✦ . Note: Got it out as quickly as I could, hope you enjoy! In my mind, Jack is a confident, talkative guy when he's drunk, so take that how you will, lol.
─────────────────────────────────────────────
As the bottle whipped around on the coffee table, you quickly realized you were neither drunk nor high enough to deal with the embarrassment you were about to face.
It wobbled, catching on an ashtray on the edge of the space, before it slowed from one face, to another, then—
Jack.
You would’ve thought a gaggle of crows had just found their way into the living room at the sound that erupted from the corner of the room.
Natalie and Toby lost it.
Natalie slapped the back of Jack’s head with a loud smack while Toby howled, kicking his leg higher over Jack’s thigh as if he needed the extra support to keep from falling over laughing. Jack didn’t look the least bit impressed. He sat there between them on the loveseat pushed into the corner, his absent sockets pointed blankly at the bottle, its tip completely motionless and aimed right at him.
You felt a pit form deep in your stomach.
Being locked in a closet with the resident cannibal suddenly felt a lot less like a fun party game and a lot more like a very bad idea.
People started whooping and cheering, especially Toby and Natalie, who were still losing their minds. Jack slowly stood up, shrugging both of them off like they weighed nothing. They tumbled dramatically into the arms of the loveseat, still cracking up and clutching their ribs as they reached for each other.
“Good luck, big guy,” Natalie wheezed, wiping tears from her good eye. “You’re gonna die in there.”
Toby pointed at you with one shaky hand, laughing so hard he could hardly sit up right. “Don’t let him eat you!”
You glanced around the room, hoping for even a scrap of mercy, but everyone else was either grimacing in sympathy or grinning like this was the funniest thing they’d seen all night. Jeff and Ben looked especially pleased with themselves.
Jack rounded the coffee table without so much as a word. His tall frame cast a long shadow over you as he came to a stop right in front, staring down with his blank gaze. The black voids of his eyes seemed to swallow the light from the lights overhead. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.
Until, “C’mon.”
You nodded quickly and pushed yourself up from the floor, legs a little unsteady. Jack turned without another word and started down the hallway. You followed a few steps behind him, fingers picking nervously at the hem of your shirt. The moment you left the living room, you heard Jeff yell over the noise, “Ben. Music.”
The music rushed in seconds later—loud, gritty rock blasting through the busted speakers twice as loud as before, the bass rattling the old floorboards under your feet.
The walk down the hall felt longer than it should have. Jack’s broad shoulders took up most of the space, his steps quiet and even like a cat. When he reached the closet door, he opened it and stepped aside.
You stopped a few feet away, looking up at him. The overhead light in the hallway cast strange shadows over his face, making the black eyesockets look even deeper.
Jack gave a nod toward the inside of the closet. One of his ears twitched against his head as he spoke, “After you.”
You swallowed, nodded back, and stepped past him. Reaching up, you tugged the pull chain. The bare bulb clicked on overhead with a hum, washing the small space in weak yellow light.
It was smaller than you remembered. Way smaller. The coats hanging on the rod ruffled against your shoulders as soon as you stepped in, and the stacks of old boxes and junk left barely enough room to stand.
Behind you, Jack had to duck. He placed one large hand on the top of the doorframe and bent down to fit through, his frame nearly filling the entire doorway before he stepped fully inside. The door pulled shut behind him.
The music outside dulled to a rumbling, muffled thump.
Now it was just the two of you.
The closet felt even tighter with Jack in it. He had to keep his head slightly lowered so it wouldn’t hit the hanging rod, his shoulders almost touching both walls. You stood with your side pressed against the coats and your back shoved against the wall, your heart beating fast as you looked up at him.
He was tall—always had been—but in the cramped little closet he seemed enormous. The light overhead cast a sickly yellow glow over him, highlighting every unsettling detail. His muted gray skin, almost ashen in places, stretched tight over sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. Pointed ears poked up through messy dark hair, occasionally flicking and twitching once he straightened as much as the low ceiling would allow. You’d occasionally catch the gleam of his sharp teeth between his lips or the flash of his claws when he moved.
He looked… bigger in here. Like the walls had shrunk just to make him seem more imposing.
And then there were his eyes.
Or rather, the places where his eyes should have been. Nothing but deep, endless black voids stared back at you. In the dim light, they looked infinite—like if you leaned in too close, you might fall forever into that darkness and never get out. It was unnerving. And strangely hard to look away from. Like all the awe and horror of a black hole swallowing a planet.
He was dressed simply in baggy black sweatpants and an oversized blue shirt that still somehow looked tight across his broad shoulders and chest. You think he tried to dress as normally as possible to offset everything else that was jarring about him… or maybe this was just all that fit his size.
You swallowed, pressing your back a little more into the adjacent wall.
“…Are you comfortable?” You fished for something to talk about.
Jack grunted, “Mhm.”
That was it.
You racked your brain for something—anything—to say, your fingers twisting together nervously.
“So… uh, how’s your night been going?” you tried.
“Fun.”
You nodded awkwardly. “The party got pretty wild after that fight, huh?”
He gave a nod.
You waited. Nothing else came. You think you could die.
You tried once more, voice a little more chipper. “You, um… you like playing these kinds of parties usually, or…?”
“Sure.”
You let out a small, nervous laugh and looked down at your hands. Talking to Jack had never been easy, but this felt like pulling teeth. The seven minutes had barely started, and the silence already felt suffocating. Jack remained perfectly still, towering over you, content to simply exist while you slowly unraveled under the weight of this encounter.
“So… what have you—”
“Calm down,” Jack cut in.
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
He let out a chuckle, the sound surprisingly warm. “Your heartbeat. It’s pounding so loud it’s giving me a headache. It’s gonna explode if you keep that up.”
Your face burned. You pressed a hand to your chest without thinking, feeling the frantic thud against your palm. The embarrassment made it worse.
“I—I can’t just make it stop,” you sounded exasperated.
“Yes, you can,” Jack replied simply. “You’re just not trying.”
You rolled your eyes, letting out a short laugh. “Fuck off. Quit with the weird body shit.”
Jack tilted his head, looking at your sideways. Then, in a dry, surprisingly sarcastic tone, he said, “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize the doctor had to cut it with the ‘weird body shit.’ How many times have you come down to my room after a mission asking for painkillers again? Oh yeah… a lot.”
You stared at him, genuinely surprised. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.
“Wait… was that sarcasm? From you?”
Jack’s shoulders moved in a small shrug, the corners of his mouth pushing up just a bit.
“I have layers,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t know you could be funny.”
Jack hummed. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”
You shrug, picking at your fingers as you looked at the ground. “Maybe it’s because you’re always so quiet. People can get intimidated.”
“People are usually scared of me. Easier to stay quiet.”
The words were simple, matter-of-fact, but they landed with a strange weight in your chest that made you look back up at him.
“I’m not scared of you,” you said after a beat. It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t entirely false either.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he chuckled.
You laughed despite yourself, the sound a little nervous but genuine. “Okay, maybe a little. But not… not like that. Not the way people usually are.”
He didn’t respond right away. The music outside pulsed dully through the walls, the bass vibrating faintly under your feet. Jack shifted his stance, trying to get a little more comfortable in the tiny space, and ended up closer to you than before. The warmth coming off him was noticeable.
“You’re shaking a bit,” he said quietly.
You hadn’t even noticed. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to play it off. “It’s cold in here.” But that was a lie. If anything, it was just below sweltering.
“Semantics.” Jack hummed, clearly not believing you. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the wall, giving you a little more room—or at least trying to.
It got quiet again.
For nearly a full minute, the only sounds were the muffled thump of music outside and the occasional creak of the old floorboards whenever one of you shifted. Your mind wandered to the living room—wondering what kind of shit was unfolding now, who was winning at whatever stupid game they’d moved on to, whether Toby and Natalie were still laughing their heads off about you and Jack being stuck in here together or if someone else had voiced their opinions on it.
Then Jack spoke very matter-of-factly. “See? There it goes.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Your heart,” he said. “It’s calm now. You did it.”
You let out a small breath, almost laughing. “Ah… I didn’t really try to do it, though. It just… happened on its own.”
Jack huffed, he almost sounded amused. “Semantics.”
You rolled your eyes. “You can’t just say ‘semantics’ every time I make a point.”
“I can,” he replied, completely deadpan. “And I will.”
“Jack.”
“Semantics.”
“Jack.”
“Semantics.”
“This is very demeaning, y’know.”
“Semantics.”
You laughed at him. You were about to tease him again when Jack suddenly let out a chuckle—wait, a laugh? Not the short, dry sound he usually made with little amusement, but something warmer that bubbled up and out of his chest. His mouth curved into a wide, toothy grin, his sharp teeth gleaming like little pearls. His eyelids squeezed shut over his sockets as he laughed, and you found the sight so odd, like pulling a curtain over some void and trying to pretend it wasn’t there.
The sight caught you completely off guard. You’d never seen him smile like that—so open and genuine, almost boyish. It made something flutter oddly in your chest.
You laughed with him before you could stop yourself, surprised and delighted all at once. “What? What’s so funny?”
Jack just shook his head, still smiling big. “Nothing. You’re just… funny.”
You stared at him for a second, still processing the expression on his face. Then the question slipped out before you could think better of it.
“Jack… are you drunk?”
It was quiet again for a beat, until Jack let out a deep chuckle. The sound started delighted but quickly turned sheepish when you asked.
“No way,” you gawked, eyes wide.
Jack shrugged one broad shoulder. “Is it so obvious?”
You shook your head, still smiling. “No, it’s just… funny. This is probably the most I’ve ever heard you talk. And you’re being sarcastic? I thought, either that or you’re tripping.”
He laughed again and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, a little stunned. You’d never seen him like this.
“I barely even saw you drink tonight,” you added, tilting your head. “How did you manage that?”
Jack didn’t answer right away. Instead, that smile on his face shifted from one cheek to the other as he looked down at you. Something about the way he was watching you made your stomach flip with nerves again.
Then, without a word, he lifted his hands.
You watched, frozen, as his large gray hands curled under the hem of his baggy shirt. He slowly pulled it up, just high enough to expose his midsection. Your eyes widened.
God, he was built. Thick, solid muscle sat under muted gray skin, abs clearly defined and right above a deep v-line etched into his just-visible pelvis. A dark trail of hair disappeared down into the waistband of his sweatpants. You felt a little dizzy just looking at him.
But then your gaze caught on something much brighter.
Tucked neatly into the waistband of his sweatpants, wrapped all the way around his torso like some ridiculous colorful bandolier, were about two handfuls of little 99 brand alcohol shooters. Tiny bottles in every color—cherry red, lime green, coconut, orange, grape—all strapped against his skin, hidden right under his shirt.
You gawked at it.
Jack glanced down at himself, then back at you, still holding his shirt up. He must have noticed you staring at the colorful little bottles strapped around his waist, because he let out a low huff of a laugh and explained, “Toby and Nat ransacked a gas station right before the party started. They stole a whole bunch of these and hid them on me. Said it was the best way to keep them from getting passed around.”
You blinked, connecting the dots. “So that’s why you three have been glued together all night.
Jack gave a small nod. “They keep sneaking me into corners or bedrooms so nobody gets nosy and asks for any. Works pretty well.”
That also explained why Toby and Natalie had been so cuddly and hysterical—they were definitely beyond wasted by now.
“There were a lot more two hours ago,” Jack added, almost wistful.
Your eyes kept drifting between the little shooters and the hard planes of his torso, the contrast between the silly colorful bottles and his gray, muscled skin making your brain fizzle out a little.
Jack huffed. “Your heart’s loud again.”
You startled, pressing a hand to your chest like that would somehow quiet it. “Sorry. I’m trying.”
He reached down and plucked one of the shooters from his waistband—a bright cherry red one. The tiny bottle looked comically small in his large, clawed hand. He held it out toward you.
You waved him off. “I’ve had enough tonight, really.”
Jack’s mouth curved into a small, toothy smile. “As your doctor,” he said, deadpan, “it’s in your best interest that you drink this.”
You let out a surprised laugh. “As my doctor?”
A low growl rumbled in his chest, all gravely, and dark, and way more effective than it had any right to be. Every hair on your body stood on end.
“Drink it,” he said, quieter this time, but no less daunting.
You swallowed, took the little bottle from his hand, and twisted the cap off. It snapped open with a tiny clicks. You brought it to your lips and downed it in one go.
It burned.
God, it burned—like liquid fire sliding down your throat, sharp and sweet and way too strong. You winced, your eyes watering as the intense wave of alcohol hit your system. You hissed sharply as it went down, immediately tossing the empty shooter to the floor. “Jesus Christ, Jack—that tastes like rubbing alcohol.”
Jack laughed, then reached down and plucked a coconut-flavored one from his waistband, twisted the cap off, and downed it in one smooth motion. His pointed ears pressed back against his head as he swallowed, and then—to your viewing pleasure—three slick, dark tongues slipped out from between his sharp teeth. They curled around his lips, cleaning what he missed before disappearing again.
You stared, a little dazed.
The words left your mouth before your brain could convince yourself that you shouldn’t say anything.
“…Do things taste better with three tongues?”
Jack paused, considering the question like it was a serious inquiry. Then he shrugged one broad shoulder.
“It feels more intense,” he said plainly. “Like the taste is tripled. Overwhelms your senses more.”
Your heart skipped a beat in your chest.
Jack’s head tilted, his ears twitching a couple times. He must have heard it, because his gaze stayed fixed on you for a long second.
“…Can I taste yours?” he asked, just barely grumbling.
You blinked. “I already drank it all.”
Jack’s mouth curved into a wonky, toothy grin. The realization hit you just as the alcohol did.
Oh.
The buzz finally crashed over you in a warm, dizzy wave. Your heartbeat suddenly felt loud in your own ears, muffled like the music outside. You wondered if this was what Jack always heard when he was around people—that constant, frantic drumming. It made you wonder what else he could hear.
He shifted his weight onto the leg closest to you, leaning in until the space between you felt almost nonexistent. His shadow fell over you immediately like a stormcloud.
“You can taste mine too,” he purred.
You opened your mouth to say something—“Um—”—but your foot caught the edge of a box next to you. You stumbled, your balance completely gone.
Jack moved faster than you could see.
One strong arm hooked under your side and hauled you upright before you could even gasp, pulling you flush against his chest. Your hands instinctively grabbed onto his arms, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
“Sorry—” you started, breathless.
Jack just grumbled. His hands settled heavy on your hips, holding you steady as he leaned down over you, his face hovering just above yours. The closeness made your heart stutter all over again.
You looked up at him, still gripping his arms. “I’m not a good kisser,” you whispered, pulling uselessly at straws to not make this seem awkward.
Jack’s response was immediate and blunt.
“Shut up,” he muttered. “Open your mouth.”
The command sent a shiver down your spine. You tilted your face up obediently, lips parting.
Jack leaned in closer. His own lips parted, and three slick, warm tongues slid out from between his sharp teeth. They brushed your lips first—tasting the area—before one of them pressed forward and licked into your lips and across your tongue.
Then he kissed you.
It was overwhelming.
The three tongues moved with a mind of their own, sliding against yours, curling around it, exploring every inch of your mouth like they were starving for the taste of you. One licked along the roof of your mouth while another tangled with your tongue, the third teasing the space inbetween. The sensation was too much and not enough all at once, your hands moving up his arms to his shoulders to pull him closer.
A soft, surprised sound escaped you, muffled against his mouth. Jack answered with a low rumble in his chest, one hand sliding up your back to keep you pressed close while the other stayed firm on your hip.
He kissed like he did everything else—completely consuming.
You tasted coconut.
Jack pressed you back until your shoulder blades met the wall, one large hand planting beside your head while the other gripped your hip and pulled your lower body forward. The angle made your back arch slightly toward him. Then his hips rolled forward, and you felt the unmistakable, heavy shape of him pressing against your hip through his sweatpants.
You gasped sharply into his mouth and pushed weakly at his chest. “Sorry—” he slurred through a mouthful of you.
But Jack only tightened his grip on your hip and tugged you closer, grinding you against him with all the lack of resistance he had. His three tongues never stopped moving, overwhelming as they curled around yours and licked along the roof of your mouth, teasing the inside of your cheeks. You tried to kiss him back the best you could, but it was hard to keep up. Your breathing quickly turned shallow, little gasps and whimpers slipping out between the messy slide of tongues.
You’d never seen Jack like this.
He was usually so quiet, so reserved and mysterious. But right now he was surprisingly blunt, almost greedy with the things he was saying. This was probably the most you’d ever heard him talk, and you couldn’t get enough of it. The low growls, the occasional muttered curse, the way his voice dropped when he felt you react to him… it was doing dangerous things to your buzzed head.
You found yourself getting lost in those endless black voids where his eyes should be. The anxiety and embarrassment that had been clawing at your chest slowly melted away, like he was draining it out of you with every pass of his tongues and every roll of his hips.
Jack pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.
“Slow your breathing down,” he murmured, almost teasing you. One of his tongues slid across your bottom lip. “Still nervous?”
You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.
“A little,” you admitted. Then, quieter, “Don’t stop.”
Jack made a deep, pleased sound in the back of his throat. His hand on your hip squeezed harder as he leaned back in, tongues sliding back into your mouth with renewed hunger. His hips pressed forward again, letting you feel just how hard he was against you. His lips eventually left yours, trailing slowly across your cheek, then down to your jaw. When they reached your neck, he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss there before dragging one of his tongues along your skin. The sensation made you shiver.
His hand left the wall and came up to the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he firmly tilted your head to the side, giving himself more room. He licked wet, warm stripes up the side of your neck, then sucked just below your ear.
You gasped, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders. A nervous flutter shot through your chest as the reality of who he was hit you again.
“…Jack,” you breathed, half-joking but not entirely, “are you gonna eat me?”
He paused, his lips still pressed against your neck, before he begins chuckling against you.
“If you’ll let me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath causing goosebumps to rise across your shoulders. Your knees went weak instantly. A rush of heat flooded through you so fast it made you dizzy.
Jack must have felt it, because he straightened up, pulling back just enough to look down at you. One of his hands stayed on your hip, steadying you.
“You have no idea how brilliant your anatomy is,” he said plainly, as if he was just stating a fact. “I don’t mean to be crude… but your structure is perfect. I could map every inch of you with my eyes closed.”
You let out a startled laugh, your cheeks burning. The words were grotesque and strangely flattering at the same time.
“You can’t even see anyway,” you pointed out, still laughing a little. “Doesn’t that already mean you’re doing it with your eyes closed?”
“Kinda. It’s more like I’m looking through layers of thick film. Everything’s… foggy. I don’t understand it any better than you do. I stopped questioning how my body works a long time ago.”
You grinned, feeling bolder. “I don’t think you could actually do it without seeing. So what if you went to Yale, I’m still not that impressed with you.”
Jack’s hand lifted from the wall and reached above his head, his fingers finding the dangling pull chain of the overhead bulb.
You glanced up. “What are you doing?”
“So you know I’m not cheating,” he said simply.
He gave the chain a tug.
Click.
The light went out.
The closet plunged into near-total darkness, save for the thin sliver of hallway light bleeding in from under the door. For a second, your eyes struggled to adjust. And then you saw him.
In the dark, Jack was… horrifying.
The little light from beneath the door only barely outlined his silhouette, but it was enough. He looked like something that had crawled out of the woods at night—like something that you’d see in a horror movie. You understood his reputation, the stories you’ve heard from others about the things they witnessed the demon do, but you’d never faced the reality of it until now—never gotten a full picture of what he really was. His gray skin seemed to drink in what little light there was. The sharp points of his ears angled and swiveled to bumps and creaks all around. His claws curled at his sides, clenching the air as his shoulders slumped to account for the little space, his frame hanging over you. And those empty black sockets… they looked like holes punched straight through the sky. Bottomless. Ancient. You think they’d drop off like a cliff if you leaned any closer.
If you were anyone else, anywhere else—especially in the woods at night—you would’ve screamed and ran.
But you weren’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning closer.
Jack stepped in, pulling you against him with one arm around your waist. His mouth found your neck again, hot and wet as he kissed and licked along the flushed skin.
Then he began to map you. His fingers and lips moved carefully along your skin, until he pressed a kiss just beneath your ear.
“This is your Sternocleidomastoid,” he murmured against your skin, His clawed fingers traced the muscle on the other side of your neck, following the muscles shape. “Runs from here… to here.”
He dragged his mouth lower, his lips peppering your collarbone as his fingers followed.
“Clavicle,” he said, pressing lightly on the bone. “Deltoid…” His hand slid over your shoulder, squeezing the thick muscle there. “You hold so much tension right here.”
You shivered, little gasps and sighs as he massaged and traced areas. He had to maneuver you a bit, tugging you closer to his chest as he leaned down further. His fingers trailed down your side, his digits finding their way under your shirt until you felt them along your goosebumped skin. “External oblique…” His hand slid behind your back. “Latissimus dorsi…” Another kiss, lower this time, his teeth nipping as he moved. “You’re so well-built. Everything fits together so nicely.”
Jack’s hand slid down your arm until he caught your wrist. He lifted it and pressed a kiss to the thin skin on the inside, right where your pulse beat frantically.
“Right here,” he kissed it once more. “This vein runs straight to your heart.”
You thought it embarrassing how much you were shivering.
Then he moved his head lower, trailing his mouth down to your chest. He kissed you through your shirt, before slipping his hand from your back to your abdomen under your shirt. You felt shaky and exposed and way too vulnerable.
Jack’s claws curled and pressed in just a fraction at one specific point on your side, the sharp tips teetering on the idea of pressing further.
“This is your spleen,” he said with a little smile in his voice. “If I pressed any harder… I could puncture it. You’d bleed out quickly internally. It’d be so messy.”
He let the words settle in your head.
“Isn’t that interesting?” he whispered. “One little slip… and it could all be over.”
Anxiety twisted sharply in your stomach. But underneath it, something much darker and hotter stirred. Excitement. A sick, dizzy kind of thrill that made your thighs press together.
Jack noticed, because why-fucking-wouldn’t he? His claws dragged down your skin as his hand dipped lower, slipping toward the waistband of your pants. You grabbed his shoulders tightly.
“Wait—Jack, we don’t have much time,” you warned, looking to the door. “It’s gotta be almost seven minutes.”
He stopped for a second, only to chuckle to himself and lean back in, pushing a kiss against your jaw. Then, “I don’t think you really care,” he smiled. “Your body sure doesn’t.”
You whined as Jack’s hands roamed down your hips and around to your lower back, pulling you closer with a coaxing tug that said ‘I wasn’t really asking’. The heat of his palms bled through your clothes, making your skin prickle and scorch in spots.
“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, your nerves spiking to an all time high. “We can’t do this here—”
Jack just grinned at you. “It’s not me you’re gonna have to worry about getting us caught.”
You didn’t have time to ask what he meant.
His hands slid down and grabbed your ass, squeezing firmly. You squeaked, your hips jerking forward as you gripped the front of his shirt like a vice. Jack let out a satisfied noise and moved you exactly how he wanted—strong enough that you couldn’t have resisted even if you tried.
He spun you slightly, pressing your back more firmly against the wall as his fingers worked open the button and zipper of your jeans. The fabric gave way easily under his hands, the hem of your underwear peaking through the now-open folds. With one smooth tug, he shoved your jeans down your hips, letting them bunch around your thighs. The cool air hit your exposed skin and you shivered, trying to catch the breath that was so suddenly knocked out of you. Jack stood as straight as he could and examined his meal.
“Ah… fuck—just be fast, please,” you hissed.
Jack stood as tall as the low ceiling would allow, looking down at you by the bridge of his nose. And as if you couldn’t feel any smaller, he chuckled at you.
“You sure did give in quickly,” he hummed with satisfaction.
Embarrassment flooded your face. You squirmed against the wall, refusing to meet the place where his eyes should be. “Shut up and get on with it,” you grumbled, heat crawling up your neck.
Jack leaned in closer, planting one large hand on the wall beside your head. His other hand trailed down your side, then to your hip, before his fingertips drug over your stomach until they pressed firmly just above your pelvis. You tensed. Your hips tilted forward instinctively, fighting against the awkward bunch of your jeans still caught around your thighs.
His hand continued lower, stopping just above your clit, his palm hovering over the damp fabric of your panties. He leaned down until his mouth brushed your ear. “You’re in no place to get bossy right now,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.
Then he pressed one thick finger between your folds, right over your soaked panties. The fabric clung to you, and the moment his finger slid along your slit, it came away slick with your arousal. Jack kissed the edge of your jaw, peppering your skin, before pulling back just enough to look down between your bodies. A pleased sound escaped him.
“Well… this is a nice surprise,” and you could practically hear how pleased he was with himself.
You groaned in embarrassment and wrapped your arms tightly around his broad shoulders, burying your burning face into the side of his neck instead of letting him see you. His shirt smelled so strongly of his warm, crisp scent that it made you dizzy, but you’d rather hide from his taunting than pretend like it wasn’t turning you on something terrible. He could at least whisper it in your ear seductively, like a gentleman.
Jack’s finger continued rubbing exploratory circles over your clit, testing different pressures and angles to see how your body reacted. Every time he found a spot that made your hips roll or your breath punch out of you, he lingered there.
“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, trying to sound plain, but the thrill in his voice gave away how much he was enjoying this. “Look at you… getting even wetter every time I touch you.”
“Shut up,” you whined, the words muffled against his shoulder.
“But I like it,” he hummed softly. “I like how your body tells me what you won’t.”
“Because you’d tease me,” you tried not to sound as pathetic as you felt.
Jack’s voice felt like somebody dragging a hot brand across your skin. “But you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words got stuck somewhere between your pride and the heat scorching low in your belly.
Jack made a hum of acknowledgement, like he’d expected exactly that. His finger slipped beneath the edge of your panties, tugging the damp fabric to the side and exposing you to the air. You gripped him tighter, fearing if you’d let go you’d fall off the earth somehow.
He teased you—because why-fucking-wouldn’t he—dragging the pad of his finger along your folds, then higher up your inner thigh, then back again. But all so slow. He was enjoying how you tried (and failed) to stay still and not look desperate, your hips following wherever you felt his warm digits.
You pinched his shoulder in frustration.
Jack pinched you back, right on your upper thigh, “Impatient.”
“We don’t have time,” you nearly growled.
“Alright, alright,” he cooed.
Just as Jack’s fingers started honing toward your entrance, right when you thought he was finally going to give you what you wanted, you heard it. Heavy footsteps thumping down the hallway toward the two of you.
Your eyes flew open. Panic shot through you like ice water being poured over your head. You shoved at his chest, stumbling frantically, “Jack— I told you—”
But he didn’t stop.
Jack straightened up slightly, looking down at you like he always fucking did. His face was unreadable, but the corner of his mouth pulled up like he was amused. You tried to push his hand away, but he simply pressed forward, two thick fingers now sliding through your soaked folds and teasing at your entrance again.
“Jack—” you whisper-yelled, thinking maybe he thought you were still playing around, “we’re going to get caught—”
The footsteps grew louder, right outside the door now. Voices and laughter followed. But Jack brought his free hand up to his mouth in a little “shhh” motion, his pointer finger pressing to his lips. Then, without missing a beat, he reached beside him with that same hand and cracked the closet door open just an inch, enough for his face and upper torso to be visible while the rest of you stayed hidden against the wall and him.
Natalie and Toby’s voices burst through immediately.
“J!” Natalie called, clearly still drunk and delighted if the swimminess of her voice was any idea. “Time’s uuuup.”
Toby was laughing so hard he could barely speak, although nothing was really happening at the moment to warrant all the hysterics. “Is the poor thing still—HA—alive?”
But even still, Jack didn’t stop.
The tip of one thick finger pushed against your entrance, and before you could make a move to stop him, it pushed slowly into your aching cunt, stretching you open as you stood there, trapped between the wall and his body. You slapped a hand over your mouth instantly, eyes wide with panic and overwhelming pleasure as he sank the finger deeper, curling it lazily against your walls.
“Yeah,” Jack answered them, his voice back to its monotonous tone. “Alive. Barely.”
You clapped your hand over your mouth as his finger pumped in and out slowly, slick sounds barely masked by the loud music still blasting from the living room and their talking. Your knees trembled. Jack shifted his weight, pressing you harder against the wall to keep you upright while he casually chatted with his friends. You could see him trying to hold back a smile.
You couldn’t see Nat and Toby, but you assumed they were cheesing and standing on their tip-toes to try and get a view over Jack’s shoulder. “You didn’t actually bite ‘em, did you?”
Jack’s thumb found your clit just as a second finger tried to push in to join the first, the large digits catching on your entrance. It took shifting your hips, but they both pushed in. You could feel yourself clenching around him, having to bite down on your own hand to stay quiet.
“Not yet,” Jack finally grinned, his sharp teeth peeking out just as he curled his knuckles and massaged the inner wall of your cunt. “You shouldn’t eat big meals all at once.”
Toby wheezed with laughter. “You’re so w-weird, man. Hurry up and come out, we’re gonna d-do another round soon.”
Jack shifted his arm closer to your pelvis, the palm of his hand finding a home snug against your clit as he rubbed, curling his fingers just enough inside you to make small noises fight to escape.
“We’ll be out in a second,” Jack grinned. “We’re chatting.” The word alone sounded weird coming from his mouth, and Natalie sure didn’t miss it.
Natalie let out a loud, obnoxious laugh and slapped the wall on the other side of your head, making you jump. Jack acted like it was him adjusting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His fingers kept moving between your legs, massaging your soaked cunt as your slick dripped down over his knuckles. Your panties were absolutely ruined and you knew it.
He ignored her hysterics, turning his attention to Toby instead. “Hey. Remember those cases of beer you two stole? They’re still upstairs. Don’t forget them.”
It was like a starter pistol. Toby and Natalie immediately perked up.
Natalie cackled. “Jack, you’re a fucking genius. We’ll start another game! Take your time in there, you twoooo.”
Jack gave a small nod. “Start without us. We’ll be there soon.”
You heard their footsteps retreating down the hall, loud and clumsy with excitement, and maybe the sound of them shoving each other against the walls as they left. The second they were far enough away, Jack pulled the closet door shut, plunging you both back into near-darkness.
You immediately yanked your hand off your mouth.
“You asshole,” you hissed, smacking his chest. “I told you—I fucking told you—”
Jack just laughed, punctuating it as he curled his fingers deeper inside you. He bumped them, circling that perfect spot that made the words fizzle from your mouth.
“Did you hear that?” he leaned down next to your ear again. “They said we could take all the time we need.”
You gawked up at him, jaw dropping open in disbelief, but any protest died the moment he thrust his fingers harder, curling them just right until you felt a deep pressure in your gut. Your knees buckled. You tried to cover your mouth again, but the demon pulled your hand away.
“Jack—” you whimpered, pressing your head back against the wall to try and get some air.
He hummed in satisfaction, watching as he pumped his knuckles in and out, and in and out. “That’s what I thought,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe.
Just when you were about to give in, when your nerves finally melted under the heat of his touch, Jack easily pulled his fingers out of you.
You gawked at him, all breathless and frustrated. “You’re such an asshole.”
He just kept grinning. “For somebody who keeps saying we shouldn’t be doing this… you sure do get upset when I stop giving you what you want.”
Your face burned with embarrassment. Before you could snap back at him, his hands moved to your jeans, still bunched around your thighs. He tugged them down with ease, and you helped him by shimmying and kicking them off when they caught around your sneakers. They landed in a heap somewhere beside you. Then his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties. He snapped the thin fabric against your hip, making you hiss, before dragging them down your legs. You started babbling nervously, words tumbling out without thought.
“Jack—wait, this is—this is bad—we’re gonna get caught, someone’s gonna come back and—oh my god—”
Either he didn’t hear you or he didn’t care. Your panties slid down your thighs and pooled at your ankles. You managed to kick one foot free, but the other stayed tangled as Jack placed one large hand on the inside of your thigh and pushed your legs further apart. You tried not to shiver—out of nervousness or excitement, you weren’t sure—but you gripped the bottom of your shirt like it could somehow hide you. You felt so unbearably exposed, just standing there half-naked like there weren’t people just feet away outside.
“You smell so fucking good,” he murmured. “So sweet.”
“Jack…”
“I’ve wanted to taste you for a long time,” he admitted. “Now I finally get to.”
Jack dropped to his knees in front of you.
The floorboards creaked under his weight, and you felt it in your bones—that heavy, solid presence suddenly lower, looking up at you from the most beautiful angle you think you’d ever seen. It was a terrifyingly beautiful sight. He was so tall that even on his knees he took up most of the space, his broad shoulders sitting at your waist-height. His large hands came up to grip your thighs, thumbs rubbing from your hips down toward your knees, coaxing your legs further apart. You felt like you could crawl up the wall from pure nervousness as he leaned in closer.
He started soft.
Warm lips pressed to your hip, then lower to your pelvis, peppering slow, open-mouthed kisses across every inch of soft skin he could reach. His breath was hot against you. When he finally settled fully between your thighs, his face hovered right in front of your cunt. You could feel him grinning—you could feel it.
You reached down with shaky hands, grabbing fistfuls of his messy hair to steady yourself. “Jack… please be easy,” you whispered.
He tilted his head up. “What are you so afraid of?” His lips brushed your inner thigh as he spoke, and you had to swallow your nerves.
“Your teeth…”
Jack pulled back just enough to show them off—the sharp, gleaming points smiling up at you. Then, just to be funny, he snapped his teeth together right in front of your cunt, the clack making you jump.
He chuckled. “You’re alright. I won’t hurt you.”
Before you could say anything else, Jack leaned in fully. He pressed a soft kiss just above your clit, his nose brushing against your skin. Then his mouth disappeared between your legs.
“I won’t hurt you a bit.”
The first touch of his tongue made you melt.
One thick, warm, wet tongue pushed slowly between your folds, dragging up through your slick heat and soaking in the taste. The feeling was overwhelming—hotter and more intense than you expected. He groaned at the first taste, the vibration rolling straight through your core as he licked again, like he was tasting something he’d been starving for.
Your grip tightened in his hair, a broken whimper slipping from your lips as your head fell back against the wall.
Jack’s hands slid around the backs of your thighs, gripping firmly as he angled your hips forward, opening you up even more for him. He pressed his face deeper between your legs and licked a broad stripe through your folds, dragging the flat of his warm tongue right over your clit.
It felt like a thick, wet tentacle sliding against you, like it had a mind of its own. His spit coated your cunt in a ridiculous amount, dripping down your thighs and making everything messy and obscene. For someone so stoic and quiet in his everyday, Jack was suddenly a mouthful of grunts and hungry groans against your skin. His pointed ears fluttered against the sides of his head with every lick, and his claws tugged and gripped against your thighs like he couldn’t pull you close enough.
You felt your resolve completely dissolve.
Your bones went soft, your legs relaxing as you started grinding against his tongue, chasing the pleasure with desperate rolls of your hips. Jack groaned deeply in response like he was approving the movements.
“Mhhm…” you whimpered, trying to curb your embarrassment to let him hear you. “Feels so good, Jack… feels really good—”
He made an appreciative sound and nudged the tip of his tongue against your entrance. It took some effort, but his fingers had done most of the hard work of stretching you, so your eyes rolled deliciously as his tongue breached your entrance and nudged its way inside your cunt. His tongue was longer and thicker than his fingers had been. It slid into your soaked heat with ease, warm and gummy from how wet you already were, reaching deeper than anything had before. You whined loudly, your hips jerking as he began to fuck you with it with thrusts that curled and stroked inside you.
Jack groaned as your hands gripped his messy hair, his eyelids slowly closing over those dark abysses you keep getting lost in.
But Jack was completely lost in you—eating you like a starving man, grunting and growling against your cunt while his claws dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open for his mouth. Every time you clenched around his tongue he made a pleased noise and pushed even deeper than before.
You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words died on your tongue the moment you felt it. A second tongue nudged insistently against your full entrance, probing and pushing alongside the first. It tried to slip in, but the angle was tight. You shifted your hips, trying to help, but Jack made an impatient growl and moved.
One of his large hands slid down the back of your thigh, hooked under your knee, and lifted it smoothly. He pushed your leg up and outward, spreading you open even wider before resting your knee over his shoulder. The new position left you imbalanced, and you had to halfway hold onto the wall and him for support.
But that was all the room he needed.
The second tongue nestled in alongside the first with a lewd plunge. You groaned loudly, your head falling to your shoulder as you felt too dazed to stand up straight. Two thick, warm tongues filled your cunt, pushing and pulling, curling and stroking against your walls in a messy, uncoordinated rhythm that somehow felt even better because of it.
“Fuck—Jack—” you whimpered, your voice breaking on every word.
He groaned in response, letting you know it felt good for him too. His claws dug into the soft flesh of your thigh as he held your leg in place beside his head. The sensation was insane. You felt so impossibly full, every inch of your cunt being claimed by him. Spit and your own wetness dripped down your thighs and his chin as his tongues worked deeper, twisting and exploring like they were trying to map every part of you from the inside.
You felt it before you could even process it—before you’d even had time to process the second one—a third tongue slipped from between his lips, sliding wetly between the other two. It nudged right up against your swollen clit, pressing and rubbing torturously well.
A violent shiver ripped through you. Your hands flew from his hair to his ears, your fingers curling around the pointed tips to get some semblance of stability.
Jack shuddered. His whole body jolted like he’d been shocked. His ears pinned flat against his head for a second before flicking wildly under your touch. The reaction was so sudden and strong that you both froze for half a heartbeat.
Then, cautiously, you started rubbing them.
Your thumbs stroked over the sensitive tips and along the soft lobes, gently feeling his cat-like ears. He tried his best to keep licking you, but kept getting caught on stiff moans.
“Jack…” you gasped. “Umm… Does that feel good?”
He nodded against you, jaw and chin bumping messily into your soaked folds. He was taking deep, loud breaths through his nose, exhaling against you. Then the most unexpected sound rumbled out of his chest.
A low, rumbling purr.
At first you thought it was just your own nerves buzzing in your head, but no—you could feel it. The vibration rolled through his chest and straight into your bones, all warm and constant, making your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut.
“Oh my god—” you moaned, your mouth falling open as the sensations intensified. It felt obscene, like his entire body was vibrating against your most sensitive places and melting your mind.
Jack was losing himself, too. His purring grew louder, deeper, as you kept stroking and rubbing his ears. His tongues moved with renewed hunger—two thrusting and curling inside you while the third flicked and sucked messily at your clit. It seemed as if he was wholly content on drowning himself in you.
You were babbling now, open-mouthed and shameless. “Fuck—Jack, that feels—hah—oh god—I can’t—please—”
The pressure built fast—too fast. A sudden, overwhelming wave of bliss crashed over you, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat.
“Jack—Jack, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, scrambling to hold him tighter.
His eyelids fluttered open halfway, empty eyesockets staring up at you while you trembled. You got lost staring into them, your head spinning to a heap of mush as you felt pleasure running your veins. That look alone pushed you over the edge.
You came so miserably hard.
Your whole body seized up, thighs shaking violently around his head as pleasure ripped through you in crashing waves. You clenched desperately around his tongues, moaning loud and shamelessly as your orgasm flooded his mouth. Jack groaned at the beginning of the taste, your slick flooding his senses so quickly it made him just as delirious as you.
His tongues stiffened inside you, pressing and nudging firmly against your rapidly clenching walls, milking every last pulse of pleasure as he sucked greedily on your clit. His nose stayed crammed tight against you, his lips sealing around you as he swallowed again and again, drinking everything you so graciously were giving him.
You were loud at first—broken moans and desperate praises spilling from your lips without filter. But as the peak began to fade, it melted into soft, mewled whines and shaky groans. Your orgasm turned into a rippling, lingering current deep in your gut, sending aftershocks through your body that made your legs twitch and your hips jerk weakly against his face.
With some effort, Jack began to tug his tongues from your body one at a time, the thick muscles sliding out of you, and a mess of slick followed. Jack made sure to lick it all up, his tongues running through your folds once more, savoring every twitch and flutter like he couldn’t bear to pull away.
You gasped sharply, everything suddenly feeling way too oversensitive.
“Jack—wait, it’s too much,” your voice was hoarse. “Too sensitive—”
He made a reluctant sound but slowly retreated, his tongues slipping back into his mouth like it pained him to do so. He sat back on his knees, looking up at you. His chin and mouth were glistening with a messy mix of his spit and your slick, and those black voids stared at you with unmistakable longing.
The moment he pulled away, the leg you still had planted on the floor buckled. You slid down the wall with a surprised yelp, landing in a boneless heap in front of him. Your ankle was still hooked over his shoulder, leaving you sprawled and openly exposed across his lap.
Jack caught you instantly though, his strong hands bracing your waist so you didn’t hit the floor too hard. You panted quickly, your chest billowing up and down as you tried to catch your breath. It felt like your whole body was buzzing.
Before you could even try to sit up, Jack gripped the ankle resting on his shoulder and tugged upward. You were pulled further down until your ass rested on top of his knees, your shoulders braced against the baseboards behind you. You felt like you were folded in half. You tried to scramble upright, feeling awkward, but Jack was already catching your other leg—the one with your panties still dangling uselessly from the ankle—and lifted it smoothly onto his opposite shoulder.
“More,” he grumbled.
Your stomach flipped with panic.
“No, no, no—wait, I need a minute,” you babbled through deep breaths of air, throwing your hands up. “I can’t—you’re too much, I need to breathe—just for a second—”
But he wasn’t listening. His focus had narrowed completely. Those endless black sockets were fixed between your legs with single-minded hunger.
“I’m sorry,” was all the response you got.
“Jack—”
He handled you like you weighed nothing.
His hands gripped your hips firmly and pulled your lower half upward in one smooth motion. Your knees hooked over his broad shoulders as your head and shoulder blades slid and landed against the floor. Your body folded almost in half, completely upside down, your shirt riding up to expose your stomach and chest. His large arms wrapped around your torso, strong hands gripping the soft flesh of your sides, holding you securely in place so you couldn’t even squirm out of it if you wanted to.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, but there was no real remorse in it. If anything, he just sounded excited. “You just taste so fucking good… I need you to cum again. Just a little more. Then I’ll be done.”
Your head was already spinning from the rush of blood, so you had no fight in your body or your words. You gripped his arms tightly, trying to brace yourself.
“Let’s just go to my room,” you fussed, trying to get him to just take a second. “It’s way too cramped in here, we can’t—”
But every protest died on your tongue the instant you felt it.
A familiar sensation dragged up through your soaked folds in a broad, wet lick. Your legs fell open limply over his shoulders as a broken moan wailed from your throat. The new angle gave him the perfect access, angling you however he wanted.
“Oh god…”
Jack moaned as he licked again, savoring every inch of you like he couldn’t get enough. His arms tightened around your torso, pulling your hips up and against his hungry mouth.
“Fuck…” he rasped against your cunt. “Do you even know… mhnnn… how good you taste?”
Jack’s eyelids fluttered shut again, the black voids disappearing as he focused entirely on you.
Then you saw it—the absolute horror and fascination of his other two tongues slipping out from between his lips to join the one. They were sickly blue-black, glistening and drooling with spit, long and monstrously thick. They dangled for a moment before curling forward, licking up the insides of your thighs until they finally converged, forking together right at your entrance.
Through a mouthful of his own tongues, Jack mumbled against your cunt, “Jus’ hang on to me.”
You dug your nails into his forearms, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the three tips pressed against your pulsing entrance at once. Your hips jerked, thighs instinctively trying to clamp shut around his head, but Jack held you firmly in place. It took a little work—a slight shift of your hips, a change of the angle—but eventually, the three tongues wiggled their way inside you together.
The stretch was impossible.
You let out a keening moan as your walls were forced open wider than they’d ever been, the bulbous, wet muscles filling you as completely as they could reach. No inch of room was left untouched. The sensation of burning was so intensely good that your mind went fuzzy at the edges. Your body went limp and mushy in his hold, your legs shaking helplessly over his shoulders as he sank all three tongues as deep as they could go.
Jack groaned loudly into you, the sound vibrating through your core as he began to move them, greedy thrusts and curls that rubbed against every sensitive spot inside you at once. Spit and your own arousal dripped messily down your ass and stomach as he practically fucked you with them.
You could barely think. All you could do was cling to his arms, your mouth open in a silent cry as he devoured you from the inside out, purring and growling enough to cause concern that he might actually be eating you.
And as if it couldn’t get any worse—or wonderfully better—Jack shifted one of his arms from your torso up to between your legs. His thumb found your throbbing clit and began rubbing slow circles over it, smearing your own wetness across the sensitive bud.
The shock of pleasure was devastating.
Your back arched hard off his lap, spine curving sharply as a silent cry tore through you. Your hands flew up above your head, palms slapping against the wall behind you for any kind of leverage. You tried to speak—tried to moan his name, to beg, to curse—but nothing came out. All the air had been punched out of your lungs. The only sounds your body could produce were the wet, filthy squelches of your cunt accommodating its intruder. You bucked your hips desperately, riding his face as much as your weak, trembling legs would allow. Every thrust of his tongues and stroke of his thumb sent white-hot sparks shooting up your spine. Your thighs shook violently over his shoulders, muscles twitching uncontrollably as you ground yourself against his mouth and tongue like you’d lost all semblance of control.
Jack’s purring grew louder, deeper, the constant rumble vibrating straight into your cunt and making your eyes roll back. He was completely lost in you, this newfound, insatiable hunger dampening his mind until all he could do was eat. You couldn’t even form words anymore. Couldn’t even think anymore.
You felt it building again—that familiar coil tightening deep in your core, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his tongues and stroke of his thumb.
“Ja… Ja—ck… Jaahh—” you tried to warn him, but your voice was just as useless as the rest of your body. Your hand slapped weakly at his arm, your fingers grappling desperately as panic rose.
But Jack didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t. If anything, he doubled down. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, spilling over and running down your flushed cheeks as the pleasure became almost too much. You managed one shaky, broken whimper of his name right before you felt it.
Little sharp pinpricks.
Your eyes flew open through the tears. Jack had pulled back just enough for you to see his face. His lips were pulled back in a growl, sharp teeth fully exposed and pressed right against your slick, sensitive folds. Not breaking skin, not hurting you, but just resting there, a deadly reminder of exactly what he was.
You almost found it shameful how quickly that ruined you.
Your eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering uselessly as your vision blurred. You saw his face, then the ceiling, then the back of your eyelids—and then white.
“I’m cumming—fuck, I’m cumming—” you blabbed, trying ridiculously hard to say nearly nothing. “Jack—I’m—oh god—”
This one slammed into you harder than the last.
Your whole body seized up, back arching violently as you came with a silent, open-mouthed cry. Your cunt clenched hard around his invading tongues, pulsing and gushing around them as wave after wave crashed through you. Tears streamed down your face pathetically.
Jack growled louder against you, the sound feral and satisfied as he drank down every drop you gave him. His tongues kept working you through it, thrusting and curling relentlessly gathering everything they could.
“Jaaaaack—” you mewled.
He finally pulled his tongues out of you with a wet pop sound, leaving you clenching around nothing. He was panting hard against your cunt, his breath hot and ragged as he licked slowly through your folds, then across your trembling thighs, cleaning every trace of your release like he couldn’t help himself.
Your legs slipped weakly from his shoulders, falling limply around his hips. For a long moment, the only sounds in the tiny closet were your shared heavy breathing and the distant thump of music as you tried to calm yourselves. Jack looked down at you, his face glistening with your slick. He stayed quiet, just watching you with those endless black sockets while you tried to remember how to breathe.
When your breathing finally evened out a little, he asked softly, “Are you alright?”
You managed a small, shaky nod.
Jack carefully helped you sit up, guiding your back against the wall. “Can you stand?”
You tried shifting your weight, but your legs felt like jelly. You shook your head, embarrassed.
He let out a low chuckle. “It’s alright.”
Jack moved your legs gently off his lap so he could stand. He turned and rummaged through the hanging coats until he found one that looked soft and long enough. Without an explanation, he draped it over your mostly naked body, wrapping it around you like a blanket. Before you could even thank him, he leaned down and scooped you up into his arms. One arm hooked under your knees, the other supporting your back as he held you securely against his chest. He bent down just enough to snag your discarded jeans off the floor.
You clutched the coat tighter around yourself. “Jack, I can’t go out there like this…”
He chuckled again, the sound warm in his chest. “Toby and Nat have everyone occupied by now. No one’s gonna notice.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Besides… I think a nice bath in my room could do you some good.”
You hesitated for half a second, then nodded, too tired and floaty in the head to argue.
Jack cracked the closet door open, listening for a moment, his ears swiveling around. When the coast seemed clear, he slipped out with you cradled against him, your arms grabbing around his neck. You both moved quickly down the opposite end of the hall, away from the noise of the party. Laughter and shouting echoed from the living room as you snuck up the stairs like two stowaways.
He never let his grip loosen on you for a second.
Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!
sukuna sprawled out on your shared bed, two arms above his head, one across his stomach, and another lied idly on your thigh. his hair was messy, strands all over the place, and a few somehow shaped into bangs over his forehead. his stomach-mouth was open, softly snoring while showing off his large fangs.
and although he looked so comfortable, and the moonlight softly shone through the curtains of your quarters, you took a minute to leave. softly, you moved his large hand off your thigh, placing it close to where you slept instead.
after you’ve quietly retreated to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, sukuna almost immediately woke up from the loss of your touch.
he softly grumbled when he didn’t feel your body warmth, then he grabbed at what he wanted to be you, but instead met with sheets.
a huff escaped him, and he turned onto his side with a groan, half sitting up and using a hand to prop himself up.
“wife..” he called out, mumbling with his natural rough voice, a frown appearing on his face.
and almost as if you could sense how he already missed you dearly, not knowing how long you’d been gone, you slowly creaked the door open, walking in with a glass of water. as you sat it on the nightstand, your heart ached as sukuna blearily stared up at you with half-lidded eyes. he slowly blinked up at you like a cat, and his hair stuck up in many different directions.
some drool escaped the corner of his mouth, and you smiled. he probably didn’t even notice.
finally, you climbed into bed again, softly mumbling, “i know, i’m here,” with a smile as he already began reaching towards you to pull you closer.
your hand found his chest, and you rubbed comforting circles on his tattoos as you left a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. before you could pull away, he softly nudged your head with his, letting out a soft sigh as his hand found your back.
but you reached up, hand finding his hair as you play with it. he pushed his head into your hand, asking for more touch.
“you have bed head hair,” you whispered as his eyes nearly closed.
but he murmured, shaking his head with a pout, “i do not,” he let out a dramatic huff, glaring at you with all four eyes.
“whatever you say, honey,” you mumbled as you looked down at him, hand still running through his hair.
and within seconds, he’s asleep as quickly as he woke up. this time, he’s lulled to sleep by your touch. he’s right where he wants to be, falling asleep every night in the arms of his wife.
ib this art by sukunaglazer23 on twt he’s so adorable oml
🜼 ⋆ sukuna dicking your soul down rough til you pass out.
every time sukuna thrusts rough, you lose consciousness—
or almost. you wish you could. you wish your body would give you that mercy. but sukuna—? sukuna won’t let you.
“no,” he growls against your skin when your eyes roll back, when your breath stutters and your neck goes soft in his grip. “don’t start fading on me again. stay the fuck here.”
you try. fuck, you try. but it’s so hard to keep your mind inside your body when he’s fucking you this deep—this long—this cruelly. when the world folds in on itself and your belly feels split open from the inside.
he’s not even slamming into you anymore. not fast, not frenzied. just slow, hard thrusts like he’s hammering you into the floor with the weight of his entire body. and each one cracks you open a little more.
each one makes the edges of your vision shiver.
you manage a sound—gghhh—but it’s not a word. it’s not even a whimper. your mouth is hanging open, tongue pressed dumb against your teeth, brain full of nothing but him.
but you want to speak. you need to and so you force it. push the air up your throat and force it to shape.
“you’re… kuna— too deep!”
his palm tightens at your neck. not choking, not cutting off anything vital—just letting you know he could.
“oh, am i,” he asks, voice smooth and mean now, laced with satisfaction. he pulls out nearly to the tip. holds. waits. and then—
slams forward.
the shock of it lights up your whole spine.
“say it,” he taunts, bending low over your back. “go ahead. tell me to stop.”
“sukuna—” you sob, trying to drag his name out of your wrecked throat. “i— i can’t— i’m— i’m gonna—”
you don’t even know what you’re saying. the words aren’t forming right. they slip out soft and breathless and wrong, syllables knocked loose by the steady rhythm of his hips driving into yours.
but he laughs. quiet, low in your ear. so fucking pleased.
“you’re gonna what?” he says. “pass out again? go dumb on my cock?”
you shake your head, even though it’s true. you’re so close to it—vision fluttering, limbs going watery, your cunt clenching around him like you’re begging for it anyway.
“no— i’m tryin’—” your voice cracks. “i’m tryin’ to stay—”
“then stay,” he snaps, hand slipping from your throat to your jaw, forcing your face toward him even though your eyes can’t quite focus. “you begged for this, remember? told me to fuck the brat out of you. told me you could take it.”
another thrust—sharp, brutal—and your body jerks. your knees slide farther apart. drool spills down your chin.
and still, you try. one more breath. one more word.
“kuna, b-baby—” but this time, all you get is black.
Tldr: Sev wears her strap casually, you don’t know what that is but she shows you
A/n: im impatiently waiting for more The Vampire Lestat episodes, also reading the book, also also got back into Date Everything a lil bit
Sevika was wearing that cropped shirt of hers again. Something is at her hips, you squint. Now, it is a bit odd on your part to be gawking at the most-powerful-woman-in-Zaun’s hips in the club a fair bit like a pervert but you’re just so… drawn in. There’s nothing perverse in curiosity, is there? Still side-eyeing her hips.
After a good bit of peeking, your eyes meet. Immediately you avert your gaze, trying to be nonchalant but you actually look like a dog that got caught tearing up the couch. Sev doesn’t question it, honestly with how strong your gaze was she thought something spilled on her pants. She goes on about her night though; playing cards, drinking, smoking, club stuff. You’re glad you weren’t caught, thank goodness. But you keep on peeking.
You know how that quote goes though; curiosity killed the cat.
“Why do you keep on starin’?” A voice comes from behind you. That could literally be only one person. Sevika is behind you, bourbon in glass, in hand. You’re beyond embarrassed, finally caught; you’d make one shitty criminal with how obvious you are.
“What… what do you got on?” You finally ask, eluding to the cloth that comes from under her pants around her hips. The two of you look down, then back up at each other. “Wanna find out?” Huh. “Sure.” You chirp.
Well, my, my, my. You’re bent over her desk, getting your back blown out. Whining and writhing, her hips meeting the back of you making the loud, known sound of skin against skin. She prepped you before hand, using lube and all, very thoughtful and thorough. And now here you are; getting fucked dumb by the big mama herself.
“Jesus- S-Sev-, oh my god-“ face pressed against the desk, squelching being heard from below but you’re too pleasured to care about how stupid wet you are. With a thump, your forehead is against the desk, your legs feeling like they’re gonna give before Sevika holds you up. “Yeah? You like it?” Nipping your ear, and a bit at your neck. “I’m practically splitting you in half, pretty girl.” She teased, hand coming down to feel your slick slide down your thighs. “Needed me that bad?” Still fucking into you evenly.
You nod weakly, arching into her grasp like a dog seeking petting. “F-ffuck- nghhhhnnm-“ clenching your thighs, feeling the heat coil in your stomach. “Don’t stop- please- don’t stop!” You moan out, not caring who could hear. The club music was booming; maybe no one could hear you two after all. “Wasn’t planning on it, baby doll.” She spoke, continuing to milk the pleasure from you, tip brushing right against your sweet spot. You let out a cry, sobs leaving you as she abuses that spot. Leaving you quivering and sensitive after your strong orgasm.
She pulls out, scooping you up and sitting you on her lap while she relaxes in the desk chair. Soothing those nerves, stroking your thighs and letting you come down from it all.
pro tip: don't talk bad about yourself in front of sukuna | mdni suggestive
to say sukuna doesn't like when you disrespect yourself would be untrue, because he doesn't even let you get that far. you're his, which means when you talk bad about yourself, you're offending him too.
he'll slap your ass as he passes by you getting a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, in nothing but one of his shirts and an old pair of pj shorts, hair a mess. he lets out a "fuck, don't tempt me right now," his eyes scanning you from head to toe with that familiar heat in them.
your brows furrow in confusion and you literally go to the bathroom to look in the mirror to check that your appearance didn't magically ameliorate from the last time you saw yourself. he follows you and you're almost offended when you look in the mirror. is he playing a prank on you?
"what? i literally look-"
his hand comes to grab your throat gently but firm, a brow raised as he stares down at you and then through the mirror. "you look what?" his gaze is daring you to say something negative.
you can feel that he's not joking. you swallow, "um, good?"
he hums satisfied and pulls you closer, bending down to kiss you, the way his tongue smoothly finds its way into your mouth has heat spreading through your body.
he pulls back and looks you over again appreciatively, smushing your cheeks playfully before walking away. "s'what i thought."
The entire house was empty, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except you were bored out of your mind. With Simon gone on deployment for the past few weeks, the silence felt heavier than usual, pressing in on every corner.
You found yourself flipping through channels aimlessly, scrolling through your phone for the fifth time, and counting down the days until you could hear his voice again, rare as those moments were during missions.
And yet, your boredom was doing something it rarely did: it was pushing you into forbidden territory. That’s how you ended up rifling through Simon Ghost Riley’s closet. His private stuff. The one place he had explicitly told you not to touch.
At first, it had seemed daunting—a warning more than an invitation—but curiosity, as always, won. What you found was… staggering.
Weapons carefully lined up in padded cases, belts and holsters stacked neatly, various tactical pouches and gloves laid out with precision, and, tucked away at the back, a small arsenal of firearms.
You didn’t intend to touch any of them; after all, you had no idea how they all worked, and honestly, some part of you respected the deadly precision in which Simon kept them.
Still, your attention wasn’t on the guns. Your eyes wandered over the tactical vests, straps, and helmets. The sheer amount of gear was enough to make your head spin. Knives tucked in hidden sheaths, belts lined with unidentifiable gadgets—you could feel a small thrill creeping up your spine at the thought of the meticulous care this man put into his equipment.
And then, tucked beneath a folded tactical vest, your fingers brushed against something soft. You pulled it out and froze for a second: two balaclavas with a skull print, and beside them, what you assumed was one of his extra masks.
Extra balaclavas? Extra mask? Somehow you had assumed he’d been using the same one for years. That was… kind of stupid, in hindsight.
Your lips curved into a smirk, because let’s be honest: the man looks fucking incredible in that mask. All stoic, intimidating, untouchable. And now, here it was, in your hands, begging to be… tested. Your brain rationalized it immediately: boredom is deadly, and this is perfectly entertaining.
You tossed aside your own sweater, ignoring the way the weapons and gear lay scattered across the floor, and tugged on one of the balaclavas first. The fabric slid over your head, obscuring your face and leaving only your eyes visible.
You blink at your reflection in the full-length mirror, raising an eyebrow. Okay… slightly terrifying. Slightly hot, you think, tugging on the straps of a tactical vest over your body.
You grabbed the helmet next, sliding it over your head with a grunt. Your vision was limited, and you nearly tripped over one of the pouches that had fallen onto the floor. “Yep. Definitely not Ghost Riley.” You laughed, a quiet, breathy sound, spinning in place to see your reflection from every angle.
The skull-printed balaclava shifted slightly under the helmet, and you adjusted it, finally settling into a pose that felt… vaguely threatening.
You crouched slightly, mimicking some sort of tactical stance, and giggled at how tiny and awkward you looked. His vest practically swallowed your torso, the helmet sliding down over your eyes just enough to make you bump into the dresser.
You straightened, hoisting a ridiculously heavy rifle in your hands as if it weighed nothing, the oversized weapon almost dragging against your shoulder.
You planted your feet wide, crossed your arms over the barrel, and leaned slightly forward, tilting your head just like he did when assessing a target. Okay, deep husky Ghost voice… you think, and your giggles threaten to give you away.
“You don’t see me,” you murmur, trying to sound menacing, voice low and clipped, “but I see everything. Don’t move, don’t breathe… or you won’t make it out alive.”
You can’t help it—a little snort escapes as you mimic his serious glare in the mirror, and suddenly you’re laughing at how absurdly intense you look, holding a gun twice your weight.
Your shoulders start to ache under the weight of the gun, the M4A1 digging into your collarbones. You huff and grunt, wiggling, trying to lift it off properly. But your arms give out, and with a thud, the weapon hits the floor, echoing against the hardwood.
You wince. Yeah, probably shouldn’t have been handling a lethal weapon like a toy. But in this moment, the discomfort doesn’t matter.
You freeze mid-laugh, balaclava half-off, and feel a cold, electric prickle run down your spine. Every instinct screams that someone is there. You don’t have to turn, your body knows.
Fuck.
Slowly, carefully, you pivot, heart hammering, only to find the bedroom door framed by the silhouette of Ghost. Standing there like he just materialized from the shadows themselves, arms crossed over a chest that seems carved from steel, shoulders broad enough to eclipse the doorway. His presence presses down on you in a way that is both terrifying and mesmerizing.
His eyes sweep over the chaos you’ve created: the closet flung open, weapons strewn about like toys, the M4A1 lying on the floor, and the balaclava dangling limply from your fingers.
And then, finally, his gaze lands on you. Wide-eyed, stiff, a deer caught in headlights would have been lucky compared to your posture, half-draped in his gear, pretending to be the deadliest man alive while failing spectacularly.
You open your mouth, a million excuses spilling out at once. “I—I—”
“I can explain—”
“It was just… bored, and I—”
And to your fucking shock, instead of screaming at you or lecturing you, he just… laughs. A loud, low chuckle that rumbles through the room, catching you completely off guard.
Your jaw drops. He’s laughing at you. At this mess. At you pretending to be him. You can only gape, completely dumbfounded.
“I… I wasn’t doing anything! I—”
Before you can finish, Simon steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. He takes the balaclava from your hands and presses it against your chest for a second before leaning down, his voice low and smooth, almost dangerous.
“You rifled through my closet, played dress-up,” he drawls, circling you slowly, each step measured, deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. “And stood here pretending to be me?”
You cross your arms defensively, trying to regain some composure. “I—It’s not like I—”
“Mhm,” he hums, the sound full of amusement and mock judgment, dragging the word out as he stops behind you. “Did you like it?”
“What?” you whisper, confused, heat creeping up your neck.
“Did you, dove?” His hands hover near your waist, fingers brushing lightly against your hips as if testing your reaction. “Did you like holding the guns, feeling… powerful?”
You freeze, caught between embarrassment and excitement. Your throat goes dry, pulse spiking as you realize just how close he is. For a long beat, you don’t answer, your shyness betraying you, letting him watch every flicker of reaction.
He steps closer, the press of his chest against your back making it impossible to ignore him. One hand slides hard along your waist, anchoring you, while the other dips just below your ear, tracing the line of your pulse with the back of his fingers. You feel the heat of his breath, low and deliberate, ghosting against your skin.
“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet growl, “tell me… did ya feel the power? Felt the control?”
Your knees threaten to buckle. You nod quickly, almost too breathless to speak. “Y-yes… I felt powerful.”
Simon finally pulls back just enough for you to meet his gaze. Through the mask, you can see the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, sharp and knowing. “Does that mean,” he says, his tone teasing and dangerous all at once, “I should submit to you?”
You feel a flush sweep over your face, heat pooling low in your belly at just how close he is, at how impossibly present he is.
He leans in again, close enough that you can feel his body, close enough that you can smell him, and every instinct screams that you’re completely at his mercy—yet it’s intoxicating, thrilling, and maddening all at once.
“You—don’t—ever,” he says softly, brushing his thumbs along your cheek, lingering on your jawline, “get to act like that without me knowing, got it?”
You shiver under the intensity of him, caught somewhere between guilt and excitement. “Yes,” you whisper, barely audible.
You freeze, staring at the rifle lying on the floor, heart hammering in your chest. Simon’s eyes snap onto yours, sharp and commanding, and suddenly you feel like the entire room has shrunk down to just the two of you.
“Come on,” he says, voice low, just above a growl. “Hold the gun. You wanna feel powerful, don’t ya?”
You swallow, hands trembling as you reach down and pick it up, the weight unfamiliar in your arms. “Simon… what?” you whisper, uncertain.
“Hold it,” he hisses, stepping closer, his presence pressing down on you. Shakily, you lift the rifle, aligning it with his instructions, feeling the raw heft settle into your arms.
Then he drops to his fucking knees.
His eyes lock on yours with that intense, unreadable focus, and for a moment it’s just you and him, the weight of the rifle in your hands and the unspoken electricity vibrating between you.
A shiver runs down your spine as he adjusts his position, his hands brushing against your thighs to steady you, his gaze intense, reading every reaction. You can’t help the small whimper that escapes as your pulse races under his attention.
“Steady, dove,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, almost purring. “Feel the power, feel the control. Don’t let it scare you.”
He reaches up, pulling you even closer to him to where his face is facing your slick heat, and leans in closer looking at you up through his mask. “Look at me. You’re in charge here. I’m under your control. You fucking control me.”
Your legs go weak under the pressure of his gaze, the teasing dominance of his stance, the way he kneels like he’s completely devoted to you while letting you hold all the authority.
You nod, words failing you, heart thundering in your chest.
Simon smirks beneath his mask, thumbs lightly brushing your thighs, and then he pulls your pants down and slides your soaked panties to the side. “That’s it,” he says softly, voice dark and amused. “Atta girl, already wet.”
You whimper, the gun slipping in your hands, wobbling uncontrollably.
Simon's eyes snap onto yours, sharp and commanding.
"I said hold the fucking gun," says, voice low, unwavering.
He steps closer, still on his knees, takes the rifle from your hands, and slowly, deliberately points it at himself.
Kneeling there, his gaze locks with yours, and the moment hangs, electric and charged, raw with unspoken intensity. “If I don’t make you cum, you shoot me.’’
And then he’s diving straight in, devouring you, leaving you a moaning mess against the wall, still holding a gun pointed at none other than Ghost's head.
a/n: first simon fic!! ahh this was so fun to write. i have a bunch more fics planned for this man, and i can't wait to share them. this felt like a little test run on writing him <3
The screen of your phone lit up with a picture of Sukuna looking entirely unamused, his contact name accompanied by a string of heart emojis that you had forced him to set up himself.
You swiped to answer, balancing your water bottle and yoga mat under one arm as you stepped out of the pilates studio and into the sweltering afternoon heat.
“Tell me you’re outside,” you breathed into the receiver, scanning the line of parked cars. “Because my legs are literally shaking and if I have to walk more than ten feet, I’m going to collapse on the pavement.”
A heavy sigh crackled through the speaker. “I’m sorry babe, not outside.”
You stopped in your tracks. “What do you mean you’re not outside? Babe, you promised.”
“I know, but the meeting ran over,” he grumbled, the sound of a pen clicking rapidly in the background giving away his irritation. “I can’t leave for another forty minutes. Order a Lyft.”
“A Lyft? Are you kidding me? Do you know what the surge pricing is right now?”
“When has that became a problem for you and more importantly, for ME?” he shot back, his voice dropping an octave. “Just book the car, baby. I’m sending you the money right now.”
“No, don’t!” you argued, shifting your mat to your other hip. “I still have like, half of the allowance you gave me on Monday. I can just use that.”
“No. Check your phone.”
Your phone buzzed against your cheek. You pulled it away to look at the notification. Sukuna sent you $100.
“A Lyft home is twenty bucks.”
“Yes I know. I sent you extra to get the Black SUV option, just add the change to your allowance or whatever. I gotta go, they’re calling me back in. See you at home.”
The line went dead before you could even get another word in. You stared at the screen, then at the $100 sitting pretty in your account. You looked up. Directly across the street was that insanely overpriced artisanal bakery you loved.
Then, you looked down the block. The entrance to the subway station was right there. The train ride home was exactly $2.75.
An idea immediately took over your brain. If you took the train, you would have $97.25 left. That was practically free money. It would be a crime not to spend it on a little treat.
An hour and a half later, you pushed the front door of your shared apartment open, using your hip to bump it shut because both of your hands were completely occupied.
Sukuna was already home, sitting on the edge of the kitchen island. He had stripped off his suit jacket, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone, exposing the dark ink on his chest. He looked exhausted, holding a car of beer in one hand, but his eyes immediately snapped to you as you waddled in.
His gaze dropped from your face to the three massive bakery bags in your arms, to the iced matcha latte balanced precariously in your grip, along with your mat & bottle. A surprise he always think about since your hands are too small yet you seem to carry everything at oncr.
“Hey,” you chirped, kicking off your sneakers.
Sukuna blinked. He set his can down on the marble counter. “What the hell is all that?”
“Snacks,” you said simply, dropping the bags onto the island next to him. “I got the pistachio croissants you pretend to hate but actually love, two slices of the truffle flatbread, a whole box of macarons, and some weird strawberry tart thing that looked pretty.”
He stared at the feast, then looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing. “You bought all this with the coffee money?”
“Well, no.” You took a sip of your matcha, avoiding his gaze. “I used the Lyft money.”
Silence stretched across the kitchen. Sukuna tilted his head, his expression dangerously blank. “You used the Lyft money.”
“Yeah.”
“The money I gave you to get a safe, air-conditioned ride home.”
“Mhm.”
“So how did you get home?”
You smiled innocently. “I took the train.”
Sukuna closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long, deep breath. “You took the train.”
“It’s only four stops!” you defended, crossing your arms. “And the bakery was right there! Do you know how fast those croissants sell out?" He scoffed as you defended your point. “Plus, the train is good for the environment. I’m reducing my carbon footprint.”
“Baby, you don’t even know what a carbon footprint is,” he deadpanned, opening his eyes to glare at you. “I sent you a hundred dollars so you wouldn’t have to haul your ass onto a crowded subway car after a workout.”
“If I took the Lyft, I wouldn’t have had enough for the macarons. And you love the macarons.”
“..... So you're saying you did this for me,” he snapped, though his eyes briefly flicked down to the box. “Yeah! I thought about you when I was in line.” You saw him bite the inside of his cheek, supressing a grin that's almost coming out. “You're gonna be the death of me.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic? You’re stubborn as hell!” He reached out, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against his legs. He smelled like expensive cologne and beer. “You have the worst spending habits of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Do not scurtinize me, and fyi; it’s called girl math,” you said smugly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, I saved you money. Technically, I made a profit.”
Sukuna let out a harsh laugh, his hands squeezing your hips. “That is the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“For you, but not for me,” you batted your eyelashes, holding up the half-eaten croissant. “Bite?”
He looked at the pastry with disdain, then leaned down and took a bite anyway. He chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, swallowing. “That’s actually really good.”
“See? My investments always pay off,” you grinned, “High ROI.”
“Don’t use corporate terms, you don’t know what they mean,” he sighed, wrapping his large hands around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “If you ever pull this ‘girl math’ bullshit with our actual bank accounts, I’m having you legally committed.”
“I would never,” you gasped in mock offense. “I only use girl math for the important things. Like treats. And shoes. Speaking of which, since I saved you forty dollars on that Lyft today…”
Sukuna groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “I am not buying you another pair of shoes because you took the fucking train.”
You laughed, thoroughly satisfied. Oh well, free pastries for you, I guess.
an: saw this shit in my drafts. this was true to life btw, my bf will send me money to book an uber after school when we were in college but i'll use it for food so I have something to eat while commuting hahshsjaj. dividers by: @dollywons 🌼 idk who the artist for the visuals above but i got it here + here @pixelins
also! i'm tryign different layouts, do you like it?! or just the simple text is enough? 😇
warnings: 18+ nsfw MDNI!! , heavy SMUUUT, predator/prey play, g!p toph, mean sadist!toph, masochist!reader, hide and seek, brat taming, hair pulling, spit play, cum play, gagging, face slapping, spanking (not much tho), degradation, humiliation, name calling, feral sex, p in v sex, edging, panties are used as a gag, ANYTHING on your mind you name it, toph is VERY rough sorry i’m a whore :((
summary: your wife’s been neglecting you, so you decide to get her attention one way or another. and of course, she reminds you who the fuck you’re married to.
!!! disclaimer: i’m ovulating, so tread with CAUTION!! this is my longest work and it doesn’t even have a plot. yeah i’ll go end my life
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
toph was supposed to be away on a work trip.
it had been eight days since she left, pressing an apologetic kiss to your pouty lips as she excused herself and explained the urgency of the matter.
you knew you couldn’t hold your wife back just because of your selfish whims, so you reluctantly sent her off, but you did not go a day without pestering her with constant phone calls or letters.
she’d often snap at you for calling her at work, scolding you for how unprofessional you made her seem, but then you’d apologize so sweetly and whine about how much you missed her so needily that she’d spare you the long lecture.
it was always so short, though. she was so swamped with work she was barely giving you any attention, and as the days went by, she only got more irritated, her replies shorter and meaner.
that pissed you off! you were just being a good spouse, checking in on your hard working wife, but now the only reply you’d get as soon as the line connected was “hang up. talk to you later.” and of course, that “later” would rarely come.
if she wasn’t going to give you proper attention, you were more than petty enough to make her regret that.
she thought your well-intended calls were “unprofessional”? oh, you were going to show her what unprofessional meant alright.
your fingers swiftly dialed her office’s number, holding the phone snug against your face, readying yourself.
beep.
“hello, chief beifong’s office here.” you smiled at her assistant’s voice.
“please,” you let out a soft breathy moan, “i need toph.. immediately. mhh, put her on the line.. it’s an emergency, please. hurry.”
you heard the poor assistant’s flustered gasp, her voice lowering to a whisper, “e-excuse me? who is this? chief beifong is busy. this is not funny—”
“ah, please,” you whimpered louder, “this is her wife. please, put her through, right now. i can’t.. hold on much longer.. mmph..”
you had to bite back a laugh as you heard her scandalized tapping away on the phone pad, murmuring a quiet “i don’t get paid enough for this” under her breath before a sharp click interrupts all sound.
a short pause followed suit, then erupted the voice you’d been longing to hear all this time. “beifong here. in a meeting, so make it quick.”
bingo. that meant she likely had her coworkers nearby.
“tophhh..” you drawled out, hearing her breath hitch. you pressed the phone tight against your lips, gasping out a small whine, “mmh, toph, i need you so badly.. need your hands all over me.. i miss your—”
the line abrupty cuts. well, that was quick.
you chuckle, setting your phone down, as you lean back against your couch.
she was probably a mortified mess right now, you made sure to be loud enough for at least someone near her to pick up on your sounds.
you wondered how she’d try and fix this. would she say she had no idea who you were? that this was a completely random prank call by some unknown? or maybe she’d just deny it all, reframing the entire context into something more innocent?
she deserved it. if she found you embarrassing for simply calling her, you’d go ahead and show her true embarrassment.
you get up, your smile only widening the more you imagined her flustered face as she’d try and justify the mess you got her into, then you decide to get started on laundry.
you’re about halfway through the second batch of clothes when you suddenly hear steady, rhythmic knocking on your door. you hum, a little confused on who would be there. did a friend drop by without warning you? or maybe some old delivery just came?
you lift yourself up from the floor, dragging your feet until you reach the door, hand on the knob. “yes? who is it?”
no answer.
you scoff, “haha, very funny. if this is one of you kids again, i’m coming to kick your sorry butts next time!”
just as you turn on your heel, the knocking comes back, stronger this time. oh, those little twerps.
you groan, slamming the door wide open, “ugh! i told you i would kick your— .. ah..”
the air is knocked out of your lungs, your brain trying to make sense of the sight before you.
a very, very displeased toph was standing in front of you, one hand on the door frame, a finger tapping on it insistently. you noticed a prominent crack forming under where her finger laid.
you swallowed, your gaze travelling back to her face.
lips tightly pursed, brows sternly straight, silently glaring you down — and you knew quiet toph was always the most dangerous toph.
but what was she doing here?
she was supposed to be miles away from you! this didn’t make sense at all, your mind raced to come up with any plausible explanation for this utterly unpredicted appearance.
you were only confident about your brattiness because you thought you were safe enough with her so far from you.
her low, gravelly voice cuts through your frenzied thoughts. “i’ll count to ten.”
you stopped breathing.
you blinked, panic brutally setting in, “huh? no no no, toph please, wait, i—”
“ten.” her voice remained level as a crunchy crack of wood reached your ears, her hand clutching the door frame tighter, scrunching it like it was styrofoam, “nine.”
you didn’t even have the time to negotiate.
you trip over yourself and quickly stand back up to run up the stairs, your breathing erratic while your eyes sweep around your surroundings for a good spot to hide.
“five.” her voice resounds from the entrance, reaching you even a floor away.
the bathtub? the closet? the kitchen pantry? the problem was that you’d exhausted all those options before.
“four.”
you rush to your room, not closing the door so its shutting “click” wouldn’t reach her ears, as you crawl under the bed. it wasn’t an extraordinary spot, but it was the furthest one in the house.
you thought of it as reverse psychology too — your other spots were often always in the first floor, all witty and well-chosen — so maybe she’d suspect this one last.
the hiding place didn’t even have to be some perfect place that fully concealed you — it just had to be good enough to stall her for three minutes.
only three.
if the timer ended before she found you, all would be forgiven. the only rule was to get through those three minutes.
but if she found you..?
you shuddered at the thought.
and additionally, she was blind, so this was a huge added advantage to you.
yes, it’d take her around two minutes to go through your usual spots on the first floor, and maybe a minute to actually go up the stairs, so by the time she’d find you, time would be up.
“one.” you heard the frame give out under her death grip, loudly crashing down on the ground.
you gulped.
“i’m coming, ready or not!”
you exhaled, trying to even out your breathing as you listened to her slow steps on the floor beneath you. yes, nothing to panic about. she wouldn’t get here in under three minutes.
drawers were being pulled. cabinets opened. fabric rustled.
“where’s my sweet baby?” she cooed, voice deceptively sweet, followed suit by a terrifying door slam that had the entire house shaking. “where’s my sweet, needy baby who wants my attention so badly? hmm?”
you swallowed, curling in on yourself, your cheek pressed against the cold tiles of your room.
“where is she? the sweet, sweet girl who thought embarrassing me was a great idea? hmm? i wonder.”
you counted down two minutes in your head, a shaky sigh escaping your lips. just one more minute to go — or less, even — and she was still on the bottom floor. you still had a chance.
“ah,” a humorless chuckle rumbled through her throat, her steps coming to a halt, “sounds like somebody’s hyperventilating upstairs. in our room, actually.”
you froze.
your heart sank down to your gut.
you heard her pace pick up, quickly going up the stairs, and you almost threw up.
you crawled further under the bed, curling into the deepest corner of it against the wall, your hands over your mouth to muffle your frantic breathing, peeking at the entry way from the gap beneath your bed.
please, please, just twenty seconds left.
“now,” you have to bite back a scream when her shoes come into view, walking into the room, “where’s my bunny? you’re muffling your breathing, hm? smart girl.”
she roughly opens the closet, feeling up the clothes.
ten seconds left. please, please, time, go faster.
“aw, shucks,” she dramatically sighs, heading back towards the door, “i guess my darling’s not here. i must have heard things.”
five seconds left.
no way, you were going to win?
you squeeze your eyes shut in hope, prayers jumbling up in your poor panicked head.
three. two.
relief started slowly setting in your bones.
“there she is,” a firm hand suddenly shot out, finding your ankle. a startled scream rips through your throat as you’re dragged out from under the bed.
“aw,” she laughs, and it’s not kind. “couldn’t muffle your heartbeat though, could you?”
your head spinned from the sheer fear, her teal eyes set on you with such terrifying accuracy you wouldn’t think her blind.
you trembled, her fingers tightening around your ankle, cutting blood flow to your foot, “t-toph, please, just listen t—”
“be quiet.” her voice brooked no disobedience. she leant down, ditching your ankle to grab a huge fistful of your hair, dragging you on the ground.
you cried out in pain, hands flying up to your scalp.
“you lost,” she threw your head against the bed, and you scrambled up to get on it properly, “and you know the rules.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
you squirm, wrists pinned above your head so tightly you thought they’d crack, as she crawls on top of you, “mmph— toph—”
“shut up,” her free hand roughly grips your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to pry your mouth open. her thumb prods at your teeth, tugging your lip up further, before you watch her gather up a glob of spit in her mouth.
you open your mouth wider, complying as best as you can to hopefully soothe her nerves, but she decides to spit right on your eyes instead.
“whoops,” she huffs, clearly lying. “bad aim.”
you can’t even rub it off, unable to use your hands, the gross texture forcing you to keep your eyes shut.
a mean prod of her thumb at your cheek makes you wince.
“open them,” she whispers softly, smearing the saliva over your shut eyelids. you want to cry.
when she doesn’t feel your eyelids move, her nails dig into your wrists in warning, sending chills down your spine.
she hums, the threat obvious in her tone, “are you disobeying me?”
“n-no!” you quickly reply, shaking beneath her touch, “i’m.. not..” you try, slowly cracking them open, biting back a sob at the burning sting as the saliva seeps in.
she scoffs, impatient. you don’t feel her hand leave your jaw until your head whips to the side, a firm slap landing on your cheek.
you gasp, eyes blowing wide open in shock, and she grins, rubbing over them, “there. well open. much better.”
you stare at her, baffled and deeply upset. you knew she’d punish you, but you didn’t deserve a treatment this.. degrading. after all, this was her fault in the first place! she was the one who kept ignoring you, kept pushing you away when the only thing you wanted was reassurance.
“toph.” you use up all the strength you have to spit her name firmly, and that does catch her attention. bad or good, you couldn’t tell yet.
she silently gazes down at you, and you clear your throat, “l-listen, i know i.. shouldn’t have.. um, done what i did.. b-but this isn’t entirely my fault! i—i just needed you! you’ve been gone for over a week, and you didn’t even—”
“ah,” she cuts you off, thumb swiping over your bottom lip, a small smile tugging at her lips. “so you just wanted my attention, hm? just wanted me to touch you, sweet baby?”
she was actually listening to you?
you blink, a little surprised, then eagerly nod, “yes! yes, it’s all i wanted, tophie. i never meant to—”
“alright,” she interrupts you again, her voice uncharacteristically airy as her hands find your thighs, “i’ll touch you, then. if my touch is what made my poor, innocent wife pull that very bratty stunt, i’ll take responsibility.”
she slots herself between your legs, then fumbles with the belt of her uniform, and you note the hazy look in her eyes, “i’ll give it to you, baby. oh, i’ll give it to you so good. so good you’ll never want it again.”
what?
you don’t get to process her words before her belt finds your wrists, looping around them and pulling you up with it. you yelp at the stretch of your arms getting pulled, making you sit up. she ties the leather to the headboard, pinning you against it, then settles back down between your thighs.
she smiles, and it makes you break into a cold sweat. “are you ready?”
are you?
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
“a—ah! toph!!” you desperately cry out, tears streaming down your face as you grind down on her palm. she stripped you down to only your panties — the one item you wanted her to take off the most — and stubbornly cupped your soaked cunt, kneading it through the damp fabric.
it was nowhere near enough stimulation, and it was driving you insane. her thumb would teasingly join in to rub over your clit, sending a hot jolt of pleasure straight to your gut, but the touch would leave just as quickly, and you’d only cry harder.
“you wanted my touch,” she sighs, condescendingly patting your aching pussy, “there you go. i’m touching you.”
it was so, so unfair. you forgot how much you missed sex with her, the pent-up frustration from this toph-less week crashing down on you, rendering you so needy for her touch, and she refused to give you more.
your hands tingled with numbness from how much you thrashed against the tight belt. these were the worst ten minutes of your life.
“please..” you pleaded, rutting up against the base of her palm for some friction, “i-i can’t do this. please, i need you to— mmph.. p-properly touch.. mm.. me..”
“no you don’t,” she argues simply, and her hand digs into your clit, earning a startled gasp of pleasure from you, “this is all you’ll get, and you will cum from it.”
you whimper, writhing, shamelessly riding her palm, “p—please! j-just your fingers— ahh..— in me, please—”
“no.” her voice is firm and unmoving, just like her hand. this time, she stops her measly kneading too, letting you do all the work.
it was so agonizing, feeling her fingers faintly graze over your clothed folds, you wanted nothing more than to just tear off your fucking panties and sink down on them, but whenever she felt you angle yourself over her fingers, she’d move her hand, only allowing you to use her stupid, useless palm.
“toph, please..” even your crying got weaker now, your voice hoarse, begging for reprieve, “i— i can’t cum like this, and you know it..”
she tuts, “that a challenge, sweet girl?”
all your words die on your tongue when her palm deliciously digs into your swollen bud again, and you arch up despite your exhaustion, mewling as you shamelessly grind down on it like an animal.
she pulls a startled yelp out of you when her fingers fiddle with your sensitive folds through the cotton of your underwear, slightly thrusting the fabric in you with each prod.
“t—toph??” you mewl, confused and aroused. was she half-fingering you with your panties still on?? what the hell was she doing?
“you will cum like this,” she states it like the weather report, her thumb skillfully toying with your puffy clit while her fingers continue doing whatever the hell they were doing.
she crawls over you, her thumb pressing more insistently as her eyes met yours.
her lips hovered over your quivering ones, an invitation you had to resist. then she smirked, her voice a low authoritative murmur, “you will cum like this.”
you’ll later come to cringe with second-hand embarrassment whenever you remember this exact moment, because you had no idea what happened.
whether it was the feral look in her eyes, or that smug smile, or the effortless authority in her voice — you don’t know which one of them had you gushing all over her hand immediately.
you don’t even process it until she laughs, disgusted and mocking, “well, you certainly didn’t keep me waiting. look at the mess you made, you slut.”
you blink dazedly, eyes drifting down to the big, wet patch you left on the sheets, your slick dripping off her hand in embarrassing quantities. she pulls away, shaking the wetness off her fingers in a bored manner, “you even ruined your pretty, pretty panties. isn’t that a shame?”
she plays with the hem of them, then sighs, “aren’t these the ones i got you as a gift last month? what a bad girl. how could you ruin my lovely, handpicked gift for you? you’re so ungrateful.”
not only did none of her words make sense to you, they barely registered into your brain, completely out of it from that hell of an orgasm. you didn’t even understand how or when you came, you just felt that blinding hot climax crash down on you, wracking your whole body, and this was the result.
“not even answering me now?” you gasp in pain, one of your peaked nipples caught between her fingers. she tuts, giving it a hard tug, “i’m so, so disappointed in you.”
you want to reply, you really do, but never in your life had you felt this mushy, only your earlier orgasm looping over and over again in your addled brain.
she suddenly stops, her eyes widening, and you can almost see the little cartoonish lamp flickering over her head at whatever idea she just got.
“righttt..” her hands find your panties again, and she pats your hips, “lift them up.”
you take a minute to understand her words, but quickly obey at the warning pinch it gets you, then she slides the sopping wet underwear off.
she chuckles, and that brings you out of your stupor. you stare at her, puzzled, when she starts toying with the ruined fabric. you flush a deep shade of red when she coats her finger with some of your slick, giving it a taste.
“good enough,” she comments before crawling back towards you. your confusion only grows the closer she gets, then she sits up, undoing the belt around your wrists.
god, the relief was incredible.
you shake your hands, curling your numb fingers to get the blood flowing again, a pleased sigh leaving your lips.
it doesn’t last long, because the second they parted open, damp, soft fabric was harshly stuffed into your mouth, the taste tangy and oddly familiar.
toph grins, and that’s when it clicks. she just gagged you with your own used panties!
“mmh—” you try to spit them out, flustered, but she scoffs, giving you a light slap on the cheek as she shoves them back in, “they’re my gift for you, slut. first, you ruin them, and now you won’t even take them back? since when did you get so bad?”
you were blushing furiously now, baffled and completely taken off-guard. she taps your temple, smiling down at you, “taste what the base of my palm alone did to you, my little whore. not even a bitch in heat would come that fast.”
and with that, she wastes no time in waiting for your reaction before grabbing your waist and flipping you over on your stomach.
her hands hook under your hips, lifting them up, and you protest uselessly against the fabric.
you were too sensitive from how much you cummed just a minute ago, so you tug the panties off your mouth to tell her that. but the instant a proper syllable slips out of your lips, an angry smack lands right on your bare backside, earning a startled yelp from you.
“who the fuck allowed you to speak?” she spat, one of her hands slipping to lower her pants enough to free her hard, flushed dick, “put them back in. i don’t want to hear anything but moans from you, you stupid slut. you hardly deserve me fucking you, so i suggest you don’t test my patience any further.”
you shamefully stuff them back into your mouth, the taste of yourself still so strong on your tongue.
she was so mean, so cruel, so inconsiderate.. and yet you couldn’t help but clench around nothing at her demeaning words.
a garbled moan is coaxed out of your lips when the fat tip of her cock glides over your drooling slit.
“does everything get you wet?” she grunts, her cock already well lubed with only your wetness, sliding deep into you with humiliating ease.
she huffs out a small laugh, “zero resistance, too.”
you writhe, mewling around the gag, desperately pushing your ass up against her. your eyes roll to the back of your head when she picks up the pace.
she leans down to nip at your ear, her hot breath hitting your sweaty nape, “you’re so fucking easy.”
the bed creaks violently under you, the sound of skin slapping and the nasty squelching of your pussy filling the room, your moans increasing in pitch by the second — you two sounded straight out of a porno.
your vision blurred with pleasure, drooling over the gag as your saliva dribbled down your chin.
you felt so disgusting, the smell of sweat and sex along with the taste of your arousal overwhelming your senses, but pure ecstasy overtook all of that, clouding your judgment and allowing yourself to enjoy the animal pounding you were getting.
you were so blissed out you didn’t even hear her pick up your phone, using the speech feature to make the device start a call for her.
you only realized it when she nudged your warm cheek with the cold frame, jolting you into attention.
you lifted your hand to take it, confused as to why she would want you to check your phone right now of all moments, but when you take a look at the screen and see the “boss” text on it, along with the call being ten seconds in already, your heart flipped over itself in panic.
you shakily bring the phone to your ear, removing the panties from your mouth, “y-yes? boss?”
her furious thrusts didn’t stop, and your boss’ awkward reply only made you want to shoot yourself immediately.
“i.. see this isn’t a good time? so what’s with this unprofessional behavior, miss?”
please, a gun to your head right now.
“b-boss,” you briefly cover the mic to let out a high pitched moan when her cock finds your g-spot, then bring it back to your lips again, “i-i’m very sorry, please forgive me, i.. i don’t know how the call went through. i suppose i didn’t pay attention. ah, d-don’t mind the sounds, please. i-i’m just.. renovating my room?”
out of all excuses, seriously?
“that’s.. great,” the reply is very unconvinced, but he really didn’t want to engage in this conversation any longer. he sighs, rubbing the crease between his brows, “may i ask you to come to my office early tomorrow morning? to discuss this.. unprompted call further? you can go back to.. renovating your room now.”
yes, this sealed it. tonight, you were going to off yourself.
“y-yes boss.. i’ll— mmph.. talk to you tomorrow..”
you hang up immediately, tossing the phone away as you bury your face in the sheets. this was the one boss who actually liked you and consistently promoted you, admiring your seriousness and dedication— and now, there you were. having to explain to him why your ass was getting busted while you renovated your room.
“that was so funny, right?” she chuckles, pulling out to brutally slam back into you, making you cry out. “just wanted you to know what it felt like. wasn’t that just hilaaaarious, baby?”
“i-i get it..” you grumble against the sheets, flushed with humiliation, mulling over what the fuck you were going to say tomorrow.
“you can worry about that later,” she angles your hips up better, striking your spongy spot with toe-curling precision, “for now, focus on cumming all over my cock.”
seriously? did she just expect you to forget about—
“augh!” you scream, eyes blowing wide open, her hand slipping between your legs to rub fast circles on your swollen clit, causing your walls to clench around her twitching cock.
she moans at the sensation, somehow fucking into you even harder, “fuck! fuck, you’re so good— so fucking gooood.”
and with that, thick, hot bursts of cum paint your insides white, making you in turn sob as you come all over her, your sensitive walls milking her dry.
“shit,” she presses a harsh kiss to your neck before sitting up straight, her hand feeling the wet mess of your cunt, dripping with your slick and her own cum. she scoops some up with her fingers, taking them to your trembling mouth, and your lips weakly close on them, too exhausted to even suck properly.
“mhh,” she pulls them away after you’ve licked them clean, slowly pulling out. she caresses your ass, her touch gentle for the first time since this whole ordeal started, “good girl.”
she lets go of your hips, and you plop down like a rag against the sheets, completely knocked out.
she smiles and lays down next to you, propped up on her side, running her fingers through your sweaty hair, “good job, baby. you were so good for me. don’t sleep now, though, you still need a shower. you made a big mess, remember?”
you mumble sleepily, eyes fluttering shut as the intensity of your two orgasms catches up to you.
she chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to your squished cheek, like she didn’t just fuck the living daylights out of you. “i suppose i’ll carry you then. since you made me come home early anyway, time for a nice, warm bath with toph.”
that is the last thing you hear before sleep overtakes you, snoring against her arms as she pulls you closer.
she sighs, burying your head against her chest, “you’re so stinky.”
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
* i’m TERRIBLY attracted to mean toph and i will never stop writing her i fear.. anddd yes consent is implied thank you
⚠️ Warnings: non-graphic sexual content, suggestive dialogue, heat/rut, dominance themes, possessive behavior, & explicit sexual references
Yeah, I don't know what demon possessed me to write this- (this is not smut though. Also, they're adults in this AU)
The quiet hum of Malik's tablet was the only sound in their quarters.
It was late. Way past when Cole usually crashed, but instead of sleeping, he was curled sideways on the bed, head propped on a pillow as he lazily watched Malik work at the desk across the room. Hair tied messily back, eyes flicking between lines of text and half-coded functions.
Cole yawned, then asked, “Hey, random question… do you even go into rut?”
Malik paused.
That wasn't a question he was expecting while reviewing field assignments and making sure the surveillance system didn't glitch out again.
He turned slightly, arching a brow. “Why?”
“I mean.” Cole stretched, voice muffled in the blanket, “we've been together for a while now. And I've seen you frisky, obviously. But like… actual rut? Haven't seen it.”
Malik leaned back in his chair, tapping the side of his tablet with one finger. His voice dropped just enough to be smug.
“That's because we met in the fall.”
Cole blinked. “So?”
“So,” Malik tilted his head, “my rut doesn't hit until spring. Sometimes early summer if my system delays it.”
He stopped typing, mouth parting slightly as a realization clicked into place. “Huh… that lines up with the end of the annual audit.” Malik mutters to himself.
Cole stared. “You're seasonal?”
“I'm efficient,” Malik corrected. “My body plans its collapse after the yearly management audit. Smart, right?”
Cole snorted. “You sound proud of that.”
“I am. Last year, it hit me so hard I couldn't even leave bed for a week. Slept for most of it. The rest of the time…” He grinned, eyes glinting. “I couldn't keep my hands off myself. Or anyone near.”
Cole groaned. “First Master.”
Malik chuckled low, resting his chin on his hand. “You ask a question, you get an answer.”
Cole rolled onto his back, covering his face with a hand. “So you're telling me… sometime soon… I'm gonna wake up with you in full heat, probably grinding against me like a feral cat.”
“Wrong,” Malik said. “You're gonna wake up to me already inside you.”
“Malik.”
“Just being honest.” He smirked. “If I'm deep in rut, I don't ask. I take. And you smell too good for me to even pretend I'd behave.”
“You're horrible.”
“You asked,” Malik said again, voice syrupy with amusement. “When it comes, I'll need you under me for hours. Tied up, if necessary. Gonna make a mess of you, Gemstone.”
Cole let out a strangled noise, tossing the pillow at him. “I regret everything.”
“You won't when spring hits.”
“Shut up and finish your work.”
“Already did,” Malik said, standing. “Now I'm just talking about what I wanna do to you in a few weeks.”
“Malik—”
“Hope you're stretching,” he added, just as he dimmed the lights for sleep mode. “You'll need it.”
Cole didn't respond. His brain had blue-screened somewhere around ‘stretching.’
pairing: Gojo Saturo x male reader x Geto Suguru (both as Ghostface)
synopsis: A Halloween prank turns terrifyingly real. You’re alone in the house, the phone keeps ringing, and two masked figures are hunting you down. Every corner, every shadow, every whisper pushes you closer to panic… and to something far darker. By the time they catch you, fear and desire have completely blurred, and what should have been survival becomes... something else.
content warnings: 18+, smut, horror elements, masked pursuit, bottom male reader, dub-con tone, double penetration, overstimulation, fingering, blowjob (reader giving), breathplay, degradation, spit, cum play, chase scene, minor blood mention.
word count: 2.4k words
The movie was just a low hum, its cool blue light flickering against the living room wall. It was late, and the beer in your hand was starting to lose its chill. A perfectly normal night in.
The old landline rang.
You snagged the receiver, letting out a weary sigh. “Hello?”
The voice that answered was completely distorted, like a cheap voice changer was having a bad day. It paused for the drama, then hit you with the classic:
“What’s your favourite scary movie?”
You couldn't help but crack a smile. Clearly, someone was messing with you.
“Oh, we’re doing the bit,” you chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Cute. Try to be original, though. Everyone starts with that line.”
A dry, amused sound came back. “Everyone’s a critic. But you still haven’t answered the question.”
You took a swig of beer. “Fine. Halloween. It’s a classic for a reason.”
“A strong choice,” the voice purred. “But the better question is, are you alone right now?”
“Look, buddy, I’m flattered by the late-night attention, but I’m hanging up and getting back to my movie.”
A moment of dead silence. Then, a chilling sound: a second, faint, low whisper layered beneath the main voice. It was there and gone, but definitely human.
“We can see you,” the second voice drawled. “Standing by the counter. Grey hoodie, no shoes. Nice beer.”
The can of beer fell from your hands. You snapped your head up, eyes frantically searching the dark windows. The joke immediately vanished.
“Okay,” you said, your voice suddenly tight. “That’s enough. Stop.”
“Oh, come on,” the voice purred, sounding closer now. “Don’t tell me you’re scared already. We haven’t even started.”
And then—click. The line went dead.
=
You stared at the receiver, your heart giving a frantic thrum. The house felt way too big and too damn silent. This wasn’t a casual prank anymore.
Thud.
Something landed heavily against the front porch.
Your pulse jumped. You whispered the first name that came to mind. “...Satoru?”
Silence.
Then, a knock. It wasn’t familiar at all. The door handle turned with a soft click, and the door creaked open.
"Not funny!" you yelled, moving toward the entryway. Your hands were shaking now. “You said no jump scares inside the house!”
That’s when you saw it.
A Ghostface mask. A black hood. The glint of a knife catching the faint blue light from the TV.
Your brain stalled. It looked like him, felt like the costume, but it was too still. Too tall. Too quiet.
You took a huge step back. “Okay,” you whispered, voice thin. “You can seriously stop now.”
Then, a second figure stepped in behind the first.
Two of them.
Your breath hitched. You stumbled backwards, frantically scrambling until your back hit the wall. “What the actual fuck. Who is the second guy?”
They didn’t move. The first one just tilted his head. The second one tapped the blade of his knife against the doorframe—a slow, terrifying tick, tick, tick.
You ran.
The chase was pure, desperate adrenaline—your socks slipped on the hardwood, your lungs burned. You caught a flash of one shadow near the kitchen, and the other cutting off the stairs. They were deliberately cornering you.
You grabbed a full wine bottle off the counter, spinning to swing—but one of the figures was already there, blocking you. The knife glinted in the moonlight
You swung; the bottle shattered against the counter. A gloved hand instantly grabbed your wrist, twisting it hard, and slammed you back against the counter edge.
Your heart was hammering against your ribs. Your feet refused to move from the floor.
“Please,” you gasped, eyes wide. “Don’t—”
The second one joined, breath ragged through the modulator. He slowly dragged a gloved finger down your chest, pressing into your sternum.
“Pretty when you’re scared,” the first one murmured.
Your breath hitched—that voice. Under the cheap distortion, the inherent, bright melody of it was completely, undeniably familiar.
“…Saturo?” you whispered.
The mask tilted. Then—he laughed. A sharp, absolutely unmistakable sound that instantly replaced your terror with blinding fury.
You went limp against the counter. “You sick bastard! I actually thought—”
He tore the mask off. It was Gojo Satoru in all his glory, his diamond-blue eyes bright with triumph, his signature grin wide. He instantly closed the distance, pulling you into a tight, sweaty hug. The contrast between his warmth and the adrenaline still freezing your core was jarring.
“Oh, come on, babe! You weren’t that scared,” he chided, his voice playful. “See? Still breathing. I wouldn't let anything actually happen to you. Ever.”
“I was terrified!” you hissed, struggling against his grip. “Who the hell is the second guy, and why is he still wearing his mask?”
Satoru pulled back an inch, his voice dropping to a low, possessive rumble. “Relax. This one, though? He’s the reason we had to get creative. He needs stimulation.”
The second man slowly reached up and pulled off his own mask. His dark hair was tied back, and he regarded you with an air of calm, almost weary amusement. He was handsome in a serious, reserved way, a stark contrast to Satoru's blinding chaos.
Satoru kept his arm locked around your waist, pulling you securely against his side.
“Satoru’s glove traces your jaw. “This is Suguru,” he says, voice light, almost proud. “Been dying to meet you.”
Suguru offered a slow, calm smile that held no apology. “It was a good chase. We just wanted to see how well that cardio would translate to other things.”
You glared from one to the other. "You are both the absolute worst," you muttered, but the frantic need to run was gone, replaced by a confused, building heat. “I’m calling a cab for both of you. Now.”
Satoru tightened his grip, his voice dropping to a seductive promise. “You wouldn’t. You're too curious about my other friend now, aren’t you? And you know you’re going to be bored again if we just leave.”
Suguru stepped in close, trapping you between them. He reached under your hoodie and slid his hand around your back, the cold leather of his glove pressing against your bare skin.
“You wanted to know why we were here.” Suguru’s voice was a low, velvety rasp right next to your ear. “Satoru told me you always need a challenge to really feel something.”
You swallowed hard, your eyes locking with Satoru’s.
“We’ll let you off the hook for all of this,” Satoru said, his voice a possessive claim. “But you have to earn the quiet night back.”
His free hand, now ungloved and warm, reached up and slipped under your hoodie, his fingers brushing the skin of your chest. “Think you could handle a real challenge, babe? One we’re both involved in?”
The knife was on the counter, but the danger was now a concentrated, electric need for something else entirely. The allure of the handsome stranger, Suguru, and the rock-solid trust in your boyfriend, Satoru, was the perfect trap.
You squeezed your thighs together. You didn't even have to think about it.
“Y-yeah, okay,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. “I’ll do it.”
Satoru’s smile turned feral. He grabbed the front of your hoodie and simply yanked it over your head, tossing it carelessly aside. “Atta boy. Let’s go get your reward.”
He shoved the discarded hoodie aside. You didn't fight him as you were quickly manoeuvred toward the living room couch. Suguru tossed his knife aside and pulled off his own black T-shirt.
"His cock, Suguru," Satoru muttered, his breath hot on your neck. "Play with his cock."
Suguru chuckled, his gloved hands immediately reaching out, squeezing and gripping your hard length.
“S-Suguru,” you groaned, already breathing too fast. “Keep touching me there—just like that.”
Satoru pulled away just to catch your eye, his blue gaze demanding focus. His palm came down hard on your inner thigh, a sharp thwack. "Focus on me, got that? Wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?"
You shook your head frantically. Satoru immediately claimed your mouth with a bruising kiss, his tongue demanding entry. Suguru was merciless, his gloved fingers rubbing the slick head of your cock while he squeezed your sack.
“Fuck,” you sobbed into Satoru’s mouth, your entire body alight. “I-I need more.”
Satoru pulled back. "Lie back for us, baby."
You obeyed, scooting back onto the cushions. Satoru was stripping off his own clothes. Suguru, meanwhile, leaned over your chest.
“He’s fully hard now,” Suguru said, his voice thick with lust.
“Put your hands behind your head and hold still for a minute,” Satoru commanded, already on his knees between your legs.
Their faces pressed together, side-by-side, as they started to devour you. Satoru focused all his attention on your groin, his tongue flicking across your tip while Suguru kissed and sucked along your inner thigh.
“‘S like fucking candy,” Satoru moaned, his tongue bumping into Suguru’s.
You tried to muffle the loud, lewd noises escaping you, but Suguru pulled back just to land a stinging, open-palmed slap on your thigh.
“Ah ah. Do not go quiet on us.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammered.
“We want you screaming,” he emphasised, his eyes hard. “And you will be, by the end of this. Understand, baby?”
You nodded frantically. Satoru’s mouth and hands grew more insistent.
“Ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cried, hips bucking into their faces. “Please, I’m gonna cum.”
“Give it to us,” Satoru’s voice was clear as he moved his mouth further down your shaft, joining Suguru to devour your climax.
Your body tensed, your hips jerking upwards from the intensity. Satoru cried out, his shoulders shaking as he pulled your orgasm from you. The intense wave of pleasure left you twitching and gasping for breath.
But they weren't done just yet.
"No, wait, I-I just came," you tried to protest, your voice thick and pathetic.
Suguru chuckled, his hand pulling away from your slick, aching cock. "Aw, baby. That's too bad, isn't it?"
Satoru grinned, his eyes burning with hunger. "You're only getting started. Get over here."
He flipped you around on the wide couch cushions. You ended up kneeling between Satoru's widespread thighs, facing him, your back a tempting view for his friend.
"First things first," Satoru commanded, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head. "Welcome home."
He pulled your mouth to his cock. Your lips closed around the hard, thick head, and your instincts took over. You started working him, taking in the heat and the power, using your hands to stroke the length.
"Good boy," Satoru groaned, his fingers immediately finding the back of your head, controlling the pace.
Suguru didn't wait. He lubed up his fingers, prodding at the tight ring of your ass. You let out a muffled squeak of surprise and instantly arched back.
"Come now, don't run from it," Suguru cooed, pushing one finger inside to stretch you gently. You gasped, squeezing down hard as Satoru’s voice, thick with arousal, vibrated over your head.
"Look at me, babe. Keep going," Satoru urged, his voice demanding attention as you worked his cock.
Suguru added a second finger, slowly working his hand in and out, the stretching a glorious, deep ache. He felt you clench around him, your hips starting to grind down instinctively, trying to relieve the pressure. He pulled his fingers free with a thick, wet schlop.
"You hear that, honey?" Satoru's voice was a low growl. "Time to see who can make you scream the loudest."
Satoru pulled his cock from your mouth. He wrapped one arm around your waist to anchor you, then pushed his massive length into your already slick, needy hole. You sobbed, tears instantly springing to your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.
Satoru buried himself completely, bottoming out with a loud groan, his cock sliding against Suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue.
Suguru wasted no time, pushing slowly into your ass. His teeth clamped down on your neck, hard, but the pain instantly registered as a shock of pleasure.
"Satoru! Suguru! F-fuck!" you cried, your voice lost in the messy chaos.
Satoru immediately went to work, rocking his hips slowly, then escalating into a tight, invigorated pace. He was thrusting into you ruthlessly, his skin slick with sweat.
"Y-you like it like this, baby?" he asked, his voice raw.
"I second that," Suguru panted into your ear. "You feel perfect. Don't stop."
Inside you, their cocks throbbed against one another. Satoru's pace grew frantic. He was close, his body tensing with the coming release.
"I'm gonna cum for you," Satoru's voice broke, his hips pistoning faster, harder.
"Take it all, baby," Suguru commanded, his own low groan joining the noise.
Satoru came first, his breath hitching on a choked, shouted groan as he filled your hole. Your body seized, convulsing around his cock.
The intense squeeze was all the leverage Suguru needed. His hips slammed forward, his own release breaking on a thick, guttural gasp that was muffled right next to your ear. He shuddered violently, his body going momentarily rigid.
The room was filled with the sounds of heavy, ragged breathing. You collapsed forward, your head falling onto Satoru’s chest, your entire body trembling.
"F-fuck," you managed to gasp out.
"Best reward ever," Satoru mumbled, burying his face in your hair.
Suguru carefully pulled his used body out of your ass and shifted, pulling you fully into the space between them. He gently wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand.
"Ready for that quiet night now, Satoru?" Suguru asked, his voice calm again.
Satoru simply didn't answer. He just tightened his hold on you, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over all three of your bodies.
The adrenaline was finally, completely gone, leaving nothing but soft, heavy exhaustion. The faint blue light of the abandoned movie still flickered on the wall. You were warm, heavy, and totally safe between the two men who had just terrified and thrilled you.
You shifted, burying your face in Satoru’s neck, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. You felt Suguru’s strong arm drape over both of you, a calming, possessive weight. The sounds of the night—the gentle hum of the television, the low thud of a distant car—were the only things left.
You were too tired to move, too spent to even process the insanity of the last hour.
With a soft, relieved sigh, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, right there on the couch, sandwiched between the world's two biggest assholes.
(if u came this far, i lowkey wrote this as a bday special to myself lmaoo)
❥ SATORU GOJO X SUGURU GETO X NANAMI KENTO X TOJI FUSHIGURO X FEM!READER
❥ WORD COUNT: 4.7k
❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: fivesome gangbang, some (okay, um, a lot) of m/m action, ass play, ass fucking, vaginal fucking, double penetration, throat fucking, hair pulling, snowballing (cum + mouth + spitting in another mouth), creampie, excessive cum in all your holes, cum swallowing, spitting (it's Toji, he spits on someone's cock, don't ask questions), praise, use of "good girl", some degradation, they're all nasty fuckers, Toji does show up eventually I promise he's just ~late~
~Happy Halloween~ let's go out with a bang
→ Kinktober Masterlist ←
This is not what you signed up for.
Satoru opens your thighs in his lap, long fingers spreading your pussy wide. A smirk kisses the back of your throat as you shiver, flushing so unbearably hot as Suguru’s dark gaze smolders at the sight of your drooling cunt.
Suguru’s mouth fastens over your pussy and you arch in Satoru’s hold, whining with every wicked flick and suck of his warm tongue. Your arms tangle back around Satoru’s neck, nails scratching down his skin, knotting in snowy hair already melting with sweat.
“Be a good boy and make her cum, Sugu. I want our girl nice and loose when we fuck her.”
This isn’t—you never imagined this is where you’d end up, in Satoru Gojo’s bed, an electric hum from the frat party below thumping through the walls, pounding the floor.
When you signed the form to have an upperclassman mentor, you pictured a few lackluster coffee meetups and texts about class schedules. Something more…casual, cursory, trivial.
Only Satoru Gojo is none of the above.
Day one he sunk his fingers into you, charming and carefree, with a pride only the most popular name on campus can muster. The whole year has been a blur of gentle loopings of his string around you until you trusted him. And you do, especially as his strong fingers press into your rib cage to keep you from squirming away from Suguru’s mouth.
Every walk to class with his arm around your shoulder, every late night text with just a little too much innuendo, every party with his fingers toying just a little close to the edge of your skirt. It’s all been building to this.
“Told ya I had the best end of year present~,” Satoru sing-songs in your ear.
Neon lights pulsate purple, long black hair catching and reflecting every strobe as Suguru leans in deeper, muscular shoulders rolling as he presses his nose to your clit. He groans in some sick mixture of pleasure and annoyance at Satoru.
“Whose name is she going to scream out? Yours or mine?” The man between your legs is toying with fire.
“Or mine?”
Your heart kickstarts in your chest at the new voice ringing in your ears, baritone and slicing through the heady room.
“Ah, Nanami! Didn’t expect you to respond to the group text.”
Satoru’s voice is still so playful, like he doesn’t have you open and vulnerable and trembling in his lap. You cling on to him tighter, jumping and gasping as Suguru slides his tongue over your swollen clit.
“Well,” Nanami looks directly at you, through you, shutting the door behind him, “this year your little pet is especially pretty.”
Being Satoru’s fledgling meant Suguru was always around—you know him, feel only the normal amount of embarrassment as he pushes his tongue into your cunt—but Nanami? He’s barely acknowledged your presence until now.
Nanami shrugs his button-down shirt over his arms, stalking the few paces to where you’re being held open and eaten. He reaches down and digs his strong fingers into Suguru’s hair, holding his slick mouth against your cunt.
“Ride his face and make a mess of him.”
Your hips roll before you can even think to stop them, lashes fluttering as you listen and start to grind against Suguru’s face. You can feel his smirk as his arms slip between your thighs and Satoru’s, jerking until you’re sliding farther down damp sheets.
Suguru locks his arms around your legs, blunt fingernails digging into your thighs. He sucks on your clit until you’re whining and cooing, all the while being shoved deeper into your pussy by the consistent tug from Nanami.
“Atta girl, you like his mouth, yeah?” Satoru pats your cheek.
“Ah, y-yeah, f-feels so good, fuck.”
His hot tongue dips deeper in your folds, tip prodding your fluttering hole. He slips in for just a moment, grinning as he teases and pulls back out to smooth the wide flat of his tongue against your clit again.
“Oh Sugu, fuck, please, oh god, in me, put your t-tongue back in me.”
“Are you gonna deny our girl? She’s practically shaking.”
Satoru lets your head fall to the mattress between his thighs, fisting his cock just above your eye line. The pump of his hand is lewd, already wet from the pre leaking down his slit from watching Suguru eat you out.
Nanami takes one of your tits in hand, fingers mean against your nipple like they are in Suguru’s hair. He rolls the bud between thumb and forefinger, making you gasp and arch into his palm.
“Sensitive,” he grunts. “Did that make her wet, Geto?”
“Oh fuccckk, I…”
“That’s right, be a good girl.” Suguru’s voice vibrates down your pussy and you’d scream if it weren’t for Nanami’s fingers slipping between your parted lips. He teases them around your tongue, dragging them out so he can use your spit to swirl around your puffy nipple.
“Oh fuck, oh god, like that, ‘s good,” you writhe on the bed, your legs squeezing around Suguru’s cheeks.
Your eyes blink open and your vision is filled with Satoru’s long cock, pretty and angry and throbbing in the color-changing lights.
Your body trembles as you come undone, tongue lolling from your mouth like you’re dying to taste Satoru. It’s a fast, painful kind of pleasure, like Suguru sucked it from your core only to swallow it for himself.
He watches the aftershocks of pleasure racing across your skin like a cat not yet done with his meal, your legs still shivering as you pant and try to catch your breath.
Suguru sits to his knees, shaking Nanami’s hold away with a slight sneer. He’s tempted to wipe his messy mouth with the back of his hand, but thinks better of it when he catches Satoru’s hungry gaze. He leans forward, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss onto Toru’s lips, letting him taste you. They both groan, Satoru pulling away only to trace his tongue around Suguru’s lips, licking at his ruined cheeks.
“Stop doing that before I get jealous,” you pur from below them, tugging at the long hair that brushes Suguru’s back so he will bring his lips to yours.
“Jealous?” he mumbles into your mouth, “I just had your pussy in my mouth and you already miss me?”
You grasp his messy jaw in your hand, fingers mean, bruising. It’s rougher than he expects.
“Toru said this is my present.”
“Sure is, sweetheart,” your head jerks to where Nanami stands next to the bed, fisting his naked cock, “now let’s get something else inside you, hm?”
“You know the rules. I get her pussy first.”
Bodies reposition like this is a dance with familiar steps. Satoru settles below you, smearing his cock through your sloppy folds and grinning when you tremble from how sensitive your clit is already.
“God you’re fucking soaked. Good job, Sugu.”
All three pairs of eyes are too excited to watch as you sink down on Satoru’s cock, pussy lips bulging at the stretch of him. You suck in his dick inch by inch, time turned to slush, head thrown back and lips parting.
Suguru’s hands are eager, gripping your hips from behind so he can slam you down onto his best friend’s cock.
“Fuck that’s so good, fuck, Toru!”
Nanami’s hand is suffocating his cock, standing still, patient, watching you get used to the bounce of Satoru’s hips.
Suguru runs his nose up the back of your neck, groaning as he paws at your tits, tweaking both nipples until you hiss. He flicks a nipple quickly with his middle finger, smarting your skin. Then he licks a hot stripe up your throat, the length of his hair falling over your shoulder.
Your head lulls back against his chest, “I th-thought you’d be nice to me, Sugu.”
“I am the nice one, princess. Just wait.”
You look absolutely stuffed, belly nearly bulging from Satoru’s thick, intrusive cock making a home inside you.
Nanami brushes his fingers over your face, cupping your cheek to cull your attention away from Suguru.
“So pretty. You’re a good little slut, aren’t you?”
Grabbing his wrist, you move his strong hand on your face closer to your mouth, wet lips closing around his thumb. You suck hard, mischief gleaming in your eyes as you watch his normally stoic mouth open at the feeling. You repeat the action, licking at the digits and moving his fingers in and out of your mouth. You release his fingers when Satoru pushes his cockhead into a particularly soft spot of your walls, making you gasp.
“I’m a very good girl.”
“Oh yeah?” You hear Satoru’s unmistakable, demeaning laugh from below. “Put his cock in your mouth, suck him ‘til he cums.”
Suguru’s hand splays across your spine and pushes you down, smashing your body to Satoru’s and lining your face with Nanami’s cock. The new angle of Toru’s dick in your guts makes you mewl, hips rolling and begging.
You shift your weight, balancing one hand on the bed so the other can wrap around Nanami’s cock, silken and hot and pounding in your little palm. Satoru has the perfect view below as you spit onto the cock in your hand, tracing your tongue along the vein lines.
“Fuck, you’re gonna be messy, aren’t ya?” Icey eyes shine before winking up at you, one of Satoru’s hands wiping away a stray drop of spit on his forehead.
“Don’t pay attention to him,” Nanami grunts and shoves his fingers into your hair, making you look up the muscular planes of his body to his face, “focus on me.”
You obey, lips sucking at his swollen head before taking the rest of him slowly. Nanami groans as he watches you, ass in the air, cock in your cunt, pretty eyes not leaving his as you slide him to the back of your throat and swallow.
Suguru smears lube onto your ass as you get to work, grinding down into Satoru and sucking Nanami. He thumbs your tight, puckered hole and you moan low and deep around the cock in your mouth. The vibrations tingle down Nanami’s spine and make him jerk your hair, shoving you into the blonde curls at the base of his cock until you gag around his length.
Satoru swirls his thumb against your clit to make your brain think about him again, about the way he’s thrumming into your hole, stretching you so wide you barely notice when Suguru’s thumb dips into your ass.
There’s nothing you can do but let them work your body, every part of you pulsing and throbbing with this hot, wormy need to be filled and fucked.
“Fuck her cunt’s so tight, gonna b-bust,” Satoru moves quicker, making you break the rhythm you’ve built sucking cock. You pull back to breathe, tongue flattening on the underside of Nanami’s dick.
“So early, Toru,” Suguru tuts, “I’m not even in her ass yet.” Two fingers now scissor into your tight hole as lube drips down to where Satoru’s balls are slapping into your ass cheeks.
Nanami keeps you distracted, roughly shoving his cock back between your lips once you have enough breath in your lungs. You bob your head, keeping him moist and slick between hollowing cheeks. His impressive thickness has saliva dripping down your cheeks and falling into Satoru’s hair.
Suddenly, your clit is pinched between Satoru’s cruel fingers, with no pleasurable intent beyond his own. You scream and the opening has Nanami pushing his cock halfway down your throat.
“Oh that’s it baby, get tight, milk me, fucking god.”
“Satoru,” Suguru bites in annoyance, “fucking hold it in until—”
“I can’t, been dreaming of fucking this little cunt. Can’t wait, fucking can’t, she’s too soft and wet and—”
You’re not sure who cums first, you from the blistering force of Toru’s thumb on your clit, or him from the way your pussy convulses and sucks around his shaft. Not that it matters, you’re both whining.
Your tongue goes slack against Nanami’s cock as you feel the thump thump of ropes of cum unloading into your hole. Bliss makes you numb, makes you dumb, easier for Nanami to control and for Suguru to play with.
“Don’t swallow.” Nanami’s groan is the only warning you get. His powerful hips go still, cock pumping, before a grunt precedes the salty burst of his release coating your tongue.
Of course you listen to him. There’s barely any will left you beyond to fuck and be fucked.
Only you’re not prepared for Nanami slipping his cock from your mouth and tilting your chin up, making you stare into the rapacity of hazel eyes.
“Now give it to Satoru.”
Your heart knocks in your chest, heat fissuring down your spine as if you’re worried about getting in trouble. You stare at Nanami with wide eyes, having to forcibly stop yourself from swallowing in shock.
Satoru gives you a lopsided, fucked out grin as you look down to face him, his hand reaching up to brush hair from your face. He kisses you before you overthink it, forcing his tongue into your mouth until spit and cum spill from the edges of your lips.
You’ve thought about kissing him before. Too many times, really, and never once did you picture it sloppy and tangy with Kento Nanami’s cum swishing from your mouth to Satoru’s. He groans at the taste and you moan as he shifts his hips below you, cock still hard and raging.
“Well isn’t this just disgusting.”
That voice is new. Taunting.
You look at the cracked door, your swollen, cum stain lips parting at who fills the gap.
“Fushiguro,” Suguru clicks his tongue against his teeth, “you’re late.”
“Surprised I’m still invited since I broke the last one.”
Toji Fushiguro is nearly a myth, a revenant that you’ve only seen shadows of in the dark corners of parties. Yet here he is, arms crossed across his shirtless chest, a dark gray spot already leaking through his sweats at the sight of you sandwiched between three sweaty men.
“Are you just gonna stand there and stare?” you ask, unsure where your audacity came from.
The smirk he gives you is sinister, the door slamming as he fists his cock through his pants, “Make room for me.”
Nanami pulls you up and off Satoru’s cock. He keeps your wobbly legs steady as bodies move around you, one of his big hands smoothing down your back as if to reassure you. Not that you need it, the headspace of sex is still engulfing you, like a haze all around the room.
“I want her ass.” Toji’s knees sink into the mattress.
“She’s prepped,” Nanami grins, hand reaching down, pawing at your ass, before he slides one of his big fingers into your asshole. You groan at the stretch, a filling pleasure shooting down to your toes.
Toji snatches you in his arms, his strength allowing him to tug you around like a little rag doll. His mouth seals over yours with a primal groan, settling you into his lap so his cock can twitch against the softness of your belly. You moan and let him have you, calloused hands groping your sore tits.
“Taste good,” he licks against your lips, “pretty little thing, aren’t ya? Toru outdid himself this time.”
He grabs your hand in his, forcing your fingers to wrap around the width of his cock. He helps you pump the shaft, thick neck tilting back when your thumb presses right under his mushroom head and you squeeze along his veins.
“Suppose you need another one of these in your pussy too, hm?”
The thought of being completely filled makes you leak, slick sticking to your thighs.
Your eyes flicker over your shoulder. Three men are waiting, naked, ready to fill whichever hole you want.
You reach first for Suguru.
“Oh, oh, don’t tell me he’s your favorite?” Toji’s laugh rumbles your whole body in his hold.
“No, I-I mean…” you flush hot.
“He’s just trying to rile you up, baby,” Satoru’s white lashes sweep to where his cum is starting to drip from your hole, “besides, I want your mouth next. I have…payback, in mind.” His gaze cuts to Nanami.
Five bodies tango around each other far too easily.
Suguru slips beneath you, Satoru stands before you, while Nanami and Toji make the bed groan and creak under the weight of their knees.
There’s no pause once Toji’s hands latch on to your hips, his fat fingers mean and greedy as he pops the head of his cock into your asshole. You hiss at the full feeling, only for the sound to bleed into a whine as Suguru nudges his cock into your puffy folds, pressing until he breaches the first ring of slicked muscle.
Your head falls to Suguru’s chest as they both begin to push.
The spread is delicious and excruciating all at once, so much pressure in your holes as Toji ruthlessly starts thrusting. He’s working his way in, grunting, worming his cock until you’re halfway down his thick shaft.
“Ahhh, oh, oh, ‘s so much!”
“Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay, pretty baby.” Satoru pets your head as your nails rake down Suguru’s arms.
“Toru—can’t fuck, too full, oh god, god, god, fuckkkk.”
Suguru notches his cock just a little deeper in your pussy, making you weep.
“Yeah you can, sweetheart,” Nanami’s talking to you but looking at where you’re being split apart, lip sucking between his teeth. “You can take more. Promise.”
Not that you have a choice. Toji grunts as he thrusts once, twice, finally forcing his way in deep and smacking his hips until he’s flush with the jiggle of your ass. You scream and you’re sure any music playing in the house can’t drown out the sound.
“Hurry up, Sugu. Or I’ll start fucking her without you.” Toji kneads his knuckles into the fat of your ass, tsking.
You do it for him. You press down, down, down until you’re sucking Suguru’s raw cock all the way in so you can feel full.
Your walls feel thin, like you can feel the outline of both dicks as they start to move together. Slow, at first, since you whine and coo and reach up and grab Satoru’s thighs like you’re afraid you’re going to topple over from their power. Then the pace really starts, a cacophony of skin on skin and grunts that have your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
Your guts are a mess as you finally pick your head up and look at Satoru, tears and mascara streaming down your face as your silly brain tries to make sense of the all-encompassing ecstasy of being so full and used.
“God damn you’re perfect, aren’t ya?” Satoru weaves his fingers in your hair, soft and sweet, guiding your mouth to his cock. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, hiccuping every time the cocks inside you slam up and in sync.
Satoru smears his cock over your awaiting tongue, popping the head into the softness of your cheek before pulling out and rubbing the leaking slit over your tastebuds.
“Mhmmm gonna keep you as a little pet, okay? I’ll let you have any dick you want, whenever you want it. Sound good?”
You nod, finally feeling stable enough to reach back and wiggle your fingers for Nanami.
Nanami slots his cock into your palm, groaning as your fingers fasten around him and begin to pump along his length.
“Need some help with that?” Toji’s scarred lip pulls into a smirk before a suck, swish sounds in his mouth. He spits over Nanami’s cock, the wet glob sinking between your fingers as you tug and pull his heated shaft.
“Nasty fucker.” You hear Nanami mumble under his breath.
“Oh yeah?” Suguru snaps out his pussydrunk haze beneath you, one of his hands leaving your thigh so he can curl his fingers over yours on Nanami’s cock and help jerk him off. “Toru can still taste your cum in the back of his mouth.”
Satoru gives you a wink and one last chance to breathe before he pushes his cock between your lips. You moan around him, finally, completely, entirely fucking full.
Every hole is stretched, your body aches, pleasure bubbling under every inch of your overheated skin like you’ll erupt at any moment.
You barely know who you are, can barely think beyond the carnal craving of being full and filled and used. Your hips roll back to match the sinful pace set by Suguru and Toji, your head and hand move in rhythm together as you work for Satoru and Nanami.
Toji fists one hand in your hair, pulling you back and bouncing you against their cocks. Your eyes snap up as Satoru follows the shift of your body, settling his knees over Suguru’s face so he can keep fucking into your hot mouth. You hear Suguru groan as the thick threads of his hair get tangled beneath Satoru’s weight—though it doesn’t sound like he minds it.
“What a fuckin’ slut,” Toji sneers and latches his other hand around your neck from behind. “Push deeper, Toru, wanna feel your cock in her throat.”
Satoru cants his hips forward and you open your mouth the best you can, still gagging as the length of him pounds into the back of your throat. Squeezing his thick fingers around the sides of your neck, Toji pets his thumb down the center column of your throat. He can see and feel the dick inside your neck.
Drool soaks your cheeks, bubbling around the tight suck of your lips. You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue to the veiny underside of Toru’s cock and let him use you.
Suguru’s cursing, cock plunging into the wet squish of your pussy with every groan. He squeezes his fingers over yours around Nanami’s cock, both of you moaning at the increase of pressure. Then he dips his hand lower, fingers sinking around heavy balls as you twist your wrist and tug, thumbing the Nanami’s sensitive ridge.
“Shit fuck, fuck you both.” Nanami grumbles, knees faltering until he has to brace himself on one arm on the mattress.
“Kento,” Toji grits his teeth, panting now from how hard he’s thrusting into your abused, tight hole, “cum on her ass. Gonna, ah, need more lube.”
Nanami swats your hand away, moving out of your eyesight to kneel behind you. You hear the deep baritone of his groan before you feel his hot cum pool and drip down your ass.
“That’s it, yeah.” Toji’s fingers smear in the mess Nanami made, coating the base and middle length of his cock with cum as he pulls out, only to push the gooey mess back into your hole.
Nanami collapses on his back, lungs expanding as he watches your breasts bounce from below.
“Ah, ah, god, ah,” you don’t know how long you’ve been babbling around Toru’s cock for—probably this whole time, a garbled, drooling mess of lewd sounds.
“Fuck, keep, ah, shit, keep fucking her just like that, her throat’s gettin’ tight.”
Suguru takes the initiative to swipe his thumb over your sensitive clit. Your nerves buzz instantly, making your cunt convulse and suck. You’re close, so overstimulated you’re not sure if any of your senses actually work anymore. Your vision is blurred, your hearing just a thump of music and skin and groans, your fingers numb as you grip both hands into Satoru’s thighs, and all you can taste and smell is his salty cock twitching on your tongue and thumping into your hot mouth.
Your sanity is only held together by the push and pull of the cocks inside you. You can feel how both Suguru and Toji’s cockheads bully past one another, curving and dipping just perfectly into spongey, soft spots you didn’t know existed in your body. Your gummy walls are swelling, straining around the double penetration.
“Fuuckkk, make her cum, Sugu. I bet this little ass will get so god damn tight and strangle my fucking cock. Fuckin’ do it.”
The way you try to say please around Satoru’s dick in your mouth makes him laugh, a little maniacal sound that makes you burn with need. You jolt your hips forward as much as you can, pressing into the thumb that starts flicking like lightning across your clit.
“Shit, she’s already m-making a mess,” Suguru lets out a groan that rumbles your body, sinks into your bones and makes you tremble. Slick is so wet and hot between your legs, making both your holes sloppy as cocks search for bliss inside your tight suction.
Satoru suddenly cums down your throat and you’re suffocating, spurting and gagging as he forces you to swallow a few spurts before he jerks his cock from your lips. He fists himself until pearly strings shoot across Nanami’s chest.
“Filthy,” Nanami drags his finger through the cum on his skin, gathering enough to flick toward your tits, “all of you.”
You’re gasping like you’ve been beached, falling down onto Suguru and burying your face in his shoulder.
Finally you reach the peak, the point of no return, your whole body spasming as you cum.
You scream and bite into skin, every single nerve ending in your body exploding and firing with ecstasy and intensity. It hurts, your cunt clenching and pulling and sucking around two throbbing cocks. Your body squeezes them together, walls stretched so thin that you can feel their veins pumping like heartbeats searing your insides. You’re so stuffed, plugged, fuller than you fear you ever will be again.
The choked sounds from Suguru and Toji are divine, four hands gripping and bruising your body to keep you still so they can fill your holes until cum bursts from your seams.
Suguru’s hand cups the back of your head, both to soothe and pry your canines from his flesh.
“Atta girl, atta girl, so good, you’re okay.”
“More than okay,” Toji wolf-whistles, smacking his hand across your ass to hear you yelp, “your little body is fuckin’ spectacular.”
He takes his time sliding out of your ass, more for him than you, you’re sure, so he can savor the last drags of your swollen walls around his shaft.
The empty feeling of your open ass makes you whine, but still you lift your head, sitting back on your heels, moaning as you shift on Sugu’s cock. You watch Toji step back into his gray sweats, grinning as he snaps the elastic band low on his toned stomach.
“Well, well, guess this one didn’t get broken.” He slaps Satoru’s shoulder as he throws open the bedroom door and leaves with, “She might even be up for round two.”
Satoru rolls his eyes, slinking deeper into the desk chair he’s occupying, spent cock resting between his thighs.
“You okay?” Two voices say in unison, Nanami and Satoru. Suguru has his arm across his eyes, dark hair like ink spilling over the sheets.
“Mhhhmm,” you nod, the afterglow rolling over your skin as you manage to pull yourself off the last remaining cock plugging your body. You collapse next to Nanami, face down in pillows that have been shoved to the back of the bed.
The group of them start talking, but your ears are ringing, thumping with your blood and the still raging music below the floorboards.
“Baby.” Satoru runs his fingers down your back, shaking your ass to get your attention. You groan as you feel cum spill from both holes from the movement.
“You should treat your playthings better, Gojo.” Nanami pats your head and out of the corner of your eye you see him almost smile.
“Oh yeah? You think you can do a better job? She loves me, don’t you baby?”
You nod your heavy head, one of your feet kicking up playfully.
“Give her to me for a week and we’ll see if she comes crawling back to you.”
“You can have her anytime she wants,” you hear Suguru grunt from what sounds like a hefty pat on his chest from Satoru, “any of you. She’ll be our pet.”
Sometimes the house became almost painfully quiet when Simon was away. Not the good kind of quiet, the kind that settled softly over the room and let you breathe for a while. This was different. A strange, persistent silence that felt like something was missing from the walls themselves, like the whole place had forgotten how to sound like home.
You did your best to fill it.
Books, music, little cleaning spurts that turned into reorganizing entire shelves, and, most often lately, cooking. Cooking helped. It gave your hands something to do and your mind something to focus on. It was soothing, for the most part, until you made something you knew Simon would have loved, and there was no one there to tease, taste, or steal the first bite.
Still, tonight’s recipe had gone well. The kitchen smelled warm and rich, all garlic and herbs and something sweet lingering underneath. You stood there with a plate in one hand, ready to finally serve, when you heard it.
A shuffle. Then a low groan from the front door.
Your whole body went rigid.
Simon was not supposed to be back for another week. You were alone. No guests, no deliveries, no reason for anyone to be at the door at all.
Someone was breaking in. Shit.
You went cold all at once, every lecture Simon had ever given you on self defense flashing through your mind, but panic left no room for careful thinking. You grabbed the plate tighter, your knuckles whitening around it, and moved before your brain could catch up.
The lock rattled, the door bursting open and you swung.
The plate shattered spectacularly against the head of the very tall intruder.
For one breathtaking second, you stood frozen, half expecting a stranger, a threat, anything else.
Instead, a familiar grumble filled the doorway, "Fucking hell."
Your soul left your body.
“Simon?” you gasped, throwing your hands up in horror as adrenaline shot through you so fast your fingers trembled.
He staggered inside, a duffel bag slipping from one shoulder and thudding to the floor. One hand braced against the wall, the other pressed to the side of his head.
“Are you okay?!” you gasped.
“I got smashed with a plate. What ya think?” he muttered, eyes shut tight.
“You were supposed to be back in a week!”
“Mission ended early,” he said with a pained groan.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Wanted t’ surprise ya.”
You stared at him.
Then gestured wildly at the ceramic graveyard on the floor.
"That is objectively the worst possible strategy for someone who constantly tells me to be careful because of all the enemies you've made."
He gave you a flat look. “Nice. Blame the victim.”
"The victim broke into the house like a raccoon with military training."
He huffed "rude."
“Just go sit down,” you said, already ushering him toward the sofa. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”
He kicked off his boots with a grunt and dropped onto the couch like all the bones in his body had collectively decided to quit. By the time you returned, kit in hand, he looked tired in that deeply worn-out way that made your chest ache, guilt gnawed at you like a tiny feral creature.
"Si, I'm so sorry," you blurted the second you sat beside him. "I genuinely thought someone was breaking in and then the door opened and I panicked and my body moved before my brain did and I hit you and—"
"It's alright, swee’heart," his voice came soft, steady.
You worked carefully, cleaning the scratches on his forehead and the small cuts along his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch much, though he did keep staring at you with that quiet, warm look that always made you feel like you were the only light in the room.
“Been through a dangerous mission,” he said, “an’ get home to get clocked by me wife.”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” you said, glaring at the cotton pad like it had personally offended you.
“Never said it was.”
“You are being very smug for a man who got ambushed by dinnerware.”
He huffed a laugh. “Usually wives greet their husbands with kisses and hugs. Not ceramic warfare.”
“I was trying out a new greeting method.”
He raised one brow. “Next time, how about a pan to the face?”
You let out a helpless laugh. “Shut up.”
“You hit me.”
“I thought you were breaking in!”
“Still counts as domestic violence, luv.”
You snorted despite yourself, and he looked absurdly pleased with that.
Once you finished, he leaned back into the couch with a long sigh, still horrified and still trying not to laugh at the stupidity of this entire situation. He tilted his head toward you.
“On the bright side,” he said, “I do know for certain you’re safe when I’m gone.”
When the topic of “the most embarrassing thing your ex ever said in bed” came up. You laughed, told him about the one guy who kept asking if you were “close yet” like he was checking a fucking timer. Toji snorted laughing, “Bet none of ‘em ever made you squirt, huh?”
You blinked at the dumb shit that he’d just said. “Made me…what?”
He stared at you for a second, then barked out a laugh. “You’re shittin’ me. You really don’t know?”
You shrugged, cheeks burning. “I mean, I’ve come before. It feels good. But squirting? That’s…porn bullshit, not real life.” you laughed, kicking your legs up onto his lap. “Girls fake that shit for views.”
He sat up, elbows on his knees, looking at you like you were fucking crazy, “You serious right now?” You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool, “Yeah, okay, Mr. Expert. You’ve made every girl you’ve fucked squirt then?”
He caught your ankle again when you tried to playfully kick his face, this time yanking you forward so fast you yelped, sliding you halfway onto his lap. “Hell yeah, everyone single one and the fact that none of those pathetic exes of yours ever got you there…kinda pisses me off.”
You opened your mouth to deny it, “Whatever. It’s not a big deal. I’m not missing out on anything.” Toji’s hand landed heavy on your thigh, slapping it, “You are. And I’m not letting my best friend walk around thinking she can’t squirt when I know damn well she can…Bet I could make you.”
Now your best friend had you pinned on his bed, shirt shoved up over your tits, shorts and panties dangling off one ankle. His palm strokes slow circles over your stomach, the other hand resting heavy on your inner thigh. “Relax, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, “You trust me, right?”
You nod, this was Toji. Your best friend. The guy who’s seen you ugly-cry over breakups and insults you about it. And now his fingers are sliding through your already slick folds like he’s done this a hundred times in his head. “Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he laughed at you. “Just from talking about it?”
You tried to glare at him, but it came out as a shaky breath when his calloused thumb found your clit and rubbed lazy circles. Your back arched off the bed, tits bouncing slightly with the movement since your shirt was bunched uselessly above them. “Shut up,” you moaned, as he pushed two thick fingers inside you. He leaned down, biting the side of your breast before sucking your nipple into his hot mouth.
“I—I don’t—” You gasped as he added a third finger, “It’s not gonna happen, Ji. I already t-told you—it doesn’t happen to me-e.” You’re soaked, embarrassingly so, as you bit your lip hard, trying not to moan too loudly.
“‘Cause you didn’t know what the fuck you were doing,” Toji growled, releasing your nipple with a wet pop and shifting so he could watch his fingers disappear into you. “Toji—wait, it feels…weird—” you whimpered, trying to close your legs. It was too intense, like you had to pee but a hundred times stronger.
He spits on your clit, then drags his tongue through your folds in one long lick before sucking your clit into his mouth. “That’s your body telling you you’re about to squirt all over my fucking hand like a good girl.” He spits on your clit again, three thick fingers stretching you open as he fucks you faster.
The slick sounds were louder now, as you tried to close your legs, but Toji’s broad shoulders keep you spread wide, his free hand pinning your thigh down, the other curling perfectly while his palm slapped wetly against your clit with every stroke so you couldn’t escape the overwhelming sensation. “Squirt for me like a good fucking girl.”
You begin to whimper desperately, “Toji—Toji I—oh my god—!” You shake your head, panting, “Ji, seriously—stop, it feels like I’m gonna—” Your back arches hard, tits heaving, nipples stiff and aching from his earlier attention.
Your whole body is trembling, thighs trying uselessly to snap shut around his huge fuckass shoulders while gushing squirts soak Toji’s wrist, his forearm, the sheets beneath your ass in a clear, messy spray. You whimper louder as your squirt splashes messily against his chest and stomach, “Fuuuck, there it is,” Toji groaned, watching with satisfaction as you made a mess. “Look at that. Keep going, good girl, that’s it.”
When he finally slowed his fingers and pulled them out, you were a shaking whimpering mess. He lifted his soaked hand to his mouth and licked off his fingers groaning. “Fuckin’ told you,” he said, voice rough with arousal.
Your pussy clenched and fluttered around his fingers as the last weak spurts trickled out. You lay there panting, trembling, thighs soaked and staring up at him in stunned, blissed-out disbelief. “Told you it was real,” he rasped, “It’s a good thing I love provin’ you wrong.”
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
gracieabrams
origamiaround
jimmyeatworldofficial
stormborns
