꧁ mdni. smut. porn with what plot. unprotected piv sex. mentions of oviposition. ꧂
being split open on a merman's cock was rather irresponsible for a woman soon-to-be sold off in an arranged marriage.
but suguru could be awfully convincing.
"feel me in here, pretty girl?" he purred, pressing his palm down below your belly button, his slightly webbed fingers splayed out as his cock throbbed inside of you.
"uh, uh-huh," you nodded, whining as your back arched back, nails scrapping down his broad back as his sharp teeth snapped at your throat.
leaving bites you'd barely be able to hide beneath your clothes after it was all over, his free claws sinking into your forearm to pin you against the rock as he rutted in deeper. filling up every crevice, completely stuffing you full with no room left to even squirm.
"you thinking of me, princess?" he huffed, his usually honeyed voice coming out raw, ripped from the back of his throat as you gasped his name. "or that prince of yours?"
someone was jealous.
it wasn't your fault you'd been born into this position. or that your parents were determined to ship you off to another kingdom as a political pawn.
the most you could do to defy them was sneak out on silent nights like this, evading the guards stationed outside your room by climbing down the trellis and slipping past the landscaped garden to the beach below.
suguru had made a habit of waiting in the hidden cove tucked away around a curve in the rocky shore. the soft purple of his scales gleaming in the moonlight as he laid back on the flat rock he was so fond of fucking you on.
tonight was no different.
"you," you whined, nodding your head like a fool.
"what would he do if he knew his pretty princess wasn't so pure?" he dryly teased, his heavy tail pinning your legs down his swollen tip rubbed right up into the spongy spot of your cervix. daring to push past it, the intensity of the pressure threatening to push you over the edge already. "if he knew you'd given your virtue to someone like me."
"he'd call it off," you half-whispered, a treacherous flare of excitement stirring in your stomach as you imagined all the different ways he might try to make it happen.
you knew it was wrong. that you shouldn't want it.
but you liked that glimmer in his sharp eyes, the way his mouth curled up in a cruel smirk, sharp teeth visible for a second as he pulled himself out to plunge back in, his ribbed cocks rubbing you just right as he stretched you out and seared his thick shape into you.
it burned more at first, but you had gotten used to it. addicted to it. the way you could feel his cocks not quite rubbing against each other, only separated by the thin wall of your anatomy.
"will he now?" he asked, his gills straining from how long he'd been out of the water, but he didn't stop fucking you.
"suguru," you softly spoke his name, running your fingers through his dark hair, sifting through the damp, silky strands. "w-what are you-"
your question died in your throat as you felt the base of his top cock begin to swell, delicious added pressure pressing against your entrance.
"think he'd still put a ring on your finger if i put my eggs in you first?" he asked, cocking his head to the side as another broken gasp was torn from your throat.
the idea was supposed to be scary.
but he could feel the way you clenched at it, thighs trembling without so much as an ounce of trepidation, holding onto him to brace yourself for what was coming instead of squirming away from it.
craving him to complete you.
even if you weren't sure how if he could.
"i-i thought we weren't compatible," you stuttered, clinging to his shoulders as you felt something slowly starting to travel up, up, up his cock, whimpering as your walls barely managed to mold around him, struggling to take what he was trying to give.
the cock in your ass keeping you still, his grip on you firm as he clicked his tongue.
"oh, princess," he grinned. "that's nothing a little magic won't fix."
"what kind of magic?" you whispered, far more enthralled than you should be at the prospect of being his. at opening another door with him you really should've left stuff.
he didn't push the egg in yet.
daring you to beg him to either bury it in your womb or bail.
"oh baby," he coaxed, trailing a hand down to your swollen clit, pressing softly over it. "wanna be like me?"
"i wanna be yours," you whined, squeezing down as you nodded weakly.
okay, yeah, maybe you should've realized a vague job posting promising cash in exchange for essentially nothing was definitely sketchy. but, it wasn't like you thought you'd be doing...sex work?
was that what this was?
getting rutted ruthlessly into your bed by a hot snake hybrid you only met ten minutes ago while he murmured something about eggs in your ear. you weren't even hungry, but your brain was so fried from the sheer size of his fat cock stretching you out that you couldn't bring yourself to care about whatever he was planning on making after this.
just mindlessly nodding along, whining under the weight of his firm body, his chest pressing against yours while the edge of his tail wrapped against one of your calves.
"my pretty mate," he purred, his forked tongue dragging up the inside of your throat as your hips tried to arch up, to drive his thick cock inside you deeper until it had bottomed out completely. "gonna look so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my-"
"s-suguru," you whimpered his name, thighs shuddering as one of his palms slid down your stomach, pressing down below your belly button like he could feel himself inside there.
you tried to recall how you ended up here.
attempted to remember what you signed up for.
you hadn't thought anyone would get back to you when you sent out your resume and head shots, but when they immediately accepted you and claimed they found you a match, promising a hefty bonus, you just sorta blindly signed whatever they sent over, skimming over the details once you saw the words 'helping rescues' and 'doing an overlooked community a great service'.
honestly, you sorta figured you'd be taking in a stray animal or something.
not letting a hybrid in heat fuck you through his rut.
but it was hard to mind when you opened your door to him and his stupidly charming smirk, those pretty purple eyes of his practically hypnotizing you when he introduced himself. you only really caught his name, distracted by his bare chiseled chest as you stepped aside to let him in.
and once he was inside, well, it didn't long for him to sink those sharp teeth of his in your throat and tear your clothes off.
his cock certainly wasn't like any of the guys you'd been with before. thicker and longer, reaching every sensitive spot without trying, every rough thrust practically rearranging your guts as he grabbed one of your thighs and pressed it up against your chest.
god, forget the paycheck.
you wanted to keep him.
"gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?" he half-hissed, working his tongue back over the sore spot just above your collarbone he'd bitten earlier.
"mm, mhm," you whimpered.
you weren't.
but it wasn't until you felt him stall, noticed the sudden pressure of something swelling by the base of his cock as it froze at your entrance, that you started to second guess what you signed up for.
a broken gasp of his name was ripped from the back of your throat, half an octave too high as the strange sensation continued up, up, up. it didn't hurt, not exactly, but the intense pressure of this new stretch was tinged with discomfort, the feeling of being molded, remade.
you couldn't even formulate words, just an incoherent string of moans escaping as you suddenly felt his tip swelling where it was firmly lodged at your cervix - and then white-hot pleasure exploding throughout your entire body, too busy trembling to realize what was happening until it was too late.
until he was in too deep.
forcing yourself to look down just to see a distinct bulge in your stomach. feeling an odd, unfamiliar weight settling there as his cock throbbed - and pushed something else through to join it.
"i-is that-"
"only a few more eggs, baby," he muttered, sweat making his dark bangs stick to his forehead as his brows scrunched together in focus. "you can take it."
you watched dumbfounded, body shuddering and shivering as your brain refused to process the fact you were being fucked full of eggs. womb stuffed to the brim as he shoved one after the other in, their soft shells bumping softly into each other as his tail around your leg tightened.
the hand that had been on your stomach shifting to toy with your clit, soothing you through it, coaxing you until you were cumming at the same time as him, thighs trembling as you tried to contain your loud moans, your body on the brink of overstimulation as you felt warm ropes of his cum starting to leak out of you.
he didn't collapse on top of you.
but he kissed your throat, trailed more delicate pecks up to your jaw and across your face. that lopsided smile of satisfaction lulling you back into a sense of security and distracting you from glancing down again.
"are you hungry?" he spoke softly, cocking his head to the side while his intense stare swept back over your body, like you were now something to take care of. "thirsty?"
"a little," you croaked, voice cracking as your lashes fluttered.
maybe you weren't an expert in snake hybrid biology, had no clue if the eggs would like, slip back out or somehow absorb your DNA, but you supposed this meant you really were mates now.
and despite how strange it felt to squirm, to move around and feel something move inside of you, you couldn't even bring yourself to be mad about it.
even if you were pretty sure you'd be stuck in this bed until the eggs came out.
a living incubator.
he ran his hand over your swollen stomach, leaning down to press a kiss to where he deposited his clutch inside you.
"snakes normally don't mate for life," he muttered with a soft hum, dragging his fingers over the outline of one of the eggs. "but i wouldn't mind spending the rest of mine like this."
div cr: @/tsumiinum
reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated :3 clearing out some of my drafts and thought some of you would appreciate this one
Satoru Gojo has been obsessed with Suguru's older sister - you - since he was old enough to even remember, and it's only gotten worse since he's grown up. Yet you still see him as 'little toru' when nothing on Satoru Gojo is 'little'. Now you're coming off a terrible breakup with your long term boyfriend Hiromi, and visiting Suguru's family for spring break. What better time to try to make you feel better by having you squirt all over his fingers!? But can you really ever fuck your brother's best friend?
pairings - Fratboy! gojo x Sugu's big sis! reader
warnings -reader is 28, he's 22, your ex is Hiromi hehe, masturbation ( m and f) yandere Gojo, fingering, squirting, oral sex (m receiving) tons of tension, a teeny bit cracked out, Toru is shameless - no one in Sugu's fam is safe from this man
wc-6.4k - NGL it's prob gonna have a pt 2 and maybe 3 lol
art creds here!
Satoru Gojo has been obsessed with you for as long as he can remember – his best friend Suguru’s older sister, watching you right now as you’re by the side of the pool. Suguru hops in and splashes you, making you jump up, your pretty tits bouncing as if to fucking torture him even further.
You’re sweet – achingly sweet, but you don’t look at him that way. You smile all cute like he’s a kid when he’s six-foot-four and you have to look up at him, since you’re six years older than Suguru and him, that’s just how you see him. Satoru thought when he graduated college surely you’d notice he’s a man now, but you treat him the same as ever.
“Little Toru!”
What the fuck on Gojo was little!?
His cock throbs underneath his swim trunks as those drops of water slip down your pretty tits, the sun glimmering off your skin. You came back to visit for the summer with your family, even though you’re twenty-eight you still come to spend time with the family, and Satoru makes sure he’s there too.
You had a nasty break up with your boyfriend, this damn lawyer you used to bring around at Christmas and Thanksgiving, Satoru cheered right in the middle of fisting his cock when he got your text. You all were close after all, he loved to make you feel better in any way he can, put a smile on your pretty face, though he’d love much more to make you fucking drool.
“You got all my sunblock off!” You huff and Suguru sticks his tongue out, your parents are in there with him along with all your annoying little cousins that visit, you’re so cute with them he can’t help but wonder how good of a mom you’d be.
Well, he’d make you one some day.
“I got you sweets,” Satoru walks over and you smile at him, trying your best not to eye fuck your little brother’s best friend – but fuck were his shoulders broader, was he more cut, what the fuck was he eating? He’s impossibly tall these fucking days like he got another inch.
Ovulating around twenty two year old Satoru after a breakup with Hiromi was fucking horrible. You clear your throat and hand him the bottle, you can ignore how his blue eyes flicker across your tits in your bikini, can’t you? Satoru had some cute crush on you, you weren’t immune to it, but he’s too fucking young for you.
“Thanks little Toru,” he laughs softly, sitting behind you and squeezing the sunblock into his palm, gliding it down your back slowly, watching the white lotion meld into your skin, wishing it was something else entirely.
“Little Toru huh,” his voice is soft behind you as his huge hands work across your skin, fingers drifting across your skin and making your lashes flutter shut for a moment, you lean right into the touch as his lips brush near your ear. “What on me is little?”
“I um…” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your parents and Suguru and children are in the damn pool and you’re over here pressing your thighs together, feeling your cunt throb and ache.
“You always called me that,” he chuckles a bit, huge body pressing up against you, casting a shadow as his fingers work the lotion into your shoulders thoroughly, his touch sinfully good. “Do you need more on you?”
“Y-yes please,” you damn near arch with him on your lounge chair, his thighs spread wide, gliding it down your arms.
“You didn’t answer me,” his huge hands take over your arms as they glide them all down your skin. “What’s little?”
You look back at Satoru, biting your lower lip. How fucking mad would Suguru be if you fucked his best friend!?
You can’t go fucking doing that.
Right?
No!?!?
Just because Hiromi hurt you doesn’t mean you can suddenly go and act on impulse, thinking with your pussy rather than any sort of brain cells. It’s simply that you’re comfortable with him, that he’s gorgeous, that for the past few years the way he looks at you makes you feel so pretty – how he talks to you all low and soft, teasing with his big smile.
It’s just that, and the fact that his body is hard, that his skin is hot – his perfect form is present right behind you. You’re fine, just remember it’s friendly, he’s just teasing you like he does. You can’t look at ‘little toru’ who just so happens to be six-foot-four and getting thicker in the chest every time you see him – how does he keep getting more fucking muscles?
Was football really doing all of this?
“I um… just call you that,” you murmur softly, breath caught in your chest, heart hammering so quickly you’re dizzy, especially with the heat radiating down against your skin, his hands brushing more lotion, pausing at your mid back.
“Move your hair to the side, it’s drippin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs lazily, you bite your lip so hard it leaves little teeth marks, pulling your hair to the side and smiling over your shoulder at him.
“There,” you murmur, eyes locked with his.
Fuck you’re pretty.
God he wants to drag you right on his goddamn lap, slide his cock to the hilt – he bets you’re so fucking tight, but he also bets you’re so wet you could just take him. When his hands slide up the curve of your spine, you can hardly stop your cunt from dripping down the damn lounge chair, his hands rubbing all that cream into your skin ever so thoroughly.
“Then why do you call me that, huh sweetheart?” He asks now, you sigh, glaring back at him just a bit. “I’m way fucking bigger than I was when you met me.”
“Well yeah, you were like a kid, Toru.”
“Now I’m way bigger than you, hmm?” His tone echoes in your ears – way bigger… you already know the sheer size of Satoru Gojo, but to think of just how big he is makes your cunt pulse.
“Ahem…” You clear your throat now, rushing up and laughing nervously, ignoring the evident bulge in his light blue swim trunks. “I’m gonna get in!”
“With your sunblock on?” He teases, you can’t answer him – can’t even look at him, no you hop right into the cold chill of the pool, trying to cool your ovulating ovaries the fuck down.
*****
It’s hard to be around you.
Literally hard.
Satoru finds himself heading into the house while you and the family are still splashing around in the pool – he certainly can’t just palm his cock when the whole family is around. He had to rush off into the damn bathroom, shutting the door behind himself, leaking so much pre he’s sticking to his trunks.
"Mnh," Satoru can’t help but tug at his drawstring, those trunks still dripping wet with the faint scent of chlorine clinging to them, he shoves the waistband down, cock springing free, slapping his flat belly button. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
Was there a better word for what you do to him? Satoru’s barely biting back a moan, wrapping his hand around that thick base of his shaft, sucking in a breath, he usually has a little more fucking self control but he doesn’t right now. Not when he got to smooth that white cream against your skin and watch it melt into it, fuck imagining rubbing his cum all over your body instead has him pulsing.
Imagine every inch of you covered in him – he’s gone truly psychotic, wanting to fucking mark you like you’re his, he was tired of seeing you with that dumb fucking lawyer. What did you need him for when you could have Satoru? What, because he’s in his thirties, Satoru Gojo was fucking filthy rich, and he’d make sure you never had to lift a pretty little finger.
“I’ll take care of you – hah, b-baby,” he’s whining out, eyelashes fluttering shut, picturing you vividly.
The way those water droplets were glistening on your skin, how your pretty tits bounced when you hopped up and Suguru splashed you. How the little bikini showed beauty marks on your tummy, a couple lines on your hips where they’ve spread just a bit since you were his age – all to spread to have his baby, he’s so sure of it.
Breedable fucking hips that he’d love to hold in his big hands, arching your back for him all pretty like a good girl – he could practically hear the moans that you’d give, they’d be much louder than the soft little sounds you made when he touched your back earlier. He can’t help but want to hear it, hear how fucking loud you get, would your sounds get all muffled as he pressed your head into the mattress?
He’s been jerking it to you since he found out what his cock even did, back when it was honestly terrible to do so, but he has no sense of guilt when it comes to you. Watching you, stealing those panties, practicing just what he’ll say as he fucks his fist devotedly to any picture he’s snuck of you, fuck he took photos from your goddamn family album he was so pathetic.
“Stop teasin’ me sweetheart,” he murmurs, stroking his cock, slowly at first to just savor the feeling of his precum smearing his reddened tip – all drooly already. He spits right down on his cock, a long trail of gossamer saliva swirling down, using it as lube while picturing how wet you’d get.
He bets you were wet with his hands running across your skin, he could feel heat that couldn’t just be from the sun, surely it was not the rays shining and warming you, it was Satoru’s nearness. He ached to taste the sun right off your skin, your cunt tasted so good on your panties, surely it would taste even better right from the source.
He starts to stroke his cock faster, fucking desperately, imagining your much smaller hand instead of his. You probably couldn’t even wrap those fingers around his girth, you’d have trouble taking him, tummy would just bulge as he moves in and out of your hole. He whimpers at that vision, imagining you looking at him with need, with hearts in your eyes.
Anything but that fucking sweet ‘big sis’ affection.
"Little Toru," he mumbles under his breath, a little laugh escaping him as he strokes his nine inches that would ruin your cunt for anyone else. “Fuck, sweetheart, you really have no idea, do you?"
Satoru’s strokes became more erratic as he imagined lifting your pretty ass up, bending you over the poolside, pulling that bikini aside and finally showing you exactly how ‘little’ he was. Fuck would you scream out Toru when he busted his load inside? When he filled you with all those creampies you deserved and he fingered it inside so it took?
It starts to feel too good, he’s so sensitive he’s leaning against the bathroom counter, groaning out, right about to cum when he hears it.
Someone jiggling the handle.
“I’m… hah, in here,” he manages to bite out, freezing when he hears your voice on the other side of the door.
“Toru I really am freezing, can I just come in real fast to grab a towel? I won’t look or anything,” you’re shivering, water dripping on your parents floor. “All the other bathrooms are taken by the kids and Suguru even stole the one in my old bedroom.”
“Oh… ah…” Your voice is making him pulse, he’s stroking faster, laughing just a bit.
“Are you laughing!? I’m freezing you little brat!”
“Brat, hah – you’re the brat baby,” you blush on the other side of the door, jiggling the handle again. “So eager to see my dick?”
“Oh you’re ridiculous – like I haven’t seen all you have before.”
“That was years ago, I’ve changed,” he murmurs, biting back a whimper unsuccessfully. “Not little Toru anymore.”
“Will you hurry up then? I am so fucking cold, ugh,” you’re shivering in your soaked towel – all the splashing got it so bad it’s fucking useless. “Satoru Gojo!”
“Fuck, fuck just… one sec, you’re impatient,” he strokes his thick cock one more time, whimpering out when his white ropes start spilling on the sink, his eyelashes fluttering, cheeks all flushed in his reflection.
“What the fuck are you doing in there? Did you hurt yourself or something!?”
“Hah… no…” He’s moaning now, the relief felt from his balls not being so goddamn tight and full of cum, he quickly starts wiping down the marble counters littered with his milky strings. “Hold on, okay? Fuck…”
“Fine,” you cross your arms, trembling like crazy, Satoru hastily opens the door after he tugs his swim trunks on, opening it and forcing you to look up at him, so damn tall you’re right there with his chest.
Little Toru indeed.
He’s a giant now.
“Finally,” you mumble, he leans one of those long ass arms over and grabs a dry towel, wrapping it around you and taking the wet one, hanging it up. “Oh thank you.”
“Made ya wait that long, can at least dry you up,” he murmurs, wrapping you even tighter, hands massaging the terry cloth covered arms that are covered in goosebumps. Your breath catches, looking up at him, far too close, you can feel that heat just radiating off his skin. “There, any better?”
“Um yeah, I’m sorry I was so impatient,” you mumble nervously, looking down and seeing the way his abs tense as he breathes, further down to the slutty little happy trail he has.
That’s when you pause.
Is that… is that… cum!? On his fucking belly button!? Is that his tip peaking-
“Satoru!” He blinks curiously as you push at him, his hands still firm on your shoulders.
“What, are you on your period? Acting all moody one minute, sweet the next.”
“You can’t ask me that!? Were you…” You lean close, whispering. “Jerking off, really?”
He smirks.
“I had to freeze so you could finish? Couldn’t you wait till you’re back in the room to do that?”
“Aw, did you wanna watch, sweetheart?” He asks, tilting your chin up, his lids getting lazy over those curved up blue eyes of his. You swallow then, your throat dry from his fingers caressing your jaw. “I would have let you if I knew.”
“Of course I didn’t…” You can’t even speak, not when you’re looking at his abs again, he leans back and laughs a bit.
“Ah, didn’t tug them up enough,” he hides what looks like a pretty blush tip, smiling like he’s fucking embarassed, he is flushed but it’s for an entirely different reason. “Is that better, sweetheart?”
“It’s… on you, god,” it’s your turn to blush, he hums a bit, stepping back lazily to drag his fingers across his own cum, putting them to his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks his own release off them.
Oh fuck.
You swallow nervously, the sight of it is utterly filthy, his hum as if he tastes so sweet, fluffy lashes fluttering. “Mmm, I guess I missed a spot when I cleaned up. My bad.”
“Your bad!? You’re such a…” you trail off now, you’re aching and he looks too fucking good, psychotic ass blue eyes all lit up as they study you. You can't even finish the sentence, your face burning with a blush that has nothing to do with the sun you took in.
"I'm such a what?" he presses closer to you, until your back is against the door, it closes behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the little guest bathroom.
“Such a…” you clear your throat, feeling him against you, you should pinch his ear or smack him in the back of the head like you did when he was younger – but you can’t even move.
He's all warm against you, the sticky remnants of his own release splayed across that pale skin, a hand on the wall beside you. The way he’s looking at you and his sheer proximity are doing things to you that you absolutely refuse to acknowledge.
“Such a pervert,” you glare and he chuckles, cupping your face with a hand now – that’s not how a twenty two year old frat boy should look down at you, should act, with his arm fucking raised and the little thatch of hair still damp underneath them. His silky locks are falling in slick little strands across his brow. “A total pervert.”
“Me? No, sweetheart,” he smirks down at you like the little shit he is. "I’m just taking care of a problem you caused."
"I caused it!?" you squeak out the words almost embarassing, pushing at his chest half heartedly – he’s so built and muscular it’s like pushing against a brick wall, his heart thudding under your palm. You barely manage a glare. "How is any of this ridiculous behavior my fault?"
He catches your wrists in one of his big hands, thumb brushing over the delicate network of veins, right over your frantic pulse. “How is it your fault?”
“Yes, you psycho.”
“You exist," his words confuse the fuck out of you then, breaths faster until your tits are rising and falling in the top just a bit too small, his gaze drops to it when your towel hopelessly falls. He exhales and traces his hand over the curve of your tit, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches. “That’s how it’s your fault.”
‘B-because I exist?” You whisper, shaking your head now. “You’re just fucking with me, what does that even mean?”
"You wore that bikini,” he murmurs, a thigh coming between yours, instead of tugging away you shamelessly arch your hips, earning his soft little exhale. “You let me put sunscreen on you, didn’t you? Let me touch your skin, while you’re fucking looking like that." His eyes – those impossibly fucking bright blue eyes – drag down your body, like he’s touching you
“That makes no sense, you’ve always seen me in swimsuits, Satoru. You may have had some little crush when you were younger, but you’re an adult.”
“And so the fuck are you, a whole woman, hmm?” He whispers, you hate how good it makes you feel. “Fuck you must be ovulating, swear I can smell it.”
“You cannot freak!?” You shove again, but your hips move, heat emanating even from your soaked bikini bottoms, the scent of chlorine mixing with the sweetness of his breath, the musk of that slight sweat underneath his arms.
“Bet your body wants a baby in her,” he smirks, his hips dragging you down on his thigh, a trail of slick glittering on it. You whine out, biting your lip and shaking your head. "What did you expect to happen, you lookin’ like that, after that man was dumb enough to leave you?"
"I expected you to act like a normal person, even if y-you somehow think I’m hot or something, you can’t just… act like this, all psychotic. What do you mean babies inside me!?”
“Oh you don’t wanna be bred?” You almost whimper goddamn this little brat.
“You’re a little fratboy.”
“A little fratboy?” He repeats, you bite down on your lower lip and nod. “You want me to act normal, huh?”
“Y-yes go back too… whatever it was um… before. Go fuck your little frat girls at your parties, girls your age," your voice is weak, breathless and fucking pathetic – you hate whatever the hell was happening, the fact that you’re aching for him to do just that – pump cum right inside you.
"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, leaning in and letting his lips hover until they’re almost touching yours. "I haven't been normal about you since I was twelve years old."
“That’s insane,” you hiss, shaking your head again, his thigh pressing up and you feel your body respond, his hands tugging at your waist, thumbs right underneath the swells of your breasts.
"You really have no fucking clue, do you?"
Your heart is hammering in your chest as you drink him in, half naked and still glimmering with the pool water.
This is Satoru.
Annoying, bratty, little Toru – who used to follow you around like a lost puppy, then grew to just annoy the ever loving shit out of you. Suguru’s best friend who has spent more time with your parents than you have in the past ten years – he’s ‘Toru’ and that’s that.
Right?
He can’t be the man who sucks cum off his fingers.
You should push him away – walk out and lock yourself in your room for the entirety of the rest of your stay, you should do anything but let his lips brush the corner of your lips, do anything but whimper. Anything but moan softly when he tugs down your top, groaning at the sight of one of your pretty tits bare, with the faint lines the sun left on your skin.
“Oh my fuck,” he whispers, he didn’t know you’d be that fucking beautiful, he had snuck so many glimpses but to see that pretty nipple in person? “Look at you.”
“I… we… even if you’re not Suguru’s best friend, even if you weren’t six years younger – I literally just broke up with-”
“A dumb fuck?” You glare at him. “He’s stupid to ever leave you.
“You don’t know him, and… even if we um… did something-”
“What!?”
You sigh, shaking your head. “Satoru-”
“You wanna do something!? With me!?” You snort a bit at how suddenly cute he is, before he gathers himself, hand trailing down your tummy, it trembles underneath the surprising roughness of his fingertips. “Want me to make you cum, pretty?”
“Fuck,” where’d he learn to talk like this!? Hiromi could eat pussy – and that man could fuck, but something about Satoru’s utter desperation and devotion had you gushing and pulsing around nothing. “I… you can… can you…”
“Can I make you cum?” He chuckles, finding your elastic, slipping his fingers underneath so his finger grazes your clit, your hips buck at it, whining out weakly. “Yeah, sweetheart, I can make you cum until you’re squirting right on this fucking floor.”
“J-just… fuck, just…” You should push him off – but instead, you find yourself shoving his hand down further, eyes fluttering shut, your head back ever so slightly against the door. “There, my clit, please… please, fuck…”
It’s happening.
Satoru’s dreamt of this moment since he even knew somewhat was a pussy was, and yours was soaking goddamn wet, so messy it’s loud, echoing in the bathroom, he swirls it in little circles as you rock your hips, still straddling one of his thighs. He pulls it back and picks you up, making you gasp, sitting you right on the sink and tugging your bottoms to the side.
“Toru, I…”
“Fuck yes, god call me that,” if he hadn’t already jerked off – he’d be cummin’ again just eyeing your needy, puffy cunt. “Fuckin’ perfect lil cunt, god, just look at you, soaked.”
Your lashes flutter shut, expecting a finger and then shocked when you feel a glob of saliva right on your needy clit. “Ah!”
“Mmm,” he’s humming, spreading his own spit around, smirking at the sight of his bubbly, gossamer saliva coating your cunt. “Perfect just like that… Do you need them inside? Bet yours couldn’t hit.”
“Shut it, Toru,” you’re yanking on his wrist, making him moan with how you take over, he’s used to girls just a little too shy, not that it was a bad thing – but you knew what you wanted, grabbing his fingers and sucking them.
“Oh my… f-fuckk…” He almost does cum watching your cheeks hollow, seeing you suck him down to the knuckle, your pretty pussy just drippin’ right down the counter as you arch your hips more.
“Hurry b-before they notice,” you whisper desperately now, guiding his hand down to your needy hole, whining out softly. “Two, put two in, please.”
“Sure you can take it?” You just nod eagerly, he swirls them and then buries them to the fucking hilt inside, you have to smack a hand on your mouth, drool spilling across your palm as he starts easing them in and out. “Fuck, took em s’good just f’me, huh? Just like that, needy lil cunt wants me.”
“Sh-shh,” is all you manage to mumble, lifting your hand and yanking him down, hand entangled in his silky hair. “Once, just once and… we can’t…”
Hah, as if Satoru would just touch you once, when he’s rocking his fingers up and down, making a squelching fucking mess, your eyes roll back in your skull as he works them faster, until the clicking is just echoing obscenely. “Once, huh?”
“You finger me, I’ll s-suck you.”
“Slutty girl,” you can’t stand how he says that, how his long digits press on your puffy lil cervix, barely able to formulate a fucking thought as he works you so much you’re desperately trying to get a breath. “That’s it, gonna cum that easy? Just f’me, hmm? All me?”
You can’t answer, so you drag him down for a kiss – and that’s when you lose it, kissing Satoru wasn’t normal – not the way he moans like a little slut, desperately taking over your mouth. His hands dragging every bit of slick from your cunt as impossibly more comes down his thick fucking fingers.
“God,” he whispers, hardly able to catch his breath. “You’re so tight, fuck…”
“Mnh,” you can hardly manage to speak, think of anything but how good it feels, his fingers going even faster now. “So much… too much I…”
“You can take them baby,” he whispers – in a way ‘little toru’ sure the fuck shouldn’t, his eyes black with their blown out pupils, kissing down the side of your jaw and curving his fingers right up against that soft spot on your front wall. “Look, you’re doin’ s’good already.”
“Ngh,” you’re so goddamn close, your head falling back for him to work you quicker. “Gonna cum… gonna…”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Fuck,” you hiss the words, but Satoru doesn’t pull his fingers back, he moves them slower, to edge you, to torture you.
Isn’t it what you’ve done all these years?
“Act normal,” he murmurs, lips brushing your earlobe, sharp teeth nicking it as he eases his fingers out, rubbing your clit back and forth so quickly you’re about to scream out loud. “If you wanna cum, you’ll just act like I’m not here.”
“H-hey, yes?” You barely manage to squeak out, Satoru smiles against your neck, pinching your clit and making you bite down hard on his bare shoulder, leaving glittery teeth marks.
“Sis, we’re about to grill out – I can’t find Satoru,” you found him all right – he’s tugging your hair at the roots so you look at him as he’s about to make you squirt all over. “Have you seen him?”
“Hah I d-did,” fuck, he’s rocking them faster, smirking cruelly at your plight. “I saw him um… upstairs dancing to some t swift.”
“You brat,” he hisses in your ear, Suguru chuckles.
“Yeah, sounds like him.”
It’s not even!?
Satoru shoves his fingers in against that cervix and makes you whine out, grinning all evil as you glare at him. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing, Sugu! Um… I’m getting freshened up, then I’ll meet you guys outside, okay?” You bite back a moan when Satoru’s kissing your neck, tongue lapping up a little vein underneath your skin he traces, free hand plucking your nipple and twisting it. The dual stimulation is too fucking much.
“No worries, sis, I’ll throw some chicken breast on there for you,” now you feel guilty – great!
“Thanks Sugu, you’re the best,” you murmur, he’s walking away now, leaving this psycho who’s fingering you faster. “I’m gonna… cum, fuck, fuck…”
“Aww you’re easy f’me,” he whispers, eyeing you as you’re about to fall apart, fingers shoved right back inside your needy hole. “I’ll make you forget him, forget anyone but me.”
“Psycho, what!? Just… ah!” He slams a big hand over your mouth, chuckling dark and fucking sadistic as he makes you squirt all over, it’s spraying against his hand and even hits his tummy, making him moan.
“God, look at that,” he’s pulling those fingers out of your pulsing walls in wonder, peering at the mess you made. “You’ve got me covered, sweetheart, you’ve got such a slutty lil pussy.”
“Fuck…” You’re so weak, when you hop off and shove him against the wall, kneeling and tugging at his waist band.
“Oh my god…” THIS IS HAPPENING.
The girl of his dreams is on her knees, her squirt all on his fingers, he’s sucking it off them as he grips your hair, letting out a desperate whine when you kitten lick his drooly tip.
“You’re already hard again for me?” Your whisper is diabolical, he barely manages a fucking word – all his braincells gone when you stroke his cock, sucking his tip and swirling the flat of your tongue.
Oh you’re a pro at sucking cock – and he’s mad about it.
“Wish you never had one but mine in your m-mouth,” he’s huffing, pressing on the back of your neck so you take impossibly more of him in your mouth, fucking into your throat needy and desperate. “Do you have n-no gag reflex!?”
“Hmm,” you’d smile if your throat wasn’t blissfully full of his pretty cock – you’d feel bad about that later, not right now, when your fingers are pumping inside your quivering hole, still sensitive from him. When his fingers tighten in your hair, bucking his hips and whimpering out
“Can you take all of it, huh? Doubt you can – oh my f-fuckkk.” You suck him deeper before he can think, your nose brushing against the soft white hairs nestled at his base as you look right up at him. “Oh my… fuck your throat it’s so goddamn slutty… mnh…”
Satoru’s supposed to make you whimper, not the other way around, but how can he do anything other than stutter, bucking them so that he slips his tip right past your uvula, you have tears in your eyes, sniffling a bit, but aside from that you’re bobbing your damn head. He can’t even imagine that lawyer got this, got you sucking him so deep and choking on his cock and left that shit.
Your eyes are so pretty he’s stunned, he dreamt of them looking up at him like this but really nothing could prepare him for what it’s like to have the girl he’s jerked off to forever taking him in between her lips.
"Fuck, your mouth... god, your mouth is better than I ever..." he trails off into a strangled little slutty moan, those pink lips parted as you pull back.
You have strings of saliva and drool just dissolving, he can hear your messy little pussy as you shamelessly overstimulate it, sucking him till he’s dizzy. “Mmm, you like it, huh? You’re so wet for me, Toru.”
“Oh fuck you,” you giggle and he almost laughs – but it turns into a choked little moan, you’re swirling your tongue around the sensitive ridge of his tip, tonguing that slit where all his pearly cum is slipping. “God, your fucking mouth.”
“Mhm,” you murmur, before plunging down again, slurping him the fuck down as you look up at him through your lashes.
The sight almost makes him lose it right there, busting from less than two minutes of your pretty lips stretched around him, the sight of your pretty tears at the corner of your eyes the only tell that it took effort stuffing his cock in your throat. Tight, needy throat that reflexively swallows around him as he cups your face to hold it in place, fucking your face harder.
“Gotta finger your cunt again? Needy, messy lil slut – all f’me, isn’t it?” You can’t help but whine out around him – yes, it’s all for him, and he knows it. Even as he’s whining out he’s dominating you, fucking your throat raw – you won’t even be able to talk tomorrow. “I can’t wait to drink that pretty pussy, f-fuck… god, when i pump you full of cum I’ll lick it right out.”
Satoru Gojo is absolutely fucking insane.
And you’re about to cum again just sucking him and fucking your own pussy with your much smaller fingers.
His hips are already jerking off rhythm now, meaner with it as he’s fucking himself back into your willing mouth. "Such a fucking tease for years... ah, shit, don't stop, b-baby please – m’gonna-”
One moment fucking your throat so hard you’re choking, the next murmuring your praises – pretty girl, needy slut, fuckin’ tease, my sweetheart – he’s a babbling mess, and you can’t help but feel so sexy doing it. Hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard as you pull back, feeling his hands tremble as they tug at your hair.
“Gonna swallow all of me? Hah – god just wait, I’ll fill all your fucking holes,” well that just fucking sends you, when he’s not gentle and he’s slamming his cock mean in your throat, heavy balls smacking your chin as you drool down them.
He murmurs your name when you feel him pulse and thicken, before he does just that – fills your throat with all that sweet, salty mix of his cum, hitting the back of your throat. You swallow it all, every last drop fucking greedy as you cum again, spasming and gushing down your own fingers.
You don’t stop licking him – not even after you’ve sucked his milky seed in your throat, you’re sucking his sensitive cock after, until he's whimpering your name.
"Jesus Christ," he whispers, finally letting go of your hair to gently stroke your cheek, you pull back with a messy pop and he struggles to even find a word for what just happened. “You’re so…”
“Good at it?” you tease, standing with his help and giggling, but it’s all shut off when he tilts your chin, kissing your swollen lips and lapping his own cum off with the tip of his tongue.
“Mmm, was gonna say beautiful,” your eyes locked.
Oh fuck.
It’s not just ovulation – you know it then and there.
Before you can have an entire mental breakdown, oh and a quarter life fucking crisis, you both hear everyone laughing outside. “Shit we…”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, fucked out and spent by you.
Satoru wasn’t innocent – but with you he felt like it – there’s never been anything like what you just did, fucking up his goddamn mind.
You rush out to the cookout after getting dressed like nothing happened – acting all unaffected and infuriating him to no end.
But it was just that, an act.
One he calls your ass out when Suguru is flipping burgers on the grill, and he’s handing you a beer with a little curve of his lips. “Oh, thanks ‘little toru’.”
“Hah,” he chuckles a bit, tilting his head. “Your sore throat tells me there’s nothing little about me anymore, hmm?”
“Shh!?” you look around wildly, as if someone could hear. “It was… just… I was…”
“Aching for my cock in your throat?” He leans low now, where no one in your family can hear him. “I’m a gentleman, sweetheart, I prefer to eat my meals first.”
“Eat your…” you blush now. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” he sighs, aching to brush your hair back, but knowing at that moment how many people were around. “Gonna let me return your favor?”
Before you can answer, your mother's voice – all fucking bright and peppy – cuts through the relaxed atmosphere of the pool party, making everyone look over at her curiously. Oh, except Satoru – he’s stuck looking at you underneath his fluffy damn lashes.
"Look who's here! Hiromi, darling, over here!"
Fuck.
Hiromi!?
You turn and there he is. Your ex who broke your damn heart – Hiromi Higuruma, looking all handsome in a dark linen shirt and shorts, his hair just a little bit of a disaster as it always was. He has this polite, almost apologetic smile on his handsome face, the one you used to ride until he drowned in you.
You almost could forget how bad he hurt you until he was right here.
He's holding a bottle of wine and awkwardly greeting your father, who is clapping him on the back all friendly, steering him directly toward you.
"Hiromi, so glad you could make it!" You wanna die. Satoru’s tense as fuck right next to you.
He wants to kill this man.
He would kill anyone that’s ever even touched you, truly, if he could really get away with it.
Your mother is right behind Hiromi, smiling at you and making you scowl. "I just told Hiromi we were so surprised you two happened to be in town at the same time! It's a sign, don't you think, to reconnect? Even as… friends to the family, right?"
Oh, god.
Your fucking parents.
Higuruma's dark brown eyes find yours, and you feel all that pain all over again, mixing with the drink in your system, the pleasure from Suguru’s best friend – and the heat of the sun. Dizzy, you barely feel Satoru’s warmth against you.
It was not just sucking dick – and that terrifies you – but now, Hiromi is here and confusing the ever loving shit out of you. You thought you’d never see him again.
"Hey," he says softly to you, peering over at Satoru for a moment, before his gaze is back on yours. "Your parents invited me here, I didn’t want to be rude but also… didn’t want…”
He sighs then.
“I just really wanted to see you again.”
Satoru’s pretty blue eyes narrow – there’s no fucking way he’s letting anyone touch the girl that just deep throated his cock, the girl who he’s about to put babies inside. No, he’s not sharing – and Hiromi needs to fucking go – he has a girl he needs to make his.
hehe do we wanna pt 2 bc I can't help myselfff - </333 I was actually inspired when i read @revolvingsaturn's fic about Sugu's mom, ngghhh go check it
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆
“…”
“—y Lady…My Lady!”
“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”
“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”
You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”
“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”
“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”
“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“
“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth.
“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”
With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.
“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”
“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”
“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“
“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”
The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”
Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”
Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”
You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.
As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen.
You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.
In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.
To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.
“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur.
“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.
“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”
“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“
“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“
You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”
You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!”
“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.”
“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right.
“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”
“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”
You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”
“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”
“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”
“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”
You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword — handmade and light for my hands.”
“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.”
Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”
You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…
It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words.
Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.
It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever.
“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”
“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”
Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”
Me? “Me?”
“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”
“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.”
“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”
“That is my stated birthright—“
“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.”
You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.
“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”
There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument.
Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”
“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.”
With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”
The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.
You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see.
With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress.
What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation.
“Hey.”
Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person.
You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.
The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.
“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“
“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”
“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”
“You think I’m weak on my own?”
“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”
“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”
You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”
He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”
You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“
Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.
Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”
You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.”
“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.
You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”
“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”
It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.”
Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.”
“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.”
He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”
You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”
His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly.
“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.”
You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?
“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.”
“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.”
“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”
The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?”
“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”
The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”
“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”
“Oh, c’mon Utahime — an hour, give me one hour!”
“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!”
You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head.
Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“
“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”
His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.”
“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her.
But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna.
“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.”
“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.”
“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.”
It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.”
Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night.
And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event.
Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.
“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“
“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”
His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”
The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.”
“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—
“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.
Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”
Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”
Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”
“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”
“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”
“Very. I’m a being of action—“
“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”
“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.”
“Not if my business is taken care of first.”
The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.”
“My Lords, please!”
The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you.
Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.
You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”
“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”
“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“
“Aht aht!”
“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”
“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles.
“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.”
You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.
“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”
“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”
“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…”
Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…
“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.”
It all took one second — one mere second.
One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.
One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.
One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly.
He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?
The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”
“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.”
The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.”
The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”
“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.”
You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!
“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.”
“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now.
Wait a minute…
“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“
He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm.
Please, wait, stop—
“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”
The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.”
NO, STOP IT!!
This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear!
“I accept both!!”
The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet.
You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?
“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed.
Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—
“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…”
And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.
I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”
The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion.
“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”
The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”
You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”
“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”
“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”
That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”
“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”
“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”
“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”
The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.
A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”
A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Your final decision?”
“Correct.”
The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”
“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”
“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”
His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”
Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”
You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“
“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!”
“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”
The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”
“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“
“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”
“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”
Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”
“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”
“Over my dead body, human trash.”
“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”
Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.
“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”
Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.
“Please, I just…can’t bear it.”
Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves.
Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”
A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”
Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”
Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.”
The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”
The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…
…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you.
“…What are you doing?"
But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.
“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”
Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.
Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.
“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”
Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.
“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm.
“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”
Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.
“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”
The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”
You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer.
“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”
And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”
“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”
“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”
The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues.
Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.
…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.
How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well.
And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously.
All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.
Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.
Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!
“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”
“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”
“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”
The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”
“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”
“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair.
The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.
“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being.
“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”
“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”
Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”
“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”
“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.
“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina.
“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”
“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”
His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”
Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl.
But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.
Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.
“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.
“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”
Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”
The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half.
Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”
“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear.
“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.
And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”
Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”
“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes.
A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.
“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.
“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”
His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!
However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.
“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”
“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”
The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.
Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.
Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”
“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”
“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”
“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood.
“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”
Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.
“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”
Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you.
You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.
Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.
For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.
“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”
“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”
“Princess, you all right…?”
Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.
You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.
“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”
“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”
Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth.
“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…
“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…
“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”
“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression.
“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.”
You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”
She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”
Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“
“MARRIAGE!!??”
“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”
The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”
“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.”
“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”
They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine.
“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself.
However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”
You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”
“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”
“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“
“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.”
You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“
“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”
The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.
“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”
“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”
Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I’ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”
“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”
Huh??!! “Pardon??”
“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!”
“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!”
You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men.
Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.
Synopsis. On campus? Choso Kamo’s the sweet, shy nerd you share film class with - the one who can barely meet your eyes without blushing. Online? Choso Kamo is really @cursed(your)wombz—the #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends with 820k followers to see his…nine inches. And he might just be looking for a partner.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, streamer!Choso, (sort of) B́J Alex AU, cámboy!Choso, college AU, he’s a nerd, film nerd!Choso, secret identities, masks, píercings (ears, tóngue, D), tattoos, chat, streaming, you’re a fan, identity reveal, exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), again PlERCINGS, tongue f, spítting, p sIapping, p talking, letting the viewers choose, fíngering with rings, overstím, dúmbifícation, Jacob’s Ladder, rough s, fiIthy s, he’s sIightly mean, tummy buIges, making it fit, pressing down, talking you through it, cIit pinching, pússydrúnk Choso, matíng presses, chokíng, manhandIing, mocking, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, chat Iove you, cúmpIay, getting together, Phantom of the Opera references, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.9k
A/N. Hehehehehe-
Sunday was the night you’d found him; sprawled out on your bed and thumbing through the Internet. Some glitzy pop song you couldn’t name blasted from your speakers, and the room was saturated in the tingly excitement of having speedy Wi-Fi, no assignments, and the night to yourself. LED lights pink.
You’re checking some of your messages - doling out a few hearts, a few reposts - when that bell-shaped button bursts in blue. A new notification.
@cursed(your)wombz liked your repost.
It was on a photograph of the Sun—big and yellow, seemingly melting over a grey horizon.
Which was perfectly ordinary- this was the Internet, after all. And though your list of followers was modest, of course you’d interact with a stranger here and there.
The problem was in the way the notification disappeared as soon as it came.
An…accident maybe? This person had liked and unliked your repost. And without a second thought, you’re typing their username into the search bar.
And clicking on their profile.
@cursed(your)wombz huh?
He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating:
I know what you want…
- C.
And beneath that was a link.
It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield.
You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.
0 Following.
581k Followers.
Now that makes you blink.
Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on.
Now that was a little strange.
And so you’re scrolling down.
And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg.
Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.
Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…
The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.
The photo is almost vampiric in nature.
Somehow.
Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is.
Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.
The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout.
Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.
Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more.
The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel.
And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan.
Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls.
And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.
Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it.
The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.
And you click on it.
Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.
Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.
“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”
Ah- you’d guessed right.
Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.
It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.
This time, it was a stream.
@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3
0 Subscribed.
820k Subscribers.
455k Currently watching.
This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.
Perfectly angled.
Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down.
Again and again.
Getting faster by the second before he arches-
The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.
You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.
And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet.
Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.
Pearly white droplets of cum.
Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.
You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.
And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?
You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?”
A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.
“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline.
The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”
There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.
“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”
You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!
@vampzo333: me too ME TOO
@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT
@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~
@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE
@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.
“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge.
Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?
You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked.
Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”
Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.
Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?
Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…
Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.
Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.
“The first time?”
Fuck.
You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.
You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.
Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.
“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.
“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”
@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.
@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~
@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!
You giggle to yourself.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?
“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”
The chat explodes in agreement.
He cocks his head, “Movie?”
Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-
@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.
“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”
Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.
Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.
Hard and fast.
The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him.
It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.
Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.
You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.
He mouths, “Movie—”
Part of your username.
Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…
Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.
Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you.
Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…
And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.
By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!
@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~
@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…
Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.
@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.
@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.
“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”
You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.
“Heh- bye, sluts.”
And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off.
Yet your heart still thunders.
Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…
.
.
.
It was your fault that you kept dozing off.
Honestly.
You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.
And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.
Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…
You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.
Why was the Sun coming up?
And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture.
Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those.
By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.
Just-so-happening to be in the very last row.
At the very forgotten corner.
Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.
Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through.
If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.
Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?
Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns.
Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.
Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.
You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.
Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.
The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.
Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything.
But if he did, he shows no indication.
Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying.
And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…
Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.
And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low.
Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.”
“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”
He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.
And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…
Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy.
Heavy.
Heavier.
Tap-tap-tap.
A shake.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified.
You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”
“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”
You’d seriously slept through all that?
And Yaga had left you alive?!
No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”
He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”
You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…
And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”
You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-
“Wait—!”
Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”
And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”
That makes you pause.
Was he…
“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”
Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.
And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”
Probing him gently, “But?”
“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”
“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”
He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”
“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”
“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.
And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”
“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”
.
.
.
The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms.
Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.
You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.
This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-
Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”
“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…
He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”
“Thank you.”
And you rise upwards in silence.
Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast.
He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.
“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside.
And you can’t help but follow.
A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.
Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”
“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”
He smiles.
That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.
.
.
.
The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.
And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.
It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder.
So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.
Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.
And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.
Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.
You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now.
Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.
Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs.
It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.
Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.
You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more-
Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”
@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.
@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?
@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that.
@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^
@0003h0lesforCurse: ^
“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”
@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-
@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!
“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-
@bipplruletheworld: so down.
@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!
@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.
The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…
Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”
You jolt—at being called out.
He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.
But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard.
Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!
Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.”
He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible.
You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).
.
.
.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?
That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.
You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.
The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.
He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”
His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”
“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”
“O-oh, of course—!”
And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—
You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom.
Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”
And you jump-
Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”
“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!
And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.
Body just resting on the plush comforter before-
“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.
And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…
Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.
Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.
Heavy.
Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-
“Ah, so you’ve realized.”
And then his voice permeates the room.
The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea.
He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.
One by one.
His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre.
You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”
He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.
“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”
“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.
He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame.
His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”
And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body.
Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”
“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”
He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…
“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”
You step a little closer.
“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”
He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-
And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own.
He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”
It was. It fit perfectly.
And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.
Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.
And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him.
“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!
@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??
@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3
“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”
@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…
“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”
@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^
@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-
@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…
“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”
You’re sheepishly walking into their view.
Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”
“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”
@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu
And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?
Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.
And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.
Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.
Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”
“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off.
And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”
@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…
@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!
“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.
And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack!
“Please-”
“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”
Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera.
And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet.
And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.
Right down your sopping wet slit.
Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.
And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive.
Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.
Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.
And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.
Your only warning.
Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—
It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.
Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”
Oh, shit.
You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-
You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second.
“I—oh, I um.”
Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.
You admit, “M-maybe…”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”
And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.”
“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”
Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-
And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.
@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-
@daddytoeknee: WOW.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!
@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon
The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it.
Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.
Like a man starved.
Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.
“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.
More, more, and more.
Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-
And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”
“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”
“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”
“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.
@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE
@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.
“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”
@vampzo333: 3
@bbynohuuuuzz: 14
@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29
“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.
To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:
@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.
Oh.
Your blood runs cold.
Your cunt grows heated.
And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”
Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.
@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-
And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus.
Tentacles flared out.
“Shit, not that damn ring again.”
And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!
Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-
Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.
This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way.
@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??
@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-
@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.
And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…
In and out.
In and out.
Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.
Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit.
Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.
With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”
“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”
“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat.
@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!
@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH
@daddytoeknee: Me next <3
And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?
Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.
He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.
Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.
“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”
“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting.
Perfect on camera.
You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!
“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”
The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.
Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…
@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!
@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn
It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.
Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.
That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.
And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.
Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed.
Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”
“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”
Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-
“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”
@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.
@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.
“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!
One.
Two.
You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—
“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”
A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.
“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”
At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”
“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”
And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.
“Or C…” You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”
And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.
C floods your vision.
You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.
And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.
Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.
Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”
Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-
So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.
Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.
You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”
And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.
In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-
Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos.
With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.
And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.
@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.
@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK
@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.
@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^
@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??
Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.
They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing.
When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere.
Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.
And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.
He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.
And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”
“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”
“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”
You gulp.
@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…
@vampzo333: ^^
@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^
“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”
There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.
Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…
And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle.
He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”
The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.
“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle.
A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.
He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.
“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”
You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”
“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”
He trails off.
He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.
Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.
And he doesn’t even seem to notice.
He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-
You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.
“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.
Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.
@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…
@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??
@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this
@Fishygurodad: Whatever…
Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”
Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.
And suddenly you’re understanding.
Oh—he was toying with you.
And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.
But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.
Big and thick.
Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.
And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”
@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.
@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…
@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?
You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”
“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it.
“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”
“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”
Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”
“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”
“Fuh-fuuuck-”
“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks.
You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”
“Does she really have my mark on it now?”
“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.
His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?”
“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.
Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?”
Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera.
“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”
“I do—I do-”
Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.
The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor.
Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes.
@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33
@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!
@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?
@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.
@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up
“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.
Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…
And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.
Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering.
He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.
“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-
But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—
And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.
The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it.
Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”
“N-never—”
“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”
“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.
Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”
Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”
“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”
His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated.
And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.
Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits.
You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?
Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.
And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”
And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—?
“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”
“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.
“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”
“Not in the l-least…”
And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s.
Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.
A thrust even harder than the ones before it.
Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.
And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”
He gasps dramatically-
Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.
The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”
You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure.
@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.
@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe
@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM
Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”
“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.
His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”
“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.
And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”
And that proved it.
That proved it.
Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more.
When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.
His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.
His hair drenched in sweat.
His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you.
Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy.
Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—
“Curse, baby…” You hum.
“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.
This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”
He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”
@Fishygurodad: Yes.
@Curse’swifey: YES.
@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~
@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-
He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.
Luckily for you, they liked you.
And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.
For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…”
Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”
“Mhmmmm.”
Unable to even find the words.
The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.
Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.
The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.
Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”
Wave upon wave.
Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.
If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.
He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—
You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before.
Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”
He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”
“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.
“So um- coffee after this?”
“It better be dinner.”
He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”
Your eyes widen.
And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”
You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.
And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??
@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-
@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-
@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?
@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.
@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??
@Fishygurodad: Damn.
@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.
@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.
@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3
A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-
synopsis: you were giving up on him. for real this time. after years of silently pining over your friend's brother, you were done giving him any space in your heart. until a date goes wrong and he waltzes back into your life - seemingly intent on winning your heart this time. can you resist him? or will you just be repeating history?
pairing: tattoo artist!Sukuna x f!Reader
wc: 8.2k
content: mdni, angst + smut, some fluff sprinkled in too, hurt/comfort, HEAVY JEALOUSY, sukuna is an asshole at first but he learns!, he's UNHINGED though lmfao, lowk crazy and yandere bc this man is obsessed and plotting, aspiring artist!reader, heavy pining/yearning, gojo appearance but he's a bit of a dick, fist fighting lol, Sukuna scheming to win us over, regret, tattoos, fucking in the tattoo chair, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie
a/n: this was a commission by the lovely @ynishalee !! sukuna art is by @/to00fu + divider by @/d-oie !!
“Seriously? You thought this shit was worth showing me?”
You flinched. Stared at the portfolio you brought in veiny hands before he tossed it back on the counter, a few pieces of laminated paper slipping out before you scrambled to pick it up and shove them back in.
What did you think?
That just because you were friends (or as close to it as you could get) with Sukuna, he wouldn't be a complete and total asshole for once in his life? That maybe he'd be impressed with your attempts at art after making a career out of his own?
“I cleared my evening for this,” he grumbled, running his fingers through his soft pink hair, brows pinched together in a scowl as his dark eyes settled squarely on you. “I could’ve booked a client. One that paid?”
“Sorry,” you apologized, stepping back, glancing towards the door.
Stupid.
Stupid stupid stupid.
You should’ve known better. Should’ve realized that even after fifteen years, all you’d really be to him was a nuisance.
“Whatever,” he groaned, grabbing his jacket from where he’d left it on his stool and stretching out his shoulders before slipping it on. “You can buy me a beer to make up for it.”
This was what moderately nice looked like with him. And the only reason he even put up with you this much was because you were friends with his brother first. Jin was the opposite of Sukuna, soft-spoken and considerate and not a complete asshole, someone you met back in school. He introduced you to his twin brother – and that was history.
You’d been nursing a childish crush on him from that very first day.
It still made you feel like a fucking moron.
All you wanted was for him to see you.
Maybe you were asking for too much. But the rejection burned as you buried it deep in your chest, mumbling sure as you turned away from him. Rubbing underneath your eyes before you started needing to blink back tears, refusing to let yourself cry like a baby in front of him.
But you were apparently still lacking in the self-respect department when you held the door open for him in one hand and cradled your now-worthless portfolio against your chest in the other.
You drove separately.
Following his car to a seedy club downtown, parking a couple blocks away and jogging to catch up with how fast he was walking to the doors. He nodded at the bodyguard, the brute just waving him in before you mumbled something stupid about being with him before you trailed after him inside.
Sukuna ordered two beers, the cheapest drinks on the menu like he didn’t think you could afford more on your salary. He wasn’t wrong.
He rarely was.
You’d been working at your family’s bookshop most of your life. Managing the finances, stocking the shelves, working the cash register. Whatever was needed whenever it was needed. No questions asked. But your mind drifted, dreamed of doing something different – where you weren’t sleeping in a tiny studio apartment you could barely afford and got to express yourself outside of the stupid chalk signs you drew on to advertise on the sidewalk.
“Are you still all prissy because I said-”
“No,” you interrupted him, even though you knew he hated that. You sipped the awful beer, nose scrunching as you pressed your lips together and forced yourself to swallow.
“Good,” he grunted. “Don’t need that shit today.”
You didn’t reply to that. Stared ahead at the bottles of liquor lined up on the wall, the distorted mirrors behind them as you listened to the heavy music thumping behind you.
“First client was fuckin’ awful, didn’t even tip after I spent-” Sukuna was still talking, grumbling under his breath between swigs of his own beer. You weren’t paying that much attention though. Picking apart what you could make of yourself in those stretched-out mirrors, wondering if you’d really only be Jin’s friend to him. Someone annoying he could boss around, that he barely tolerated.
How much time were you wasting waiting for him to wake up and notice you were a girl? That you liked him?
“God, I need to get laid,” he continued, and your head swiveled over to him, brows knitting together as it hit you what he said.
He noticed, chuckling at whatever expression you were making before slamming his now-empty beer down.
“What? Are you, like, a prude?” Sukuna asked, and you flinched, flustered as your mouth fell open.
“N-no, I’m not,” you defensively said, heat crawling inside your skin, uselessly shaking your head just for him to laugh at you.
“C’mon,” Sukuna snickered, rolling your eyes. “I’ve known you, what? Like a decade? And you’ve never had a boyfriend?”
“I’ve had boyfriends,” you muttered, wishing you could drown yourself in your beer when you forced yourself to take another drawn-out sip.
Several of them. Some longer than others.
But they all came to the same conclusion you had a long time ago.
They weren’t the guy you wanted. And the one you did couldn’t care less about you.
“Sure,” he shrugged, all gruff and gravelly, waving over the bartender to get another beer. “Whatever you say.”
“You don’t believe me,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself, and all you got was another bob of his shoulders.
“It’s not my business.” Which really just meant he didn’t give a shit.
You could probably pick a random guy from the dancefloor and drag him back home with you and he wouldn’t blink.
Instead of a beer, the bartender pushed a stein of something strong to him, nodding down the bar to a pretty girl who was already looking at him, glossy lips curling up when his head turned in her direction. “On her.”
Sukuna smirked, and you wondered if he’d be leaving with her tonight.
“Someone’s got you beat,” he commented, glancing back over to her with a glint of interest in his eyes. It was a joke, you guessed. But you didn’t laugh.
Just felt it sit in the bottom of your stomach like a goddamn boulder.
She had his attention, and she barely had to try.
You pulled out your purse, scrounging together enough crumpled cash to cover the bill before tossing it on the bartop, swinging your legs off to stand.
“You’re mad at me,” he huffed, and you wanted him to stop you. Some sad little shriveled part of your brain desperate for him to do something to show you were more than just – well, whatever it was he saw you as.
“I’m not,” you insisted, even though a hot lump had formed in your throat, lungs constricting as you became acutely aware of how little air you could suck in.
He frowned for a second, but he didn’t say anything.
Didn’t reach out.
“Gotta get up early tomorrow,” you excused, even though he didn't ask.
For the first time in forever, you didn't look back when you left. And when you got home, you blocked his number after deleting the message chain that was mostly you sending him stupid shit he probably only ever skimmed over.
Removed the temptation entirely to text him now, tried to call and clip the image of him from the corners of your heart when you curled back up in your bed.
It wasn't like it was easy. But the humiliation of wanting someone like him had sliced too deep this time, embarrassment etching into your fingers every time you attempted to draw and thought back to his reaction. His rejection.
So you did the only thing you could do.
Move on.
Focus on your job, your meager social life, although you made Jin come over to your apartment when he wanted to hang out purely out of fear you'd bump into Sukuna’s at his place.
Two weeks passed, then three, killing time while you scrubbed the ghost of him from your mind.
Today hadn't been much different.
Stuck with another hour left at an exhausting shift, feet aching as you shifted behind the counter, a pen in hand as you attempted to sketch something on the back of a sticky note. A few animals, a couple of fish, thin lines and unsure strokes as you questioned what was even the point any more.
“Whatcha doodlin’?” A cheeky voice distracted you, snatching the crumpled paper from underneath your palm before you could stop him. You knew who it belonged to before you saw him.
The white-haired menace who only showed up for the sweets in the adjoining bakery, chocolate usually smeared in the corner of his mouth when he pretended to browse books. Although he'd always find some excuse to come chat with you, sometimes bringing around his friends who would buy stuff.
“It's nothing-” You started, straining over the counter to yank it back, but he was too fast.
Gojo held it over your head, squinting at the lines you etched into it and tilting his head to the side with faint surprise.
“These are cute,” he smiled, pointing at the little koi fish at the bottom.
“You don't have to lie to me,” you frowned back at him, getting just close enough to grab it. You rolled it into a ball, throwing it away in the trash can under the counter. “It's nothing.”
“I meant it,” he grinned, propping himself up on his elbows and getting on your eye level. “Don't believe me?”
Gojo was full of shit.
You hadn't known him as long as Sukuna or Jin – but you still knew him well enough to know he liked to flirt and fawn, none of it worth anything when he was like that with everyone. He was more of a mutual friend than just a friend, but boundaries were more like suggestions he preferred to ignore, physical, emotional, every flavor of rule he rejected.
“Not really,” you muttered, glancing down at both his rather huge hands. All pale and veiny, long fingers that weren't holding anything. “No treat today?”
“Want something a little sweeter tonight,” he hummed, and you stared blankly at him.
“Like what?” You deadpanned.
“A date with you.”
You blinked. But he didn't budge, waiting for an answer.
“Like, a date date?” It made you feel like a moron to ask, halfway thinking he'd laugh at you even when he brought it up.
“Duh,” he chuckled. “What time do you get off?”
“Um, an hour, but-” You started, and since it wasn't a no, he was already smiling like it was a yes.
“Or we could do dinner tomorrow if it's better, y’know, whatever's good with you is great with-’
“Tomorrow,” you answered, surprising yourself a little bit at how quickly you said it. Gojo was cute, even if he wasn't exactly the type you usually went for – i.e. tattooed men with commitment issues. He probably had a big dick if it was even half the size of his attitude.
It might not go anywhere, but didn’t you deserve a single night without him on your mind?
Sukuna could sleep around.
So why couldn't you?
Something was fucking wrong with him.
Sukuna’s life had been oddly quiet lately.
Something was different, missing, maybe– but he hadn't quite figured out what. Just that the world had been duller. The days dragged on longer, nights bleeding into morning in broken fits of sleep.
He'd never exactly been a man of emotions. Most of them he rejected entirely. But there was a pervading feeling that he could only describe as bad. One that refused to go away no matter how much he tried to drown it in alcohol or nicotine.
He hated half of his clients. Couldn't stand the bright city lights or boring chatter people constantly tried dragging him into. His old favorite songs sounded more like static and background noise, grating on his nerves when he turned it on to focus on new designs.
But despising the universe wasn't anything new to Sukuna.
Loathing his life was typical.
But this slimy pit in his stomach, balled up too tight to dislodge, stuck there and festering, that was something he wasn't used to.
It wasn't until he went to Jin’s to talk shit about his latest awful day that he figured out what it was.
Guilt.
Jin was alone, watching some boring movie on his couch, feet propped up on his coffee table without even sparing him a glance as he went straight to his fridge to find a cold drink. He glared at the healthy foods, fruits and meats neatly organized inside – only a couple sparkling waters in the back. He begrudgingly grabbed one, cracking it open and looking back to the living room just to freeze.
He stared at the empty spot next to Jin for a few seconds, struggling to conceive why he was looking at the couch like an idiot until it hit him why.
You weren't there.
“Where's your friend?” He gruffly asked, bringing the drink to his lips to sip.
“On a date,” Jin casually said, and he choked.
Drink dripped down his mouth and onto his shirt, wiping it away with the back of his hand as he cleared his throat.
“Her?” You?
It was inconceivable.
The girl who could barely even look him in the eye half the time? Who stuttered and stammered and could hardly get through a single sentence without getting flustered?
Honestly, Sukuna figured you were probably a virgin and too shy to admit it. It wasn’t like you weren’t attractive, but you’d always been off-limits.
Besides, there were always tons of other women out there – why would he stoop so low as to sleep with one of Jin’s friends?
“With Gojo,” his brother added, tossing a piece of popcorn in his mouth, completely oblivious to the way he froze behind him.
Did Jin just not give a fucking shit about you? Was he seriously letting you go out with that prick?
Gojo’s reputation was almost worse than his.
But just because he took girls on dates before he fucked and fled, he was somehow better.
At least he didn’t pretend he wanted a relationship just to get someone in the sheets. At least he didn’t lead them on and let them think they were something more.
“And you just fuckin’-” He clamped his lips shut right as Jin threw a confused look over his shoulder at him.
“What?” He asked, all confused, like he couldn’t fucking perceive the very apparant problem.
“That guy’s an asshole,” he protested.
Jin didn’t say it, but the look on his face made it obvious that he thought Sukuna was one too.
“Where’s the date at?” He grumbled, arms folding tight across his chest as he tapped on Jin’s fake wood flooring.
You weren’t his friend.
So why the fuck was he walking into some upscale restaurant on the nice side of town, fixing the collar of his jacket, ignoring the stares sticking to him.
“Sir?” A hostess tried talking to him, but he waved her off, already scowling.
“I need a drink,” he dryly said.
Preferably a strong one.
He beelined over to the bar, reluctantly ordering a ridiculously expensive whiskey in his best attempt to blend in before scanning the dining room for any sign of you.
He spotted you almost immediately. Sitting in one of those back booths, probably one Gojo told you would be more private – even though you were really just on display for the rest of the restaurant.
You dressed up. For him.
Sukuna didn’t know why it surprised him so much, dumbly staring at the sight of you in a short dress, the kind that clung to your thighs and your chest, too much cleavage showing. Too much skin showing period. Elbows on the table as you leaned in to listen to Gojo ramble on, who was surely too focused on the sound of his own voice to pay attention to how good you looked tonight.
He shook the thought from his head. Strangled it, actually, tried to twist it into nothing. Glad he didn't have any utensils to gouge his eyes out so he couldn't consider the cute tilt of your head or how glossy your lips looked when you chewed on your bottom one nervously.
Why the fuck were you here?
You weren't a moron. You knew better than to buy a guy like Gojo’s bullshit.
His last conversation with you came back up, floating from the depths of his brain in bits and pieces, his own words echoing. Was it because he commented on your lack of a love life? Asked if you were a prude?
Did you just go to the biggest manwhore (other than him) that you could find?
If you wanted to get laid, you could've just asked-
No, no. That was wrong, Sukuna reminded himself, blinking hard like it would change what he was seeing. You smiled at Gojo, mouth moving as you said something that made him chuckle and lean forward, reaching over the table to grab your hand like you were a couple. His thumb tracing down your knuckles, drawing little shapes on your skin that obviously made you giddy.
Sukuna wasn't jealous.
He'd never been jealous before. Over anyone.
He was, uh, just doing what Jin should've been doing. As your friend. Even if every giggle and grin of yours made him feel physically fucking ill as he watched and waited for the moment to intervene.
It wasn't like he could just let this happen.
Leg bouncing anxiously until Gojo got up, counting to thirty in his head before he followed him to the bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t noticed him. But you were glancing down at the table, tracing over the scratches on it, your face soft, almost serene. Pretty.
He kept walking, picking up the pace to catch up to Gojo, wondering how hard he’d have to deck him to make sure he’d stay down long enough for him to block off the bathroom door to prevent him from leaving. The staff would probably notice after a couple minutes – sooner if someone else tried to use it.
He didn’t have a real plan, his brain jumping from idea to idea too fast to let him land on one.
If he was less impulsive, more in control of the monster twisting around inside of him, maybe he would have considered having a conversation with Gojo. Threatening, sure, but mature enough to make it clear that you were not a girl he could screw and scram from.
Instead?
He was scanning the stalls in front of him to make sure no one else would overhear, noting that they opened out instead of in. Only spotting Gojo’s ridiculously shiny loafers, listening to him yap on the phone with one of the other pricks he chose to surround himself with.
“I know, I’ve gotta go, she’s waiting for me,” he was chuckling, his casual confidence already grating down his resolve not to dunk his head in the toilet. He laughed again at whoever was on the other line. “Shut up, you know I’ve been trying to get in her panties for months.”
Anger didn’t suffice.
Couldn’t cover the heat warping his judgment, boiling into something he couldn’t control at the idea of that white-haired fucker slinking around and searching for a way inside of you.
His body was moving on autopilot, banging hard on the stall door, fingers clenching into a fist right just in time for Gojo to hang up the phone and yank it open, his annoyingly bright blue eyes narrowing in an appalled squint at him.
“What the-”
His punch connected. Busting open his bottom lip, bruising Sukuna’s knuckles too as Gojo’s head snapped to the side. He groaned, stumbling and losing his footing, probably slipping in his own piss from his surely shoddy aim.
“The hell is your problem, dickhead?” Gojo grunted, pushing off the toilet seat, palm pressing on the stall as he struggled to stand up straight.
It was easy to push him back down, just another rough punch that he hoped fucking hurt.
But recognition was now glittering across the bloody face beneath him, amusement dancing in his dark stare as Gojo let out a low laugh.
“You’re here for her?” He said it like it was some joke Sukuna wasn’t in on. Or maybe he was just the butt of it.
“You’re not getting in her panties,” Sukuna repeated in a hateful hiss, more repulsed by the word when it was on his own tongue. “So stay the fuck away from her.”
His eyes flickered from the white-haired fraud in front of him to the toilet, considering it.
“Maybe.”
He saw the second it registered for him that it wasn’t just a threat. Then Sukuna leaned down, grabbing his phone from where it had hit the ground during his first hit.
“Wait-”
He tossed his phone in the water instead.
Sukuna kicked him while he was down, hard enough he heard a rib crack before he stepped back, slamming the stall door shut and looking around at what he had at his disposal. Dragging over a ridiculously heavy trash can from the corner, one of the obnoxiously designed ones that was supposed to be art as if people weren’t just tossing trash in it. He shoved it against the stall while Gojo groaned again inside.
He’d be able to get out, if he crawled under or climbed over the stall, or summoned the strength to shove it out of the way. But it’d delay him for a while. Enough that Sukuna was able to look back out of the bathroom, getting lucky enough to see one of the staff heading into a supply closet down the hall, marked employees only.
“You asshole,” Gojo snarled, voice muffled, strained from the pain of a probably broken rib.
But it was too late.
He was sneaking out and into the closet once it was empty, snagging an ‘out of order’ sign from a shelf before he put it back up on the bathroom door when no one was looking.
Sukuna wasn’t really one for fate, didn’t hold any believe in some higher power pulling his strings, but he could admit that it seemed like the universe was colluding with him when he caught the attention of some overworked waitress and casually commenting that they should probably block off the men’s bathroom if there was something wrong with it, pointing to the sign.
It had taken ten minutes, maybe fifteen, walking back to your table with a smirk twitching up in his lips at the thought of how long it would take Gojo to pull himself off of the floor and figure out how to leave. Especially now that he managed to get someone to move a bunch of those huge ceramic fake-potted plants in front of it to stop it from opening – and no one would hear him requesting help through the thick walls and the bland dining music still loudly thumping through the speakers.
He had won.
A little voice in the back of his brain said, for now, added addendums to his meager victory. Marked it down with the reminder that you might not be thrilled to see him after you left the last time you were together.
You were still staring at the table when you came back into view, but your nose was scrunched up, lips pressed together tightly. Aware that it was taking too long for your date to come back, fear starting to seep in that you’d been ditched.
And then you saw him.
For half a second, just a brief moment he almost missed, you smiled, relaxing reflectively before you suddenly went stiff again. Forcing a frown and tucking some hair behind your ear self-consciously, defensively.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, all wide-eyed, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Pulling the hem of your dress down like he hadn’t seen how high it’d been earlier.
“Saw you on a date with that loser,” he muttered, begrudgingly glancing around like he didn’t know where he was. “Did he leave?”
You swallowed, squirming as you shrugged.
“He said he was going to the bathroom,” you muttered, fishing your phone from your purse to check the time, or maybe send Gojo a message. Sukuna could see the way disappointment snuck up in your face, how it crept into the corners no matter how hard, how desperately you were trying to hide it.
There was an awkward pause, tense and heavy as he tried to figure out how to say what he wanted to.
“You wanna get out of here?” He gruffly suggested, pulling his wallet from his pocket and tossing down some cash on the table. Enough to cover your half – even though there was only an appetizer out.
You hesitated, your eyes finally flickering up to him.
Your stare was as soft as it had always been, but it was like he was seeing your face for the first time, the air in his lungs sucked out like he’d been knocked flat on his back.
Reassessing every little line, realizing that you weren’t just pretty, or cute, but beautiful. Lashes fluttering, canines chewing on your bottom lip as you looked back in the direction of the bathroom one last time.
You’d been there for so long. Lingering in the background and by his side. And he’d been completely goddamn blind.
“I’ll buy you some real food,” he added, nodding towards the barely-touched plate of pretentious-plattered blobs of food with herbs thrown on top.
“Fine.”
You weren’t that happy in the passenger seat of his car, riding shotgun, knees pointed away from him while you leaned against the cool window. He turned up the heat, the lump in the back of his throat bobbing watching you shiver and curl up inside yourself.
He couldn’t remember if you’d ever been in his car like this before. A couple years ago, he’d been stuck in the backseat with you in Jin’s sedan, crammed against the window while you were stuck in the middle, but back then, he’d been too distracted arguing with Kaori in the front seat to notice the weight of your thigh against his.
Now he couldn’t stop himself from wishing he paid more fucking attention.
Eyes flitting over to your form, throat going dry at the sight of your still-plush thighs so out of his reach.
“Why him?” He grunted when he pulled up to a stop light, fingers tapping his steering wheel, molars grinding as he stole another glimpse at you.
You shrugged, just a little raise of your shoulders while you sighed.
“He said he wanted to go on a date with me,” you murmured, refusing to look back at him. “Guess he changed his mind.”
“He’s a moron,” Sukuna half-snarled, cringing when he realized how it came out.
A flash of hurt crossed your face, as he felt the fear of fumbling this chance with you rear back up.
“For changing his mind,” he clarified, omitting the tiny detail that you’d be back on your date discussing Gojo’s salary or how big his cock was if he hadn’t intervened. “Not for-”
“Don’t,” you mumbled. Stopping him before he could say what he meant.
“Look, I’ve been a dick,” he started, discomfort churning in his stomach having to apologize for anything in his life.
“When aren’t you?” You muttered under your breath, swallowing hard as you continued to avoid looking straight at him. Just scanning over the road, glancing out the window or down at the floorboards, anywhere that wasn’t him.
He let out a disappointed huff, brow twitching.
“The last time we talked, I was a fucking asshole,” he added, gravelly and gruff, even when he was trying to sound sincere. “You didn’t deserve that shit.”
You turned to face him fully, but the light turned green, and he couldn’t see what face you were making as his foot shifted back to the gas pedal. He could make out your mouth starting to open in the edges of his vision, but he forced himself to continue.
“I’m sorry.”
You made a small noise that sounded like a squeak – and he was pretty sure his heart stopped. Something small but fierce sprouting in the deepest crevices of his chest, all his organs constricting as he struggled not to react with a noise of his own.
“You’re sorry?” You repeated, as if an apology was totally absurd.
“Yeah,” he soberly said, knuckles tightening across the steering wheel, barely able to keep his eyes on the road instead of studying your reaction.
“For what?” You asked, and it felt like a test.
One he was embarrassingly desperate to ace.
All of it?
Dismissing you and distancing himself the same way he always did? Convincing himself that all you would ever be was Jin’s friend?
“For not seeing you,” he said under his breath, the answer landing in the air.
You hesitated, pausing before you nodded.
He didn't know if he got it right.
But you relaxed over his version of dinner. Trading in your fancy appetizer for fast food, intently watching you dip your fries in sauce as you listened to him grumble about how shitty everything had been lately, begrudgingly admitting that he missed you coming around to his shop.
You casually shrugged, as if you didn't miss him back.
“Been busy,” you hummed, and he hated how the little curl of your lips after you said it made his stupid heart stall.
Somehow though, you were still free tonight.
Enough that by your fourth or fifth yawn, he talked you back into watching a movie at his place.
Jin would probably kill him if he knew. But then again, he hadn't stopped you from seeing Gojo. So how much could he actually care?
It wasn't like he was fucking you.
Even if he was beginning to consider just how much he'd like to.
But it felt almost more intimate for you to be this close, your thigh not quite touching his, knees curled up against your chest while you shared a blanket with him. Grabbing popcorn from the bowl on his lap and cracking jokes he might've called lame a few months ago before rolling your eyes at whatever was happening on screen.
“This movie kinda sucks,” you whispered to him, as if you were in a theater instead of his apartment.
Speaking to him like a friend, giggling a little as one of your buttered fingers reached up to poke the crease between his brows.
Were you always this fun?
This pretty when your the shadows from the tv flickered across your face? Did your eyes usually glimmer like that, looking up at him like he was some kind of knight instead of just another dickhead?
“Want me to change it?” He grumbled, already about to grab the remote before you shook your head.
“I still want to see how it ends,” you half-whispered, and the softness to your voice did something treacherous to the pit of his stomach. Ripped open a gash, pried him apart until all he could think of was how hollow he felt. Hyper aware of a missing piece he was pretty sure was right in front of him.
He wanted to see how this would end too.
If you were another girl, he would've made a move. Slipped a hand underneath the blanket and ran it over your thigh, leaned in to trail hungry kisses down your throat. A means to an end – all to get his dick wet.
But he wrapped his arm around your shoulders instead, pretended he didn't see the suspicious little glance you tossed his way. Satisfied himself just with the fact you didn't shove him away.
You didn't get to see the end of the movie after all. Lulled to sleep with the pressure of his arm or the quiet comfort of the dim lights and low volume. Head tilted to the side at an uncomfortable angle as you dozed off and dreamed about – well, he didn't know what, but he hoped it was about him.
He waited until the credits were rolling to creep off the couch, readjusting you until you were resting on one of his pillows instead, pulling up the blanket so you were covered.
Sukuna paused, just staring for a moment before he picked you up, cradling you against his chest and carrying you back to his bedroom where you'd be more comfortable.
You didn't wake up. Not even when he walked over to where you left your stuff by his kitchen counter. Or when Sukuna slipped your phone out from your purse, coming back to unlock it with your thumb while you were still passed out. Scrolling through your recent slew of texts to find where Gojo was basically throwing himself at you and clicking on his contact. There was a message from an unknown number too, a huge paragraph that Sukuna didn't need to read to know was from him too, pointing fingers and directing the blame for tonight right his way.
Blocking Gojo was easy.
Getting him to stay away from you?
Well, it wasn’t that much harder.
You softened up around him the next morning when you woke up and realized he'd taken the couch, nudging him awake to thank him before ditching like a one-night-stand would. But you were smiling again when you saw him, saying yes when he offered to pick you up and drop you off at work. Beaming when he admitted your drawings were never actually bad and asked to see them again. Letting him occupy your free time by slyly suggesting you come to his shop or his place for extra lessons and tips, a new weekly occurrence he caught himself thinking of as dates as one month bled into the next.
It wasn't like Gojo could slip back in your life if you were too busy.
And he couldn't visit you at work when Sukuna had made sure your family was aware of your, ah, stalker, and suggested they get a guard – claiming it would deter shoplifters too.
If you were suspicious, you didn’t say anything.
“So what, are you like, in love with her or-” Jin stopped himself mid-scoff, staring at Sukuna from across the counter, propping himself up on his elbows as he blankly stared at his brother. “You are.”
“No, I’m not,” he grumbled, counting the cash left in his register as the sun set behind the trees outside. You had said so yourself. Called him a good friend for showing you proper shading on your last piece, before tucking a sketchbook underneath your arm and disappearing through his door to go back to your place.
Despite his best efforts, you were still keeping him at arm’s length.
And through all his attempts at shutting down his own feelings, they only seemed to burn brighter, the flames fanned by the realization you were more than he had ever given you credit for. Far more than he fucking deserved.
Your awkwardness had become endearing. You were attentive and attractive and it was awful how many other things had only now started to register and rob him of his breath when you were around.
“Don’t even think about making a move on-”
The bell on the door chimed, and you were stepping through before Jin could say your name.
Your eyes landed on Sukuna, soft and sparkling, a lit match thrown inside his chest as your mouth curled up in a pretty smile. His brother knew him better than he knew himself.
Sukuna was falling for you fast. And he wasn’t sure he could catch himself anymore.
“If you guys have plans, I can-”
He didn’t let you finish.
“Jin was just leaving,” Sukuna grunted, glaring at his brother like he’d toss him out if he didn’t go soon.
You didn’t really get it. Couldn’t fully comprehend his sudden shift into being a semi-decent guy. You kept waiting for him to go back to normal, to push you back into the sidelines where you always belonged.
But he didn’t.
Week after week, he just seemed to worm his way deeper into your life, trying to occupy as much of it as he could. What? Did he have some weird change-of-heart and decide he didn’t want to be a dick?
Or were all those lingering touches and drawn-out stares just a figment of your imagination?
You glanced up at him again, mouth twitching into a smile you couldn’t help when you caught him already zeroed in on your face.
Jin let out a low exhale, but you didn't even turn.
“Don't make me an uncle,” he muttered, quiet enough you almost didn't hear him on his way out. Once it registered though, your nose scrunched up, now fully twisting towards him, ears perked like you were expecting Sukuna to scoff and say how ridiculous that was.
“Get out,” he grumbled.
You watched both of them, unsure eyes flickering back and forth until Jin left through the frosted glass doors.
Sukuna sighed, shutting the cash register a little too hard, his cheeks almost tinted pink under the warm lights, aware you were studying him and still not offering some snarky retort back.
“Surprised you didn't throw something at him,” you commented. This was it.
The moment he'd make it clear how he saw you and remind you of where you were meant to be in this weird relationship.
Except – he shrugged.
As if Jin wasn't in the wrong for suggesting there was something going on between the two of you.
“Are you really surprised?” He muttered, and you could only blink.
Holding your breath so he didn't catch how instinctively it hitched, frozen in place as your fingers fidgeted around your sketchbook.
And then Sukuna stepped closer, cocking his head to the side as he assessed your stunned expression.
“I like you,” he abruptly admitted, like he had to drag it from the depths of his stomach. Begrudgingly chewing over his next works as he walked right up to you, stopping just shy of touching before he plucked the book from your hands. “A lot.”
You waited for him to rip the rug out from under your feet and reveal that he didn’t actually mean any of it.
“Sukuna,” you started, swallowing hard like it would make it any easier to choke down.
How long had you been dying for him to say something like that? Dreaming of this moment right here?
And the best you could offer was his name?
“You don't believe me,” he accused, and all you could think of was being back at the bar, when those words came from your own lips.
He had said it wasn't his business then.
But what had made him decide you were now?
Was it just the idea of you slipping away? Becoming someone else’s? Faced with the fact you weren't who he thought you were when he saw you on that dumb date?
“Should I?” You asked.
“What can I do to prove it to you?” He frowned, thick brows scrunched together.
“I don't know,” you honestly answered.
And you didn't really expect him to try to find an answer for you.
It started small. Sort of. Awkward compliments he grumbled under his breath. Soda cans and snacks waiting for you when you came over. His fingers skimming over your skin, always standing a little too close.
But after a couple weeks of you squinting at him, convinced he was still just trying to have sex with you, something changed.
You just weren't sure which one of you cracked first.
Perched prettily on the stool behind his counter, drawing on spare paper as he cleaned up from his last client of the day, pretending you couldn't feel him staring.
“Hey,” he grunted, grabbing your attention easily as you glanced back at him.
“Hm?” You tilted your head, fingers pausing on the pen.
“You want a tattoo?”
He was a bad influence. You'd always known that. But his dark eyes dragged you right down to his level.
You couldn't believe you said yes.
Or that you agreed to a goddamn tramp stamp.
You readjusted, turning your head to the side, cheek squished against the cool leather as he tugged your shorts down.
Shivering as you tried to keep yourself from reacting, painfully aware of everything that he was doing.
Every step felt excruciatingly slow, each drag of his gloved fingers over the small of your spine as he cleaned and prepped it.
“Scared?” He grumbled, and you barely nodded.
“Kinda,” you breathlessly admitted.
“You change your mind?” He asked, and if you were smarter, maybe you would've told him to stop.
Instead, you shook your head no.
“Keep going.”
What was a better work of art?
You, face-down and shivering on his chair? Or the fresh ink on the base of your spine, permanently marking you as his?
The design was his, one you picked and approved, his initials worked into the fine lines.
R.S.
Maybe he should've pointed it out, but then again – you spent ten minutes reviewing the mock up and said you loved it.
And besides, he could always get your name on him too. Ask you to draw something just for him, sign it all pretty.
Make it even.
“You wanna take a look?” He softly asked, jaw locked as he tried to permanently imprint the image of you like this in his head.
“You can take a picture and show me,” you hummed, a cute little whine to your voice that made him unfortunately hard.
Sukuna was still working on his listening skills, pulling his phone from his pocket and obediently snapping a few, ah, artistic photos. Ones that included your pretty ass and how your panties were pulled low on them so he had the space to work on your tattoo.
It would be easier to walk around and show you, but instead he leaned forward, let his chest touch the top of your back as he held his phone in front of your face.
“Pretty,” you softly said, pleased.
“You're prettier,” he automatically replied, cringing when he remembered he was putting down his own work by accident.
But you just giggled, trying to crane your neck back to look at him.
“You did so good for me, gorgeous,” he murmured before you could mock him, purposely letting his mouth graze against your neck as you shivered. Shoulders scrunching up as you reflexively glanced up at you.
God, he wanted to fuck you right here.
And the way you were looking at him right now?
He'd wager you would let him.
“Do I have to pay for it?” You whispered, and he grunted.
“I don't want your money,” he scoffed.
He wanted something else.
And after so fucking long, he was finally about to have it.
Sukuna hooked two fingers in the band of your panties, tugging them down hard and letting them get caught around your knees. Pausing, waiting for you to tell him to stop just to be met with silence as he readjusted, moved to where he'd have better access.
Dragging his gloved hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and looking at how prettily you glistened for him. Soaked just from being in his seat.
He slowly took his gloves off, needing to feel you for real, skin on skin, truly touching instead of just skirting around it. Tracing over your ass, tender this time, taking his time to slip inside.
Your warmth was a fucking wonderland.
How many nights lately had he spent stroking it to the idea of this?
Hearing you moan was the closest he'd get to heaven, the sound reverberating inside of him as he added another digit, slowly shoving them in deeper, scissoring you open as your slick dripped down into the leather.
“Gotta stretch you out,” he hissed, throat constricting when you clenched down around him. “Make sure it'll fit.”
“Y-you're so cocky,” you whined, your lip forming a cute little ‘o’ as your cheek smushed against the seat. Moving in time with the thrusts of his fingers, wiggling down to meet his knuckles.
“Gonna show you why,” Sukuna promised, just to feel the way you shifted and squirmed underneath him.
It was addicting. You were.
All your reactions, all those pretty faces you would make, everything about you left him craving more, more, more.
His cock was leaking, aching pathetically where it was constrained in his boxers. Pre-cum dribbling out and making him aware of the dampness as he reluctantly pulled out to tug the zipper of his jeans down next, his dick springing up the second it was freed.
Your eyes went wide, glancing back at him with an expression that made his cock twitch. Veins pulsing Z he tried to contain his impulse just to shove it all the way in.
“I'll be careful,” he grunted, and you just nodded.
You trusted him.
And the thought of that made that little invisible string inside him snap.
Careful.
He repeated the word in his head, leaned against it like a crutch he could actually rely on. Shoving your shirt up higher, knowing he should probably fish a condom from his wallet for this, but unable to do anything except stare.
“I thought you liked me,” you murmured, hips shifting like you were trying to snare him even more.
“I do,” he breathed.
“Then show me.”
He was seeing fucking stars the second his cock was inside you. Eyes rolling back as inch by inch of his girth sunk into your heat, how you fit even better than his gloves did, snug and tight as he drove in deeper. Groaning your name, grabbing your hair, trying to tether himself to your body.
His sanity tied to the sounds you were making, those cute whimpers as he rammed his hips down into your ass, careful not to press down on your new tattoo.
“My pretty girl,” he claimed, gritty possession in his voice he no longer cared if you picked up on. So what if you did? You were his now. Not a fling or a fuck. Forever. “You're so goddamn perfect.”
“S-shut up,” you hissed back, nails digging into the chair as your grip on your own rationality slipped.
You didn't need reason anymore.
You had him.
“You like me,” he accused, cock throbbing inside you when you whined at his tip kissing your cervix.
“I-I-” You stuttered, so painfully pretty here. Sweat collecting on your brow, broken breathing loud in the quiet space, only the background music of his playlist joining it.
“You do,” Sukuna huffed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade.
Maybe he'd leave another tattoo there some day. His teeth marks? Some other subtle sign to mark you as his?
“M-maybe,” you half-whispered.
And that was enough for him.
Fucking into you harder, the chair beneath both of you creaking and protesting at the combined weight, his muscles straining as his thick cock continued to stretch you thin around him. His free hand slipped around your front, your body squirming at his touch, shuddering so sweetly. Rubbing drawn-out circles over your clit, massaging it with dedicated pressure, paying attention to how you liked it and adjusting properly.
Sukuna wanted to drag his tongue over your throat, taste your sweat and tears as you whimpered his name.
But he'd settle for feeling you twitch when you came, how your thighs trembled and shook, his hips rutting down as warm ropes of his cum spilled out into you.
You'd be dripping by the time he pulled out, but he kept you plugged full of his cum even when you were both finished, relief still some far-fetched dream when his body was burning so hot for you.
“Did you-” You swallowed hard, lashes fluttering as you looked back at him.
“I can buy you plan B,” he exhaled, still not pulling out – halfway hoping his seed would take anyway.
“Okay,” you sighed too, shutting your eyes as your face relaxed. Just accepting it. Letting him hold you like this the same way you let him leave his mark on your skin.
“We can shower at my place,” he muttered. “Still have to cover up your new tattoo.”
“Oh,” you yawned, like the sex had made you sleepy. Content. “Okay.”
You blinked though, eyes slowly opening back up as you looked back at him one more time.
“You're acting like you're my boyfriend,” you commented.
“Because I am now,” he huffed.
One of your brows arched up, lips pressing together. But you didn't say no. Didn't turn him down.
Your hips shifted, and he saw the pearly-white cum starting to seep out from where his cock was slotted between your folds, connecting him to you.
It was probably wrong to hope you'd get pregnant.
But really, all he wanted was to take care of you now. And that couldn't be wrong.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ » RAFE MAKES YOU SQUIRT FOR THE FIRST TIME.
"jus' lay there baby, yeah?" rafe cooed, pounding into you from behind, his hand bracing you on the small of your back. "gonna make you take it."
rafes stroke game is award worthy. he's rocking his hips back and forth, hitting all the right angles. "mmmmph" you sob out into the pillow where your head was buried.
"i know baby, i know." he comforts you as he thrusts deeper. you drool into the pillow as he drills you. "you like that dick in your guts? hmm?" rafe asks.
theres not a single thought in your brain. you moan in response to his question. "fucking answer me." he grunts, slowing his thrusts, making them deeper, harder.
"love it s'much!" you squeak out. he resumes his punishing deep, fast strokes. each thrust punching the air out of your lungs.
"can tell. your fucking creaming round' my dick." rafe mutters. he desperately tries not to look at where you connect, knowing he'll cum from the sight of your pearlescent cream collecting at his base.
after one particularly deep thrust you feel his mushroom tip thump against your sweet spot, over and over again. "that the spot? your fuckin' suffocating my cock baby." you nod feverishly, nearing your orgasm.
"cum baby. fuckin' cum around my dick y'hear me?" he thrusts harder and faster. the room now being filled with the constant sounds of plap plap plap plap.
"ohhhh" you shake, your vision going white hot as your toes curl and you squirt around rafe. "ohh fuck, s'so wet. im gonna cum, gonna-" rafe moans loudly as he plants one of his feet up on the bed to get a better angle, fucking you both through your orgasms.
his thrusts slow, before coming to a complete halt. rafe groans when he pulls out of you, his softening cock still twitching. he spreads you open as he watches your mixed cum leak out of you.
"m'sorry." you mutter, voice groggy from all of the screaming you'd done. "fuck are you talkin' about?" he sighs, laying down next to you.
"i've never- done that before. i didn't mean to-" you stutter. "are you fucking with me? that shit made me cum my brains out." he laughs.
Your husband Satoru slams a hand to muffle your cries as he lifts you up and bends you right over the damn drying machine, running right along with the washer loud enough it quiets the filthy sound of your messy cunt on his fingers. He shoves aside your pajama shorts you've been cleaning in all day, moaning when he gets to rub his tip on it, pearly white cum sticking to your clit.
"Satoru, right n-now?" You hiss out the words, he chuckles in your ear and bends over you, clicking the lock shut for good measure, the two of you hiding from your two kids as he actively plans for another like the freaky little shit he is.
"Saw you bending over putting those pans away? Fuck, thought how good your hips would look in my hands," he moans and grips one, sinking his cock inside easily with how soaked you are, but it's a tight fit. "Oh fuck..."
"Can't keep quiet if y-you..." he slams his hand again on your mouth, shoving his nine inches all the way inside, tip drooling on your cervix. You whine out against his palm, eyes rolling back in your skull, the sounds of Bluey filtering in. "mmph!"
"They're busy, it's fine..." He fucks into you faster, whimpering quietly and pounding your pussy - he's not gonna last long with how needy and sensitive he is. "I wanna put another inside you, hah-"
You think to yourself he's insane, but when he starts whispering that filth in your ear you're about to shatter, every glide of his cock in your quivering walls ruining you.
"Mnh, you want it huh? Me pumping you full, mm?-" he bites down on your neck to muffle another whine, pressing you harder on the dryer as your legs just dangle - he's so damn tall it's the perfect height to bend you over. He's wrapping his arm around, hand gripping a tit and squishing. "I wanna see these full of milk - wanna suck it from them again... mm it's so sweet..."
A circle of his thumb and another pump inside has you falling apart, gushing down his length, he pulls his hand off your mouth to kiss you.
"Drooling on my cock and my mouth?" He taunts, the man who had just been giving your kids rides on his back now had damn near black eyes and a feral grin, shoving in deep and holding you there, watching your eyes damn near go cross, your tongue all little and pink hanging out. "Fuck you love my cum, don't you? Want me to breed you, baby?"
"Please," you know damn well you shouldn't have another yet, but - "Breed me, please."
Your whisper ends him - pumping you full and gasping out into your mouth, coating your walls white with his hot ropes, spurts catching your cute cervix that's already swollen from his mean tip. "Oh fuck... mmm, want four more kids... fuck..."
"I'll tie my tubes after three," he glares and you giggle, breathless. "One more!"
"Fuck that I'll untie them," you're gasping when he eases out, shoving his fingers deep to plug that cum up, before he hears your kids arguing and curses. "Four more."
"One more," He grins as he slips his fingers in your mouth, your cheeks hollowing, moaning at his taste. "Mmm, two then."
Satoru grins, fixing your clothes and then throwing your hair back into that ponytail. "Sure, sweetheart."
****
I'm ovulating STILL and god help everyone this week lmao
You're married to Satoru Gojo - an arrangement since your childhood, one you're so excited for. You soon find out - he wants nothing to do with you. Any one is preferable, from the waitress at your engagement party, to his secretary. Torn apart by insecurities and devastated by the fact that you can't make this one sided affection work, you decide to find something to keep you going until Gojo finds a way to end the marriage. That's what lands you right in the notorious boxing ring in town - led by Ryomen Sukuna, who finally sees you.
pairings - Nepo baby! Gojo x Reader x Boxer! Sukuna
warnings!!! - Heavy angst, cheating, Satoru starts off cruel and mean, reader starts off very shy/insecure, yandere Sukuna. This chap - OH BOY - Toxic, red flag Sukuna, he's obsessed, lighter angst but don't get fooled, a fuck ton of sexual tension, voyeurism, oral (f receiving) fingering, squirting, rough sex, possessive sukuna, yearning satoru, like yearning bad, reader is conflicted, unhealthy relationships, toxic dynamics, Sukuna not giving A FUCK, some violence, too many feelings, pining, finger sucking, creampie. yep that's it I think - 10.8k wc
it's MESSY - can't wait for the very distant future poly end hehe
part four- masterlist - playlist - part six
part five
𝕾𝖚𝖐𝖚𝖓𝖆
Ring ring ring.
Knock knock knock.
No answer.
Sukuna decides to beat on your parents door instead, grinning like a psycho when a butler finally answers, turning up their nose at him. Yeah, he’s used to that shit, even if Sukuna was wealthy, even if he was a whole nepo baby like Satoru himself, there was always disdain for the ‘failed son’ the ‘disgrace of society’.
Your dad – he thinks that’s who this is at least, he looked him up last night curiously – walks up to the front door now next to the distraught butler, scoffing. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“I came to pay ya a visit, pops,” he says mockingly, cracking his knuckles and watching your dad pale. “Heard ya like to hit little girls.”
“She’s an adult –”
“So you did hit her.”
“No!? What the – I will call the police!” Sukuna laughs now, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he thinks of beating the living fuck out of him.
“Call ‘em,” your mom comes rushing forward, gasping when Sukuna slams your dad to the ground, straddling him and yanking at his collar. She’s waving her arms all around like some frantic chicken.
“You can’t just come into our home – you’re so uncouth!”
“Uncouth is hitting your daughter, oh and marrying her to a dick.”
“Satoru Gojo is better than she could ever do!” Sukuna snorts at that, pressing his forearm down on the prissy man’s throat. “Get off my husband this instant!”
“I’m not scared to hit you too,” she gasps and backs away. “I’m here for him though.”
“Speak your business and leave,” your father has clear fear in his eyes, Sukuna grins wide. “We know your type.”
“You don’t know shit about me.”
“Some friend,” your mother scoffs out those words.
“I am her friend, that’s why I’m here, to teach you both a lesson about hitting your damn daughter. Lesson one.”
Sukuna lifts his tattooed fist, his knuckles white when how tightly they’re clenched, and brings it down hard onto your father's jaw with a sickening crack that echoes. It’s like music to his fucking ears, Sukuna can’t help but grin as your dad’s head snaps back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“Not a little girl, am I Pops,” he’s coughing, Sukuna doesn't stop, either – he knows he should. He intended one hit, but to think again about that split lip and black eye of yours? No.
He lands another punch, this one to the other side of your father's face, grinding his knuckles into the man's cheekbone until it damn near shatters – a little more force and it would. Yet Sukuna knows you’ll be upset about this altogether, the last thing he wants to do is have you more upset.
"Did that hurt?" Sukuna asks, his voice dangerously calm, a smirk on his face spreading. "Shouldn’t you ‘know your fucking place’."
Your mother screams when Sukuna stands and brushes his hands along his shoulders, knuckles bloody from the contact. Your mother is rushing to her husband's side, cradling his bleeding face and glaring up at Sukuna.
"You monster! You brute! How dare you!"
Sukuna looks at her, then at your father, who is groaning on the floor, clutching his jaw, before leaning down, hands on his thighs. “Ya gonna lay your hand on your daughter again?”
“You have no right to speak-”
“No,” she stares at her husband in shock. “I won’t, fuck.”
“Pussy too,” Sukuna snorts, standing straight and jerking toward the butler just to make him piss himself, laughing even louder. “Leave your daughter the fuck alone, both of you, or I won’t be so ‘cordial’.”
“Well I never!”
“Now you have.”
Sukuna walks out – not in handcuffs surprisingly, seems your parents at least weren’t snitches, but then frowns as soon as he sees your text.
You - Where are you?
Shit, you were gonna be real mad.
****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
You’re reading Satoru’s texts and your heart hammers in your chest, a girl who was hopelessly in love just in a month has grown feelings for another. You feel so much for Sukuna, so deeply, yet something about Satoru’s desperate texts are tugging at your fucking heart.
You’re dripping Sukuna’s cum, littered in bruises from his grip, from where he’d fucked you senseless into that bed. You’ve never felt like this, your thighs trembling, your heart split in half, from the odd guilt you feel and the euphoria in equal measures. You know Satoru’s done worse – right in front of you at that, yet it didn’t somehow free you from your thoughts.
Sukuna wasn’t there when you woke up, a stranger in his penthouse.
You sigh and call Satoru, who surprisingly picks up fast.
“Are you all right?”
“You care?” You can’t help but say it harshly, sighing and shutting your eyes then. “I am fine, Gojo. Promise.”
“Well considering you didn’t write me once and… you saw my…”
“I saw them,” you lean back on the couch, toying with the edge of the big shirt Sukuna threw on you. “I was busy.”
“Busy, hah,” he laughs without humor over the phone. “Busy getting fucked by your psycho boxing instructor?”
“Yeah,” Satoru pauses, and your eyes shut, cursing internally. “I was getting fucked by him.”
“So you… you’re not…”
“A virgin, no. Guess you can’t use that insult – you could use whore now though, if you feel like it,” he says nothing instead. “You have no right to be upset.”
“Yeah I fucking know,” he laughs again, a harsh sound in your ear. “Okay so you fuck someone, does he at least make you cum?”
“Why would you care? As if you’d have done anything for me if we were together. Should thank you for not, by the way.”
“You don’t know what I’d do, haven’t you heard those girls cum?”
“Yes I have, your welcome for fucking somewhere other than your house where you can hear.”
“Right,” he sighs now, a loud sound. “Have fun?”
“I did actually,” you swallow down the guilt – he doesn’t deserve your guilty feelings, your hurt heart. “So she’s not there?”
“No, and I didn’t invite her either yesterday.”
“Didn’t tell her to go, did you?”
“I… are you coming home today?”
“Sometime, yeah, I know we have the event tonight but how am I going to cover this bruise up?”
“I can have someone come professionally cover it, I offered you a makeup artist before if you remember.”
“I guess that’ll work…” You trail off again, taking a breath. “You said you wanted me to come home.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I just… it was as if we… I wanted…”
You pause and try to let him speak, wishing you didn’t care, wishing your heart wasn’t aching – for what?
“Just come home.”
“You let me know it’s your home Gojo – I don’t have a home.”
Your tears slip through before you can think to stop them, the fact smacking you sharp in the face, you’re so happy to be with Sukuna, to be in his home, but it’s not yours. Perhaps the boxing ring is the closest thing you have to feeling that way, that felt homey for you to come to, even the home you grew up in didn’t feel that way, nor your apartment you had for a few years.
“Can me and you just fucking talk? Without him?”
“We’ve had time to talk,” you swallow nervously. “I’m feeling a bit of happiness, will you just let me, if you don’t completely hate me?”
“Just come home soon, okay?” He hangs up, leaving you as fucking confused as you’ve ever been, looking at the phone when it rings.
But this is from your mother.
“Hello?”
“You had the man you’re cheating on Gojo with beat up your father!?”
“What?”
“I know it was you who sent him, you dumb little whore!”
“I don’t know–” She’s screaming the worst things at you, making you start to feel sick. “Stop yelling please.”
“What a fucking discgrace, first you have Gojo threaten us, now your lover beats your dad’s face in!? What sort of whore are you having these men dumb enough to fight us over you. Worthless girl.”
“Mom I didn’t do anything-”
“I wish I had another child, fuck anyone but you would do,” your tears fall at her cruel words.
“I wish I had good parents,” you finally speak up, breaths making your chest rise and fall, tears hot and stinging. “I wish it was anyone but you, terrible, miserable, cruel fucking woman.”
“Don’t you dare-”
“Don’t you dare ever call me again, I don’t ever want to even see you.” You hang up quickly when Sukuna’s opening the door, pausing as he sees your tear streaked face.
“Shit… Let me…”
“I asked you not to do that,” you’re sniffling as he shuts the door, setting the keys on the counter, walking right for you. “You could have went to prison!”
“I’d get out,” his jokes don’t work, and he notices, frowning again as he stares at you, brushing your messy hair back. “I had to do something, you expect me to let someone fucking hit you?”
“It will just make stuff worse for me, I know you care but – mnh!” Sukuna brushes his thumb against where you’re hurt, making you suck in a breath.
“He did that, and this,” he touches where your lip just healed, making it tingle underneath his thumb. “I don’t listen to what anyone fucking tells me, and I’m sorry – but I won’t listen to a girl who’s getting abused defending her abusers.”
“Yet I asked you to!” You shove at him now, glaring even through your tears, Sukuna cups your face, leaning low.
“Guess what? I’d do it again,” you gasp, eyes locking with his – an impossible, insane red. “I told you I’d burn down the fucking world for you.”
“You c-can’t,” he turns you around then, wrapping his huge arms around you, cock pressing on the curve of your ass. “Why me?”
“Because it’s you,” he bites your neck, earning your sharp hiss. “God it’s all I can think of since I first saw you, how fucking pretty you were, how broken. How I want to fit these beautiful, broken pieces back together.”
“You’re insane,” you whisper, when he turns your face to him.
“I punched him twice,” you shake your head just a bit in his strong hold, his other hand gripping you between your thighs. “Wanted to kill him, wanted to beat your shitty ass mom.”
“Sukuna!”
“I hate them, I hate anyone who hurt you,” his fingers brush you over that soft shirt until it’s soaked, and you’re writhing for his touch. “And I hate that they made you think you deserved it."
His voice drops to a low whisper against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, making your tummy clench with need. “I know you care, I just… you don’t understand how deep it runs and… I am being a dis-”
“You don't fucking deserve it, and you never did."
His words leave no room for argument, as he’s touching your cunt, wrecking your mind to the point you’re arching against him, whining out desperately. “Kuna…”
“Love when you call me that dumb nickname,” his teeth sink into your neck before he’s bending you over the arm of the couch with a firm push, leaving you breathless when he hovers over you with his heavy weight, his knuckles coated with the dried blood from your dad.
“That’s…”
“Sorry I didn't wash my hands yet,” he laughs and turns your face towards him, breaths mingling together.
His hands yank that big shirt you're wearing up over your ass, the curve of it making him groan. “Mnh…”
"I'm not sorry for what I did," your hands grip the pillow he’s got you pressed against, his body heavy as he presses you down, you hear his zipper sliding down, cunt already responding to it. "I'm not sorry I beat his face in. I'd do it again."
Sukuna’s pressing the wet, slicked head of his cock against your entrance, you’re arching back for more, earning his desperate groan, arms wrapping around your waist to drag you down. Your cunt is struggling to take his shape, eyes rolling back just feeling the stretch.
“I need to be inside you,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes dark as they study you. You’re soaking him, drool spilling from your cunt as he just presses, swiping it up and down, the wet noise echoing in your ringing ears. “Can you take me brat?”
“Mhm, but I m-mad,” he chuckles. “Not funny!”
“You’re just too fuckin’ cute,” Sukuna doesn't prepare you, doesn't wait, drives into you in one brutal, deep stroke that makes you scream out, him moan as you wrap him so goddamn tight. “Oh fuck… stretching her out, huh?”
You cry out, your fingers digging into the arms that wrap you now, face pressed down toward the couch cushions as he gives you just a moment and starts to move inside of you. Mean, possessive strokes that suck the breath from your lungs, tip dragging along your walls, stuffing you so full you can’t think.
“Deserved every fucking hit for touching you,” Sukuna’s voice is dark, his hand coming to rest on your head, entangling in the nape of your neck, lips moving across your jaw. “Deserved worse.”
“You can h-hit everyone who h- hiccup!” He’s fucking you too good, angling his cock so it ruins your snug little hole, still sore from last night – a sweet, addictive ache that rushes through you.
“I can, hah…” He’s gripping you with his bloodied hand, capturing your lips and slamming inside again, filling you until he’s bulging inside your tummy, the one still pressed on the arm – the pressure too much. “I will kill anyone who hurts you.”
You swallow, tears threatening to spill, unable to do anything other than arch back and whine out, eyes rolling back in your skull. Tears do spill, with drool, when he slips your hand down to your own clit. “Mnh, why do you care s-so much for me?”
He pauses, pulling out and lifting you in his arms, your hand falling off as you cling to him tightly. Sukuna’s guiding his cock back inside slower now, studying you with his eyes unreadable – if only you could know what he was thinking. Why he deems you so special that he’d do anything – do too much for you, but he’s pressing you right on the nearest wall, holding you there.
“You ask dumb questions, brat,” his words are soft, cock stuffing you full, his hands digging into the plush of your ass, dragging you down harder as your nails grip his shoulders. “I already told you, I won’t let someone hurt you.”
Your thighs press against his hips, his grip on you tightening until he leaves marks, eyes catching yours – his thrusts are slower now, easier on you, you’re so tight still you can feel the pop of the ridge on his cockhead, every raised vein down his shaft on your gummy walls.
“Feek s’fuckin’ perfect, made just f’me, huh? All me.”
“Don’t stop,” you whisper drunkenly already, the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel, your voice trembling and shaky. “Please…”
“I’ll give you whatever you want,” his words are rough, but the way he caresses your face is delicate. “Fill you up with as much cum as you need, all of it.”
His lips capture yours, and suddenly none of it matters – your mom’s nasty calls, Satoru’s call, it all just fades as he fills you and fucks your thoughts away.
Addictive.
Sukuna is addictive.
*****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
Seeing you after your night out, littered with marks when you walk in with some brand new dress Satoru’s never seen, his heart sinks in his fucking chest. He knew what you did, that you gave Sukuna your virginity – the thing he told you he never wanted, but what a fucking lie it was.
Satoru wanted you the moment he fucking saw you at the engagement party, he just wanted to give you that freedom, and now you have it, you’re using it. If he didn’t care he’d be happy for you if anything – not feeling this sick jealousy creeping underneath his skin, mixed with the sheer desperation to get even the smallest hint of you.
Your lips underneath his? He didn’t care where they were, if they were sucking Sukuna off or not, didn’t care if your cunt was full of Sukuna’s cum and stretched out – he’d pump more inside you. It’s driving him insane, the need that’s been building, that increased from that night when he took you away from your parents, and now he just got that nasty fucking call.
Sukuna beating them up? He doesn’t blame him actually – he wanted to, but the problem was he knows now things will be worse for you. And yeah, Satoru fucking cares. Imagine him, caring for a human being? He didn’t know he was even capable of it, and here she is wobbling and all bruised from this fuck ass Sukuna.
“You look like you had fun,” he manages to say, you’re blushing as you shut the door. “Too much.”
“Yeah I need to go get fixed up,” you hesitate, pausing in front of him, opening your mouth as if to say anything, but then closing it. “So she’s not here?”
“No,” his answer is quiet, the clock ticking on the wall loud suddenly, the only sound aside from the whirring of the fan overhead and your breaths. “You know he beat your dad up.”
“I know,” your eyes close. “I told him not to.”
“So he didn’t listen?”
“Don’t act like you’d listen to me,” you scoff and shake your head. “No, he shouldn’t have done it, but… he did. And he was honest.”
“You think I didn't wanna beat the shit out of him?” You shake your head.
“No, I don’t think you did. Why would you?”
“Why? I watched… I heard…” Satoru turns, emotions hitting him hard. “Sukuna’s not the only person who gives a fuck.”
“Well that’s a very new development,” you sniffle just a bit, making him turn back to look at your glassy eyes and swollen lips trembling. “I don’t know what to believe from you, what’s jealousy, what’s a game. If you cared, how could you have acted like that, the day in the office?”
“I needed you to give up,” he laughs without humor, walking up to you and leaning low, a hand on the wall behind you. “You did give up, didn’t you?”
“Now you wish I what, held on longer? You don’t even know I’m sure – I wrote you a note in there. Bet you threw the lunch out.”
“I ate it,” you blink in clear confusion. “I read the note.”
“You read that, and said nothing?” Your tears stream down your cheeks, still marked from that hit, Satoru swipes at one gently, his huge hand cupping your face. “You probably laughed at it.”
“I didn’t laugh,” his voice is soft now, as he feels the regret from it all eat him alive. He never planned to care for you during this, he never planned to feel anything – he actively avoided it, but now all he can think of is that note. “You said you felt things when we kissed.”
“I did,” your lip trembles under his thumb. “You said you felt nothing.”
“I did say that,” he sighs now. “Was your cunt wet, your heart racing? Did you ache right here?”
His hand presses your tummy, heat seeping through, your chest rises and falls with your shallow breaths. “It doesn’t matter what I felt, does it? I was no different from Jennifer, Chloe, whoever you could find. In fact – you wanted them.”
“And you think I don’t want you?”
“I know it,” you press your hands to his chest, pausing for a moment. “I asked you if you cared a bit to let me be happy.”
“He’s psychotic.”
“So are you,” he laughs then, shaking his head.
“Yeah I guess so,” he eases back reluctantly, every nerve ending was screaming to lift you up, to kiss and fuck the thoughts of Sukuna away. “I’ll have the makeup artist cover your hickeys up too.”
“Yours are where you can’t see,” your hand slips to his abdomen, he sucks in a breath as you lift that shirt, revealing the purple bruises and touching them.
Satoru almost cums from a caress on a goddamn hickey.
His hand grips your wrist tightly as you look up at him under your lashes, not the shy unsure look, there’s just a little something different there already. “I have a few of these too.”
“Yeah, I bet you do,” he slips your sleeve down, revealing a bite mark right on your shoulder. “I’d be mad he bruised every bit of your skin – but I’d do it too.”
“You wouldn’t, you don’t want to mark me,” he smirks, thumb brushing over the bite, making you tremble, goosebumps rising. “You’re just mad I fucked someone.”
“Yeah I’m mad, but oh sweetheart,” he leans down, lips hovering over the bite on your neck, your hands cling to his shirt, head tilting to the side. Satoru’s hand slips up your spine slowly, lips barely a breath away from your skin. “I’d mark you even worse than he did, your pretty tits would be covered, your waist, your hips. Every cute little slutty inch.”
You say nothing, whining softly, your dilated eyes fucking destroying him as he pulls back, leaving you blinking – it takes everything to do it, against every damn instinct he has. “Gojo…”
“Call me Satoru while we’re out tonight, yeah? Especially when the cameras are on us, they’re gonna ask hard questions about your boxer.” You nod and he drags himself away, shutting his eyes. “You smell like his cologne.”
“I’ll wash up…” You brush past him ever so slightly, Satoru’s hands clench into fists.
He wants to fucking kill Sukuna, but moreso he wants you to look at him the way he saw you looking at Sukuna yesterday, with that damn look in your eyes. Yet he doesn’t deserve that – he didn’t deserve anything from you, fuck he deserves to hear you get railed by him every night.
Just because he knows that doesn’t mean he stops craving it until it drives him insane, jerking it just hearing you in the shower later like a desperate freak. It’s what you make him.
*****
𝕾𝖚𝖐𝖚𝖓𝖆
“How was the night?” Sukuna asks the next day as you’re both in the boxing ring, you frown a little. “What?”
“It was just hard to deal with all the questions, all the photos that they were taking of me,” Sukuna wipes the sweat off his forehead, it’s early in the morning before anyone else comes, Sukuna had hated being away from you after sleeping with you.
In his arms, where he fucking needs you, but last night he had a match he had to coach, and you had that dumb event, where he had to see you on Satoru Gojo’s arm. He knows it’s for show, but there’s something about the two of you together, this sinking fucking feeling you harbor more for Satoru than you let on.
He’ll gladly fuck every thought of the prissy little nepo baby from your mind, but at the same time, he’s so desperate to be with you, he’d rather let you get whatever it is out of your system, under his control. He could see it in the way your cheeks heat up when you talk about him, the way you looked back at him in the house the other night when he took you away.
Sukuna knows that Satoru is gonna try shit on you – he’d rather make sure that he understands you’re his, and that you understand it.
“Sukuna,” you frown as you stare at your phone, Sukuna hits the punching bag and leans over to look at you.
“What, brat? Avoiding training? Think because you got dick you don’t have to put in effort?” You roll your eyes but your lips quirk up, he laughs when you shove at him.
“Jerk,” but your face falls, Sukuna frowns at you.
“What is it? Better not be your fuck ass parents.”
“No, it’s just that someone took a picture of me at the event, after all the cameras stopped and posted this…” Sukuna picks up the phone, frowning when he sees the name, brows raised.
“What kinda fuck ass handle is that? Is she a stalker or some shit?”
“She’s a paparazzi for the shittiest company, so yeah,” you sigh, Sukuna can tell the words are hurting your feelings. “She said I’m… that I…”
“Shh,” his jaw sets now, seeing her nasty little comment when he takes your phone from your shaky hand. “What a stupid bitch, does she need some good dick or something?”
“Sukuna…” You giggle a bit as he takes his own phone out, pulling up the shitty comment on the candid picture of you, you’re still gorgeous it’s just a really odd angle, and there’s a hint of your black eye and swollen lip with the lighting. “What are you doing!?”
“I’ll make this dumb bitch cry, thinking she can say shit about you,” he laughs then, his eyes flashing just a tad redder than usual, black painted finger nails flying over the phone.
“Don’t be mean!”
“You’re a little too nice brat,” he turns away when you try to grab his phone, letting you reach around him.
“Give it!”
“Nope, if I beat up your dad I’ll cuss this bitch out.”
“Sukuna you shouldn’t have done that, I’m still hearing about it,” he shrugs, looking back at you.
“They still talking shit?” You look down. “Ah, another visit.”
“No more visits, you can’t fuck your way out of trouble every time you know,” Sukuna turns and raises a brow at you. “Isn’t that what it was?”
“No brat,” he tilts your chin up with two fingers. “It was me wanting to bury my cock inside you.”
You’re a blushing mess, cheeks hot under his fingers, making him chuckle softly. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“You’re just cute.”
“I can be serious,” you cross your arms, making him smirk.
“She can say what she wants, you have my mouth on your cunt, and my cum inside you. Bet no one’s ever fucked this bitch.”
“Don’t be too mean!” You frown when you see his comment pops up on your phone, pretty eyes widening. “Oh god, you can’t tell her to do that!?!?”
“Sure I can, brat,” he laughs maniacally as he starts typing even more, ripping the surely sad girl to shreds. “Bet she–”
“Ryoumen Sukuna!”
“Fuck you’re sexy when you’re all mad,” he tugs you close, shoving his phone in his pocket, huge hand on the small of your back, tugging you against his body. He’s slick with sweat, your little hands gripping his massive biceps, fingers pressing in against the muscles. “You have even that dumb twink dying after you, surely you know she’s full of shit, yeah?”
You bury your face against his chest, sighing. “He doesn’t want me, I don’t know why you’re so convinced.”
“I’m not blind, look at his fucking face in the photos – yearning like a loser, can’t blame him though. I would too if I couldn’t have you.”
“Insane, you’re toxic and insane,” Sukuna grins at that, seeing you’re still visibly affected by the words.
“I am, so I’ll just eat your pussy until you forget her comment,” you gasp when Sukuna is on his knees, tugging down your leggings, already inhaling your scent, fuck he loves it. “Bet she’s touching herself to pictures of your dumb husband and he’s jerking it to you instead.”
“You’re insane, ngh!” Sukuna drags you against his face, wrapping an arm around your hips and tugging you close, tongue lapping up your slit and gathering those juices, groaning. “Kuna they’ll be coming to practice soon.”
“Then you need to cum quick,” he spreads the meat at your inner thighs apart, tongue lapping all those juices up, moaning as you fill his mouth. Your phone goes off with another comment, and you pause, blinking. “What is it?”
“He commented,” Sukuna chuckles against your heat, slipping his thumb to press on your clit, making your whine our, arching.
“Defended you?”
“M-must be for show or…”
“Or he wants to bury his face,” Sukuna’s tongue slips inside your hole, your phone falls, clattering to the soft floor of the ring, hands clinging to his shoulders. “You’re fucking beautiful, don’t listen to that shit.”
*****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
How fucking awkward.
You, Chloe, Jennifer, Sukuna all at a fucking dinner table that night.
Satoru looks utterly miserable between the two girls fighting over who gets a whack at him tonight, excusing himself to go grab drinks, Sukuna’s enjoying this shit far too much, slipping his fingers in your cunt while you all sit there. Being all… Sukuna like… ruining all your senses every time he touches you.
You’d barely gotten to cum earlier when the hoard of people coming to practice started walking in, but you had an orgasm, one he licked off his lips and fingers hungrily. You know he hasn’t cum though, not since the last time he fucked you – when he pressed in fully without warning, when he’d been insane.
More insane than usual.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” you murmur to him, he nods, swiping your slick on your thigh.
“Gonna squirt right here, ya worried?”
“You’re so sadistic,” he just grins big, sharp teeth glinting. “You are.”
“Mhm, I am, go on before I make you squirt in front of these sluts,” your glare does nothing.
Sukuna truly gives no fuck and that’s frightening as it is sexy.
You bump into Satoru who is walking in from having a cigarette clearly, you can smell the smoke on him, feel the chill from the outside as he grips your arms so you don’t fall. You swallow, looking up at him nervously, the two of you haven’t spoke a word directly to each other during this slutty, dysfunctional cheater dinner.
What can you say?
“Sorry,” he laughs softly, leaning low.
“For walking?”
“Yeah, I mean… not sorry,” you close your eyes. “I um, am going to the bathroom.”
“Yeah.” It’s all he says, hands falling, you halt him then, murmuring his name, making him look at you curiously. “What, I’m just dying to eat dinner with the man who leaves bruises on your throat.”
“And I’m dying to hear annoying bitches argue over who gets to suck your dick first!?” He laughs again, this time genuine, snorting and shaking his head.
“You saying ‘bitches’ is so out of place, it’s kinda cute.”
“I’m not cute mad! You both need to stop saying it.”
“Yeah well, hate to tell you, it’s hard to find you intimidating.”
“I split your lip,” you smile meanly, he licks that lower lip, doing some fucked shit to your tummy. “Didn’t I?”
Yesterday when he’d touched your bite mark and… you can’t even think this way, just because you all have some weird ass understanding, you can’t do that to Sukuna – want someone else, especially Satoru. Yet how do you tell your younger self who loved him to stop feeling? Tell your body not to respond, your heart not to race?
You have to remember this is temporary, and an amusement at best.
“You did,” he murmurs thoughtfully, toying with the lighter in his hand, a little light blue one he keeps fidgeting with. “Got a hell of a hit.”
“Um, thanks for standing up for me with the internet girl,” your words clearly surprise him. “It was kind of you.”
“Me, kind?” He snorts, shaking his head. “Right.”
“It was, even if it was just… like the act of a defensive ‘husband’ for your PR.”
“It wasn’t,” he murmurs quietly, eyes flickering down your body. “The shit she said was all wrong.”
“Is it so far off what you said, the last person on earth you’d want?” Satoru opens his mouth, your emotions hit too deeply already. “I’m sorry I can’t just bring that up, I meant to just thank you.”
“Stop thanking me for shit.”
Satoru walks off, you rush to the bathroom, splashing water on your face, cringing when you hear the laughs of Satoru’s annoying ass companions, looking at your reflection in the mirror. You look tired, your cheeks are sunken in from not eating enough again, dark circles underneath your eyes, a little drawn.
You want to pick yourself apart, all the parts that aren’t perfect, but Sukuna’s words ring in your ears, and now Satoru’s.
Not true.
None of that mean shit is true.
Satoru comforting you is not something you’d have bet on, about as unlikely as Sukuna having dinner with him.
Your life has gotten messy, hasn’t it?
“So what made you wanna become a secretary,” Sukuna pops a bite of food into his mouth, smirking over at the two women who are clinging to a simply exhausted Satoru Gojo. You’d laugh if the sight still didn’t irritate the ever loving shit out of you, the girls are giggling as you sit there, sighing and poking at your food.
You suppose you’re happy that at least you two can sit across from each other in your weird ass dysfunctional way. Satoru’s eyes keep catching yours, darting across your skin, your neck, your chest. Sukuna’s hand constantly on your thigh, squeezing protectively, possessively.
“So, Mrs. Gojo, what do you think of what they’re saying about you?” You blink a bit, tears about to form, you’re sensitive about that, Satoru glares right next to her now.
“How’d you know about it, Jen?”
“Well it’s all over, isn’t it Chloe?”
“I didn’t see it,” she’s running her fingers down Satoru’s chest as you sip on that wine he brought – a good thirty years old, those girls are downing the shit like it’s Boone’s farm of course. Yet you simply take your time, trying to find an appetite, you know you’re not helping things not eating and Sukuna would get on you if you don’t.
“I thought it was mean,” you answer finally, Jennifer gives you this nasty little smile when Satoru takes her hand off him.
“Why don’t you head out, Jen.”
“What!?”
“Yay, I win!” Chloe is practically fucking dancing when Sukuna stands up, taking your hand and tugging you toward your room.
“Sukuna…”
He turns you toward him, tilting your chin up as you both stand in front of your door, you can feel Satoru’s eyes on you both, Sukuna peers just a bit at the annoying Jennifer throwing a fit and Satoru honestly looking so done. “Come to bed, brat.”
******
“Sukuna…” you're gasping out later as Sukuna kisses a messy trail down your body, saliva making those marks glimmer underneath the soft lights of your room, your hand covering your mouth so Gojo doesn't hear.
“Fuckin' look at you,” Sukuna breathes out, tugging your panties to the side, seeing your pretty, glistening cunt, looking up under his sooty pink lashes at your face. “Who are you this wet for?”
You hear it then, the worry, you take a shaky breath as you take your hand off your mouth, trembling underneath him. “You’re asking that?”
“Yeah I am,” he tilts your chin up, staring right at you as his fingers toy with your messy slit, watching you jerk underneath him. “He’s dying for a piece of you, and you can’t see it.”
“Sukuna, he's got that girl in the room, ah!” You bite down on your lower lip to stop it from trembling, Satoru got so annoyed Jennifer had to go, but apparently Chloe annoyed him just a bit less.
“Yeah and he wishes it were you, so is this all for me?” He pulls his fingers off, slipping them in your mouth – you hear it, see it, the anger and possessiveness, letting you suck yourself off them.
“You,” it's true – Satoru and you have reached some odd standstill, an understanding, he's in the next room getting sucked off, but you're not even upset at it anymore.
How can you be with a giant six foot five man between your thighs, with those crimson eyes so dilated they’re almost black? Parting your folds and eyeing your soppy little cunt hungrily as he kneels, the weight of him making your bed sink, spitting a messy trail right on it with a bubbly string of saliva.
“Don't stay quiet,” you gasp when he shoves your thighs against your chest, insanity written all over his face, this sadistic grin as he watches you twitch underneath him. “Let him hear what he can't have.”
“You're insane Sukuna,” you whisper hoarsely, still trying to keep it down – but he just chuckles, those calloused fingers sliding up underneath the plush of your thighs to pin you, spit still trickling between your puffy lips.
“Insane would be making you pregnant right now,” he tilts his head, folding you in half, clothed cock nudging the slick mess your cunt is, soaking his pants. “You think I'm that crazy? Put a fuckin’ baby inside ya?”
He knows you just started the pill – but that doesn’t stop him from saying the craziest shit ever, and your body reacts to it all, clenching in your tummy, your cunt pulsing around nothing. You’re aching to be filled by him, the spit all sticky when he presses on it once more, pressure and friction against your clit unbearable.
Yet you think about it – what Gojo’s doing.
You shouldn’t care anymore, here you are, with a man who beat your dad up like a psycho, who licked you dumb in the boxing ring, and now he’s slapping your cunt with a loud, wet smack. You’re gasping out at the pain, lost in those ruby red eyes of his, the tattoos on his neck glinting underneath your light.
“Pregnant? Mnh!” He’s grinding harder, thickness pressing between your folds and nudging your needy, twitchy clit. “Sukuna, that is crazy.”
“Think I don’t wanna breed your cunt?” Your hands cling to him tightly, as he brushes your hair back, hands pressing into your waist. “When the fuck wouldn’t I want to?”
Sukuna ruts against you, knowing you need more but not fully giving it, your eyes get dazed. “Kuna…”
“I wanna fuck every thought of that blue eyed fuck from your mind,” Sukuna unzips those pants finally, his heavy cock just thwacking your soppy cunt, as his insanity bleeds into his every action. “I’d let you have anything, but I damn sure would be the main one in your head, make sure I cum inside first, if he’s lucky I’d let him after.”
“Sukuna I didn’t s-say I wanted that,” his tip glides through your folds, pushing the arousal around that leaks on him, precum beading from his pearly tip and sticking to your twitchy clit. “Never did.”
“I can see him yearning, who could blame him? Fucked up letting you go,” he shoves his cock all the way inside, deep, tip pummeling your puffy cervix, rolling his hips and putting even more pressure in your core. “He wishes he was in here.”
“Just kiss me,” he hovers over your lips, not quite touching, as your mind spins, cunt fluttering around his cock, swirling down the veins that are pressing inside your quivering walls. “I’m wet for you, okay?”
Sukuna moans desperately, slamming his lips on yours again, fucking into your cunt – rutting you right into your bed, teeth clicking with the way he loses himself. He’s taking over everything for you, making you forget – filling you with that hit of dopamine you’re so desperately lacking in life.
It’s all Sukuna in your muddled mind, thoughts running and fuzzy, your cries getting louder before you can stop yourself, nails pressing against his biceps as they bunch and roll.
“Kuna,” you whine out when he fucks you harder, balls slamming against your ass – heavy with cum he wants to pour inside. “C-can’t breathe, s’much…”
Sukuna slams in and holds it, studying you with eyes gone batshit. “Then breathe me, yeah? Breathe me in.”
You nod weakly, Sukuna’s mouth moves over yours again, tongue swirling around yours, his cock pounding your tiny cunt. Sukuna’s dying to fucking claim you, to ruin you, to stretch you out on his cock so it’s only him – just him in your head, the thought of you forgiving Satoru has him fucking you harder, grabbing you tighter, whimpering your name against your skin.
“All me,” he murmurs against your neck, breathing against your ear. “Let him hear, like he made you hear.”
Your whine is loud when he drags his thumb across your clit, Sukuna can’t help but grin.
“Good girl.”
******
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
How can he cum when you’re in the next room getting pounded into the fucking mattress? How can he think of anything but how good your mouth would feel, how pretty you’d look taking him? The girl on her knees is pretty enough he supposes, she’s not shit compared to you. That used to not bother him, he could get over it – but now him hearing you?
Fuck your moans are just sexy, perhaps the only thing keeping him throbbing hard, knowing Sukuna was fucking you – fucking his goddamn wife. The one he pushed to this, and knowing that hurts more, impossibly more. That you were going to eagerly give yourself, you begged for a kiss, your note where you told him you felt something and he broke you.
That was the moment of no return, wasn’t it? When he yelled at you in his office after you made that sushi, the cute little heart shaped ones he didn’t bother to thank you for. That cute pink note where you poured your heart out, and he couldn’t be bothered to apologize, to ever acknowledge it, no he continued on, you wouldn’t be with him long anyway, would you?
He didn’t know seeing you with someone would infuriate him so goddamn much, was it because it was Sukuna?
Was it so much more he doesn’t wanna fucking think about it?
“Satoru,” Chloe whines out, stroking his cock with a tight fist. “I want you to cum for me.”
“Then suck harder,” he shoves her head down, hearing another moan, and a muttered – Good girl.
Good girl, imagine him calling you that? Would you cum on his cock as you did, would you arch for him, let him pin you down as he fucks Sukuna’s cum right out of you, and puts his inside instead? Satoru’s never not used a condom but he would fill you up, feel your cunt quivering around him as he made you forget Sukuna.
He knows you feel it, the way you look at him…
“F-fuck…” Satoru busts in her mouth at the vivid images of you, exhaling with shaky hands, barely able to keep himself together as she swallows it down so greedy, leaning up as if to kiss him.
Satoru doesn’t wanna kiss her – he wants your lips on his, the one screaming out fucking Kuna.
*****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
Sukuna’s snoring when you walk out to get a drink later that night, turning the corner into the kitchen just to smack into Satoru’s hard body. He catches you before you trip and fall, his hands taking your waist over, feeling too intimate – it’s utterly too much, when he looks at you, his lips parted, eyelids lowered.
“Have fun?” He asks softly, you nod with a jerky motion, your hands going to push him away but faltering.
“Did you have fun, Gojo?” You ask, tilting your head back to peer at him, your heart hammering in your chest.
You want Sukuna.
You can’t want Gojo too.
His words echo in your mind – Gojo wants you.
He can’t want you – if he did, he’d have never done what he has to you, if he does it’s some sick fucking game. You ease back but he doesn’t let you go, stepping until your back is against the island, the cool marble pressing into your skin, you’ve only got a crop top and a little pair of shorts on. Satoru’s touching bare fucking skin, lowering over you.
“No I didn’t have fucking fun,” you gasp at the harshness in his voice, the desperation that breaks him, the same tone Sukuna had when he asked if you were wet for Gojo. “Hearing you moan underneath him? Do you think I liked it?”
“I’ve listened to you moan this whole month,” you practically hiss the words, Satoru sighs, his eyes shutting, resting his head on yours. “You can’t act like you care now, so stop it.”
“You think I’m fine with him fucking you?”
“Gojo…”
“Does he cum in you?”
“Yes,” you’re not trying to be mean, you’re being honest – he scowls down at you, brushing your hair back and feeling you tremble. “I’m on a pill.”
“Yeah? Taking birth control so he can fuck you?”
“Yes,” you look down nervously. “A baby right now would be insane, even if I so badly want one some day.”
He frowns a bit, looking down at you, tilting your chin up and wrapping his arm around you. “You want a baby?”
“I told you, that you don’t know anything about me, you never wanted to,” your hands close into fists over his soft shirt, gripping the material tightly. “Don’t act like you want me.”
“Act?” He laughs harshly. “The act was me pretending I didn’t want you, fuck do you really not see it?” He cups your face now with both hands, thigh pressing between yours, he’s too much – just like Sukuna, taking your breath.
Yet Satoru took your dopamine, didn’t he? He took the only bits of hope you had and crushed them, you can’t go forgetting it because he’s looking at you like this. You swallow nervously, unable to fully disentangle yourself from him, stuck in his gravity. Satoru exhales, his eyes so dark they’re black behind the shocking snowy fringe of his eyelashes.
“You think I didn’t want you? Really?”
“You said you didn’t, and you chose everyone,” you grip his wrists, both of your voices barely over a whisper. “Anyone you could get your cock inside, and I listened to it all, fuck I saw you with them, riding you in your bed, on your desk. All so I’d know that there’s no ‘us’. Right?”
He says nothing, swallowing now, his eyes coated in a little sheen of moisture, dying to yank him off but still unable to make the move.
“Why are you mad that it worked?” Satoru’s grip tightens, you suddenly feel too much in that moment, every bit of pain you’ve been keeping inside threatening to spill over. “You pushed me so fucking far to ‘spare me’. Consider me spared.”
“I didn’t…” His thumb brushes over your lower lip softly, hesitating as it moves against you, when you hear Chloe gasping.
“Satoru!”
“Jesus fuck,” he glares at her now. “Go home or something.”
“What!? What are you doing with her?”
Sukuna’s yawning in his boxers, scratching his abdomen when he sees your face cupped by Satoru, and you panic at the precarious position, sure he’ll be furious with you for not shoving him off. You’re already trembling, realizing just how deep of a disappointment you’ve become to anyone, sniffling when Gojo looks down at you.
“Fuck, you okay?” he brushes your tears and you nod, Sukuna walks up and tugs you against him, frowning.
“Brat, you’re okay. I’m not mad,” he’s gentle then, as he kisses your forehead. “You can’t make me mad.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” Sukuna sighs and hugs you closely, you rest your head against his chest. “My feelings are all over the place.”
“Yeah, gaslighting and manipulation does that shit,” he glares over your head at Satoru. “There a reason you had a death grip on her face?”
“She’s still my wife, you can’t be mad if I held her… but I was not going to hurt her if that’s what you think.”
“I think you’re trying to fuck her head up,” you sigh, hearing Chloe’s annoying voice whining. “Can you fucking uber her home before I do?”
“I can’t believe you’d talk-”
“Yeah,” you gasp, looking at Satoru now who’s sliding his phone off the counter, pressing the screen. “Time to go home sweetheart.”
“Huh!?”
Sukuna’s snorting, Satoru’s trying to get her to leave, confusing you utterly, you blink and look up at Sukuna then. “Desperate for you isn’t he? Pathetic.”
“Kuna,” he tilts your chin up carefully, heart hammering underneath your palm. “You’re not upset?”
“I’ll fuck any thoughts of him away, I’d fuck his cum out of your cunt and fill it with mine,” his words are filthy, making your heart race. “I’d fuck your throat so raw you couldn’t moan his name, but if you wanted? I’d give him to you, I’d fucking do anything for you.”
“Why? I don’t think I’m so special,” your lips are trembling, Chloe’s leaving and Sukuna’s kissing your lips. “Mmm, I want you, Kuna.”
“I know,” he lifts you by your thighs, having you wrap around him, sitting you right on the counter. “You want him too.”
“No,” you shake your head quickly, Satoru turns and eyes you both – his hands on your thighs, the way you look right at Satoru. “I can’t.”
Sukuna kisses up your neck when Satoru comes closer. “I wasn’t done talking to her yet, Sukuna.”
“You can talk while I make her cum,” Sukuna’s hand trails down your tummy, feeling it tremble underneath his sure touch. “You probably could learn how from me.”\
“I don’t need lessons,” his eyes dart across where Sukuna’s sliding your shorts to the side, exposing your cunt to him. His cheeks flush red, lips parted, his own hands trembling until he clenches them into fists. “Gonna finger my wife on my fucking counter?”
“Should ask you to lick up the mess when she’s done,” Satoru scoffs, Sukuna’s lips brush your ear, sinking two fingers in your cunt and curling them, making you cry out, Satoru moans at the sound. “Bet you would, huh?”
“Why’d y-you send her home,” you ask shakily, thighs trembling as you feel his gaze locked in on your cunt. “If you knew I was with him.”
“She was fucking annoying,” Satoru mumbles, exhaling then, while Sukuna starts fucking his fingers inside you. “So loud, huh? Your cunt, I could hear it – even louder now.”
“She gets loud for me,” Sukuna’s eyes meet yours, confusing you even moreso. “Told you he’d die to touch you.”
His words are low, just meant for your ears, moving up and down faster as you cling to the counter. Sukuna peers back at Satoru then, who’s transfixed in place, his eyes now meeting yours, fingering faster until you’re desperately clinging to his arm, cunt spasming, Sukuna’s cupping one of your breasts, a thumb brushing right over your nipple.
“Do you like watching your wife’s cunt squirt? All over me?” He asks, you’re biting down on your lip, trying to gasp for a breath, but Satoru says nothing.
His eyes just hit yours again, full of…
Desire.
*****
𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚
Imagine having to watch your wife cum on a counter with the man you’ve hated for years – that’s Satoru’s reality. One he knows he fucking deserves – shit he doesn’t even really deserve to see your cunt, even if it’s got Sukuna’s tattooed fingers inside it. All puffy from fucking, but got it’s pretty, so wet the squelch and squish is echoing, his fingers moving faster inside you.
Why do you have to look at him like that? Shouldn’t you only hate him, for all the shit he did, shouldn’t you tell him to fuck himself, to blatantly grind on Sukuna in front of him just to rub it in Satoru’s face? You’re soft still, you’re fucking sweet somehow, how do you manage to look so pretty and precious with your thighs spread on a counter in front of another man?
Satoru has been able to have any woman he’s ever wanted in his young life – he’s barely older than you by a couple years, but the differences were drastic. Before you found Sukuna and he wrecked your pretty hole, Satoru knew you hadn’t done anything at all.
I’ve n-never kissed before, I’m probably just bad at it.
Please, Satoru, just give this a chance.
It rings in his head, the fact that he could have had you first, you’d have willingly done it too, he bets all he had to do was unzip his slacks and you’d have been on your knees, serving him. You’d have done anything to please him, a pliant, sweet little thing – but you’re not now, are you?
And maybe Satoru loves seeing you like this, open about the body you were insecure and hiding, instead spreading wide, letting Sukuna shove your top up so your cute tits just stare at him. He’s so hard it’s painful, leaking so much pre he’s stuck to his damn boxers, hard to remember Sukuna’s even in the room with his fingers buried inside your hole.
What’s it feel like? Fuck he can’t even imagine how she grips, how tight she is, you’re struggling to take Sukuna’s fingers, he can see the way you’re glistening more and more slick. The way Sukuna controls you is fucking terrifying, how he murmurs something and you utterly comply, he says loosen up – you do. He says to touch your tits – you do.
He can’t tell what Sukuna’s game is, some ploy to make Satoru fucking utterly pathetic? To show him how much you belong to him, and never Satoru? Give him a hint of you just to take you away the moment he can.
Sukuna probably would give you those kids you want.
Sukuna would marry you and you’d still be rich.
A fresh start, what he knows you deserve, the whole reason he pushed you away from him in the first place – but now all he can think of is how badly he wants to bury his face between your thighs, how he just wants to finger your slick cunt until you shatter. Your eyes are rolling back in your skull, your head falling back, a sick torture to a man who can’t stop jerking it to you.
Who can’t cum without picturing that it’s you he’s fucking instead, how fucking pathetic he is without Sukuna’s game.
“C’mere,” Sukuna earns Satoru’s eye roll.
“I’m not doing shit you say.”
“Ask him to come here, if you want brat,” he murmurs to you instead, and you look at Sukuna, blushing and then looking back at Satoru.
“Come here if you want,” you whisper, Satoru damn near sprints to you like some fucking loser – hating himself more and more for what you do, hating you for whatever shit you pulled on him. Satoru’s hand brushes your thigh, tugging it open and moaning out loud at the sight of your soppy lips drooling on Sukuna.
“I know her every spot,” Sukuna smirks and leans forward, pushing his fingers up and down, up and down, over and over, Satoru’s eyeing the drooling mess of your inner thighs as he moves, and your hand clings to Satoru and Sukuna’s shoulders. “I’ve taken real good care of her.”
Satoru says nothing, too fucking lost in how gorgeous you are, he’s never been so hard, never been so leaky, he could cum watching your pleasure. He can smell that sweet arousal, making his goddamn mouth water – after having two girls fight for him, all he can think is how they’re not a goddamn thing compared to you.
Was anyone?
And here you are, close enough to smell, your skin underneath his fingers, scent filling his nostrils, his thumb brushing a hint of slick that’s leaking from your pretty pussy. Satoru who could fuck anyone, Satoru who has fucked anyone but you, choosing to send them home to watch you with someone else.
Yes, he hates you for it, for having the audacity to look utterly beautiful in the soft night lighting of the kitchen on his island, whimpering out with this throaty little sound that has him groaning himself. Sukuna’s leaned over, kissing your lips right in front of Satoru, knowing how badly he wants it – perhaps his own version of twisted fucking payback.
“Cum f’me, pretty lil brat,” Sukuna breathes those words and it’s like again some command you obey – shattering and spasming, indeed squirting all over, droplets hitting his hand as it rests on your inner thigh. “You can give me more, can’t you?”
“S’too much,” you’re clinging tighter to Satoru’s bicep, gushing mess spilling from your little cunt, thigh shaking underneath his hold, he’s so close he has to palm his cock, wincing as he watches your eyes flutter shut. Your hips buck up, his own fingers almost brushing your cute pussy, the one he can’t imagine not having. “Ah! M-messy, fuck… embarassing…”
“Hah, you know I love it,” Sukuna’s kissing you again, before he pulls his fingers back, sucking you off them and moaning.
You must taste sweet.
Satoru’s said nothing, Sukuna’s taking your hand off his shoulder now, placing it on your clit, and Satoru whines.
How can he not at that sight?
“Sukuna?” You ask faintly, looking at him curiously.
“Take some of that and have him suck it off,” Sukuna kisses you once more, looking at Satoru then. “He’ll probably cum in his pants from a taste.”
“Yeah I fuckin’ doubt all that,” he grumbles.
“Wanna suck her off my fingers?”
“Fuck no,” he takes a breath now, shaking his head. “Sure you’re not exaggerating, moaning like she’s dessert?”
“I’m not,” he kisses your swollen lips, you sigh and lean into it. “Come back to bed after he gets his little taste.”
Satoru’s eyes lock with yours, your hand trembling as it glides through your mess you’ve made. “So you squirt all over like that?”
“I guess, it is a little embarrassing,” you’re so goddamn cute.
Why do you have to be?
“I don’t eat girls out,” Satoru says, leaning close to you. “I much rather have my cock sucked.”
“So you don’t need to taste-” you’re going to close your thighs when he holds them open, stepping close.
“I want it, fuck okay? I’d… I’d lick him off you, that’s what you’re doing to me, and acting cute and shit like you’re not.”
“I have no clue what you’re on about,” you lean back now, touching your slit, just a little more open to it, meeting his eyes as you do. “Sukuna loves eating pussy.”
Satoru laughs softly. “Yeah, does he?”
“Mhm,” you slide your fingers into your stretched out hole, Satoru’s eyes almost bulge out of their fucking sockets.
****
𝖄𝖔𝖚
You’ve never done something like this.
Sukuna makes you so bold, he makes you feel sexy, like you are desired and beautiful, Satoru has made you feel terrible – unwanted, undesired, hated for just existing, hollow remnants of what it was like with your parents, with the added sting of his infidelity. Yet now he’s standing here watching you hungrily, his eyes so bright and vivid blue they hurt to look at, speaking insanity.
Why was Sukuna giving you moments with him? What did he see?
“Fingering your cunt like that, do it often?” Satoru taunts, still terrible, even underneath all that calmness, he’s about to become unhinged, his thumb brushing circles near your cunt, lips just a breath away.
“Why don’t you eat girls out, Satoru?” He pauses now, a little flush on a notorious man whore’s cheeks, you sigh as you scoop more of your slick juices all sticky from your quivering cunt.
“I don’t know I never really felt like doing it,” he answers, for the first time maybe honest. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t make you cum.”
“You think?” You’re too bold, too brave, sounding more confident than you are, pulling your fingers out and watching them drip.
He steps close to you, between your thighs, his hands on each of them, lips parted and waiting. “I know I would, sweetheart, fuck you so good you’d forget the shit I did.”
“I won’t forget,” your words are soft when you take your fingers and brush the soaking mess against his pretty pink lips. “Suck.”
“You’re ordering me?” You nod and smile, he takes your hand and rolls his eyes. “Fine let’s get it over with.”
Satoru wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking them into his hot mouth, but that’s when it all shifts – his act, the way he was so conceited, no he’s moaning and sucking every bit of your juices off those thick, long digits. Bobbing up and down as he sucks them, leaving you breathless, your heart racing.
He pulls back with a string of saliva and moans, leaning down and licking the mess from your thigh, teeth sinking in, mouth brushing higher. Your hand entangles in his hair, gasping as he goes to the other thigh, licking you all up, like he’s completely and utterly desperate for you.
“Fuck you for tasting like that,” he whispers, lips smacking your skin, standing and hovering over you, hands squeezing brutally. “I hate that you do.”
“Better than the waitress at the party?” You ask, he laughs without humor, like he’s lost it, shaking his head and licking his lower lip, leaving it glossy.
“Yeah, better than her, even though your cunt is so goddamn slutty, so stretched out from him, huh?”
“Yeah, it is,” you smile and he helps you off the counter, leaning so low he’s almost kissing you. “Good night Satoru.”
“Good fucking night.” He leans even closer before rushing off, leaving you so goddamn confused, so breathless, walking into the room and shutting the door, laying your back against it for a moment.
Sukuna’s sitting right there, thighs spread on your bed, his cock leaking so much pre it’s coating it in white, raising a slutty brow as he studies you. “Bet he’s cumming just imagining the chance, but you’re gonna be with me tonight, aren’t you?”
‘Yes,” you walk towards him now, kneeling right between his thighs, lost and fucked up from the high of having these men want you – one, who you thought you loved and now hated, the other one you’re falling in love with.
How stretched can you be?
How many pieces can you have?
Sukuna’s tilting his head, studying your pretty face, sucking in a breath when you stroke his cock tentatively. “Why did you let him taste me?”
“I want all of you,” he whispers, as you kiss his tip lovingly, your mouth on it for the first time. “Every bit, the fucked up you, the damaged you, the parts of you that you don’t wanna see. I want them. I just fucking want you.”
“Wh-”
“Ask me why and I’ll fuck your ass tonight,” you gasp, blushing, and he just stares at you, brushing your hair back and pulling. “I want all of you.”
“I want all of you,” he moans softly – not a whimper or a whine like Satoru can be heard doing from the next room, it’s husky, dark, your tongue lapping around the reddened tip, swirling on the head of him. “Teach me what to do, Kuna.”
“Yeah, ready for that?” You nod eagerly.
“I want to please you, I want you to cum in my mouth,” you whisper, body thrumming, the exhaustion replaced by two straight hits of dopamine.
Ryomen Sukuna wanting you.
Satoru Gojo…
Did he…
Did you care?
You do, you do care and Sukuna knows it, but in this moment all you can think of is how badly you want him to fuck your throat, how you wanna choke on it, swallow it until you’re full. How you want Sukuna to fuck your pain away, make you never think of anything but how you feel.
You want to make him feel good like that.
“Please let me, Kuna.” You whisper, hand not even close to wrapping around his girth.
“You want to suck me, me first, your first?” He whispers, pulling hard on your hair now. You swallow and nod eagerly. “Then open that pretty mouth.”
if you enjoy, comments and reblogs are so appreciated. plz don't say 'finally' or some shit LMAO and try to be respectful in my comments. Love you all <3
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i suggest reading prequel of this fic— SOULMATE? HOLEMATE! —for better understanding.
❞ summary ⠾ You and Caleb reunite at Gran’s house and BOOM—turns out those sketchy toys were secretly linking your dicks and pussies the whole time. Months of ghost-fucking each other? Mutual. Both virgins? Also mutual. Gran leaves for 3 days? → instant horny apocalypse. You two lose your V-cards in the most depraved, “gege/meimei” way possible :3
❞ wc ⠾ 7.7k
❞ content warnings ⠾ pseudocest, heavy og “gege / meimei” / big brother-little sister dynamic, explicit smut, heavy dubcon, usage of toys, toys connected to each other's dick and pussy (portal panties), virginity loss, oral (m! receiving), toy play, double penetration via toy + real cock, squirting, creampie, face-sitting, spanking, cum play, overstimulation, rough sex, voyeurism, theft of panties, reader's a brat, possessiveness, emotional intensity, overall just straight up filth with plot
❞ cherry’s note ⠾ thanks to @kingraspberry12-blog for commissioning this piece. I never thought I'd drag my ass down to actually write a part two but it is what it is. Here's the most awaited part two of soulmate?holemate!. I've lost count of how many times I've crashed out during this fic lol. My brain's so fried actually, need to sleep it off.
The summer drags like molasses this year, thick and sticky, every hour stretching longer than it has any right to. Maybe it’s the heat rolling in off the Bloomshore coast, maybe it’s Gran’s ancient air-conditioner wheezing like it’s on its last legs, or maybe—more likely—it’s because you’ve spent the last two days fucking a perfect silicone replica of your gege’s cock in the room right next to his, walls so thin you can hear the creak of his mattress when he shifts in his sleep.
You’re both on the living-room couch now, same faded floral pattern you used to fight over as kids, same throw blanket draped over your knees like nothing’s changed. Except everything has. The space between your thigh and his feels charged, electric, like the air itself is holding its breath. Neither of you looks directly at the other. Your eyes keep sliding to the TV screen—some mindless rerun neither of you is watching—then dart away before they can land on his profile, on the sharp line of his jaw, the way sweat beads at his temple and trails down the side of his neck.
Caleb breaks first.
He clears his throat, the sound rough, like it’s been stuck there for hours.
“Hey, pipsqueak…” His voice is lower than usual, careful. “How’s life out in Linkon? Big city, more people, all that noise?”
He chuckles, soft and awkward, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s nervous. You used to tease him about it. Now it just makes your stomach twist.
“Don’t tell me you don’t miss your gege anymore…”
You glance up—too fast. His cheeks are flushed, a faint pink creeping up from his collar. He looks… shy. Almost boyish. It’s so unfair.
Your own face burns hotter. You look away quick, huffing a breath through your nose like it’ll cool you down.
“How can I not miss you…”
The words slip out quieter than you mean them to. You press your lips together hard, trapping everything else that wants to follow.
You miss him so much it hurts.
You miss you in ways you're not supposed to.
You miss you so bad you shove his dick—fake, warm, veiny, perfect—inside you every night and cry his name into the pillow while you hug that stupid apple plushie he won for you at the fair when you were fourteen. You clamp down around it until your thighs shake and your vision whites out, pretending it’s his arms pinning you, his chest against your back, his breath on your neck. You come so hard you sob, and then you feel guilty for hours, but you still do it again the next night. Because you're broken and you want him and you hate yourself for it.
But you don’t say any of that. You just stare at your knees and let the silence thicken.
Gran’s voice saves you both.
“Kids!”
You jump. Caleb straightens like he’s been caught doing something wrong.
She’s standing in the doorway, dressed in her going-out blouse, small rolling suitcase at her side.
“I’m headed downtown for three days. Something came up. Emergency stuff. You two will be fine, right? Like always.”
She’s said the same thing a hundred times over the years. Back then it meant popcorn fights and falling asleep to horror movies on the couch. Now the words land differently. Heavier.
The front door clicks shut behind her. The sound echoes.
Suddenly the house feels too quiet. Too big. Too empty except for him.
You’re hyper-aware of every inch of Caleb next to you. The sleeveless shirt clings to his chest from the humidity, dark at the collar where sweat’s gathered. His shorts ride up just enough to show the thick muscle of his thighs. His arms—God, his arms—flex every time he shifts, biceps rounding, veins standing out against his skin. He’s broader than last summer, taller, filled out in all the ways that make your mouth dry and your core ache.
You stare out the window at the garden like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking at him.
He notices.
Caleb chuckles again, softer this time, and reaches out. One finger brushes your cheek—light, teasing, the same way he used to when you pouted as a kid.
“Aww, is my meimei sad? Mm… I’m here. We can spend some quality time together—”
The touch is barely there, but it burns straight down your spine. Your whole body jerks away like you’ve been shocked.
Caleb freezes, finger still hovering in the air. His eyes widen.
“Pipsqueak… are you okay?”
You can’t look at him. Your face is on fire, heart slamming so hard you’re sure he can hear it. Your nipples are already tight under your thin tank top, traitorously visible, and you cross your arms quickly to hide them.
“I’m—fine,” you mumble, staring at the floor. “Just… hot.”
He swallows. You hear it—the dry click of his throat. His gaze drops for half a second, catches the outline of your nipples, then snaps away like he’s been burned too.
“Right. Uh… yeah. Hot.” He exhales, rough. “Alright. I’ll be in the kitchen. Lemme know what you want for lunch.”
He stands. The couch dips and rises with his weight. You watch his back as he walks away—broad shoulders rolling under the shirt, the dip of his spine, the way his shorts hug the curve of his ass and the powerful flex of his thighs with every step.
The second he disappears around the corner you clench your thighs together so hard it hurts.
You’re already wet. Have been since he sat down. Since he said your nickname. Since he touched your cheek.
You need a shower. Cold. Now.
You bolt upstairs before you can think better of it, lock the bathroom door, strip in record time. The dildo is already in your hand—pulled from under your mattress like it’s been waiting for you.
The water’s barely warm when you brace one foot on the edge of the tub, line up the thick head, and sink down with a broken moan.
It stretches you open in that perfect, filthy way—veins dragging, curve kissing your front wall, heavy balls nudging your clit on the downstroke. You fuck yourself fast, desperate, water pounding your back, free hand braced on the tile.
“Gege—fuck—gege—”
You don’t even try to be quiet. The house is empty except for him, and part of you hopes—prays—he hears.
Downstairs, Caleb grips the kitchen counter so hard his knuckles turn white.
The second you disappeared upstairs he felt it: that familiar phantom squeeze around his cock, hot and wet and impossibly tight. Then the rhythm starts—fast, shallow, greedy.
He’s hard in seconds, leaking into his shorts, breath coming in short pants.
He glances toward the stairs.
He knows what you’re doing.
He knows because he’s been doing the same thing to your toy every night.
And now you’re both home.
Both alone.
Both breaking.
He doesn’t go upstairs. Not yet.
Instead he leans his back against the counter, the cool edge biting into his spine like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His cock is painfully erect under the thin fabric of his shorts, the obscene bulge straining forward, tenting so hard the waistband digs into his lower abs. Every shallow breath makes it twitch, every phantom slam of your hips upstairs sends a fresh jolt through him. He moans—low, broken, helpless—each sound punched out of his lungs as your rhythm rocks him from the inside out. His knees buckle once, twice; he catches himself on the edge of the sink, knuckles white, hips grinding forward into nothing like he’s fucking the air.
He reaches down without thinking, palm cupping the thick ridge through the cotton. One rough stroke and his head falls back, throat working on a groan. The wet spot at the front of his shorts spreads fast—dark, sticky, obscene. He grinds harder into his own fist, hips rolling in slow, filthy circles, eyes fixed on the mess he’s making, precum soaking through until the fabric clings transparently to the flushed head.
Upstairs, you stand frozen under the cold spray for a long minute, water pounding your shoulders, doing absolutely nothing to dull the ache between your legs. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, still fluttering around the memory of double penetration, still greedy for more. The shower did jack shit. You shut off the water with a frustrated huff, towel yourself off in jerky movements, and stumble back to your room naked, skin pebbled, nipples tight from the chill and from want.
You don’t even close the door all the way.
You crawl onto the bed, legs splaying wide, knees bent and feet planted so you can watch yourself take it. The dildo is still warm from earlier, slick with your earlier mess. You line it up, tease the fat head through your folds once—then slam it home to the hilt in one brutal thrust. Your back arches off the mattress with a choked cry, pussy clamping down like a vice, walls rippling around every veiny inch.
Down the hall, Caleb sucks in a whimper so sharp it hurts. His eyes roll back; he has to brace both hands on the banister to keep from collapsing right there on the stairs. The phantom grip around his cock returns—tighter, hotter, wetter than before—and he knows exactly what you’re doing.
He climbs the last few steps on shaking legs, drawn like a magnet. Your door is cracked open. He shouldn’t look. He knows he shouldn’t.
He looks anyway.
And everything inside him fractures.
There you are—his sweet, innocent meimei—legs spread obscenely wide on the childhood bed you used to share during storms, tits heaving with every frantic roll of your hips, pussy stretched wide around a thick, veiny dildo that looks exactly like his cock. Down to the upward curve, the heavy balls slapping wetly against your ass with every thrust, the flushed brownish-pink head disappearing inside you over and over.
He can see the way your walls cling to it when you pull back, the slick strings connecting silicone to your swollen lips, the way your clit peeks out swollen and red every time you grind down.
“Mmhhh gege! Ahhh gege fuck—need you—mmpphhh!!”
Your voice cracks on his name, back bowing, tits bouncing wildly as you fuck yourself stupid, chasing that edge with desperate, sloppy thrusts. The sheets are soaked beneath you, wet patch spreading.
Caleb’s sure he would have moaned loud enough to wake the whole coast if he hadn’t bitten his lower lip bloody. It’s better than any porn he’s ever seen—hotter, filthier, because it’s you. His pipsqueak. His meimei. Ruining herself on a perfect copy of his dick.
The realization hits like a shockwave.
It was you.
All this time.
The ghost pussy milking him dry every night.
The way it clenched exactly when he needed it.
The way it knew his rhythm, his kinks, his breaking point.
And he’s been doing the same to you.
He shoves his shorts down in one rough yank; his cock springs free, angry red and leaking, veins standing out thick and pulsing. He wraps a fist around the base, strokes once—hard—and has to slap his free hand over his mouth to muffle the groan.
“Mmhh pipsqueak…” he whispers, voice wrecked, hips thrusting into his own grip like he’s fucking you through the doorway. “Such a needy little meimei… arghhh—it was you all along, huh?”
He can see every detail from here— the way your thighs tremble, the way your fingers dig into the sheets, the way you arch and sob his name like a prayer while you slam the toy deeper, chasing the stretch he’s been giving you in secret for months.
And he’s glad.
Fucking glad.
Because it’s mutual.
You out-freaked him first—ordered a replica of his dick and rode it until you cried his name—but he matched you, customized a perfect copy of your cunt and fucked it raw while whispering yours.
You’re both freaks.
Two depraved, lovesick freaks who’ve been secretly fucking each other stupid across hundreds of miles, and now you’re under the same roof with no Gran to stop you.
He strokes faster, matching your rhythm—every time you slam down, he fucks up into his fist. Precum drips over his knuckles, slicking the way. His balls draw up tight, aching.
You’re close. He can tell by the way your moans turn high and broken, the way your hips stutter, the way your pussy visibly flutters around the toy.
He’s right there with you.
One more thrust—yours, his—and you both shatter at the exact same second.
You come with a muffled scream into your pillow, body convulsing, squirting around the dildo in messy pulses that soak your thighs and the bed. The toy stays buried deep as you ride the aftershocks, whimpering his name over and over.
Caleb’s knees finally give out. He catches himself on the doorframe, biting his fist as he comes hard—thick ropes painting the floorboards, his hand, his stomach—while the phantom squeeze of your pussy milks him through every pulse.
He slumps there, panting, cock still twitching in his grip, eyes locked on you through the crack in the door.
You’re still trembling, legs limp, toy lodged inside you, chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
But the door creaks just a fraction wider under his weight.
And your eyes—glazed, wrecked, still teary—slowly lift.
They meet his.
For one endless heartbeat, neither of you breathes.
Then your lips part on a soft, broken whisper that carries straight to him,
“…gege?”
And everything that’s been building for months finally snaps.
You freak out the second your eyes blink from eye contact.
The sheets fly up in a frantic scramble, bunching around your chest and thighs as you yank them to your chin. Your cheeks ignite—burning, scorching hot—while a high-pitched squeak tears out of you like a startled animal.
“What are you—!”
The door, already ajar, swings wider under Caleb’s unsteady weight. He loses his balance completely—arms windmilling for half a second—then crashes forward with a loud, graceless thud, face-planting straight into the floorboards.
You squeak even louder, the sound shrill enough to rattle the windows.
He groans, low and pained, and slowly lifts his head. Blood trickles from his nose in a thin, bright red stream, dripping onto the wood. He blinks once, twice, dazed, then pushes himself up on shaking arms. His shorts are still shoved halfway down his thighs from earlier, so his dick—half-hard, flushed dark, still glistening at the tip—bobs free with the motion, jumping against his stomach like it has a mind of its own.
Your breath snags in your throat, sharp and audible.
You stare. You can’t not staring.
When you’d scrolled through that sketchy website a month ago, trembling and horny and stupid, you’d picked every detail from memory—the exact length you’d felt pressed against your hip during too-long hugs, the slight upward curve you’d glimpsed once through damp sweatpants, the heavy hang of his balls, the thick veins that stood out when his forearms flexed carrying your luggage. You’d thought it was obsessive fantasy.
But seeing it now—in the flesh, real, twitching, leaking a bead of precum that rolls slowly down the shaft—you realize with dizzying clarity—they didn’t just make a replica.
They made an exact fucking match.
Everything clicks into place like a lock tumbling open.
The “ghost” sensations.
The double penetration every night.
The way your toy always seemed to know exactly when he was close, clamping down harder, milking tighter.
The way his phantom cock always mirrored your rhythm, pounding deeper when you slammed down hardest.
Caleb hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly. He notices your wide-eyed stare locked on his cock and flushes darker than you’ve ever seen him—red creeping from his collar to his ears. With a rough, embarrassed jerk, he yanks his shorts back up, the waistband snapping against his hips, but it does nothing to hide the thick outline still straining forward.
“Pipsqueak…” His voice comes out hoarse, cracked, half-lidded eyes dark and glassy. A thin trail of blood slides from his nostril, curving over the bow of his upper lip. He doesn’t wipe it away.
You snap back to yourself with a jolt.
“Caleb—your nose is bleeding!”
You scramble forward on your knees, sheets slipping dangerously low as you reach for the box of tissues on your nightstand. One hand presses a wad against his nose while the other clutches the fabric to your chest—but not fast enough. The sheet drops just enough to bare your breasts again, nipples peaked and flushed from everything that’s happened.
Caleb’s gaze drops instantly.
He stares—openly, hungrily—for one long heartbeat before you yank the sheet back up with a mortified squeak. Only then does he drag his eyes back to yours, pupils blown wide.
“It’s not because I fell,” he rasps, voice thick. “It’s because of…”
His stare rakes down your body again—slow, deliberate—taking in the way the sheet clings to your sweat-damp skin, the dark patch between your thighs where you’re still dripping, the toy still half-buried inside you under the covers. You squeak again, smaller this time, thighs pressing together instinctively.
“Caleb!”
“Okay—okay, I want you to stop freaking out and listen to me—”
You look away fast, heart hammering so loud it drowns out everything else. You don’t know how to explain this. How to admit that you’ve been coming undone on a silicone clone of him for months. That you’ve whispered his name like a prayer while your pussy clenched around fake-him, imagining real-him pinning you down. That you’re terrified of what it means now that the secret’s out.
Who fucks a replica of their gege’s dick?
You do.
You really, really do.
Before you can spiral further, Caleb’s hands—big, warm, calloused from flight controls—cup your cheeks. Gentle. Steady. He tilts your face up until you have no choice but to meet his eyes.
They’re soft. Guilty. Desperate. Everything at once.
“We need to figure this out, okay?” he whispers, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “Wait—I need to show you something.”
And just like that he’s gone—bolting out of your room, bare feet slapping the hallway floor, leaving the door swinging wide behind him.
You’re alone again.
The room smells like sex and shame and him.
Your thighs tremble. The dildo is still inside you—warm, thick, stretching you open—and every tiny shift makes it drag against your oversensitive walls. You clench once, involuntarily, and a fresh trickle of slick leaks out around it.
You can hear him in his room now—drawers opening, something thudding to the floor, a muffled curse.
Your mind races.
He’s going to show you something.
You already know what it is.
A possible pocket pussy.
The one he’s been fucking every night while you rode his replica. The one that’s been milking him dry from three hundred miles away.
And now it’s here in this house with both of you.
You swallow hard, heart in your throat.
The floorboards creak as he comes back down the hall.
You don’t move.
Don’t pull the toy out.
Don’t cover up any more than you already are.
You just wait—sheets clutched to your chest, thighs still spread, pussy still stuffed, pulse roaring in your ears—while the footsteps get closer.
When Caleb steps back through the doorway, holding the black satin box like it’s evidence in a crime scene, eyes locked on yours with something raw and unguarded…
You know.
There’s no going back now.
Not for either of you.
Caleb steps back into your room, the black satin box cradled in his big hands like it’s both a confession and a trophy. He doesn’t hesitate—doesn’t even try to play coy. He flips the lid open right in front of you.
Your eyes blow wide. Your mouth drops into a perfect, stunned little ‘o’.
Nestled inside, glossy and obscene, is the pocket pussy—soft silicone lips parted just enough to show the glistening pink interior. And draped over it, stretched across the entrance like a filthy bow, is one of your missing lace panties. The pale pink ones with the tiny bow at the front. The ones you swore the washing machine devoured months ago.
Caleb—shameless bastard now that the mask is off—hooks two fingers under the waistband and tugs the fabric aside. He drags the pad of his thumb slowly along the outer folds, parting them gently, stroking the slick entrance like he’s petting something precious.
The sensation hits you like lightning.
A surprised, broken moan rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Your pussy clenches hard around the dildo still buried inside you, walls fluttering wildly, fresh slick leaking out around the base.
Caleb flushes darker—cheeks, neck, ears—but his grin is pure sin. He chokes on his own spit when your inner muscles clamp down again, the toy translating every spasm straight to his cock.
“You get it now?” he rasps, voice wrecked.
Your brain kicks into overdrive, thoughts crashing faster than light.
You’d spent months drowning in guilt—convincing yourself you were the only freak here, the only one twisted enough to order a perfect replica of your gege’s dick and ride it until you sobbed his name into your pillow. You’d hated how much you wanted it, how wrong it felt, how right it felt every time you came clenching around fake-him.
But look at him.
Look at your freak of a gege standing there holding a replica of your cunt, wrapped in your stolen panties like some depraved keepsake. He didn’t just buy it—he customized it, scented it, fucked it raw while thinking of you, and then he kept your underwear like a trophy.
“CALEB YOU STOLE MY PANTIES?!!?” The scream explodes out of you, eyes huge, accusatory, betrayed.
He squeaks—actually squeaks—scratching the back of his head with his free hand, sheepish grin wobbling.
“Umm… well… I rescued them to wash but uh… hehehehehe—”
You lunge.
Your fists rain down on his chest, shoulders, arms—smacking him over and over, forgetting the sheet, forgetting the toy still stretching you open, forgetting everything except righteous fury.
“YOU JERK!!! I KEPT BUYING CUTE PANTIES AND YOU STOLE THEM?!??! HOW DARE YOU!!! I THOUGHT THE WASHER WAS EATING THEM!!”
“Ow—ouch—ouch—pipsqueak!”
He’s half-laughing, half-squeaking, trying to shield himself but not really fighting back. The sounds are ridiculous, boyish, so much like the old Caleb that it almost hurts.
Then his arms snap around your waist.
One hard yank and you’re flush against him—chest to chest, hips to hips, the thick ridge of his cock pressing right against your lower belly through his shorts. Your breath punches out of you in a startled gasp.
“I can buy you new ones, yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping low, rough. “Anything you want. But right now… we need to talk about this, meimei.”
The name hits like a shockwave.
You stop breathing.
His eyes are locked on yours—dark, molten, stripped of every layer of pretense. You feel every inch of him: the heat radiating off his skin, the hard planes of his chest, the insistent throb of his cock trapped between you. And lower—the dildo still lodged deep inside you, making your walls flutter every time you shift.
“Take it out, pipsqueak.”
Your cheeks burn so hot you think they’ll combust. You shake your head frantically—no, no, no—too embarrassed to move, too mortified to pull the replica of him out of your dripping cunt while he watches.
Caleb frowns, impatient.
His hand slides down—big, warm fingers wrapping around the base of the dildo where it’s buried in you. He groans low in his throat at the feel of your walls gripping it—gripping him, then yanks.
The toy comes free with a wet, filthy pop.
You gasp sharply—sharp enough to hurt—your pussy clenching around sudden emptiness. Slick gushes out in a messy splash, coating your inner thighs, dripping onto the sheets, making everything even more obscene.
“Come on,” he chuckles, dark and teasing, holding the glistening dildo up between you like evidence. “I know you weren’t shy fucking this replica in Linkon, huh? No wonder the ghost was so needy…”
His eyes drag over the toy—taking in the way it’s coated in your arousal, veins shiny, base slick—and then rake back up your body, slow and hungry.
“I should’ve known it was my naughty little pipsqueak. After all… it’s only meimei who takes this much from her gege, hmm?”
His voice drops to gravel.
You gulp, panting softly, chest heaving. You pout up at him—bratty, defiant—and smack his chest again, weaker this time.
“But… you had a replica of mine too!”
Caleb laughs—low, rough, relieved.
“In that case… I’m guilty too.”
Then he moves.
One step forward and your back hits the mattress. You both go down in a tangle—sheets ripping away completely, your naked body splayed beneath him, still sweaty, still flushed, still smelling like sex and shame and him.
He braces on his forearms, caging you in, face inches from yours.
“Then we should share this sin together, right?”
His hips settle between your thighs. The hard length of him—real this time—nudges right against your soaked entrance, hot and thick and leaking through his shorts.
You whimper—small, broken, needy.
His mouth hovers over yours, breath mingling.
“Tell me to stop, meimei,” he whispers, voice trembling just enough to betray how close he is to breaking. “Tell me and I’ll walk out right now. We’ll pretend this never happened.”
Your hands slide up—fingers curling into his shoulders, nails digging in.
You don’t push him away.
You pull him closer.
“Don’t you dare,” you breathe against his lips.
And that’s it.
The last thread snaps.
Caleb’s mouth crashes down on yours—hungry, desperate, years of pent-up want pouring out in one bruising kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming, tasting, while his hips grind forward, dragging the fat head of his cock through your folds.
You arch up into him with a sob, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper.
He groans into your mouth—raw, wrecked.
“Fuck—pipsqueak—been waiting so long—”
Caleb pulls back just enough to drink you in—really drink you in.
You’re sprawled beneath him like a fever dream: lips swollen and glossy from his kisses, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow pants, eyes glassy and half-lidded with want. His gaze drags down slow—over the flushed peaks of your tits, the soft curve of your belly still trembling from aftershocks, then lower, to where your thighs are parted and your pussy is clenching desperately around nothing. Slick shines on your inner thighs, dripping down toward the sheets in lazy rivulets. The toy’s absence has left you empty and aching, walls fluttering visibly like they’re begging to be filled again.
His whole body burns—not just from the heat of the moment, but from the sheer, dizzying reality of it. His wildest, most shameful dream is right here: you, naked and wrecked and his, finally letting him see you like this. Touch you like this. He’s drowning in emotions—guilt, relief, raw hunger—but he forces himself to focus. He wants this to be good for you. Better than good. He wants to feed every filthy craving you’ve both been hiding, satisfy the hunger that’s been eating you alive for months.
“So pretty,” he stutters, voice cracking as two fingers glide down your slit. He parts your folds gently, watching the way your clit twitches under the lightest brush.
You yelp, thighs jerking inward on instinct. “Caleb!”
He shakes his head, firm but soft. His free hand comes down in a sharp spank to the plush meat of your thigh—hard enough to sting, soft enough to make the flesh jiggle.
“Oh no no no no,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “Don’t go hiding from me now. You’re beautiful, pipsqueak. I want to admire all of you.”
You bite your lower lip hard, cheeks flaming, but you don’t close your legs again. You watch—breath hitching—as his fingers continue their slow exploration: tracing your entrance, dipping just inside to feel how soaked you are, then sliding lower. He gropes one ass cheek shamelessly, kneading the soft flesh before landing another weak, appreciative spank. The jiggle makes him groan low in his throat.
“Aw damn…”
You huff, mortified and turned on in equal measure, and reach up to grab his ear—tugging hard.
He yelps instantly. “Ow ow ow—what’s wrong? Did I hurt you—”
You scoff, cutting him off, and slide both palms under his shirt. Your fingers find the hard planes of his pecs, cupping them shamelessly, thumbs brushing over his nipples.
“Take off your clothes too, dummy,” you mutter, voice bratty and breathless. “I don’t wanna be the only one naked.”
Caleb blinks once—then grins so wide it’s almost stupid, ear-to-ear and boyish despite the filthy situation.
“Fair enough.”
He yanks the sleeveless shirt over his head in one smooth motion, muscles flexing under sweaty skin as it hits the floor somewhere behind him. Next come the shorts—hooked thumbs in the waistband, frantic tug downward. The fabric slides off his thighs and his cock springs free, slapping lewdly against his lower abs with a wet smack.
You gasp—sharp, involuntary.
It’s exactly like the dildo. Down to the last detail: the thick veins, the slight upward curve, the flushed brownish-pink head already leaking, the heavy balls hanging low. Your pussy clenches hard around nothing at the sight, a fresh gush of slick trickling out.
“Like what you see, huh?” he smirks, voice hoarse and wrecked. He grips the base and smacks the fat head against your dripping folds—once, twice—coating himself in your mess.
You whine instantly, hips jerking up. “Ahhh fuck—Caleb—mmmpphhh!!”
But instead of pushing in, he pulls back. You frown, confused and needy—until you see him reach for the dildo again.
With a slow, sinful smile, he lines it up and slides it back inside your tight cunt.
“Hai—ahhhh—Caleb!?!”
You can only stare up at his face—pleasure twisting his features, mouth falling open in a perfect ‘o’—as he pushes the toy deeper. A low, rumbling groan escapes him.
“Fuck… exact feeling…”
He keeps going—slow, torturous—watching your face the whole time while he feeds inch after inch back into you. Your walls stretch around the familiar silicone, fluttering, sucking it in greedily until it’s buried to the hilt again: tip kissing your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush against your ass.
Only then does he stop.
But he’s not done.
He manhandles you with easy strength—big hands under your thighs, lifting you like you weigh nothing. You squeak as he repositions you properly on the bed: flat on your back, head near the pillows, legs spread wide. He climbs over you, straddling your chest, knees bracketing your shoulders.
His cock hovers right above your face—hard, twitching, leaking a fat pearl of precum from the slit.
Your brain empties completely. All you can do is stare: at him, at the dick that’s been haunting your nights for months, now real and inches from your lips.
“You’ll suck it, right baby?” he rasps, voice trembling with restraint. “Mmmh… suck gege’s dick while the replica stretches you open.”
He lowers himself slowly. The swollen head smacks against your lips—hot, sticky, salty.
You open immediately.
Your mouth wraps around the tip, tongue swirling, sucking gently at first. Caleb throws his head back with a guttural sound.
“Ohhh fuck—dual sensation—ahhh… shit!”
His fingers slide into your hair, gripping gently but firm. He starts fucking your mouth in shallow thrusts—careful not to choke you yet, but deep enough to make your eyes water.
“Fuck baby… take it deeper. I know you can—ahh… you’ve been swallowing that dick down your throat, haven’t you? Hah…”
You can barely think—pussy stuffed full and throbbing around the toy, mouth stretched around the real thing, taste of him flooding your senses. But you obey.
Your hands fly up—gripping the firm meat of his ass, nails digging in as you pull him forward. You relax your throat and swallow him to the base in one slow, greedy glide.
Your nose buries into the neatly trimmed, newly shaved patch of pubic hair. His scent—musk, clean sweat, him—overwhelms you. Your eyes roll back, lashes fluttering, fingers sinking deeper into the thick muscle of his thighs while tears of effort slip down your temples.
Caleb’s head snaps back, face contorting in raw pleasure—jaw slack, brows furrowed, a broken moan tearing from his chest.
“Fuck—pipsqueak—good girl—fuck—”
He holds himself there for a heartbeat—letting you feel every thick inch pulsing on your tongue—before he starts to move again.
Slow, deep thrusts into your mouth while the dildo stays buried in your cunt, every rock of his hips making the toy shift inside you just enough to drag against your walls.
You’re stuffed at both ends.
Full.
Claimed.
His.
And he’s not stopping until you both break again.
Caleb keeps fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips—balls smacking wetly against your chin on every deep thrust, the filthy sound echoing in the quiet room. His moans are low and ragged, pleasure ripping through him in waves as your throat flutters around his length, tongue pressing flat against the underside, sucking greedily.
You snap your hips forward uselessly, clenching desperately around the dildo still buried deep in your cunt. The dual fullness—mouth stuffed with real him, pussy stretched by fake him—has you trembling, thighs shaking, slick dripping down your ass in steady rivulets.
That’s when he breaks.
Caleb’s whole body locks up, shaking violently. His fingers tighten in your hair—almost too hard—burying himself to the root until your nose presses flush against his pelvis. A guttural groan tears from his chest as he starts cumming.
Thick, hot spurts flood your mouth instantly—salty, bitter, overwhelming. Your eyes roll back so hard you see stars, throat working frantically to swallow it all, but there’s too much. It overflows the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin in messy strings.
He doesn’t stop.
He pulls out with a lewd, wet pop—cock still jerking—and shoots the last few ropes across your face: warm streaks painting your cheeks, your nose, your swollen lips. You gasp for air, tongue darting out instinctively to lick what you can reach, tasting him everywhere.
Caleb pants above you, chest heaving, staring down at the mess he made. You look wrecked—face covered in his cum, eyes glassy and dazed, lips parted and shiny. He knows he should feel ashamed. He should apologize, clean you up, stop this madness.
But fuck—you look so hot like this it’s rewriting his brain chemistry. Ruining him for anything else.
You flutter your lashes up at him, slow and deliberate, tongue tracing your lower lip to catch another drop. The sight snaps something inside him.
He groans, low and broken, and reaches for the dildo. One rough yank and he pulls it free from your overstimulated pussy.
You arch violently off the bed, hips jerking, a gush of slick squirting out around the sudden emptiness. “F-fuck—Caleb—!”
He stares, mesmerized. “Fuck… you’re so hot, meimei. I think I’m losing my mind.”
You’re panting, trying to catch your breath, body still twitching with aftershocks. Guilt crashes over him like cold water—he reaches for the tissue box on your nightstand with shaking hands and starts wiping your face clean, gentle despite everything.
His cheeks are crimson, burning with embarrassment and leftover heat. “Ah shit—sorry pipsqueak, didn’t mean to… fuck… I’m sorry, okay?”
You just stare up at him—brain fried, body humming—and reach out. Your fingers wrap around his still-hard cock, slick with spit and cum.
He hitches a sharp breath. “Ahhh—oh god—mmhh—”
You give him lazy, teasing strokes, smirking mischievously through the haze.
“I want it, Caleb,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “I want your dick.”
He groans, hips snapping forward into your touch. Hearing you talk like that—filthy, needy—makes him throb harder in your palm.
“Say it again, meimei,” he rasps, voice trembling. “Say it… properly.”
You bite your lower lip, thumb flicking over the sensitive head, circling the slit, smearing precum.
“I want your dick, gege,” you purr, slow and deliberate. “Please?”
You don’t stop. Somehow you sit up—legs shaky—free hand sliding up his arm, over the thick muscle of his shoulder, then flicking his hard nipple. You lick your lips again, eyes locked on his, and climb into his lap.
“Need you inside, gege,” you breathe against his throat. “Not the… toy. Need your dick to fuck this pussy—mmhh!”
Caleb snaps.
Since when did his sweet pipsqueak become this seductive little tease?
He hauls you up the bed in one swift motion—then slams you back down onto the mattress. Not too rough—just enough to make you squeak in surprise, tits bouncing with the impact.
“Fuck—look at that sultry expression,” he growls, voice dark. “You’re such a tease, meimei. Such a dirty girl begging her gege’s dick.”
His palm comes down in a sharp smack against your pussy—wet, obscene. You whine, arching hard, the sting turning into molten heat that makes you even wetter.
“You bought a dildo to fuck this needy little cunt, huh?” Another smack—harder. You sob, mindless, hips grinding back toward his hand. “Used a replica of your gege’s dick to train this pussy?”
You can only nod—whimpering, desperate—grinding shamelessly against his palm.
“Fuck—but who am I to judge?” he chuckles darkly. “I’m a freak too, ain’t I?”
He presses the fat head of his cock to your entrance—hot, leaking, real—and snaps his hips forward in one powerful thrust.
You both nearly scream.
The bed shakes beneath you as he bottoms out—thick, burning, stretching you in ways the toy never could. Your walls clamp down instantly, fluttering around every veiny inch.
Caleb grips the headboard above you, knuckles white, hovering over your body. His other hand slides between your legs—fingers finding your clit, pinching and flicking with his thumb while he watches your face twist in pleasure.
“Good thing is… I don’t have to train you for my dick anymore, hah,” he pants, hips rutting in sloppy, messy thrusts. “You’re nice and ready to take me full… fuck… I never thought—”
He throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut. Tears well at the corners—not from pain, but from too much everything: pleasure, relief, fear.
He’s terrified he’ll cry in front of you. Terrified you’ll disappear when this ends. Terrified he’ll lose you after finally having you.
So he fucks you deeper—hands roaming everywhere: groping your tits, spanking your ass, squeezing your thighs. Rough, unpracticed, desperate. He can’t help it. He’s never done this before—not like this, not with anyone.
Suddenly he stops—mid-thrust, sweat dripping down his chest in rivulets. He looks down at you, panic flashing in his eyes.
“Hey—hey hey hey, pipsqueak… hah… are you like—feeling actually good? Like… or…”
His whole face is on fire. He gulps, vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.
Your brain is too fried to process deeply. You just grin—mindless, blissed-out—and grind back against him with a small, innocent smile.
“Mmhh… best big brother ever…”
Caleb’s mouth falls open. He chokes on a laugh—or maybe a sob—then shakes his head and goes back to fucking you.
He’ll ask when you’re sober. Right now you’re too drunk on his cock to think straight.
He finds your clit again—rubbing tight circles—and feels the telltale shiver in your hips. You’re close. He can see the faint bulge in your lower belly every time he bottoms out, and it makes him shy and so fucking turned on at the same time.
The fact that he’s claiming you like this—fucking you so deep you’ll feel him for days—makes his head spin. He prays this isn’t a fever dream.
His own brain is melting from the pleasure, the sensation, the sight of you taking him so perfectly.
He reaches down—presses the heel of his palm against the bulge in your belly—and pushes.
Both your eyes roll back at the same instant.
Broken moans spill from your tongues as you cum together—hard.
You squirt violently—soaking his cock, his abs, the sheets in messy arcs—walls clamping down like a vice around him.
Caleb comes with a shattered whimper—hips stuttering, spilling inside you in thick, endless pulses until it leaks out around his base, dripping down his balls and onto the ruined bed.
He collapses next to you—breathing ragged, eyes half-focused and glassy.
After a long moment he reaches over—gentle now—brushing damp hair off your face. A soft, satisfied smile curves his lips.
“Thank you…” he whispers, voice hoarse and raw.
You turn your head—still panting, still trembling—and press a lazy kiss to his palm.
“Gege…”
He pulls you close—bodies sticky, tangled, hearts hammering in sync.
Caleb’s hand comes up slow—almost reverent—caressing the side of your face, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone like he’s memorizing the texture of your skin. His breath hitches when he feels the warmth, the realness of you still flushed and glowing against him. A low, stuttering rumble escapes his chest.
“Did you… like it, pipsqueak?”
You’re draped over him now—breasts cushioned against the hard plane of his chest, cheek pressed to the thick swell of his pec, listening to the thunder of his heartbeat slow. You grin lazily, voice cracked and hoarse from all the moaning, all the screaming his name.
“I fucking loved it, Caleb.”
His smirk falters—just for a second—something soft and vulnerable flickering in his eyes. His thumb circles lazy patterns over your hipbone, the touch grounding and possessive at once.
“Me too.” He swallows. “I thought I was pushing things too fast… making it uncomfortable since I’ve never—”
Your eyes shoot open. You half-scream, half-gasp, bolting upright so fast your tits bounce against his chest.
“WAIT—you… YOU MEAN YOU WERE A VIRGIN?!?!”
Caleb’s whole face ignites—crimson flooding from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut in pure mortification, but the corner of his mouth twitches upward in a faint, sheepish grin.
“Yeah yeah… first time got my dick wet. Kinda nervous.”
You beam—bright, wicked, delighted—and crash your mouth to his in a messy, giddy kiss. Then you’re scrambling off him, lunging for your phone on the nightstand.
“Wait—lemme take a picture of us losing our virginities together!”
Caleb’s mouth drops open. You were a virgin too. The realization hits him square in the chest—funny, warm, possessive—and a smug grin spreads across his face before he can stop it.
You flip the camera to selfie mode, crawling back into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. His arms snake around your waist immediately—tight, claiming—pulling you flush against him while you stick your tongue out in a naughty little pose.
“Say cheese!”
He looks straight at the lens—smug as hell, eyes half-lidded and dark with leftover lust—while you giggle and snap the photo.
Caleb huffs softly after, nuzzling into your neck. “You better not show this to anyone.”
You wiggle your eyebrows mischievously. “Oh, I’m gonna show it to any guy who’ll bother me like—you should be scared of my big brother.”
He wheezes—chokes on his own spit—and bursts out laughing, arms squeezing you until you squeak in protest.
“Diabolical.”
His palm comes down in a light, playful spank on your ass—watching the flesh bounce with open delight.
“You’re a menace to society, you know that?”
“I get it from you.”
You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips back slow—grinding your slick folds along his still-hard cock. He groans low in his throat.
“Fair enough.”
He dives back in—kissing you deep, tongues tangling messy and hungry. You both moan into each other’s mouths, hands roaming, relearning every inch now that the barrier’s gone.
“Fuck… I’m gonna miss you when I go back to Skyhaven…”
You grin against his lips, crawling higher up his body until you’re straddling his chest. Your hand wraps around his cock—still slick, still leaking—and guide the head to your mouth.
“That’s what the toys are for, gege.”
You hum as you wrap your lips around him again—slow, teasing—tongue swirling over the sensitive slit. Caleb lets out a low, rumbling moan, hips twitching up into the wet heat of your mouth.
“Ahhh… I almost forgot…”
His fingers slide down—two thick digits pushing into your dripping pussy without warning. You moan around his cock, the vibration making him curse under his breath.
“Three days left… fuck, I can’t get enough of you, meimei…!”
Neither can you.
The next three days blur into one long, feverish haze.
You fuck like rabbits—hours bleeding into hours, positions changing, surfaces shifting—bed, floor, shower, kitchen counter when Gran’s still gone, even on the old couch in the living room where you used to watch cartoons together as kids.
He eats you out until your thighs shake and you’re crying his name.
You ride him slow and deep until he’s begging.
He pins you against the wall and fucks you standing until pictures rattle on their hooks.
You suck him off in the hallway while he tries—and fails to stay quiet.
Every time one of you starts to flag—exhausted, sore, spent—the other just reaches over, touches, whispers filthy encouragement, and the fire reignites.
Even after Gran comes back—bags in hand, cheerful questions about your “quiet week”—you keep sneaking.
Late-night tiptoes down the hall.
Muffled moans pressed into pillows so she doesn’t hear.
Quick, desperate fucks in the bathroom while the shower runs to cover the sounds.
His hand over your mouth while he grinds into you from behind, whispering “quiet, meimei, or Gran’ll hear how much her good girl likes her gege’s cock.”
When the vacation finally ends, you stand on the platform watching the train to Skyhaven pull away.
Caleb leans out the open window one last time—hair mussed, eyes soft and dark—and presses a final, lingering kiss to your lips.
“Be good,” he murmurs against your mouth.
You grin, wicked. “No promises.”
The train starts moving. He disappears down the track.
You stand there until it’s gone, thighs clenched tight—still feeling the fresh load he stuffed you full with this morning before dawn, warm and thick and leaking slowly down your inner thighs under your skirt.
You shift your weight—feel it drip a little more—and smile to yourself.
Three hundred miles apart again. But the toys are waiting. And now you both know exactly what the other needs. You turn toward your apartment in linkon, already counting the days until the next break.
⚘. summary Ꮺ You ordered a custom dildo that perfectly matches your big-brother-figure Caleb’s dick. Caleb ordered a pocket pussy that perfectly matches your's. Neither of you knows the toys are synced to the real thing. Now every time one of you fucks your toy, the other feels it—like ghost sex on steroids. You’ve both spent months thinking you’re being haunted by the supernatural while secretly fucking each other senseless through the wall. The feedback loop goes haywire. No one is surviving this vacation with their sanity intact.
⚘. content warnings Ꮺ pseudocest, og cn gege/meimei trope, heavy dubcon, masturbations, unsolved sexual tension, zero communications, guilt, denial, forbidden desires, sexual frustration, mutual yearning, usage of sex toys, magical sex toys that secretly link to other person's body(portal panties), mutual fucking, semi-public/public, double penetration, extreme tightness + involuntary orgasms, excessive cumming/squirting, porn with little no plot . . .18 + ★ MINORS DNI !
⚘. wc Ꮺ 6k+
⚘. cherry’s note Ꮺ this is probably the weirdest scenario I've written so far... took me some real good TIME to finish...
“And that’s the last box,” you huff, letting the cardboard thud against the scuffed hardwood near the doorway. You straighten up straight, rolling your shoulders, wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist. The tiny apartment looks like a warzone of luggage and flat-pack furniture Caleb swore you “absolutely needed”—his credit card, his orders, his quiet, stubborn way of still taking care of you even when he’s hundreds of miles away.
Linkon City air tastes different. Sharper. Lonelier.
You’ve been here three weeks and it still doesn’t feel like home. Maybe it never will without him barging through the door, scolding you for leaving dishes in the sink or for forgetting to eat again.
A sigh slips out as you kick off your sneakers. Shower first, chaos later.
Clothes hit the floor in a careless pile. The bathroom is barely big enough for one person, but the water pressure is perfect—hot, punishing, exactly what your sore muscles crave. Steam fills the cramped space, fogging the mirror, swallowing every reflection that isn’t you.
You tip your head back, letting the spray pound against your throat, your collarbones, sliding down between your breasts. The heat loosens something inside your chest.
Caleb’s face flashes behind your closed eyes uninvited. Always uninvited, yet always there.
Sharp jaw. Tired eyes that soften only for you. The way his pilot uniform hugs his shoulders now that he’s filling out, taller and broader every time he comes home on break. The way he still calls you “little pipsqueak” even though you’re not little anymore.
You shouldn’t.
You really, really shouldn’t.
But your hand is already moving, gliding over slick skin, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your navel, lower.
“You must’ve felt this heavy too, gege…” you whisper to the steam, voice trembling with guilt and something darker. “All alone in Skyhaven… in that big empty house with no one to—”
Your fingers slip between your thighs, parting swollen folds, finding yourself already soaked and it has nothing to do with the shower.
A broken little sound escapes as you circle your clit, slow, teasing, the same way you’ve imagined he would if he ever—God—if he ever let himself unravel like this.
“Mmh… gege, are you worried about me?” The words come out filthy, breathless, wrong in the best way. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone too?”
You press two fingers inside yourself, curling, pumping, thighs shaking. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit and your hips jerk forward like you’re fucking your own hand, like you’re chasing a ghost that wears his face.
You’ve never touched each other. Not once. Not beyond lingering hugs that lasted too long, not beyond his thumb brushing your cheek when you cried after graduation, not beyond falling asleep on his shoulder during long flights home and pretending both of you didn’t notice how neither moved away.
But you know.
You both know.
“C-Caleb—” His name cracks in your throat as you come undone, clenching hard around your fingers, knees nearly buckling. Water pounds over you like it’s trying to wash the sin off your skin, but it can’t reach the stain inside your chest.
You stay there until the water starts to cool, forehead pressed to the tile, panting, ashamed, and still aching for him.
Because even an entire city apart, even with new lives and new rules and the Hunter Academy waiting to swallow you whole tomorrow—Caleb is still the only home you want to go back to.
And you’re terrified he wants to come back to you too.
You step out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but steam and guilt, skin still tingling, cheeks flaming hotter than the shower ever got. Droplets race down your neck, your spine, between your ass cheeks; every trickle feels like a reprimand. You don’t even bother with clothes. You just belly-flop onto the bed, wet hair fanning across the pillow, and immediately start flailing like a dying shrimp.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” you hiss, kicking the sheets, punching the mattress, rolling side to side until the towel finally gives up and falls open. You lie there spread-eagle, panting at the ceiling like it personally offended you.
You miss your stupid, overprotective, stupidly hot gege this much.
It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.
You need to do something about it before you lose the last shred of your sanity.
With a groan you drag the laptop Caleb bought you—matte black, way too expensive, has a little fighter-jet sticker he slapped on the lid as a joke— onto your stomach and flip it open. Fingers hover over the keys for half a second before shame loses the fight.
You type: “best sex toys for beginners”.
The screen explodes with color and silicone and words like “thrusting” and “suction” and “10 vibration patterns”. Your eyes go wide.
“Oh WOW…”
You scroll, jaw literally on the floor, until you hit the prices and wheeze. Eight hundred dollars for a rabbit vibrator? Who has that kind of money? Certainly not a broke freshman hunter living off instant noodles and Caleb’s guilt-money transfers.
You slam the laptop shut, fling yourself backward again, and whine at the ceiling.
“Too broke for that… damn, I can’t even get a proper dildo shoved up into my pussy, life is unfair—”
Ding ding.
Your phone lights up on the nightstand. Unknown number. A link.
Normally you’d ignore it. Today you’re desperate and dumb, so you squint, see “70% OFF FLASH SALE!!” in screaming red letters, and click before your brain catches up.
The site that loads is… questionable. Neon pink, flickering banners, probably one virus away from stealing your soul. But front and center is a product that makes your heart stop.
“Upload a photo, choose vein pattern, pick warmth settings; experience the exact cock you’ve always dreamed of.”
Your mouth goes dry.
There’s a little heart icon that says “Most Wishlisted Item of the Year”.
You shouldn’t.
You really, really shouldn’t.
But your finger is already over the “Customize Now” button and your thighs are already squeezing together remembering how your own fingers felt pretending they were his.
Ten minutes later you’ve uploaded the clearest photo you have of Caleb—him leaning against the cockpit of his fighter, flight suit half-zipped, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. You pick the length you’ve definitely never measured in your head while hugging him goodbye, the exact girth your dirty imagination has circled back to for years, the upward curve you’ve caught a glimpse of once through his sweatpants and never recovered from.
Veins: raised, prominent, just like the ones on his forearms when he carries your luggage without breaking a sweat. Warmth setting: “always hot, like he just worked out”. Internal texture: “tight but yielding, the way you bet he’d feel if he ever snapped and pinned you down.
The total, with the sketchy discount, is suspiciously low. Delivery: 3–5 days, discreet packaging.
Your finger hovers over “Place Order”. Morals scream. Pussy throbs harder. You hit the button before you can talk yourself out of it.
Order confirmed. You drop the phone like it’s on fire, roll facedown into the pillow, and muffle a scream that’s half horror, half unbearable anticipation.
In three to five days, you’re going to fuck a perfect replica of the cock belonging to the one person you’re never, ever supposed to want.
And you already know you’re going to call it gege while you do.
Five days of checking the mailbox like a lunatic. Five days of that stupid website 404-ing every time you tried to track the order. Five days of punching training dummies with your entire soul while screaming internally about getting scammed out of your last paycheck for a ghost dick.
“FUCK, IT WAS A SCAM!” you snarl, slamming an uppercut into the dummy’s throat so hard the stuffing starts leaking, “WHAT WAS I THINKING!”. Your squadmates give you a wide berth, whispering. Whatever. Let them think you’re unhinged. You are unhinged.
Then your phone buzzes against your hip. Package delivered.
You don’t even wait for the instructor to dismiss you. You just bolt, boots pounding pavement the whole way back, lungs burning, sweat cooling on your neck in the evening air. The second the apartment door slams behind you, you spot the box.
Plain brown. No labels except your name in printed font. You drop to your knees like a woman possessed, nails clawing at tape, ripping cardboard like it owes you money. The lid flies off. And you stop breathing.
Nestled in black satin is the most obscene, perfect, terrifying cock you’ve ever seen.
It’s huge. Stupidly, ridiculously huge. Thick veins snake up the shaft, only these are flushed dark, pulsing faintly with the built-in warming tech. The head is that deep brownish-pink, flared and glistening from whatever hyper-realistic coating they used. Heavy balls hang low, weighted, shifting slightly when you nudge the box.
You don’t remember setting the length slider this high.
You don’t care. Your mouth actually waters.
“Oh wow…” It comes out strangled. You fall back onto your ass, legs splayed, staring at the thing like it might stand up and walk over to you itself. “Oh my god.”
Your pussy clenches so hard you feel it in your throat.
You haven’t even taken your sweaty training gear off and you’re already dripping down your thighs.
You pick it up with both hands—jesus, it’s warm, heavier than expected and the second your fingers close around the shaft it pulses again, like it knows who it belongs to.
Like it’s been waiting for you just as long as you’ve been waiting for him.
You press the thick head against your cheek without thinking, dragging it down to your lips, breathing in the clean, new-silicone scent mixed with whatever insane tech makes it smell faintly like his cologne.
“Fuck, gege…” you whisper against the tip, voice cracking.
The toy throbs in your grip like it heard you.
You have never sprinted to lock your bedroom door faster in your life.You don’t make it to the bed.
The second the lock clicks you’re already peeling off your sweat-soaked clothes, sports bra flung somewhere, shorts kicked aside, panties dragged down your thighs and left dangling off one ankle. The toy is still in your grip, hot against your palm, veins pulsing faintly with the internal heater like it has a heartbeat.
You drop to your knees on the rug, legs spreading wide without shame, back hitting the edge of the mattress. The thick head nudges your lips and you open instantly, greedy, tongue flattening against the underside as you take the first few inches into your mouth. It’s too big; your jaw aches immediately, drool already spilling down your chin, but you force yourself deeper, gagging softly, eyes watering.
You pull off with a wet pop and a broken moan.
“Need you inside me, gege… please—”
You flip onto all fours, ass in the air, face buried in the sheets that still smell like the detergent he used to buy for both of you back home. One hand reaches back, guiding the fat tip through your soaked folds, coating it, teasing your clit until your thighs shake.
Then you push.
The stretch is obscene. Your pussy flutters, resists, then gives all at once. A strangled cry rips out of you as the first half sinks in, thick veins dragging against your walls, that perfect upward curve kissing spots you’ve never reached with your fingers. You claw at the sheets, hips jerking back on instinct, taking more, more, until your ass meets the heavy silicone balls and you’re stuffed so full you can’t breathe.
“F-fuck—Caleb—”
You pull forward until only the head remains, then slam back. The impact makes you scream into the mattress. Again. Harder. Faster. Your tits bounce with every brutal thrust, nipples dragging against the rug, thighs slapping against silicone like they’re slapping against his hips.
You lose count of how many times you fuck yourself on it. You lose language. All that exists is the wet, filthy sound of your cunt swallowing him, the burn in your thighs, the way your clit throbs every time the base grinds against it.
You flip over, legs thrown wide, knees hooked over your elbows so you can watch. Watch the way your pussy lips stretched thin around his cock, watch it disappear inside you again and again, slick coating everything, dripping down your ass, pooling on the floor.
“Look what you do to me, gege,” you sob, voice wrecked. “Look how wet you make me—how empty I am without you—fuck, I’m such a slut for you—”
Your free hand flies to your clit, rubbing frantic circles, and the orgasm barrels into you like a freight train. You squirt, actually squirt, a gush that soaks the toy and your thighs and the rug beneath you. Your walls clamp down so hard the dildo almost slips out, but you shove it deeper, riding the aftershocks, grinding, crying his name like a prayer.
You don’t stop.
You can’t.
You pull it out only long enough to flip the toy around and shove the slick head against your ass, teasing, not quite brave enough yet, but the thought alone makes you come again, smaller this time, a full-body shudder that leaves you gasping.
When you finally collapse, the dildo is still buried to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around it in lazy pulses. You’re trembling, sweaty, ruined. Tears and drool and cum smeared across your face and chest.
You reach down blindly, fingers brushing the base, and give it one last slow thrust just to hear yourself whimper.
“…come home soon, gege,” you whisper to the empty room, voice hoarse. “I don’t think this is gonna be enough anymore.”
The toy stays inside you the rest of the night. You fall asleep clenching around it, dreaming of the real thing finally splitting you open.
—
—
Skyhaven, DAA parade grounds, 18:47 local.
Caleb is standing at parade rest, flight jacket crisp, medals gleaming, trying to look like the perfect poster boy for the Deepspace Aviation Academy while the brass drones on about honor and vigilance. The formation is dead silent except for the wind whipping the flags.
Then it starts.
A faint tingle at the base of his spine. He shifts his weight, ignores it. Probably just nerves.
Gideon elbows him from the left. “Dude, you good? You’re sweating bullets.”
Caleb forces a laugh, teeth clenched. “Yeah, just hot in this jacket.”
The tingle turns into heat. A slow, syrupy, pooling right behind his balls. His cock twitches once, then again, harder, like someone just wrapped a fist around it and squeezed.
He locks his knees to keep from swaying.
The sensation climbs. Something slick and impossibly tight slides down his shaft, inch by inch, swallowing him whole. His breath stutters. The wet spot blooming at the front of his dress pants is impossible to hide now; he angles his body behind the guy in front of him, praying nobody notices.
Another squeeze. A rhythmic drag. Something soft and spongy kissing the tip over and over and over.
His vision whites out for half a second. He breaks formation without permission, muttering a choked “bathroom” to Gideon’s startled face, and bolts.
He barely makes it to the nearest restroom, slamming the lock, back hitting the door as his trembling fingers rip his belt open. The second his cock springs free it’s flushed angry red, leaking like a faucet, veins bulging exactly the way you spent hours customizing.
He doesn’t even touch himself.
He doesn’t have to.
The feeling slams into him again: tight, wet heat clenching around him, riding him hard, fast, merciless. Invisible hips slam down, grind, pull up, slam down again. His balls draw up so tight it hurts.
“F-fuck—!” The moan tears out of him; he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back, hips jerking into empty air like he’s fucking someone bent over the sink in front of him.
Every thrust feels real. Too real. He can feel slick walls fluttering, a cervix nudging the head on every brutal stroke, the phantom slap of skin on skin he’s never actually heard but somehow knows by heart.
His knees buckle. He grips the porcelain with white knuckles, forehead pressed to the cool mirror, panting like he’s running a marathon.
“Ah—shit—stop—please—” he doesn’t even know who he’s begging.
The pace only gets rougher.
He comes without warning, a broken cry muffled against his own arm, thick ropes painting the sink, the mirror, his dress shirt. His cock jerks and jerks like it’s being milked by a throat, a pussy, something greedy and possessive and familiar.
The orgasm doesn’t stop. It rolls straight into another, smaller but sharper, and his legs finally give out. He slides down the door until he’s sitting on the cold tile, cock still half-hard, twitching with aftershocks, cum dripping down his fist even though he never stroked himself once.
Chest heaving, he stares at the mess in dazed horror. “What the fuck was that…?”
Three hundred miles away, you’re still sprawled on your bedroom floor, impaled on the toy, whispering his name like a prayer while it throbs inside you.
Neither of you has any idea the link goes both ways. Yet.
Every night for the past ten days it’s the same ritual.
You stumble through the door still in your sweat-drenched hunter uniform, kick off your boots, and don’t even bother with the lights. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, clothes hit the floor in a frantic trail. You’re already soaked before you even touch the toy, thighs slick, pussy throbbing like it’s been counting the hours until you get home to it.
You keep the dildo in the top drawer now, wrapped in one of Caleb’s old flight academy T-shirts like a dirty little secret. The moment your fingers close around the warm shaft it pulses, eager, like it missed you just as badly.
And three hundred miles away, Caleb starts sweating through whatever he’s doing.
Day 4
You ride it reverse on the desk chair, feet planted wide, rolling your hips slow and deep just to feel every vein drag inside you.
In Skyhaven, Caleb drops an entire tray of coffee in the cadet mess, doubles over the table with a choked gasp, thighs clamping together while his cock leaks helplessly into his boxers. Gideon has to drag him out by the elbow while Caleb stammers something about food poisoning.
Day 6
You’re on your knees in the shower, toy suction-cupped to the tile, slamming back onto it until your ass is red and the water runs cold.
Caleb’s in the middle of a night-flight simulator run. Mid-loop his whole body locks up; he yanks the stick too hard, fails the exercise, and spends ten minutes curled in the cockpit seat coming untouched while the instructor screams over the headset.
Day 8
You can’t wait anymore the second you get home. You don’t even make it to the bedroom. You drop onto the hallway floor, legs over your head, fucking yourself with both holes now—the replica so slick from your pussy it slides into your ass easy. You scream his name until your voice cracks.
Caleb’s in the barracks laundry room folding clothes. One second he’s fine, the next he’s on the floor, biting his own forearm to stay quiet while his cock jerks and feels violated by invisible forces. He comes so hard his vision blacks out. When he can move again he finds the crotch of his pants soaked front and back and has no explanation.
Day 10
You’re greedy. You strap the toy to a pillow, mount it like you’re riding him for real, hands braced on the headboard, hips snapping down so hard the bedframe slams the wall in rhythm.
“Gege—fuck—harder—please, I need—”
You sob it into the dark, tears streaking your cheeks, pussy gushing all over the silicone balls.
In Skyhaven, Caleb is supposed to be asleep. Instead he jerks awake in his bunk with a wounded sound, sheets twisted around his hips, cock so hard it hurts. The sensation hits like a punch: tight, wet heat swallowing him to the root, grinding, milking. Something inside him —his ass—clenches around nothing and everything at once. He shoves his face into his pillow and comes instantly, whole body convulsing, biting down so hard he tastes blood.
When it finally fades he’s shaking, drenched in sweat, heart hammering like he just ran ten miles.
He drags a trembling hand down his stomach and finds his cock still-hard cock slick with his own release and something else—slicker, warmer, smelling faintly smelling like you.
For the first time, real fear cuts through the haze. Because whatever is doing this to him isn’t random. And it’s getting stronger every night.
Caleb hasn’t slept properly in twelve days. Every night the “ghost” comes back. Every night it rides him harder, tighter, wetter, like it’s learning exactly how to unravel him.
He’s stopped trying to fight it. He just locks his door, shoves his face into his pillow, and lets the phantom cunt milk him dry while his cock leaks and his ass clenches around nothing and his brain short-circuits with the same voice that’s haunted him since puberty.
Your voice.
He’s started jerking off to the memory of it in the showers, biting his own fist so his bunkmates don’t hear him whimpering “pipsqueak” like a prayer.
He’s losing his fucking mind.
So when he’s alone in the dorm common room at 0300, half delirious, cock still half-hard from another unsolicited orgasm, he does the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life.
He googles the symptoms.
Ends up on the same neon-pink, virus-looking website you found weeks ago.
The banner screams: FEEL LIKE SOMEONE YOU LOVE — NOW WITH REVERSE SYNC!
He doesn’t read the fine print. He’s too tired, too desperate, too turned on.
He uploads the clearest photo he has of you—last summer, you in that sundress, laughing at something he said, hair sticking to your sweaty neck.
He customizes everything with shaking hands,outer lips soft and plump, exactly the way he’s imagined a thousand times when you walked around the house in tiny sleep shorts. Inner walls textured like crushed velvet, tight at the entrance, then fluttering deeper. Clit hood pronounced, sensitive node swollen —because he’s spent years pretending he doesn’t notice how you squirm when he hugs you too long enough. Warmth setting: “always soaked, like she’s been thinking about you all day.” Scent module: the exact peach-and-vanilla body wash you’ve used since you were fifteen.
He pays triple for overnight shipping. The box arrives two days later while the entire barracks is out on a weekend training hike. Caleb locks himself in his room, heart hammering like a jet engine.
He tears the packaging open with his teeth. Inside, nestled in black satin, is the prettiest pocket pussy he’s ever seen.
Soft, dusky outer lips, flushed pink inside, already glistening with the self-lubricating gel. It’s warm to the touch, pulsing faintly like it’s breathing.
He exhales a broken “fuck… so pretty…” and runs two fingers down the seam, parting the lips gently. The toy quivers. A bead of lube rolls out like it’s already wet for him.
He doesn’t make it to the bed.
He drops into his desk chair, sweatpants shoved down to his hips, cock springing out thick and flushed and already dripping. He drags the head through the slick folds once, twice, coating himself, groaning at how realistic it feels.
Then he pushes in.
The sound that rips out of him is inhuman.
Tight, hot, velvet walls clamp down instantly, sucking him deeper like they’ve been waiting years. The inner texture ripples around his shaft exactly the way he’s fantasized your pussy would—fluttering, squeezing, dragging over every vein.
He bottoms out in one brutal thrust and his vision whites out.
“Fuck—pipsqueak—” he chokes, hips jerking helplessly. “Is this how you’re supposed to feel? So good—so fucking real—”
He starts slow, savoring it, pulling out until just the tip kisses the entrance, then sliding back in with a wet squelch that makes his balls draw up tight. The toy makes obscene sounds—soft, wet, exactly like a real cunt taking cock—and every noise goes straight to his spine.
He loses control fast.
Hands gripping the desk, he starts pounding into it like he hates it, like he loves it, hips snapping hard enough to rattle the chair. The pocket pussy sucks him back in on every stroke, walls fluttering wildly, clit hood bumping his pelvis on the downstroke.
“Take it—just like that—fuck, you’re so tight for me—”
He doesn’t notice the way the toy seems to clench harder when he says your nickname. Doesn’t notice the way it gushes fresh slick every time he groans “good girl” under his breath.
Three hundred miles away, you’re in the middle of a lecture at the Hunter Academy when your body suddenly locks up. A phantom cock—thick, burning hot, veiny—slides into you from nowhere. Your pen clatters to the desk. You slap both hands over your mouth to stifle a scream as invisible hips slam forward and bury something huge to the hilt inside you.
Your pussy spasms around empty air. Your clit throbs like someone’s grinding against it. Your chair creaks as your thighs snap together, trying to trap the sensation that isn’t there and is there all at once.
The “ghost” fucks you right there in the lecture hall, in front of thirty other cadets, relentless and deep and merciless.
You cum biting your own wrist so hard you leave teeth marks, tears streaming down your face, soaking through your panties and the seat beneath you while the professor drones on about wanderer migration patterns.
Back in Skyhaven, Caleb’s losing his mind in a different way.
He’s hunched over the desk now, one hand braced, the other brutally fucking the toy up and down his cock, chasing the edge.
“Gonna—fuck—gonna fill you up, pipsqueak—take every drop—”
He comes with a guttural shout, hips stuttering, cock pulsing so hard the toy overflows. Thick ropes of cum spill out around his shaft, dripping down the silicone lips, painting his fist, the desk, his thighs.
The pocket pussy keeps milking him through it, walls fluttering like it’s trying to drain him completely.
He slumps forward, forehead pressed to the cool wood, panting like he’s run a marathon.
The toy gives one last gentle squeeze… almost affectionate.
And somewhere far away, you’re curled in the academy bathroom stall, legs shaking, pussy still twitching with aftershocks, a flood of cum you didn’t make leaking out of you in thick, warm pulses.
You both whisper the same thing at the exact same second, voices hoarse and wrecked and terrified,“What the fuck is happening to me?”
—
—
The entire summer break is a slow-motion torture.
You arrive at Bloomshore first, two hours early because the Academy let out sooner than DAA. Grandma hugs you so hard your ribs creak, pinches your cheeks, stuffs you full of peach cobbler and gossip. The childhood house smells exactly the same: sun-warmed wood, sea-salt breeze, the faint lavender sachets she still keeps in every drawer. Your old bedroom is untouched, posters curling at the corners, the same twin bed you used to share with Caleb when thunderstorms scared you.
You dump your suitcase, unzip it, and there it is: the dildo, wrapped in one of his old flight-school hoodies like contraband. It’s been two days since you last used it and your body is already twitching, thighs pressing together every time you remember how it feels.
You shove it under the mattress and try to be normal. Then the front door opens downstairs and you hear his voice.
“Gran squeals, “Caleb, my handsome boy!”
You freeze halfway down the stairs.
He’s… bigger. Shoulders filling the doorway, hair longer and tousled from the wind, sunglasses hooked in the collar of a white T-shirt that clings to his chest. He’s grinning at Gran, but the same crooked smile that’s been haunting your wet dreams for months.
Then his eyes flick up and find you. “Hey, pipsqueak… and Gran.”
Your stomach flips so violently you almost trip on the last step. You launch yourself at him anyway, because that’s what you’ve always done. He catches you mid-jump like you weigh nothing, arms banding around your waist, laughing low in his chest as you collide.
“Yup, gege’s here. How’s my meimei doing in Linkon, hm?”
The second his palm settles on the back of your head, petting like when you were kids, every filthy memory slams into you at once—the toy stretching you open, the way you sobbed his name into your pillow, the phantom cum that leaked out of you for days afterward.
Your face ignites. You feel the heat of his body through his shirt, the flex of his biceps as he holds you, the faint cedar-and-jet-fuel scent that is just him. You jerk away like you’ve been electrocuted.
“Huh… me? …oh… uh… good! I’m doing… good!!!”
Your voice cracks on every syllable. You practically sprint past him, suitcase banging against your leg, and disappear into your room so fast you almost take out the coat rack.
Caleb stands there frozen, arms still half-raised, cheeks flushed crimson for reasons he refuses to examine.
Gran raises an eyebrow. “You two are acting mighty strange.”
He clears his throat, grabs his own duffel, and mutters something about needing a shower.
That night neither of you comes down for dinner.
You lie in your childhood bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck on the ceiling together when you were ten, thighs clenched so tight they ache. You can hear him moving around in the room next door, the creak of his old mattress, the low thud of his bag hitting the floor.
You wonder if he brought it too. You wonder if he’s touching it right now. Across the wall, Caleb is wondering the exact same thing about you.
Both toys are hidden under respective mattresses, pulsing faintly like they know they’re finally under the same roof as their match.
The air-conditioner rattles. Crickets hum outside. The house is asleep.
Neither of you sleeps a wink. And somewhere in the dark, two identical warming circuits kick on at the exact same moment, waiting for someone to break first.
The first night back home, the dam breaks at 2:17 AM.
You’ve been tossing in your childhood bed for hours, sheets tangled around your ankles, thighs slick and aching from the constant low thrum of need that started the second you heard his laugh downstairs. The house is silent except for the distant crash of waves on Bloomshore’s cliffs and the faint creak of floorboards in the next room.
He’s right there.
Walls so thin you can hear him breathing if you press your ear to the plaster.
And under your mattress, the toy waits, warm and heavy and calling to you like a siren.
You give in with a muffled curse, fishing it out, fingers trembling as you drag it between your legs. No prep. No teasing. You’re already dripping, have been since that hug, so you just line up the fat head and sink down in one brutal slide.
The stretch is immediate and vicious, your pussy clenching around silicone veins like it’s starving. You bite your pillow to stifle the moan, hips rocking slow at first, savoring the drag, the way it kisses your cervix on every grind.
In the next room, Caleb jolts awake with a strangled gasp.
His cock—already half-hard from dreams of you—suddenly feels like it’s being strangled in velvet. Tighter than ever. Hotter. Wetter. The phantom walls clamp down so hard his vision spots, every ridge and flutter magnified tenfold, like whatever’s fucking him is twice as desperate tonight.
He scrambles for his duffel under the bed, yanking out the pocket pussy with shaking hands. No way he’s enduring this alone. He shoves his boxers down, spits into the toy’s slick entrance, and thrusts in without mercy.
The second he bottoms out, you scream into your sheets.
It’s like a second cock slams into you alongside the first—thicker, hotter, splitting you open from the inside. Your walls flutter wildly, stretched beyond reason, the dual sensations overlapping in a filthy symphony: the toy’s familiar curve grinding one spot while the phantom one drags against another, both pounding in perfect sync.
“F-fuck—gege—what—” you whimper, confused and wrecked, hips jerking up to meet nothing and everything. Your clit throbs like it’s being sucked, your ass clenches around air that feels full. You shove the dildo deeper, faster, chasing the burn, tears leaking down your cheeks as your body tries to process being double-fucked by ghosts.
Caleb’s teeth sink into his own bicep to keep from roaring loud enough to wake Grandma.
The toy is a vice. His cock feels like it’s being crushed in the best way—walls so tight they might snap him in half, rippling and milking with every brutal thrust. It’s wetter than before, slick gushing out around his shaft like the thing is coming alive, and every time he pulls back it sucks him in harder, deeper, the inner texture fluttering like a heartbeat.
“Pipsqueak—shit—too tight—gonna break me—” he growls through clenched teeth, one hand braced on the headboard, the other fucking the toy up and down his length so fast his arm burns. His balls slap against silicone with every snap, heavy and aching, the pressure building so intense he’s terrified he’ll black out.
You both lose track of time, separated by one flimsy wall, fucking your toys in frantic rhythm without knowing you’re fucking each other.
For you, it’s endless—the dildo splitting your pussy while the invisible cock mirrors every move, stretching you to your limits, making you gush so hard the sheets are soaked beneath your ass. You come once with a muffled sob, clenching around both, but it doesn’t stop—the sensations only amp up, phantom veins dragging inside you, a second head nudging spots that make your toes curl.
“More—gege, please—fill me up—” you beg the dark, fingers flying to your clit, rubbing frantic circles while you slam the toy home again and again.
Caleb hears something—a faint, wrecked whine through the wall—and it snaps his last thread.
He flips onto his back, legs spread wide, and fucks into the pocket pussy like a man possessed. The tightness is agonizing now, walls constricting so hard around his cock he swears it’s going to cut off circulation—hot, pulsing, fluttering like it’s alive and greedy and his. Every thrust sends sparks up his spine; his free hand claws at the sheets, hips bucking off the mattress.
“Take it—fuck, just like that—my good girl—” he rasps, voice hoarse, imagining your face, your body, the way you’d look split open on him for real.
The orgasm hits you both at the same instant.
You arch off the bed with a silent scream, pussy spasming around double fullness, squirting in thick arcs that drench your thighs and the toy. The phantom cum floods you—hot, thick, endless—leaking out around the dildo, pooling between your legs, making everything slicker, messier.
Caleb comes with a guttural “fuck—pipsqueak—” bitten off against his fist, cock jerking so hard the toy overflows instantly. Cum spills everywhere—his stomach, the sheets, the silicone lips stretched thin around him—but the walls keep milking, squeezing tighter than humanly possible, wringing every drop until his balls ache and his vision tunnels.
You both collapse in sweaty, trembling heaps, toys still buried deep, aftershocks rippling through you like shared electricity.
The wall between your rooms might as well not exist.
But neither of you moves. Neither knocks. Neither dares whisper the truth.
Instead, you pull the covers over your ruined body, the dildo still twitching faintly inside you, and pretend your heart isn’t pounding loud enough for him to hear.
Next door, Caleb does the exact same, cock softening in the vice-grip of the toy, a single thought looping in his wrecked mind,
Synopsis. Do you want to change the world? Do you see those poor, endangered hybrids and wish you could do something to help them? Join us now at www.HYBRIDBR33DINGPROGRAM,69 to help your hot local hybrids put a baby in you!
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, hybrids AU, pheromones, knots, bréeding, FÉRAL JJK men, matíng presses, fuII neIsons, fíngering, spítting, p talking, p sIapping, chokíng, HEADLOCKS, aIpha!Toji, manhandIing, making it fit, creampíes, marathons, Iactation (Sukuna), mates, dúmbifícatíon, cúmfIation, cúmpIay, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. Tony’s backkkk with delicious things piled up for you babygirls heheh-
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Wolf
“So now I have to warn you-” You’re turning your head towards the primly-dressed lady that was leading you through the maze of corridors.
She’d been the first to meet with you after weeks of interviews and medical exams and waiting around the telephone ever since you’d entered…the program. Your match-maker, almost. With an appointment finally set up, you made your way through the official-looking building.
Listening to her intently as she debriefed you on the hybrid you’d been set up with. “-the hybrid we have paired you with, according to your sheet and your scent vials, is a wolf hybrid.” She looks at you closely, “An alpha wolf hybrid.”
Your heart races, “Oh.”
“And as you may know, alpha wolves are quite known for their…intense…ruts.” The two of you stopped before a tall door, it almost looked like a hotel entrance. “But the thing is- with this speciman, Toji, you’re the first one he’s ever accepted during his rut.”
“Oh.”
She rattles off something about how your scent was the only one he’s ever reacted to, how ever since then he’d been dying to meet you. Thrown into the throes of his rut all over again, practically. Clawing at the walls. Restless.
And before you know it, the door is opening and you’re being ushered inside. Left alone. With him.
Toji’s feverish body is on you immediately.
He’s gasping you in. Gnawing on your neck. Pressing his hips against yours like he was trying to meld your two bodies together—
“Oh, pretty doll…” The straight line of his nose drag-drag-draaaags down the side of your scent glands, huffin’ in your sweetened scent. “Pretty, pretty doll.” Breath hitching, Toji pins you harder against the wall and you feel something so long and rock-fucking-hard crush up against your front. “Do you have any fucking idea how long I’ve been waitin’ for ya? I could smell you the second you stepped in the building- fuck, damn near broke down these walls to find ya myself.”
“O-oh.” Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull as you get an impression of his sheer size. Tall. Hulking. He really was a wolf hybrid through and through, tail swishing impatiently behind him. “You’re so…big.”
So swollen with need that the mere feeling of your warm body made him twitch.
And the thing is- he could smell your cute cunt getting wetter. Guttural voice whispering against your ear, “And you’re not walking outta here until you take every single inch.”
In just a few split-seconds, you’re on the bed by the corner of the room. You’re on all fours. You’re being pushed down by one of his clawed hands knobbled on top of your scalp, manhandling you.
His giddy weight hovers over you, rasping to himself. “Won’t be- hah, walking outta here at all, actually.” His abs plaster against your back as he leans over to kiss down the line of your spine. “Gonna- fuck, make you forget how to walk.” Smooch after sultry smooch. Open-mouthed. “Gonna hafta fuckin’ carry you outta here- oh, m’gonna ruin you, mama.”
You’re squealing at the top of your lungs when his fingers slither down to tear off your sticky panties. Weavin’ the fabric between his digits, he brings it up to his flared nostrils and sniffs.
A great, big whiff that makes Toji’s scarred mouth drop into a soft ‘oh.’
“F-fuck-” He’s wrenching out a primal grunt, just catching sight of your glistening hole. “Oh my-”
Cutting himself off by spitting down onto your wettened pussy, the line of saliva smacks against your slit and drips down in a puddle.
And he wasn’t just spitting from behind - Toji was drooling. A thin line of it trickling down the side of his curved lips as he immediately spreads your sheeny thighs, immediately ruts against the folds of your cunt.
Immediately let his thick, globular tip start swipin’ his way inside your pussy.
“Oh-oh my god…” Toji’s head falls once he starts easing inside, husky baritone breaking mid-sentence. And your toes curl at the incredible feeling of his plump, puckered tip squeezing all inside your snug entrance. Shoving inside. Bullying inside. You clench and you think he damn near shivers- “Wait o-ohhhh, go easy on me, lil’ omega.”
“Omega?” You’re questioning, “You can tell?”
“Oh fuck, I don’t even know right now, doll- just hold on- let me…” The gluey surroundings of your cunt were just sucking him up. Swallowing. Each heavy inch being slid inside—and Toji wasn’t just thrusting, he was rutting.
Just to fit inside. Just to feel more n’ more of your velvety walls sucking him up - you swear you can feel the exact moment the line of his swollen tip grazes your g-spot and Toji himself breaks.
“Oh my god- fuck, oh my god, it can feel this good?” His stern lips wobble, that sleazy smile from before nowhere to be seen now. And there’s a slight tinge of madness in his voice, one that makes his gruff tone pitch higher.
And suddenly you’re being reminded that this was the first ever time that he’s spent his rut with anyone.
He was just so sensitive. “No- no, that should be fuckin’ illegal.” Toji grabs the back of your neck and pulls you back into his vein-covered cock. “It can’t be- it c-can’t—”
Letting your drippin’ wet pussy sloppily sluuuuurp back into his long, long length. Toji has the audacity to swipe the pair of panties in his hands down where your syrupy wetness was smearing. Drenching it just a lil’.
Before bringing it back up to his nose and sniffing, hazy peripherals rolling to the back of his head. He spreads apart his meat thighs even further and moans out as he pushes. “Who the fuck let you hold out on me for this long, huh?”
He was going crazy. He was drilling into you like a madman.
Again and again and again.
Not even waiting for you to adjust. Not even faltering. Heavy, half-thrusts to open up every drivelling orifice inside your cunt. To pinpoint even your tiniest hidden spots with his strawberry-red divot- fuck, it was almost like he was out of control.
So was this what it felt like to be…pussydrunk?
Toji feels you slipping away with the recoil of his jackhammers and he uses his inhuman strength to jerk you back up to him.
You’re choking out, “I wasn’t- fuck.” You’re grabbing ahold of the silken sheets, bucking your hips stupidly into his. The lewdest squelches ring out every time you do, synchronizing with your own sinful noises. “S’not my fault.”
“Then whose is it, hm?”
He moves his left hand over to spank the side of your ass cheeks, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth lolls open stupidly upon impact and he bends over to spit straight into his wide-open target.
“Tell me- hah, tell me, little omega.” He’s tightening his hold on your throat and you yelp. Absolutely useless against the way his vein-covered girth stretches out your every nook n’ cranny, his rose-colored tip was pushing even deeper into your gooey insides. “Who let you hold out on me? Who said this pretty pussy could f-feel so good? Where the fuck have- you- been- all my life?”
“I don’t- ngh, could’ve found me sooner- ngh, then.” You’re biting back, your mind dizzy with all these questions and his thrusts. And oh, he liked that.
Having you talk back to him like that - it only made his thick length swell up even further, making your pussy let out such a carnal squelch once he finally, finally pistons towards the back of your cervix.
Slick and tight.
The probin’ push of his mushroomy tip drives deep, like he was trying to burrow into your very lungs. His globular end is driven in, in, in—all round n’ achingly hard, filling you out from the inside so much that you swear you could see stars.
Fuck, he’s gnawing down on the edge of his bottom lip and staring. Taking hefty gulps of the pheromones you were letting out each time his creamy cock pistoled back in.
“Mmm, you’re right.” Toji snickers. And he gives the wobblin’ side of your ass cheek yet another mean swat, leaving it there for a few seconds to grope you. “You’re s-soooo fuckin’ right, mama. Always are, hm?” Oh, he was thoroughly pussydrunk - to have such a big, proud alpha admit defeat? Fuck, he might just kneel at your feet next.
You’re whimpering once his thumb reaches over to swipe down your treacly slit, pressing down on your clit. “Oh yeah? M’right after I manage to- hck! take it all?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say all…” Wouldn’t say all? In shock, you swivel your head around and catch Toji’s filthy, filthy grin. The way he was looking down at where the two of you were connected with half-lidded eyes. “There’s just a-” The hybrid crushes his toned v-line against you. “-little more.”
And that’s when you feel it.
That’s when you realize it: with Toji being a wolf hybrid, his prolonged length won’t be the only thing you have to take. You forgot about the plump, thickened knot at the base of his cock - pulsing wildly away where he kissed your pussylips with it.
Toji growls, “You’re not walkin’ outta here without carrying my pups, mama.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Jaguar
“Are you alright, my love?” The blond-haired man hushes out from above you just as soon as his thick, reddened tip manages to bulge against your cervix. Manages to bottom out. Hot and sultry. Just drippin’ with fresh wads of precum and need.
He’s running his thumb down the side of your temple, tenderly wiping away a few trickles of sweat. “Breathe in– breath- atta girl. This pretty pussy of yours feeling, mmm, alright?”
Your hips buck with a whimper once he grazes his roverin’ fingertips down your swollen slit. Teasing rolling over your sensitive clit so you’ll make those pretty, pretty noises for him once more. “Yes- hck! fuck fuck fuck, yes, Kento. You can keep moving now…”
“O-oh.” His handsome maw drops. And something in him seems to shake at the very notion. Something in him seems to crack. You watch as Nanami’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs, his throat parched. “Keep moving, darling?”
“Mhm—” You’re nodding, brows furrowing. “That is the whole point of the program, after all- isn’t it?”
NAME: NANAMI KENTO
AGE: 27
OCCUPATION: OFFICE WORKER
HYBRID TYPE: PANTHERA ONCA
You’d read his profile multiple times. You could tell from the very second you’d been escorted inside this tidy bedroom that Nanami Kento was the predatory type. The type that could break you in half. The type that could leave you without the ability to walk for weeks at a time without even trying - and yet, he was treating you like glass.
So gently.
Nanami had spent hours overstimulating your poor, bawlin’ pussy before you’d even started taking his incredible size. Spent hours tugging n’ prying apart your delicate pussylips just so that he could fit each solid inch.
His girth was so massive that the mere feeling of him bullying inside your gooey channel, molding you to him, made your toes curl.
Your nails clawing down the expanse of his broad back as you pull him even closer to you, “C’mon Kento.” You jut out your lips into a pout, and he shivers at the sight. You’re just so sensitive. So needy that you could cry. “Don’t you wanna, ngh, breed- oh fuck!”
He’s shutting you up.
He’s roughly pulling back his powerful hips to strike the ends of your pussy with a great, heaving thud! Coating your cervix with a few stringy wads of pre, his curly blond hairs tickling your clit.
Anything. Everything just to get you to—
“Sh-shut up—” Nanami unhinges his sharp jaw just to puff out, his clouded breath hitting your face. And then he’s gasping, then he’s realizing what he’s just said and fighting back a groan.
Slowing down the ravenous cadence of his hips to something slow n’ sensual. Nanami cups your cheek, biting down on his wobbly lower lip. “F-forgive me.” He begs, “I spoke out of turn- I- hngh, acted out of turn.” He’d just gone out of control.
The thought makes you wetter - and Nanami’s nose crinkles at the sweetness as he can smell it. “But m’not complaining, y’know?” You’re insisting, arching your hips up into his. It was just so cute that he was so considerate, but you wanted something…rough. “I wouldn’t mind if you-”
“Don’t.” He cuts you off. And you’re suddenly getting punished by a thorough few probes of his circular, wet tip against the roof of your pussy. “Don’t talk out of this pretty pussy, darling. You don’t know what m’capable of-”
“I do.” Batting your teary lashes, “I read all your profiles—promise! Did my own research, too. I just want you to- hngh, use me, Kento.”
Something in him looks like it had just snapped.
He whispers - barely even audible to you. “U-use…”
And you’re nodding furiously, slidin’ away your plush walls to meet his every thrust. Now, Nanami’s tempo had grown slightly harder, slightly out of time—slightly like his restraint on himself was slowly slipping away. So you let out the finishing blow - “Wan’ you to use me as your hngh! cumdump, please?”
Fuck, you’d even added manners.
Nanami Kento was gone.
Nanami Kento was ruined.
Nanami Kento was throwing your legs over his muscular shoulders in a second - fuck missionary, he was putting you in a damn mating press. Snapping his hips down until your capped knees hit your tits, and his globular cocktip scrapes your womb.
So hard that you swear he’s leaving nail marks on your skin, your hamstrings stretching like never before, a few of your joints popping!
With a few slurping sounds, he’s fucking his girth into with thud after thud after thud. Looong, rapid thrusts that leave you with your mouth comically ajar, spit drivelling out pathetically. Puddling. “Yes-” You whine, white-hot pleasure running through you. “Yes yes yes- just like this, Ken, ngh-”
“Ah ah-” And suddenly, one of his firm hands finds its way ‘round your throat. Blocking off your airway, “Shut up and fucking take it since you wanted to so bad.”
You’re whimpering- “But it feels so- oh.”
Only for Nanami to lunge over and sink his lengthy canines against the side of your throat, “What did I say?” He murmurs, the vibrato of his bass making your skin tremble. A stern tone. “Cumdumps don’t talk.”
Fuck.
Again and again.
You press your lips together, trying to hold back all the broken crackles and pleas that threatened to break through each time Nanami was pummeling away his massive length. Red-hot. Ravenous. He throbbed all the way near the clingy bottom of your pussy, drenching it in so many webs of his sap.
Flooding each tight orifice inside you, forming your heart-shaped cunt around him- and then barely even letting you squirm after each recoil of his thrusts. Barely letting you bounce away.
Weighing down on you. Glissading his abs. Every time you moved, he’d tighten his arm on your throat and drag you back.
Another one of his strong hands slides down your front - he’d been tenderly massaging your core before. Now the hybrid only pushed down where he could feel his thick cylindrical length probin’ through, feeling for himself as he fucked you.
“Oh, yes. Remember what you hah- asked for, my love- fuck, I mean…” Harder. Firmer. Nanami was pinpointing your every sweet spot with wads of precum so rudely, “-my pretty, pretty cumdump.”
You’re shrilling as he leans in with a purr to nuzzle your throat, one of his wild slams slaps your cervix so hard that you think your eyes pop out of your skull. “I-ngh, keep going like that and I’ll-” Forgetting that you weren’t supposed to speak - and if you couldn’t listen to him, he’d make you silent.
He’s spitting straight between your jabbering lips, swiping away the purposeful splatter on the edge of your lips. “Cumdumps cum quietly.”
And you’re so far gone that you aren’t just cumming with a few more vulgar strokes - you’re splashin’ out and squirting. Soaking splosh after splosh of your miry high, it sticks to his tannish skin and creates a tiny pool between your bodies.
Nanami was pistoning away oh-so-frenzily, and he expected to hold you down so that you could stay. So that you could take it.
Each n’ every one of your peaks being pounded through by his rovering cock.
Your pupils swirl maddeningly, body shaking with the twitches of your orgasm. “Mmm, didn’t know cumdumps could squirt, too.” He snickers rudely as you see stars, your vision shattered. And before you know it, he’s emptying out a few droplets of precum into your womb - you swear his twitching knot at his base only grew fatter. Oh, he was just getting started.
“Wh-what do you mean?” You’re whining up at him, with wide eyes—shit, did he say that out loud?
Nanami smiles a sleazy smile, his long canines peaking out. “M’cumdump needs to be full of cum now, doesn’t she?”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Sssnake
The slithering slurps were just lecherous.
Each time after Geto slid his flexible fingers in and out of your folds, tapping the slick-glazed tips against your inner thighs. “Hmmm…that should do it. Don’t you think, gorgeous~?”
“Sh-shit-” And for just how calm, cool, n’ collected he was - you were practically shattered. Feeling the sparks of your high escape right under your nose, Geto had edged you for about the fifth time tonight. Ruthlessly. You clamor to hold onto his wrist, “You’re so mean, Sugu- fuck-”
“Oh, so you don’t want my cock?” His dark brows furrow, faux-pouting. And oh, you damn near shed a few tears at the way he’s dragging his puckered cockhead between your folds, before pulling away—“Alright, guess I can give this pretty pussy just my fingers then-”
“N-nooo—” You sob out, “Please-”
“Ssso you don’t want my fingers either, huh?” Pretending to gasp, pretending to drive you to the end of your sanity (he actually was). “Well then I can just go and tell the organizer that you’d rather have another hybrid- f-fuck.”
You’re not even thinking twice - you’re not even hesitating before you suddenly press against Geto’s toned body. Pinning him down. Straddling his naturally chiselled hips and letting your ready cunt siiiink down his fat cock.
Oh.
He was just so thick, n’ covered in so many winding veins that tickled your sensitive insides. Extra. “Oh my god- I m-meant that I want your, ngh, cock in me.” You’re blurting out, your head throwing back dazedly. “Want you all up inside- ngh.”
“Oho?” And serpentine hybrids weren’t just sly - you’re coming to find out that they knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to use their numerous snaking tendrils.
Before you know it, Geto drags his gigantic tail around your waist to pin you down to his pelvis. Human for most of his body, but his true form did peak out during times like this. “Sss’that so?” He’s humming out, grin widening. “So is it my mating season or is it yours, gorgeous?”
“Y-yours–” You mewl out, stubbornly. After all it had been you that was specifically assigned to the massive boa constrictor to help him through his season of need. His heat.
His time of year that makes him all but whimper the very instant Geto’s slick cock starts fucking in and out of you. In smooth, long thrusts - there’s so much power behind his actions that the front of your pussylips start to bruise already.
Geto’s brows furrowing as he hisses between his fangs, “Mhm, then why don’tcha act like it, hmmm–?” Hitting your g-spot dead-on, your hips move restlessly and his tail pins you down immediately. “Drippin’ so much, sucking me up like such a ssssslut.”
He’s smiling oh-so-meanly as he pokes and probes you every hidden spot. Not just your g-spot, it’s like he’s somehow mazing his vein-decorated cock everywhere. Anywhere.
Again and again.
His slimy, curved tip sticks against the edge of your cervix and makes you whine.
“Take me so well like this n’ I might just give you my second cock, gorgeous.”
Your eyes snap open, “S-second?” And without another second of hesitation, you tilt your head down and- oh, lo and behold, there was a line along the middle of Geto’s happy trail. Right where his rock-hard erection was, a second length was starting to perk upright. Two.
Two needy shafts that filthily kissed your hole, the more you’re bouncing atop him- the closer his weeping cockhead gets. Anticipating. Eager.
“Mhm, didn’t you know?” Geto tuts, “Serpentine hybrids tend to have double the cocks-” And suddenly, he’s swipin’ aside your puffy folds to take a gooood, long look at your clamping hole. “-double what this sssslutty pussy wants. And if you’re good- heh, I’ll give it.”
“I’ve been so good.” You beg, your hand reaching for his double shafts- only for Geto to slap it away.
“I just gave you my first and now you want my second?” He rolls his dazed amethyst eyes, “Try riding this one ngh, proper and we’ll see about-” Oh, he doesn’t even have to finish his damn sentence to have you gyratin’ your hips wildly.
With your sultry figure-eights swerving and swerving.
Faster. Harder. You arch your spine into the perfect curvature and let his textured length stir against your cute pussy. Filling out your every nook n’ cranny—“I am, see-” Spit splashes down your chin, and Geto’s forked tongue comes out to lap at it. “T-taking it- ngh, they paired me with you so that means I must be able to take a second-”
“‘Must’, hmm–?” It was just so fun to tease you. To slow his bucking hips down and watch as your trembling, needy body ruts down animalistically to chase his globed tip. “And so that means-”
“Yes-”
“-that you must take my kids, riiight?” He narrowed his greedy gaze, and you’re struck with the sudden thought - oh, mating season. Geto was going to fuck you pregnant.
He was already pounding upwards like he aimed for it. Already shoved the fat crown of his shaft to poke your womb, so hard that you’re sure to feel that soft flesh bruise. Thudding. “That you’re gonna- mmm, let me cum inside you with both my big, fat cocks.” You feel a hot splash against your outer pussy, and realize that he’s holding his matching length with one hand. Angled straight towards your entrance- “Let me fill you up until you can’t even remember your name—”
“O-oh my god-” Your pupils swirl in the whites of your eyes, feeling the circle of your cunt get stretched out maddeningly. Like elastic, he was probin’ away his honed cocktip inside. “Yes- wan’ it please, Suguru-”
“Actually-” As he slightly stalls his cadence, “-can you even remember your name? Right now?”
You don’t even care at this point. Don’t know anything but the way he was filling out your geysering orifice with such wet slurps, “I don’t know I don’t know- just want it-”
“So you can’t even remember your name?” Seething, voice pitched even higher. There was a sort of crazed glimmer in Geto’s peripherals when he realized the effect his double cocks had on your poor body. Your poor self. “C-can’t believe- hah! You seriously don’t fuckin’ remember your own name? My cocks have that much of an effect on you, hm?”
Push after push. Now he’s a solid few inches inside your velvety cunt and you think you might just cum from the sheer stretch of him. The way he was holding you down- one hand plastered on top of your sweaty scalp now.
Geto’s using his strength to force down his swollen shafts, his zig-zagged veins pliably letting him slither his way in-
“S’okay, gorgeous.” He’s finishing off once his matching tips bottom out with two matching thwacks! All the way opening up your womb- “You don’t need any other name- hah, there’s only one you need.”
“And wh-what is that—?” You shiver once his pointed fangs trace your skin, scorched breath panting out.
“My mate.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bunny!
“P-please, I’ll be good…” Choso’s broken whimpers grace your eardrums like the prettiest song, and he’s also letting off such lewd slurps any time he tap-tap-taps his red, swollen cockhead against the front of your pussy.
So loud. So filthy. The twitchy hybrid smears aside the drops of cum that were on top of your folds, like some white glaze.
His half-lidded eyes look down at the mess he was making and he groans, feeling his mouth start to salivate at the sight. “Mmm, so delicious, baby.” Before you can respond - before you can even think - Choso has the audacity to swipe his fat thumb down your slit and dab on a bit of sap for him to suck. “Won’t you let me- hah, fill this cunt up all over again? Please?”
And oh, you’d heard of the incredible prolonged stamina that bunny rabbit hybrids have - you just didn’t expect it to be like this.
Because it’d been hours since you were led into this very room by the organizer lady. Hours since you’d first met the hybrid you were paired up with, and had him cream his poor pants simply by his first kiss with you.
Hour since he’d first begged to put his cute, flinchin’ cock inside and fucked you like he never ever wanted to pull out.
Still rutting into you like such an animal- the slightest half-thrusts that leaves him whimpering. “P-please?” Choso whines, his handsome cheek staining with a line of tears. “Do you need me to beg on my knees again, baby?”
Your breath hitches, “I’m just wondering whether you aren’t- hah, tired yet, Cho? I’m sure it’s already ahem- taken, so to speak.”
“Oh, but we won’t know for sure now- will we?” And of course you wanted him more. Of course you still teased him. Watching his doey, brown eyes tear up, long ears flopping. “And m’not dead yet so- don’t worry, no matter how many times I cum, my cock is always- ngh, hard for you, baby.”
And he meant it.
He was slightly pulling out of your geysering hole - fuck, it almost killed him to - rutting and humping into your wettest depths wildly. He wanted to get you pregnant badly.
And as soon as you’re nodding needily for him to go on- Choso immediately perks his toned hips back n’ plunges inside your cunt once more. His ruby-red cocktip swipes aside your dewy walls, and as soon as his hulking size swivels inside, Choso groans.
He gasps.
He throws his head back and can’t stop himself from fucking cumming all over again, just from feeling your cutely heart-shaped walls.
You squeal as you feel his hot syrup fill you out from the inside, sploshin’ against all the other wads of cum he’d left over hours prior. “Sh-shit—” You’re clawing down his pale back, sure that it was ravaged with so many lines of red by now. “See? What did I tell you, Cho-”
“And what did I tell you?” He whimpers out, tears beading in his widely-opened eyes. “No matter how- haaaaah, many times- I- cum-”
Each one of his words was punctuated by a rugged thrust. Not only was he fucking in his treacly wads of seed inside, he was also draaaagging every ridge n’ line of his shaft along your sweetest spots. Leaning in close so that he can nibble on the underside of your jaw. Whispering. “-I’ll always be hard for you, baby.”
“O-oh my god—” Your eyes sprint all the way to the back of your skull - because Choso was fast. A rapidly slamming tempo that left his own pelvis all red. Nails digging deeper. “Shit, it feels so—Cho, are you crying?”
He’s blinking back his tears. “Fuck-” So overstimulated. So rubbed raw on the channel of your cunt that he found himself hatching out sobs at the back of his throat. “I didn’t, ngh, realize…I am.”
It’s only then that Choso’s fully registering himself.
The way his back was bleeding with how hard you were latching onto him. The way he could barely focus his dilated eyes. The way that every time he harshly pistoned his cock into you, Choso’s entire body twitched with something primal.
Your pussy was so good that it’d overstimulated him to tears.
You gasp as you notice the state he was in - and he only swabs his plumpened, red tip even harder. “I don’t mind, baby, m’just a little- n-ngh, sensitive right now.” Choso reassures, and you move your hand down from his muscular back to his waist. “Promise I can still fuck you all- oh.”
Only for your trembling fingertips to graze - just graze - his fluffy bunny tail. And oh- if you thought he was sensitive before, then Choso was so sensitive there that he damn near whimpers.
“D-don’t touch me like that~” He’s whining from the back of his throat, core tensing and flexing each time he drilled forwards. Faster. Filthier. “Don’t blame me if it makes me go even harder, okay, baby?”
“Well, m’not to blame. You’re the one that insisted.” You’re biting back.
And a dopey grin spreads across his face, “I did.” It was almost like he was reminiscing just moments prior. Chasing the softness of your pussy, he veers forwards and thumps your cervix loudly. “H-heh, n’ I think I’m gonna…oh…cum again.”
“A-again?” You gasp - you just felt so damn full. Stuffed all the way to the brim, glittery wads of cum spill out of you every time he’s thrusting in. And yet- fuck, and yet Choso still wasn’t done.
Still wasn’t letting up. Still wasn’t slowing down once he leans down to kiss your puffy lips. Your own high was nothing more than a few tingles, driving you half-mad with pleasure when you feel his glissading tip pulse against your cervix. “Did you just- oh, cream ‘round my cock?” He shallowly breathes, “Again?”
You can only nod and nod.
And Choso can only crinkle his nose in bliss, his entire body shaking viscerally when the mere notion throws him over the edge once more.
“O-oh.” He pants out, “Gonna blame me for, ngh, cumming so much when s’your fault.” Before you know it, you feel scorched wetness flood your cunt once more. It’s all sticky, gluing your pussylips together with his ivory sap.
And Choso fucking beams as he watches the glaze of it seep out of you and drench his dark happy trail. Creating a puddle of wetness that he swipes his hand down, lovingly.
Before reaching up and pressing on the cum-inflated bulge he was fucking into your tummy.
“Please give me a baby, baby–?”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - BULL
You’re stopped in your tracks just before you can open the door.
That official-looking lady who’d accompanied you now held onto your hand, her expression of slight concern breaking the cool façade you’d been met with ever since you entered the program. She says, “I must make sure you know- you only need to give us a call, and we’ll be here in a second.”
“Yes?” You question her sudden worry.
“Oh, it’s just that-” She looks over your shoulder, as if trying to make sure that whoever was inside (the hybrid you’d been assigned to, Sukuna, you heard) couldn’t hear. “-we’ve had many candidates get paired with this particular hybrid, and all of them had broken off the pair before a match could be made. It seems he really needs help - he’s desperate with his rut.”
You’re furrowing your brows, “How come?”
She shuffles uncomfortably in front of you. “See- it’s just that this speciman seems to be a little…big.”
“Oh.”
“And rough.”
“Oh.”
“And he has certain attributes that often put him a step above other hybrids- especially ones in rut.” She explains to you, and your hand trembles on the door handle. “So, just letting you know-”
THUD-THUD-THUD!
It sounded like a storm. Like a whirlwind. Like something just broke down the polished, mahogany door in front of you - and left you dwarfed next to the towering bull hybrid you’d been paired up with. You don’t know what type he was; but he was over eight feet tall, pink hair, covered in swirlin’ black tattoos, with a massive bulge in his thin, off-white trousers.
Oh, he was in rut alright.
You look behind you- only to find that your escort had already disappeared.
And before you could register a single thing more, the hybrid- Sukuna has one of his four hands wrapped around your wrist. Tugging you inside the room. Manhandling.
All but tearing into your flimsy skirt- “Fuck.” He spits, between his clenched canines - you notice with a jolt that he had a piercing through his septum. It glimmers in the dim lighting as he huffs raggedly in and out, “Fuck- you’re gettin’ wet, aren’t ya?”
“I-I am?” You gape, affronted.
He sniffs at your throat and snickers, “Oh yeahhh, you are. In fact-” With only a single, sharp riiiip he’s torn off your drenched panties. Absolutely gone. And he breathes in even deeper, “-yer ovulating, mama.”
You didn’t know bulls could smell that - hell, you didn’t know any hybrid could smell that.
But before you can even think of asking him anything of the sort, Sukuna has your thighs smeared apart on his meaty hips, your cunt being speared thoroughly by his thickened shaft.
Right then n’ there on the bedroom floor, he’s taking you.
His round, bludgeoning tip entering your tiny hole- the stretch of it surrounding your pussy is incredible. A sheer sting that renders your eyes closed, your mouth speechless - meanwhile Sukuna’s just jerking his hips back and pushing and pushing. “Fuh-fuuuuck!” You shrill pathetically, feeling him open up even your most hidden orifices and head straight towards your womb. “Oh- oh my god, who let you be so damn ngh- big?”
“You’ll say—” Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrow in amusement, and he uses one of hands to flick at your swollen clit. The other two lacing on top of your scalp and tuggin’ you down roughly, “-and yet- you’re the only one to take me like this.”
“Th-the only one?” You gawk.
“The only one ta even make it this far.” He snickers, before interrupting himself with a gulping gasp of your scent. “And I’ve never smelled a human so- mmmm—” Sukuna grins and- oh, and now you’re realizing that he has two mouths.
One on his face, the other slashed across his heavily chiselled abs.
“-so delicious.”
Shivers run down your spine, “And what do I need to- ngh-” Your entire body felt weak with the way he was fuckin’ you oh-so-vulgarly open. Your pussylips were pried apart to the maximum, dribbling wet ribbons of slick. “-to help you through this rut of yours, then?”
“Oh, you just need to take it.” He grins, his pinkish tongue sticking between his teeth - both of them. That second cursed mouth of his salivates down your core, sticking just between your folds, pressing on your clit.
And every time you twitch with his rolling tastebuds, Sukuna can feel you clench. “Just lemme fuck you- oh, yeahhh, just like that. Never felt anything better.” He hiccups, two of his hands now move from your head and onto the sides of your waist. “Just take it alllll, lemme use this pretty pussy and- o-oh.”
Moving you. Teasing you. So much so that your entire body was starting to go limp - and it was exactly that boneless state of yours that made you rest your head down between the valley of his chest.
Exactly what made your mouth loll open with a puddle of drool, your hands gripping his pecs and squeezing—
“Oh sh-shit.” Sukuna groans gruffly, and you don’t know what you’re more shocked by: the cracking tone of his voice, or the way that a slight pearl of whiteness beads out of Sukuna’s pecs the moment you grope them. “Look what you’ve made me- ngh, oh fuck, brat. Fuck.”
“I-is this part of your…” Without even finishing your sentence - almost as if on instinct - you’re veering your mouth over to lick at the sap trickling out of him. And—
Oh.
Oh, Ryomen Sukuna was lactating.
“You can- this is milk?” You gasp, and before he can respond, you’re trying to urge more out. Letting the sweetened ivory sap fall into your agape maw, “I didn’t know even bull hybrids could lactate, Kuna.”
“So what?”
You look up at him through your lashes, every time he’s thrashing his cock inside you, you’re sucking on his pretty pink pecs. “I like it.”
“T-tch—” Sukuna tries to sound tough - fails. Because you could already make out the way his breath shook, his flexed core tensed.
Any time your textured tastebuds sizzled on top of him, Sukuna shivered. Was forced to attempt not to close his eyes and bite down on his lips - you’d never have thought that lactating would make the big, bad hybrid putty in your hands.
He blushes all the way down from the tips of his ears, down to his honeyed pecs, down to the globular edge of his shaft. Hitting up into your soft cervix with a bang—
“I-in about nine months, you’ll be lactating, too…” He whimpers.
♡ INO TAKUMA - Puppy
“Does it feel good, pretty?” Ino’s innocent chocolate eyes sparkle, and you swear you could see from where you were that his cute tail was wagging.
Rough thrusts being punctured by the cutest lil’ whimpers, Ino moans into your mouth just as soon as he feels you clench your heart-shaped insides ‘round him. “Ohhh, th-that means it feels good right? M’I doing a good job–?”
“Yes- yes yes yes–” You’re crying out, drunken saliva puddling on top of your pillow beside you. Each one of his roverin’ wet thrusts left your mind all emptied of thought.
And the thing is, you never even expected Ino to be this good.
NAME: INO TAKUMA
AGE: 21
OCCUPATION: UNIVERSITY STUDENT
HYBRID TYPE: CANIS LUPUS FAMILIARIS
When you’d first been notified that you were paired with a dog hybrid, you’d assumed that it would be a simple task. An easy task. They weren’t particularly apex predators, right? So how hard could it be—
That is, until you were running on the fifth round with Ino shovelling his heated cock inside you for the nth time. His silken ears drooping as he sniffs the side of your throat, trying to smell out your arousal- “So this pretty pussy’s likin’ it? Ngh, how else could I make you feel good, sweetness?”
“You’re already making me feel s-so good, Taku.” You gasp, feeling his slender fingers dip down to pinch your clit.
And just as he hears your words, Ino’s entire body perks up. Face beaming. His bulbous cock twitching at the very end, Ino drives it in even deeper against your g-spot with a damp squelch. “Oh yes? Then–” He looks down shyly, the cutest strawberry blush taking over his face. “-then could you say the special words, pretty?”
“Hmmm…” You pretend to think, “We’ll see, Taku.”
He all but whimpers.
Ah, those special words - it’d been an accidental discovery, really. The fact that Ino would be so affected by two specific words was a discovery that you hadn’t expected to stumble across during your research beforehand.
And he’s doggedly pounding his hips into yours, as if he was trying to fuck that very pet name from your mouth. “B-but I’ve been so good, don’t you think?”
As if to prove his point, Ino lightly swats your perky clit - just to show how bad he could really be.
“Now now–” Your breath hitches, thighs shivering ever-so-slightly at the sparks of bliss that suddenly explode behind your eyelids. He was drilling himself in so deep, stretchin’ out every sweet, slick-filled orifice. “-keep going like that and I won’t say it at- ngh, all.”
“Oh- please-” Don’t even mention it. Don’t even think of it. He lurches forwards to capture your lips in his, and Ino was always so sloppy with the way he kissed you.
Just letting his long, salivating tongue taste you. Ino’s lecherous sounds crack at the back of his throat, the vibrations humming along your skin. And his pretty cock just squelches out precum at the feeling, “But I’ve been so good, sweetness. Haven’t I been makin’ this pretty pussy feel all n-niiice and—” Instead of spanking your clit this time, now he’s rolling his thumb over it. Feeling the sultry wetness. “-wet, hm?”
“You have.” You tease, your face turning faux-thoughtful at the excitement in his eyes. “But I don’t know if you deserve that-”
“D-do I just need to fuck you harder, sweetness?” Ino pleads with you. And before you know it, one of his hands plaster onto the side of your hips, tuggin’ you close to him. “I can do that, y’know?”
Your brows raise, “Oh you c- oh.”
Not only is he pounding you even harder - enough that the formal bedsprings creak, enough that your vision shatters with tears - but he’s also makin’ his tempo even sloppier. Loooong, miry drags of his shaft that poke your very sweetest spots.
His blossoming red divot sticks up against the roof of your pussy and draws lil’ circles, edging towards your g-spot. “S-see? I can do harder.” He looks down at the place over your stomach, where his bulbous girth was swipin’ against your cervix. “I can also fill you up, mmm, deep inside with my ngh- cum, if you’d like?”
You swear you’re gushing out so wetly that it creates a ring of white ‘round Ino’s bulky hilt. All sappy and glistening with need.
And before you can even formulate a coherent answer inside your mind, Ino slightly raises his nose into the air and sniffs. And lets his mouth drop. His Adam’s apple swallowing. “And I can a-also smell if it’s taken, sweetness…”
“Taken?” You ogle at his words, “What do you mean-”
“You know…taken.” Ino looks at you meaningfully with this pussydrunk, half-lidded eyes of his. Every thrust of his leaves his aching knot slamming against the front of your pussy. Vicious.
“And ah- has it taken?” Asking, out of genuine curiosity - that was the entire point of the program, was it not?
“Well…” Ino elongates his throaty murmur, and for a few more strokes he lets his twitchy cock do all the talking. Smooch after smooch against the slimy door to your womb, he stirs aside the webs of cum from rounds prior. Whiffing down at your scent glands as he does- “I think just one more should n-ngh, do it.”
“Oh my—” Your mouth falls open, and you drag a hand through the tawny brown locks of Ino’s sweaty scalp. You could feel something primal building up in your stomach, in his thrusts. “Good boy.”
And there you said it.
It’d slipped out, really. Something your stupidly buzzing mind had been thinking for the last few jackhammers but hadn’t said out loud yet.
Something that Ino Takuma himself had been dying for you to say - you’d said it.
And it’s all that Ino has to hear to shove himself all the way to his thick hilt inside your pussy and cum. Deep, deep inside - like he was aiming for his gooey white ribbons to reach the very door to your womb, and you swear you could feel it slipping ‘round like just so.
Sloshing n’ squelching every time he pulled his hips out to thrust back in- “Good boy-” Ino gasps, breathless. He was hammerin’ into you vulgarly and still managed to find the time to babble out. “You called me ‘good boy’- you called me- oh…”
You blink your vision back from its daze as Ino’s voice hitches, “Yeees–?”
And he only blinks his teary lashes, looking up at you with the most needy puppy-dog eyes while he still ruts his cock into your deepest depths. “M’your good boy, aren’t I?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Snow Leopard
The room you were led to had been sectioned off.
It had been padlocked twice.
It had you stumbling back at the ice-cold pheromones that hit you the moment that door opened - and when you looked into Gojo Satoru’s expressionless face—oh.
You weren’t making it out of here alive.
One hour later.
You still think the same- “F-fuck, ngh…” Your mouth gapes ajar, saliva sploshing down the side of your mouth every time he thrusted in. Long, vicious hammers of his ravaged cock that left you all stupid.
Flat on your back. You looked up through your teary lashes at his flushed face, drunken eyes. “Toru, how are you- hck! still going?”
“I don’t know.” He replies, simply. And his voice is deep, his voice wavers. Sounding as if he was genuinely in disbelief as to how he hasn’t stopped yet.
Still fucking into you like a madman - you didn’t need to talk right now. Why would you need to talk?
A sudden, sharp laugh bursts out of Gojo’s puffy lips when he registers the fact that you could still form coherent sentences: he needed to fix that. Now.
And before you know it, one of his overlarge palms clasp down on the top of your scalp and you’re being drag-drag-draaaagged back down. Down to where he was working on mazin’ his slimy wet cockhead repeatedly past your folds, pinpointing your tiniest orifices.
Your breath hitches as you look back down to where he was pummeling you- then up to stare deeply into his glowing blue eyes.
“Enough talking.”
Three hours later.
“Oh p-please, Satoru—” You shrill out, loud enough that you’re sure the whole establishment could hear you by now. On all fours by now, with your back arched wildly into his chiselled abs.
You swear you could count all eight of them, flexing and rippling, each time his honed hips slapped into yours. Slap after slap after slap- Gojo’s crowned tip reaches for your womb and you find your legs shaking. Head falling forwards-
“Ah ah-” Your vision flashes in front of you as something firm grabs onto the back of your neck. Only a few more strokes later, you’re realizing that it was his damn bicep - curling around your neck in a headlock. “I need to scent you.”
“But you’ve been ngh- scenting me for hours already- oh.” Your words strangle up in your throat as soon as you feel yourself crashing into your high once more. For the nth time tonight.
Every white-hot burst of your high that Gojo can practically smell on you, his feline capabilities can sense just when your orgasm has peaked. And he’s pushing his vein-covered cock in maddeningly, “And I don’t hear you complaining.” You’re startled by a sudden spank down on your clit, finding that his tail had wrapped ‘round your sheeny thighs to pull them apart. Enough for him to slap your weeping pussy- “I don’t hear her complaining.”
You gawk, your spittle creating a glazed layer on top of his biceps. “Y-you can understand- oh.” Only for him to tighten his restraint. Choking you with his beefy arms—fuck.
“Of course I can, sweetheart.” Gojo purrs out, as if it should be obvious. “M’a big cat, after all. N’ I can talk to- heh…kitties.”
“Oh.” He was utterly pussydrunk. Gone.
Barely even registering when he trickles out a few gluey wads of cum to stick upon either side of your walls, all webbed up. But he wasn’t done yet - far from it, you think you can feel Gojo’s knot at his base start to swell even bigger-
“And this kitty says that she’s not done yet.”
Seven hours later.
“Please-”
“Come back-”
“Oh—” You’re being caught steadily. The bed had long since broken, and if you thought that you were stuck in the dilemma between running away from his cock and gyratin’ back for more, more, more then Gojo was already making the choice for you.
Already pulling you back with his inhuman strength, he folds you underneath him.
You’d only had the time for a brief snack break, stocked on the bedside cabinet as if the organizers knew that this was going to happen - it was Gojo’s first time in the program, though they must have known an apex predator’s stamina.
Such incredible, incredible stamina.
You had your head against his collarbone by now, your body bent into the meanest full nelson physically possible. Gojo was bending you to his lecherous whims so easily, tugging you back so you turn your face and gnaw down on his throat.
Whining, “P-please—” You let sobs wrack your throat, your entire body shaking sensitively as he shovels his long, solid inches into you again. And again. And again and again and again. “And she–” You might just be losing it as much as he was. “-says she’s not done still?”
“Mmm, let’s see…”
With a purr, Gojo’s powerful spock-marked tail wrenches apart your thighs. He snickers after one of his hands comes down to leave a solid spank!
So hard that glittering specks of slick n’ cum splatter all over your thighs. And Gojo himself finds his breath catching at the lewd sight of it- “Not yet.”
“F-fuck…” Your mouth lolls open stupidly in a silent scream - at least, you think it was silent. Because just then Gojo pulls out his entire girth to fuck back into you deeper, and it lets out the most deafening slurp. “But what if it doesn’t fi-”
“Shhh, sweetheart.” He already knew what you were going to say: that his generous helpings of cum might not fit anymore. And you didn’t need to think about that - you didn’t need to even imagine that.
What do you mean it might not fit? Hah! As if—“This kitty tells me that sh-she can take, ngh- one more.” You could practically hear the grin in his raspy tone, “In fact, she tells me she can take my knot.”
Your eyes bulge open, “That- what?”
And he’s only nodding along - not to you, but to the sultry sounds your pussy was making. As if he was in conversation with your slick-glazed pussylips. “Mhm, my knot, sweetheart.” As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pants, “Haaah—get ready.”
It’s the only warning you get.
Before you know it, your toes curl with such an incredible stretch.
A stinging sensation that burns all the way from your parted thighs and up your spine- you wriggle your body around, and Gojo pulls you back using his trusty headlock once more. “C’mon-” He whispers between his prolonged canines, “C’mon c’mon c’mon-”
“Shiiiit—” You trill, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as he uses his other hand to pry apart your sticky folds. Plugging a finger in to swivel inside n’ fit his swollen knot, “It’s so big- it’s so- oh my-”
“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, biiiig stretch, ain’t it?” Gojo chuckles darkly, and you’re completely pinned down while he eases inside. “Say it w’me now, m’gonna make it fit. Hah, biiiig—”
“S-stretch-” You mutter out thickly. Your head throws back with every slight centimeter of circumference he’s managing to squeeze inside. Bullying inside. “S’a big- stretch- ngh-”
“That’s it, that’s it- big stretch.”
Gojo’s just so thick that it takes you more than a few aggressive strokes to finally shove his hefty knot inside with a wettened plop! It fits in so deeply, molding your tight walls - you swear he’s so plump there that you can count each throb of his pulsations.
“Count- can you?” He’s humming after you and oh- did you say that out loud? Slowly, sensually, Gojo starts to grind his wads of cum inside.
Primally.
While you’re stupid on the stretch, he finishes off - “Let’s see if you can count how many kits I fuck into ya, sweetheart.”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Hawk <3
“Oh, honey…” Higuruma puffs out breathily from between your legs, his slick tongue lapping up n’ down your slit at a frenzied pace. “Oh, angel- oh, sugar- oh.”
“Please, Hiromi—” Your thighs shake from either side of his handsome face, where he made sure that you were practically glued to him. Your cunt sliding down his mouth, his hooked nose. “I wan’ you…hck.”
“Think she’s all ready f’me again?” One of his large hands comes up to pat your ass cheeks, tenderly- though his mouth was the complete opposite.
Shoving straight between your puffy pussylips to dig against the side of your orifice. It’s only once you’re all clean from the wads of cum stuck to you that Higuruma actually moves from underneath. His dark locks tickling the side of your thighs, “Now, turn ‘round and bend over f’me, angel?”
And the voice he’s saying it in isn’t even particularly stern - but you’re clamoring to listen to him in an instant.
Oh, a hawk hybrid: one of those rare types that you were honestly lucky to be paired up with.
But, the thing about being with such a highly endangered species (especially during his peak, his rut) was that their primal instincts told them to breed. And they were going to breed. Right now.
Smack!
“Pay attention, angel.” Higuruma doesn’t even apologize for the hand he has swatted to the side of your hips. Holding you still as he quickly swipes his ruby-red crown down your slit a few times, gathering the beads of slick that drip out of you. “You hafta pay attention when m’fuckin’ you all full of my- hah, kids, alright?”
You whine, your teary lashes fluttering- “Y-yes I- oh!”
Yet another smack!
“Ah ah, what did I tell you?” You can’t reply - he doesn’t let you. Because in an instant, Higuruma’s proud girth starts pushing in. Probing.
He’s so thick that he has to spread his meaty thighs and fuck upwards to help squeeze his split-ended tip inside. Like a spotlight, he mazes his lengthy cock inside- “Hafta what?” You feel his scalding breath puff out from behind you, and it takes you a few more half-ruts to realize that he was talking to you. “You have to what now, angel?”
“Pay attention-” You’re fisting at the sheets.
“Exactly.” And Higuruma’s swollen cock twitches just a little bit hearing you say the correct answer. “Pay attention f’me while I breed you- ngh, okay, sugar?”
“Y-yes, sir-”
Oh, it slips out without you even realizing. Without you even wanting to.
You honestly don’t know where it even came from (perhaps from your slight research about hawk hybrids beforehand? Perhaps from the whole official-feeling vibe of the building? Perhaps just from him?)
But Higuruma certainly wasn’t complaining. In fact, just the mere sound of your addressal makes him arch his back, throw his head, and it makes his powerful wings twitch.
Attached to his muscular shoulder blades, there’s a sudden whooshing sound as they suddenly flare out. Wingspan so wide that they touch either side of the dimly-lit room, and even Higuruma’s aching cock jolts.
Flinches.
Spurting out a translucent wad of pre that slickly slides down to your womb- “Y-you can’t-” Immediately, he clears his throat but it’s no use - you already hear the way that Higuruma’s voice just cracked at the very tail end of his sentence. “You can’t just call me- oh.”
“Yes, Hiromi?” Looking behind your shoulder, with those pretty eyes and that pretty voice. Honestly, he can’t handle it.
And your face is suddenly being forced forwards by one hand ‘round your neck. A headlock.
Used solely to keep you in place, he’s drilling into you from behind like a madman, the feathery ends of his wings jolting. His thick thighs shaking. Plastering every veiny inch of his cock alllll the way inside- “S’all your fuckin’ fault.” And you don’t know whether he’s talking about the way his length was pummeling even harder, or whether his wings seemed to be oversensitive. Flapping wildly. “That m’like th-this- fuck! Why do I feel like m’going so- ngh, out of control…”
Almost as if he’s babbling to himself.
Bit bit bit, probe by probe. His plump cock fits into even your smallest orifices, filling you up from the inside out and making you keen. “S’not my fault-”
“Of course, s’not- just you and this hngh-” He grits his teeth, nose sliding down the column of your throat so he can bask in your scent. “-pretty pussy, and this preeeetty scent and- and…”
“Yes?” You question, as he trails off.
And it takes a few more pressurized pushes before the stern man can finally answer, almost shyly. “-call me that again. Please, sugar?”
Oh, he was asking so nicely. So how could you possibly say no?
“Please- I want you to c-cum inside–” You swerve your peaking eyes around, eyes wet with tears. Just the mere sight itself - just those words already - enough to make Higuruma slam his riding hips, so hard that it almost hurts. “-sir?”
You feel something flutter. Something flap.
Before you’re crashing into your high, and Higuruma is right behind you - pour after stringy pour of cum. Clinging down from the edge of your cervix all the way down your folds, it formulates the cutest white ring that he takes such pleasure in smearin’ on your flesh.
Your toes curl, and you buck your hips back at a steady pace to meet his oncoming thrusts. Perfectly timed with every high mountain of your high, he fucks you oh-so-perfectly through your bliss.
Thinking that that melody of your moans was the prettiest fuckin’ thing he’s ever heard. “Oh my g-god—” Higuruma’s struggling to catch his breath, you left him shaking. “M’gonna hafta find a way for you to pay for this- fuck.”
“But you asked—” You whine in righteousness, blinking back the tears in your eyes once most of the haze has dissipated. And you’re seeing—all brown?
A glossy, dark brown that was practically black in some lighting. It’s soon after that you realize that Higuruma’s wings had been protectively encircling the two of you right as you hit your orgasms, like a curtain of long feathers.
He shivers n’ grunts as he pulls his wings back- honestly, it’s like they couldn’t be apart from you.
“Hawks are protective of their nest, you see.” He gruffs out, by way of explanation. Still trickling in gooey wet wads- “Especially of things that should be in their nest.”
୨୧ — “W-wait,” Choso stammers, face flushed as you straddle his lap, “you sure about... without protection?”
“Mmn~” You roll your hips, letting his pretty cock slide through your slick folds -not inside, not yet- just enough to make those glistening beads of precum smear against your clit. “Cho, I wanna feel all of you. Every. Single. Inch.”
“B-but the things you're saying...” His breath hitches when you mouth at his throat, tongue tracing over his pulse point, “It's making me-“ His cock jerks against you, hot and heavy…
“What things?” you ask, all innocence, teeth grazing his earlobe, “You mean about wanting you to fill me up? 'Til your cum is overflowing out of me, dripping down my thighs?” You card your fingers through his dark chocolate hair, tugging just enough to make his jaw go slack. “And even then... I still want you to keep going. Those things?”
“Yes.” The word scrapes out of him, raw and ruined, “those… those things.”
She's going to ruin me.
You take his trembling hand and press it flat against your lower belly, holding it there. Letting him feel the soft give of your skin beneath his calloused palm. "I want to feel you here, Choso. Your raw cock kissing my womb.”
“Nnngh-!” His cockhead twitches against your entrance, flushed angry red and weeping. His hands shake where they grip your thigh and stomach, knuckles blanching, “Oh god, I-“ His head drops back, throat bared, and you feel the groan vibrate through his chest before you hear it, “I-I won't be able to last like this.”
“Or about how badly I want to have your babies?”
You sink down.
Slow. Torturous. Taking him inch by inch until he's fully sheathed, his thick length splitting you open with a wet, filthy sound. Choso's teeth sink into his bottom lip hard enough to bruise, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.
“Stop saying those things," he begs, voice breaking, but his hips buck up into your heat, desperate and involuntary, “I- I can't-“
“You're so cute when you're flustered, Cho~” You start to move, riding him in slow, grinding rolls that make his cock drag against your gummy walls, “Getting all worked up thinking about knocking me up...”
“Please-“ He's gasping now, broken little sounds punched out of his chest. “The way you're talking... making me lose control... I...” He looks away from you, shame burning across his cheeks, and bites down on his knuckle as his hips stutter, “Hahh- gonna- I can't hold it- I'm-“
“Choso~” You clench around him, tight and greedy, “G-give me a baby. Fill my belly with your c-“
One moment you're riding him, setting the pace, in control- the next, the world wrenches sideways and your spine slams into the mattress hard enough to make you gasp. You don't even register him moving. One second he was beneath you, the next he's over you- full weight pressing into you.
Choso stares down, and the man looking back isn't the one you've been teasing. That flustered, blushing mess? Gone.
His hands find your wrists. Not gently. His fingers clamp down like iron shackles, grinding the delicate bones together as he pins them above your head in one motion. The mattress creaks beneath you- or maybe that's your joints. His grip hurts. It's supposed to.
“You think,” he rasps, and his voice has dropped into a register you've never heard before, “you can just do that? Wind me up like some toy?”
He could break you, something whispers at the base of your skull. He could break you and you'd let him.
One hand releases your wrist- and before relief can register, those fingers wrap around your throat. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just there. A collar made of flesh and intent, his thumb pressing into the flutter of your pulse like he's counting the beats. Memorizing them.
“You wanted this, wanted me to lose control…”
“Cho- AHH!”
He spreads your thighs roughly and slams back into you so hard your vision whites out.
There's nothing gentle about it. Nothing sweet. He fucks into you like he's angry, like every filthy word you whispered broke something loose inside him that he can't cage anymore.
“Y-yes! Yes!Choso- fuckfuckfuck-“
His hips piston into you without mercy, each thrust punching the air from your lungs, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your deep in your belly. Your toes curl. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes because it's so much, he's so deep, and he won't stop-
“Gonna give you exactly what you begged for-“ he growls against your throat, all teeth and hot breath.
“Please, please, Cho, I need- I'm gonna-“
He bites down on your shoulder and groans as he buries himself to the hilt, grinding against your cervix- and you shatter.
Your orgasm tears through you like lightning, cunt clamping down on his cock in rhythmic, greedy pulses. Choso chokes out something that might be your name, might be a curse, and then he's cumming too- flooding your womb with thick, molten heat that splashes against your deepest walls and keeps coming.
“Ahh~ ♡!”
You feel every spurt. Every twitch of his cock as he empties himself inside you. The warmth spreads through your belly, blooming outward, and when he gives one last shuddering thrust, his seed squelches out around his shaft -too much for your little pussy to hold- dripping down to pool beneath you.
“Nngh... s-so warm... Choso~”
He whimpers. Actually whimpers, face burning scarlet as the filthy sound of his cum bubbling inside you reaches his ears. The feral edge drains out of him all at once, leaving him trembling, and he collapses against your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“You're...” His voice is muffled, shaky, devastated. “You're going to be the death of me.”
His cock gives one last weak twitch inside your flooded cunt, still plugging his release deep where it belongs.
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