inside of his cheek hard enough to think twice about it.
you showed him the screen proudly.
thousands of hearts.
hundreds of thirsty emojis.
way too many offers of marriage.
“isn’t it lovely?” you asked, eyes wide with genuine innocence.
“lovely,” he echoed, voice low and too controlled, “is certainly one way to phrase it.”
you blinked at him, confused, because in your mind people liking your little videos was harmless, cute even, like strangers complimenting your outfit in public.
but nanami saw something completely different. he saw a crowd claiming pieces of you they did not earn. he saw men staring at your smile without having done anything worthy of seeing it. he saw the world accessing parts of you he’d worked years to understand.
“kento?” you asked again, nudging him gently, “something wrong?”
he breathed out through his nose, slow and heavy, because he didn’t want to burden you with the truth, that he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else wanting you, that it made him feel irrational and territorial in ways he wasn’t proud of, that he wished he could peel every hungry pair of eyes off your profile and crush them into dust.
but he knew you. and he knew you would never understand it if he phrased it that violently.
so instead he spoke like he always did when overwhelmed, quiet, careful, painfully honest.
“i don’t like how they look at you,” he murmured, tracing slow circles on your thigh like grounding himself, “they don’t know you. they don’t care about you. they see a pretty face and they think that entitles them to intimacy.”
you tilted your head, lips pouting softly. “but i’m not doing anything wrong.”
“you aren’t,” he assured immediately, thumb brushing your knee, “you’re doing nothing wrong. you’re just… you.”
and that was exactly the problem.
you leaned against him, baffled, small fingers pressed lightly to his forearm. “then why are you upset?”
he paused. you could hear his heart stuttering in his chest.
“because they get to see you,” he said finally, voice cracked open at the edges, “and i wish they didn’t.”
your mouth fell open just a little.
you didn’t know jealousy could sound so soft. so tender. so infinitely tired.
you set your phone face down on the table, shifting closer until you were practically curled into his lap, and nanami tightened his arms around you automatically, the kind of instinct that ran deep, like breathing.
“kento…” you whispered, brushing your nose against his cheek, “you know i only like you like that, right?”
he closed his eyes, exhaling as if something inside him unclenched all at once.
“i know,” he said, though it came out almost as if he didn’t believe he deserved to hear it.
you cupped his face between both hands, cheeks warm, lips soft as they pressed against his jaw. “i like posting silly videos. it makes me happy. but i don’t care what they say. i care what you say.”
nanami didn’t respond at first. he just held you, palms flat against your spine, fingers trembling slightly as though you’d knocked the wind out of him simply by choosing him again.
“i’m not asking you to stop,” he said after a long, quiet moment, “i just… wish the world understood what it was looking at. that you’re not some spectacle to be consumed.”
he swallowed, leaning his forehead to yours. “you’re something to be cherished.”
you blinked. once. twice. eyes big and glassy and soft.
“kento…” you breathed, cheeks flushing.
he kissed you then, not rough, not desperate, but with that slow, grounding devotion he loved with, the kind that made you feel like the world could fall apart around you and he would still be there, holding the pieces together with his bare hands.
when he pulled back, you whispered, “i can make my account private if it makes you feel better.”
he stiffened. “no. don’t change yourself for me.”
“i’m not,” you murmured, running a finger down the line of his tie, “i just don’t need strangers seeing me the way you do. that’s just for you.”
nanami looked at you like you’d handed him the sun.
for a moment, he didn’t say anything. he just kissed your wrist gently, reverently, like it was a promise.
“thank you,” he whispered against your skin, “for choosing me.”
and maybe you didn’t know what it meant to be adored by strangers,
but you knew exactly what it meant to be loved by nanami.
and that was more than enough.
•●CHOSO KAMO●•
the first time you went viral, choso didn’t even know what “viral” meant. he thought you were sick. genuinely. he hovered over you like a worried parent, big hands cupping your cheeks while he asked if you needed medicine or a blanket or maybe both. and you just blinked prettily at him, legs swinging off the kitchen counter while you explained you posted a thirty second video of you unboxing a lip gloss and somehow three million people decided to worship you for it.
choso didn’t understand. he had no idea what was happening. but he understood one thing very clearly.
he hated every single person in the comments.
he didn’t even know who they were, but the moment he saw the words “bro she is so cute i could die,” he muttered a flat “then die” under his breath, which you didn’t hear, but the universe probably did.
you were holding your phone, kicking your feet idly while showing him the comment that said you were “angel coded,” which you thought was the sweetest thing ever, and choso thought was a confession of war.
“look, cho,” you said happily, “they think my hair looks soft. isn’t that nice?”
choso stared at the phone like it had personally killed someone he loved.
“no,” he said very quietly, “i don’t like that.”
you giggled, patting his cheek. “you’re so dramatic.”
dramatic? dramatic? he was being reasonable. you were his girlfriend. his soft, warm, sparkly, lip glossy girlfriend who still got shy when he told her she was pretty. and now an entire internet of strangers thought they got to look at you? talk about you? imagine things? no. absolutely not. unacceptable.
you leaned into him, chin resting on his chest as you refreshed the page again. “cho look, another comment. it says i’m ‘unfairly adorable.’ that’s cute, right?”
he looked down at you. so sweet. so proud. so oblivious.
“…unfairly adorable to who?” he asked, voice tight.
“to, like… everyone?” you said casually.
he inhaled very slowly, as if preventing his soul from exiting his body in pure jealousy.
“baby,” he said carefully, “has anyone ever told you that you don’t… belong to ‘everyone’?”
you tilted your head. “what do you mean?”
he gently took your phone and set it face down on the table like it was a cursed object. then he guided you into his lap, big hands gripping your waist, pulling you tight against his chest like he was anchoring you to reality.
“i mean,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear in a way that made you shiver, “the world doesn’t get you. they don’t get to look at you like that. they don’t get to comment like that. they don’t get to imagine things about you.”
you blinked at him, genuinely confused. “but it’s just a lip gloss video-”
he shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “i don’t like people staring at you.”
“but they can’t actually see me,” you said softly, “well, they can, but like… they don’t know me.”
“they don’t have to know you,” he muttered, tightening his grip on your thighs. “they’re already drooling over you.”
you laughed so unexpectedly he froze.
“cho,” you giggled, booping his nose gently, “you’re jealous of my comment section.”
he did not deny it. he couldn’t deny it. instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you even closer, burying his face in your neck like he needed privacy to process the depth of his jealousy.
“it’s stupid,” he mumbled into your skin, “but i don’t like sharing you.”
“you’re not sharing me,” you whispered, fingers brushing through his hair. “you’re just… uhm… letting people admire me.”
he looked up at you, slow, betrayed, wounded like a kicked puppy.
“i don’t want them to admire you,” he said honestly, “i want to be the only one.”
you cupped his face gently, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “you are the only one.”
he stared at you, eyes softening in a way that made your stomach flutter.
“…really?”
“mhmm,” you hummed, kissing his forehead. “it’s just lip gloss. you’re the one who gets me.”
and that was it. choso’s logic, weak to begin with, crumbled completely. he melted. fully melted. arms around you, nose pressed to your collarbone, breathing you in like oxygen.
“okay,” he whispered, “but i’m still blocking at least three of them.”
“you can’t block people,” you laughed.
“then i’ll hex them.”
“choso.”
“i said what i said.”
he held you tighter, as if you might float away into another trending tab if he didn’t.
and honestly? maybe you would’ve. except he was right there, grounding you, loving you, protecting you in his adorably overreactive way.
and when you posted another video later that night, lip gloss shimmering, voice soft, smile bright, he watched it from behind you, chin on your shoulder, ready to fight the entire internet again if necessary.
because you might’ve been adored online…
…but you were worshipped at home.
•●TAKUMA INO●•
takuma swore he was a normal man. a reasonable man. a man with patience, honor, dignity, and a savings account.
and then his girlfriend, sweet, sparkly, chronically oblivious you, accidentally went viral on tiktok because you posted a “get ready with me” where you put your lip gloss on backwards and said “oopsie daisy” like you hadn’t just instantly summoned three hundred thousand feral fans into existence.
he was at work when it happened.
one minute he’s writing a report, the next he’s staring at his phone, mouth open, eyes blown wide, because the notifications bar reads:
“your girlfriend is trending.”
“she’s my wife now sorry 🫶🏻”
“i’d bark for her.”
“pretty girl pls step on me.”
“tag the guy behind the camera 😭😭😭”
takuma scrolls once, one time, and sees a man in the comments saying:
“if she ever needs a sugar daddy, i’m available.”
and that is the exact moment something inside him snaps like a cursed twig.
he doesn’t even realize he’s standing until nanami asks why he’s pacing circles like a guard dog. he doesn’t even realize he’s growling until choso gently pushes a cup of tea into his hands like he’s soothing a wild animal.
“are you okay…?” choso asks softly.
takuma’s eye twitches.
“no,” he says, voice shaking. “no, i am NOT okay. why is everyone calling her BABY? why are they offering her ALLOWANCE? that one guy said he’d drink her BATH WATER- nanami WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN-”
nanami sighs. deeply. “ino, why don’t you simply… not read the comments.”
“BECAUSE THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT MY WOMAN.”
“she posted it publicly.”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT.”
he goes home early. he’s sweaty. stressed. deranged in the eyes.
you’re sitting on the couch, still in your cute little video outfit, smiling up at him like a sunshine angel unaware the internet has declared holy war over you.
“hi taku!” you chirp, patting the seat next to you. “guess what! my video did really good! everyone is sooo nice!”
nice.
nice.
he sits next to you, hands clasped like he’s preparing to break terrible news.
“baby,” he says softly, “did you read the comments?”
you beam. “yes! someone said i look like a baby deer! i love deer!”
he inhales through his nose.
“sweetheart… they don’t mean that kind of deer.”
you tilt your head. “oh? what kind then?”
he stares at your adorable, clueless face, and decides he will in fact not explain the internet to you.
“doesn’t matter,” he mutters, pulling you into his lap with terrifying urgency. “from now on, your videos have a new rule.”
“what rule?” you ask, happily curling into his chest.
“i supervise everything.”
you blink. “everything?”
“everything,” he repeats, tightening his grip like he’s afraid you’ll float away into the fanbase that worships you like a religion. “angles, lighting, captions, outfits, hashtags, all of it. ESPECIALLY the comments.”
you giggle. “but taku, people just think i’m cute!”
he buries his face in your neck, borderline feral. “i know. that’s the problem.”
your fingers pet his hair, and he melts like butter, but the moment you try to stand up to grab a snack, he drags you straight back into his lap.
“taku,” you whine, laughing, “i just want chips!”
“no,” he says into your collarbone, “you stay here. where it’s SAFE.”
“from what?”
“from the internet.”
you blink.
he nods.
“but taku,” you say sweetly, smiling like sunshine, “don’t you want people to think i’m pretty?”
he whimpers.
actually whimpers and presses a hand dramatically to his chest like you’ve wounded him.
“baby,” he groans, “i KNOW you’re pretty. the whole world knows you’re pretty. and i’m HANGING ON BY A THREAD HERE-”
you kiss his cheek.
he shuts up immediately.
you kiss him again.
his soul leaves his body.
“i don’t care about those people,” you say softly, hands cupping his face, “i only care about you.”
and takuma ino actually glitches.
he freezes. reloads. blue screens.
and when he restarts, he’s shoving his phone in airplane mode and pulling you fully into his arms, tucking you against him like he’s never letting you go again.
“i’m deleting tiktok,” he whispers.
“taku no-”
“taku YES.”
and he does.
he deletes the app.
he deletes every app.
and then he looks at you with that dramatic, unhinged devotion that only he can manage and says, “from now on, the only person allowed to adore you is ME.”
you kiss him again, laughing because he’s ridiculous and sweet and obsessive in the cutest way, and he holds you like you’re the last safe thing in the universe.
and the internet never knows why you suddenly stop posting for a week.
but nanami knows.
geto knows.
satoru knows.
choso definitely knows.
because takuma ino walks into work the next day absolutely glowing with victory, chest puffed out, confidence restored and everyone knows he successfully wrestled his girlfriend back from the clutches of her own fandom.
•●HAJIME KASHIMO●•
hajime never understood the point of social media. to him it was noise. pointless, shallow, distracting. and then you posted one video, one little five second clip of you in soft morning light with your hair tied up in a messy bow and lip gloss smudged on your bottom lip, smiling at the camera like you didn’t even know what you were doing, and suddenly the entire world decided they were in love with you.
he didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until he heard someone on the street say your username. not even your real name.
your handle.
“did you see her new video? bro, i swear she’s the cutest girl alive-”
hajime froze so fast he nearly cracked the pavement under his shoes.
the two men kept walking, laughing, scrolling on their phones.
and then he heard it. your laugh through the speakers. your face glowing on their screens.
you had gone viral. completely viral. millions of views, millions of likes, millions of eyes on you.
and hajime felt something ancient and ugly stir in his chest, something sharp and electric that crawled under his skin like static.
possessiveness. pure, violent possessiveness that made his blood buzz.
he found you in the kitchen later that night wearing tiny shorts and humming while making instant noodles, blissfully unaware of the metaphorical war he’d fought on the sidewalk.
you looked up, smiling sweetly when he entered.
“haji~ you okay? you look kinda scary.”
scary didn’t begin to cover it.
he walked toward you slowly, deliberately, like a storm deciding which coastline to destroy, and you blinked up at him with those big trusting eyes like you had no idea half the internet had fallen in love with your face.
“baby,” he said, voice low and dangerously calm, “your video.”
you brightened instantly. “did you see it? isn’t it silly? i didn’t think anyone would even watch it, i was just bored and thought the filter looked cute-”
he pressed a hand to the counter beside your hip, leaning down until his forehead nearly touched yours, eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite place.
“a lot of people watched it.”
you blinked. “oh! that’s nice.”
you thought it was nice.
meanwhile he had spent the entire walk home imagining cracking the phones of everyone who dared to replay that clip in public.
“sweetheart…” he exhaled slowly, trying, failing, trying again to be reasonable, “they’re looking at you.”
“yeah, that’s the point of posting a video, hajime,” you giggled, patting his chest like he was being dramatic.
but then his hand slid to your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek with surprising gentleness, the kind that always showed up right before he said something intensely earnest.
his voice dropped. “they’re looking at you like they have the right to.”
your breath caught.
he wasn’t angry, he was jealous. the old, ancient, scarred warrior who had killed gods was jealous of a million strangers with wifi.
you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, pressing your lips to his cheek with exaggerated sweetness.
“haji… you know i only care if you look at me, right?”
his jaw clenched. “you shouldn’t let anyone else.”
you giggled because it was cute how deadly serious he was.
but he wasn’t done.
“you’re mine,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours, eyes piercing and almost pleading beneath the possessiveness. “i don’t want the world thinking otherwise.”
“they’re just complimenting me,” you said softly, tracing his collarbone with your finger. “you should be happy people think your girlfriend is pretty.”
“i am happy,” he said, though the tension in his voice said otherwise. “i’m happy they think you’re pretty. i’m not happy they think they can have you.”
you kissed him again, slow, soft, patient.
“you’re the only one who gets me,” you whispered.
and that finally loosened something in his chest, though he still held you like the world might try to take you from him in the next heartbeat.
“good,” he murmured against your mouth, “because i don’t share.”
you smiled. “i know, haji.”
he kissed you hard after that. like he wanted to erase the memory of anyone else’s eyes on you. like he wanted to make sure the only view that mattered to you was him, leaning over you, shaking slightly with relief and jealousy and devotion.
and the next morning?
your account mysteriously went private.
you assumed it was a glitch.
hajime did not clarify.
•●HIROMI HIGURUMA●•
higuruma found out about your internet fame the same way he found out about most things in your life, against his will, at seven in the morning, before his coffee.
he walked into the kitchen, hair messy, tie half done, legal documents tucked under his arm, and you were sitting at the table in an oversized sweatshirt scrolling on your phone with a smile so sweet it made his brain short circuit.
“you’re up early,” he murmured, voice low and tired.
“mmhm,” you said brightly, “my video hit three million likes!”
he froze.
three. million. likes.
he blinked slowly. “what video.”
you turned your phone around and showed him a twenty second clip of you giggling while putting on lip balm and saying something about “staying hydrated like a sexy little cactus.”
he stared at the screen like it was a legal document written in hieroglyphics.
“…this is what people are watching?” he asked, voice dangerously calm.
“yeah!” you beamed. “they think i’m cute!”
he set his briefcase down. carefully. too carefully. that lawyer rage was simmering.
“and the comments?” he asked.
you shrugged. “i don’t know, something about wanting to go to jail for me.”
he inhaled sharply through his nose like he was addressing a jury of war criminals.
“they want to- what?”
you scrolled. “yeah, look, this one says ‘she could hit me with her car and i’d thank her’ isn’t that so sweet?”
he pinched the bridge of his nose. “no. no, sweetheart, it is not sweet. that is deeply concerning.”
you giggled like he’d just told you the cutest joke on earth. “you’re so dramatic.”
oh, he hated when you said that. because he was being dramatic. internally. violently.
the real breaking point came two days later when he walked into court, stoic, composed, fully ready to defend someone’s sorry criminal ass, only to see one of the younger attorneys whisper to another:
“that’s her boyfriend.”
he whipped around so fast he nearly dropped his briefcase. “excuse me?”
the attorney cleared his throat. “uh… your girlfriend? she’s kind of famous, sir.”
higuruma’s eye twitched.
“famous,” he repeated.
“in a good way!” the attorney said quickly. “she’s like… the internet’s sweetheart.”
he stared at him. the way he stared at defendants who lied directly to his face.
and then, the cherry on top, he overheard someone say:
“honestly, how did he pull her?”
he very calmly, very professionally, very maturely, went home early from work.
when he walked in the door, you were recording another video, sitting on the couch with a pink claw clip in your hair, kicking your feet while talking about your favorite snacks.
he stood at the threshold, quietly dying inside.
“angel,” he said slowly, “can we talk?”
you paused the recording, all wide eyed sweetness. “yeah? what’s up?”
he sat down beside you, posture tense, hands clasped like he was delivering a verdict.
“i… support you,” he began. “you know that.”
“of course,” you said, leaning against his shoulder.
“but everyone is in love with you,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “and quite frankly, i’m too old for this level of psychological warfare.”
you blinked. “psychological… warfare?”
he nodded. “i cannot compete with an audience of two million teenagers who believe you hung the moon.”
you giggled. “but i like you.”
he sighed, defeated, sliding a hand over his face. “i know. but every time i open my phone, someone is saying they want to marry you, or die for you, or commit tax fraud on your behalf-”
you gasped. “awwww, that’s kind of cute though-”
“it’s NOT cute,” he snapped, then immediately softened when you pouted. “i’m sorry. it’s just… difficult.”
you crawled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you don’t have to compete with them.”
“…i don’t?”
“nope,” you said, kissing his cheek. “i only want you. everyone else is just… people on a screen.”
he exhaled like you’d just lifted the weight of ten court cases off his back.
then, after a long beat, he muttered under his breath, “…i still don’t like them.”
you smirked. “jealous?”
“i’m a grown man,” he said, tightening his arms around you. “and yes. aggressively.”
you laughed, burying your face against him while he muttered about “parasocial insanity” and “teenagers with no boundaries” like the old man he absolutely was.
but when you posted a new video later, smiling, soft, glowing under the window light, and you waved shyly toward the camera before saying, “my boyfriend says hi, please don’t steal me from him”
higuruma watched it from the kitchen, arms folded, trying so hard not to smile.
the comments exploded.
but his favorite one said:
“WHY AM I JEALOUS OF A TAX ATTORNEY.”
he bookmarked it.
just in case he ever needed the ego boost.
•●RYOMEN SUKUNA●•
sukuna did not understand the internet. not even a little.
he understood killing, he understood war, he understood carving kingdoms out of blood and bone, but he did not understand why you sat on the floor with your pink gloss popping on your lips, camera pointed at your face while you whispered “okay hi guys today we’re doing a haul.”
he didn’t get it. he didn’t get why thousands of mortals were watching you giggle over cute outfits and glittery makeup, and he definitely didn’t get why they were leaving comments like,
“mommy???”
“STEP ON ME PLEASE”
“queen of my heart fr fr”
he stared at your screen like it had personally offended him.
“who,” he growled, leaning over your shoulder, “is sinnerman_92 and why is he asking what your feet look like?”
you blinked up at him, chewing a strawberry pocky. “oh he comments that on literally everybody’s stuff, baby. he’s harmless.”
“harmless,” sukuna repeated, voice so low it rattled the mirror, “you say that as though i cannot remove the flesh from his bones with a flick of my finger.”
you giggled. “which is exactly why you’re not allowed to respond to comments, remember?”
he lied and said “of course.”
and then responded to every single comment anyway.
every. single. one.
the first incident was mild. mild by sukuna standards.
you posted a cute “get ready with me” video, and within a minute, the comment section began exploding, not from fans, but from him.
under a comment that said “she’s literally perfect”, sukuna replied:
“you will be the first to die.”
under another that said “marry me queen”, he wrote:
“her hand will never touch your pathetic mortal body. rot.”
someone simply typed “pretty” and sukuna responded:
“identify yourself so i may tear the admiration from your corpse.”
and people LOVED it.
the entire internet thought it was a joke. your comment section went viral.
fans started replying to him back like:
“bestie calm down 💀💀💀”
“ok but he’s kinda funny???”
“WHO LET THE ANCIENT DEMON ON TIKTOK”
“king of threats we stan”
“this is the funniest parasocial boyfriend ever”
you were horrified.
mostly.
but also… a little endeared.
because while your phone blew up with notifications, sukuna stood behind you with four arms crossed, looking smug as hell.
“they adore you,” you said softly, scrolling.
“they should be terrified,” he corrected, eyes glowing faintly, “and they will be.”
the worst incident happened after you posted a harmless “outfit of the day” video, a tiny skirt, oversized sweater, lip gloss shining, hair bows perfect.
the comments went insane.
the top one read:
“if she told me to bark i honestly would.”
and sukuna, ancient king of curses, destroyer of civilizations, replied:
“bark again and i will nail your tongue to the earth.”
you watched it appear on screen, live. while he stood behind you like he hadn’t just typed a war declaration.
“ryo…” you whispered, horrified and flattered at the same time, “baby you cannot threaten people.”
he leaned down, lips brushing your ear, voice dripping with dark amusement. “they’re threatening me first, little one.”
“how?” you asked.
“by existing.”
you stared at him.
he stared back, absolutely unbothered.
the internet loved him. you were terrified for humanity.
sukuna was trying to figure out how to track someone’s IP.
you caught him once, leaning over your laptop, mumbling, “what in all the hells is a vpn and why must every fool on this earth have one?”
you gently pushed his hand away from the keyboard.
“baby,” you said sweetly, “no murder.”
he glared at you with four eyes.
“just a little murder?”
“no.”
“a minor maiming?”
“no.”
“disappear one of them-”
“no, ryo.”
he sulked for a solid ten minutes.
ancient demon king. feared by generations. pouting because his girlfriend wouldn’t let him kill people in her comment section.
but the truth was this, sukuna didn’t understand social media, but he understood one thing- you were his.
and the idea of thousands of humans staring at you, laughing with you, wanting you, imagining you, commenting things they had no right to think-
it made something dark and ugly curl warm in his chest.
jealousy mixed with possessive devotion. the kind of affection only a monster could feel.
and though he would never admit it out loud, the only time he ever softened at the screen was when he caught a clip of you smiling, really smiling, saying “my boyfriend is so dramatic” as you adjusted your lip gloss.
he watched that part three times.
then replied to a random comment:
“touch her and perish.”
and the internet replied:
“LMFAO HE’S BACK”
“who is going to tell him this is not facebook”
“my man is committed to the bit”
you sighed.
sukuna smirked.
and the next day, one of the comments under your post simply read:
“hi 😭😭😭 i’m scared but i love this couple”
sukuna screenshot it.
you didn’t even know he knew how.
BONUS SCENE !
user4829: omg ur so pretty i’m gonna cry
kingofcurses (verified): die.
user4829: ????? hello????
sukunasfingerz: NOT AGAIN LMFAOOOO
gojubabygirl: why is sukuna in the comments like someone’s angry dad
kingofcurses (verified): i am not her father. i am her god
yuujiisanangel: sir what does that even mean
fushiguroserotonin: this is my roman empire
thirstyontuesday: WHY IS HE VERIFIED WHO VERIFIED THIS DEMON
kingofcurses (verified): your mother.
thirstyontuesday: WHAT DID I DO
randomclown: bro she literally just posted a makeup vid why is the king of curses HERE
kingofcurses (verified): to observe. to judge. to eliminate competition.
cursedfruitrollup: competition for WHAT 😭😭😭
kingofcurses (verified): you will find out when i remove your spine.
cursedfruitrollup: SIR???
gojostoeslut: not sukuna roleplaying in the comments like he’s in a villain monologue
kingofcurses (verified): monologue these nuts.
pandagiggles: HELP ???????????
y/nfanclub: omg why is he mad she’s pretty let her LIVE
kingofcurses (verified): she lives because i allow it.
y/nfanclub: anyway-
verifiedsorcerers: bruh this man is typing like he’s in a shakespeare tragedy
kingofcurses (verified): i don’t know who that is. tell him to fight me.
bubblegumbimbo: sukuna if you threaten one more person we’re calling cps for you
kingofcurses (verified): what is a cps and can i kill it too
itadorihelp: STOP TALKING PLEASE STOP
megumisstress: why does he type like he’s engraving commands into a stone tablet
kingofcurses (verified): because i am eternal. unlike all of you.
randomgirl999: HE’S SO EMBARRASSING SOMEONE TAKE HIS PHONE
kingofcurses (verified): find me. send your location. i insist.
randomgirl999: oh my god
cursedbrat: I THINK HE’S TRYING TO DOXX US ALL 😭😭😭
kingofcurses (verified): come closer then.
gojewhore: listen i know he’s dangerous but he’s kinda funny ngl
kingofcurses (verified): silence.
gojewhore: nvm
pompompurr: why does he sound like a victorian ghost with wifi
kingofcurses (verified): i am going to kill you last.
pompompurr: THANK U?? 😭😭😭😭
nonbinarysorcerer: he’s so accidentally hilarious it feels illegal
kingofcurses (verified): you want something illegal?
nonbinarysorcerer: NO!!!!!!! NO SIR I DO NOT
chatmod: sukuna we are literally begging you to stop replying to people
kingofcurses (verified): no.
y/nnation: this is the funniest comment section she’s ever had lmao
kingofcurses (verified): it is because of me. remember that.
sukunaapologist: king pls—
kingofcurses (verified): bow lower.
sukunaapologist: oh
chillbruh: every time i read one of his comments it feels like i’m being hexed
kingofcurses (verified): you are.
•●TOJI FUSHIGURO●•
toji never cared about the internet. didn’t understand it, didn’t like it, didn’t see the point in it. but he cared about you, which unfortunately meant he cared about whatever you touched, even when it made absolutely no sense to him.
so when you started posting short little videos, nothing crazy, just you doing your makeup, talking about your day, showing outfits, all soft lighting and glossy lips and adorable rambling, he didn’t think anything of it at first. he’d watch from the couch, arms behind his head, pretending not to stare even though he absolutely was.
and then you went viral.
overnight.
one video, one, where you giggled about your lip gloss shade and almost dropped the tube twice and accidentally smudged your blush and said “omg i think i’m allergic to my own face lol”, and suddenly you had millions of views, thousands of comments, people stitching your video calling you cute, edits being made of you, simps in your inbox asking for “more content pls queen.”
and toji saw red.
like actual red. like veins bulging, jaw clenching, murderous aura radiating red.
“who the hell are these people,” he muttered, scrolling through your comments like he was looking at a hit list.
you tried to soothe him, climbing onto his lap and cupping his face with your soft hands, smiling that sweet smile that made him stupid. “they’re just being nice, babe.”
“nice my ass,” he growled, thumb aggressively scrolling. “‘marry me,’ ‘mommy?’ ‘i’d let her ruin my life’- who the hell is this kid with the frog profile picture, i’ll break his spine.”
you laughed, assuming he was joking.
he wasn’t.
and that’s when it happened, the moment something switched in him. something ugly and primal and deeply territorial.
the next day, when you set up your phone to film a silly little “get ready with me,” toji stood behind you in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, muscles flexing, expression empty in that deeply threatening way only he could pull off.
you didn’t notice him.
your followers absolutely did.
the comments exploded within seconds.
“HELLO?? WHO IS THAT??”
“blink three times if you’re in danger queen”
“why is there a horror movie npc in the back”
“i know this mf smells like violence”
“is that your BOYFRIEND?? mam we are concerned AND intrigued”
“he looks like he beats people for fun i’m into it”
toji read every single one of them.
every single one.
and the worst part?
the attention pissed him off… but the jealousy burned even hotter.
because the more viral you became, the more edits made of you, the more simps thirsting in your comments, the more he wanted to remind the entire world that you were his.
that’s why he kept appearing in your videos.
sometimes standing in the back with a knife in hand for absolutely no reason. sometimes cleaning his gun on the counter behind you like it was a normal hobby. sometimes just staring at the camera dead on like he wanted to fight everyone watching.
your followers were terrified and obsessed in equal measure.
“girl what do you MEAN you didn’t notice him standing there??”
“his vibes are homicidal and honestly kind of hot”
“pretty girl x menace energy is my roman empire”
“why is he jealous of US we don’t even know her”
“tell him to stop looking at me like that im scared”
but you, oblivious and adorable, simply kissed his cheek and said, “isn’t he cute?”
toji nearly combusted on the spot.
and when the next wave of comments rolled in, more edits of you, more simps, more people calling you perfect, he slid into frame intentionally, pulling you onto his lap mid video, kissing your neck slow and possessive, looking straight into the camera like he was daring the world to try something.
you squealed, laughing, “toji!! we’re filming!”
he muttered against your skin, “good. let them watch.”
because the truth was simple and ugly and obvious.
he was jealous. aggressively, unapologetically jealous. he hated the internet. he hated the idea of anyone else looking at you the way he did.
so he stood behind you in every video. looming. glowering. fully prepared to commit several felonies over someone’s harmless heart emoji.
and the internet?
the internet adored the chaos.
•●SHIU KONG●•
shiu always knew you were pretty. not normal pretty, not quiet pretty, but the kind of pretty that made strangers walk into street poles or drop their cigarettes mid puff because their hands forgot how to function. he always knew this. he accounted for it. he prepared for it. he built entire personal safety protocols around it.
what he did not prepare for was you going online and going viral.
the first time he found out, he was sitting at his desk, flipping through mission reports with his usual bored, professionally hostile expression, when one of the younger guys walked by mumbling something about “that girl from the vid, damn, she’s unreal.”
shiu didn’t care. shiu never cared about anything that wasn’t money, weapons, or you. and then he heard the second part.
“…yeah, the cute girl in the pink skirt doing that lip sync? the comments are insane-”
and shiu didn’t even think. he snatched the guy’s phone out of his hand so fast the screen cracked and the kid screamed like he’d been shot.
and there you were.
on his screen.
in a soft little outfit he recognized, hair glossy and perfect, lips shiny with that gloss you always ask him to open for you because “the lid is like soooo stuck,” voice sweet and airy as you mouthed along with the audio.
it wasn’t even sexual. not even close.
and shiu still felt his vision go black around the edges.
41k likes. 12.7k bookmarks. nearly 1k comments.
every single one saying things like,
“wife.”
“i’d bark for her.”
“my queen.”
“someone tag her bf and tell him he’s the luckiest bastard alive.”
shiu’s jaw ticked. his temple throbbed. his grip on the phone tightened until the frame bent with a metallic crack. the kid whimpered. shiu didn’t.
he just breathed out very, very slowly.
“she’s taken,” shiu muttered, like a threat to the entire internet. “she’s extremely taken.”
he didn’t blow up right away, that wasn’t his style. instead he stalked into your apartment later that night, heavy boots, heavier scowl, the kind of walk that meant someone was going to have a bad day.
you were on the couch, curled up with a blanket, still in that same cute skirt, giggling softly at your own notifications.
“shiu,” you chirped, lifting the phone. “i think the internet loves me.”
he stared at you for a full three seconds, long enough for you to start fidgeting, long enough for the air to thicken.
“you know what else the internet loves?” he asked flatly.
you blinked. “um… cats?”
“crime,” he said. “specifically murder.”
you frowned. “that’s not very wholesome of them.”
he took the phone from your hand, gently, carefully, like he was disarming a bomb.
“your comment section looks like a breeding ground for future prisoners,” he said. “half these accounts need restraining orders. look at this one, why is he calling you ‘angelcake’? what the fuck is an angelcake?”
you giggled. “he thought i was cute!”
“yeah?” shiu said, eye twitching. “well guess what, sweetheart. he thought wrong.”
you tilted your head, confusion soft and sweet. “shiu, baby, are you… jealous?”
he scoffed. actually scoffed. “no. i’m realistic.”
you crawled into his lap, legs swinging over his thighs, pressing your face into his neck. “but they only know screen me,” you said softly. “you get real me.”
shiu’s hand slid up your back, palm wide and possessive. “damn right i do.”
and then your phone lit up again. another notification. another comment. another username calling you princess.
shiu didn’t say a word.
he simply turned the phone off, dropped it face down on the table, and muttered, “you’re posting only if i approve the footage first. i’m your manager now, your editor, your PR team, your everything. every frame you upload goes through me. i’m not letting the internet think they have a chance.”
you giggled into his chest. “you’re being dramatic.”
he lifted your chin with two fingers, eyes sharp, voice low enough to scrape bone. “i’m being merciful.”
you swallowed.
shiu smirked.
then he kissed you. slow, claiming, irritated and adoring in equal measure. and you melted like you always do, not realizing that he had already blocked eight people, reported twelve, and saved all your videos into a private folder labeled mine.
and from then on, the algorithm was terrified of him.
and very wisely stayed that way.
•●NAOYA ZEN'IN●•
naoya had always been… irritatingly sure of himself. there was no universe, timeline, plane of existence or alternate dimension where naoya zenin believed someone like you could ever belong to anyone but him.
so the day you accidentally went viral, literally by doing nothing but sitting pretty in pink lip gloss while eating a strawberry mochi, naoya genuinely thought the earth was collapsing.
you didn’t even notice. you were too busy trying to figure out how to reply to comments without accidentally liking your own post ten times.
but naoya? no. he noticed. immediately.
the first time he saw your video had hit 1.3 million views, he froze mid bite of his lunch, chopsticks hovering in the air like divine judgment. the entire clan watched him from a distance, terrified, because naoya zenin going quiet was basically a natural disaster warning.
then he hissed through his teeth, “who told her she was allowed to be this popular.”
you, meanwhile, were humming on the couch, trying to figure out what ratio meant.
later that night, he walked into your room with the same energy as someone about to deliver a royal decree.
“you need to delete your account,” he said calmly, which was worse than yelling. “right now.”
you blinked. “huh?”
“you.” he pointed at you as if you were the criminal. “and that video. and all the men in the comments calling you dollface and princess and-” he stuck out his tongue like the words physically disgusted him, “-goddess.”
you looked up at him all soft and confused. “i didn’t do anything.”
“exactly,” he snapped, pacing the room like a scandalized housewife. “you didn’t do anything, and they’re still begging for you. imagine if you tried. imagine if you so much as breathed correctly. i’d have to start killing people.”
you giggled, which made him freeze.
because naoya zenin was a lot of terrible things, arrogant, spoiled, unhinged, allergic to humility, but the second you laughed, he melted like someone poured hot water over sugar.
“don’t laugh,” he muttered, though he stepped closer. “i’m serious.”
“naoya,” you said softly, reaching for his sleeve, “they’re just comments.”
“no.” he leaned down, eyes narrowing. “they’re disrespect.”
“how?”
“because you belong with me,” he said simply, like stating the weather. “and i will not have random strangers thinking they have the right to look at you like that.”
you tilted your head. “like what?”
he scoffed, offended you didn’t already know. “like you’re desirable.”
you blinked. “…i’m not?”
he actually choked.
“are you-” he put a hand on his chest like he’d been stabbed. “you can’t just say things like that. have you seen yourself? you should be grateful i even allow you outside.”
you snorted. “allow?”
“yes, allow,” he repeated stubbornly. “you’re too pretty for the general public. there should be a permit or something.”
you laughed again, and he immediately stalked forward, trapping you between himself and the arm of the couch, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tipped your chin up.
“you think this is funny,” he murmured. “but wait until your next video. i’ll be right behind you in all of them. maybe shirtless.”
you blinked. “why?”
“to remind them,” he said smoothly, “that everything they want is already taken.”
you shook your head, pressing your hand to his chest playfully. “you’re so dramatic.”
“and you’re too pretty to be trusted,” he countered, grabbing your phone like it offended him. “i’m turning off your duets.”
“nao-”
“and your stitches.”
“but-”
“and i’m blocking anyone who looks suspicious.”
“everyone looks suspicious to you.”
he shrugged. “then i’ll block everyone.”
he pressed a kiss to your forehead, surprisingly soft for someone who treated affection like a rare artifact, and added quietly, “you don’t need the internet’s attention. you have mine.”
and because he absolutely could not help himself, he added, “which is the only one worth anything.”
୨୧●• note: testing the waters for naoya lmk your thoughts on if he should stay in the line up!! last post of the day i've been writing literally all day and am about to drop this is an addiction TT
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