ミ☆ㅤ tags: established relationship, post-canon, plot what plot/porn without plot, explicit consent, first time, no beta we die like heinrich harlander
ミ☆ㅤ cw: blow jobs, cunnilingus, decriptive accounts of both male and female anatomy, vaginal fingering, cum as lube, awkward sex, premature ejaculation, everyone cums
Adam didn't think himself deserving of intimacy. To be fair, he hadn't his entire life; not that said life has been a very long one. He'd long since grown accustomed to being known as a thing to be discarded of when his existence became burdensome.
You changed that.
It took some time, but you had. He did and would do most anything you asked, taking pleasure in doing so. When your relationship evolved beyond a transactional one, his stoicism softened. The great marble pillar you originally met had fallen away, leaving behind a wet mush of unworked clay.
"Are you sure?" He cut through the intimacy of the moment to beg for your reassurance. Adam panicked at the thought of your touch; what if he was to do something wrong? "I have yet to hold another person in the way you ask me to."
You laughed, but not unkindly, "It's not brain surgery. If you'd like to, I'd be more than willing to help you learn."
"Only if it does not trouble you," He nodded.
You kissed him, then. It was not the first time you had done so, but that did not mean he knew what he was doing. The idea itself, of pressing one's lips to another's in show of affection, was silly to him. However, when yours met, and warmth spread from his lips to his throat and down towards his very soul, he understood. Adam was thankful, too, that his novels gave him the elusive idea of how this was supposed to go.
Whilst your tongue licked lightly on his teeth until they parted for further exploration, he busied himself with the back laces of your corset. He tried to remember the steps outlined in his head, but thoughts of anything other than you proved difficult. Pulling at one of the strings along your mid back, he heard you gasp. Immediately, the Creature let go of you and stepped backwards.
"Have I hurt you?" Adam's eyes found the floor, afraid of meeting yours.
You shook your head, smiling, "Not at all. I was just surprised."
He nodded, but remained still, unsure of how to continue.
"Would you like me to lead?" You offered.
The Creature looked up, familiarity in his eyes, "Like when we danced?"
"Exactly so."
Again, he nodded, stiffening when you approached. It wasn't like he didn't want your touch—he wanted it terribly—but he feared nothing more than bringing you discomfort. You were a good soldier, though, in the sense that you pressed onward without complaint. He felt your lips upon his neck and nearly melted into you, craning his head to one side to allow you more accessibility. His confusion roused as your lips moved downward, but Adam remained unopposing. Finding his sternum, you helped pull the loose linen undershirt over his head, before continuing towards his stomach.
By now, you were kneeling. He loooked down, noticing the light the trail of saliva left across his pieced together flesh. There was tepid curiosity in his eyes, as though he toed the waters of a vast lake. He realized shamefully late that the next steps involved his genitals. He feared your reaction to the sight of them, but that fear was quickly replaced by the feeling of your mouth.
The warmth alone threatened to overheat him, his body now overworking itself in a crude attempt to produce sweat. Adam tried to keep his loudest sounds within his chest as half-grumbled whines reverberated against his ribcage. The very moment your tongue met the head of his now erect phallus, all was abandoned. Moaning unabashed, his legs wobbled underneath him as if useless. Your face moved further down his shaft and the Creature clenched his fists around nothing, doing his best to stave off whatever now pooled in his gut. With an inhale, you sucked with enough force to make his core contract. Adam reeled back, repeating his previous motin.
It was your turn to look confused. Wiping your mouth, you spoke first, "Are you alright?"
"I—" He paused long enough to gather his thoughts, "I felt strange."
"How so?"
Holding his bottom between his teeth, Adam closed his eyes. He breathed shakily, "As though I were soon to expel something from my body."
"Oh!" You perked up. His admission gave you just cause to no longer worry. You couldn't help but smile, "That's what is supposed to happen."
Adam's pants changed to soft sighs, his brows furrowing, "I thought men were to finish inside their partner?"
"If that is what you'd like," You hummed agreeably.
"How do I stop from releasing before?"
This was a question you did not know how to answer. He hadn't asked to many of those yet, but he could tell by your pause the answer evaded you. "You could help me, if you'd like."
"I live for nothing else."
Finally, you two had moved over to the bed. This was the proper way, he recalled, and you deserved all the correct trimmings that were supposed to come with shared physical contact. Watching as you undressed, Adam's heart lept into his throat at the sight of your bare form. This was not new, as he had quite frequently watched you change, but the context brought about a new stirring inside him.
You sat on the mattress and beckoned him forward. He came to stand in front of you, his hips near your shoulder. Adam allowed you to pull him down to his knees. Looking up from the space between your thighs, he awaited instruction.
"Have you seen a woman's parts before?" The question came without judgement.
The Creature nodded, "Only in medical books."
"Alright," You spread your legs to further accommodate him, "I need you to forget whatever you have learned."
"What?"
Adam gazed on your sex with wonder. It didn't look too different from those he found within textbooks, other than the fact that it belonged to you. He did not yet touch, because you had not yet told him to. The longer he stared into the infinite array of fractal flesh, he noticed minor discrepancies.
You leaned back on your elbows, "The information within them is wrong."
"Human error?" He asked.
"Human ignorance," You scoffed. Reaching halphazardly, you pulled one of his hands to your aching core, leaving it to rest just outside the promised land. "You may touch me—gently—and I shall tell you what you are touching."
The instructions were simple enough. Regardless, he hesitated, allowing his thumbs to testingly press against the outer folds. You let out a noise similar to the ones he had and Adam did not move away. Gently, as you instructed, the pads of his thumbs followed the outline.
You relaxed, "That is the labia."
"Do my motions please you?"
Adam looked up around the same time you casted your eyes downward, and both of your irises met. He saw on your expression the gentleness of a proper mentor. The Creature could only hope he proved himself a worthwhile mentee.
"Sort of," You replied.
He continued prodding politely, listening as you told him what everything was. Quickly, he learned to avoid your urethra, not liking the hiss you made when he pressed near it. To an opposite effect, he became well acquainted with your clitorus, as the sight of your back arching gave him cause to hump the air. Having explored everywhere else, his digit curiously encircled your entrance, dipping inside experimentally. The Creature continually looked between you and your sex, cataloging precisely what motions gave way to which sounds. After only a few minutes ministrations, his thumb exited, and Adam examined the lubricant now staining it.
He did not hesitate to taste the liquid. Adam had tasted your blood before—albeit unintentionally—and held no qualms regarding the flavor of your other bodily fluids. In fact, he thought it tasted rather good.
Something carnal and not entirely human wormed its way from his gut to his brain. His digit returned to collect more of your nectar, bringing it towards his face for yet another taste, until he forwent his manners completely to drink straight from the source. He remembered the wolves, and just how much their bites hurt, so the Creature was careful not to use his teeth. Instead, his tongue licked a large stripe along your entire sex. The appendage then dipped hungrily into your canal, eager for more of your ambrosia. When your moans grew quiet, his mouth found your clit, sucking with the same force you had once given him.
Adam became too engrossed in his actions to realize your orgasm approached. The only indicator that managed to catch his attention were your hands finding his head, and therefore the strands of hair on top of it. He nearly stopped when you pulled at them, if not for the way you pushed his face further into your cunt. Your actions excited him. He groaned into your flesh when you finished across his features, and he relished how you kept him there until completely satisfied. Part of him thought he could spend a lifetime eating from your palatable cunt.
Catching his breath, he pulled back, "That was most enjoyable."
"I am glad you think so," You let out an airy laugh, "Would you like to continue?"
He nodded, moving to join you on the bed. The Creature briefly observed your strive to kick yourself up the bed, ulimately grabbing your sides and hoisting you up himself. Your legs parted and Adam situated himself between them once more. This was the most difficult part, as you could not really explain the next steps. His freed phallus remained erect; if anything, it had gotten harder since its last use, and although the skin around bordered a pale blue, the head that poked out was a bruising purple. His tip leaked with need, a pearlascent substance accruing at the top. Pausing to inspect it, he tried to line up his shaft with your canal.
The first push was slow, too slow, and he missed his mark entirely. The next attempt was rushed; due to his impatience, he missed again, his tip gracing your inner thigh. The look of concentration on his face combined with his syncopated grunts told of his frustation. Adam paused when your fingers caught his wrist.
"Patience," You reminded him softly, "Take your time."
With your guiding hand, he realigned himself. Pushing, his cockhead finally caught on your hole. His eyelids screwed shut and his hips stuttered. Although the reason eluded him, he had missed again, accidentally slamming himself against your bundle of nerves. His brow furrowed when your back arched, but he nonetheless continued his attempts, only to meet the same results. Your noises grew louder, and with a particularly strong push, he finished.
"I'm sorry."
It was the first time, in that which you've known him, he had ever stuttered.
Adam felt his whole body lock up and for a microinstant he feared he would stay that way. Then, his climax lulled over. All the energy he had left spurted from himself in opaque ropes, until finally he collapsed on top of you.
Adam groaned defeatedly, "I did not do it right."
"No one way is right," Your arms met at his back, "We reached our ends, which is a success in my book."
Hai sars haiiiiiii BLEH OKAY so my main req is for felix ofc... He isnjust the most boyfriend of all time 😔😔 anyways bambi cringe time : i saw this tt ( https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8yBo4AM/ ) and just couldnt stop thinking of being teased by felix ill send others later hashtag love youuu
˙ . ꒷ 🍪 . 𖦹˙— tease
ミ☆ㅤ pairing: felix catton x f!reader
ミ☆ㅤ wc: 740
ミ☆ㅤ tags: established relationship, canon divergent, fluff, no smut, pet names, drunkfic, no use of y/n, no beta we die like...well yk
felix liked to tease you.
to be entirely fair, he liked to tease everyone, but the boy was particularly fond of teasing you. you made it too easy! he'd watch your brows furrow with query and laugh when you became cross. of course, he'd always give in to your demands eventually; not a cold day in hell could keep him from satisfying you.
"baby, i'm starving!" you whined, stumbling along the pavement. the two of you had spent the latter half of your saturday evening performing a pub crawl; such a ritual so often executed it was expected. you, as always, drank more than any sane person would. that is what unbridled confidence does to a person, and he envied you for it.
felix walked behind you and a safe distance, lest you throw up on him as you did the prior week; he still remembered having to keep you from crying while he cleaned himself up.
in his hands, he held a small, bite-sized cookie. said cookie came from a pre-packaged container, which he had already eaten the entirety of, despite only having stopped into a convenience store just a couple blocks back. at the time, you claimed you were not hungry. he'd come to expect this result.
passing an olive branch, he stretched out his arm, beckoning you to grab that which you desired. however, when you went to retrieve it, felix promptly closed his fingers around his palm. you scoffed. unsurprisingly, you still attempted the action when he repeated the gesture. when you finally realized what he was doing, you stuck out your lip to pout.
"play nice," you grumbled.
he let out a hearty laugh, relenting to keep his palm open. to make things interesting, felix added a stipulation: "you have to eat it from my hand."
be it the drink or hunger, you were eager to oblige him. he held the prized snack at your level, grinning devilishly as you moved your head down to grab it with your mouth. that is when he took the opportunity to speak once more.
"good girl."
you paused, rather abruptly, looking at him as if he stabbed you. felix tried and failed to hold in another chuckle as your cheeks heated to a warmer hue, but could not. he sent himself into a fit of laughter, clutching his sides as he let out rouchous joy. embarrassed, you withdrew, and he smiled, for he had won.
when he wasn't playing attention, you tried to snatch the cookie from him. the attempt was unsuccessful, as he closed his hand the moment yours approached. his brown eyes followed your form to your boots, where he watched you stomp your foot in frustration. felix laughed at the childishness of it.
he tutted teaasingly, "so quick to anger."
"i don't even want it," you pouted, turning up your nose.
"are you sure?"
sticking out his hand again, felix felt his heart leap excitedly when you took the bait once more. whatever shame afflicted you previously did not return. you eagerly bit at his hand; it reminded he fed horses as a child. laughing, he hid the promised treat behind his fingers. this earned him a shove, which he did not mind, but the grin that twitched at your lips told him his chaffing wasn't too harsh.
this time, you threw up your hands, "whatever, it probably doesn't taste good, anyways."
"you don't want it?" he could hardly hide his smile behind the question.
"no," you huffed, crossing your arms, "i don't."
with a final farewell, he threw the cookie, kicking it forward to end his charade. he heard you gasp, before you followed the arc to its descent. you stared at the now dirtied dessert for a moment, ultimately rejoining him.
"that was a total waste!"
he shrugged, "you said you didn't want it."
"felix," his name sounded so good on your lips, "i'm hungry."
the boy placed an arm over your shoulder, guiding you along the sidewalk as the dorms grew closer. he looked down in time to see your eyes pleading up at him; who could resist such a sight?
"tell you what," he relented, "i'll buy you a whole pack of cookies when we get back."
"really? just for me?" you asked.
he giggled, "yes, love. long as you let me steal one. or two. or five."
your hand hit his stomach. "felix!"
"alright, alright, this one will be yours."
tysm for reading <333
for bambi !! birthday fic incoming next week teehee, hope this will tide you over til then
ミ☆ㅤ tags: established relationship, post-canon, plot what plot/porn without plot, explicit consent, first time, no beta we die like heinrich harlander
ミ☆ㅤ cw: blow jobs, cunnilingus, decriptive accounts of both male and female anatomy, vaginal fingering, cum as lube, awkward sex, premature ejaculation, everyone cums
Adam didn't think himself deserving of intimacy. To be fair, he hadn't his entire life; not that said life has been a very long one. He'd long since grown accustomed to being known as a thing to be discarded of when his existence became burdensome.
You changed that.
It took some time, but you had. He did and would do most anything you asked, taking pleasure in doing so. When your relationship evolved beyond a transactional one, his stoicism softened. The great marble pillar you originally met had fallen away, leaving behind a wet mush of unworked clay.
"Are you sure?" He cut through the intimacy of the moment to beg for your reassurance. Adam panicked at the thought of your touch; what if he was to do something wrong? "I have yet to hold another person in the way you ask me to."
You laughed, but not unkindly, "It's not brain surgery. If you'd like to, I'd be more than willing to help you learn."
"Only if it does not trouble you," He nodded.
You kissed him, then. It was not the first time you had done so, but that did not mean he knew what he was doing. The idea itself, of pressing one's lips to another's in show of affection, was silly to him. However, when yours met, and warmth spread from his lips to his throat and down towards his very soul, he understood. Adam was thankful, too, that his novels gave him the elusive idea of how this was supposed to go.
Whilst your tongue licked lightly on his teeth until they parted for further exploration, he busied himself with the back laces of your corset. He tried to remember the steps outlined in his head, but thoughts of anything other than you proved difficult. Pulling at one of the strings along your mid back, he heard you gasp. Immediately, the Creature let go of you and stepped backwards.
"Have I hurt you?" Adam's eyes found the floor, afraid of meeting yours.
You shook your head, smiling, "Not at all. I was just surprised."
He nodded, but remained still, unsure of how to continue.
"Would you like me to lead?" You offered.
The Creature looked up, familiarity in his eyes, "Like when we danced?"
"Exactly so."
Again, he nodded, stiffening when you approached. It wasn't like he didn't want your touch—he wanted it terribly—but he feared nothing more than bringing you discomfort. You were a good soldier, though, in the sense that you pressed onward without complaint. He felt your lips upon his neck and nearly melted into you, craning his head to one side to allow you more accessibility. His confusion roused as your lips moved downward, but Adam remained unopposing. Finding his sternum, you helped pull the loose linen undershirt over his head, before continuing towards his stomach.
By now, you were kneeling. He loooked down, noticing the light the trail of saliva left across his pieced together flesh. There was tepid curiosity in his eyes, as though he toed the waters of a vast lake. He realized shamefully late that the next steps involved his genitals. He feared your reaction to the sight of them, but that fear was quickly replaced by the feeling of your mouth.
The warmth alone threatened to overheat him, his body now overworking itself in a crude attempt to produce sweat. Adam tried to keep his loudest sounds within his chest as half-grumbled whines reverberated against his ribcage. The very moment your tongue met the head of his now erect phallus, all was abandoned. Moaning unabashed, his legs wobbled underneath him as if useless. Your face moved further down his shaft and the Creature clenched his fists around nothing, doing his best to stave off whatever now pooled in his gut. With an inhale, you sucked with enough force to make his core contract. Adam reeled back, repeating his previous motin.
It was your turn to look confused. Wiping your mouth, you spoke first, "Are you alright?"
"I—" He paused long enough to gather his thoughts, "I felt strange."
"How so?"
Holding his bottom between his teeth, Adam closed his eyes. He breathed shakily, "As though I were soon to expel something from my body."
"Oh!" You perked up. His admission gave you just cause to no longer worry. You couldn't help but smile, "That's what is supposed to happen."
Adam's pants changed to soft sighs, his brows furrowing, "I thought men were to finish inside their partner?"
"If that is what you'd like," You hummed agreeably.
"How do I stop from releasing before?"
This was a question you did not know how to answer. He hadn't asked to many of those yet, but he could tell by your pause the answer evaded you. "You could help me, if you'd like."
"I live for nothing else."
Finally, you two had moved over to the bed. This was the proper way, he recalled, and you deserved all the correct trimmings that were supposed to come with shared physical contact. Watching as you undressed, Adam's heart lept into his throat at the sight of your bare form. This was not new, as he had quite frequently watched you change, but the context brought about a new stirring inside him.
You sat on the mattress and beckoned him forward. He came to stand in front of you, his hips near your shoulder. Adam allowed you to pull him down to his knees. Looking up from the space between your thighs, he awaited instruction.
"Have you seen a woman's parts before?" The question came without judgement.
The Creature nodded, "Only in medical books."
"Alright," You spread your legs to further accommodate him, "I need you to forget whatever you have learned."
"What?"
Adam gazed on your sex with wonder. It didn't look too different from those he found within textbooks, other than the fact that it belonged to you. He did not yet touch, because you had not yet told him to. The longer he stared into the infinite array of fractal flesh, he noticed minor discrepancies.
You leaned back on your elbows, "The information within them is wrong."
"Human error?" He asked.
"Human ignorance," You scoffed. Reaching halphazardly, you pulled one of his hands to your aching core, leaving it to rest just outside the promised land. "You may touch me—gently—and I shall tell you what you are touching."
The instructions were simple enough. Regardless, he hesitated, allowing his thumbs to testingly press against the outer folds. You let out a noise similar to the ones he had and Adam did not move away. Gently, as you instructed, the pads of his thumbs followed the outline.
You relaxed, "That is the labia."
"Do my motions please you?"
Adam looked up around the same time you casted your eyes downward, and both of your irises met. He saw on your expression the gentleness of a proper mentor. The Creature could only hope he proved himself a worthwhile mentee.
"Sort of," You replied.
He continued prodding politely, listening as you told him what everything was. Quickly, he learned to avoid your urethra, not liking the hiss you made when he pressed near it. To an opposite effect, he became well acquainted with your clitorus, as the sight of your back arching gave him cause to hump the air. Having explored everywhere else, his digit curiously encircled your entrance, dipping inside experimentally. The Creature continually looked between you and your sex, cataloging precisely what motions gave way to which sounds. After only a few minutes ministrations, his thumb exited, and Adam examined the lubricant now staining it.
He did not hesitate to taste the liquid. Adam had tasted your blood before—albeit unintentionally—and held no qualms regarding the flavor of your other bodily fluids. In fact, he thought it tasted rather good.
Something carnal and not entirely human wormed its way from his gut to his brain. His digit returned to collect more of your nectar, bringing it towards his face for yet another taste, until he forwent his manners completely to drink straight from the source. He remembered the wolves, and just how much their bites hurt, so the Creature was careful not to use his teeth. Instead, his tongue licked a large stripe along your entire sex. The appendage then dipped hungrily into your canal, eager for more of your ambrosia. When your moans grew quiet, his mouth found your clit, sucking with the same force you had once given him.
Adam became too engrossed in his actions to realize your orgasm approached. The only indicator that managed to catch his attention were your hands finding his head, and therefore the strands of hair on top of it. He nearly stopped when you pulled at them, if not for the way you pushed his face further into your cunt. Your actions excited him. He groaned into your flesh when you finished across his features, and he relished how you kept him there until completely satisfied. Part of him thought he could spend a lifetime eating from your palatable cunt.
Catching his breath, he pulled back, "That was most enjoyable."
"I am glad you think so," You let out an airy laugh, "Would you like to continue?"
He nodded, moving to join you on the bed. The Creature briefly observed your strive to kick yourself up the bed, ulimately grabbing your sides and hoisting you up himself. Your legs parted and Adam situated himself between them once more. This was the most difficult part, as you could not really explain the next steps. His freed phallus remained erect; if anything, it had gotten harder since its last use, and although the skin around bordered a pale blue, the head that poked out was a bruising purple. His tip leaked with need, a pearlascent substance accruing at the top. Pausing to inspect it, he tried to line up his shaft with your canal.
The first push was slow, too slow, and he missed his mark entirely. The next attempt was rushed; due to his impatience, he missed again, his tip gracing your inner thigh. The look of concentration on his face combined with his syncopated grunts told of his frustation. Adam paused when your fingers caught his wrist.
"Patience," You reminded him softly, "Take your time."
With your guiding hand, he realigned himself. Pushing, his cockhead finally caught on your hole. His eyelids screwed shut and his hips stuttered. Although the reason eluded him, he had missed again, accidentally slamming himself against your bundle of nerves. His brow furrowed when your back arched, but he nonetheless continued his attempts, only to meet the same results. Your noises grew louder, and with a particularly strong push, he finished.
"I'm sorry."
It was the first time, in that which you've known him, he had ever stuttered.
Adam felt his whole body lock up and for a microinstant he feared he would stay that way. Then, his climax lulled over. All the energy he had left spurted from himself in opaque ropes, until finally he collapsed on top of you.
Adam groaned defeatedly, "I did not do it right."
"No one way is right," Your arms met at his back, "We reached our ends, which is a success in my book."
This is kind of random but... cockwarming and size kink just make sense with Adam. Something about being held by a mountain of stitched-up tenderness really gets to me.
His lips are parted, eyes closed in bliss.
You're sitting on top of him, his huge cock buried deep inside you—but you don’t move. His strong arms are wrapped around you like tight wires.
The size difference between you is staggering.
You feel like a tiny flake melting into a massive iceberg. The thought only heightens your instinct to cling to his broad shoulders, to hear him gasp when the tip of his cock brushes your deepest spot.
God—he’s so malleable. So touch-starved it hurts.
“Look at me,” you murmur, kissing his heavy eyelids.
Adam gasps, and timidly lifts his eyes to meet yours. His hands tremble where they hold you. His skin isn’t cold anymore—it practically blazes, alive only because of you.
You kiss his stitched cheek. It’s wet with tears. Salty.
You don’t flinch when his grip tightens suddenly—possessive, almost overwhelming. His massive hands dig into your flesh, and all you can do is let out a quiet gasp full of love and awe.
“I-I’m sorry,” he chokes, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t... shouldn’t have taken you away from them.”
You pull him tighter. Grind your hips just a little.
The stretch is unreal, but you swallow the moan—it’s not about that right now. This moment is sacred. It’s not about lust. It’s about surrender.
“You saved me—” you whisper, voice muffled against his skin as you bury your face in his neck. “You... saved me.”
He freezes. Trembles. Chokes on a sound like a sob.
And then he holds you like a prayer—like you're the only thing in the world he believes in. His lips find your shoulder. Your throat. Your mouth again, soft and wet and desperate.
“Do you... love me?” he breathes.
Does he even understand the meaning of those words, or is he just mimicking something he once heard—something he hopes is real?
You burst into tears. “Yes! Yes, I do.”
He kisses you like the world is ending.
And if it is—if this truly is the end—then you wouldn’t want to die in anyone else’s arms.
Basketball players!Gojo and Geto trying to see who can get the most slamdunks before the winner gets to slam you into the locker room bench, they’re lil’ good luck charm.
⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back
⤀ cw: afab!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱
⤀ notes: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv ( i’m not talking abt his constellation ) rbs + feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡
“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.
“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.”
While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.
Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…
A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”
How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor?
That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders.
“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”
That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips.
“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist.
Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust.
Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity.
You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips.
For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting.
But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.
“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips.
“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance.
Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.
Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”
It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked.
Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…
Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”
His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress.
“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom.
He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.
Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed.
The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp.
“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts.
It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh.
He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.
“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”
True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile.
“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.
“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..”
You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark.
He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls.
Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.
“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”
And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight.
Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.
You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.
Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb.
“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.”
He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles.
“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”
With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.
The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.
Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source.
But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place.
“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy.
With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.
It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more?
Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.
Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand.
“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”
His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips.
He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire.
“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.
You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.”
Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”
He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size.
Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round.
“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”
It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips.
Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame.
“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.
And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin.
The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst.
“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.
Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”
He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts.
Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure.
A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet.
Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars.
The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering…
He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone.
Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything.
A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life.
Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.
“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—
“I know.”
You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart.
“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.
“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.
Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed.
How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.
Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again.
Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven.
But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him.
What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.
“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”
Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”
“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him.
White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing.
Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more.
You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.
There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is.
In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting.
He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.
From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over.
“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”
Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.
“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.”
Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...”
Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.
“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure.
The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.
“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours.
It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself.
And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused.
“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.”
Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.
“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.
Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please.
But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.
“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.
He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.
“More?” he whispers.
It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”
A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”
Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name.
Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette.
Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless.
“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”
“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.”
He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his.
When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.
Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention. Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.
“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”
He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.
“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.
At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming.
As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does.
He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly.
It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.
“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.”
And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about.
“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”
Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.
There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.
“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”
In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm.
Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.
Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.
“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”
Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth.
With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.
He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white.
A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable.
Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face.
“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”
“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.”
He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.
“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”
His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.
edit 10/2024: please Do Not Follow if you are “just here to read,” with the expectation that i will post more fics of this caliber, or any fics At All. this is mainly a selfship blog with VERY occasional writing, thanks.
notes2: writing this took years off my life, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank u sm for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡
notes3: here is a little visual of how i imagine the dress at the beginning to look like, but of course you can always imagine it however you like since i’ve purposely left it rather vague : )
Synopsis. How long does it take for the demon king, Ryomen Sukuna, to figure out why you summoned him? Three hours. How long until you wonder whether you’ll make it out of the bed aIive? Well…
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, demon king! true form! Sukuna, dp, Sukuna’s second mouth, big tongues, oraI (fem rec.), he’s BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, MARATHONS, creampíes, ínnapropríate use of POWERS, unprotected, DOUBLE the cúm, cúmplay, slight bréedíng, d slipping, HEADLOCKS, manhandIing, he calls you “master”, p talking, p sIapping, squírting, he goes FÉRAL, ríding his second tongue, spítting, overstím, making Sukuna whíne, breaking the bed, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 9.2k
A/N. RlP that puthy ayyyy!!
Lo and behold, late tonight found you boredly thumbing through pages upon yellow, moth-eaten pages of a dusty demonology textbook you’d acquired from the very back of your campus library.
And maybe it was sheer tedium, maybe it was your recent lack of…satisfying exploits - but the man in the illustration you were currently ogling at was smokin’ hot.
“Ryomen Sukuna: King of Demons.”
Your eyes greedily skim from his tall, towering figure, to those naturally chiseled abs. And was that a second mouth on his sculpted front?
Television whirring softly in the background, you thumb over the short, scrawled-out incantation right underneath his picture. According to what the book claimed, it was for those who wanted to summon the king. Oh…couldn’t hurt. Right?
Biting your lip, you let out a huff of disbelieving laughter before starting to incant it.
Stuttering, unsure.
And once you’re done, well, nothing happens.
You set aside the book with a sigh, turning to the tv that was now only playing repeated, flickering static. What else did you think would happen? Pressing frustratedly on the remote, as if-
“Summoned me, mama?”
Fuck.
The book you were just reading described Sukuna as big - but he was big.
And standing right in front of you.
Well over seven feet, muscular frame taking up every inch of your cozy living room. You can’t help but gape at everything from the cherry blossom-pink strands of slicked-back hair, to the thick rings tattooed ‘round his feet.
And he had two of everything - two sets of big, beefy arms just covered in veins that popped when he crossed his arms, two sets of dangerously crimson irises that roamed over your cutely trembling figure sprawled across the couch.
You had. Summoned. A demon.
And he really did have a second mouth gashed across his stomach.
“Or should I say…” Sukuna’s husky baritone sends stark shivers skittering across your skin, something he’s sure to not miss. He lets out a low whistle, “-master?”
“Wh-who are you?” You’re sputtering out stupidly, even though you already knew the answer to that question. It was right there, boldly titling a section in a textbook that you were two seconds away from throwing at the demon’s head right now.
“Heh- as if those puny human arms could do much damage to me.” He’s gruffing out, “I might even like it.”
It hits you in an instant then. Sukuna’s plump lips curl ever-so-smugly when your mouth drops at the realization that he’d just read your mind.
What the…fuck.
Your heart pulsates so loudly that you almost miss his next few words-
“Language, mama.” Sukuna’s feet thud! thud! thud! closer to you, every step reverberating an echoing shake of your apartment infrastructure. He kneels until he’s almost eye-level with you, and you can’t help but shiver at the heat radiating off in scorching waves from his hulking body. “Ryomen Sukuna, King of Demons.”
“W-well I’m-”
“I-I-I already know who ya are, silly brat.” He mocks, with a roll of his eyes. Rude, you huff. “The first dumb lil’ human to summon me in eons. And the first one so pretty, too- keh, don’t let that get into your head, just tell me what you summoned me here for.”
You’re shaking your head frantically, every ounce of will in your body trying not to think about just how you’d summoned the fucking demon king because you were…horny. “Can’t you just- I don’t know- leave? Go back?”
“Doesn’t work that way.” He seems to be enjoying your pain more n’ more by the second, both devilish mouths curving up into a smile that showed off his gleaming canines. Sharp.
“What if I take it back?” You try to reason, hands throwing exasperatedly in the air. “Un-summon you so you can go back to your…wherever you came from, and I don’t have to tell my landlord about changing the rent.”
You probably looked a mess right about now. But, at least in your defense, how were you supposed to know that spontaneously-borrowed demonology books might actually work?
And Ryomen Sukuna looks at you with all the patience of someone - a demon - that well and fully expects you to have known. “Stupid human. First you summon the king and then you want to send him back? I should curse you and fifty of your generations for this.”
Heaving out a sigh, he seats himself on that cottony carpet of yours. So monstrous, so strong that every piece of loose furniture is thrown two inches in the air once he does.
You yelp as you cling onto the tufted cushion of your dear sofa.
“I, Ryomen Sukuna, am contracted to stay in the human world until I accomplish the task my new…master has summoned me for.” He drawls out, pinkish brows quirking. “So spit it outta that pretty lil’ head now before I should hope you know how to take care of the demon king.”
You breathe, voice as fragile as if it was about to shatter into a zillion pieces against the slightest gust of air. “Take care…of a demon…king.”
“The demon king.”
Great, your brand-spankin’ new roommate was the king of demons.
“F-first things first.” You move to get up from your helpless position, trying not to let your knobbly knees trembly unsteadily as Sukuna watches you with interest.
Shit, even seated he was such a staggering size.
All rippling muscles and big, big…
Shaking your head to rid it of thoughts you knew he’d enjoy, you disappear into your laundry room to find the biggest oversized t-shirt you had stored away.
Striding back into your living room, you find him still sitting obediently for you. Unimpressed at your findings, yet still obedient. You’re presenting the piece of cloth back to him like a shield, “Wear a damn shirt.”
For your sake more than anything. Because it didn’t matter what baggy white pants Sukuna had on, having his upper half so shirtless and…attractive really wasn’t helping.
Fuck, if you thought the illustration was hot then it didn’t do enough justice for the real thing.
“Haaah? Stupid human customs. This get ya silly brain distracted or what?” Sukuna grumbles, though one of his four arms reaches out for the t-shirt. Close. And before you can snatch your fingers away, just one of his long blackened nails skims your sensory pads.
Too close.
Just one split-second touch and the king’s sultry eyes widen, nostrils flaring a fraction once he takes in a deeeep breath. You can’t force your eyes away from the tight, toned heavals of his cushy pecs fast enough, snapping your eager gaze back to his as if nothing ever happened.
Only to be met with a leer. Sleazy. “Though, maybe I don’t mind, mama.”
You find the rational part of your brain pricking with slight concern at the whiplash-like change in Sukuna’s tone. Though, most of it is overcome with utter relief as he wears the top.
Even though it doesn’t change much.
Despite being a t-shirt so big on you that it travelled all the way down to your knees, it barely even covers half of his cursed second mouth. Pulled so taut that you could map the exact circumference of his puffy, maroon nipples. And the slightest movement makes your tense living room ring out with a threatening riiiip–!
And on either side of Sukuna’s ridged obliques, he’d punctured gigantic holes for his two extra hands to flex through. Large and intimidating.
Raising a teasing brow, “This better, master?”
No, your mouth waters. And yet, somehow manages to shape out, “Y-yes.” Desperately whirling your pupils anywhere but at him, they finally find themselves landing upon the tick-tick-ticking clock on the far end of your wall. 12:01AM it showed. “And it’s late, I have early lectures tomorrow so…”
You didn’t. And you hastily pick up the demonology book from your coffee table to make sure that Sukuna couldn’t sense lies. Given the little you know about him already, you wouldn’t be surprised.
“So you can make yourself at home on the…” You’re wincing, realizing that your shabby couch was much too small for an above-average height human let alone a fucking demon.
“Hmmm?” Before you can do something stupid, like offer Sukuna your own bed - or better yet, you right along with the bed - he clicks! his thick fingers. And in a sudden puff of smoke, your humble sofa had transfigured - exactly the same, but bigger.
Big enough to fit him.
Shit. Your tummy lurches, he really was the real deal.
And even though you felt slightly disgruntled about the way this all-new furniture was jostling your poor television stand, you’re giving him a jerky nod in reply. Alarmed, you dart towards your own bedroom with a soft gasp of something like ‘goodnight!’
Hopefully when you woke up this would all be some strange fever dream.
.
.
.
You couldn’t sleep.
Though, that’s not for a lack of trying - no, according to your glaring phonescreen, the time was 2:53AM and you’d spent almost three hours tossing n’ turning fussily in your bed.
And it was all Ryomen Sukuna’s fault - well, indirectly.
Because you might not have heard even the faintest peep from him since you’d slammed your bedroom door shut, but you mind still raced a mile a minute over the fact that he was inevitably there.
And the fact that…you gulp, your thighs squeezing together through flimsy cotton shorts. You were still as horny as when you first summoned him.
…Fuck it.
Your patterned sleep shorts end up on a sad heap on the floor, padded digits gliding over just the swollen hood of your clit. “Sh-shiiit.”
By now your legs are splayed nice and close, heart curdling in your lower belly once you reach for that familiar second drawer on your bedside table. The one that’s hidden away. The one that opens up to show off a hot pink rose toy you kept for nights just like this.
Though, usually you didn’t have a demon sleeping over.
But you digress! Sukuna would be none-the-wiser; the demonology book had mentioned his superhuman olfaction, but it said nothing about super-hearing abilities.
They also did mention - several cautionary times - about the risks of summoning a demon, and how a summoner and demon shall live together as long as the task dictates. Sometimes even forever, with the contract sharing immortality.
So…
With this in mind, you’re biting down on the gummy insides of your cheek to push back the heavy pants that battle to depart. Eardrums perked in the direction of your door, your fingers scratch impatiently against the power button near the base and let the sinful bzzzzz knock on each of your four walls.
Not a sound from Sukuna. Good.
The sparkly tip of your cute lil’ toy kisses your clit and you moan, smearing it in a wet little glissade around n’ around.
It was sooo wet - your needy pussy. Even more so than usual, at this point your jittery thighs were just coated in a fresh lacquered layer of syrupy slick. Drenching down to your silky bedsheets and ringing out the most pornographic squelch after squelch.
“Fuh-fuuuck–” You’re whining, watery peripherals locked on the frigid vibrator tip teasing perfect eights near your sloppy hole.
The plump crowned tip of your toy was such a pretty shade of ruddy pink - one that reminded you so much of Sukuna. Shit…maybe this was a bad idea. Because all you could think about right now was whether he would-
No, no you can’t go there.
Spanking your throbbing clit with the firm base of it, silvery strands of slick dangle and squirt out from you repeatedly. Wanting and wanting, and no matter how much - you wanted more.
Probably.
“S-su…Kuna-” You spit a hot mass of webbed saliva that dollops down the tip of your rose toy, promptly aligning it in front of your dripping cunt. In front of where you wanted him- it the most before-
“Battery low…powering off.”
Heart plummeting to right between your legs, you take one look at the flashing battery indicator on your rose toy and sigh. “Fucking hell.”
“S’where I’m from.”
“Fuck!” You drop both your vibrator and your jaw to jerk your head towards the origin of that low, rasping, unfortunately familiar bass.
And there, hunched right in front of your now-open bedroom door, was Ryomen Sukuna. Two of his bulging arms homed right above the banister to your entrance, helping him lean down. Other two crossed over his bulky chest, grinning. “That’s the objective, brat.”
Perhaps you’re simply frozen, perhaps you like the way that Sukuna’s half-lidded eyes were rovering allll over your body without a shred of embarrassment.
“H-haven’t you heard of knocking?” You’re whimpering, sticky thighs closing in together with a stinging plap!
And Sukuna has the audacity to look almost disappointed when he can’t see that heavenly sight between your legs anymore. Stepping one foot - two - into the clouded headiness of your bedroom. The pressure in the air was so thick that the maneuver makes your skin prickle with frosty goosebumps.
He’s ignoring your previous question. Snickering, “I know you were thinkin’ about me, mama.” Closer. “I know you were moanin’ my name while you toyed with that pretty lil’ pussy. I could smell that you were in sweet ovulation ever since ya gave me this damn t-shirt.” Too close. His capped knees strike the edge of your mattress, making it groan underneath the weight - and you felt like doing much the same right about now. “I know why you summoned me here.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Two.
Three.
Before you open your cottony mouth- “W-want you, Sukuna- please.”
And one minute Sukuna’s hovering over the end of your bed, colossal figure casting a shadow over your body - the next, he has two meaty palms slapping down on your ankles. Kissing your lips, kissing your thighs.
He’s draaaagging you from your position near the very tippity-top of your pillows to him.
Down, down, down.
All the way until half of your ass dangles off the bedframe until he cups a ravenous handful of it. Tittering, Sukuna’s kneeling - the king is kneeling - on your bedroom floor with a dull thud! that makes your cunt flutter.
“Ohhh look at ‘er throbbing already.” He’s tittering, hazy gaze clinging to your adorably squirming body as if a moth to flame. The honed edges of his nails trace all along your thighs, raw carnal need. “That greedy f’me, human?”
“P-pleeeease—” You’re gasping, your own nails clawing red, red train tracks along his thoroughly veined forearms.
One spank of his doughy soft-tipped fingers exactly where your slobbery hole was leaking the most, and the sweltering hot wetness of it is almost dizzying. You watch with your mouth agape as Sukuna brings his treacly covered digits down to his stomach mouth, letting it sluuuurp all the dewy goodness of your sugarcoated slick. “That all you can say?”
Another clingy slap brings you out of your sweet reverie- you’re hiccuping out a scratchy, “N-nooo. I wan’ your mouth, Sukuna- ngh, I want-” You can’t stop your eyes from drifting away to his toned front, that mouth.
And Sukuna notices, of course, he does.
“Ohhh, ya really are a greedy lil’ thing, huh?” For a second, you swear his bloody lids widen in sharp surprise. Before Sukuna throws his head back with a cackle- “Of course, master, anythin’ ya want.”
Oh, that little nickname makes you arch.
Roughened, calloused hands crack your legs apart until the rounded curves of your knees hit your tits. Sloshing out a watery clump of spittle that puddles all over your overspilling slit, “But first, we gotta stretch this lady out reeeeal wide.”
You can’t even say a word, you can’t even register what he’s saying before Sukuna hunches over your damn bed and gives your pulsing pussy a good French kiss.
And just as monstrously big he was - his tongue was just the same.
Putting your rose toy to shame, he’s prying open your gluey pussylips with a single swipe of his filthy muscle. Simmering tastebuds splashing soggy smears all along every nook n’ cranny of your cunt, the underside of his tongue comes thudding down your heated clit with a harsh thwack!
“Nghhhh– fuck, Sukuna”
“Can’t hear ya, pretty mama.” He’s groaning into your slick-glossed folds, the carnal vibrations making your heaving chest rip with such raw squeals. “Louder. Make those hah- pretty noises louder f’me.”
The fat of his tongue was licking you up deliciously. Urging out bucketloads of honeyed slick, bucketloads of moans upon moans upon moans- “M-more- mmpf!”
“Not you, brat.” Sukuna bites out, though his strained throat trembles with amusement at the way your cute voice pitches. Thrashing as one upper hand treks up to muffle your unhinged mouth, he makes such a big show of letting your pouring sap sliiiiide down his open tongue. “Shut up n’ let me talk to her.”
Slurring slurps upon slurps that thunder in his ears like his favorite song, each n’ every one that he nods along to. Such a lecherous conversation.
“Mhm. Mhmmm, you’re heh- right.” His scorching hot breath tickles your pussy, and you can feel the way his handsome smirk curves into your aching flesh. “Yeah, she is fuckin’ filthy, huh? What a needy girl…”
Every gyrating motion of his head grinding the tip of his nose into your achy clit, pressing down like his favorite toy button. N’ dragging your tender nub up and down up and down up and down.
Clammy hips lurching the perfect curvature off of your springy mattress, your cute whines slip through his thickened fingers. “I-inside, want you- haaah-”
To which the only answer you get is Sukuna pressing down to shove your head into the softened pillows, snarling. Gritting his lustrous canines in a smile as his skin tingles with power-
Your perspiration-stuck forehead crinkles at the feeling of atoms and axioms stressing to a stop in the air all around you. Crackling with such power.
“What are you- oh.” And then you’re kissing - not just anyone, but the king of demons’ second mouth. Transferred all the way from where it was slashed across his stomach right up to the pulpy mountain of his palm. Gooey tongue plunging past your lips and into your own maw- “Ngh- fuck! Su-Kuna- Kunaaa–”
“Hear that? Callin’ the king ‘Kuna’.” Sukuna tuts, nibbling along the outer lips of your cunt and leaving bitemarks for days. “N’ for that, suck my tongue a lil’ bit.” Pressing even deeper, “C’moooon, can feel the way you’re drooling underneath me. Open that mouth, mama.”
And how could you not let your gasping lips droop even further pathetically open?
Because the taste of his slithering tongue was so addictive, like mulled wine and the sweetest of something that made an urge inside your fuzzy mind yearn. Your lips swirl around his probing muscle and suck-
“There we go. Theeeere we go. Shit, the dirtiest lil’ human I’ve e-encountered my whole life- heh, where the fuck have ya been my whole life?”
Punishing you, punishing your pussy with a barreling crowned tip of his digits smooching your flooded entrance.
Drawing delicate lil’ hearts all over your rubbery hole before he flicks at your gummy orifice and sinks in. All the way till his attractive, stocky knuckle was just winking up at him from underneath your saturated lips as if to say hello.
All glossy and soaked-through. Beast-like nails thankfully retracted, Sukuna’s fingers were just so thick that you could almost taste the fat circumference of him in your throat.
Just feel him swab every inch of your mushy insides without even trying, curling into every sweet ridge and geyser that makes your wailed whines sing. Louder and louder. The knotted mess in your belly tighter and tighter.
Oh-so-loud even through his unrelenting hold on you, you’re feeling your dizzy pupils circle and circle the whites of your eyes before sliding all the way back.
“Should banish ya for that.” He’s tugging you to and fro with both his broiling hot maw and his fingers toying with your pussy. Eyeing the way you spurt out something so thickly viscous that it streaks down his wrist; he lets the stray excess slather all over your sensitive clit and suckles. “But I liiiike you- like this pretty pussy. What a cutie she is.”
Pussydrunk. You had the big, bad king of curses pussydrunk.
You don’t know whether he’s talking about you or your cunt and right now you don’t even have enough brain power to wonder.
Not when Sukuna’s second tongue rolls straight inside your unhinged maw, the scratchy graze of his buds driving you wild. The slap of his tongue against the roof of your mouth fills your dazed eyes with such copious volumes of tears.
Ones that make him gluttonous. He is a demon, after all.
You almost feel as if you’re about to break into hysterics once his parched, cursed mouth rovers all over the caramel-salted beads of your tears. Lapping n’ lapping it up off of your teary face.
There’s a sudden plop! from below you, and you’re ogling once you feel your elastic walls stretch out even more under a second- third one of Sukuna’s fat fingers. Prying your syrupy pussyfolds aside with his teeth, he’s staring up into your heart eyes dead-on.
Scissoring them inside you, the knobbled fringes of his fingerpads whack back and forth into the targeted crevices of your sweetest spots. Probin’ into spots you didn’t know existed.
Holy shit, if his fingers were this big then how huge would his cocks be?
“Chehhh- don’ know where you’re droolin’ more from, here or there. Filthy human.”
Massive palm lumbering over your mouth to knock the gusts of wind off your lungs and make you bask in the wiped puddles of spit you’d made on his hand.
You’re bubbling out in even more tears and mewls. “I-I’m so close.” Stuttered cadence reaching such a feverish high point, the insides of your thighs burn as you meet his thoroughly plapping mouth. “Gonna- gonna…”
“Yeah? Better cum soon before I make ya pay for makin’ this mess on me, brat.” He’s gruffing ‘round your pulsating clit, rumbles making you see white. One spank to your dripping pussymound, the other to right on your g-spot. “Hop to it, human- cum f’me. Cum.”
You didn’t need to hear the pressurized pop! of your eardrums to know you were cumming, because Sukuna’s mouth smiles against your lips. Both of them.
Slow, sensual while he dragged you heedlessly through your high. No matter how much your stimulated body wriggled and wrenched though the white-hot bliss, you were no match for his complete strength.
Desperate.
He’s lapping up every. single. ounce of your gushing ribbons of slick like he was a man starved, and it was hitting the back of his throat in decorative gulps.
Sukuna’s snarling canines entrap your pulsing clit, tugging— “What a goood fuckin’ girl. Ya like that? Like cumming all over the king’s face?” It makes the tips of his ears burn flaming red to watch the way your toes curl, panting. “Sweet. Sooo fucking sweet.”
So much leaking out of you and yet, it still wasn’t enough.
Still pumping your goopy cunt with solid thrusts, he’s striking your weepy hole with a slab of saliva that only leaves you wetter. The razor-sharp hit of it making the darkness behind your closed lids burst with stars.
“P-please.” Your spit-slicked lips trembly non-stop, bleary eyes fighting to focus down at Sukuna. Where he was still addicted.
“Hmmm?”
The mounds of your heels rest on his bulky shoulders and start to weakly push, “Please- pleeeease, m’s-so sensitive, Kuna- hck!”
“Oh?” His deep tone comes out almost…delighted. Thick locks of blushed pink plastered all over Sukuna’s sweaty forehead, and he has to spy up at your adorably awe-struck expressions through his long lashes. “S’that sooooo?”
Mean. He was so mean - and the only thing meaner than Ryomen Sukuna himself was both of his tongues.
The one making out with your pussy steals another drawling drag over your quivering pussy, and the other shoves his lengthy muscle so far deep in your throat that he can almost taste your shocked whimpers.
“Fuh-fuuuuck–!”
“Told ya already- that’s the heh objective, silly brat.” Sukuna’s hissing out as he finally, finally pulls away from your pussy with a resounding, claggy mwah! A similar plop! sounding from your mouth when he sets you free from that, too.
The gulp of scorching air you’re drinking in almost chokes in your throat once you get a good look at Sukuna.
The entirety of his pointed chin, up to the curves of his high cheekbones was just covered in a thick topping of your slick. Glistening rivulets of it hitting your open thighs with pap! pap! pap! You could barely see his eyes through those mussed-up bangs of his - but you could tell they were wine-red and just as drunk, glassy, gone. Overworked tongue gliding slowly all across his glossy lower lip.
And was he- was Sukuna blushing?
“Oi, don’t think stupid shit.” His grumbling cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts, rouge-dusted skin flushing even darker.
Without another word, Sukuna darts his peripheries over at the splashed pools of your dumbstruck spit on his palm - his now-normal palm - and smirks. “Keh- so messy.” And before you can rebuke, before you can bluff, he spanks his drooly hand over your cunt and smears it down everywhere.
“Sh-shit, stop teasin’.” You huff and puff, unable to look away from the huge bulge that was tenting Sukuna’s billowy pants. He looked big…more than big, actually. And your thighs clench as you wonder whether twice of everything applied down there, too. “Wan’ you s-so badly, Kuna.”
“Huuuh? Don’t tell me that human brain o’ yours is cockdrunk already.” He scoffs, catching your gawking. “Impatient impatient. I haven’t even accomplished your first request, spoiled brat.”
“What first…”
Oh.
Oh.
The leaden ball in your throat grows about tenfold as Sukuna straightens up from his sexy slouch, showing off the way the lower half of his too-tight t-shirt was so drenched that it was see-through now.
Sopping even wetter by the second when his other maw slobbers with torrents of greedy drivel at the just the sight of you. Drooling through the fabric. “Guess we got a lil’...impatient.” He thumbs over the mess he’s created.
Just at sight of you.
Pulling- ripping that useless shirt off of him, Sukuna lets his fat, massive stomach tongue flop! out between your boneless legs. Fuck.
Striking you with the flat underside of his oversized tastebuds, proudly licking up the fresh batch of slippery slick that’d just begun pouring out from between your folds. Anticipating. Tense.
Filthy.
“Would ya look at that?” Sukuna croons with that mean tonality from above, two arms wrangling your legs pinned open. Wiiiide so that his cursed maw can fit between. Another hand roaming down to his bulge and massaging, “Was just complainin’ about being ‘s-s-sensitive’ but look at ya now.”
Before you can even blink, his colossal tongue constricts out until it’s about two, no- maybe even three feet long. And just as thick, too, he has to swirl n’ swirl all over your drenched inner thighs, the crevice of your pussy, your tight hole before being able to fit just the tip inside.
“Oh my- o-oh- ohhh fuck!” You’re shrilling with cracked vocals, feeling the slushy inches of his tongue crawl past your walls.
Shit. He felt even bigger than he looked - and that was saying something.
Sukuna’s stomach mouth was just so biiiiig that he wasn’t easing even halfway inside your awaiting cunt before the ridged texture of his tongue scratches your g-spot. He doesn’t even have to try until he’s stretching out your pulsing pussy in ways you’d never even imagined before.
Suddenly thankful for the way the king had trained your gummy walls to open up just earlier, you’re clawing at your best, soaked-through bedsheets. Fisting them. Tearing through.
“What happened to ya?” Sukuna croaks out in a thickened voice, leaning over to change up the angle so that his second tongue was pinpointing your tenderest orifices. Purposefully flicking over to peck your cervix before he slobbered allll over your magical spot. “Not so t-talkative now, huh?”
And it was true - just about the only thing you’re managing through the masses of drool overflowing your mouth were broken syllables of “Yes!”
Only to get strangled inside of your throat all over again when he stretches out his tongue and lets it slather your heated flesh with a clingy coating of salivated spit. Probing and probing oooout until he somehow skims over your throbbing clit.
You’re letting out the cutest moans of his name, so loud that you faintly think your neighbors will have a thing or two to say. “K-Kunaaa—” If you make it that far, that is. “P-please, can’t any nghhh- longer.”
“Again, mama?”
“Yes, yeeees- fuck!” You don’t know where you’re fountaining more from, thick drool seeping from both sets of your lips. Every slap! of Sukuna’s tongue makes you buck even more animalistically, “Please. Please, m’not gonna…”
You feel a clawed hand hang off of the curve of your lips, tugging on your glissading body so that you crawl backwards and hit Sukuna’s pink happy trail with a spank!
“So fuck back in hngh- t’me, human.” He groans, holding you stockstill until you can do nothing but drag and trawl the stinging mounds of your ass over his sculpted front. Guiding you to pound back, to rut– “Ride me. Ride me.”
Your mouth floods with fresh flints of heat and drivel, “Wh-what?”
“Fuckin’ ride my tongue like a good girl.”
Shivering, it’s all you can do to plunge your hips in such a messy back and forth. Core tensing, pussy sloshing slick, head bobbling like one of those stupid dolls. Long tongue reaching eeeeeverywhere, every time you guide him to your most favorite spots - his, too - he gives you a congratulatory swat of his perky tip.
Grunting, “Faster now. Faster.”
On shaky legs, your tempo is so fuckin’ messy that you feel your skin flare up until it’s as if you were melting. Repeatedly.
Melting all over Sukuna’s girthy tongue, where he was furiously pumping in and out of you. Your knees creak, letting him drill the curve of his plump budded muscle into your g-spot. In a deep kiss over n’ over n’ over–
And with a final sluuuurp, you’re falling apart on the king’s tongue all over again. Your high sprinting all down your bent spine as if it was the first time, no less intense.
No less sudden. No less leaving you yelping.
“Oh- oh my god-”
“Jus’ your cute ‘Kuna’ s’fine, brat.” Sukuna has the audacity to giggle - giggle - at the way your dazed eyes criss-cross apple sauce. And it was so cute how your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing and creaming around his mouth. “What a slutty pussy ya have.”
You tremble with the bolting aftershocks of your orgasm, the high making your brain a stupid fuzz of nothingness. “S-so sensitive-”
“Yeah yeah, she’s sensitive.” Forcing your mouth to fall into a perfect oh! when he promptly slaps your quivering pussymound, rudely. Bucking his hips in a little one-two to fuck you through your soaring high, the friction makes you keen-
“Kunaaa–”
“Chatty chatty.” He’s leaning over to crash his lips filthily against yours, suckling on the sugary beads of spittle that leaves you like his favorite dessert. Sharp fangs sinking into your wobbly lower lip, “Why don’tcha beg for a change, lil’ human?”
You’re sputtering, “Wh-what do you mean-”
“Beg.” He pummels two fat fingers between your mouth, slithering the bulbous crowns of his finger against the back of your thrashing tongue and pressing. Hard. “Beg for your king.”
So smug.
Even smugger when he leverages the hold inside your mouth to open you up widely agape and spit- One generous helping inside your maw, another generous helping from his stomach mouth inside your cunt.
“P-please.”
“What was that?”
“Please!” Tears streak hotly down your cheeks, and your pretty sounds make his cocks twitch. “Please…fuck me, Sukuna.”
He pulls his long fingers back with a smile, satisfied. Lips curling even wider at the saturated globules of spittle that dribble from the ends of your mouth n’ to the tips of his buried digits. “As you wish, master.”
Your heart raced so hard it almost hurt as he’s tracing a teasing few fingers over the thick hem of his pants. The usually-loose fabric was now so packed with all the endless inches of him that it took a few tight tugs for Sukuna’s leaking, globular tip to peek through.
Immediately a juicy trail of pre butters from his divot in a creamy topping. You spy just the spatter of his scratchy pubes tufting together - drenched, the same rose pink that his cockhead was blushing.
“S’pink.” You babble off mindlessly, a drunken smile gracing your face. “S’cute.”
“Cute.” Sukuna breathes out, crimson eyes wide. Crazed. And both sets of his mouths leer as if he couldn’t believe what the fuck just fell from your mouth. He’s seething, “Cute?”
With only one hand stuck to the edge of your waist like adhesive, he flips your entire body ‘round so it sprawls into the plush mattress and pins you down. Kneeing your spine so you squirm helplessly, pushing and pushing until you whine.
You hear a long teeeeear–! echo in your ears, and as you get your thoughts together you’re realizing that he’d torn his royal trousers off. Adding it in a pile of tatters beside your bed, right with your newly-ripped sleep shirt.
Sukuna’s rugged hips hump against the mounds of your ass like an animal, and oh…he really did have two sets of everything.
Exclaiming breathlessly, “S-Sukuna you can’t be hngh- serious.” Fuck, he was serious. Dead serious. And a singular look over your shoulder told you that so were his cocks.
Aching, swollen. You count about thirteen inches - each.
So thick that they were proudly fatter than even the girth of the tongue across his washboard abs. Stacked one on top of the other, his upper shaft was slightly longer, dripping wet with sappy globules of precum that formulated a little puddle underneath him.
At this point you’re openly gawking.
Because not only were they massive - they were textured. In the most prominent of puffy veins zig-zagging all down Sukuna’s pinkish-beige length. Darker at his heavy hilts, rubier right on his mushroom tips.
Your mouth waters hotly just aching to feel all of him - both of him - inside you…
Spank! The demon soothes over those five exact prints of his fingers on your ass, then moving over to your damp pussy to gift yet another swat. “Intimidated? Ya wanted ta fuck a demon, so you’re gonna fuck a demon. Tch- spoiled brat.”
Letting off a pitchy mewl, you sliiiide the crevices of your cunt all over his drenched cocks. “Give it t’me- fuck, I n-need it so baaad.”
“What was it ya said, lil’ human?” Sukuna grouses from above, you yelp when you’re feeling his second mouth lather down your thighs allll over. He rests two hands on your hips and ruts– “Oh yeah- cute.”
And before you know it, you feel like you’re being split apart.
You feel like you’re seeing heaven behind your shuttered lids and smooching Sukuna’s monstrous, rotund head with your lungs. So impossibly thick that he was swabbin’ around your insides just by settling himself inside your welcoming channel, greeting your sponged cervix with a nice snog.
“Oh yeah…cute.”
Strong, heavy hands are the only thing holding you up as your knees weaken, and a hand wraps gently around your throat from behind. Lurching you up, up, up to meet Sukuna’s mouth in a kiss.
Holding you up, with just one hand.
“S’this ‘cute’?” He seethes against your dangling-open mouth, ridged buds hot. His own words hot. “Yer real fuckin’ lucky m’going easy on my lady, mama.”
Going easy on you?
If this was going easy on you— then you didn’t know what to think about him going hard.
But it’s like the very idea was simmering right underneath Sukuna’s sweltering hot skin, just brimming right underneath every motion of his body. About to break through. About to make him snap when he plants a thorough pound. Then doubling to two. Four. Eight.
“Oh f-fuuuuck–” You’re sobbing out, useless head haphazardly tumbling until you’re peering face-to-face with the way he was battering rams inside of you. “So deep- s-so deeep-”
A hand of his flies up to muffle your ever-breaking moans, the sloshes of your drool sticking against his doughy flesh in strands.
“Kehhh- ya ever stop makin’ a hah- mess?” Sukuna tightens his vice-like grip on your throat, and as you raise your head he makes sure to dig his fangs into your pulse. Planting another thwack of his bruising palm, “Just sh-shut up n’ take it like a good girl, yeah?”
“Y-yes.”
“Say it. Say it f’me.”
You’re sobbing at this point, and a third of his hands spank your waterfall of a slit until you manage to look up at him. Spank after spank. “G-gonna take it all.” You’re sniffling, “Like a- like a good girl.”
It was impossible to utter anything more.
His sleek, bloated tip was an expert - rovering over each of your hidden nooks and crannies. Dappling out thick wads of pre that you felt swash around you with every slap of his hips. Rough.
And it was a damn good thing that the king had stretched you out so much, because he was long. Driving a spherical welt right where his cock whacked your sheened cervix, and he was still pushing. Still rutting until his slightly unruly hair tickled your tender lips. Deeper-
“Ohhh can ya f-feel that?” Sukuna stutters out in scratchy heavals of air. Slowing down his harsh cadence until it reaches a looow n’ slooow pace that leaves your voice pitching into equally lazy whines
There wasn’t anything that you couldn’t feel.
You could count every curvy bump of his veins massaging your deepest innards, the wet texture of his slick-glazed shaft tunnelling into you like a madman. Like he was addicted. And Sukuna’s chubby breeder balls sizzle against the backs of your thighs as he feels a hand up your stomach.
Feeling for that one spot near your cervix - your womb. That one spot he was fucking a rounded tummy bulge into you.
“Feel me heh- making you bulge with all of me, pretty mama?” He leans a few degrees backwards to thumb at the way your pussy was quivering, your stretchy hole flexing n’ molding all around him. “So big that this pretty pussy doesn’t know what ta do w’me.”
You’re trembling at the feeling of his secondary tongue sleazing over your dripping entrance, everywhere and anywhere.
Like he doesn’t know what to do. Where to ruin you.
He’s drawing a long line of translucent spit up until he reaches that gorgeous mound on your stomach. Circling. Worshipping right where he was fucking you stupid.
His tastebuds loop once around your leg and start jostling the angle so that your clit grazes with something thick. And hot. And…rock hard. “N’ I’ve only put one in.”
“O-only- fuck-” You’re voice wavers and cracks unstably when you cum once more. You can’t even control it - can’t do anything but cry out with every jolt of your body. Every spark. Every flash of heat when you’re lolling helplessly backwards.
Sucking his teeth in from the way your warm insides squeeze him on instinct, “Oh- you’re sensitive, mama.” You’re barely half-opening your eyes before he’s rummaging your insides everywhere.
Ballooned-up cock crownhead poking the bullseye of your g-spot, he licks up such greedy flicks in and out. The only blissful sensation you’re given other than the trawling grinds of his other vein-covered shaft smacking against your nub.
“Kuna- Kuuuuna—” You’re mumbling, feeling the slope of his cylindrical outline slide in feverishly. “Give me ‘nother- other–”
“Don’t you talk t’me outta ya pussy, brat.”
“M’serious.” Your voice shakes ridiculously much, thickened with lust and pure need for more, more, more. His ripped abs press deeper to listen to your adorable whimpers, “I want it. Want it s-so bad.”
“How cuuuute.” With a swift, thundering slap! you’re feeling the mushroomy tip-top of his matchingly achy cock pry between your gluey pussylips. “Better not blame me when ya end up ngh- pregnant, master.”
You think you might be crashing headfirst into your fourth orgasm - perhaps even your fifth when Sukuna lets his swollen, blushing tip nudge against your tight lil’ entrance. Fluttering, stretching when he pokes away your dewy folds and grinds in–
You’re flinching at the wet plap! plap! plap! of something wet hitting your back - only to realize with a turn that Sukuna was drooling. With saccharine lines of saliva overcoming each side of his maw.
Dilated pupils so dark that you can barely find a trace of red, Sukuna bores into your eyes. Hypnotized. “Take it.” He pants against your lips in great gales of summer heat. “Take it.”
If you thought that one of Sukuna’s massive lengths was enough to make you dizzy, then you weren’t ready for what two could do to you.
He’s barely flopping in his rigid, tight crownhead past your snug hole before your mouth bursts at the seams with ripples of sleek saliva.
“Fuck- fuuuuuck!” Your fleshy cervix almost stings with the way he was mazing all through inside. Pushing n’ pushing until the strawberry-pink divot right in the middle of his throbbing cock also kisses the goopy bottom of your pussy.
He was spreading you wiiiidely open.
So massive that you’re left squealing after each spanking jackhammer. Your gripping pussy nothing against the way his slicked mess was coating your mushy insides, swirlin’ around and around until his globed tip locates sweet spots you’d hidden away.
Jostling and sliiiding against each other, the viscous jetstreams of his pre glissade down each of his lengths. Throbbing inside you at the very same pattern of your heart going ba-dump–! Prodding away until you’re weak, the curled hairs decorating his bases rub your skin raw.
One of his fattened-up shafts shovels into your bruised n’ battered g-spot, while the other digs away at your fleshy cervix. Both at once. He’s poking and prodding and stretching.
Two in one.
In the blink of an eye, Sukuna grabs your neck with the curve of his big, bulging biceps. Dragging your poor head into a fucking headlock of all things.
One hand smearing open your cunt to slobber down each inch by fucking inch, the other crowning your sweat-dampened head to push you down. And two more were guiding your delicious hips. He was treating you so rough. Manhandling you.
He was so sculpted, all curves and firm muscles that massaged your backs soothingly. Sukuna’s sweat-laminated abs smush and scratch some primal itch inside of you.
“Mmmm, made ta take my cocks.” Sukuna rasps in your ear, all primal need. “This turns ya on? Doesn’t it? This-” The final of his rugged palms press into the base of your spine, arching you right. “-makes ya wanna fuh-fuck?”
You’re nodding and nodding, head lolling back into the cushion of his pecs. So lush.
And it’s all you can do that Sukuna finds not a single shred of shame in surging up his cursed tongue once more to thwack! your bulging pussy.
Tightening the headlock until his veins pop out and rub the tender skin of your neck. Until you’re wheezing for desperate air- “Hehhhh, even f-fuckin’ deeper now.” He palms over the bulge at your tummy that had now grown in size. Raising a dark pink brow, “Even bigger. Feel me all up inside?”
Flawlessly, Sukuna raises the tendril of his tongue to wrap around your adorably throbbing clit. Outlining slobbering little hearts that having you screaming-
“Yeah? Tell me. Tell me.” Stretching and stretching and stretching until a claw-ridden thump presses into the lecherous protruding bump. It’s so firm and heavy underneath his sultry touch. Dewdrops of his cream splattered everywhere, “Tell me all-” Pressing down hard. Harder still. Snarling, “-tha’s on your ngh- mind, silly brat.”
“K-Kuna–”
“Yeeeees?”
“M’gonna cum!”
Within just two blinks of your tear-heavy eyelashes, Sukuna’s got you flipped onto your back. Chin hitting your chest at the slight bouncy recoil, a shrilling whine of disappointment makes its way to your throat-
Right before Sukuna fucks it back in again with a fast burial of his weighty cocks, and then your upcoming orgasm.
You can’t even string together slews of proper syllables anymore, your tongue smacking uselessly inside your unfastened mouth. You cum looking allll up into Sukuna’s loving eyes.
“Tch, wan’ned to see your- ngh- your cute face when you cum.” He grabs your teary pussymound with one bulky palm and gyrates on your overstimulated clit. “Cum. Cum.”
And not only do you cum – you’re squirting.
Barely even realizing it before it registers in your mind that the sploshes of watery liquid coating your body wasn’t just tears n’ sweat, it was your sappy slick spraying out in bucketloads. Utter bucketloads.
The streaming spurts of it struggle to burst past your lips with the way that he’s ramming furiously into you. Aggressively, even. You’re whimpering with each fat webbed mess that manages to trickle down to the sheets below your ass.
“I-inside.” You’re muttering, inaudible. And yet, Sukuna hears - of course, he hears. The perches of his barrelling cockheads giving a dangerous sort of twitch!
And that’s all said before the king of demons glues together your sticky inner thighs with piling heaps of his cum. Gasping. He’s finishing in such a vulgar way that marks you as his from the inside and out.
First his upper length, and then his lower. Twin rivulets of stringy seed that hit the back of your pussy with a squelch–! so loud that it rings in your buzzing eardrums. The mass weight of it so much, so striking that you almost find yourself wincing.
Flooding every ounce of space inside you — and not only did his monstrous cocks bawl out way more than your average human, he had two of them. And oh, it was so hot…
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Sukuna growls, hips papping yours mindlessly. You swear you’re seeing the skin around his pelvis redden angrily at the impact. “Fuh-fuck I— fuuuck.”
He’s hunching over you, skin against boiling hot skin. Speckles of beaded sweat seem to trail down from Sukuna’s temples and fizzle in the mere air between your bodies.
Rough, rugged fingertips cling onto your hips, and two more of his hands throw your twitching legs pliably over Sukuna’s bulky shoulders. Locking them behind him, bending and bending and bending into a mean mating press.
He was just pumping you full, and that inflationary bump in your tummy swashes over with ribbons of cum after every thrust. Making both you and your overworked bedsprings whiiine.
“O-oh my god.” You gasp, tiny clumps of air your current salvation. Sukuna flicks his eyes drunkenly over to you and meets your mouth with his palm - manifesting his second mouth there in a sloppy, sloppy kiss. “Mmmm—”
“Wh-what did I ngh- s-say, pretty mama?” Sukuna’s smug tone was gone now. Hoarse. Cracking into so many octaves higher, even.
You’re only watching through partly-spellbound eyes as he languidly slithers a hand down to cup both rummaging shafts still plugged away inside you. Firm. His sweat-slicked brows furrow, boring down at you through strands of cerise. “Y-you can jus’ call me–” And then you feel it happen. You feel him harden. “-Kuna.”
Scrambling up onto your elbows, “Kunaaa—”
“Atta girl.”
He was getting impossibly harder.
Bigger.
And you swear the fat girth of his matching cocks were even thicker than usual. Plumping right inside of your slick-glued walls, your pussy sticks against him like gum when he throb-throb-throbs rock. fucking. hard.
Feral-like shafts twitch and flinch with even the tiniest of your primal clenches, prodding your cunt like magic, and you were quite sure that it was magic-
“Blood manipulation.” Sukuna grins, still catching his breath. And yet he was already moving, already rocking back n’ forth. “Ohhh- you didn’t th-think we were done, right?”
You whirl your eyes downwards to watch in some animalistic awe at the bump formulated on your tummy, oh-so-obvious now. And Sukuna’s ramming juts leave the bloated mound jiggling.
“Fuck- fuuuuck–” Mewling, as if a broken record. But it doesn’t matter how many times you’d repeated it, just your pretty voice makes it Sukuna’s favorite song. “M’s-so…”
Sensitive.
Your thighs writhe every time he dabs his full, rounded crownheads against your g-spot. Beating. Shuddering. With a sob, you’re fisting the splintered mahogany of your headboard and pulling yourself–
“Oi oi. Where’d ya think you’re ngh- runnin’ off to?” His lengthy stomach tongue creeps between the wetness of your thighs to circle one of your limbs and drag you dooooown into him. Grating your tender clit into his soaked hairs.
“D-dunno if it’ll all-” You nod haplessly towards the ever-gushing sploshes of seed and slick swamping out of you. “-fit.”
“Oh, I’ll make it f-fit, lil’ human- don’t you hah! worry.” Sukuna snickers, scraping your scalp with one hand to stop your cute wrangling. Pushing you down, spearing you. “You just sit baaack n’ take it.”
The room wrings with a sudden slap! Once. And then twice. And then so many repeated times that you couldn’t count how many harsh rolls of his hips it took for you to cream ‘round Sukuna’s cocks once more.
You can’t even feel it at this point, can’t even breathe.
But that familiar knot at the base of your stomach twists and suddenly your vision blanks with white-hot euphoria.
Mere trembles but intense. It’s so good that your toes curl, clawed nails dragging down his broad back.
“Cumming again?” He’s musing, curved veins stretching your fluttery core. It was so cute the way even biting down on your trembly lips can’t stop your moans.
And then you throw your head back with a sob of ‘K-Kuna’ and Sukuna thinks he’s going fucking insane. Veering right down the one-way street to madness as he swivels his hips hypnotically to draw a pretty milky heart at the base of your cervix.
Before topping his masterpiece with such aroused oodles of cum, and ohhhh- the demon’s finding himself tilting his head back attractively. Just addicted to watching the way your tight pussy overfills past the brim with all his sugarcoating seed.
More.
More more more.
Allll night long, and even when rays of dawn break through your fluttering curtains. Birds chirping outside, cards revving, and yet the only constant was that repeated spank! of skin on clammy skin.
He’s filling you up with second helpings, thirds, fourths- you’ve lost count at this point.
In every position possible, on every surface until the both of you felt more like animals than people. Though, well, maybe Sukuna’s demon-like nature was rubbing off on you. More n’ more every time he filled you.
So much so that the torrential currents of it - thick and taking up every inch of space inside your snug channel - are pushing Sukuna’s fat, veiny cocks out of your pussy. Out past your flashing folds.
He had you back on the bed now, the plush mattress so soaked-through that every ram makes it ring out a soggy schwf! Your legs dangle down somewhere near Sukuna’s slobbery mouth, where it was supposed to be some hazy mess of a mating press - his favorite.
And it’s slippery.
His pulsating lengths are having trouble pushing and sliiiiding off of your sheeny folds, lathering itself in more and more of an utter mess that the both of you were making.
But what Sukuna didn’t expect was for your throat to burn with a carnally furious whine. Ripping up and out of you once you’re reaching a shaky hand below - not even managing to close your hands around both his hilts - and squeezing them back inside with a waterlogged plop!
He’s fucking you like it was second nature, something dark and primal that made his entire body wrack with shivers. That made this famed king look at you with tender wonderment- before slamming a free hand down on your wooden bedframe.
So powerful that the poor furniture cracks! right down the middle where his hand lay - and that was not the only thing that broke.
No, Ryomen Sukuna was close in second place as he flaps his peripherals scrunched shut with a grunt. Those slapping rams increasing in pace and sound until he empties his breeder balls once more.
And it felt like the nth time he was gasping into your parted mouth while he cums.
Both dicks all soooo sensitive n’ red while they swirled around thin wires of squishy cum, opening up your tummy bulge so full that Sukuna can’t help but thumb over it fiercely.
“Please- please–” You’re begging now, and you think that the trembles of electricity bolting from between your legs meant that you, too, were orgasming. Not even properly. For the…what time was it now? “Inside. Inside, Kuna.”
“Inside.” He echoes, as if it was the only thing he could. “Inside. Gonna k-keep it ngh! all inside, pretty mama. Yeah, fuckfuckfuuuuck- gonna be mine.”
Oh, he was babbling now. He was actually whining.
Gingerly licking his kiss-bitten lips at the frothed ring of cum that painted his happy trail white. The schwf-schwf-schwaf of his tickling hairs polishing your skin with swift smears left you drooling.
And Sukuna was, too.
From both mouths that bubbled with glinting tracks of sweltering hot saliva. His wheezing gasps strained, “H-heir.” He’s cupping your treasured tummy - your womb. Overfilled.
Sukuna watches with bated breath as your filthy, cockdrunk brain told you to open your mouth wide and slurp up a few of his leaking wads.
“O-oh.” More cum sticks against your thighs like icy white frosting, spraying inside and outside and everywhere. “Fuuuuck- yer real interestin’, human.” His perspiration-sheened forehead drifts down to yours, curtained with unruly pink hair. “R-reeeal interesting…master.”
Ah, that makes you throb.
And it makes Sukuna’s shaft veins pulse rapidly as he cums - though, only in a few lecherous pearls of ivory sap. All adding onto the sploshing waves of seed inside you- before the rest of it is nothingness. Even though he feels it, even though he knows it.
You just made the king of demons cum dry. Even with his superhuman powers, ohhh your stamina was fit for a…queen. His queen.
Sukuna lumbers down a beefy arm, loving the way your eyes ogle his every muscular flex. His own glazed over with a teary film.
His thick n’ ready fingers wrap around his sloppy bases - not even minding the mess, he loved it. Both holding his sagging weights up and slipping himself through the filthy, saccharine puddles inside. Your heart races with anticipation once you feel the bzzzz of powerful energy in the murked atmosphere between your legs; his blood manipulation at work again.
Ohhhh fuck, you already knew his night was going to be a long one. Never-ending perhaps.
Your suspicions are confirmed when Sukuna’s dual tips twitch–
“S’never gonna b-be ngh- enough.” You’re batting your lashes sensually, words still hitching with the constant shocks of your orgasms upon orgasms. “M-maybe you should just ah! stay here w’me, Kunaa—”
And oh, he simply grins a wicked grin like you’ve never seen before. “A-anything. Anythinganything for my fuuuuck- master.”
Synopsis. Suguru Geto, the resident nerd who “helps” you with your homework. Tall, gloomy, mean, and- and an alpha? And he’s in rut?!
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! nerd! Geto, ruts, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pánty-sniffer Geto, he goes FÉRAL, MEAN Geto, headIocks, slightly bímbo! reader, dúmbifícation, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, MANHANDLlNG, Geto with glasses + tattoos, overstím, knots, first times (Geto), pússydrunk Geto, MATÍNG BÍTES, oraI (f + m), p talking, spítting, praise, he’s POSSESSIVE, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.8k
A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3
“Please, Sugu—?”
“No.”
“I’ll let you keep my panties?”
And that makes Geto shudder, breath hitching into something dangerously husky as he pushes his thick glasses further up his nose bridge. Greedy gaze darting anywhere but where you were oh-so-vulgarly leaning towards him. “Tch- as if I’d ever…”
With a grin, you shift to show him a flash of cherry pink peeking out from underneath that sinfully short skirt of yours.
Purposefully.
He was gone.
“F-fine.” He’s gulping, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d goaded the ill-tempered campus genius, Geto Suguru, into doing your- ah, “helping” you with your homework. “But-”
Before Geto can ramble away the usual lecture about something called “academic integrity”, you’re jumping up and tackling his towering frame into a hug. Pressing the curves of your tits into his Digimon t-shirt - just as a little treat - and flouncing excitedly back to your friends.
But what you didn’t notice is the way that makes Geto stiffen.
His tummy lurching, nose raising into the air-
Oh.
You smelled so sweet.
Geto’s spit-slicked lips part open to steal a sharp gasp of the sweltering lecture hall air- it couldn’t be. And his bleary irises can’t even focus, can’t lock on anything but the figure of you mere feet away.
…Could it?
With a slight tilt of your head, you’re staring back at him - and something…carnal pangs through his suddenly-boiling veins.
Then you smirk- and Geto twitches.
Fuck.
He would’ve crashed onto his knees right then and there if it wasn’t for the way that you proceed to dig through your cute, useless bag - still in the middle of a conversation with your friends - and throw something flimsy and pale pink at him.
No shame. No regrets.
None for either of you; but especially not Geto once his strong palms reach out to urgently scramble for the shred of gauzy fabric in midair.
Tangling the stringy satin between thick, ringed fingerpads, he’s sinking his face into its sugarcoated scent before sinking into the realization that you’d had the audacity to throw your fucking panties at him in the middle of a bustling seminar.
Yet, he was even worse - jaw slackening, broad chest heaving with rasping ahs! as he drinks in loooong repeated puffs of your pheromones. Coating his brain in melty molasses of sugar and spice and you.
There was a reason you were the most sought-after omega on the entire campus. With your filthy skin-tight outfits, and your flirty smiles.
And him? He couldn’t get enough.
Smearing away a sloppy splotch of saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth- when had he even started drooling? Geto watches through watery peripherals as you mouth a smug “an advance” at him, and saunter out of the class in your tightly-knit group.
Too tightly-knit, if you asked Geto. Dead-on stare narrowing, he catches the way one of your so-called friends brush away an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder.
Just barely. His head snapping towards Geto when the latter growls-
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
He was fucked.
.
.
.
Listen, it’s not as if you make Geto finish all of your homework - just the ones that you found too tedious, too complicated, or too time-consuming. Which might just happen to be all of them, but you digress!
He was more than happy to collect those slutty scraps of silk you called “panties” and you were proud to keep your streak of having the second-highest GPA in class (after the man himself, of course.)
The more important the grade the more sinful the panties.
After all, it wasn’t as if you minded all of Geto’s fiery stares at you during lectures, the spark in his eyes when he tried to drill a difficult concept into your mind, or the way his dark lashes would flutter drunkenly the moment you got too close.
In fact, you might even admit that you…like it.
Because Geto was hot. Fuck- he was fucking pretty.
You’d seen just how fawny his amethyst eyes were behind those clunky glasses. Lengthy Stygian hair, so many inches above six feet, and biceps that pull his gamer t-shirts so taut that it made you wonder what was underneath.
But it wasn’t as if a nerd - and a beta, obviously, though you didn’t care for secondary gender - like him would ever make a move.
Hell, he barely even talked to anyone other than the professors.
All grumbling and rude. It took you weeks to even get him to acknowledge your existence, and that was only by giving him an “accidental” glimpse of your red, red bra strap.
So you were mostly fine and dandy with this lecherous transaction of yours. Geto was smart; he was never a minute late in emailing you your surely A+ worthy work before their deadlines, and you’d gift him his little treat just the day after.
Except- you were lounging on your couch as the 12:00AM deadline for your latest essay rolled around and there was still no sign of Geto. Not a single ping from your inbox.
With an impatient thumb, you’re idly scrolling through the sparse chat history you’d all but bullied him into sharing with you, brows furrowing deeper and deeper at your plethora of ignored texts and calls.
Nothing new but, seriously…
Scoffing as the clock tick! tick! ticked! its way to 12:01AM.
He was late - and your homework was, too.
You’d been feeling a little too…feverish tonight to attend that one party your friends had invited you to, and thank your stars for that. Because not even minutes later, you were stomping the few blocks down to Geto’s apartment building and all the way up to his white-painted front door.
“Hey, Sugu—” You rap your knuckles harshly on the wood, exasperated. “Are you in there?”
No answer.
Huffing, your heated skin stings where it clashes even harder against his door. Impatiently, “Hah- making an omega walk all the way out here…I should take back all those panties I gave you. Yaga deducts points for late submissions and I am not leaving until you come out.”
Still no answer. Not even a sound.
“In fact, I’ll only get louder.”
Not even a breath.
That was…strange. He should’ve at least come out to shut up your racket so that he can study, if not at the mention of your panties.
And right now your annoyance was being washed away with sharp waves of concern, a nervous bout of laughter escaping you as soon as your hand falls on the door handle to find it shockingly unlocked. Oh?
You and Geto might not be the best of friends, but you wanted him to be alright goddammit.
“Better come out and stop me now, unless you want me to barge in!” You call out, jostling the cold, metallic knob for good measure. It holds firm in your hand, the only thing grounding your swimming mind as you bask in a second of silence. Two. Three. Before sighing, “Have it your way then. I’m coming in–”
Then it hits you.
Slow, at first. Like a smell from a distant memory that you find yourself aching for - find yourself stumbling a few steps inside Geto’s cozy apartment and devouring in generous lungfuls.
You slam the door shut to cloud yourself in the saturated air and gasp.
This was nothing like any expensive perfume you’d smelled before. It felt like your entire body was on fire, like every one of your pores was scorching from deep inside. Like you needed him.
Head whirling with the heady concoction of caramel salt scent and those dark undertones of wine. Something so dangerous. So tempting. So…Suguru.
You jolt. He was in rut.
Wait, rut? Geto Suguru? Wasn’t he…wasn’t he a beta?
You swear he was. You didn’t know what was happening, only angling your head up for more and more and more-
Shit, you’re shoving your thighs together before you know it. Already feeling the slippery stream of slick that sloshes past your pussy lips and puddles at the bottom of your underwear. And you know you’ve never been wetter.
“A-anyone home?” You’re straining out, the doughy mountain of your palm rubbing mindlessly up n’ down through your thin skirt.
Undoubtedly, there’s still no response. And yet, it’s almost as if he’s calling to you - and maybe he is.
Feet wrenching one jerky pitch after the other, you have to balance yourself on the hallway walls to fucking keep your sanity.
And to perhaps stop your weakened knees from slipping you into a pile on the polished hardwood floors. Perhaps to stop yourself from breaking out into a run to wherever your inner luna was clawing to take you.
You breathe, “Th-this isn’t funny, Suguru…”
The soft thuds of your padded steps thunder in time with your racing heart. Louder and louder. Deafening by the time you’re catching sight of a large mahogany door at the end of the corridor that waves ever-so-slightly ajar.
Where those hypnotic pheromones were the most saturated. And your mouth waters.
It’s only once you’re reaching it - trembling, standing stock-still, right outside what you now assumed to be his bedroom - that you realize Geto was calling to you. Well, more like he was calling out for you.
Your name.
In soft, breathy moans that make his rich baritone crack.
“Get the fuck in here.”
.
.
.
The moment Geto Suguru catches a glimpse of your oh-so-cute face - the moment he senses that you’re actually, honest-to-goodness here - he cums.
And he can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help it.
Even dabbing the fat of his massive thumb right over his bawling tip can’t stop the heaping torrents of gooey white escaping from him. Such slick ribbons upon ribbons crawling their way up Geto’s washboard abs, you can only watch with bated breath as his messy, round globs of seed trickle up n’ down until they drench his dark happy trail.
Your watery thighs stick together, maw falling agape because you’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined this.
You had. Once or twice or many, many times.
All splayed out on his Digimon sheets like this; meaty thighs cracked open, silky locks slathered across every inch, glasses fogged up. Ruined. Geto’s sweat-shimmered back arches off the outdated bed springs with a creak! while his hand flew furiously up and down his swollen cock.
Shit, you’re biting your lip. Syllables jumping roughly off of your heavy tongue, “S-Suguru?”
SLAM!
It’s like the sound of your voice does heavenly wonders to him.
Plump, tender balls squeezing, Geto’s free hand encloses behind his sweaty scalp and onto the headboard above him. Hard enough that the sturdy frame snaps, pale biceps flexing enough that you find your skin clammy with need.
“Fuh-fuck.” He’s hissing through clenched teeth. Staring right at your meandering form through dazed half-crescents, mouth departing endless husked grunts. And oh…oh a few more dewy droplets of cum spray out of his bawling orifice once you gulp. “Look what you’ve done t’me.”
“Y-you’re an alpha?” You finally manage to find your voice.
He snickers, the murky scent of the room growing ever-stronger. And even more than that was your own scent, mixing and melding until you felt dizzy. “And you’re in danger, little omega~”
Your widened gaze grows to lock on the way that his rugged fingers continue milking out creamy sploshes of cum. Expertly flying up, up, up– before fisting his hefty base with an airy sigh.
Large. He was so large.
And in so many ways more than one.
An alpha. He was an alpha.
Seductively sculptured body dwarfing his single bed with what looked like miles upon miles of toned, tall muscles. Were those tattoos spying out from the sides of his back?
A syrupy geyser of sap formulates between his two legs the size of your head- this was Geto Suguru?
And his cock - oh, he was so perfectly massive. Oversized, even in Geto’s engulfing hand.
So painfully hard that he was blushing a blossoming magenta near the very tip of his globular cockhead, throbbing. Pulsing. Thick lightning bolts of veins gripping down either side of his pink shaft and all the way down to his breeder balls.
With a harrowed gasp filling your lungs, you’re spotting just the barest fringe of something soaked-through and gauzy tangled underneath his digits.
Fuck.
“Is that-”
“This?” Geto grins - grins. You’ve never seen him smile let alone show off this dopey, predatory leer plastering all over his flushed features. A gentle dimple embeds near his curled lip, and he quirks an eager brow.
You can barely even think while he untwines the frilly pair of panties you’d thrown at him in class from around his aching cock. Sticky and stretched now, it finds home right near his flared nostrils as Geto brings it up and sniffs. Crazed. “C’mere.”
The rawest of glints twinkle in his half-lidded vision as you inch closer, the way you tremble on your two feet like a newborn fawn was adorable. And he can’t stop himself from letting out a low whistle–
“Yeah. Good fuckin’ girl.”
Your body kneels you right by Geto’s bedside before your mind can even think to catch up. Head lolling lecherously against the wide plane of his shivering thigh, you let your tongue lap up a pearl of his buttery white cum and keen. He was even bigger up close. “Sugu—”
“Nuh uh, gorgeous.” Geto tuts, gravelly tonality rendering you confused just as much as you were needy. His two palms grip the crown of your head to peer upwards, “S’all because of you. You n’ those d-damn panties. M’not your hck! nerdy fuckin’ Sugu right now. Best remember that- m’gonna make sure you remember that.”
He’s more than gazing down at you, he’s boring right through you.
Spectacle frames creeping precariously down his nose bridge, tendrils of his shaggy hair almost curtaining him, pellets of sweat trickle down his temples and hit you in thin spatters. So close. And you wanted him closer.
“Tilt your head back, lemme see that ngh- pretty mouth.” One hand slips from your head to curl around Geto’s fattened hilt, nudging his puckered tip to strike your lips with a dull thud! “Count.”
“One-”
And it’s not once.
“T-two-”
Not twice.
“Three- hah!”
Not thrice, until he’s leaving your mouth whimpering and stinging with the slam of his rock-hard shaft slapping down your tender flesh. Leaving a slimy trail of pre and salty cum that leaks between your maw and drives you wild.
Then - and only then - is he wrenching you up closer. Manhandling your pliable body until the very tip of his perfectly button nose meets yours. So close.
Your teary lashes flutter halfway shut once you feel the foggy breeze of his breath scorching your face, cunt quivering with the anticipation of a kiss. His pheromones hit you in powerful gusts, your primal urges scratching up to the surface.
Closer. Too close- for a kiss that never comes.
“Heh. Cute.”
He doesn’t kiss you.
But before you know it, Geto pitches his tongue back and wets your shimmery pouted lips with a large wad of his syrupy saliva.
In just a split-second.
Bowing you back underneath him and stuffing your chatty mouth so damn full of his swollen cock that you can’t even think of anything else. Fat droplets of tears fountain up at the edge of your eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so split open.
He was eight- no, maybe nearing ten whole inches that scraped the back of your mushy throat with his ruthless mushroom tip.
Hard. Girthy.
Cratering out a wet circumference of bruises into your melty mouth with a singular thrust, and it wasn’t enough- fuck, it might never be enough.
Geto’s throwing his head back, toned core muscles tensing. “O-oh. This. Th-this is what it feels like?”
You almost wonder whether he even knew what he was doing once you feel a shaky thigh throwing behind your neck and reel you in close. Drawing you all the way up until your nose scratches his tufted pelvis, mouth hanging wiiidely agape.
“Sh-shooo big–” You’re mumbling through a scalding mouthful, slicked walls clenching at the realization that he had you trapped in a headlock. And by the looks of it, he was never going to let go.
“Yeah- yeah?” He shudders out, bass cracking into a zillion shatters near the end. Octaves higher. Unsteady. Meanly, Geto’s leg jostles you even further from behind to probe his shaft even deeper into your velvety mouth, your chin buckling underneath his curvaceous ballsack. Holding you still. Firmly. “Fuckin’ l-like that, don’t you?”
You can’t nod. You can’t hum affirmative. He was so bulky inside you that your lips sag underneath the sheer weight.
But your omega preens for the attention, sleek tongue zig-zagging over one of the pounding veins that poked into the roof of your mouth. And it’s enough of an answer for Geto.
Spitting out, “Oh yeah? Dirty girl. Didn’t expect your loser lil’ Sugu to have such a fat fuckin’ dick, huh?”
So fucking…rude, words teetering right on just the edge of being menacing. And you were just so gorgeous crying all over his cock like this, so much better than when you were hanging off of other alphas.
So much better when he strays a thumb to feel your filling throat, the way he’s lodged deep inside. Him. All him.
You let off a whiny gag the moment his blushing red cockhead twitches up ferally at the thought. The static cotton in your head making you slurp his length with a sloppy squelch!
He’s pushing up his glasses furiously, “Can you even take it? Seriously- acting so popular n’ mighty when you can’t even take my hngh- cock.”
And you’re about to rebuke, you’re about to- you swear.
But oh, he didn’t have mercy now.
“Whaaaat? M’just saying.” The ridges of his head press up all against every nook and cranny of your mouth, a silvery trail of drool now seeping from between your locked lips. Geto wipes away his own cobwebs of drool with the back of his mouth, giggling. Giggling when you scuffle, “S’it too big? Too big for our f-famous lil’ omega?”
Your throat aches something carnally delicious when he keeps a hold ‘round your neck to plunge into the waterlogged bottom. Bobbing your head in lewd maneuvers allll the way up n’ down. “Ngh- Sugu–”
“Hah- hah!” His glassy eyes gleam something wild, microscopic tastebuds watering all over again with just how intensely he was gawking down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that his eyes were glowing- “Why are ya still fuckin’ speaking, gorgeous?”
It wasn’t a Command, but oh did it feel like one.
Only mere moments later and Geto’s springing himself off of the bouncy mattress to shovel your hot throat full of copious inches and leave you spellbound. Swirling a lazy few half-circles of his heavy tip where you were most sensitive.
“Cool that pretty lil’ head. You’re cuter when yer like th-this, y’know?” He groans, feeling your slippery cheeks grip his shaft in an adorable hug. Knee drawing up even tighter to hold you still while he fucked your mouth the way he’d been wishing he could for so long. “All shut up a-and mine and…”
Ah, breath wisping away. He’s prodding your poor gag reflexes at the very same time he rovers up a stray hand to squeeze your nostrils together. “-only mine.”
“Nghh- G-etooo—” And yet, he still doesn’t let up. You’re cupping Geto’s plumpened balls with a delicately loving touch, lustrous strands of spit layering your lips. “Want you.”
“Hm?”
“Want you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Those are the very same words he’s been dreaming of every single rut since meeting you. And he can’t help himself, he can’t stop himself from letting out a slew of swears and cumming.
Shocked.
“Sh-shit—” It’s all Geto can do to bite down on the plush of his bottom lip and wrangle back those embarrassing fucking whimpers on his tongue, dewy eyes sparkling with a few overstimulated tears. “You’re gonna- f-fucking…”
But he’s not given the privilege to finish his thought let alone his sentence.
Just flooding your senses with the caramel salt of his scent, and his gobs of pearly seed. Every jackhammer has Geto pinpricking it on the back of your bruised and battered throat, every squeeze of his hand around your neck makes him drool out in wiry oodles of sap more and more and more-
“S’what you w-wanted, right?” And you’re sensing the way his scent tinged with something maddened, leaving your eyes popping. “Prancing around with your hah- p-pre-heat panties and your- fuck!” Geto fights to keep his eyes from flapping closed, “Take it- ohhhh take it all.”
As if you could do anything else.
Every tiny twitch leaves your cavern flooded. Geto was cumming so hard that it was overspilling from each crevice of your lips, a silvery waterfall of cum that he’s dabbing around a thumb to smear.
Letting your pouted lips wobble at the fresh topping of white gloss, “There’s a good girl. My goood fuckin’ girl.”
Oh, there’s no doubt in your fractured mind right now that Geto Suguru was an alpha. Inhaling his deep puffs of contentment, you’re arching your back mindlessly in delight. Throat loosening with the motions to-
“Don’t swallow.”
So mean.
You don’t think you’re given the split-second to wonder otherwise before he’s grappling for the pretty column of your throat and kissing you raw.
You’re gasping when his depraved tongue smacks down between the seam of your mouth to lather in every scorching hot mess of sap he’d left behind. The mess that he made. And he was only making it messier.
Watching you through barely-cracked open pupils while he scooped up the sticky webs of seed dangling from your mouth. Scratchy buds taking over. A kiss so filthy that you felt shy to even call it that.
“Mmm—” Geto’s skidding his tongue down the buttered length of his lips, flicking over any stray droplets he could find. And something in his eyes told you that he was mere seconds away from doing it all over again. “Not bad for a first kiss.”
Fuck- what?
“Sugu- what-” You’re panting out measly syllables through the gaps of his sappy mouth. “I-I thought you’d be more…”
“What? A heh- bumbling loser?” His eyes narrow down at you, words purring sexily. “Oh, gorgeous…”
Fuck, and if the rasping growl in his tone didn’t shut you up, the way that Geto’s throwing you onto the bouncy bed sure does.
He doesn’t have a care in the world, he doesn’t have a single thought other than ripping off your flimsy clothes. Everything but those very same cherry pink panties you’d teased up at him, well- more see-through than anything right now.
Kneeing apart your jittery legs to watch the way your cunt gushes in pure need. Lips curling into a leer at the way she winks up at him through filthy masses of slick.
“Sh-she’s mine now, isn’t she?” Rumbling out, eyes wide. Unfocused. And the look on Geto’s face made white-hot trills sprint down your spine - ones you couldn’t decode between primal need and fear. “She’s…”
Ptwah!
The vicious goblet of spit that hits you this time is somehow even meaner than the last, striking at the very top of your sobbing pussy and disappearing riiiight between your folds.
“Mine.” Awestruck, Geto bullies one capped knee to smooch up against your slit. Gleaming his heated skin with the bucketloads of cute sap that you kept pouring out by the second. Geto was greedy, he was grunting. “Beg for it, omega.”
You’re squirming underneath him impatiently, clawing all over his unmoving wrists. You ached all over for something. Anything. “Don’t- don’t wanna-”
But Geto had ten times your strength and wasn’t afraid of using it. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of using it - wasn’t afraid of pinning down both your trembly hands on the bed springs with one of his. Rutting his knee up even more mercilessly, murking his pheromones until it burned of salt and spice. “Beg.”
You mewl, “P-please-”
“No stuttering.”
“Please.” And if that wasn’t enough, you’re batting your lacquered lashes up at Geto in exactly the way you knew was his weakness. Exactly the way that got you the second-highest GPA for so long. Jutting your back the perfect curvature off of the bed, “I’ll let you k-keep my panties, Suguru—?”
“Oh, giiiirl—” He husks out, leaning in so close to plant a yearning snog on your mouth. Blushing pink lips wrapping around your tongue and sucking. You always got what you wanted. “M’keeping those regardless.”
In his special drawer for all your slutty underwear, of course.
And just as soon as Geto’s kissing your lips, he’s trekking his way downwards to make sure that your other ones don’t feel left out.
“Look at her.” He breathes, words taking on an airy tone that makes him sound as if he was furious. Blistering with the anger that he’s been deprived of the heavenly proximity of your soft, seeping cunt for so long. “H-heh, if o-only those tch- popular friends of yours could see. Just look- look how wet she is f’me. All me.”
A fattened thumb fringes past your panties, and you flinch at the cold press of his silver rings. Rovering all the way to greet your puffy pussylips in languid drags uuuuup and down, pricking his manicured fingernail on the button of your clit.
Geto’s hooded lids widen, heat rushing all over his cheeks at the sloppy squelches he draws out. So easily. Adorably.
And it was true - he did have a tattoo. A splashing inking of a dragon all across Geto’s muscled back, somehow making him even more unintentionally hotter.
“And look how loud mmm–” He’s kissing the mound of your folds like a lover, lingering. Loving. Stealing deeeeep gasps of your scent, “M’gonna ruin you. Ngh- ohhh, m’gonna r-ruin you, gorgeous. Ruin ya for anyone else.”
And when Geto meant he was going to ruin you - he meant it.
“Shit.” He was going to mush his pretty features up into your sopping wet pussy until you could feel every minute, warm pant. Staring right up into the target of your fuzzy heart-eyes, “How do you- how do you taste so good.”
Every gasp he’s drinking in of your murked perfumed pheromones, showering ‘round every sense and making him dizzy.
“Squeeze- wanna feel-”
And maybe it’s his rut, maybe it’s the way your tension was so thick - but you instantaneously know what to do.
To close your legs in a deadlock around Geto’s oily scalp. Your weighty eyelids bat up and down subconsciously at the attractive way he was digging his bulging biceps into the sides of your thighs. Pulling you in closer and closer and closer. “That turns you on, huh?”
But that wasn’t all- oh, that wasn’t what he was making out with your cute cunt and begging for.
His mouth lathers over with a fresh bout of watery spit the moment your rubbery ring of muscle clench all around him. Making every ridge of his hot tongue catch on your gooey innards, the texture of it enough to drive you positively wild.
“Sh-shiiit–” You’re letting out a primal groan, clawing at his tattooed back. Chest shuddering underneath the strain of one powerful hand pinning you down. Holding you painfully still. “Suguru- want more. More.”
Slipping his slick tongue in and out of your fluttery hole, Geto keens at the way your entrance kept on trying to suck him back in.
“Fuckin’ know-” In one second, he’s pushing his cloudy glasses up his nose, and in the other he pries apart your puffed lips and caresses. “Yer turning into a fucking w-waterpark, dirty girl. Even wetter than all that p-porn I learned from…”
You’re whimpering, legs falling further n’ further open until it burned your inner quads. No matter how deeply Geto stuffed his face between them it just wouldn’t be enough.
It was almost as if…
“Heat.” He’s slurring a looong lap of his grooved tastebuds all over the lustre of your sweet, sweet juices. Free hand wrapping at his favorite position around your neck and making sure to angle your head so that you catch the twinkling droplets of slick pouring down his tongue. “You’re in heat, little omega.”
Gasping, “W-what?”
But it made sense. It was falling into place and that only made you wetter.
With a smirk, Geto swats your hands until they tangle into his silken tresses. “Lemme take care of you.” SWAT! The plapping sensation hits you before the realization that he’d run his crowned digits over to spank your perked clit. “Ngh- just sit tight n’ let your nerdy ol’ Sugu here take g-goood care of you.”
He was pleading with you - begging you - to latch onto his pretty locks and grind your pussy in repeated gyrations all over his face. Guiding him, using the hook of his pert nose as the perfect ridge to rest your throbbing clit on.
“Th-thank you, alpha—” Too good. You were giving into something baser, to let your head loll into the cushy pillow behind you in sweeping motions. And it was so cute he could cum.
“Yeah? Who- who?”
“You, Suguru.”
“Damn right.”
With every drag of his hoarse syllables, Geto was trawling his face across every inch between the beautiful legs that you had to offer.
Purposefully.
You’re holding back his endless, inky strands just to admire how pretty he looked. How ravenous. Greedy.
Fuck, Geto was making up for all these years he spent parched. Spitting out streak after streak of spittle that made your pussy pour out all over his snogging mouth. “Gonna- gonna fuck you like this w’my cock next.”
His tongue folds into your slobbery hole and slithers into every tender orifice - so staggeringly long that you were feeling a lump in your own throat.
Just a few flops into your earliest magical spots and Geto could already hear the way you were fighting to hide your little sobs.
“Th-this right here-” He’s probing a finger underneath the panties that stuck to your cunt like adhesive, letting it spring back to hit you with a smack! Tittering at your yelp, “S’mine.”
Rubbing a fat few crowns of his fingerpads at the tender area underneath the base of your pussy. Pressing down. Hard. “And her? All the w-way from here-”
Drawing sensual patterns up, up uuuup all the way to your sensitive clit, and oh- it felt so right to have him draw sultry little hearts on your weepy hood.
Tugging it over to nip underneath one sharp canine - one that you swear had grown even longer in the last few minutes. Geto was gone in the depths of his rut, hallowing out his cheeks to eat you out as if he was a man starved. And you were his favorite dessert. “To here? S’mine, too.”
RIIIIIP—!
Through your glossy heaps of tears, you can make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto tearing your satiny underwear into tatters. Balling it up into a wad of sugarcoated fabric that he unapologetically stuffs in your drivelling mouth.
“Gonna add these t-to my collection.” You feel him smile against the outer edges of your claggy cunt, tittering at the stupid way your overspilling lips slacken with a soggy pwah! You’re hearing and feeling a long-winded woooosh from below once he takes a deeeep breath in with his over-delicate senses. “Th-thereeee we go. Cum all over my mouth, gorgeous.”
And if you were in any better state of mind perhaps you’d have noticed the way that Geto’s driving his hips into the bed like a damn dog when he sensed your scent peaking. Sensed you getting closer.
Ragged breaths striking your quivering pussy mercilessly and making your teeth sink desperately into the muggy jumble of underwear in your mouth.
Your broken moans burst out even through that particular watergate, right along with a slithery trickle of saliva and a huff of “S-Suguru—” Craning your head to watch his nostrils flare with knowing, “Close- clo- cumming.”
Eyes flashing. Heart thumping not just within your rib cage.
When it rains, it pours.
But you weren’t just pouring - you were flooding.
Such glutinous ropes of your orgasm, it sprays Geto’s sexy face in squirts. Clinging onto the edge of his glasses and forming little puddles right at the apples of his high cheeks.
Suddenly, you were oh-so-thankful for the way he’d stuffed your mouth mercilessly full - because by the rusted rasp in your throat, you’re sure you’re singing out shrill trills loud enough that his neighbors would file a noise complaint.
But that was the last thing on his mind.
The last thing- well, fuck, it wasn’t on his mind at all. Geto’s cooing at how unstable you feel, treacherous fingers mazing across your fat clit and giving her a goood few pushes just the way he would with his gameboys.
“Good girl-” he spits into your gapingly widened cunt, still suffering from the remnant tremors of your high and still slopping out wads of juices. Like a mantra, Geto’s dark brows scrunch in concentration, “Good girl good girl gooood fucking girl.”
Words hitching up into something shrill near the edge, he sounded as if he was fraying his sanity with every droplet of slick you pumped into his mouth. With every single second.
Pushing his aching hot cock deeper and deeper into the sullied sheets. More. He needed more.
Every sloppy swivel of your widely pried-apart pussy on his tongue made him leave an open-palmed smack! on your thigh. Other hand traipsing to pin your hips down with his big, vein-decorated forearm.
He doesn’t want to let go.
You’re barely letting off a whine at the lack of friction before Geto lets his mouth depart from your cunt with a soggy pwah! Leaving a final few French kisses on his favorite sweet orifice, he’s pecking a loooong open-mouthed pathway up to your loosened maw.
“Good girl…” He hiccups, clammy forehead sticking against yours. Each syllable struggles to wrench past the leaden ball slowly forming on Geto’s mouth.
The syrup-glazed lenses of his glasses clash into you, and Geto himself seems to notice. “Look what a fuckin’ mess ya made.” He’s gruffing out at the thick topping of oozing gloss that made the frame impossible to see through.
Immediately pulling back a few millimeters to take them off and dump them on your own nose bridge. Unceremoniously.
And it was so wet.
Almost as wet as Geto’s features were - all showered in gunky dredges of glistening sap. It streaks all the way from his pointed chin and up to his handsome cheekbones. Beads of it hitting your panting chest in a pat! pat! pat!
Heaving out a shaky exhale, he’s pushing away a few elegant strands of charcoal bangs.
“M’gonna…m’gonna fuck you now.” Sounding more as if he was talking to himself rather than you. Or perhaps both. Puffy folds being rubbed all raw with the depraved back and forth of his veiny under-shaft. “Gonna fuck you. So take it- take it.”
Geto stares deep into your whirling eyes while he sinks his hefty cock into you just as thoroughly. A clingy film sticks to his gaze, dazed and all half-hooded that you wondered if he could even register what was in front of him.
Crazed.
And he’s such a fucking tease, too.
Creating a slimy trail of pasty pre all over your weakened inner thighs, he drags his bawling divot all over every stretch of your entrance. Around and around in circles.
“B-big, huh? Better take it b-before I- make it- fit-” He’s echoing, dimples peaking out at the cute way your breath hitches once you feel the sheerly massive circumference of his fat tip. “Shhhh shh sh, s’alright- s’where you’re m-meant to ngh- be.”
Even for an alpha, he was always staggering - but having him stuffing you to the brim would be a whole other feeling. Would have you ruined.
You’re peering up at him through humid lashes, borrowed glasses smearing wet splotches of slick underneath your skin. Eventually, those panties had found themselves spilling out of your unfastened jaw, “Meant to- hah! be?”
“Mhmmm— pretty omega.” You’re hit with a sudden wave of coaxing pheromones, the gentle salty breeze making your hips buck subconsciously upwards. Subconsciously aching. “This s’where you’re ngh- meant to be.”
And as much as Geto loved hearing whiny questions bubble their way up to your spit-layered lips, oh- was it so much more fun to eye down at your speechless self when he snugly squeezes just a mere sensual inch.
Leaning back to watch the way his bustling cock was stretching and stretching and stretching your tender walls flawlessly. You were taking him so ridiculously well.
“Fuh-fuck you-” His plush pecs rumble with his bass from above, words tumbling. Hips rolling. And Geto was fucking gone- staring at you with wide, humorless eyes that you doubt were even seeing. “Fuck you- m’fucking you…fuck you fuck you fuck!”
With every sharp fah! being whirled into your loose mouth, Geto rubs his puffed-up veins into the tender mound of your cunt. You can’t help but count every rapid ba-dump—! his achy length throbs.
Desperately. Rutting and rutting just to fit himself inside.
Around the time he’s only halfway in, Geto circles one hand over his drenched base to skid taut O’s at the edge of your hole. Nudging his fat girth past your entrance and keening-
“M-more!” You’re barking out primally, your tongue tied into all sorts of bows and ribbons with the way this stretch was searing. And it was the best sort of tight fit, you were practically drooling all over again at the fleshy thwack! of Geto’s rounded balls smacking your thighs. “More, Sugu—”
“M-more…?”
It wasn’t just you - your luna needed more, too.
You’re nodding and nodding- only to realize with a harsh muffle of Geto’s palm over your noisy mouth that he wasn’t even talking to you.
No, he was tittering away in a small sort of voice. Octaves higher. Strained. Goosebumps smatter all across your skin at the way he sounded so unstable.
“More…” Irises flashing a glowy purple, fingers twitching where he held you. A loser like him. A nerd like him. “M-more she says.”
Fuck.
Without another word - without another breath - Geto’s flipping you around with only one beefy palm clawing at your hip. Shoving your face deep into the puff of his nerdy pillows, he’s bottoming out with just one thrust-
You think you scream, you think you bawl once you feel his plummy mushroom head draw a long line of pre along the insides of your cervix. And your pussy felt so full you could burst, your walls crushed with all overpacked inches of his.
Finally.
“Thaaaat’s it, that’s it-” He’s grunting through furiously clenched teeth, a hand crowning the back of your scalp and muffling your words into the bed. Hard. Fuck- he was going to pass out if you made another pretty sound. “S’where you belong.”
Ah, there it is - that little broken prayer.
Except, this time it was being respired in boiling hot pants against the tips of your ears. Was being wheezed out of Geto when he lurches his sweat-simmered hips back to hit your ass with a resounding pap!
“All f-fucked dumb on my ngh- biiig fucking cock, hm?” He tilts your head up with one hand, smiling to himself once he catches a glittery flash of spit leaking from your lips. “All…” A warm splatter! strikes your back, and only then do you realize that he’s slobbering. “Mine.”
And where Geto was talking all possessively - he was fucking you even more so.
In the blink of an eye, he’s planting two sets of fingers on either of your wrists and pulling all the way back, back, back. A length foot being placed right at the small of your spine to get you to bend in a delicious arch-
“Fuck!” Your cute voice rings hoarse, like music to his blushing ears. Struggling to regain the gasps of air leaving your lungs, “There- th-there.”
Oh, shit.
The way Geto was manhandling you was not only bending you in all sorts of lecherously pliable ways that had your slit dripping, it was making his rotund cockhead stub oh-so-viciously into your cervix.
Rough. Probing.
“H-heh, guess I lost my first kiss there, too.” He’s giggling out, biting down on the rugged mewls that threaten to depart every time your cunt swallows him whole. “Congrats on being my ngh- first, little omega— yer e-even better than my ngh- bodypillows of you.”
Bending you over ever-deeper, honestly- your walls were cloying onto him so desperately that it was making Geto’s heart pang with disappointment every time his ruddied tip recoiled back from the bottom of your sloppy pussy.
He wanted to be this close to you forever.
Treacling out stringy wads of pre, he’s furrowing brows and making sure each n’ every jackhammer fills you up impossibly.
You can barely grapple for air at this point, the sloshes of syrup left after each barrelling strike leaving you star-struck.
He grins, “Shit, d-do ya ever stop fuckin’ drooling? Gonna hafta call the f-fire department, girl.”
“Can’t help it–!” All you can do it let your mouth unlatch to warble whimper after whimper–
“C’mon now, gorgeous- aren’t ya ashamed?” Licking his lips free of your taste, Geto diverts more pressure to his foot. Hefty balls rippling wickedly against the sobbing end of your slit with just how easy you were to throw around like his favorite toy. Like his favorite figurines. “Look at what a mess yer making. Being fucked so f-filthy. And I haven’t even ngh- found it, yet.”
Haven’t found it. Oh, but he knew he was going to. He was going to make you scream.
Your syrupy whines slip into something desperate, “Y-you don’t know…?”
“Of course I f-fuckin’ know. Who d’ya think you’re ngh talking to?” As if you could forget you were being thoroughly pounded by the smartest person on campus right now. And evidently the filthiest, too.
A ringed finger treks down to your sensitive nub, soothing over where you were throbbing the most violently. Cute. Lulling you into a sweet, sweet state of bliss before Geto pinches–
“Oh p-please!” You’re targeting your hazy vision over your shoulder, and somewhere along the lines Geto’s spectacles had slid cleanly off of you. Toes curling as his bloated head bludgeons just the creamy edges near your g-spot. “Please- y-you’re so close, Suguru-”
You didn’t know whether it was your heat or just Geto that had you so desperate. Your sparkless mind blames the latter.
“Am I?” He hums, leaning over so that the soft tendrils of his hair tickled your back.
Whacking his painfully achy crownhead mere centimeters below your magical spots, and you’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose.
Geto starts holding it there for lingering French snogs into the steamy inner depths of your cunt and then you know he’s doing this on purpose. Spitting in your mouth with a smile.
That mean bastard.
Jittering your hips to chase the texture of his curly pubic hair against your ass, he snickers. “Are you ngh- suuuure? You haven’t done a s-single one of your ngh- human biology essays lately, dirty girl.”
You’re molding your lips into a pout - difficult, with just how many loads of saliva were pouring out of you and cementing a puddle onto the Digimon pillows. “F-fuck you.”
“No…” You set free a gasp of air you didn’t know you were holding the very second he lets go of the rough foot anchoring your spine, instead- in only mere nanoseconds you find yourself jerked up into Geto Suguru’s hold with a hand at your throat. Back gluing against his glissading abs, even his voice was unbalanced and trembling now. “I’m fucking you, little omega.”
And you were about to remember it.
With an immediate pitch of his gasping breaths, Geto’s angled hips go from steadily ruined to sloppy. Calculated.
He didn’t care if he made a mess of stringy slick that circled in the satiny sheets around the two of you, he didn’t care if your eyes were bulging out of their poor sockets when his pronounced hips dig into your backside with blistering bruises.
He didn’t care for anything but digging the curled fringe of his fatly bloated tip right into the target of your g-spot.
Mazing through your gluey folds and keeping them snugly open with his reddened girth, Geto knocks your sweetest spots with vengeance.
“There–!” You call out, as if he hadn’t already felt the gooey seize of your pussy trying to hold him hostage.
His mouth trudges over your throat, fingers roaming over to give your clit a nice few pinches. Meaningfully, “Here? Orrrr–” Punctuating each word, each second with a thorough drilling into your g-spot. “-here? Make up th-that ditzy lil’ mind. Seriously.”
Your head drunkenly crashes on top of his collarbone and stays there, “R-right here- there. Both, Sugu.”
“Again with the f-fucking Sugu-” Geto snarls out, though you can sense by his cloudy scent that he was anything but irritated with you.
Your whines had quietened down into something more of an incoherent mess, and the main things ringing in Geto’s ears right now were the creaky protests of his bed and the clammy plops of his thrusts.
“C’mon now— where’s my bossy fuck! omega? The one who loves her poor, nerdy Sugu?”
Arousal reaching a peak, and now that he’d found your g-spot, he was probing into it with fat thuds. Not just once or twice. Nooooo, it was over and over and-
“Just w-wanna cum—” you’re sobbing out. Jerking your body like a bobble-head up and down to further feel the drag of his Herculean form behind you, to savor each ridge and sculpted curve sweatily massaging your back. “P-pleeeeease, Suguru. Let me cum?”
Swerving his tensing hips out alllll the way back to leave solid smooches ‘round your pussy entrance each and every time, and then there were the squelches-
Oh, you were just flooding a slippery sheen all over his hefty, swelling base. A viscid luster of slick that glided all the way down to drip off of his sack n’ between his legs.
Your eyes manage to snatch themselves open- hissing at the realization that it was pooling especially around that particularly ballooned-up ring right over Geto’s breeder balls.
Was that? With a shiver you’re rutting backwards, feeling for yourself the slow drag of his proud knot. Bigger than any else you’ve ever seen. It was.
You rasp, throat itchy and raw. Sweltering droplets of tears streaming down your cheeks when he matches the stuttering beat of your heart with every pressurized push- “P-please.”
“Needy thing. Cum, huh?” Geto drawls out, voice thick with need and something else you were too stupid to register right now. He collides you even tighter against rippling pecs. Taking the sweet, sweet opportunity to poke his nose into your scent gland and steal a looooong breath of your overdriven pheromones.
“Cum then, c-cum. Fucking cum all over my cock.”
Fuck, it’s with those exact words in mind that you do.
Startling straight headfirst into your high - and you don’t think you’ve even crashed into one wave of bliss before the other overtakes you. And another. And another-
“Oh g-god—” You’re trilling, only held up by the ruthless grip that Geto was maintaining. His hips were deep, and your pleasure even deeper. “-please. Please- please, Sugu-”
He’s hunching over your body ever-so-slightly, resting your thighs against his thick, flexing ones. Only bending you over to kiss your g-spot even more sinfully, Geto’s response comes out ragged into your lobes. “Tch, wh-what now?”
His ruby-red tip was blushing like a strawberry and just as plump - swirling around your treasure trove of spots, pounding you through each peak of your orgasm until you saw stars.
“Cum i-insiiiide-” Your barely-audible groans spring out into the heady air, adding to its hypnotic mix of perfumes. And it’s not just the heat that made you crave Geto carnally, every pap! against the puffy ring at his base making you crave more more more- “Want it a-all up…”
You’re trailing off, melted mind unable to do multiple things at once.
With tottering fingerpads, you’re trapping one of his palms underneath your own. Homing itself right above where his rounded tip was stretching open your insides, right above your womb.
“H-here, okay? Don’t miss-”
You blink up at him and Geto thinks he might just be having a heart attack. Sparks fizzing around his sloshed brain, “Fuh-fuuuuck– don’t talk out of yer pussy, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit once. Twice just to watch your eyes glaze over stupidly. “Or m’gonna get you pregnant.”
Soothing over that faint bulge he was fucking into your tummy, “Gonna h-have my baby growing allll up in here. Make you round and…” His voice sounds faint, whispering. “-big and…glowing. And…and pregnant.”
But, ah- you never did make it easy for him. Did you? Always had to have your way.
Which Geto Suguru gladly gave.
“But I want that, Sugu—” You pout, “Wan’ your knot…please?”
You didn’t have to say another word before Geto’s finishing off in such a messy way, reaching the biggest fucking orgasm he’s had in his entire life. The strongest. The most heavenly and oh- oh, were you an angel?
He’s collapsing onto the drenched sheets before he knows it, pinning you down with the strong v-line of his hips.
“Shit-” Geto emits through the cracks in his bitten canines. “Shit shit shit- shit-”
You don’t know who’s losing their mind more, you or him. Falling into the well of a second, third, perhaps even fourth orgasm with how blissfully his fattened, split-ended cock bruised every nook of your adhesive-like walls.
Your saliva cascades in puddles that soak the pillows through. “Suguruuu— a-are you okay-”
“Do I look okay?”
Sexily ridged abs kneading your back, hands scrambling on the mattress, inked shoulders shivering. His swollen knot hits and hits your pussymound.
And it’s only once his trembly fingers latch around his glasses - fumbling, dropping it copious times before Geto manages to push them haphazardly onto his face.
Tilting his head back just enough degrees to watch as the curved fringe of his knot disappears past your puffy folds.
“There we- there…” He’s driveling clingy wads of translucent saliva, letting the stray pouring excess hit your fluttering hole with a splat! One eager thumb of Geto’s hooks into your entrance and bullies it aside to let his incredible perimeter sink iiiiiiiiin-
He’s melting into you now, spent. Ruined. “Get pregnant.” Geto whispers into your sweat-glossed shoulder blade once he feels the back of his knot get fully enveloped into your pussy with a gummy pop! Once he feels himself finally tip over- “Get pregnant.”
And it’s not just mindless babbling - it’s a promise.
A promise that he rasps out time and time against with every wadded slip of seed that dollops out across your cervix. Pushing it so deep. Smearing acres of ribbony streaks all over your most precious orifices and spots.
“Gonna know wh-what we did.” Geto whimpers, shit- he couldn’t pound his voluminous ounces of cum into you as aggressively as he wanted with this damn knot. “Entire campus. Professors. Everyone’s gonna know ngh- how I fucked ya full. F-fucked you pregnant. Gonna wonder.”
But that didn’t stop him from trying.
That didn’t stop him from wrenching out a hand to squeeze the ends of your sopping wet slit, forcing down on his very knot. Squeezing out so many numerous dredges of syrupy white cum that thwack! thwack! thwacks! a filthy second skin against your walls.
“Fuh-fuuuuck— get pregnant, gorgeous.” He’s rutting. Grinding. Humping you like some beast more than man. “Gonna l-look at you all round n’ big and see me- me me me. Get pregnant get pregnant get-”
Geto’s mouth parts at the pearly dewdrops of seed that leak from the overstuffed ends of your cunt. He can feel his entire body twitch, can feel his sharpened teeth lacquer so rabidly.
He still wasn’t done.
Still letting one prespired forearm of his dangle around your neck, manhandling you into a fucking headlock. The other tracing the edges of his digits over your glands, squeezing until your skin was all tender and raw.
And puffy.
Perfect for him to tilt his head and bite—
“Ohhh- yes!” Every fibre of your being delights at the way Geto’s biting you so hard that you can smell crimson iron. Your pheromone bubble pops! to mix together with his own. Becoming one. And you can scent him - you can feel him.
Glasses clashing, teeth tearing. Before you know it, you’re doing the same. “Suguruuuu— m’yours.”
Your mate latches onto the curves of your hips - your soon-to-be birthing hips.
And the way Geto rediscovers that - tucking his face into the ruined, drenched fabric of those cherry pink panties and taking an endless, husky sniff - tells you that this was going to be a long, loooong night.
୨୧thinking about drunk!nanami who can’t help but bury his cock in his sleeping wife after a night out :(
kento had never particularly enjoyed social outings. he preferred the comfort of his home, where he could indulge in classic films, immerse himself in literature, and savor a home cooked meal. he found that people were exhausting, and that he had trouble dealing with them. but you, his lovely wife, insisted that he loosen up, give in to gojo and geto’s plea for a boys night out. thus, with some reluctance, nanami consented, and now, several hours later, he was unsteadily navigating the dimly lit apartment he shared with you, making his way toward the bedroom.
gently, he opened the door and shut it softly behind him, making his way to the bed where you lay peacefully asleep. one knee drawn up towards your chest, the blankets twisted around your legs, giving him an unobstructed view of your pussy, your thighs, your belly. your hair fanned out across the pillows, and a soft snore escaped your lips as your mouth hung slightly open. the sight warmed his heart, and he stepped closer. taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he slipped off his shoes and clothes leaving only his underwear on before sliding under the covers next to you, instinctively curling up against your back.
he inhaled deeply, breathing in your scent, a greedy whine fumbling from his mouth. it had been too long. you had been out of town, and the second you had stepped foot back into the house, you had collapsed, completely exhausted. kento had felt bad, so he had simply helped you into bed, and left you to rest. now though, he was desperate for you, his hands moving underneath the oversized shirt you had fallen asleep in, finding your bare breasts. a soft moan ripping from his throat as he groped you, leaning down, pressing sloppy kisses against your throat. “my beautiful girl. . . my w-wife.”
you stirred and sighed, shifting underneath his palms, but remained asleep. nanami's mouth traveled down to your neck, where he sucked a mark onto the soft skin there. “need you s’bad, you wouldn’t mind . . . right?” he slurred, voice rough, thick with lust and desire. gently he peeled the covers off of the two of you, your face twisting at the newfound chill. “s’okay. . .i’ll warm you, p-promise.” a hiccup, followed by cold hands reaching down to tug the shirt you wore up. you’re completely naked, and nanami's eyes rake hungrily over your form.
he full on makes out with your pussy, occasionally dipping his tongue inside of you, moaning as the taste of your wetness met his tongue. soft groans fill the room as he licks at you, his heavy balls aching as a hand fell into his hair, your hand. he could die happily as your thighs tighten around his head involuntarily. groggily, he peers up, and realizes that you’re still asleep, but you had begun to rub yourself against his mouth, muscle memory searching for pleasure. “humph.” kento huffs, pulling your puffy clit into his mouth, grazing the flesh with his teeth.
high pitched whines erupt from your chest, hips rolling over his face. kento figures you’re having a wet dream, your grip on his hair now painful. but despite the sting in his scalp, he can’t but moan loudly into your cunt, muffled by the way you stuff his face full of pussy. kento was drunk, but he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't please you. he was nothing if not an excellent lover, and this was something he knew well. so, he knew you were close, could tell by the way your body trembled beneath him. carefully kento lifted the hood above your clit up, swirling his tongue against the quivering bud, your hips jerked violently as you came with a cry.
your thighs clamped around his head, trapping him between them. this spurs the man on, tongue working faster to lap up your release. you’re crying out softly, voice weak, full of exhaustion and sleepiness. when he finally pulls away, his face glistens with your essence. a lopsided smile tugs at his lips at seeing how wet he’s got you, hand wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
he knew that he wasn't going to last as he nestled between your plush thighs. it was the alcohol, and the fact that it had been too long. he was aching, and all he wanted to do was be buried inside of you. he doesn't even realize he's doing it, until his cock is sliding through your wet folds, and he's pushing inside of your warmth. he curses feeling gummy walls flutter around him, you whimpered, shifting underneath him. he’s gentle, despite his drunken state, and he slowly moves his hips, rocking them into yours. he notices the change in your breathing pattern, the sudden shift of your husband’s cock splitting you increasing your heart rate.
you look so peaceful, even with your brows furrowed as you try and fight against the sleep. “oh—feels so good, fuck, i love being inside of you. so wet, mmm, can't help myself, baby. been too long, needed this so bad. needed you, needed to be inside of you. feels good, don't stop—fuck, so perfect. made just for me, weren't you? my sweet girl, my good girl,” he’s a babbling, rambling mess.
the lewd squelch of your pussy around him is loud, sending him into overdrive. kento’s eyes are glazed over with lust, mouth slack as he gawks at your bouncing breasts. large hands firm on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. the sensation was intoxicating. he’s so deep inside you, budge visible in the slight distention of your stomach.
his pace is punishing now, fucking into you with a force that had your entire body trembling. he doesn’t mean to be so rough. . . but god, you feel amazing.
another whimper from you, head turning, hair falling across the pillow. your body is limp, pliable and nanami moans, taking what he wants. a thick layer of cream covers his cock, and he feels dizzy, light headed. his head spins, and his eyes fall closed as he loses himself in you. “god,” he leans forward, resting on the pillow next to yours. the scent of your shampoo and perfume, only serves to make him feel drunker.
his orgasm is almost painful, cum stuffing you, coating your walls. a drawn out whine spills from his lips as his cock jerks inside of you, and he continues to thrust, riding out his orgasm. his glossy eyes closed, as he pants heavily. finally, his hips slow, and his body stops, slumping on top of yours.
his softening cock still resting inside of you, and he can't be bothered to pull out. he presses a lazy kiss to your neck, and pulls the covers back up over the two of you. your hair tickling his nose as he nuzzles against you, "i wuv you, d-don't go anywhere again, okay?"
he presses another kiss to your neck, and wraps his arms around you. the man’s head is swimming, and his eyes are heavy. he's tired, and all he wants is to stay buried inside of you. so that's exactly what he does.
when the two of you wake up the next morning, you're sore, and nanami is mortified, and apologizes profusely, begging for forgiveness. you wave him off and smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “just wake me up next time, yeah?”
Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.7k
A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.
“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”
And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.
Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”
“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows.
“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.”
The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”
After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.
The first being that he’s loved you ever since.
Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.
He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”
Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.
Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”
Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered.
“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that?
“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”
Oh.
Oh.
And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.
Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone.
Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to.
Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway?
Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!
“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”
“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly.
Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”
At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”
“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants.
And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird.
The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.”
And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-
You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.
Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is.
Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.
Gojo visited you the next day, too.
And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him.
Every day.
When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.
And it showed - oh, how it showed.
It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest.
He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course.
Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty.
“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”
“Snitch”
“Harlot.”
“Knave.”
“Hobgoblin.”
“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”
Well, was.
It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement.
“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”
“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”
Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title.
“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”
“Satoru- wait.”
He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.
Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice.
But no, that was not his place.
His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.
“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.
“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.
Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”
“Satoru.”
And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.
.
.
.
Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why.
Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals?
No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.
You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents.
And that left you with…him.
Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that.
“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”
He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”
“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”
“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”
“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now.
“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”
A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.
“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”
“There you are, your highnesses!”
Satoru.
You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”
Thud!
Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.
The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot.
The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so.
You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”
But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.
No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”
“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.
Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises.
Him?
“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”
In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.
But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”
“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”
He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”
“I should send you to the gallows for this.”
Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”
And for the first time in so long, it feels normal.
The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants.
“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.”
“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”
“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.
And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.
“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”
The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”
Gojo. Gojo.
And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet.
So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him.
Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”
Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess.
You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.
All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you.
“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.
“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”
For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat.
And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared.
Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons.
.
.
.
Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow.
And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.
The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there.
It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.
Sneaky princess.
After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself.
But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this.
Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well.
And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence.
It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is.
After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night.
Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives.
Fuck, had it really been days since already?
It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-
He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal.
And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him.
With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies.
“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up.
Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”
Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”
“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”
“Ahem.”
There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin.
Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip.
Schwing–!
“Toru- no.”
Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.
Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked.
But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings.
The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.
“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”
“Excuse me, sir.”
“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”
Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.
Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.
But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him.
It takes a beat. One. Two.
He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter.
“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”
“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”
The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal.
“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”
Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”
“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”
“Let me.”
Your brows raise, “What?”
“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat.
Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure.
He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers.
Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions.
He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.
The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”
“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”
“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”
What?
“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before.
Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might.
But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation.
“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”
And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”
Stood stock still.
Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him.
His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.”
And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-
“Please.”
Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”
“The same hand.”
“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze.
Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”
The other man breathes, “Repent…”
“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”
CRUNCH!
Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief.
He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm.
Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince.
Repentance.
“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name.
So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-
Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”
.
.
.
In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out.
None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.
It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.
“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”
“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”
“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”
Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse.
But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting.
And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo.
Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago.
It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball.
You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there.
Manners. Posture. Eye contact.
It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?
“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”
Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?
Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are.
“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”
There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it.
“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.
Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals.
The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?
“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”
There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed.
All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”
You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor.
If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for.
“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features.
And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”
“As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”
“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”
“As if you deserve any bett-”
Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.”
Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.
“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.”
Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out-
“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”
You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat.
Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.
“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”
“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room.
The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”
Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”
And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this.
“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”
So you do.
You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled.
Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser.
Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster.
If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster.
Nothing else mattered.
Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night.
Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.
“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee.
It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.
“Satoru-!”
It wasn’t.
Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe.
Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”
He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”
Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow.
“May I have this dance, my princess?”
You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”
But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune.
And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.
“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear.
You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?”
“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”
“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”
And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.
You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”
He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”
“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”
“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”
He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.
You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”
You breathe out, “Satoru…”
“-and maybe in another life-”
“Maybe in this one.”
Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”
You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer.
Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety.
His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw.
“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”
You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not.
Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.
Even if it was to purr out—
“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”
“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”
He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”
“Please-”
“Louder.”
“Please.”
“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”
He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all.
Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”
“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”
Panting, “K-kiss?”
“Mhm.”
Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-
A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.
The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?
“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”
But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.
“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”
Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.
“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer.
“Impatient.”
As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient.
As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-
“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.
Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear.
Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!
A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.
Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.
You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”
And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-
“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”
You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb.
Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-
“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”
“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-
And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.
Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.
“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”
Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was.
Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!
You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”
“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.
“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”
Fuck.
You were fucked.
And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-
“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”
But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.
“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle.
Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-
“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”
And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now.
Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”
Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”
And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-
“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-”
It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot.
“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe.
Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”
You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”
“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”
The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-
Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.
High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub.
“M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”
And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch.
“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”
More ravenous.
Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants.
He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second.
But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.
And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.
Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists.
Fucked out.
“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”
Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.
Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”
And use him you were.
Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”
Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly.
All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!
All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.”
That’s what finally gets his attention.
You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.
Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.
Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge.
Staggering.
One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine.
“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-”
And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets.
It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-
“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”
Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”
Getting the princess to say please?
He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu-
Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.
He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop.
Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.
“S-Satoru did you just-”
“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”
N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-
“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”
You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”
He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips.
Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-
“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”
He sounded hypnotized.
“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.
“No.”
And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-
You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?
You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs.
So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl.
Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.
“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”
And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.
Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming.
“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”
“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering.
But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.
Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-
A mating press.
Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.
“So mine.”
And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb.
Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”
“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”
Oh.
You might have just broken him with that.
Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.
Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.
“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”
Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”
“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”
More.
And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.
Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”
He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.
Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.
“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”
But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”
“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”
Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.
Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name.
A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering.
And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”
His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”
You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo.
All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well.
Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”
“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”
“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”
“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”
And he does.
“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together.
You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab.
So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.
But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette.
Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again.
“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you.
You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”
Oh, you liked the thought of that.
And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.
But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never.
He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.
Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.
This was it.
“My princess…run away with me?”
.
.
.
“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”
“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”
“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”
“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”
“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”
Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other.
Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him!
And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.
Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.
And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.
Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love.
It was oh-so-positively sweet.
The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.
Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.
How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed.
A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3
GOJO satoru absolutey looooves the way his cock disappears into your cunt, grinning while he fucks you in missionary, his platinum chain with your initial on it dangling on your face. His mushroom tip kisses your cervix oh so perfectly, making you clench tighter around him.
He fucking at a rough pace into you, trapping you between his body and the mattress as his hips slam against yours. He leans down to kiss you passionately, tongue sliding into your mouth.
His hips stutter everytime hes about to cum, rolling his hips against yours and whimpering into your mouth, hes sensitive.
His eyes are teary as he gripped onto your hips tightly, leaving purple marks. He angled his hips in such a way that made you scream, his cock hitting all the right spots perfectly.
He grunts into our ear, whimpering as he spilled his potent, hot seed into you. It elicited a strangled cry from your throat, feeling yourself fill up to the brim.
He slowly pulls out as his seed drips from your cunt, gathering it in his two fingers, rubbing your clit mercilessly using his seed as lube.
dungeon meshi gave me an excuse to write clone porn
2.6 k words / warnings - readers have boobs and vagina, oral (laios + reader receiving), thigh fucking, porn without plot like none at all, not proofread + written while sleep deprived
summary - on your honeymoon, you and laios have a special kind of shapeshifter encounter
~~~
“Who keeps two towels in the whole house?” you grumble, pulling on the shoes you’d kicked off just minutes ago.
“Like I said, they probably keep some in the shed,” Laios is directly behind you, shoes on and wired to step outside, “Vacation houses out here are rare, but their sheds are more useful for storage than farming tools.”
“Still, did they not think to prepare a little more?” your frustration is not so easily tempered, “They knew a king was coming, didn’t they?”
“I’m sure they did,” Laios opens the front door for you, ushering you outside, “Marcille seemed pretty sure she set this up nicely for us. It’s just a short walk around the back, I could go by myself if you want to finish showering?”
His suggestion makes you sigh, you shake your head, huddling closer to him as chilled wind scathes your damp skin, “I’m just annoyed, it’s nothing for me to be so hostile about… Sorry for losing my mind.”
“I don’t mind,” he smooches the crown of your head and ventures around the house. You chase after, having to keep a hand dragging along the wall to avoid tripping.
“Laios!” you wail, unable to make him out with gray clogging your whole vision, “Laios!”
“Yeah?” you slam into his chest, letting out a muted ‘oomf!’ at the impact.
“It’s so foggy out here,” you grumble.
“It is, guess I forgot how terrible it could be.”
“Dunno how you could forget anything like this.”
Laios groans in irritation at the weather, blindly reaching out until he’s got a hand on your shoulder. Once he’s certain of your position, he reaches out again, “Here, take my hand, I don’t want you to get separated from me.”
You take the hand extended and let Laios tug you towards the shed. By the time you’re inside and the hanging overhead lantern is lit, a sudden discovery is made.
There are two extra bodies among you. You hold one Laios, and the Laios across from you holds the hand of your copy.
A gasp echoes through the room, distinctly Laios-like in passion.
Seems a monster has crossed your paths.
One Laios is taller, a mere two inches, and you think if you really stare that same Laios’ chest is slightly bigger too. He’s also smiling, beaming really, right off the bat while the second Laios’ excitement is more contained to shaking hands and meek giggles. To be fair to both, they thought they’d never see a monster again so you let the strange giddy slide.
However, your duplicate is scary in how precisely Laios remembers you. Your hair is a bit bouncier and lips more glossy than current, but she’s undeniably accurate. Its legs, the swell of its breasts, the mold of its waist -- almost as though you’re gazing through a mirror.
“This would probably be easier if it wasn’t just us,” you think aloud, looking at the two Laioses only to see them poking and prodding at one another.
“They don’t seem too keen on figuring out which is which,” your copy mumbles, earning a glare from you.
“It’s a shapeshifter!” the slightly shorter Laios (who you’re now electing to dub Laios A) shouts, “I haven’t seen one of these in forever! I thought I never would again!”
The other one, Laios B, nods and yanks Laios A’s hair experimentally, then groping his bicep, “It really feels just like I do! Soft, but firm skin and the hair texture’s exactly right!”
As if thinking in sync, the pair slowly turn towards the yous. Four hands turn unto you both to squeeze and roll down the planes of your body. Or, bodies, considering they’re petting down your copy as well.
“Practically identical!” Laios A squeals, kissing your cheek then your copy’s, “Even the plumpness of their cheeks feel the same!”
“Glad you’re having fun,” your dupe cuts in, “but shouldn’t we try getting rid of the fakes before they get rid of us?”
Oh, that little wench.
“Let Laios have fun,” you smack its arm, “You should know this is rare for him now.”
“That attitude’s terrible! He could die if we keep messing around!” it glares at you with an accusatory finger-wag, “I bet you want us to waste time, you fake!”
“You’re the fake, you fake!”
Laios A has to restrain you with both arms around your waist -- while Laios B does the same for your shifter -- to prevent you from knocking a fist into its stupid, fake face.
“There’s gotta be a way to figure out which ones the real one without breaking into fights,” Laios B fusses, hugging the shifter tighter to soothe her. Which, in turn, only agitates you more because what if that Laios is the real one, and he’s in horrible danger holding that monster?!
“We can’t just cut ourselves open,” Laios A’s chest reverberates at your back, then his hand skims down the front of your stomach, fingertips dipping just beneath your waistband, “But maybe we could tell each other’s behaviors apart some other way…”
“Oh, so it’s like that?” you tilt your head back to stare up at Laios A.
He nods, terminally serious despite the pinkish hue trailing from his cheeks to his neck, “It’s like that,” he then darts his eyes between you and your copy, “Can we?”
The real question seems to be: can you two get along for now?
Are you so devoted to Laios that you’re willing to play nice with something so grating?
You sigh and reach up to cup Laios A’s cheek, “Yeah, we can.”
Both Laioses rush to undo the tie of their trousers, only to be stopped by you and your copy -- the two of you falling onto your knees, creeping hands under Laios’ shirt and beneath his pants.
Yanking the soft material down to unveil thick thighs, Laios A above you gasps quietly at the cool air brushing his exposed skin. Your lips climb the meat of his leg, noting that Laios B’s thighs are looking a little rounder. Not that it matters, you’ll gladly bite and suck both.
Fingers dancing along the apple of your cheek redirect your attention, Laios A’s face tinged crimson. You smooch the bone of his hip, nails scaling along the back of his thighs to pull him closer. Beside your face, his cock hardens, color deepening towards his mushroom tip; he keens for more attention, unintentionally smearing leaky precum over your face as his erection twitches. You smooth a thumb along his underside before chastly pecking the weepy head.
Laios B’s hands strip your copy’s shirt, lifting it to paw at its breasts. He kisses down the column of its neck before reaching out for you as well. Rising onto your feet, you run your hands up Laios B’s back to shirk off his top -- Laios A awkwardly lingering behind your clone. His hands find the waistband of its pants, snaking beneath the lip to plunge into its panties.
You press a kiss to Laios B, he doesn’t turn to return the affection, but you recover quickly by pulling down both you and your duplicate’s bottoms. Laios A’s neck cranes over your copy’s shoulder to snatch your lips for himself. Laios B’s hands warm and calloused from labor as they careen up your waist to rid you of your shirt as well. He sucks a violet array from your shoulder to jaw, grinding his turgid girth between your thighs -- your wetness welcoming him.
Laios A moans at the sight of himself thrusting along your soaked slit, fingers quickening inside your copy until its own slick is rolling towards the floor. While Laios B releases muted groans and puffs into your ear.
“Need to be inside you,” Laios A whines, kissing your copy’s lips before striding past all three of you towards the center of the room. Laios B and you tilt to watch him.
Laios A quickly flattens his back against the floor, cobblestone acclimating to his rising body heat, he pulls you down by the waist -- then beckoning your copy via wave. One of his hands cradles your waist while the other smoothes along your copy’s thigh. Silently urging it to kneel over his face, all while his twitching cock bobs toward the apex of your thighs.
“Want to know if here’s the same, too,” Laios A murmurs into your dupe’s thighs, sharply jerking his hips towards yours.
Suddenly, large hands are burrowing into the thicket of your hair, swerving your eyes to Laios B. Your tongue lulls in time with your copy, lips brushing hers around the base of Laios B’s flushed head. Needily, he mushes your faces together, thrusting between the wet cavern of your mouths. Hands just as soft as yours slither beneath you to work Laios A inside you. Laios A snaps his knees up, feet on the floor, to aid your copy’s effort. His hips buck up, punching air from your chest as he pops into your hole.
A louder mewl slithers past your copy’s lips, Laios A’s tongue lathering its slit before pausing at its clit, bathing the bud in extra attention. His thumbs splay it open just for easier access to tongue-fuck. Meanwhile, your sleepy bouncing rhythm is interrupted by abrupt, sharp humping throwing you off balance. The only reason you don’t fall over is Laios B stubbornly holds your head still, fucking the sodden gap between yours and your clone’s faces; otherwise leaving you to your own devices. You manage to catch yourself on Laios A’s chest, firm muscles flexing beneath your palms with his throaty hums and whimpers of pleasure.
Your tongue clashes with your clone’s -- soft and wet and warm.
Pulling both your heads back, Laios B rearranges you so your clone is left squealing around his balls while he slaps the meaty weight of his cock on your tongue. Sliding toward the back of your throat, his face flushes as he hungrily coaxes your head further down. Until your molten cheeks meet the protrusions of his pelvic bones.
A hand bigger than yours (though smaller than the one in your hair) rests on your flexing tummy, pressing against the bulging evidence of which Laios is inside you. Laios A groans at the feeling, and you quickly fumble your hand over his, pressing harder with a delighted gasp that ends in a gag and choke. Their sizes are indecipherable, and if the mood were different you could almost be ashamed by how perverted it makes you seem.
Laios B throws his head back as your throat spasms around his tip, lip cinched between his teeth and brows furrowed. He forces your head side-to-side, reveling in the bend of your muscles shifting to accommodate his dick. Laios A, however, stretches his hand (a little uncomfortably) so his thumb can swish messily against your clit. Your volume grows, quickly overpowering both Laios B and your own duplicate. Spurring Laios A to hasten, jostling you with his powerful drilling paired with stimulating your clit.
The other hand of Laios A has found one of your clone’s tits, squeezing and padding the nipple with his thumb. She’s grinding down against his nose, hips jumping and muffled mewls just barely scratching past its lips into the sensitive sack of Laios B’s balls. Spit gurgling down its chin, drying against its breasts and Laios A’s hand.
Drool steadily pools at the pucker of your own lips, pushed out everytime B shoves in -- saliva splatters his hips, dripping down his thighs and soaking his base as well as your entire lower face. The quicker he fucks your face, the sloppier and wetter it gets. Which is certainly in character for Laios.
But so is the way the one on his back is staving off his burgeoning orgasm to make sure (both of) you finish first. Something he always tries.
Laios A’s hips snap up firmly, crooking up into you midair, deep as possible to ensure all his cum is milked by your cunt. He moans into your clone’s cunt, now content to let his tongue hang out as it fucks his face -- his hand still squishing its tit.
Yet something he always fails.
Laios usually cums before you, but he’s also got the stamina to soldier on until you drop.
Determined, Laios swirls your clit, fevered thrusts slowing to meet your bouncing on his cock. Another slush of saliva oozes past your lips, lubing the shapeshifter as you cry around its erection. Laios fucks you through your orgasm, evidently loving how cum spews from your weeping cunt -- leaking down his cock, over his nuts, and spilling onto the cobblestone below.
Faux Laios spits cum down your throat with a few final aggressive jerks. Your clone is the last, and the quietest, shy huffs scarcely audible between skin on skin and both you and Laios’ noisy crooning.
The shapeshifters tumble off, thoroughly exhausted, and you fare no better collapsing into Laios’ chest. He leisurely jabs the last of your energy from you before pulling out altogether. Sweetly pecking your forehead, Laios murmurs something you don’t quite catch before he rises -- still naked -- to drive off the imposters.
Snagging both by the back of their necks, Laios herds the pair towards the back wall, then scooping you up to carry towards the main house. Once your doppelgangers are locked outside, Laios can focus on getting you in bed.
You pinch the juncture of his neck, yawning into his chest, “Clothes…”
“I know, I know,” he slumps against the door upon getting inside, laying his head over yours -- eyes fluttering with drowsiness as soon as he crosses into the master bed, “I’ll go back when the shapeshifter’s dealt with. You brought more clothes, right?”
You nod clumsily. Then peek at him through heavy lashes, “How do you know I’m the right one anyway?”
(you trust him to know which you was which, you just want him to bask in this)
Laios grins, visibly excited to share as he slips you beneath the sheets, “You’re always loud when we have sex, so I knew the version of you trying to be quiet couldn’t be it. And it was too shy about sitting on my face -- we’ve been together a while so you should be used to it by now,” his expression grows somehow brighter before disappearing from your sight, voice lively from the bathroom, “Could you tell which me was me?”
“Mhm,” you wait for him to return with a damp washcloth before mumbling your own reasoning, “The other one was too rough, kept shovin’ my head. And he never kissed me,” you fling a hand out, and Laios moves his head so your palm lands on his cheek, “Which was very unlike you.”
“You’re so smart,” he muses, shifting to kiss your palm before lacing his free hand with yours and retucking it in bed so he can properly clean the mixed cum between your thighs. Then, suddenly, he’s frowning.
“Aw, what’s wrong?”
“This might actually be my last time seeing a monster, unless it's a corpse Izutsumi brings me…”
“Poor baby,” you’ll never understand his fascination -- monsters are deadly and terrible and most are ugly as sin, but you’re useless to denying Laios anything so you always indulge him, “You could sing me the mermaids’ song, would that help you feel better?”
Laios sits up straighter, finishing cleaning you off, “Can I sing to the end? I never get to finish it.”
“Of course, you can.”
Quiet, hysterical giggles leave Laios’ mouth as he slides into bed beside you, hugging you into his chest before clearing his throat to begin singing.
(you have to keep pinching yourself awake to actually let Laios finish the song before falling asleep, but his grateful little kisses on your hairline are enough thanks)
“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos
#discovering that the profound is lurking behind the absurd#just waiting for the chance to peek through like sunlight through the clouds#is one of the best things in life once you start to notice it
this is a beautiful way to put it and i’m gonna cry abt it
Ahem @bettinalevyisdetermined could you please do a video with this?
also “you’re not brave, you’ve merely forgotten the fear of death. Allow me to reacquaint you.” Is the rawest line and it’s from dominus ghaul from destiny 2’s vanilla story when it first released.
“Spare me this mockery of justice!”
(A few minutes later, a with a different character)
“Silence! Or you shall be held in contempt of court!”
“I have nothing *but* contempt for this court!”
The Transformers: The Movie (1986)
“For every kid that dreams up the electric lightbulb, there’s one who dreams up the atom bomb.” - Mr. Electric, The Adventures of Sharkboy And Lavagirl (2005).
