𝜗𝜚 your boyfriend, Yuji Itadori, is not-so-secretly a teeny bit of a pervert for you!
more like this
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Pervy!Yuji, who’s the best boyfriend you could ever ask for- seriously! He’s no stranger to carrying you in his arms if your ankles start to ache in a pair of heels, and he volunteers to carry your bags if you ever go shopping together. In fact, he gets upset if you don't let him- and when you finally relent, his face cracks open into a boyish, sunny grin that makes you forget why you ever refused him on the first place.
Pervy!Yuji, who thinks you’re the best girlfriend he could ever ask for, too. He’s hopelessly in love with you, following you around like a lost puppy, salmon-pink hair ruffled beneath your hands when he yanks you into a kiss with his strong hands.
That’s another thing about Yuji- he really loves kissing you. The feeling of your soft mouth on his, tongue gently swiping between his lips, is enough to have his mind go fuzzy. But, unfortunately, as the blood flow to his brain short-circuits, it directs to… somewhere else.
Pervy!Yuji, who gets hard just from the feeling of your body being close to his. He really doesn’t mean to, he swears! It’s not his fault you look so good in everything you wear- and it’s definitely not his fault for interrupting your date to go get off in the bathroom because of it.
“Shit-“ he moans breathlessly, hand clamped over his loud mouth while the other snakes between his legs, “shitshitshit- she’s so pretty- hck-“
You’re aimlessly scrolling on your phone by the time Yuji gets back, sliding casually into the booth across from you. “Hey, babe!” He grins toothily, fingers drumming on the table like they weren't wrapped in sticky strings of his own cum three minutes prior.
“Hi, Yu!” You beam, “what took you so long?”
He just laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, eyes refusing to meet yours as his cheeks warm. “Nothing. Long, uh… long queue…” he mutters, gaze dropping automatically to the sliver of cleavage your top affords him with. And then snapping back up before you catch him staring. “The queue, yeah! Yeah. Yes. Uh, what did you order?”
“Yu, we’ve already eaten.” You say, quirking a brow at his flustered expression. “I was waiting for you to get back.”
“Oh. Well in that case-“ he says, voice growing in volume to distract himself from the way your mouth looks as you apply lipgloss, “-shopping?”
Pervy!Yuji, who is still the best boyfriend ever even through the constant distraction of your body in front of him. He reallyyyyy doesn’t mean to, but when you’re giggling and holding onto his bicep, pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek? He’s so far gone he'd laugh at himself if he wasn't trying to keep a pleased moan from slipping out.
“Do you mind holding this one while I change, too?” You say, pouring up at him with sparkling eyes. “It’s hurting my wrist.” You both know the bag isn’t hurting your wrist at all, it only contains a few tops and a new bra that Yuji drooled over in the fitting room.
“Definitely!” He says excitedly, grabbing the handle from your hand and slinging it to join the conglomerate of other bags dangling from his arms. Although, when he peers down, he realises he can see the bra. Which shouldn't be an issue, it's only a piece of fabric, after all, but unfortunately Yuji's dick doesn't seem to think that way.
Pervy!Yuji, who gulps as he peeks into the bag- neatly folded, pretty pink lace with the centre bow just peeking out from behind the receipt. He’s never been so thankful for the oversized paper squares in front of his crotch as he feels his mouth pool with saliva at just the thought of your tits in it- and then his absent mind drifts to what bra you’re wearing now.
“Yuji!” You say, snapping your fingers in front of his face. “Why are you smiling like that?” Taking in the dazzling, slightly dumb grin plastered across his lips, and the blush on his cheekbones, “I’ve been calling your name for at least twenty seconds-“
You sigh. “I’ll just do it myself. Stand behind me so nobody sees.”
“Sees what, babe- oh.”
You bend over right in front of him in the entrance to the fitting room, hand stretching out to grab the tube of lipgloss rolling across the floor after it escaped your pocket.
Pervy!Yuji, who literally almost cries tears of perverted joy when he realises what you’re doing; if he angles his body jusssstttt right, if he crooks his head to the side correctly then-
“Fuck.” He whimpers under his breath, eyes catching on the sight of the panties hugging your ass. He can feel himself harden in his jeans, heat pooling low in his toned abdomen as his throat constricts around a muffled groan.
“Are you seriously staring at my ass, Yu?” You groan, straightening up eye level. He doesn’t even bother lying- the tent in his jeans is evidence enough, even without the blown pupils and embarrassed blush dusting across his nose.
“I don’t think it’s gonna go away.” He mumbles sheepishly, glancing down at his crotch, “not with you here.” You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, quickly checking the “employee on break!” sign dangling from a nearby rack.
“Fine.”
Pervy!Yuji, who has you gleefully pinned to the wall of a changing room within seconds, the curtain haphazardly yanked to the side to cover up what’s really going on.
“Hah- guess I’m not the only perv here, huh?” He grins lopsidedly, absurdly strong arms holding your thighs around his waist as he rocks into you. “We didn’t even need any prep, babe, that has to be a first, like, scientifically-“
“Shut up, Yu.” You whinge, soaked cunt fluttering around him. You can’t lie to yourself- seeing him so needy really does make you wet, slick shining on your boyfriend’s pelvis.
He’s so big it’s staggering; rosy tip leaking beady drops of pre and his size stretching you out. Pervy!Yuji looks down in lovestruck awe, pink hair flopping down loosely into his eyes.
“Woahhhh,” he remarks, breath hitching between little whines, “you’re so- so-“
“Full?” You offer breathlessly, your hips struggling to keep a steady rhythm of grinding down. It’s a low blow, you’re aware- Yuji never lasts long when you talk to him during sex, something about your voice sending little sparks down his spine.
“Fuck!” He moans into your mouth, “fuck, babe, I’ve told you not to speak like that if you want me to last-!”
“I don’t- mmfh- I don’t want you to last.” Your lips tremble against his, back arching as your fingers interlock behind his neck, “I want you to cum.”
Yuji shudders, body straining with the effort it’s taking to not wrangle you straight to the dubiously greying floor and bury his face between your plush thighs. “Really?”
You brush a lock of pink from his sweaty face, his skin clammy as he overheats below the hoodie he left on to be quicker. Yuji’s eyes are drawn to the gap between your legs again, at the way his fingers swipe through the gloss piling up at his base and cram into your mouth.
It's filthy at best- dribbles of sparkling saliva and glittery trails of your own slick slip from your mouth, tangling together as you gaze up at your boyfriend through heavy eyelashes. "Mmfh!" The noise serves to do nothing but make Yuji impossible harder inside you, his hips redoubling their eager efforts to have you soak him more than you already are.
"You feel so good," he moans, "been thinking about this since lunch- hey, did you know I had to go to the bathroom to jerk off?" Your eyes widen- so that's why he was so flushed!
Gasping in surprise, the noise gets muffled by the two fingers prodding at your forcibly flattened tongue. Yuji beams innocently- if you could only see his face, maybe you wouldn’t suspect he was buried fully into your cunt; his expression is nothing short of sunny, his lips lopsidedly smiling.
"Yeah," he continues shakily, "yeah, I came all over my hand and everything, babe, and all I could think about is how much I wished you were there with me-"
Well, despite everything, he's still your Yuji. He's still sweet, even with his hand shoved into his underwear as he ruts into his fist in the bathroom. It makes your heart do something stupid inside your chest.
“C’mon,” he coaxes, desperation just prevalent in his tone to make you whine, “c’monnnn, need to see you first.”
The whites of your eyes flicker into view as you cum, clamping down around Yuji’s cock hard enough for it to knock the air out of his lungs. "Ohmygod," he breathes, "fuck, fuck I can feel you doing that around me- oh-" His hips stutter and jolt, finally coming to rest as white spills over your fluttering insides.
Pervy!Yuji grinds his hips in slow circles to let you come down from your high, weakly tucking himself away and making sure you can stand on achy legs. You groan as you wriggle your ruined panties back into place, the offending lipgloss from before tucked safely into your pocket.
Yuji just grins with renewed energy, scooping the piles of dropped bags from the floor like he isn’t dripping down your thighs.
“I’m never wearing a skirt around you again.” You grumble, throat sore and your tongue still coated with the taste of your own slick as you tuck your arm around his to leave. “Pervert.”
Yuji beams.
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masterlist
a/n: first time writing for Yuji kinda nervy.. + ty to @kissthesword for this idea even if it took me so long to get around to LMAO
Your boyfriend always mistakes your pussy for a stress reliever. Ugh, Such a dits!
Your boyfriend, Yuji, often zoned out, especially if he was laying in your bed, your head resting on his chest as you guys binge watched your favorite show together, but is second favorite thing to do while zoning out, was playing with your pussy.
Yeah, it sounds a little weird, but that Yuji for ya! He doesn’t really do it on purpose, just absentmindedly really. His hand drifting down to your panties, because lord knows you don’t wear anything besides panties around your dorm room, sometimes nothing even. His hand slips into them, finding your clit and giving it a small pinch, you wince and slap his arm lightly, but it doesn’t “wake him up”, so to speak, instead, his fingers continue toying with it, curling around it as you lay there, fingers digging into his arm for support as you let your boyfriend use you like a stress toy. His fingers slipping there way past your clit and shoving their way into your cunt, that’s not throbbing with the need for him, but still, his eyes are completely focused on the show, even laughing and making stupid comments about it, but you? you couldn’t even focus on which character was dying and which was having a mental breakdown from it, all you could focus on, was you boyfriend fingering your fucking cunt.
His fingers curling against that spongy spot over and over and over again, while you humped against his palm that was right against your clit, you couldn’t even help it rather, no matter how much you tried to keep your hips down, your body craved his thick, calloused fingers. After what felt like an hour of him playing with your pussy, you finally cum all over his fingers, biting down onto his shoulder to quiet yourself, and that’s when he finally looks down at you. “Oh, sorry, baby.” pulling his fingers from your pussy like it was nothing.
anything that has to do with yuji being obsessed with readers ass 🤗 constantly kneading it smacking it caressing it omg I love him
“i like a tall woman, with a nice big ass.”
♯ yuuji itadori x female reader twt link
yuuji itadori had many passions in his life, but none compared to the absolute, driving obsession he had for your ass.
to him, it was the perfect piece of art; plump, soft, and incredibly responsive to his touch.
and at this point, his obsession wasn't just a conscious choice; it had become a reflex. it was as if his hand had its own mind, an instinctual drive to be in contact with your backside at all times. whether you were relaxing at home or making your way through the bustling streets of tokyo, his hand would subconsciously drift. without even looking, his palm would find the curve of your ass, resting there with a possessive weight or giving a mindless, rhythmic squeeze.
he didn’t even realize he was doing it half the time; it was simply where his hand belonged, anchored to the part of you he craved most.
even in the middle of walking around with megumi and nobara, yuuji loved the thrill of the risk, the possibility of getting caught. while megumi absentmindedly squinted at the map and nobara went on about the newest store she'd found, yuuji would naturally close the distance between you without even thinking about it. and with a quick, practiced motion, his hand would dart out, gripping your cheek firmly or giving you a sudden, sharp smack right over anything you were wearing that day.
"yuuji," you huffed, narrowing your eyes as warmth flooded your face. your body gave a tiny start at whatever he'd just done.
your pink-haired boyfriend would only grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes, his fingers lingering for a second too long to knead the flesh before pulling away. he loved how shy you got, how your breath hitched and your heart raced, knowing that while the world saw a polite couple, he was secretly claiming you right under their noses.
"whaaat, gorgeous?" he sang, shifting the shopping bags higher on his arms before flashing you a bright smile. it was gone in an instant as nobara wordlessly lobbed another bag into his already overloaded arms.
you’d glance frantically at your friends, terrified they’d notice the way your bottoms hitched up or the sound of the impact.
and the moment you were finally in private? the restraint completely vanished.
yuuji didn't just greet you with a kiss; he greeted you with a loud, echoing crack as his palm collided with your ass. he loved the sound of it and the way your body jolted forward, quickly pulling you into a tight hug. but his hands never stayed on your waist. they would inevitably slide down the small of your back, cupping your ass and squeezing hard, pulling your hips flush against his.
whenever the kissing deepened into a heated makeout session, yuuji’s hands became restless. he would bury his fingers into your asscheeks, kneading the soft flesh like dough, molding it to his liking. you’d moan into his mouth, your body reacting instinctively as you began to softly grind your heat against the bulge in his sweatpants. feeling your wetness through the fabric, his grip would tighten on your ass.
“you’re already this wet? did you miss me that bad? i know, i know, just be patient. i’ll give it to you, ‘kay? lemme just feel a bit more of you,” yuji would mutter against your lips, laughing softly as his fingers dug in deep, pushing you back against the couch.
this habit only intensified when he was in a state of relaxation. on the afternoons when yuuji was lazily sprawled across the couch, limbs heavy and eyes half lidded, his favorite place for you to be was sitting on his lap with your back facing him. he loved the view from that angle. as you settled against his chest, your skirt would inevitably ride up, bunching around your hips and exposing the skin of your thighs.
from his vantage point, he could see the thin fabric of your lace panties stretched tight, curving perfectly over the swell of your ass. he’d let out a low, shaky breath, his hands immediately sliding under the hem of your skirt to feel the heat of your skin. he would spend minutes just staring at the way your cheeks filled out your underwear, his fingers hooking into the waistband to pull the fabric aside just enough to get a glimpse of the softness beneath.
“yuuji!”
“can you sit on my face? please, baby? pretty please?”
his obsession reached its peak when he had you exactly where he wanted: sitting right on his face.
with your thighs squeezing the sides of his head, yuji’s world narrowed down to the scent of your arousal and the sight of your cunt hovering inches from his lips. even while he was busy licking and sucking you into a frenzy, his hands were never still. he kept them firmly planted on your ass, his palms rubbing circles into your skin or giving your hips a firm squeeze. occasionally, he’d reach up to give your tits a small squeeze, reminding you that every inch of you belonged to him.
one night, the air in the room was thick with the aftermath of their passion. yuuji was exhausted but still wired, lying flat on his stomach with his head resting on your ass as you lay on your front. he used you like a living pillow, his heavy frame pressing you into the mattress.
as he shifted his head, his eyes caught the moonlight filtering through the blinds, illuminating your skin. and there they were. the faint, mottled bruises he’d left behind. some were a pale yellow, others a deep, tender purple, scattered across the plump curves of your cheeks like a map of his desire.
a smug grin spread across his face. he didn't move away; instead, he pressed a lingering, wet kiss right onto the center of a bruise, his tongue swirling over the mark. he reached up, his large hand cupping the bruised flesh and squeezing it firmly, making you let out a small, sharp squeal of both pain and pleasure.
“what was that for?!”
"still there," he murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating through your hips. he gave your ass another hard knead, his fingers digging deep into the muscle.
“yuu, that hurts!”
“sorry, baby! you just look waaay too good like this!"
ꮼ unsurprisingly, itadori is one romantic boyfriend
ᦸ fluffy little boyfriend!itadori hcs ⸝⸝ art : hinamie
boyfriend!itadori is a very affectionate man; he likes to hold hands, hug, share chaste kisses, cuddle & hold one or both of your thighs over his while sitting together—the pure intimacy of the touches feels so right.
boyfriend!itadori lets his girlfriend toy with his muscles whenever she wants, rubbing & over his back muscles and tracing shapes on his abs—his favorite, though, is when you want to mess with his biceps, whether you're nipping on them, kissing them, or napping on them.
boyfriend!itadori gets so happy whenever you wear something of his; it could be his sweats, PJs, a hoodie, a stolen shirt, literally anything, and he just finds it so adorable seeing the fabric swallow you up.
boyfriend!itadori is very eager to be a canvas for you, lying flat on his stomach to let you sketch out whatever your heart desires on his flesh. He's always quick to take photos to immortalize your work & show his friends what it looked like before fading.
boyfriend!itadori adores late nights when you're staying up just to talk each other's ears off—he could be gaming, cleaning, working out, or lying next to you, & no matter what, he's happily sitting there as you yap.
boyfriend!itadori has kept one flower from each bouquet he's given you, pressing each of them & slowly framing them together so you can keep a roadmap of your relationship; each frame holds a special time period for both of you.
boyfriend!itadori loves being your boyfriend; it awakened something in him that he never wants to sleep again.
yuji, was sprawled out on your shared bed. his legs spread wide. along with you in between them, the room filled with loud obscene sounds, his cock hitting the back of your throat. with each buck of his hips.
"justtt like that, baby..." yuji, says between a strangled moan. your eyes are starting to water, taking practically all of his length down your throat, you swore his tip was kissing deep in the back of your throat. that's what it felt like at least, yuji was relentless. hips bucking desperately, chasing his release like oxygen.
you try to move your head. just the slightest, but that resorted into your head getting held down, by his palm. "no, you're going to listen to me, alright?" he pants out, yuji pushes his cock deeper into your mouth, your throat immediately constricts around his shaft, invitingly.
god, just the simple way the warmth of your mouth feels around his girth. drives him insane.
your face his buried, in between his thighs, tongue licking all over his girth, desperately taking his length into your throat, you feel his precum pool all over your tongue. a low muffled "mmph." was the only sound. that could escape your mouth, around his cock.
yuji's hand rises down, to land a slap across your cheek, causing you to moan around his girth. you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head, "fuck... baby, you like that?"
you almost felt shame, because of the tone of his voice. it was degrading, he sounded disgusted in a way, like he was in disbelief. but that's the thing that turned you on most. the most you could manage was a simple nod. you pull back from his cock, your lips covered in his precum, saliva dripping down onto your chin, "you're so pathetic." he brings a hand down to where he slapped your reddened cheek, caressing the soft skin slowly.
"you like being slapped? huh?" it wasn't a question, it was a statement. because yuji, already knew the answer, "i never told you to stop sucking." he pushes your head back down roughly. before you could reply, causing you to, instantly gag onto his length again.
your throat, greedily takes him in. your hands stroking at the base of what can't fit into your mouth, yuji's hand grips your head down, preventing you from pulling back. hips bucking roughly. into the wet warmth.
"i'm close... you'll swallow it all." he wasn't asking, yuji was telling you, you nod immediately. bobbing your head faster. not caring if you choke anymore. his hand roughly guides your head, tugging onto your hair, "fuck... fuck... fuck..." yuji's head tips back against the headboard. you can feel the throb in his cock, precum leaking onto you tongue. you greedily swallow preparing your throat, for his cum.
"agh... fuck, don't stop." yuji cums with a loud groan, holding your head in place, impaling your face deeper into his cock, warm spurts land onto your tongue. coating your tongue semi white, he lifts his head up for a moment, before his eyes land onto you.
"you okay pretty?" he pants out, coming down from his high slowly, you nod. before pulling back. saliva dripping down ont his shaft, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "that... was a lot." he slaps your cheek again at that, "would you rather me spit on you?" yuji questioned slowly, "ugh. try it." a low chuckle escaped his lips, "next time. i don't want you passing out on me now, sweets."
"maybe, next time you should let me pass out on it."
authors note: ugh sorry if this is bad, i literally had to write this in a rush for myself no lie, i was desperate after seeing that animated.
If Yuji was asked to describe his girlfriend? There was only one way ⸻ pink, glittery, vanilla scented, pretty.
But don't be fooled. Most men would want a way out. Yuji does not. In fact, if he could be anywhere in the world, he'd choose to be with you.
He is exactly where he wants to be.
"Yuji?" You're sprawled on his bed, watching as he games. It's some dumb fighting game he'd insisted on buying.
"Hm?" He doesn't glance up from the console.
"Do you know where my lipgloss is?"
He immediately abandons his game, clocking into his boyfriend duties. "Which one?"
"The clear gliterry one." You reply, watching as he searches the wrinkles in his duvet, under his pillows, the floor, his desk.
"Have you checked your bag?" He asks as he peers under the bed.
You glance towards your little pink handbag. "No." You frown. Reaching for the bag, you rummage around a bit. "Found it! Thank you, Yuji. You're the best."
He beams at the praise. "Of course, baby." He tosses himself down beside you, watching as you apply the lipgloss.
As the designated taste-tester, once you've coated your soft, juicy lips in shimmering gloss, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.
You make a small whiney sound in the back of your throat. When he pulls back, your lips are pushed out into a pout.
He licks his lips. Vanilla flavoured. "10/10, baby." He says trying to go in for another taste.
"Stoppp," You giggle, pushing him back. The sound makes him smile.
He is absolutely, undeniably obsessed with you.
"Fine." He relents with a dramatic, mock sigh, rolling over theatrically.
"C'mere." You whine.
The second he rolls to face you, you're on top of him, your thighs on either side of his torso. His hands instinctively find your hips to hold you there. You take his face gently, holding his chin with one hand, as you lean closer, applying the shimmering gloss to his lips. Your breath mingles with his. Yuji stays perfectly still until you're done, then his tongue darts out to lick his glittery lips.
"Yuji!" You huff as he laps up the gloss off his lips. He grins up at you unapologetically.
"the hell are you two doing?" sukuna's voice was quiet, but still gruff with sleep, growing more annoyed by the two small bodies that crawled in between you and him, in his own bed.
"yuji said he was scared." choso mumbled out, clearly unfazed by his older brother's less than happy response.
"so why the hell are you in my bed?"
"he wants y/n." the dark haired boy rubbed his eyes, before tucking his younger brother underneath the warmth of the bedsheets, then himself.
"get out 'fore you wake her." sukuna gritted out.
yuji shook his head softly, tears brimming in the four year olds eyes, "p-please 'kuna?"
"cho get him out now or—"
"ryo?" a soft mumble made the three brothers go quiet.
sukuna looked at choso, before running a hand down his face, "hm?"
"let them stay."
you turned around, allowing yuji to curl up into your chest, a small sniffle escaping the poor boy.
"babe are you serious? they're right in between—" sukuna whisper yelled.
"you can sleep on the couch if y'want ryomen." your voice was light, almost sweet sounding, despite the threat carried through your words.
sukuna let out a huff, dropping his head down onto the pillow in annoyance.
choso gave him a small smile, one of victory, like he was rubbing it in sukunas face, "night 'kuna."
"I hate you brats."
a/n some cute filler while I work on pt 2 of fratboy!kuna n his drunk gf cus ive been feeling too angsty lately lol
going to a lake with yuji and there's no one around so you take off your tank top and shorts and convince him to join you in the water. but he's wearing white briefs and they become so transparent once they get wet.. there's no hiding what he's packing.... and you can't help but stare at it.. even soft it looks so good and you really wanna get your mouth on him
Synopsis: The strongest of kings in all the lands, Gojo Satoru. A newly crowned King. In need of a Queen of course. He’s set his eyes on a particular princess of a faraway land. You… And you’re ovulating. He’s been waiting so long for this night, your wedding night. Needing to be close to his wife. Now he’s got you, he’ll take you how he wants.
I really hope you enjoy! (Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes).
-> on ao3 too!
Moodboard here! (Ignore this if you want)
Wc: 7.8k
Cw: Historically INACCURATE (I tried my best). Royal au. Wedding night. Yearner!Gojo. Pubic hairs (cz we love that shit). Virgin!reader. Princess!reader. Quiet!reader. Proposal. Geto sneak - Duke!Geto. P with Plot. Soft dom!Gojo. Kissing. Make outs. Talking you through it. Dacryphilia. You’ve got a deep dish… again. Body worship. Pussy eating. While you’re standing. Spitting. Biting. Pussy whipped!Gojo. Multiple orgasms. Squirting. Mating press. Bulges. Missionary. Thumb sucking. Size difference. Whiny!Gojo. Fat dick!Gojo. Dumbification. Overstimulation. Gojo is in love with you. Fluffy. Graphic descriptions of sex. Intimacy. Mild historical sexism.
A/n: I was listening to ‘everytime’ by Ethel cain and ‘dark eyed sailor’… so yeah. It’s what inspired me.
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Crowned was the King. Stood above the weight of gold and honour was he. Gojo Satoru. The strongest of all kingdoms. The sovereign.
Alone he was on his throne, dark halls, stygian.
Cloaked in riches, the finest of the lands between. Gojo Satoru. His name carried much weight.
He was a reserved man. His daily routine consisted of council meetings, going over treaties, signing agreements. His hands, constantly stained from ink. Almost purple at the tips of his fingers. Constant agreements he had to sign. Treaties. Letters to other kingdoms.
His breakfasts were always alone. Other than the staff perfectly anchored in parts of the room as though they were statues. They weren’t his friends. He couldn’t actually talk to them. Considering he was the king, they were viewed as lesser than him. Lunch alone. Dinner, alone. The same cycle. Satoru considered his life as boring. So utterly miserable. So lonely. Echoes of nothing but footsteps day in and night. Bickering voices that silenced as his steps were heard. He almost hated being king.
That was all until he met you.
-
It was your wedding day. Kingdoms coming together to celebrate the reign of the strongest clan and his wife.
Chants of
“Long live his sovereignty!” Scattered across the Gojo kingdom. All the days leading up to the wedding, noblemen and noblewomen congratulating his kingship.
Chandeliers hung as though they were constellations on the rounded ceiling. A warm, honeyed radiance bathed every silvery surface. The light, catching on a few faces. The palace had been perfectly decorated for this very moment.
There he was seated on his throne in the main hall. People gathered around the room. Small circles. Gossiping. A few noblewomen cast glances his way.
“Have you heard?”
“Gojo has taken a wife.”
“Ugh I wish it were me.”
“No longer single for us to ogle at.” The ladies giggled at that.
There is no doubt Gojo Satoru is a handsome man. A very handsome one indeed. Flowy snowy white hair, to his milky unwrinkled skin. Flawless. Not a rough edge in sight. His sharp nose. The small pink hue of his plump lips. To his eyes. Indigo outer rings with a hint of teal. A true blue. So vibrant one could get lost in them.
Elbow on the arm of the chair, his hand supporting his drooping face. A few white strands framing his eyes. His cerulean eyes, scanning the room. He was bored. Annoyingly so.
The real reason everyone had gathered here tonight was to congratulate his marriage. You. But you weren’t in the main hall.
A princess of a land so very far away from his. He wondered how he had found you. How anyone found you. You were so quiet. Reserved.
The first day he saw you he knew. You were going to be his wife.
He had to be strategic. Needed to make sure you’re not scared off.
He had received an invitation to a festival. So he went.
-
It was a festival celebrating the good harvest of a northern kingdom, your kingdom. Your palace gates stood open from sunrise, welcoming people of all kinds. Nobleman to villagers alike. Garlands of wheat and crimson leaves hung from every stone archway. Tables stretched across the courtyard beneath a canopy of golden lanterns, embroidered with your kingdom’s emblem. Musicians filled the air with lively melodies as children danced between stalls piled high with apples and freshly baked bread.
At noon, your father, the king, stepped onto the dais, lifting the season first loaf of bread towards the cheering crowd. So many smiles. It always warmed your father’s heart to see his people. He declared,
“This harvest belongs to every hand thy sowed, tended and gathered it.” An eruption of cheers loudening before dying down seconds after. He continues, “Tonight, we celebrate not only the bounty of our fields but the strength of our people.”
A wave of eager applause echoed through the crowd. A few whistles. People searched for any drink nearest to them, lifted it up towards the king and the sky. A huge thanks for another prosperous year.
A buzzing lively scene. Yet, where were you? He knows of the princess of this kingdom. Yet none of the women he’d seen fit a princess’s description.
Gojo had been forced to mingle with the crowd. He didn’t hate it but neither did he like it. The only thing that kept him somewhat engaged was seeing his good friend in the near distance, buried in a large crowd of women. Bubbly women. They wore gowns that emphasised their chests, pushing it upwards it almost looked as though it’ll pop out.
Duke Geto Suguru. A very handsome man with striking features, many women say. Jet black lusciously long hair falling past his waist. Perfectly slanted eyes that did only so well to hide the natural mischievous glint of his plum eyes. Well built, good posture. He wore his hair in his signature style, a bun with many loose strands. Some framing his face. One thing about Geto that Gojo loved was his playfulness that got annoying at times. Geto loves women. It truly was entertaining to see.
To an untrained eye, the women weren’t necessarily flaunting themselves at him, but they could be a little more subtle.
Gojo was standing by a stall with freshly baked bread, just watching his friend talk away with these ladies. And they eagerly engaged whenever they could. Cutting each other off so they’d have Geto’s pretty eyes back on them. Some wore a gown that showed off a bit more than they were allowed. Some hands fixing parts of their dresses, pushing up from underneath the breasts with sweaty hands, while holding an intense stare with Geto. And Geto, being the man that he is, would make them know their efforts weren’t in vain. With a few glances from their faces down to the meat of their chests, holding his eyes there longer than he should. He's a gentleman of course. But there’s only so much he can take. It so happens that his eyes fall to one of the ladies’ peaking breasts.
Reaching the bubbly crowd in heavy stomps of rich fabrics and gold, Gojo hurls an arm onto his friend’s shoulders. There’s that natural mischievous face in play. He’s smirking at Gojo, an eyebrow raised in fake concern that only Gojo knows.
“Suguru, my good friend. It’s been a while since we last spoke, shall we escort ourselves and catch up?”
That wasn’t really a question. Geto knows. He’s just stood there, grinning at his friend’s poor attempt to get him away from these women. Gojo raises his brows slightly, the natural sleepy smile on his lips curving tighter, menacingly if you squint, a hidden message. A warning. Geto I swear on this earth if we don’t leave this instant I’m going to hurt you. Geto surrenders his hands, lifting them just shoulder level, his head falling forward as a small huff of a laugh leaves him.
“Alright alright. Sigh. Excuse me ladies.” Following up with a wink. The two men walk away stumbling into each other with Gojo’s arm still wrapped around Geto’s shoulder, squeezing harder. The echo of Geto’s laughter fades as they get further away. Gojo lifts that same hand up slamming it hard on Geto’s head, there’s an echo. A tiny “ow” coming from Geto.
“Oh you’re excused alright.” One of the women seductively mutters.
It’s nearing the evening. Pink skies strew over the clouds. The festival, still as lively as ever. Gojo’s strolling through your palace floors. Away from his friend that so desperately wanted to be with a certain woman he hadn’t known of. It’s quieter indoors. Echoes of each heavy footfall of his boots scattered across the halls, reverberating off the walls.
Beautiful paintings of seas littered on most walls. Strange. No picture of the King or the Queen. No picture of the princess.
He stood still, eyeing a specific painting. It looked unfinished? Might have been purposely unfinished. Then he hears it. The faintest humming sound from a room so close.
He rushes over to the door, eager to see where that sound came from. It’s partly open, he pauses just beyond it. A narrow sliver of darkness concealing him. Then he sees. He sees you.
Your back faces him, unhearing. You think you’re alone. So you hum to yourself. A tranquil rhythm of one of the melodies you’d heard earlier. His gaze settles on you, noticeably widened eyes, softening. Unmoving.
For a long moment, he simply stares.
You’re painting. A beautiful sea with bright skies connected to land. The perfect balance of nature. There’s an admiration in his eyes that has long since grown beyond anything he knows how to name. Something so unbearably tender softens his expression further as he takes you in. His eyes trace down the top of your head to the back of your neck to your shoulders, your waist, the way in which you sit so sweetly on soft fabric. Legs curled to one side, a hand holding your weight on the other side.
His eyes linger over the smallest things. The dip of your neck. Your posture. How you didn’t care for it to be perfect. No one was here according to you, you didn’t need to pretend. He felt the tightest pull, so fiercely at his chest. An aching warmth.
He takes in a heavy breath and enters, pushing the door so slowly you can’t hear it. Only taking two steps before realising what he’s doing. You could scream. You could be frightened by him. Instead, he takes two steps back before knocking at the entrance door.
You spin around so quickly, an agitated look etched on your face. You usually never get disturbed during these quiet moments.
You suck in a quick breath of air, brows furrowed.
“Your majesty!” You utter, bowing your head with hands flat on the floor.
“In that case,” he starts, getting on one knee before bending his neck forward in a quick bow, lifting it back up like he needs to see you.
“Your majesty.” He repeats back to you. A small smile.
You’re quick to raise your head up in surprise. Mouth ajar, hesitant breaths. You stare at him with such confusion and he chuckles at that.
“No need to be wary of me princess.”
For some odd reason, your heart flutters. You feel it thump, louder than normal, you hoped he couldn’t hear it. It wasn’t a term of endearment. It was merely your title, nothing more. Nothing intimate. You hated the way your brain replayed it.
Princess.
Breathlessly you chuckle, nerves still playing with you.
Your hands are cruddy with various blues. Still staring at him in what seems to be curiosity, he takes a few confident steps closer. Each step makes you anxious. Then he kneels, with a forearm resting on one knee, so you’re eye level. Thick thighs bulging out his black pants.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off of your face, no. He tilts his head a little to the side, studying you. It’s hard to stare back. He’s awfully handsome. It was unfair the effect he had on you.
“The paintings on those walls outside, are they yours?” He asks with an amused raise of his left brow. It was hard to miss the way his eyes quickly glanced down to your lips before rushing back to your eyes.
“Uh..yes your highness. I paint a lot.” You speak with too many nerves. You’re playing with the hem of your dress, tucking your legs, hiding them under your clothes.
What would your lady governess think if she sees you.
“Hm.” He nods.
“Not only are you talented but princess, forgive me, you are so beautiful.” He says with a sigh, like he needed to tell you. You pause. Thoughts scrambling.
He has not once looked away, gaze still fixed on you. It travels down to your lips again, then up to your eyes. You have been called beautiful before, certainly but never quite like this. Never by a man who appeared to expect nothing in return other than to be in your presence.
Your father always spoke highly of you, but compliments from other men, suitors, were a different matter completely. Their praises were calculated, only said beneath your father’s watchful eye, dressed in all the proper courtesies. Flattering words, some a little more than others, in means of securing your hand, well mostly the king’s favour.
But him.
There’s no audience here.
“Uh- uh thank you, your majesty.”
“No need.”
And the two of you stay like that in a comfortable silence. He watches as you paint. Soft strokes. His eyes flickering from the canvas to your fingers. He’s seated beside you, legs crossed. You catch him staring at the side of your face, he doesn’t look away. You smile at him. He smiles back, a few teeth show. Cute, you think.
-
He dreams of you. Every night without fail. Ever since that day. It’s been two years and he still thinks about it. You. Sitting on the silk you’ve laid out on polished floors, painting without a care of the world around you. Gentle strokes of your paint brush dance across the canvas. Blue. Lots of it. Started dark at the bottom of the canvas, slowly brightening. A build up of indigo fading into cornflower then a delicate creamy baby blue. Dashes of white where the blue finally ends. Prominent darker wisps of blue scatter at the bottom the large canvas. A sea? Ah. You were painting the sea. Your fingers stretched over above the blue. Higher on the canvas. Starting something else. Green and white snowy looming figures— mountains. Mountains that resemble the ones Gojo would see on his way to your palace.
You dream of him too. The contortion of his arms. The flex of his jaw. The way he speaks of you. You remember how he’d whisper in your ear, telling you a joke of something that made you snort. You remember how warm his breath felt on your ear. How you felt your face warm at his closeness. His smell wafting in your nose. He smelt so good. You want him. But you can’t tell him that. You’ll look too desperate.
He was visiting your kingdom again, you two becoming close friends was something you wouldn’t have ever expected. He travelled a lot. On each visit he made sure to bring something that reminded you of the sea.
The constant closeness, the constant banter between the two of you had made you fall for him so deeply.
It was one special visit. He had brought a souvenir from a travel to another kingdom. A bracelet. Patterns of waves adorned it, with his initials?
It was late at night, in your family garden. The two of you sat on silk on the ground. Staring up at the darkened blue sky. You were. He was staring at you.
“Princess.” He calls you. You turn to him with a hum.
He gulps, before continuing.
“We have spent much time together…”
Oh no. It sounds like he wants to leave. You panic. Hand reaching out to cover his lips, but he grabs your wrist quickly with a laugh.
“I’m not leaving.. I just— sigh.” He’s struggling to get his words out. You stare at him in fear, hoping that this friendship you’ve built over the years doesn’t end.
“I cannot bear to keep this in me longer princess.”
You tilt your head in genuine concern.
“… I love you. I have loved you, ever since that day.” He isn’t looking at you now, his eyes dance around your wrist instead. Memorising the veins he sees, the tendons. A small flush of pink litter on his cheeks and nose, and ears you note.
The corners of your eyes prickle with tears as you smile so lovingly at him.
“Gojo. Please look at me.” You say with a shaky whisper. He does. A pathetic look on his face. But he’s silent. Tensed.
“I love you.” You say in the quietest voice, afraid you’d sob.
His face lightens, with his thumb still on your wrist, he circles the inner part. Gleaming at you brightly.
“Say you will be my wife. Please. I cannot imagine a life where you are not with me.”
There it is. The question you’ve waited for your entire life.
You sob out a “yes” and jump into his arms, crying softly into his neck.
You remember that night so clearly, it shocks you how quickly time flies. The wedding night.
You’re walking over to your husband’s bedroom, dressed in a white corset with a draping skirt, almost transparent. Only the maids are allowed in this quarter of the palace. Timid steps, hands fisting into balls at your sides. Crescent shaped boring into your palms. Sweat forming at your hairline. You’ve never sworn before. Fuckfuckfuck, your brain scrambles. Heard the staff around you do it though. You’ve heard all kinds of things from them.
However, you were always afraid your lady governess would somehow hear you. But you’re married now. Away from her finally. It shouldn’t scare you this much. Might as well do it now. You mumble your thoughts aloud.
“Fuckfuckfuck.” A small upward tilt of the corners of your mouth. You’re proud of yourself. No one hears you though.
You wait for the guilt to swallow you but you don’t feel anything. Not a single thing. Weird. Your lady governess made it seem so much worse. It helps shake a few nerves, not nearly enough though.
You’re face to face with the towering wooden doors of your bedroom. That small smile quickly diminishes into a thin line, fear taking hold of you. You turn to see a few maids surrounding the area, gesturing for you to enter. Fake smiles smeared on their faces. You turn back, facing the doors. With a heavy sigh you push them open and enter. They shut behind you, leaving you there.
You feel a small cramp in your lower stomach. Ah.
It’s your ovulation week. Well, your ovulation day. Just so happens to be the same day as your wedding day. Almost as if your body knows you’re going to get something out of this. Prepping you for that special ceremony you’ve dreaded your entire life. Alone you’ll be with him. The sun had faded from the sky a few hours before, a bold velvet black coated the kingdom skies, a pure white moon in the far distance. Flecks of its light shone into the room, illuminating the place.
There was a fireplace etched in the rich walls. Tiny cracks of wood sounding like a distant echo. Everything was perfectly arranged. You hated it. Pristine white walls adorned with rich patterns of sculpted flowers denting through. A few paintings of seas— but it looks so specific. Like the sea surrounding your kingdom. You’re not sure if that was on purpose. It felt like it though.
Dark wooden bed frame pillars anchored the bed at each corner, positioned with such deliberateness even the shadows around seemed intentional. To the silken sheets that spilt over each side of the bed. Blue and white in honour of him. His clan. Now yours. Expected to be stained with a faint red. It’s what you’ve been taught, you didn’t know any better. ‘A little bleeding is fine dear. It’s natural.’ ‘It’s supposed to hurt dear.’ You dreaded this. The faint irritation etched on your brow. The avoidance of your eyes. He saw it.
“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you… ever.” His voice sounded from the opposite end of the room. Gentle. Standing afar near the shared bathroom, just next to the fireplace, Gojo was dressed in fine indigo blue robes, the neckline cut unexpectedly deep, a sliver of bare skin showing. You noticed it only because, inexplicably, your eyes were reluctant to look away. It stopped just at where his chest ends. It was the finest silk you’ve ever seen. White ribbons scattered along the seams.
You’re stood just in front of the big wooden doors. Hands pressed flat against it. You’re glancing around the room, avoiding his face. His softened eyes dart down to your semi trembling fingers scraping the doors.
You want to believe him. He’s never given you a reason not to. It was just this moment that scared you. The way you’d grown up. Teachings of this night. All the young women gathered around, seated on luxury carpet floors, some legs folded by the knee, some crossed, whilst your lady governess talks you through what’s expected of you.
‘Just lay there, make sure you’re perfectly still for he may not like it. Remember girls, disobedience to your husbands is not acceptable.’
He’s still a man after all. Except Gojo Satoru truly would never hurt you. He took a few leisure steps toward you. Graceful he is. He always walked with certainty, knowingness. A kind of commanding presence that lingers after each step, as though the air around still held traces of him after he’d walk past a person. That is, you feel him. In every room you know he’s there. He knows you do. Your body knows it before your mind can.
He’s in front of you now. A large hand coming up to your face. Your eyes follow it. His fingers lands on your cheek before the rest of his hand settles there, grazing it, cradling it. You don’t fight it— don’t fight the feel of it. It’s so unexpectedly soft. A few rough marks here and there, years of hard work and experience but the gesture is so soft. His thumb reaches out, stroking at the apples of your cheeks. Warm, he notes. His thumb circles it. And he’s just stood here, admiring you. Glowing blue eyes staring as if he’s never seen anything as precious as you before. They’re heat ridden. Low.
“You are radiant.” He quietly says, no hesitation in his voice.
A small gasp leaves you and your eyes finally meet his. Slightly widened, dancing between each of his eyes. He gives you a warm smile, reaching his eyes making them crinkle at the sides. You find yourself smiling back. An infectious smile he has. A very charming man you’ve grown to like.
He lowers his face to you, pressing his forehead to yours. The tiniest thud. Just skin softly flattened together. He’s looking at you in reverence. Loving eyes boring into your slightly afraid ones. They’re glistening blue. Like sunlight dancing on sea. You’re both exchanging slow deep breaths. Noses brushing. There's heat in the air, you feel it. Your body, growing warmer by the second. Your eyes glance down at his wet lips. He leans into you, head tilted to your right. His massive body looming over yours. Dwarfing you.
He doesn’t kiss you at first. Just a brush of his opened lips on yours. His breath fanning your lips. Slow blinks of your lashes, a slightly quivering lip, he’s waiting for you to stop him. You don’t. You want this. Whatever this feeling he’s giving you. He leans in further, the both of your eyes fluttering shut, sealing you both. Your hands come up, fiddling with the stubby hairs at his nape. The most tender touch you’ve ever felt on your lips. A closed-mouth press of his on yours. When Gojo felt your lips finally, he felt a wave of heat rush to his cock. The muscle hardening instantly.
The softest lips to ever grace this earth, he thought. He lifts you up so quickly and eagerly you register it. You really register it. A brief display of his strength, your brain stutters. He wraps your legs around his stiff waist then puts an arm around it, holding you there. It cages you with how big it is. Whilst your hands are flat on his chest not knowing where else to put them. A gasp leaves your mouth giving him the opportunity to enter his tongue. You try to avoid your tongue from his. This odd feeling. It’s too wet. You don’t like the warm feeling sitting low at your belly. The rapid thumping of your heart. The stuttering of your brain. It’s too new.
He sucks at your lower lip instead, groaning, pink lips plush against yours. Your brows are screwed in confusion and… need? A small noise escapes you. You think nothing of it, but Gojo.. he’s so hard. His brows jolt the moment he hears you. A pained expression on his face you can’t see. You haven’t noticed the straining length of his cock pressing at the lower part of his robes.
He rolls his tongue deep in your mouth and this time, you like it. You feel him squeeze a large hand at the side of your waist encouraging you. Timidly, you give the smallest roll of your tongue, brushing it against his. He whines like he’s thanking you for giving it to him. The sound makes you feel sticky between your thighs. An uncomfortable throb of your pussy following along. Then you feel it. A bead of slick easily leaving your hole. You whimper into his mouth, unsure of what feeling just came over you. You know you’re ovulating, but it’s never been like this. You, leaking for someone.
He retracts his head a little, your tongues still connected. His hazy eyes staring at your wet muscle. Slowly, he rolls it around your tongue, circling his larger one around yours. You’re panting, warm breaths mixing. He closes in again. Tilting his head, nudging his opened lips against yours. Sloshing it together. A perfect fit.
You pull back, a string of spit pulling from your mouth to his opened one. Gojo’s eyes trail down to the spit connecting you both and the pained expression on his face is amplified. Utterly affected by you.
He brings a thumb up to your parted wet lips, smoothes it along your bottom one for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds and pushes at it. The indent of his thumb at the centre of your lower lip. You’re watching him, a little more dopey now. He slides his thumb in, purposely grazing your lower lip so you really feel it.
“Anh!” You’re unfocused. You didn’t expect him to actually go in.
Your teeth catch onto it instinctively, a harmless clamp, unsure of what else he wants to do.
“Mmh no teeth love..” A low whisper. You listen, your mouth opening wider, top teeth lifting, giving him more room. He bites his bottom lip, a small grin forming.
“..There we go beautiful. Now suck.”
Your body goes stiff. Suck? Your eyes gesture to his thumb in your mouth. He lifts his eyes from your lips, they travel up to your eyes. He sees the lightheaded glare from them, a little confused too. He gives an encouraging nod at you before staring back at your opened mouth, pushing the wet thumb on your flat tongue, rubbing it. He watches the way your brow tensed at that. You liked it, he notes.
You hollow your cheeks and suck. A tiny slurping noise followed after. He groans. So loudly. You feel your clit throb, jolting your whole body.
“Uhn!” You tighten against him.
He keeps pushing his thumb at your tongue as you suck. Every push being a silent command of him telling you to keep going. And you do. Your tongue pushing back against his thumb. Curling itself around him. He leans his face into yours, warm breath gliding over your lips, nose, his thumb still in your mouth. He pushes his lips into your lower one. Mimicking you, he sucks at your bottom lip. Biting it, not enough to hurt you, but enough that you feel it. You feel what you’re doing to him. But he has to be gentle. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. So he won’t.
He removes his damp thumb, it glistens in the light, the corners of your mouth ridden in yours and his spit. With his tongue entering first, he closes his full lips on yours again. A long open mouthed kiss. Tongues rolling against each other once more. He’s got you stuck. Bodies still pressed against the large wooden door, legs still fixed around his waist.
He pulls back, slightly out of breath and there’s you. Hard sucks of air entering and leaving you. He giggles at that. The white hairs framing his forehead now dampened.
You’re breathless and softly laughing with him.
He trails a free hand to your lower back, fingers treading upwards ever so slowly. You’re watching him with a hazy glare. A little glossy. Sluggish warm huffs slip past your wet lips. Your faces are so close. You can really see him. Flawless skin seeming so absurdly perfect, making every tiny mole stand out. There’s one under his eye. Faintly brown. It’s almost impossible to see.
With two skilled fingers, he finds the ribbon holding your clothing too tightly. He traps the ribbon between his index and middle before giving it a light tug, the corset loosens immediately. Your stomach expands in relief, lungs now able to take in gulfs of air that no longer feel uncomfortable. With the softest smile, he kisses at the right corner of your mouth before continuing. Removing the ribbon one by one until it falls onto the floors with the tiniest sound. Your head feels light. No man has ever seen you this way.
Gojo’s brain short circuits. Your tits planted directly in front of him. Nipples pebbled from the air and him. Especially because of him. He sucks in the air, lowers his face. His brows screwed in concentration and want. He closes his eyes, opens his mouth and plants it on your left tit. He sucks. Real long and hard. Your hands immediately find the top of his head, fingers clawing his hair as you stutter out a moan.
“Gojo?!” You whimper out.
“Mmmh no.” He shakes his head. Still engrossed with the feeling of your tit in his mouth.
“Call me Satoru or husband. The Gojo name is yours you know.”
He says it, mouth full of tit.
After sucking for what felt like eternity, he comes up for air, strings of spit linking between your left tit and his lips and stares up at your heat ridden face. Widened eyes, parted lips, in both fear and unfathomable lust. He grins at you. A cocky stare, slanted eyes. It’s as if he’s casted a spell on you with the way you have a bodily reaction to that smile, those teeth. Goosebumps litter all around you, he sees it.
He plants wet kisses from the underneath of your right tit leading all the way to your nipple, sucking again. Groaning into it. He carefully bites it. Seeing the squeak that leaves you, he does it again. An airy moan passing through your lips. Head tipped slightly back. Eyes fluttering, not shut, but all over the place. Watching him bite your tit felt so wrong but so good. This is nowhere close to what your lady governess had taught you.
He bites again, sucking right after. Another deep groan of his voice. With his hand still at your back, he circles the raw skin, tickling you. You're jerking your body away, unable to register the sensations he’s giving you. His other hand grasping at your hip. You weren’t fully nude. Not yet. Still draped in a silky transparent skirt that fell to the floor. He hooked a finger at the top of your skirt, dipping in, touching your skin. He wasn’t afraid to touch you. No. He’d been so desperate to do so. Waiting until nightfall just to be this close to his wife had almost killed him.
He pulls down the draping skirt, a harsh tug this time. Your hands still fisted in his hair, you feel your skirt fall completely off. A loud choke of air tumble out of your mouth.
“Satoru!”
“Hm?” He hums, kneeling down with a heavy grunt, pressing a long kiss at your exposed hip.
He hooks each of your legs over his rigid shoulders, your clawing at his scalp at this point. Uneven breaths pumping out of you. Watery eyes. You bite your bottom lip when you feel it. A kiss. Just at the top of your mound. His bottom lip brushing trimmed hairs. He trails opened mouth kisses, purposely, down your mons. Sticking out his tongue, he licks back up to the top of your mound. Trailing kisses down again. He makes his way down to where your clit hides between dripping folds. He spreads your legs further onto his shoulders, your pussy being on full display, getting his face closer to you. Smelling you. He’s salivating.
“Let me taste you? Please.” He says with a twinge of a whine. You’re too embarrassed to speak so you nod.
He brings the tip of his pointed nose to your clit and does a big sniff.
“You smell incredible my love.” He sounds so miserably intoxicated.
He pushes his face to the side, his mouth near your left inner thigh, a slightly darker area. He kisses it before biting it, not hard. You sigh out a moan. He’s so close to your core.
Then, he sucks. Loud wet noises fill the room. He sucks and kisses his way from your inner thigh to the opening of your pussy.
Gathering a wad of saliva, he spits at it. You choke.
“Satoru! That’s— hngh!” You’re cut off before you can even get it all out. He lurches his face forward, nose bumping your clit he begins sucking away at your hole. Wet filthy noises fill your ears, it’s too disgusting. You think it’s disgusting, but you seriously love it. Not secretly, not anymore. You’re too far gone for anything to be secrecy.
He curls his tongue along your slit, parting it. Tracing your sopping hole with his wet muscle, he pushes in. Nose brushing at your clit with every bob of his head. You scream. Head falling back against the doors. You’re pretty sure the maids outside can hear you. There’s no point in caring anymore. You were lied to. Your lady governess, the whispering of maids telling you how painful it was all going to be. Yet here you are screaming in blinding pleasure because of your husband.
He’s moving his hands so they rest on your ass. Gripping them so tightly it hurts. He knows it hurts so good. Pushing you further into him. You’re pushing away at him, his scalp burning at your fingers. Nails digging into him so hard, his eyes roll back at both the feel and your cunt finally in his mouth. He moans, the sound reverbing through your whole body.
He’s slurping, kissing so filthy. Switching to your inner thighs again, biting hard enough there’s an ugly bruise. Now back onto your dripping pussy. It feels too good. How has this been kept away from you your entire life.
You feel something. Unfamiliar. Burning. Scorching. There’s stars dancing around the room, everywhere going white. A coil in your lower belly, so immensely built up, snaps. You're unfurling. Cumming so hard. It blinds you for long seconds. A silent scream. Your neck on full display, bent back. He kisses your pussy through your orgasm.
Your hands uncurl from his ruined hair that still looks perfect on him. With your hands you attempt to push away at his forehead, begging him to give you space. He won’t let that happen.
He’s giggling at your attempt to push him. He’s much stronger than you. It’s cute.
You’re coming down, still drunk on your orgasm, he’s shaking his head so that his nose forcefully grazes your wet clit. Planting tongue kisses all over your inner thighs, tracing them up to your clit before sucking so hard you go limp. He catches you quickly. Hurling your body into his, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your head is lolled, heavy. Eyes dazed. He pulls it against his shoulder with a hand, smoothing gentle circles on your back, shushing you.
“You’re ok. I know it was too much. I’m sorry.” You hear his soft low voice tell you.
He carries you towards the bed, in heavy thuds, bare feet plastered on the ground, laying you on top of it delicately. Treating you as though you were a rare flower. He follows along, his knees either side of you, denting the sheets.
He smoothes your front. Large hands softly circling over your stomach, your shoulders, to your cheeks. He rubs it, leans in and kisses you so tenderly. It shocks you, the duality of it. How is he so rough at times yet so gentle.
He brings his arms up to his waist, hands uncurling the tie of his robes. He pulls it down his taut shoulders, pooling at his waist. He’s so huge. Lean muscle. All built. The definition of raw mass. Looming figure.
Bulging stiff biceps, curling as he takes off his clothes. Each segment of muscle on his torso protruded out, separated by deep narrow lines. His abs looked drawn on. His wide broad chest, dusted with green blueish veins, stretched as he moved. He opens the robes fully, removing it from his waist, throwing it elsewhere in the room.
Your eyes dart down and you see it. That weapon your governess had always talked about. That fleshy sword between his legs. It looked too big. Impossibly big. It wasn’t standing. No. It hung. An angry flush of red splotched at the tip. Bulging veins running down to it. Wet beads of pre dripping from the slit onto the sheets, some running halfway down his shaft. He’s leaked so much. You saw it attempt to throb. Just a jut of its head lifting too quickly before falling back down with another wad of transparent seed spurting out. It couldn’t even bob properly with how heavy it was. Behind it, two very heavy sacks rest. One slightly droopier than the other.
Were you shocked? Well yes. But it makes so much sense that he’s so well endowed. Very fitting on his large body.
He brings his hand up to it, it made his hands look small, grabs it from the base, giving two slow pumps. Your hips buck instinctively. You need that thing inside by all means. Was it your ovulation making it worse? Absolutely. He watches your body squirm under his heated stare, biting his lip as you do it.
“My body burns for you. See this, right here.” He tells you in a strained tone, pointing at his aching cock. A few more droplets of pre slip out.
“It leaks for you.”
A small whine stumbles out of you. Eyes twitching, your tits bounce with every heave of your chest.
He lowers the heavy thing, his hips over yours, caged by your legs and rests it on your mons, the hairs around you kiss his cock. It stretches past to your lower stomach. He was so intimately big. There is no actual way it’ll all go in. He’ll kill you.
“It won’t kill you.” He chuckles. Head thrown back a tad with a few jolts of his body.
“My wife is so funny.”
You’re panicking. Nothing about this is amusing. Your hands are clawing at the sheets beside you, your knuckles brightening.
With his hand still on his cock, he retracts his hips. The tip of his cock lagging slowly down your hairy mound, past your clit, a breathless sigh, to your soused hole. Jetting out drizzles of slick, it falls past the crack of your ass onto the bed.
He ever so slowly pushes forward. Eyes heavy. The knob pops in barely. You tighten.
“It won’t fit— Satoru it’s not.” You’re breathless, crying, pushing away from him. Hands planted on his sculpted chest. You’re smacking him but you’re so much weaker. Little kitten taps on his chest, shoulders.
“It will. It’ll fit.” He repeats. Low, syrupy. A faint whine easing through it, faintly irritated. He sounds so sure. With screwed brows, a concentrated stare. Nose flaring every few seconds. He eyes his cock at your entrance. You’ve soaked him so much. Along with his pre. He’s so wet for you.
He grips his hands on each of your thighs, squeezing it. His thumbs pressing your inner thighs
“We’ll make it fit.” He whispers.
He didn’t prep you with his long fingers. Didn’t stretch you on purpose. No. He wants to feel your pussy stretch around his cock, not his fingers. He wants to feel you take the real thing. He takes out his cock. The tip glistens with your slick and his pre. He draws a wad of saliva. Spitting, it falls onto your pussy, trickling down your folds.
He pulls your body further down on the bed, bringing you impossibly closer. Aligning his painfully throbbing cock at your hole again. He pushes in. Your body goes rigid. You feel it. The hardness, stretching you.
“Breathe for me. Hn! Let me in.” He strains out. He curves his body into you. Leaning his face into your chest, he runs kisses up the valley of your breasts. Mushy, wet. Reaching the curve of your neck, he widens his lips. Deepening the kiss. That spot that gets you delirious. You didn’t even know it felt this way. This good.
He feels the squeezing grip on his cock loosen. He pushes in further.
Halfway in your pussy, it spurts out slick with every push. Spraying onto his thighs. A small bump forming at the pit of your stomach. The outline of his cock protruding.
You hands come around his neck, nails scratching along his shoulders before settling in his hair. You hide your face into his neck and he keeps going. Keeps bulldozing his cock until he brushes past a spot that has you shaking with a broken moan. Your whole body tightening around him.
“Shh. Chu. I’m here.”
He pulls his hips back and gives a leisure thrust. Another stuttered moan.
He pulls his hips back again, this time a harder thrust. You shriek, unable to keep noises in you when he’s grazing that spot. He’s definitely doing it on purpose.
He does it again. And again. So much that your body trembles with every connection of his hips to yours. Every kiss on your neck, your cheeks. Your lips. Tongues intertwining in a messy kiss. Teeth clashing.
Long hard strokes into you. But he still hasn’t fully entered you, no. He will though.
He’s fucking you so hard you see stars. Another three pumps of his cock at your spot and you’re convulsing. Juices spraying everywhere, your back bowed in a beautiful arch. Your nails that were clawing the nape of his neck fall onto the sheets in a soft thud. You claw at the sheets instead. Body too limp to move properly.
“There we go sweetheart. Mmmh fuck you’re divine.”
“Angh! Satoru, please!” Tears spill out of your eyes in many droplets. Falling down your face, falling onto the sheets.
He leans down and captures your bottom lip with his teeth, moaning into you, feeling your shatter around his cock.
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let you come down from your high. He’s bullying his hips, his cock getting deeper and deeper with every thrust. Until, one heavy thrust, scraping deeply at your spot. He brings a thumb down to your clit. Quick circles on the wet muscle. You’re bucking your hips away. Thighs raised, back bowed.
“No please— please. I want you.” Needy voice fanning your ear.
There’s a strange feeling low in your stomach, it feels immensely good. Better than just now. Wetter.
You scream, squirting out your cum. It sprays everywhere, onto his abdomen. His chest. You’re stuck in an arch. Crying full on tears, sobbing. Weak punches at his shoulders.
He’s just grinning at you, so proudly. His wife squirted.
“Ugh fuckfuck— you’re incredible.” He groans out.
He still hasn’t stopped. Your tits ripple with every jolt of your body. He watches it jump. A rising pressure at the base of his cock. He’s close.
Another four hefty thrusts of his cock and he’s gone. His cock gushes. Semen spraying everywhere along your walls, he’s whining into your ear, head too heavy to hold up it falls onto your shoulder. He doesn’t pull out.
He moves your legs, his hands under your thighs, pushing them into you. Now your knees are to your chest, ankles over his shoulders, his bulky weight on you. A mating press.
He places a warm chaste kiss on your shoulder. It’s his way of knowing you’re his. Grounding himself, a reality check. Knowing you’re still here.
You feel your mind break. Unable to do anything but take it. You can’t think, can’t breathe properly. Uneven breaths leaving you with every stuttered moan. You’re whimpering, whining, crying. Flailed arms smacking away at the sheets, his shoulders. Every noise you make, fractured by the wicked movement of his hips. Incoherent babbles roll off your tongue like a frayed thread. Your eyes are half lidded, spinning. Then fully open, then rolling at a particular feel of his tip hit your spot. Long strewn out moans spill out from your sodden drooling lips. He’s so deep. Pistoning hips rutting into you. Eyes shut tight. So many tears leaking out the corners. Beads of sweat roll down his heated face, lingering at his jaw before falling onto you. Opening his eyes, he sees you. Wrecked in pleasure. You bring your forearms over your eyes, trying to ground yourself in some way. He panics. Extending a burly arm, he reaches towards your face, removing each arm in a soft tug. Caressing your cheek with a warm palm before tapping it twice.
“Hey— hey. Stay with me.” He calls out. You can’t really hear him. Not over that blinding feeling. You feel yourself squelch at a certain thrust of his hips. A certain rut of his bulbous tip brushing past your spot, hitting the end? Your cervix. His white trimmed hairs catching on your clit. Tickling it. He’s fully sheathed with every thrust of his cock. You squeeze down on him unknowingly. He doesn’t fight the grunt that escapes him. A loud rugged noise, laced with need. Every moan you hear from him scares you. It scares you how your pussy throbs at every noise, even the tiniest gasp. It scares you how you know he can feel it too. It scares you how close you are to cumming. That burningly delicious build up that’s just over there. Your head is slumped back, digging into the pillows. The sheets drenched in the mix of your pleasure.
“S—Satoru. Hngh!” You claw at his shoulders, tiny red lines littered across the beefy deltoids, his neck. You're properly crying now. Loud wails flowing out your opened mouth. He knows he’s hit your spot again. He doesn’t stop the moving of his lower body.
“Satoru— I don’t know. Hngh! What’s—”
“You’re cumming again. It’s ok, it’s ok. Let it happen.”
White hot, scorching pleasure fills your vision. You can’t see anything. It’s too much. Too wet. Your body goes flaccid. Arms placed on the bed in awkward positions. Head turned to the side. Your eyes rolling. Ugly stuttering breaths that shake your tits. He watches it all in awe.
“Don’t tap out now, we need an heir don’t we?”
You’re finished.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚
A/n: whew.
I’ve been day dreaming abt this prompt for so long I had to share with you all.
"enjin slapping your pussy when he makes you squirt."
We so need this
mdni.
i imagine he would be smug about it all the time, but if it's your first time? after telling him that you think you can't do it?? my man sure does love a challenge.
"jiiin," a broken cry leaves your lips, stomach flexing as your hips buck into his fingers, pumping into you at a steady, merciless pace. your hole is gushing with an obscene amount of your slick and his spit, the squelches enjin has been wrenching loud enough you're afraid the whole floor can hear them. "can't...c-can't!"
"nuh-uh, don't wanna hear none of that," he tuts, leaning over until his face is hovering over yours. "you can, baby, and you're gonna give it to me. can you hear how loud she's being? now get out of your head and let go for jinnie, hm?"
you throw your head back into the pillows with a yelp, his stupidly long finger curling at that spot that made you see stars as an inked thumb kept rolling your clit.
there had been something brewing inside you, something hot pushing right on your lower belly. he was right, though, you were holding back because you couldn't pinpoint the feeling. what if you ended up embarrassing yourself?
"c'mon," enjin's head drops between your trembling thighs, nose nuzzling the juncture between your leg and pelvis, as if trying to sweet talk your pussy- somehow, it was working.
you take a deep breath, eyes closed shut to focus on that simmering heat that just kept growing and growing. freeing your mind. and then it happened.
you scream, jolting up just time to watch the translucent spray that was coming out. enjin's golden eyes light up with something wicked, replacing his thumb for his flat palm pat-pat-patting your cunt in tiny slaps, drawing out more and more squirt.
"thaaaat's it," he laughs, crazed. "goood fucking girl, what did i tell ya?"
your hips are still twitching weakly when it stops, hole fluttering and clenching with aftershocks, positively spent. at least you've learned two things from this experience: you can, in fact, squirt, and to never challenge enjin ever again.
/ @lxnarphase can't stop calling him jinnie and it's all your fault
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓐.𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𓂃 ⭒ helps you through your horrible heats :: omegaverse :: f. omega reader
satoru panics whenever your heat's nearby and he can't find you.
he knows you've got a habit of running off the second your hormones flare. it's why he's tried every trick in the book to follow your cycle. but your heats are cruel and scattered.
most times? he comes home to an empty house and a thick scent in the air.
“shit.” he's scrambling immediately. calling your phone while searching every nook and cranny. are in the spare room? the scullery? hurled under the tree in the backyard like last time?
“sweetheart,” he called, trying to follow your scent. an impossible feat when it's everywhere. thick and dizzying and already turning his brain to mush.
“sweetheart it's just me. just toru. can you come out, please?”
he searches the cupboards, under the beds, maybe the tub? oh—
his head whipped to closet where a small scuttle echoed. his shoulders eased. his sigh curled into a smile. there you are.
slowly, he moved closer. watching the door of the clothes closet rattle as he turned the knob. and there you were— his poor little omega. fisting his jacket and coiled in a haphazard nest of clothes and blankets. looking up at him with tears on your lashes and his name trembled on your mouth.
“there you are, sweet girl.” he lowered into a crouch. his movements controlled and gentle. like his hand that reaches for your quivering knee.
“heat came early?” his brows tilt up at the centre as his thumb brushes on your skin. you whimper and splutter. “ssshh, sshh I know. I know baby. I'm home now.”
he reached for your hand, waiting for you to make the first move. he always did. you snatched his arm and dragged him in. toppling his larger body over you with a loud whine.
“toru, toru I missed you. missed you so bad.”
“I'm here. right here. it's okay.”
one long arm coiled around you while the other held himself up by the forearm. your legs and hands latched around him immediately as you nuzzled into his shoulder. his face fell into your neck. clinging to his warmth and comfort as he crooned sweet nothings to you.
his nose buried into your pulse. a deep groan vibrating through his back and your hands on them as your scent engulfed him. fuck. you were always so addicting.
a protective prick rose up his spine, so he bundled you closer and tighter.
for a moment it was just silence. heavy breaths and shushing. until he felt it. the desperate— pitiful roll of your hips. there it was.
“toru,” you begged, voice trembling in a sob. “I—”
“I know, sweetheart. it's okay,” he hushed to your heated ear as his hand trailed between your thighs. stroking on the hot, sensitive skin there before cupping over your centre.
he groaned, deep and shaky. “already so wet for me. . . my perfect girl.” his palm pressed into your soaked panties, dragging them on your twitching flesh with slow grinds.
you broke. already hiccuping. already sniffling. your hips weakly bucked into his gentle palm. “so hot. 's s'hot toru.”
“my poor girl,” he cooed, free hand stroking on your hair as his thumb wedged into your panties. stroking the cotton over your already throbbing clit. “so needy for me. love me so much, don't you?”
his heart swelled as you struggled a teary nod. with a tender kiss to your scent gland, he peeled the sticky fabric down and brushed over your clit. feather-light. gentle. not enough to overwhelm his quivering omega just yet.
your fluttering lashes and desperate whimpers were all the begging you needed. his lips traced on your face. your forehead, over your brows, both your cheeks— then finally your lips. as his thumb pressed down just enough.
you arched into him with his name hiccuped on your wet lips.
“thaaatt's it. there you go. so good for me.”
slow, tentative circles unravelled you beneath him. hands clambering to his shirt as he worked you to your first, tender orgasm.
“nuh-uh, don't whine like that,” he breathed a chuckle and smooched your lips again. two fingers stroked silk on your dripping slit.
“I know how to handle my pretty omega. gotta work you up a bit first baby,” another kiss. another promise. to care for you like only he could.
well, maybe... just a tiny crush. you're the sweetest girl he knew around, considerate, and the leader-type. not fit for someone like him. to be more specific, sukuna thinks you're weirded by him because of his looks, he has tons of piercings; in his ears, eyebrows, and chin, he even has tattoos around his arms.
but when he got the guts to finally ask you on a date? he didn't expect you to say yes.
he took off everything. his piercings and covered himself up to ease his tattoos.
but here you are, wore the same dark colors he would usually wear. styled yourself with accessories although you don't have piercings or tattoos yourself. it's far different from the usual pastel or light clothes you wore. while on the other hand, sukuna eased himself to match you.
it was awkward.
“you took off your piercings?” you questioned. looking at him closely. it's the first time you've seen him without it.
“i thought you didn't like it” sukuna looked away. feeling embarrassed.
“no! I—... I like it” you muttered and looked down on your feet. finally feeling the heat building on your cheeks.
it was silent. it was deafening. maybe you should've thought how to handle it beforehand. sukuna breaks the silence when he remembered the bouquet he bought earlier.
“i like your dress” he finally met your gaze, sukuna handed you the bouquet.
“especially the color.. it's my favorite” he continued and cleared his throat.
“i like your outfit too, ryo” you chuckled as he guided you to his car.
the date night went surprisingly well. sukuna kept asking if something happened for you to wear different style of clothes.
“i wanted to match you” you confessed.
“and so am i” he turned to you.
there was a pause, but you broke a laugh when you realized the situation.
“so... do you want to hang out again?” sukuna asked nervously.
One of the boys one day kind of shrug reader away while busy and reader is all soft and mushy and sensitive, so in the same week reader appears with a stray cat they decided to adopt.
He doesn't think much of it since it makes reader happy and keeps them distracted while he works, but when he does finish work and goes find their S/O, reader is curled up with the damned cat and now every time he tries to get reader's attention, the cat steals it first. Soon it turns into a personal war (bonus points if said cat is one of the others being a cat!shifter)
Inspired by the fact I have rejection sensitivity when sad so a few weeks ago I was completely ignoring my friends over stray cats and dogs bc they were too rude to me one time
oh i sorry. <3 have a silly little cat post
This is silly, can be read as platonic or romantic x reader
You’d been soft all week, trying to lean against Ghost while he worked on mission reports, trying to sit in Soap’s lap while he tinkered with his kit. Both of them brushed you off with distracted grunts and absent kisses, promising, “Later, love.”
But later never seemed to come. They were sweet, sure, still managed to at least eat dinners with you but... you were just in a mood. You needed support, but they prioritized other things...
So when you found the little tabby loitering outside the flat, eyes bright, tail curling... you scooped it right up.
“Huh, well aren't you just a sweetie,” you whispered, kissing its fur.
The cat purred like a motor and headbutted your chin.
When you carried it inside, Soap nearly dropped the wrench in his hand. Ghost’s pen stopped mid-scratch on the paper.
“…For fuck’s sake,” Simon muttered.
Johnny’s eyes narrowed. “That’s no bloody stray.”
But you were too busy cooing at the cat to notice. You set it gently on the couch, and it immediately curled in your lap like it had been waiting all its life for the spot.
From then on, it was war.
Every time Ghost leaned close to kiss your temple, the cat would put himself between you. Every time Soap slid onto the couch, the cat was already sprawled across your thighs, purring so loud it drowned him out. Once, when Ghost reached to take your hand, the cat slapped him away with a tiny paw.
And you, sweetly oblivious, only laughed. “He’s so protective, isn’t he? Must’ve been lonely out there.”
Ghost glared daggers over your shoulder at the cat. Soap hissed under his breath, “You’re dead when you shift back, mate.”
The cat only blinked slow, lazy, and satisfied.
It went on like this for days. You were happier, content to be cuddling your “stray.” And though Ghost and Soap fumed, neither of them had the heart to snatch the warmth from you. Of course they didn't. It was their fault in the first place, and they knew it.
Until the evening you came home with another.
This one wasn’t small. A massive, broad-shouldered, thick furred maine coon. Big green eyes and lovely black and brown coat.
You knelt, smiling, stroking between its ears. “Can you believe it? Another one followed me home!”
Soap’s jaw fell open. Ghost made a grumbling noise of protest.
The big cat sat, regal and heavy, curled its tail around your legs as if it had always belonged there. It just watched them, calm and patient.
And you were utterly oblivious to the smugness in it's eyes that only Ghost and Soap recognized.
Ghost muttered under his breath, “Christ above.”
Johnny rubbed his face. “This fuckin’ household…”
You didn’t notice their stares or the way the two cats sized each other up in the room. You just smiled, over the moon that your little family was growing.
And the boys said nothing. Because if it kept you happy, if it kept you soft and warm, then maybe keeping Gaz and their Captain stuck as cats in your presence wouldn't be such a bad thing.
Because when Ghost or Soap finally convinced you to let the cats stay locked out of the bedroom. Or you make them do tricks for treats. Or you finally start getting the attention you deserve from your flatmates...
well, you've got man and feline fighting for the right to the couch cushion next to you.
adjacent to this mutt shifter!Simon post (x reader but can be platonic)
You can tell the second he clocks it that he doesn’t like it.
The treadmill sits there, quiet and inert, no motor, no noise, just a slanted track and a frame, but Simon’s ears pin anyway. His body goes alert and still, like the thing might move without warning.
Soap squints at it. “It’s just… a ramp.”
The mutt does not agree.
You crouch, slow, letting him sniff the harness, the sides, the strange geometry of it. His nose presses in, tail low but moving, all curious despite himself. The idea of it isn’t what scares him... well maybe a bit, but really it’s the harness.
That’s the part where he tenses, locking up, muscle going rigid under your hands as you lift the safety straps. Something about being clipped in. Something about restraint and past that wasn't his choice.
You pause.
“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “We don’t have to.”
His head turns just enough to look at you.
Johnny stays quiet, kneels nearby, present without pressure.
After a moment, Simon shifts forward on his own.
Just a step.
You move with him, narrating every motion as you secure the harness, keeping your touch predictable. When the last clip clicks into place, he flinches... and then nothing happens.
The treadmill doesn’t start. There’s no hum, no jolt. The world doesn’t grab him. No one makes him do anything.
You step back. “Whenever you want.”
He moves one paw on the belt. It rolls just a little.
His head snaps up, startled, and then his weight shifts, another step. Then another. The belt moves under him, responding instead of commanding.
Johnny's breath leaves him in a quiet laugh. “There ya are.”
Simon starts walking.
Tentative at first, testing the reality of the situation. He glances up at you once, like he expects someone to stop him. When you just nod encouragingly, So he lengthens his stride. The belt rolls faster. He does, too.
Walk becomes trot.
Trot becomes run.
And then he goes.
No terrain biting at his feet. No handler pacing him. No leash tension, no corners, no obstacles. Just forward motion, controlled entirely by his own body.
The mutt’s ears go back, streamlined, faster. His gait smooths into something powerful. He runs harder.
Faster.
Johnny watches, stunned, as Simon pushes until his legs tremble, until his tongue lolls, until joy, pure, unfiltered joy, radiates off him.
When he finally slows, then stops, he’s panting hard, chest heaving, eyes bright and alive.
You move in immediately, unclipping the harness with care. The moment he’s free, he shakes violently, cathartic, like he’s throwing something old off his fur.
Then he leans into you, full weight, exhausted and happy.
Johnny swallows. “Bloody hell,” he murmurs. “He may as well be smilin'.”
And Simon may as well be, because, for once, he got to choose how fast he ran.
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